She was as calm as ever. If I didn’t know better I would assume that she was senile and didn’t understand the gravity of her situation. But I DID know better. And Hattie was anything but senile. She was playing her cards close to her chest for some reason.
Exactly who was this Cyrus person? Hattie mentioned a shared past. I turned to my very own database of information - Clara. She had access to all the newspaper data banks, the internet, and other secret sources of information that reporters turn to when they need background.
“Well. What did you find out?” I asked Clara when we were finally alone.
“I found out that there is more to Cyrus Vanderfield than meets the eye. He comes from a prominent family who once lived in Athena. They moved to New York when they became multimillionaires. There was some sort of scandal because of his playboy lifestyle, but the family did a stupendous cover up.”
“Interesting. I know that Hattie was engaged once and her fiancé dumped her when she had to have breast surgery. Could that be one and the same? Hattie is full of surprises but I never figured on an ex-boyfriend showing up in the picture.”
I kept Clara’s report to myself for now. Suzy and Tony did their respective chores and afterward secluded themselves. Tony had opened a new business and that took a lot of his time, plus they were still in honeymoon mode.
Amy was happily adjusting to living alone. She planned to acquire a French bulldog and name him .
Tom engaged our lawyer and Hattie was out on bail. It wasn’t likely she would skip town. If the Athena police couldn’t outrun a ninety-year-old resident of Golden Palms on a scooter, then we needed to rethink our security.
Debra kept the home fires burning. Thanks to her culinary skills we enjoyed a scrumptious meal of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Tom’s attitude toward Debra being a long term house guest softened considerably. Especially after tasting her strawberry shortcake with whipped cream.
Congeniality on the home front was crucial. Debra and I would be spending a big chunk of time together. Then there was the crime scene/murder investigation holding up everything and challenging our good natures. It looked like in spite of Debra’s strict schedule we were going to be delayed considerably with one of our primary actors in police custody.
By the time we were ready for dress rehearsals with props, staging, and costumes, the police determined that Cyrus had been murdered elsewhere. With that decision we were allowed back into the Community Playhouse which was a big relief especially for Debra. This dress rehearsal called for Mortimer, Elaine, the Brewster sisters, and Mr. Hoskins. We needed the window seat as a prop along with a dummy that took the place of the departed.
Detective Kenny allowed Hattie to attend rehearsals under his watchful eye. After all how far could she get on a scooter that ran 5 miles per hour?
Debra announced, “Can I have the protagonist over here and the antagonist in the waiting area, please?” The cast looked around like they had no idea what she said, which they didn’t.
She tried again. “Good guys over here. Bad guys over there,” and pointed to what we christened the ‘green room.’
First scene went okay as the curtains open on Abby and Martha. They are at the table where the sisters offer Mr. Hoskins a sip of homemade elderberry wine. Mr. Hoskins aka the town grocer succumbs. The sisters manage to place him in the window seat. Teddy makes his entrance. Debra jots down a few notes on her clipboard.
Howard’s voice boomed “Bully” as he raced down the stairs. “I’ll be back,” he announced. His next scene was to return and say that he was about to dig the Panama Canal where he would hoist a shovel and provide a permanent resting place for Mr. Hoskins as soon as Happy Hour is over at his Somewhere Bar. Right now I could use one of his adult libations.
Reverend Harper played by our lawyer stopped by to collect a box for charity. He forgot his lines but Derek covered for him. Mortimer and Elaine announce their engagement. Just at that moment Mortimer opens the window box to collect the items for charity and sees dead Mr. Hoskins.
“Cut,” Debra shouted. The cast gather round for comments about their performance thus far.
“Hattie you’ve nailed the part of Abby. Blanche you play a good submissive sister, just remember you have a backbone too. Howard, you are a fine Teddy. Keep the energy high.”
“Derek, be sure you express on your face the shock of finding a dead body in the window seat. The audience knows but wants confirmation that these sweet elderly women have just poisoned a gentleman and not only that but there are more in the basement. Just imagine that Cyrus is still in there.”
“Clara. Continue to give Derek that adoring look every time he does something, even if it doesn’t make sense. The rest of you good work. Let’s give it another run through.”
I focused on every line, every prop, and facial expression. It had been two weeks of daily and nightly rehearsals. We had improvised on items that we couldn’t find or provide with no real damage to the hilarious dark comedy which was playing out on stage and in real life.
Autopsy results came back on dear departed Cyrus Vanderfield. The cause of death was poisoning – arsenic poisoning. Even more chilling since he had elderberry wine as part of his stomach contents.
6
I called an emergency meeting of the Thursday Club at Pauline’s Café. Everyone showed up pretty promptly except for Clara. Her explanation was that she was re-painting the flag on her mailbox.
“It took me over an hour to paint that little flag red,” she explained.
“Why did it take you so long?” I asked.
“Because the only red paint I had was fingernail polish. That brush is so tiny it took forever to get the flag covered with Paint the Town Red.”
Amy and Suzy shook their head and looked at me with a ‘you had to ask’ expression. I turned attention to the matter at hand. When I had everyone’s attention I revealed the cause of death form the autopsy report. There was complete silence for all of two minutes. Then Clara who had reclaimed her position as the Voice of Reason asked, “Do you think it’s someone in the cast?”
I shook my head. “There’s no way to know.”
Hattie looked impressively wise in her brown caftan and flowery yellow wisps in her hair. She resembled the owl in the Winnie the Pooh books, but you didn’t hear that from me.
“Not too many people make their own wine anymore,” she reasoned. “Elderberry is an acquired taste even for poor ol’ Cyrus who’d drink hooch, mouthwash, and anything else containing alcohol. Believe me I know.”
I scanned each face. “Who in the area still makes elderberry wine either for themselves or to sell?”
No one seemed to know. Another riddle to be solved.
“We have motive, opportunity, and means – which we already know. Well we know it was poisoned wine. What we don’t know is where the wine came from and how it got poisoned.”
I looked at Amy and thanked her for reiterating the obvious.
“Who’d want to murder Cyrus? He seemed harmless enough. Unless it was an accident and he wasn’t the intended. That takes things to another level,” Suzy said.
“I never thought about that. Good point, Suzy,” I said.
“Who knows anything about Cyrus Vanderfield’s past?” I asked even though Clara and I knew the answer.
“Was he a native Athenian or did he move here from somewhere else? Does he have family?”
Hattie remained stoic. If we were to find out anything it would have to be on our own. She was definitely protecting someone. Just how far was she willing to go? Being out on bail for suspicion of murder was no light matter. In any other burg, she’d be behind bars. I kept waiting for Neal or another FBI/CIA relative to show up like the Cavalry in a western.
“I have to get back before Debra gets suspicious. Let’s dig into this on our own. Clara, would you continue to search the databases for any information on Cyrus’ liaisons especially any scandals that might have occurred in the past forty years inv
olving his family? Amy and Suzy, check backstage for anything that seems suspicious or unusual. Hattie, could you write down anything you remember about Cyrus and his family connections? I’ll call another meeting soon so we can compile our findings. Please don’t mention this to my sister. She can’t keep a secret.”
“I think we should leave separately,” Clara said. “You know to avoid suspicion.”
“Good idea,” the Langford sisters agreed.
“First me, then the Langfords with Hattie and Clara last,” I directed. “Listen to me I sound like my bossy sister.”
Everyone laughed.
7
It was several years after we were married that I revealed to Tom that Debra was my adopted sister. The subject never came up. She came to us as an infant and I never knew life without her. However, our parents didn’t tell us about the adoption until our teen years. I was fifteen and she was thirteen when our parents called us into the dining room.
Of course all I could do was recount every broken rule, untruth, or incident where we changed a grade, snuck out after hours, or played sick. When they told us the news, I was relieved.
Both our parents were blonde, tanned, slender, and attractive. Debra was all that and more. I thought that I was the one who was adopted. Redheaded and fair, I was the one who didn’t fit with the family genes. She had their athletic prowess, giftedness in music and art while I was a typical math nerd and scholastic overachiever. Nevertheless, Debra took the news well and never asked for details. It didn’t change anything as far as I was concerned. She was and will always be my sister.
I never remember having a conversation about her beginnings. If Debra had curiosity about her roots, she kept it to herself. When her marriage failed, I did wonder if her past had anything to do with it. The only thing I was sure of was that Murray was a wonderful by-product of a ne’er do well ex-husband. Murray was a joy since his first breath. My nephew was handsome, gifted, and his mother’s joy.
Come to think of it, Debra hadn’t mentioned her son since she came to Athena. Unusual for her, she usually updates me on his latest job promotion, trip to some exotic spot, or who he was dating. Of course, we were a little busy what with the play and a murder to solve. That left little down time for family chats or a girls’ night out.
It had been ten days since Cyrus was discovered in the window box of the community production of Arsenic and Old Lace and the police seemed as baffled as ever. The new police chief, Chief Baker, was a woman who was a by-the-book kind of authority. She opposed Kenny’s approach to letting Hattie participate in the play and basically be a ‘free’ woman. However, Baker was too politically savvy to buck someone with as much clout as Kenny had in town politics. I suppose she was minding her Ps and Qs waiting for an opportunity to say “I told you so.” The public outcry of putting Hattie behind bars would destroy any hopes she would ever have in the community.
Mr. Tomkins, our resident grocer whose toupee didn’t match his hair, had to have emergency gall bladder surgery so we were forced to audition for another Mr. Hoskins. The part was small. All he had to do was appear in the first act, drink the tainted elderberry wine, and die. Later on he had to be moved from the window box to the basement where Teddy was digging the Panama Canal. Sergeant Smith, Kenny’s police pal, agreed to fill in for Mr. Tomkins. After all he was at all the rehearsals to keep an eye on Hattie, so he had nothing to do all day. He might as well be in the play. Another wrinkle ironed out. It seemed that all Debra and I did was smooth wrinkles and put out fires.
With everything in a holding pattern as far as solving the murder, I began to think of Debra as a permanent house guest. She showed no anxiety to move on and things between us were becoming less awkward. As I was leaving the house for yet another rehearsal, I discovered I was out of saline to rinse my contact lens. I ventured into the guest bathroom knowing my sister who also wears contact lens would have a supply. I opened the bathroom cabinet and sitting on the lower shelf in prominent view was a bottle of Georgia’s finest elderberry wine.
8
What should I do? Confront my sister? Fingerprints. I can’t touch it. Should I hide it? Call the police? At that moment, the front door closed and a familiar voice yelled, “Hey Roxy, where are you?”
Quickly I closed the cabinet door and scooted into my bedroom where I opened a drawer and pretended I was searching for something. “In here,” I called back to Debra who was clinking ice cubes and running water.
“What a day! I ended rehearsals early. Not to hurt anyone’s feelings but Kenny’s friend is great in the part. Maybe we can put Mr. Tomkins in as an extra when he recovers,” she gasped and flung herself down on my bed. “What ya doing? I thought you’d be helping Miss Meryl with the costumes today. She’s great, a little slow but great. I suppose that’s what you get when you employ seniors.”
Debra was in a great mood. Should I confront her and run the risk of a shouting match ending with her storming out with her five suitcases? Or play it cool and see what happens. I just couldn’t see my sister as a murderer. She’s no angel but murder is completely off her radar.
“Did anyone ever find out where to obtain elderberry wine?” I asked as innocently as I could manage. I watched her eyes flit to the hallway.
“No I don’t believe it ever came up,” she answered. Did her tone change or was it my imagination? Did she know that I knew or only suspected that I knew?
“Your friends, the Thursday Club girls, you call them. Wouldn’t they know of any local wineries that make that sort of thing? Seems like it would be only for certain tastes,” Debra observed.
“Yes. Your absolutely right, sis. I’ll get them on it. By the way you haven’t mentioned Murray one time this visit. Is everything okay with him? Last I heard he was doing some genealogy stuff and traveling. Is he still in Canada?”
“No the last I heard he was in England. But, the plan was to join me here in Athena. I told him about the play and everything. He was anxious to see you and meet your friends. Murray also mentioned that he wanted to check out some sources at the county court house. I didn’t know if you and Tom would have space for another house guest so he made arrangements to stay in a nearby inn, Ruby’s B&B, or something like that,” Debra said.
“I need to get dinner started. Tom will be home soon. Soup and salad okay with you?” I asked.
“I’ve got this. I went shopping after rehearsal. Relax. I’m cooking again tonight and there’ll be plenty for any drop-ins,” Debra laughed and strolled into the guest bedroom and closed the door.
Her mention of drop-ins made me wonder if Murray was already here and she knew it but wasn’t telling her dear old sister. And another thing, Tom used to spend a lot of time at home writing sermons and phoning shut–ins. I noticed that had abruptly halted. With all the craziness in my life I’m getting paranoid.
9
With Debra cooking dinner, I had time to call another emergency meeting of the Thursday Club. Hattie was the first to arrive at Pauline’s. She was in her detective noir mode. Despite the warm Georgia temperatures, she arrived wearing a khaki trench coat and the Fedora she was so fond of. Someone had done her hair so that only a few silver ringlets graced her neck. Hattie must have been a real looker in her prime.
“Well I’m here. Where’s the fire?” Hattie chortled.
“No fire. Just a meeting to compare notes and see if we can sort out this mystery before it becomes any more complicated,” I responded.
“You didn’t come alone, did you?”
“No of course not. Suzy is parking Scarlett. And as usual Amy is giving her directions,” Hattie gave me her trademark smirk. “They’ll be in soon. Order me lemonade while I go to the ladies’.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. No one disobeyed Miss Hattie. If anyone’s else’s fingerprints had been on Cyrus’ body they would be doing time by now but not our Prima Dona. Suzy and Amy walked into Pauline’s and for the first time I can recall, they looked frazzled. Rehearsal must have b
een extremely rigorous.
“Lemonade, ladies?” Pauline inquired.
They nodded, plopped down at my table, and pulled out mirrors to check their make-up, hair, and generally preen.
“Rough day?” I asked. They looked at each other and then at me.
“That doesn’t cover it. If I drank liquor, I’d have a bottle of something strong with a straw. Hattie and Clara run their lines every night. Derek and even the Sargent are fully prepared when play practice begins, but some others whom we won’t mention by name don’t have a clue what to do or where to stand. They are so unprofessional,” Amy huffed. “We have to prompt them on everything.”
“Remember this is all voluntary. It’s a community performance,” I gently reminded her. “There are those who must work day jobs and then come to rehearsal. They have families and that leaves little time for memorizing their lines. That’s why I have an army of script people and people holding cue cards like you, my dear,” I purred.
“What about Debra? Is she doing a good job as director?” I asked. As the words left my lips, Clara and Hattie joined us. Hattie sipped her drink and gave me her best poker face. Clara ordered coffee and proceeded to stir lots of cream. I waited for someone to break the silence. Finally someone did. Me.
“Okay Debra’s my sister and I know that she can be a little bossy and over the top, but please tell me the truth,” I pleaded with the group.
“She’s better at directing that you,” came a timid voice to my left. It was Suzy.
“What?”
“You heard correctly,” Hattie said. “Debra is a good director. She knows how to block scenes, inspire the actors, and give us a hand up or a kick in the butt whatever is required.”
“Well I walked into that one didn’t I? But here’s the thing, today I was in the guest bathroom looking for contact lens solution and I found a bottle of elderberry wine. Now who keeps that in the bathroom cabinet, especially when our current murder victim had wine in his stomach contents?”
Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories Page 24