The Sour Taste of Suspicion

by CeeCee James

  The duster froze over a clock on the wide fireplace mantle. Matilda licked her lips and looked over her shoulder as if she expected someone to be there. Seeing no one, she beckoned to Elise to come closer.

  “I’m not one for gossip and I’m not blithering about fairy tales but,” here her voice dropped several octaves and the housekeeper leaned closer. “Someone’s been moving things around here.”

  “Moving?”

  “Aye!” The housekeeper’s eyes widened and she quickly cupped her hand around her mouth to whisper, “And they took my shoes.”

  Elise was flabbergasted. “They took your shoes?”

  The housekeeper nodded. “Quite a few days later, they put them back, but my shoes haven’t been right since. These ‘uns are smaller than the other pair.”

  Elise glanced down at the housekeeper’s feet shod in sensible brown, laced shoes. “Are these…?”

  “Nah. These aren’t them. These are my work shoes. They nicked my Sunday best.”

  “And put them back.” Elise raised her eyebrows.

  “That’s right, but they give me awful calluses now.” Matilda bent down to illustrate. “Right here, on these last two toes.”

  Elise nodded, feeling a little unsure. Was this just an example of a fantastic imagination from a bored housekeeper? Who would steal a pair of shoes only to replace them with the wrong size? “I’m sorry about that. Has anything else happened like that?”

  “Oh, there’s more, there’s lots more.”

  Elise had taken a step towards the French doors and paused. She looked questioningly at Matilda.

  “They took my eggs too,” the maid continued.

  Feeling incredulous, Elise sucked in a breath. Was everyone loony in this place? “Your eggs?” Now, this couldn’t be true.

  “Aye.”

  “Did they put those back too?”

  Two lines deepened between Matilda’s eyebrows. “What are you, daft?” A shocked look washed over the maid’s face. “I mean, sorry mum. I spoke out of turn.” She began to dust again, mumbling, “But, how could eggs return?”

  “Well, where were they?”

  “On a plate mum, with a side of ketchup.” Matilda turned her back in a dismissive way, flipping her duster about. She clearly was disgusted with Elise’s frivolity.

  “From the… kitchen?”

  “Yes, mum. Where the likes of us eat our breakfast.” Matilda glanced back and, seeing the concern on Elise’s face, seemed to decide to open up some more. “I only left my plate for a moment, see. And when I came back they were gone.” The maid frowned. “That was a Sunday morning too. Calluses and no eggs. Not a good day. No, mum. Not a good day.”

  Elise nodded thoughtfully. She continued to the door and opened it. “Well, thank you for sharing, Matilda. If you can think of anything more, please come find me.”

  “I will mum. I’m watching.” The housekeeper’s rounded eyes roved back and forth. “I’m always watching.”

  Nodding again as if reassured, Elise hurried out the door and into the garden. She zipped her hoodie tight. The air held a threat of warning of the coming storm with its cold bite. Under her feet, the grass was thick and spongy with moss. She looked behind her and saw a trail of her footsteps. Around her, a breeze stirred the branches in the fruit trees making their branches rasp. She shivered and dug her hands into the hoodie’s pockets.

  Looking about, she took in the expansive garden and headed toward the maze in the center of the yard.

  The maze was made of green hedges. They towered overhead, their raggedy tops having long overgrown the trimmed box shape. The grass gave way to dirt as the path entered the maze.

  A balding bush marked the entrance and she walked into the maze feeling confident. She’d learned the secret long ago when she and Lavina used to do the corn maze every October. If they got lost, they stayed to the left at every turn. Eventually, it will lead to the exit.

  The only thing different about this maze from the corn maze was that there was no way through if you made a mistake. The bushes were thick and impenetrable. If she got lost, she’d be stuck doing the left-turn trick.

  The maze hadn’t looked that complicated from her window, and she headed in the direction she remembered the center rose garden being. The sky overhead had become darker with more clouds, making the light in the maze even gloomier. She walked quickly.

  It was an easy maze and in only eight or ten turns she’d made it to the center. Elise looked around, disappointed. From her window, she’d seen the decay, but she’d held out hope that some would still be in bloom.

  She walked over to the dirt pile and hole at the center of the garden and peered inside. The bottom was nothing but a muddy puddle. Glancing around, she tried to find the reason it had been dug but saw nothing.

  White benches covered in fallen leaves sat on the outskirts of the garden. She walked over to one and climbed up to look for the Manor.

  There it was, appearing every bit as miniature in the distance as the toy one in the house. She searched for her room and thought she’d located it as the one with the curtains drawn open.

  With a deep sigh, she clambered down and sat. It was peaceful in here and not nearly as windy. Almost like a private, little shelter from the world.

  She was just about to entertain some fanciful thoughts from one of her favorite childhood books when she heard a noise.

  What in the— There it was again. A cough. Her blood froze in her veins as she realized someone was in the maze with her. She stood, her head swiveling in the cough’s direction. She looked at the exits, all four of them that opened into the rose garden. Which one did I come from? She took a step towards the closest one, feeling turned around as to how to get out. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pictured the view of the maze from her bedroom. She gritted her teeth. It was useless.

  There was the cough again, softer this time, but igniting her to move. She had to make a choice and try to find her way back. What if it was that transient again? All right. Can’t stay here.

  The wind picked up and caused the tops of the hedge to sway. Lovely, I can just see being caught out here in the rain. With a strange man. Even better. Her sarcasm drove a muffled snort out of her.

  Quickly, she moved away from the direction of the cough and retraced her trail. Left, go left every time. This rule should have worked, which is why finding the dead end in front of her left her flabbergasted. How could this happen? I went right every time before. Had she? What about that weird Y?

  Adrenaline gave a tiny warning squeeze which she blew away with a deep breath. I’m okay. This isn’t that big of a maze. I’ll figure it out.

  Another cough and this one sounded closer.

  Who on earth is that? It’s not the gardener.

  She shivered. Because the gardener is in the morgue.

  A vision of a toe-tag caused the panic she’d been fighting to blossom in her chest. And I don’t want to be the next one. She hurried around the next corner, her feet scuffling through the leaves, no longer concerned if she was quiet. Just get me out. Get me out of here.

  Her chest tightened at the next T and she looked left and right. Everything appeared the same. How did she get here? Keep going left. Just go left again.

  Taking the left, she ran down the corridor and then turned left again. I have to be getting close. There weren’t that many turns. Up ahead was the balding brush. Relief flooded her as she tore down the aisle towards the exit of the maze.

  A man clad in a black raincoat stepped out, blocking the exit. Elise stifled a scream at the sight of him.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked. The wind picked up and he reached for the hood of his raincoat and tugged it lower over his face.

  Still taking a tentative step towards the exit, she nodded. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.”

  She caught a glimpse of man’s mouth as he smiled. His hand remained jammed in his coat pocket and seemed to be gripping something. “You should head inside. Lucky yo
u found your way out before the storm.” He glanced up at the gray sky.

  “Thank you. And you are…?”

  “Charles. I help out the gardener from time to time.”

  Elise gave a quick nod. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Charles. I’ll see you around.” She stepped around him and made a hasty retreat through the exit.

  Once outside the garden, her chest heaved. She ran half-way across the lawn before she leaned over and rested her hands against her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  With another look at the sky, she hurried inside the dining room and firmly closed the French doors behind her. Heart hammering, she lifted the edge of the curtain and stared out at the pyramidal hedge. Where was he? Had he followed her out?

  A feminine throat clearing had Elise glance over her shoulder. Matilda watched suspiciously from where she stood dusting the curio cabinet. “Mum?”

  “Did you see a man come out of the maze? Who is he?”

  “The maze, mum?”

  “Yes, didn’t you see him? A man followed me out of the maze.”

  “I did not, mum.” The maid sniffed at the thought. “I’ve been here taking care of my duties.”

  Elise licked her lip as she continued to study the opening of the maze. Disappointed, she dropped the curtain. “Never mind, he has already left.”

  Matilda walked to the window and peeked out. “You mean him, mum?” The maid’s voice raised in question.

  Elise looked again and could just see the back of a man hurrying across the yard. She nodded at the sight of the raincoat.

  “That’s the new gardener.”

  Relief flooded her at Matilda’s confirmation. Of course he was. Things did have to be attended to, after all, no matter what tragedy had happened. She was about to drop the curtain when she noticed the man turn back to look behind him.

  She gasped. It wasn’t the same man she’d seen in the maze.

  Elise backed away from the French doors.

  Matilda frowned as she watched. “You okay, mum?”

  Elise could barely nod, trying to appease Matilda. Feeling sick, she headed out of the room.

  9

  Elise headed up the stairs, rubbing her arms. As she passed the statue, she reached out to touch the blue globe, deep in thought. Who was that man in the maze? Then, she remembered he’d said his name was Charles, the gardener’s helper. Suddenly she felt foolish. He was probably out there with the new gardener. I just didn’t see him is all.

  I just need to settle down and not get rattled so easily. Keep my guard up, but at the same time, my stress down.

  Elise eyed the original room she was put in as she walked down the hallway. The yellow tape had fallen on one end and someone had wound it around the door handle.

  Suddenly, curiosity got the best of her and she decided to take another peek. Maybe there was something the police could have missed? She shrugged and unwound the tape enough to open the door. It could happen.

  She closed it quickly behind her and glanced around the room. The bathroom door had been left partially open, giving a sliver of a glimpse of the shower curtain. Elise winced at the memory and walked over to the door to firmly shut it. It made her wonder how the investigation was going, trying to track down the derelict.

  She looked around the room. Something had to be here, something had to have prompted her to come check again. What was it? She scanned the floor, the bed with its new bedspread that had been brought out just for her, at the walls and the dresser.

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  She looked again, feeling like she was a kid studying those black and white drawings of “Can you find what’s different?”

  Hmmm. Something with the wallpaper down there at the corner of the room? That was it. That was what bugged her. Looking again, she couldn’t find anything wrong that she hadn’t already noticed last night. With a shrug, she tried to brush the nagging feeling off and study something else. But no matter how hard she tried, she kept coming back to that corner. Something there bothered her, but what?

  Take your time. Her head tipped as she studied it.

  The wallpaper was a simple pattern of roses growing up a trellis. Pinks and reds mixed with different shades of green. She walked over and squatted down. What was that? One section of roses grew in a different direction. She ran her fingers around the flowers. A tingle of excitement zinged in her stomach as her fingertip detected a very faint ridge.

  She crouched closer. The ridge was nearly indiscernible, looking like it had been smoothed down with a razor blade. She rubbed it again and attempted to get a fingernail under it. After picking at the edge a few times, it slowly curled up.

  She sucked in her breath and carefully pulled it away. The paper peeled back revealing squiggly stripes of glue, now yellow with age. Hidden behind it was a little hollow.

  Elise leaned to peek inside the hole, just over an inch in height by four inches wide. Someone had removed a chunk of the lathe and plaster to create it. The entrance was thick with dust and cobwebs, though how cobwebs got behind the paper, Elise had no idea.

  She plucked her phone from her pocket and swept the light across the opening. The illumination danced across something, making a shadow. She nearly squealed in excitement when she realized it was a book. Carefully, she pulled it out.

  The book was about the size of a tiny ledger or address book. Stamped on the front cover was a tree made of gold foil. She blew off the dust and opened it up.

  The pages felt like old autumn leaves. The first page was dated September 21, 1941, and stated simply, Charles has come home.

  Elise brought the book to the bed. Light from the window cast an eerie orange glow, almost giving her the feeling that somehow she’d fallen back in time. She gingerly sat down and the mattress springs protested under her weight.

  She scooted back against the headboard and began to read.

  Charles has come home. My darling brother. I could hardly believe my eyes when I received today’s letter from Mama. It’s been over two years since I last saw him, looking so thin and frail on his way to war. I suspect a lot has changed but when I’ll get to see him, I do not know. My post as governess is through to next year, but Papa has promised me that he will have me home by Christmas.

  Love, Constance

  Dear Diary

  Christmas seems so far away. It’s been three months, but it feels like it’s been forever. Still, I’ll not complain. I look around my room now and wonder. I’m blessed to have my own room. So many servants are not afforded these luxuries. But I suspect being a governess has its benefits. Still, I’m scared and alone. Anna and Myrtle are good girls and hardly any trouble. Except…. Do I dare say it? One of them has a sassy streak. I hardly dare write it in case this book is found and becomes public.

  Ever your servant,

  Constance.

  Elise flushed with quiet excitement at the treasure in her hands. Here were the very words her great grandma had said, perhaps sitting in this very room. Her eyes narrowed. No, this couldn’t have been her room. How did the diary get stashed here?

  “Elise? Elise? Where are you? Where is that dag-nabbit girl?” Aunt Myrtle’s voice wavered with volume, before settling down into a grumble.

  Elise looked around, suddenly feeling guilty. She shoved the diary partially into her front pants pocket and adjusted her shirt to cover the top. Footsteps came closer, along with the sharp thump of a cane. Elise jumped up and smoothed the bed’s duvet. She spied the curl of wallpaper on the floor. Too late. Aunt Myrtle was pounding on the door across the hall, her room.

  “Elise?”

  “I’m right here, Aunt Myrtle,” Elise said as she opened the door. The old woman staggered back with her hand over her heart. Her mouth hung open with the slackness of shock. “What are you doing in there?” She pointed with a trembling finger. “Did Anna call you?”

  “What? No. I was just checking. I should have asked you before making myself welcome. I’m sorry I scared you.
”

  Aunt Myrtle opened and shut her mouth a few times. She took a deep breath before plucking her white cardigan down where it had become rumpled. “It’s fine. Be careful in that room. Don’t make Anna upset.”

  Elise found herself nodding in agreement, not understanding at all. “Yes, yes, of course. Was there something you needed?”

  The old woman leaned on her cane.

  “I mean, just now, when you were calling for me?” Aunt Myrtle didn’t answer so Elise tried again, “Did you have a good time at Cribbage Club?”

  “I came home early because I got news.” Aunt Myrtle pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of her skirt. “On one of these newfangled things. People can get ahold of you anywhere, these days. Anyway, my son’s coming home.”

  This was news. “Coming home? To stay?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s his birthday soon. Maybe he’s here for a present. I wouldn’t put it past him. At any rate, those kids should come home and stay. It’s high time for them to settle down now and quit all this lollygagging like a tourist in foreign countries.”

  “He’s touring? I thought he owned the family company.”

  “Oh, he and his sister think they’re in charge. But really, it’s still under my control.” Aunt Myrtle’s eyes stared intently at Elise. “My board of directors keep me updated. They’ve wanted me to step down for years.”

  “They?”

  “My children. Stephen and Caroline. But they’ll get their hands on it soon enough.” The old lady turned and began hobbling back down the hall. “When I’m good and dead. Now, follow me.”

  10

  Elise did exactly what the old lady ordered and followed her out to the hallway. Before she shut the door, she wound the caution tape tightly around the doorknob.

  “How long is that ugly yellow thing going to be there anyway?” Aunt Myrtle took one look at it and sniffed.

  “Until the police are done with their investigation.”

  “What good is it for, anyway? Looks more like a flag for bull.”