“How do you know that?”
“He has been trying to communicate with you for some time now. When you wouldn’t respond, he approached Florence to pass on his name to you and ask that you allow the channel between you to open.”
Hah.
When I reached the door, she spoke once more. “I let Wisty know about Tommy being found. I don’t know if she understood me, but I am going to bring her to the reunion next Saturday. If you talk to her, please remember that her grasp on this world is tenuous at best and we don’t want to drive her further within herself. Tommy’s funeral is Tuesday morning and the burial is in the family section of the cemetery. I would like it if you came. Just don’t tell anyone else. We could have a media circus if the time and place are known to the public.”
On my way out I ran into Twyla again as she was ushering in a family client, Challis Pembrooke. A few years ago, I had attended her wedding to a cousin, another Thomas.
I said to her, “You might want to come back another time, Challis. Florence and Luke are having an off day.
My rear end escaped trauma by a hair when Twyla slammed the screen door.
CHAPTER 13
I was rockin’. The Crystals, my favourite female band from the sixties, was belting out “Da Doo Ron Ron” on the CD player, and I put the pedal to the metal as I turned off Highway 22 onto County Road 12 that led to Hammersleigh House. The windows were open and I hung my left arm out to catch the wind. You can’t get that feeling with the windows closed and the air conditioner blasting in your face.
With about two hundred yards to go before reaching Hammersleigh’s iron gates, I slowed down and glanced into the rear-view mirror. Something I should have done a bit earlier. A blue and white cruiser passed me and pulled up in front of the gates, blocking the entrance.
How fast had I been moving? I hadn’t paid attention. And what was the speed limit on the concession road anyway? I couldn’t remember that either. I mean, I was normally a lawful driver.
The lights on top of the cruiser were whirling, and when I turned off the music and the ignition, I could hear the last low notes of the siren fading away. I knew the officer was going to be Tammie Wilberts even before she stepped out and strode toward me. And it wasn’t clairvoyance either. Given the way my day had been going so far, there could be no alternative.
She stuck her frizzy little head in my window. “Do you know how fast you were going?”
“Eighty?”
She snorted and pulled out a summons book and pen. “Try a hundred and four.”
“Oh, surely not. I never…”
“Do you know what the speed limit is?”
“Eighty?”
Another snort. The officer was a woman of few sounds.
“Okay, seventy?”
“The speed limit on all county roads is sixty kilometres per hour. So let’s see, a hundred and four in a sixty. Do you know how many demerit points that is?”
“One?”
“You wish. I should take you in for dangerous driving. Let me see your driver’s license and registration. And proof of insurance.”
I dug the stuff out for her, all the while thinking how unfair this was. The police never ticketed a speeder for the full clock. Everybody knew that. If they caught you doing a hundred and four in a sixty, they wrote you up for seventy-five, eighty tops. Not only would this get me a whopping fine, but I’d lose most of my points. If my license was suspended, it would be a long, frosty walk into town and out the other end come winter to get to my job. Maybe Conklin would chauffeur me in Uncle Patrick’s Lincoln.
Maybe in another plane of existence.
I located the insurance information in the glove compartment and was handing it to her when another cruiser pulled up behind my car. There were no lights or sirens this time, and Ronnie Guilbert got out and walked up beside Tammie.
With a glance at me, he pulled Tammie away a distance and talked to her in a low voice. Whatever he said, she wasn’t buying. At one point, I thought she was going to hurl her hat to the ground and stomp on it. She gestured at me, then back up the road, then back to me again. I wondered what lies she was telling Ronnie about my driving.
Flinging both arms up to the heavens, she strode back to me and snatched the insurance, license and registration information from my fingers. The freckles stood out lividly on her pale face. She scribbled on her little pad, signed it and thrust it at me. I used her pen to sign my name and was relieved to note she had ticketed me for doing seventy-five in a sixty. I was afraid to thank her.
Grabbing her copy of the ticket and her pen back, she galloped to her cruiser, turned the vehicle around and sped off. I figured she was doing over a hundred by the time she reached the highway.
I got out of my car on shaky legs and waited for Ronnie to join me. I saw a lecture coming on, not that I didn’t deserve it, but I wasn’t in the mood.
“I know, Ronnie, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was driving so fast and I won’t do it again. I’m not a speeder, you know. And thanks for intervening for me.”
He took off his hat and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. His hair was damp from the humidity and his pleasant face was almost as red as his hair. “Okay, Lyris, I won’t chew you out, but I hope you’ll stay out of Tammie’s way in the future. You seem to bring out the worst in her. I’ve never seen her try to write someone up for the clocked speed before. Not that she wasn’t within the law.” He looked at me to satisfy himself that I got the picture.
“She seems to hate me. I wish I knew why?” That was just a fishing expedition. I knew full well why. I just wondered if he did.
Ronnie gave me a look that said he knew I knew perfectly well Tammie had a thing for Marc and didn’t appreciate me cutting her out before she even let Marc know how she felt.
“Just try and stay out of Tammie’s way, will you Lyris?” Then he, too, made a U-turn―I thought they were illegal?―and drove off even faster than his comrade.
A half hour later, I watched Caroline taking out objects from one of the cabinets and dusting them with one of those feather duster things, except it was bright green polyester. Or maybe parrot feathers. Yes, Ronnie was a distinct possibility. But was she ready for another relationship yet? If she hadn’t recovered from her current relationship, then she could hurt Ronnie, and that would not be acceptable. Or Ronnie could toy with her affections and hurt her. That wouldn’t be so great either. Maybe I should just mind my own business?
That last thought just popped into my head, and I liked to think it was my common sense talking, not a guide from the astral plane.
I had changed from the denim skirt and white cotton blouse I wore to Aunt Clem’s into black shorts and a sleeveless, pink T-shirt. The house was cooler than outside, but not as comfortable as I knew the employees’ air-conditioned wing would be. How I longed to stretch out on the couch in the lounge and relax. Anything would be better than this brocade sofa, which was never meant to be sprawled on. I eased my upper back away from a sprung spring. You couldn’t see it, but it was there waiting for someone to try and relax on it.
We were in the parlour, which was across the hall from the drawing room, and as far as I was concerned, the two rooms were interchangeable. Both had ornate fireplaces, eight-foot windows and lots of beautiful antique furniture to sit on. As long as you sat on it, you were fine. Just don’t lie down.
I felt a little guilty watching Caroline work while I loafed. But then everybody had his or her job to do, except…
“Hey, Caroline. Why are you doing that today? This is Sunday, your day off, remember?”
“I know Lyris, but I thought since I only started yesterday, I didn’t need a day off so soon. I’ll just finish this cabinet, then maybe have a nap. Since I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She gave the tiny glass globe a final flick and returned it to the cabinet. The globe reminded me of Aunt Clem’s crystal ball and I shuddered.
I sat up so quickly I gave myself a head rush, my blood pressure being
on the low side. When the spots in front of my eyes cleared, I ran across the hall to the drawing room. A missing doll?
The doll cabinet was still locked, and nothing looked disturbed. There were no gaps or empty places in the rows of beautiful faces that looked out at me. Unless someone had moved them, like I did when I took Amelia out.
Amelia.
I raced past a startled Caroline and took the stairs two at a time. As soon as I entered my room, I knew she was gone. The window seat was empty, as were the bed and the chairs. Just to make sure, I opened the wardrobe and searched through all the drawers, under the bed, everywhere.
I spent a frantic five minutes looking through the five other bedrooms, both bathrooms and I even stuck my head in the tower room. No Amelia.
Downstairs, my luck was no better. Amelia was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t disappear into thin air. Caroline was making a cup of tea in the kitchen, and she dropped her tea bag when I grabbed her by the arm. “Have you seen Amelia.”
“Who’s Amelia? Is somebody here?”
“Amelia is an antique doll, a Juneau. She was sitting on my window seat and now she’s gone.”
“To be honest, Lyris, I haven’t been into the bedrooms upstairs yet. I thought I would look around tomorrow. When did you see the doll last?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” I was beside myself. Not only was Amelia a very valuable doll, but I had loved her ever since I was a little girl and first saw her in Uncle Patrick’s doll cabinet. And it was my fault she was missing. I should never have taken her out of that cabinet.
“Caroline, would you look through the employees’ wing, just in case Jacqueline or Rasputin dragged her out of my room? And where’s Conklin?”
Conklin was in his pantry counting the silver or polishing it, whatever it was he did with it. The three of us searched the house from top to bottom. Conklin even looked through the empty former servants’ bedrooms on the third floor.
Conklin wore his prune face the whole time and cast disapproving glances in my direction. I was too upset to care. After an hour, we had to concede defeat. Amelia was nowhere in the house. Somebody had taken her.
“Perhaps you should call the police, Madam. The officer, if you remember, asked us to contact her if we found anything else was missing.” Conklin was looking less immaculate than usual, a trifle dry and dusty in fact. And I noticed he didn’t offer to make the call himself.
“I think I’ll go to the police station in person.”
Since Tammie Wilberts was recently on patrol, harassing innocent taxpayers, she was unlikely to be in the station now. Didn’t the woman ever sleep? She was here last night too. But I wasn’t going to chance her answering the phone. And Marc had said he was planning to be in his office for a few hours that afternoon.
I drove a virtuous sixty on the county road, enraging the driver of a red pickup who pulled out of the Gates of Heaven Cemetery behind me, then a lawful eighty on the highway into town, where it changed to forty or fifty. I couldn’t remember, so I drove forty with the same red pickup tailgating me all the way, wanting to pass, but finding no suitable spot. The driver parked half a block from the police station, while I stopped right in front. When he got out, I noticed it was Scott Fournier. He gave me a friendly wave.
I returned the gesture. “Right back at you.”
He turned and walked away from his truck in the direction of Spangles Bar and Grill. Funny. I wondered what he had been doing in the cemetery. His family would be buried in the Northton cemetery.
Tammie was not on dispatch duty. It was a kid about seventeen with a buzz cut and a pimple on his chin, and someone had given him a policeman’s uniform. He had the phone crunched between ear and shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, go on.” He wrote on a printed form.
He didn’t notice me, so I walked behind him and slipped into Marc’s office. Some security. I closed the door and leaned back against it.
Marc looked up in surprise, and then his wonderful smile transformed the handsome features. God, he was a babe. I still couldn’t believe he wanted me when he could have any woman in town.
I felt like having a little fun. It was the devil made me do it. If there were spirit guides, they weren’t on the job, or they would have stopped me.
“I’ve come to confess.” I fluttered my eyelashes. At least I hoped they were fluttering flirtatiously, but it probably looked like I had a nervous tic in both eyes. I was not a flirty girl.
“Oh, really. What have you done now?”
Good, he hadn’t heard about the ticket yet.
He put his pen down and swivelled his chair toward the door. He was wearing shorts and a black T-shirt with a police logo and a caption that read “Speed Kills.”
I couldn’t take my mind off his thighs. I swear you could bounce a quarter off that man’s thighs. Or his stomach. I clicked the lock on the door.
I moved over to sit on the arm of his chair. “I’ve been a bad girl.”
He glanced at the door. His skin flushed.
“It’s locked. I’m a bad girl and you’re the good cop, and I have to be punished.” I slid off the arm of the chair onto his lap and put my arms around his neck.
He froze. With his eyes glued to the door, he pulled on my arms to unwrap them. “What’s got into you? You better sit on the chair over there.”
“I like it better here. Haven’t you ever played games in this office before?”
“Just Hangman. Lyris, cut it out and get up. Someone might come in.”
I clung tighter. “Relax. The door is locked. And this is more fun than Hangman. Are you telling me you never played Bad Girl/Good Cop with anyone else in this room?”
“I never heard of Bad Girl/Good Cop. And I never had a woman sit on my knee in my office. I could get fired for this.”
“Nonsense. You’re the chief. You’re the chief policeman and I’m a very bad girl. So what are you going to do about it?”
With a mighty heave, Marc stood up and pried my fingers loose. He took me by the shoulders and pushed me into the visitor’s chair. “Now sit there and don’t move.”
He sat back in his own chair and pulled the neck of his T-shirt to loosen it. I reached over and ran my fingers down his thigh.
He brushed my fingers aside and looked at me. “Why don’t you ever do that when we’re alone? I wouldn’t say no under other circumstances.”
“We’re as alone here as we are in my Conklin-infested house. Or in your twin‑filled bungalow. But okay, I’ll just sit in my chair and be good. I have a crime to report anyway. Amelia is missing.”
“Who is Amelia?”
“What.”
“I said, who is Amelia?”
“No, I mean Amelia is a what. She’s a doll.”
I thought I saw his left eye twitch. Probably a trick of the light, but I figured it was time to cut the kidding and get down to business. I explained about Amelia.
He pulled a folder from his in-basket and added the information. “How much is the doll worth.”
“About forty-five hundred dollars.”
He looked up in surprise. “Would this be general knowledge? That’s a lot of money for a doll.”
“Probably not. But all the items taken were all sitting around, not locked up. The two pieces from the sideboard in the hall and Amelia from my room. And there were so many people in and out of the house in the past couple of days—the cleaners, the plant man, Peter and his friends to move the furniture, Caroline and her husband. I can’t remember who all.”
I didn’t mention the dinner party guests, but I’m sure he remembered there were eight extra people in the house last evening alone. It was unthinkable that any one of them would have taken the doll and the other pieces.
“Lyris, I want you to make a list of everyone who has been in the house since the last time you saw the doll. Everyone.” He gave me a look that was meant to be stern, but merely stirred my blood. “And quit looking at me like that. At least until later.”
�
��We’ll see about that.” I got up and moved toward the door.
When my hand was on the knob, Marc asked, “Lyris, how do you play Bad Girl/Good Cop?
I opened the door. “Let’s just say it involves a jar of jasmine massage oil and a string of twinkle lights. The white mini ones. Oh, and a peacock feather.” I closed the door behind me with a soft click.
On the way home, my mind kept switching back and forth between two dilemmas.
First, when did I last see Amelia. I couldn’t for the life of me remember. Before the dinner party? After? Or after Peter and his friends moved my bedroom furniture?
Second, why did I make up that stupid game? One day, I would have to come up with a bedroom frolic that included jasmine massage oil, twinkle lights and a feather. The massage oil was plausible. I could see a use for that, and maybe even the feather. But the twinkle lights? And all in keeping with the theme of a very bad girl and an officer of the law.
Once again, my mouth runneth over.
CHAPTER 14
Nothing disturbed my rest that night, and I showed up for breakfast eager to strike items off my reunion list. I crossed the kitchen to the cupboard, where I kept my tea collection.
A movement from the corner by the window startled me. I turned, but saw nothing more threatening than Caroline holding an ice pack to her chin.
“What happened to you? Are you hurt?” I gently pried the pack away from her face, unable to restrain a gasp when I saw the livid bruise on the left side of her jaw.
She covered the injury again. “I’m fine, honest. I’m so clumsy. I walked into my bathroom door this morning. Don’t worry, Lyris, it will fade in no time.”
“Funny, the time I walked into a door, it was my nose that connected first. Guess mine sticks out more.”
She got up and fussed around the sink, although there was nothing left to clean. The kitchen was immaculate.
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