The Outsmarting of Criminals: A Mystery Introducing Miss Felicity Prim

by Rigolosi, Steven

  Miss Prim’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh, Lorraine, I am of course flattered and honored …”

  Lorraine laughed heartily, and Miss Prim was delighted to hear these sounds of merriment emanating from her friend. “Relax, Felicity! I was just kidding. I’d never do that to you.”

  Miss Prim smiled. “This is for the best, Lorraine. With an aide to watch over Lucian, you and I will have more time to spend together. And I predict that the two of us will engage in quite a number of escapades over the coming years.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” Lorraine responded, clicking the hidden door shut.

  *

  As Miss Prim added the finishing touches to the diet cinnamon, chocolate, and apricot rugelach that she was preparing for Martin Reed, Bruno jumped up and ran to the front door, his tail wagging frantically. Miss Prim dusted her hands on her apron and opened the door to find Kit and Faye standing on her doorstep. The latter carried a box bearing the Sweetcakes Bakery logo.

  “I thought you might like these, Miss Prim,” Faye said. “I’ve heard they’re very popular in New York.”

  Miss Prim took the box and opened it to reveal several dozen black-and-white cookies. Their waistline-increasing charms must be guarded against, of course, but they could be placed on a serving platter and offered to guests while Miss Prim indulged in one or two as a sort of reward for having survived Doctor Poe’s nefarious plot.

  Miss Prim brought her cup of tea and a black-and-white cookie to the couch. Faye sat on one side of her, Kit on the other, and the assembled Greenfieldians listened raptly as Lucian relived his days of serving as one of King Arthur’s knights. He found Lancelot to be an inspiring leader, he said, but thought Guinevere was overrated. He’d just begun regaling his audience with stories about the unpredictable effects of Merlin’s potions when the front door burst open.

  The latest visitor to Rose Cottage was Miss Gladys Lavelle. The smoke pouring from her nose and ears hinted that she was not pleased.

  “I knew it!” she hissed venomously, pointing a long, bony index finger at Miss Prim. “It’s not enough for you to get yourself kidnapped to elicit the town’s sympathy. No, you won’t be happy until you’ve put everyone in Greenfield under your spell, you … you … witch! If the adults of Greenfield allow you to enchant them, there’s nothing I can do about it. But I will not—I repeat, I will not—stand by while you try to charm unsuspecting children. Faye! Kit! Come with me this instant.”

  “Miss Lavelle, please,” Faye said, embarrassed. “I don’t know why you think such bad things about Miss Prim, but you’re wrong about her.”

  “Listen to me, Faye,” Miss Lavelle said. “I’ve been on this planet a lot longer than you have, and I know evil when I see it. You and your brother are too young, and too naïve, to understand what’s happening.”

  As Miss Prim watched the proceedings in desperation, Lorraine sprang to her feet.

  “Gladys Lavelle, I’ve had quite enough of you. Nobody invited you, so why don’t you take yourself back to the hole you crawled out of?”

  “Don’t order me around, Lorraine Koslowski. If that’s who you are, underneath that ridiculous wig and all that makeup.”

  “Gladys, this nonsense is going to stop right now,” Lorraine shot back. “You’re incredibly threatened by Miss Prim. Anyone with two eyes can see it. Most people in Greenfield think they know why—because you’re an angry, bitter, jealous old cow. But I know the real reason.”

  Miss Lavelle stared daggers at Lorraine. “You don’t know anything, Lorraine.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Gladys. I did a little checking around, and you know what I discovered? Something interesting about the house that Faye and Kit live in. You bought it twenty years ago, and you and your lawyers concocted a story about their mother and father leaving it to them as an inheritance. Gil Fellowes keeps a copy of all the property records in Greenfield, in case you didn’t know. He left the doors unlocked one night, and I found all the documentation I needed without asking for his help. So the question is: Why would Gladys Lavelle, who wouldn’t throw a life vest to a drowning man, buy a house and give it to two strangers? I’ll tell you why.” Lorraine’s voice lost its volume and became gentler. “Because they’re not strangers. Faye and Kit are your children, aren’t they?”

  Miss Gladys Lavelle appeared lost for words.

  “I’ve heard the rumors, Gladys. So has Lucian. We know you took extended vacations around the times that Faye and Kit were born. You knew Ethan Prothero would never leave his wife, so you went to the country and gave birth to the children, and then you paid a relative to raise them. You waited for Faye to become an adult so that you could bring them here and finally be close to them. And it’s making you insane that your children like Miss Prim more than they like you.”

  Miss Lavelle stood silent, the burning fury in her eyes turning to something softer as she gazed upon the shocked faces of Faye and Kit.

  Faye spoke quietly. “Is it true, Miss Lavelle?”

  Miss Lavelle blinked her eyes once and nodded. Miss Prim thought she’d never seen a woman so valiantly fighting back tears.

  “I sensed it, Miss Lavelle,” Faye said, wonderingly. “I just knew it, somehow, somewhere, without really knowing why.” And with that she rose from the couch, walked to her mother, and embraced her. Without a word, Kit joined the embrace as Miss Lavelle stroked her children’s hair.

  “I’m a fool,” Miss Lavelle said quietly. “I chose a man over my children, and I’ve done nothing but regret it for the last two decades. I just wanted to be near you for a few years, to have some time with you before you went into the world. It was selfish, I know. As always, Gladys Lavelle thought of herself first, and everyone else second.”

  She reluctantly extricated herself from her children’s embrace. “Miss Prim, I don’t blame you for not wanting me here. I’ll go now.” She turned to leave.

  “Don’t go,” Miss Prim said. “Please stay. Can’t you see, your children want to be with you? Everyone in this room wants you to say. I want you to stay.”

  Miss Lavelle couldn’t take it any more. She dissolved into tears. Of joy.

  *

  Miss Prim’s other guests began to trickle into Rose Cottage. First Spike Fremlin arrived on the arm of a quite handsome but rather short man. “Hey, Miss Slim. I think you forgot to invite me! No worries, I’m not offended. This is Killer. Killer Abramowitz.” Killer smiled at Miss Prim. “He’s an accountant down at the courthouse,” Spike explained. “Not bad looking, eh? Killer, get me something to eat, would you? Those cookies look good. Hey, Miss Slim, did you ever get all that dust taken care of in your attic? Cause I’m highly allergic and I’d hate to have to leave early …”

  Miss Prim got a reprieve when the doorbell rang again. She detached herself from Spike to welcome Martin and Valeska Reed. Valeska cast a skeptical glance at Miss Lavelle (who was sitting on the couch, deep in conversation with Faye and Kit) and raised her eyebrows questioningly at Miss Prim. “Very long story,” Miss Prim whispered. “But, suffice it to say, a happy ending.”

  “Do I smell rugelach, Miss Prim?” Valeska asked. Miss Prim nodded. “I don’t suppose you have cinnamon-raisin? You do? That’s Martin’s favorite. Wait here, my love, while I fetch us some.”

  Martin Reed looked at his wife with affection and just a bit of puzzlement.

  “You look a bit … dazed … Officer Reed,” Miss Prim observed.

  “It’s my wife,” Reed said, in an astonished tone of voice. “When I wasn’t looking, she turned back into the woman I fell in love with. Isn’t she something?”

  “She certainly is,” Miss Prim agreed, as Valeska returned. Martin took a piece of dietetic cinnamon-raisin rugelach in one hand and his wife’s hand in the other.

  Miss Prim had just unveiled a plate of dietetic cinnamon rolls, to the oohs and aahs of her guests, when the doorbell rang again. Dolly rose to answer it. A moment later, a familiar scent wafted across Miss Prim’s nose
. She looked up to find two unexpected guests: her sister Celia on Maude’s arm.

  “Sister!” Miss Prim exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “I simply couldn’t wait, Sister,” Celia said. “This was something to tell you in person, not on the phone, so I hopped on the train and took a cab into town from Two Oaks. After such a journey, I was feeling quite thirsty, so I thought it could not hurt to stop at the tavern for some refreshment.” She winked at Miss Prim. “And Maude here, being a true gentleman, insisted on escorting me to Rose Cottage. Well, I certainly could not turn down such an inviting offer; so here we are. Maude, would you mind mingling for a bit while I talk with my sister? I shan’t be long.”

  Maude nodded graciously and unlinked his arm from Celia’s.

  “Oh, my,” Celia said. “It’s such a relief to be out of physical contact with him. He quite distracts me.”

  “Sister,” Miss Prim said with a grin, “you are simply incorrigible.”

  “Yes, I am,” Celia agreed. “And in addition to being incorrigible, I am tenacious. I have the most wonderful news. I have found our sister.”

  Surviving the kidnapping attempts of a suitor was a good reason to be happy, but this—this was cause for even greater celebration.

  “Oh, Sister!” Miss Prim exclaimed. “I have so much to tell you about what has happened since we last spoke. But all of that can wait. Tell me everything.”

  As Dolly rooted around in the refrigerator behind them, Celia launched into her tale. “After hours of combing the Manhattan records hall, I located Aunt Ada. She had lived for many years on the Upper West Side, but she died about ten years ago. I went to the building in which she had lived for so many years and began knocking on doors, hoping to find a neighbor who would remember her. And I was successful. Across the hall lives a delightful old lady, still quite sharp, who was happy to reminisce about Ada. Her reminiscences were not exactly fond, however. Apparently, Ada was widely disliked. The phrase Mrs. Berry used was ‘hypocritical old prude.’ You know, the type who complained about everyone in the building, minded everyone’s business but her own, and didn’t tip servicepeople at Christmas. In short: one of those spinsters who gives mature unmarried women a bad name.

  “But Mrs. Berry also remembered the niece who had lived with her. She had only lovely things to say about the young woman. Apparently, the two of them had bonded when Mrs. Berry had happened upon the young lady crying in the elevator. She invited Ada’s niece in for a cup of tea, and the niece revealed her life story, which had taken her many years to piece together. And a most revealing story it is.

  “We wondered why Ophelia would not marry Papa. She could not, Sister, because she was already married! She had lived on Long Island with her husband, an abusive man who beat her regularly. In desperation, she fled to her only relative, the aforementioned Aunt Ada, who reluctantly took her in. Ophelia filed divorce papers, but her husband was insanely jealous and he refused to grant her the divorce. And Ophelia feared that her husband would hurt or kill Papa if he were to discover his identity. She was trying to protect Papa, Sister! In the meantime, she got pregnant, which enraged her puritanical aunt, who then took against Papa for having compromised Ophelia’s virtue. Ophelia was thus in a no-win situation. She feared that if she accepted Papa’s offer, her estranged husband would hunt him down and kill him. So she was forced to accede to her aunt’s wishes, because she did not want to be turned out onto the streets with an infant.

  “And we know what happened after that. Poor Ophelia died, and Aunt Ada had to care for the child. Before she died, Ophelia had begged the aunt to change the baby’s last name so that her husband could never find her daughter. So, rather than giving the child the surname Crenshaw, she simply took the letters of Ophelia’s last name, LeFevre, and rearranged them into Veerelf. And—this is the best part, Sister—I have located a Miss Providence Veerelf living on the Lower East Side! I tracked down her home phone number, and I have left several messages, which she has not yet returned. But when I return to Manhattan, I shall go to her apartment building and sleep on her doorstep, if need be, until she returns.”

  Before Miss Prim could say a word—for the stunning truth had destroyed her ability to speak—she heard a bowl crash to the floor behind her. She and Celia turned to see Dolly standing there, an inscrutable expression on her face.

  “Celia,” she said slowly, “my last name is Veerelf. And my given name is Providence. My second-grade teacher nicknamed me Dolly, and I’ve used it ever since.”

  Miss Prim struggled to find her voice. “Dolly, how can we have known each other all these years, and yet I never knew that Providence is your given name?”

  “I don’t tell anyone, Miss Prim. I just don’t like my name, and I never have. It brings back horrible memories of growing up with my great aunt Ada. I put that name on a back shelf when she died, and I never thought it would see the light of day, ever again.”

  It was Celia’s turn to be shocked.

  “But, can this mean,” she sputtered, “that … that … you, Dolly, are our sister?”

  “I think that’s exactly what it means,” Dolly said. Then she added, touching Miss Prim’s and Celia’s arms simultaneously, “Sisters.”

  *

  Oh, what a joyous day, Miss Prim thought, her eyes sweeping over her guests. Celia and Dolly stood in one corner, talking animatedly and occasionally embracing, while Maude stood protectively over Celia, gazing at her with alarmingly adoring eyes. Spike Fremlin and Killer Abramowitz inspected the bric-a-brac as Spike engaged in a running monologue that Killer appeared to find simultaneously fascinating and incomprehensible. Martin Reed stood with his arm around Valeska’s waist as his wife leaned into the crook of his arm. Miss Gladys Lavelle looked transformed; in the space of an hour, her face had shed twenty years. Lorraine and Lucian watched the proceedings like elder statespeople, with Lucian prattling to Lorraine, who responded to her quasi-husband’s stories with lingering glances of adulation.

  Miss Prim lowered her head for a moment—the whole day had been overwhelming. So many plot turns in such little time! How had she not picked up on the anagram of LeFevre into Veerelf? This was perhaps one of the most overused, hackneyed elements of crime fiction, and any savvy reader would have seen it coming. But the epiphany had eluded her completely. Which meant, she supposed, that she still had a lot of learning to do before becoming an expert criminal outsmarter. Why, she’d even done the worst thing a criminal outsmarter could do—she had jumped to conclusions! All along she’d assumed that Alexander had been murdered, but he’d died of natural causes. She made a mental note: Guard against trusting circumstantial evidence in the future.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Sister,” Celia said, as she entered the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea for Maude.

  “I wouldn’t call them thoughts, Sister,” Miss Prim replied, “but rather feelings. Feelings of deep happiness and gratitude.”

  “We are indeed lucky, Sister,” Celia replied. “As always, the cards predicted all of it. It is indeed comforting to know in this unpredictable world that the cards never lie.”

  “As grateful as I am,” Miss Prim said quietly, “I cannot help but feel that everything is just a bit too … coincidental. Surely, if these events took place in a novel, readers would complain about too much coincidence. Even those lovely readers who willingly suspend disbelief.”

  Celia considered this. “Sister, what you call coincidence, I call cosmic alignment. All the events of the past week have been leading us here, inexorably. We cannot, should not, and must not fight Fate, especially when it has been so good to us. Now, I’ll hear no more of this coincidence nonsense. Come, sit with me and Dolly.”

  32

  The Things We Do for Love

  Miss Prim and her guests had settled in a circle in the parlor, talking about everything in general and nothing in particular, sharing anecdotes from their childhoods, travels, and life experiences. From the peals of laughter emanating from Rose
Cottage, a bystander would not have guessed that just 24 hours earlier two of the inhabitants had been held captive in a quasi-deserted farmhouse.

  When the doorbell rang, Miss Prim’s heartbeat accelerated slightly. Only two guests had yet to arrive, and she was not sure she truly wanted to see one of them. She excused herself from the conversational circle and opened the door to find three men standing on her doorstep: two expected, one unexpected. The expected guests were Detective Ezra Dawes and Doctor Amos Poe. The unexpected was Benjamin Bannister.

  Before she could say a word, Benjamin rushed to take Miss Prim’s hand. “Miss Prim, I expect I’m the last person you want to see right now. But I wanted to help Doctor Poe and Dolly explain everything to you.”

  Dolly, a.k.a. Providence, appeared at Miss Prim’s side. “Benjamin, Doctor Poe, something incredible has happened here today,” she said. “I’ll tell you about it later, but now we have to come clean with Miss Prim. Let’s get it over with.”

  Doctor Poe stepped forward. Miss Prim noticed he was not wearing handcuffs or the orange jumpsuit that would have branded him as a criminal. He looked a bit dazed; but more than that, he looked embarrassed.

  “Dolly, Benjamin, I appreciate your offer, but I need to talk with Miss Prim alone. This was my idea, and I conscripted the two of you into it. I bear all responsibility in this matter.” He looked directly at Miss Prim. “Miss Prim, I fully expect you will never wish to lay eyes on me again after you’ve heard my story. But it is a tale that must be told. May we speak somewhere in private?”

  Looking at Doctor Poe—the man for whom she had held more affection and esteem than she held for any other man on Earth, except Papa—Miss Prim’s somewhat angry heart melted.

  “Yes, Doctor Poe. Let us sit in the backyard, and I shall listen to everything you have to say. Detective, Benjamin: Help yourself to refreshments. Come, Doctor. I shall show you the backyard, though I suspect you have already seen it. It was you running through it several nights ago, was it not?”