“Do me a favor, will you?” Edna detected amusement in her daughter’s voice. “Find out if Charlie’s married.”
Eighteen
Mary had taken Hank out for a walk, leaving Edna alone to make her calls. When she finished talking to Starling, Edna dialed Grant’s home number in Arvada, Colorado, a suburb of Denver. It was nearly three o’clock Mountain Time, but all she got was the answering machine. She knew Karissa, Grant’s second wife, didn’t work outside the house, and her granddaughter Jillian should be home from school by now. Maybe they had gone shopping. Karissa loved sales. She loved them so much, she even bought things she didn’t need, simply because they were on sale.
“Hello, everyone,” Edna said when she heard the signal to begin speaking, “it’s Edna here. Just wanted to hear your voices. Sorry I missed you. We’re having quite a rainstorm, and our phone line’s been out for a while. I thought I’d call to let you know I’m fine and I love you all.”
She had already decided not to tell them she was staying at Mary’s. She didn’t want her family to worry, and there was really nothing they could do. She would check her own answering machine periodically. She may not know how to charge a cell phone, but she did remember how to retrieve messages when she was away from home.
“Everyone okay?” Mary appeared in the archway between the kitchen and dining room. Thanks to the wind and rain, her thick mop of red hair appeared frizzier than usual, making her look like a wild woman.
“Fine, everyone’s fine.” Edna didn’t want to go into a long explanation about break-ins and family not being home. She needed a distraction. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight, my treat.” When Mary started to shake her head, Edna held up a hand, palm out. “Please don’t argue. You’ve been very kind, inviting me to stay here. I’d like to do something nice for you. What do you say, Italian or Chinese?”
Mary opted for Italian, saying she knew of a great little place in Narragansett. Picking up Edna’s suitcase from beside the back stairs, she showed her guest to a bedroom above the kitchen. Before they changed to go out, Mary gave Edna a quick tour of the rest of the house. Most of the rooms were closed off, and she merely pointed to doors, saying things like “Mom’s room” and “my old nursery” as they walked through the dark and gloomy hallways of the second and third stories.
The two open rooms she actually took Edna into were on the second floor, Mary’s own bedroom and a small, adjacent sitting room. The furniture was highly polished, and the canopied bed was neatly made. On the floor beside the four-poster was a large, red plaid bed for Hank.
In the little sitting room, two overstuffed chairs framed a small fireplace. A twenty-five inch television stood on a sturdy mahogany table, and on either side of the door leading out to the hallway, the walls consisted of built-in shelves, stuffed to overflowing with books and magazines. A large, round braided rug covered the parquet floor, and an end table with a reading lamp sat next to a floral-patterned settee. Edna guessed this was where Mary spent most of her time. It didn’t escape her attention that the two rooms were on the north side of the house with a fine view of Edna’s own house and backyard patio.
A tour of the top floor led them around to the back stairs and down to Edna’s assigned room above the kitchen. Edna suggested meeting downstairs in fifteen minutes. As she dressed for dinner, she wondered, not for the first time, if Mary had ever thought of moving out of this huge, dismally dark mansion.
The Italian restaurant that Mary had chosen was busy by the time they arrived at six-thirty. Smelling of garlic and marinara sauce, the large main room was warm and hummed with sounds of conversation, clinking glassware and clattering utensils. The two women were shown to a heavy wooden table next to a wall. At the suggestion of the maitre’d, they ordered a small bottle of Chianti Classico.
“This is fun.” Mary raised her glass toward Edna after the waiter had poured the wine and taken their dinner orders. Edna smiled and held up her own goblet in a silent toast. She decided it was not the time to ask Mary for another favor. Not yet.
“Codfish is recovering,” Mary said after swallowing a sip of the Chianti.
“Codfish?”
“Yes. You know, the old guy that Aleda ran down. He’s going to be fine once his broken arm heals. I heard that he should be out of the hospital in a day or two.”
“That’s wonderful.” Once Edna realized what Mary was talking about, she really was happy for the good news. “Does that mean the Sharps won’t be moving after all?”
“Oh, no. Aleda says she can’t ever hold her head up around here again. She nearly killed a man. People don’t forget a thing like that—not around here, they don’t.” Mary’s tone was more matter-of-fact than critical.
And what if he had died? Edna thought of Tom. An involuntary shudder went down her spine as she wondered again if she, too, would be cold-shouldered out of the community and if Albert would be as supportive as Aleda’s husband seemed to be. She reached for her wine and took another swallow. It wouldn’t happen if she could help it, but at least she would try to put it out of her mind for tonight.
As they relaxed and ate their pasta, the two women talked about inconsequential matters. After dinner, they decided to have coffee and an apple pastry for dessert. When this final tidbit had been placed before them, Edna thought it might be a good time to bring up the subject that had been at the back of her mind throughout most of the afternoon. Talking a deep breath and carefully setting her coffee cup on its saucer, she leaned forward, resting her right hand and forearm on the table.
“Mary,” she began hesitantly, “I know you believe the police have been thorough in investigating Tom’s death, but I have my doubts. Would you please talk to Nancy and ask her if she knows where her father’s appointment book is?”
Mary bowed her head for what seemed like several very long minutes. When she finally looked up, there was a stubborn set to her jaw. “Nancy is the only link I have left to Jenny and Tom. She already doesn’t come to visit me anymore because you live next door. Since Danny seems to be the only one who can tell the police where he and his grandfather went last Thursday, she believes you’ll try to harm him somehow. If she thought I was running interference for you, she might not ever speak to me again.”
“But you know better, don’t you? You know I wouldn’t hurt that little boy.”
Mary nodded, her look softening. “Of course, I do.” The hard line returned to her jaw as she said, “But I won’t jeopardize my relationship with Tom and Jenny’s family.”
“Look, I don’t expect you to convince Nancy of my innocence, but can’t you just ask her about the book? She doesn’t have to know you’re doing it for me. Wouldn’t you like to know if it’s been found and what’s in it?”
“Okay. Maybe I’ll call and ask her if she knows something about it.” Mary paused briefly before hurrying on. “But I’m not going to push her. If she doesn’t know anything, then that’s the end of it. Okay?”
Edna nodded, relieved that Mary was at least going to try. She picked up her cup and was taking a sip when Mary said, “Dee Tolkheim seems like a nice person.”
Edna nearly choked on the hot coffee but managed to swallow before embarrassing herself. “She’s a pest, showing up unannounced and unexpected whenever she pleases. I’m beginning to wonder what she wants with me.”
“Maybe she’s lonely.” Mary’s eyes were downcast as she scooped a small piece of apple tart onto her fork. “Didn’t her husband die only a few months ago?” When Edna nodded, Mary continued. “Maybe she just wants someone to talk to.”
The insightfulness of the remark surprised Edna and brought to mind comments that Albert had made to her over the years to the effect that people were drawn to her. “You have a trusting face and a gentle manner,” he’d said. “People like to talk to you because you listen. That’s quite a comforting trait to someone looking for a kind word.”
Edna watched as Mary gazed around the room, seemingly preoccupied. When she finally
turned back, Mary’s eyes were wet, and she blurted out, “Tom promised me …”
At that same moment, their waiter materialized beside the table. “Was everything satisfactory?” Leaning slightly toward Edna, he held a slim black portfolio against his chest. Mary turned her head away.
“Yes, fine.” Edna said, pulling her eyes from Mary’s face. What had she been about to say? What had Tom promised her?
Having to deal with the waiter distracted Edna, as he murmured softly, “I’ll take that whenever you’re ready.”
She held up a hand, signaling for him to stay, and dug the checkbook out of her tote bag. Mentally calculating an adequate but not overly generous tip, she wrote a check and placed it in the black folder. As soon as the waiter departed, after a pleasant “Have a good evening, ladies,” Mary pushed up from her chair and headed toward the front entrance as if she couldn’t wait to leave the place. Edna hurried to catch up.
Rain fell steadily as they raced to Mary’s Jeep in the nearby parking lot. The ground was saturated, and on the blacktop, puddles reflected light from the restaurant and street lamps. The wind had picked up, chilling Edna to the bone as she hoisted herself into the passenger’s seat and pulled on her seat belt. She didn’t know if it was the wine or the spaghetti she’d had, but as the car warmed up, she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. She’d been up since the wee hours of the morning, been frightened nearly to death by intruders, been questioned by the police and banished from her home. All she could think about was getting into a nice, warm bed and sleeping for hours.
Having said nothing since leaving the restaurant, Mary didn’t seem to mind when Edna excused herself from staying up any longer. With feet that felt like they’d been encased in lead, she climbed the back stairs behind Mary and said good night at the door to the guest room, pausing long enough to watch Hank follow her hostess down the hallway while Benjamin scooted into the room between Edna’s feet. The last thing she remembered after changing into her warm flannel nightgown was slipping between the sheets under a mound of blankets and a hand-sewn quilt.
Edna didn’t think she’d slept more than a few minutes when she became at once alert and aware of her surroundings. Something had awakened her, she was certain. The room was dark, but the lighted display on the clock beside her bed showed her it was three-forty-two in the morning. What had disturbed her?
As she strained her ears, listening to the creaks and groans of a strange house, she heard a soft, metallic squeak. Someone was turning the knob on the door to her room. She remained quiet, pulling the covers up to her chin as she stared at the door and the slowly widening crack. A tall figure became silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway. Edna tried to sound more angry than frightened when she demanded, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Edna.” Mary’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I was just checking the house. Go back to sleep.” After she’d backed out and closed the door, the only sound to reach Edna’s ears was Hank’s nails on the wooden floorboards, moving down the hall.
She was furious at Mary for waking her. Turning on her side, Edna punched the pillow and wiggled into a more comfortable position, hoping it wouldn’t take long for her heart rate to slow and sleep to return. Why would Mary be checking the house at this hour of the morning, and why come into her room?
At that thought, Edna’s eyes shot open, and all thoughts of sleep disappeared. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling. Is that really what Mary had been doing, or was she after something else? What would she have done if I hadn’t awakened?
Edna’s mind whirred as she thought back to Mary’s words earlier that evening, “Tom promised me.” Wasn’t that what she’d said? Edna had meant to ask Mary when they left the restaurant, but what with their dash through the rain and her tiredness, she had forgotten. What had Tom promised Mary? To marry her?
She thought of Starling’s question, “Is Mary the woman scorned?” Is she? Edna wondered. And what if she is? Why kill me? Am I getting close to the truth? Tom’s murderer has nothing to worry about from me, she thought. I don’t have any more answers than I had three days ago, only more questions.
So why did Mary come into my room? What if she planned to smother me with a pillow? There are three on the bed. If I were a heavier sleeper, I probably wouldn’t even have felt her lifting one of these extra pillows, wouldn’t have felt it pressed over my face until it was too late.
Could Mary have killed Tom? She knows about plant poisons. After all, she had spent a lot of time with Hazel Rabichek. Tom could have driven over here last Thursday after leaving my house. It would be natural, wouldn’t it? He’d been talking to Mary and she had left so suddenly, without any explanation. He might have wanted to talk to her about finding that friend of his, that Bobby what’s-his-name from high school. Had he added her to his appointment book? Was that why she was so reluctant to ask Nancy about it? Does she think she can get away with killing me, too?
Edna mulled over this problem, trying to figure out how Mary might pull off a murder in her own home. Perhaps she would rig things to look like someone broke in and came up the back stairs. The house is big, and Mary could reasonably deny ever hearing a thing, if Edna were overpowered and smothered in her bed. Besides, Mary probably knew what the police would look for. She would probably know how to cover her tracks.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Edna scolded herself softly. Am I? her other self asked. She didn’t know the answer. Her head throbbed. Of one thing she became certain. She would leave this house at first light. She would go home and later think of a plausible excuse as to why she couldn’t stay at Mary’s any longer.
Once her mind was made up, Edna vowed to stay awake until dawn, but the next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes, and the little bedside clock read six-fifty-six. Feeling muzzy, she slipped out from beneath the warm covers and only then noticed her bedroom door was ajar. She crossed the room, her uneasiness of the night returning, and closed the door tightly. Then, as quietly as she could, Edna dressed and packed her suitcase while Benjamin watched, yawning, from his perch on the wooden radiator cover.
These chores completed, Edna slipped an arm through the handles of her tote bag, picked up the overnight case, and eased open her bedroom door. Poking her head into the hall, she paused, listening for sounds. Nothing. Certainly, Mary must be asleep. Edna went back to gather up Benjamin, who seemed quite content to stay on his warm shelf beneath the window. Then she tiptoed down the back stairs.
“Good morning,” Mary said as Edna reached the bottom step. “Coffee should be ready in about five minutes.”
Edna jumped, almost dropping the suitcase, while Benjamin leaped to the floor. She could only stare at Mary, who with her back turned was taking plates and mugs down from a cupboard and arranging them on a large metal tray. Hank, lying in the middle of the floor, turned to gaze over his shoulder.
Busy with the plates, Mary hadn’t yet turned toward Edna. “Sorry I woke you earlier, but I thought I heard Benjy crying.”
“Benjamin.” Edna corrected automatically, setting her suitcase near the back door and balancing the tote bag on top.
“Yes, well, he probably wanted to explore the house or something. He came into my room about an hour later. Hope you don’t mind, but I opened your door so he could come and go without my having to get up again.”
When Mary turned, her look moved at once to Edna’s luggage. “Where’re you going? I thought you’d be staying until Albert got home.” Her face flushed, and a deep crease formed between her eyebrows as she stared at Edna.
Not expecting to run into her hostess, Edna hadn’t yet thought of an excuse as to why she was leaving. She stammered, “I’ve put you to enough trouble, and I have so much to do. I think it would be best if I stayed in my own house.” She hurried on before Mary could protest. “I’ll call someone today and have them change the locks, and I’ll make sure the doors and windows are secure before I go
to bed tonight. I’ll be fine.”
Mary looked doubtful. “Charlie’s going to be mad at me. I promised him I’d watch you. I was even going to call the hospital this morning and cancel my volunteer shift.”
“Oh, don’t do that.” Edna still wasn’t convinced that Mary’s nocturnal wanderings were innocent, and she didn’t want to have to watch her back—or her food—the entire day. Knowing she would have to come up with an acceptable compromise, she said, “Look. I’m sure they depend on you at the hospital, and I have lots of errands to do today, so I won’t be home much anyway. Let’s see how the day goes, and we can talk later about where I’m to stay.”
“Well …” Mary hesitated.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll call Charlie and let him know. I’ll even wave to every policeman I see.”
Mary laughed at that and nodded her head. “Okay, but how about breakfast first. You have to eat before you go. I’m making pancakes. Hank likes my pancakes, don’t you, Boy?” She smiled at the lab, who thumped his tail on the floor at the sound of his name.
Edna supposed if Mary also ate, and if she fed the same food to Hank, it could hardly be poisoned. Besides, the coffee smelled good, and her stomach felt empty. She told herself to relax and went to take the tray from Mary, offering to set the table.
The two women ate a leisurely meal. Edna had to admit that Mary’s pancakes were delicious with a generous dollop of warm maple syrup. She sat back, enjoying the last of her coffee, her gaze drifting from the yearbooks at the end of the table to the view beyond the windows. She noticed absently that the rain had stopped. She had probably been wrong about Mary being a threat, but what had she meant last night about Tom promising something? Edna brought her thoughts back to the present and was just turning to ask Mary to explain when a clock began to chime from somewhere deeper in the house.
“Oh, no.” Mary looked at her watch. “It’s eight o’clock already. I’m late.”
Murder by Yew [Edna Davies 01] Page 16