“A banana split!” I exclaimed when our middle-aged waitress left to fill our orders.
Joy grinned. “I’m making the most of my getaway.”
The busboy plopped two glasses of water down on our table.
Joy leaned over the table to whisper. “If Gayle didn’t kill Len or whatever his name is, there’s a good chance one of the book club members stabbed him. We’ll raise some provocative questions at the meeting tomorrow morning, then watch to see how everyone reacts.”
“Oh, my God!” With everything happening, I’d all but forgotten the meeting.
She burst out laughing. “Did I catch our book club facilitator unprepared?”
“Only where the food’s concerned. I’m out of coffee. I’ll buy some on the way home. And bagels and cream cheese.”
“Is everyone coming?” Joy asked.
“As far as I know.”
“Good. All suspects will be on board.”
“I’m pretty sure Len was looking into the window to get Felicity’s attention. They had a date that evening, but Felicity caved when Corinne made her go to the meeting. She didn’t want her sister to find out about her relationship with Len.”
Joy frowned. “I bet she didn’t. Corinne is one control freak. She all but tells Felicity when to go to the bathroom. On the other hand, Felicity has a screw loose. She had no business getting involved with a gonzo at least ten years older than her.”
“That is, if they really were involved and the romance wasn’t a figment of Felicity’s imagination.”
“Also a viable possibility,” Joy said.
“Felicity mentioned spending time in a hospital.”
“She did, about three years ago. It was around the time they bought the house. Corinne moved in alone and Felicity joined her a few months later. Corinne told anyone who asked that her sister was away on a trip. Her story sounded phony, so I checked it out. Turns out Felicity had been a patient at Herring House for several months.”
“The psychiatric hospital,” I mused. “I’m not surprised. She seems so fragile.”
“And naïve,” Joy added. “I’d worry about her if she were my sister.”
I shuddered as I wondered where my own sister was right now, frightened and on her own.
“It’s interesting how all the book club members knew Len Lyons,” Joy said. “Maybe one of them killed him. The Billingses and Tim assume he robbed them after making repairs in their homes.”
I suddenly remembered. “The other night I saw Evan talking to a goliath of a man at the bowling alley.”
“What were you doing at a bowling alley?” Joy asked, amused. “I didn’t know you belonged to a bowling league.”
“I met my friend Rosie there,” I explained. “The alley’s halfway between here and her house.”
“Okay,” Joy said, sounding unconvinced. “I’ll check out the Billingses’ history, along with Sadie’s, the twisted sisters’, and Tim’s.”
I laughed. “You and I are excluded.”
“Of course,” Joy said gaily. “We’re the detectives.”
The waitress arrived with our order. I sipped my coffee.
“But I’m afraid Gayle’s not excluded,” Joy said.
For a moment, I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Your sister showed up at your place for a reason, Lexie. To see the whole picture, we have to find out why.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I think it’s safe to say The Daughter of Time is a one-of-a-kind mystery,” I said, making eye contact with each of the members of the book club.
All seven of them, including the few chomping away on cream cheese-smeared bagels, nodded in agreement. Joy winked to let me know she was about to start things rolling.
Tim chuckled. “Amazing how drawing logical conclusions from old but verified reports proves Richard the Third never murdered his nephews.”
“And points a finger at Henry The Seventh,” Joy said. “Tey makes a good case that he ordered the murder of the two princes, then did away with everyone standing between himself and the throne.”
“And got away with it scot-free,” I added.
“The king had total power in those days,” Sadie mused. “He killed whomever he pleased.”
“Let’s not forget that Henry the Seventh grabbed the throne after Edward the Fourth died in battle,” Evan said.
Felicity shivered. “Murder was so common in those days. On the battlefield and at court.”
“Poison was a popular means of disposal,” Corinne commented. “Which was why rulers often had someone taste their food before eating it.”
“And the murdering goes on,” Joy said blithely. “Are you forgetting the dead body that turned up in Lexie’s backyard?”
Odd that no one had mentioned it till now. I watched them exchange glances in pairs—the Billingses, Sadie and Tim, and the Roberts sisters.
Evan was the first to speak. “No big loss,” he said. “Len Lyons was a two-bit thief! Who cares that he’s dead?”
Felicity moaned and pressed her hand to her chest.
To take the focus off her, I said, “Thief or not, he didn’t deserve to be stabbed. I’ve no idea why someone killed him in my backyard. Or what drew him to our meeting Wednesday night.”
“That was Len spying on us?” Sadie asked incredulously.
“You knew him?” I asked.
Sadie shrugged.
“I realized Len was the man I’d been chasing once he was ID’d as the homicide victim,” Joy said.
“I hate to say it, Lexie, but he was probably checking out your house because he intended to rob you,” Ted said. “Maybe that’s what he was about to do the morning he was killed.”
I shivered. “I never considered that possibility.”
Joy glared at Tim. “At least Lexie won’t have to worry about that now.”
“But I’m worried there’s a killer running loose in our neighborhood,” I said.
Heads nodded but no one offered a comment. What a fiasco! Though what did I expect, someone jumping up and admitting he or she stabbed Len Lyons for being a worthless human being?
Sadie and Marge took advantage of the lull in conversation to use the bathroom or go in the kitchen for refills. I wasn’t sure who did what because by the time they’d rejoined us, their plates piled with cookies, I’d stopped playing Miss Marple and had resumed my role of book club facilitator.
“Let’s move on to Brat Farrar, a totally different type of story than The Daughter of Time.” I smiled. “Would you call Brat Farrar a mystery or a novel that includes a mystery?”
“I’d say a novel because of its depth and psychological insights,” Marge said. “We get to know the four Ashby children and their Aunt Bee. They live on an estate and raise horses in the English midlands. There’s lots in the book about that.”
Felicity clapped her hands. “I love Brat! He’s my favorite character of all!”
“Mine, too,” I agreed. I winked at her, glad she’d recovered from our earlier conversation about her deceased boyfriend. “But doesn’t it bother you that Brat comes to Latchetts, pretending to be Patrick, who disappeared or died eight years ago? He’s going to steal Latchetts from Simon, who’s expecting to inherit the estate.”
Felicity’s lip quivered, and I feared she was about to burst into tears. Corinne reached over to take her hand, but Felicity pulled it away.
“Brat’s a good person! Sometimes good people do bad things, though they don’t mean to.” Felicity ran from the room. Her sister chased after her.
“What was that all about?” Tim murmured.
For a moment I feared that another meeting was about to fall apart, when Joy grabbed the reins.
“You know how Felicity takes everything to heart. Corinne will calm her down and have her back with us in no time.” She cast me a meaningful glance.
“Let’s talk about Brat Farrar,” I said, and went into a detailed exposition of his vagabond life until he meets up with Alec Loding
. “Loding is an actor and the Ashbys’ neighbor. He’s impressed by how much Brat resembles Simon, Patrick’s twin brother, and convinces him to impersonate Patrick. As the older twin, Brat will inherit Latchetts; in return, Brat will provide Loding with a bundle of cash.”
Evan gave a little laugh. “Clearly Alec doesn’t like Simon.”
“Simon’s not very likable,” Sadie said. “His only admirer is his younger sister, Jane.”
“We don’t like Simon, either,” Joy said. “We suspect he’s killed Patrick, even though he appears to have an alibi at the time his brother disappeared. Patrick’s murder is at the heart of the novel.”
Was it my imagination, or did everyone suddenly jerk to attention? I cleared my throat.
“Shortly after his parents are killed in an accident, Patrick disappears. He is thirteen years old. For much of the novel, we don’t know if he’s dead. If he’s dead, we don’t know if Simon killed him or why?”
“The why is easy,” Tim said. “The oldest surviving sibling inherits Latchetts.”
“Kind of like Henry the Seventh killing off everyone standing between him and throne,” Marge pointed out.
“Excellent point!” I beamed, pleased that the members were seeing similarities in Tey’s plots.
“Simon has an alibi,” Joy pointed out, “until Brat unravels it.”
“No one suspects Simon because he was only thirteen at the time Patrick disappeared,” Sadie said. “Most of us have difficulty acknowledging the brutal truth that children commit murder.”
Felicity crept back into the room and took her seat. Marge and Sadie reached out to pat her arm. I heard the muffled sound of a toilet being flushed. Minutes later, Corinne slipped into her chair.
I continued. “As Felicity pointed out, we like Brat Farrar.” I smiled at Felicity, who offered me a wan smile in return. “Loding tells Brat he’s an Ashby, and Brat insists he isn’t. At the end of the novel we learn, along with Brat, that he is an Ashby, though he grew up without a family. The more Brat learns about Patrick, the more he identifies with him and wants to be part of this family. At the same time he feels guilty for impersonating someone he’s never met.”
“He’s playing a role,” Joy chimed in.
I nodded. “We see evidence of Josephine Tey’s theatrical background throughout the novel. Alec Loding, an actor himself, coaches Brat Farrar so that he can play the role of Patrick.”
The professorial aspect of my nature pushed forward. “We see this theme occasionally in literature. The film, ‘The Return of Martin Guerre,’ is based on a true story that occurred in the 1600’s. A man arrives in a French village, claiming to be someone who left some years earlier. In the end, we discover he’s an impostor. In Brat Farrar we see most of the story from the impersonator’s point of view. We know from the start that Brat’s not who he says he is.”
In full gear, I charged ahead. “Brat falls in love with the Ashby family, especially with Aunt Bee and Elinor.”
Sadie laughed. “But not with Simon, who tries to kill him.”
“How?” I asked.
Marge fielded that one. “Twice in incidents involving horses. Horses play an important role in this book.”
We talked a bit about the showdown between Brat and Simon and about the ending.
Sadie sighed. “Brat Farrar’s a wonderful read, even by today’s standards.”
I nodded. “It’s a classic, with great characters, a fantastic setting, good pacing, and a satisfying conclusion.”
Everyone murmured in agreement. The perfect moment to end our meeting, I thought, until I caught Joy’s mischievous grin.
“Why do we love to read mysteries?” she tossed out to the group, pretending a fierce curiosity.
Tim laughed. “That’s easy. We enjoy the suspense as we try to ID the guilty party. When he’s unveiled at the end, we feel a sense of closure and justice fulfilled that’s rarely achieved in real life.”
Joy shrugged. “Or maybe we’re all potential murderers and experience a vicarious thrill when we read about people getting away with it—at least for a while.”
“And imagine we wouldn’t get caught because we’re smarter than the killer in the book,” I added.
Silence. Would no one agree for fear of being branded Len’s killer?
Joy charged ahead. “Any of us will kill when pushed to the edge. We’re all prospective murderers. We’ll kill to protect our children. To protect ourselves.”
Her cheeks were rosy with emotion as she looked at each of us. “’Fess up. When did you feel the urge to murder someone but didn’t give into it, of course?”
Sadie pursed her lips as she silently debated the question. Tim gave a devilish grin. Evan and Marge exchanged worried glances.
“I wanted to kill someone once!”
We all stared at Felicity.
“Be quiet!” her sister growled.
I tamped down the twinge of guilt, and urged Felicity to answer. “Whom did you want to kill, Felicity, and why?”
“Johnny! For killing Oscar, my pet ferret!”
“How awful!” I looked about for Puss, and sighed with relief when I saw him fast asleep in the corner against the baseboard
“A pet killer,” Joy said with distaste. “Who could blame you?”
Corinne shot her an angry look. “The creature was sick and dying. Our father asked a family friend to put it out of its misery.”
“Oscar wasn’t sick!” Felicity insisted. “Don’t you remember? It was because Daddy hated—”
“Felicity!”
Felicity whimpered.
“We don’t air family matters in public.”
I expected Felicity to burst into tears. Instead she bowed her head and murmured, “I’m sorry, Corinne, but thinking about Oscar upset me all over again.”
Corinne put an arm around her sister and marched her out of the room and into the hall. “Good-bye. Thanks for everything, Lexie,” she tossed over her shoulder as she slammed the door behind her.
Good job, Lexie, I told myself, convinced I’d just lost two members of the mystery book club.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What do you make of Felicity’s ferret story?” Joy asked the following Wednesday afternoon as she handed me a steaming cup of coffee.
She’d called, asking me to come over ASAP, when I was driving home from teaching my morning classes. I fed Puss, ate a few tablespoons of tuna salad standing at the sink, and hurried over. I was still glowing from last night’s date with Brian. I’d called to tell him about Felicity’s relationship with Len Lyons, and he asked me to meet him for dinner at our local diner. Afterward, we shared a long, lingering kiss in my car, both of us grinning like fools when we said good-night. My heart soared because I had the definite sense our feelings for each other were mutual.
“Lexie?”
“Mmm?”
“I thought I lost you on another planet.”
“I’m here,” I said, struggling to retrieve her question. I stirred in a dab of milk and sipped. Heavens! The Soccer Mom made awesome coffee.
“Felicity’s story has me mystified,” I said. “What kind of father asks someone to kill his daughter’s pet?”
“And why was Corinne so intent on shutting her up?” Joy asked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I’ve an idea I’m working on. Meanwhile, I’ve learned a few things about our fellow members you’ll find interesting.” She crooked her finger. “Come with me.”
I followed her into the small room off the kitchen that she’d turned into an office. I noted the pile of pages beside the printer.
Joy picked up the sheath of papers. “This is the info I’ve gathered so far.”
“All that. I’m impressed. Anything of interest?”
“Uh-huh. Everything’s of interest. I’ll start with Sadie.”
“Sadie?” I moved some books to the floor so I could sit on the chair next to a small bookcase.
“She’s pretty much what she claims to be, a guidance counselor
at the local high school. Though she has some DWIs from over ten years ago.”
“Really! I’ve never seen her drink.”
“Probably doesn’t any longer. Sadie’s divorced. No children. Three months ago she arranged for a loan to buy a bigger house.”
“The one she’s living in is beautiful! And certainly large enough for one person.”
“Haven’t you noticed? Sadie likes having the biggest and the best: perfect hair, beautiful clothes. She drives a Mercedes. Her expenses far exceed what she earns on a guidance counselor’s salary.”
I nodded. “I suppose. Maybe she’s inherited money. Or got a great settlement when she divorced.”
“Neither. Sadie’s maxed out her credit cards and owes money to the bank. The loan I’m referring to was arranged by Len Lyons.”
“Oh? He set her up with a loan shark?”
“Looks that way. It seems Len Lyons had his finger in quite a few pies. Tim settled a minor case for our Dearly Departed Handyman a few years ago. I’m willing to bet Tim introduced Sadie to Len.”
I shuddered. “What dirt you dug up about Tim?”
“Nothing much. He’s not making the big bucks you’d expect a lawyer from an ivy league law school would make. Mainly because he’s rarely in his office. He likes to play poker for high stakes. Runs up debts to unnamed sources.”
“To friends of Len Lyons?”
“Coincidentally, yes.”
I frowned. “I can’t reconcile what you’re telling me about Len Lyons with a guy who was romantically involved with Felicity.”
“Me, neither, but that part seems genuine. I spoke to Carol Barnes, who owns the shop where Felicity works. Carol said Len stopped by at least five times to see Felicity. He seemed enchanted by her. Once he brought her flowers. When he left, Felicity asked Carol if she could keep them in the shop because she didn’t want Corinne to ask where they came from.”
“The Roberts sisters sound odder and odder. But getting back to Sadie, even if she knew Len Lyons, as most of us did, that doesn’t mean she killed him.”
Murder the Tey Way: A Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mystery (The Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mysteries 2) Page 6