Mother added a touch of color with a handmade yellow rag rug, and yellow towels. The toilet was in a corner, the white enamel tank topped with one of Mother’s more recent projects, a southern belle doll wearing a crocheted yellow hoop skirt, discretely covering a roll of toilet paper. Over the white pedestal sink, was a mirrored medicine cabinet and above that, a pull-chain light, which had never worked since day one. Against a longer wall, a huge claw-foot bathtub, in need of resurfacing, sat beneath a makeshift round shower curtain, hanging from the ceiling on two chains. Slung over the white cloth shower curtain and bunched up to one side was a pair of Sera’s stockings. Two of Oliver’s toys, a rubber duck and a sailboat, waited on the rim of the tub for the return of the small boy. Percy loved this bathroom and often studied the craftsmanship of it as she laid back in her bubble bath. She would make an effort to concentrate on that instead of her toes.
“I think a long soak in a hot tub will do me good. I’ll be fine in an hour or so. Thanks so much. I’ll take it from here.” She sucked in a breath between clench teeth as she moved away, her painful feet getting to her.
“No siree Bob. You sit on the john, Percy, I’ll run the water.” Not letting go, Sera walked her sister over to the commode, and plopped her down on the closed lid. She crossed to the tub, crammed the plug in the drain, and turned on the hot water tap, chatting all the time.
“I’ve even got some new bath salts – lavender -- I’ll share with you. And you don’t have to worry about getting out until you want to, either. I don’t need to take a bath every single morning. I remember reading somewhere in the Ozarks they don’t bathe but once a week. Of course, Oliver will want to come in before he goes to school, but that’s not for an hour or so. And I promise not to say anything about this to the folks.” She poured the powder into the running water, floral scent filling the air. “Smell that? Yummy!”
“Thank you for taking care of me, Sera.” Percy’s voice was soft and vulnerable.
Sera brushed her off. “Oh, you don’t have to thank --”
“Yes, I do,” Percy said, cutting her off. “It’s appreciated.”
Pleased but embarrassed, Sera looked away. “It’s the least I can do, Percy.” She went back to her sister and handed her a hair clip she took from the pocket of her robe.
“Put your hair up with this clip and stand. Let’s get you out of these wet things.” A bedraggled Percy obeyed on both counts while Sera went on, “After all, I’m the one who encouraged Lily to go outside, and I’m sure whatever happened to you out there was my fault in some way. It always is.”
Percy sloughed off the wet robe and pajamas as Sera picked up dropping clothes. A nude Percy turned and smiled at her sister.
“Nope, not this time. I think I brought this one on myself.” She walked on her heels over to the tub, stroked the warm water with one hand and climbed in, slithering into the water until it came up to her neck. “Oh, this feels grand, simply grand.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against the curved, porcelain rim, luxuriating in it.
“Percy, I’m sorry about what happened earlier. It won’t happen again, I swear.”
“Forget it,” Percy murmured, eyes still closed. “Besides, I’ve been a little rough on Lily. You were just trying to be nice to her, sort of level out the playing field.”
They shared a moment’s silence, the warm scent of the lavender relaxing both women.
“Percy, do you mind if I say something?”
“Say anything you like,” Percy replied in a drowsy tone.
“I think you’re rougher on yourself than anybody else.” She rushed on, “I mean, you’re always so down on yourself for your looks and your weight and your height when really, if you’d look at yourself the way a lot of other people do, like right now…”
Percy opened her eyes and turned to her younger sister folding and unfolding her wet clothes by the hamper. “Right now? I’m naked, for crying out loud.”
“Exactly! You look like that picture. You know, that lady with the long hair standing on the half-shell coming out of the water. She’s holding her long, red hair in front of her, you know, over her private parts.”
Percy stared at her.
Sera went on, “The painting, you know, the old one, over in Europe somewhere.” She thought for a moment. “Gee, I hope it doesn’t get blown up in the war or something. I sure like that picture.” She looked back at Percy. “You got to know who I mean. She looks regal and all that kind of stuff, like you do sometimes. It’s almost like that famous guy painted you. I saw it once it in Life Magazine. The painting.” Frustrated, Sera exploded. “What are you, a simpleton? The painting!”
Percy struggled to think, as she sat upright. “You mean ‘Venus Rising From the Sea’ by Botticelli?”
“Bingo! That’s it. Only I call it Venus on the half shell. I looked at it for a long time, too. I said to myself --”
“I said, self,” Percy interjected, imitating Sera’s voice. “My sister, Percy, looks just like that broad in the painting, only without the shell.”
”Yeah, that’s what I said. You can make fun all you want, Persephone Cole, but you looked enough like her to make me remember it. Not that I particularly watch you taking a bath or nothing - I got better things to do -- but I have seen you in the altogether from time to time. Like tonight,” Sera added.
“You can’t share a bathroom with this family without seeing a lot of each other, that’s true,” Percy said, stifling a laugh. “Well, thank you, Serendipity. That’s really sweet of you. You’re good for my ego. Maybe I should get a copy of that picture, hang it up here in the bathroom. Better idea, maybe I should hang around my family a lot more.” She laughed and leaned back again in the warm water, wiggling her toes tentatively. “My toes seem to be working again.”
“Speaking of hanging around with the family, Percy, can I ask you something? Advice?”
“Of course. Hand me the soap, would you?”
Sera grabbed a bar of soap from the sink and tossed it to Percy before speaking. “Sammy’s asked me to marry him.”
Percy stopped lathering her hands and stared at her younger sister. “Sammy, the baker?” Sera nodded. “Sammy asked you to marry him?” Sera nodded again, but this time looked down. “Do you love him?” Sera shrugged her shoulders and didn’t look up. “Sera, look at me. Look at me.” Sera obeyed, her eyes brimming with tears. Percy studied her sister’s lovely face, youthful and hopeful. “I can see you don’t,” Percy whispered.
“I’m scared, Percy. I don’t want to wait forever. Maybe he’s the only guy who’ll ask me.”
“First of all, Sera, he’s not going to be the only guy to ask you. You’ll have dozens.” Percy said in a stronger voice, “And second, but more important, marriage is tough enough when both people love each other so much they’re going to pop with it. If you’re ambivalent, you don’t stand a chance.”
“What’s ‘ambivalent’?”
“Wishy-washy.”
“What about you and Leo? Didn’t you love him until you thought you would ‘pop’? Look what happened. You got screwed.”
“Hey,” Percy said, throwing the washcloth at her. “I said both people. How did I know Leo was a louse? My libido had taken over. And don’t ask me to explain that word to you, ‘cause I won’t. It was the right feelings I had. The right feelings. But for the wrong guy. Now give me back my washcloth.”
Sera tossed the cloth back. “Gee, this is fun. We haven’t talked like this since….I can’t remember. Months even.”
“We will more often, Sera. I promise. But no more talk about marrying Sammy or any other guy for at least a year or two. You’re barely twenty. You got time.”
“Well, I don’t want to wind up as old as you were. We thought you’d never get married! I mean you were an old maid – ancient -- for crying out loud.”
Percy took a deep breath. “Girlie chat is over. Go away,” she said, as she slipped under the water and out of sight.
* * * *
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br /> “Now that we’re alone, Lily, I want to ask you a couple of questions.”
Two hours later, Percy turned from the girl at the stove, took her plate to the table and began to fill it from the mound of French toast steaming on a large platter.
Lily let out a resigned sigh, took off her apron and sat down primly across the table from Percy. She stared at her expectantly. “Yes, Miss Cole?”
Before answering, Percy spread butter on the three pieces of egg-soaked, fried toast and poured on the maple syrup. She knew her mother had been saving the syrup for at least two years waiting for a ‘special occasion.’ Had she known the special occasion was French toast, she might have tried her hand at making up some herself.
“Lily, what time were you and Connie finished working at Santa Land the night he was killed?”
Lily looked slightly startled, as if this was the last question in the world she expected to hear. “Let me see. It seems so long ago.” She thought for a minute. “Eight-thirty. Yes, that’s it, eight-thirty. Santa Land closes at eight, and we left about thirty minutes later. Why?”
Percy chewed a large mouthful of French toast, butter and syrup and closed her eyes appreciatively. She didn’t answer Lily’s question but said,
“This is the best French toast I’ve ever had. What the hell did you put in it?”
Getting used to Percy’s ways, Lily smiled before answering. “A little vanilla, a half a teaspoon of cinnamon, and a sprinkle of nutmeg. Your mother had everything in the kitchen. The spices are a little old but still serviceable.”
“You’d never know anything in this kitchen was serviceable.” Percy waggled a forkful of the food in front of Lily. “You should open a restaurant, kiddo. I mean it. You are one grand cook.”
“Thank you,” Lily murmured.
“So what did you do between eight-thirty and two-thirty, before you both showed up at your father’s store?”
“What did we do?” Lily echoed, her face set in thought and puzzlement. “We went back to my apartment at Beekman Place. Yes, that’s what we did.”
“All that time?” Percy shoveled another forkful of dripping toast in her mouth but studied Lily’s face.
“Sure, all that time. We sat around, had some laughs, a few drinks. Oh, yes. I made us some tuna fish sandwiches. Connie liked my tuna fish sandwich. I use fresh dill. Grandfather doesn’t though. I made his plain with dill pickles.”
“Who else was there, besides your grandfather?” Percy finished the last of the French toast, wiped her mouth on a napkin and stood, looking down at Lily.
“Well, Hanson. Hanson’s always there. He’s the butler. He doesn’t have anybody else except us. He’s been with the family for over forty years. Everybody else comes in daily, even the cook.”
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t know. She’s new. I just call her cook. She’s gone by six or seven. If anyone’s ever home at dinner time, Hanson reheats, serves and clears.”
“Did you make him a tuna fish sandwich?”
Lily bristled. “You don’t do that with Hanson. He’s far too formal. I left enough in the refrigerator, in case he wanted some, but he never does.”
“You don’t like Hanson?”
“Hanson doesn’t like me. Or my father.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “He puts up with us. He’s devoted to Grandfather.” After a beat of silence, she asked, “What is it?”
“What?”
“You had an expression on your face I’d never seen before.”
“I was thinking for the first time, Lily, you are a poor little rich girl.”
Percy started for the door, but turned back. “Lily, you’d better put your wanderlust aside and stay locked in the apartment no matter what. I’m not trying to scare you – well, yes, I am. Danny DeLuca broke out of jail a couple of days ago.” Something told her not to mention the car incident of a few hours ago.
Was that DeLuca? Could have been. I was too busy spinning on the hood of a car to tell.
Lily leapt up and backed away, only stopping when she bumped into the stove. “Do you think he knows…” The sound of her voice petered out. She looked lost in thought. Her eyes had a far-away, frightened look in them.
Percy snapped her fingers several times to get the girl’s attention. “Where you are? Come back, come back, wherever you are,” she sang out.
Lily’s head snapped around; her eyes became focused on Percy. “Sorry.”
“In answer to your question, I don’t know yet. I plan to find out more today. You can’t stay here if DeLuca does know and he’s out there. I’ve got Oliver to think of. I don’t want him caught in the middle of --”
“Of course, not,” Lily jumped in. “I should leave. I should leave right away. I’ve stayed too long. I don’t want anybody hurt because of me.”
“Hold on. Don’t panic and don’t do anything rash. Let me see what’s what. I’ll know more later. Promise me you’ll stay put until I find some things out.”
Lily nodded, unhappy. She looked up at Percy.
“I promise.”
Chapter Eighteen
After putting on a pair of her brother’s old hiking boots from the back of the hall closet, Percy was able to walk, swollen toes and all, with not much of a limp. At nine a.m. she walked instead of hobbled into the jewelry shop and found it going full force. She looked around at what she considered to be the crime scene.
Busy behind the counter making sales and handling sparkling baubles, were Mr. Waller, Miss Lorner, and an elderly gentleman she’d never seen before. All three were smiling the salesman smile as they waited on several harried people, three men and one woman. They answered questions in a subservient but superior way, something that can only be done when the other guy may be the one with the dough but you’re the one with the smarts.
I guess rich folks throwing their big bucks away at Christmas time need help just like the rest of us poor slobs.
Percy waited to the side near a lone, uncomfortable looking, white satin chair. She took the opportunity to study each of the three sales people individually. Possibly in honor of the holiday season, Janice Lorner wore a bright red knit dress stretched tightly over her curvaceous figure. Again, no jewelry or makeup adorned her. Black-rimmed reading glasses emphasized her librarian looks from the neck up, especially with the tight bun at the back of her head.
Percy’s eyes traveled to the white-haired man fawning over the lone female customer. Bearing a family resemblance to the younger man, she surmised the elderly one to be Lily’s grandfather. His hands shook a little, but other than that, he stood erect and retained the polished aura of a successful businessman. His smile, while seemingly genuine on one level, was a little too bright and constant for Percy’s taste. He’d given her the once over when she entered the shop and she’d noticed his sharp, observing eyes. This was a man who didn’t miss much.
While considerable taller than his father, William Waller remained stooped over, carrying a ‘dowager’s hump’ on his back, something Percy accredited to much older people, as a rule. Percy realized he was only about ten years older than herself, maybe his mid-forties, yet his demeanor was that of a much older man. His receding hairline didn’t help, even though what sparse hair toughing it out was nearly jet black in color.
Speaking of balding heads, she thought, I’d better go see what Harry knows about the Christmas angel’s death. Too bad I didn’t bring my baseball bat. I could have used it to field off his passes.
She stepped to the other side of the chair and let three men pass her by, each one holding a small lavender and white paper bag containing a wrapped present. There were going to be three happy women come Christmas morning, judging by these men’s expressions. Each one looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.
I bet you get a lot of yeses with diamonds.
The middle-aged woman gathered a long, sleek black fur coat around her and exited empty handed, followed by a young man wearing a grin on his face. The grin was
probably due to the diamond encrusted watch Percy saw him clamp on his wrist moments after the older woman forked over a check.
Her son? Her lover? Who cares?
The store momentarily devoid of customers, Percy stepped forward to the main counter. “Good morning.” She kept her voice respectful but commanding.
Both William Waller and Miss Lorner smiled half-heartedly and moved toward her. The elder Waller stepped back. He glared at Percy like an eagle eyeing a small mouse from aloft, promising to pounce when least expected. She kept her gaze on him, as well, mindful she was looking down on a much smaller human being. He looked tired, but here was a man aware of positions of power, she surmised. She would try to use her height to advantage.
“You must be the senior Mr. Waller,” she said extending her hand. After a slight hesitation, he took her hand in his and shook it. But his glare, almost rude, did not change.
“I’m Persephone Cole. I’ve been hired --”
“I know who you are,” he interrupted with a voice larger than she expected, while dropping her hand. “My son foolishly asked you to help Lily, who is beyond help, in my opinion.”
He turned to the other woman. “Miss Lorner, why don’t you take your break now? We are experiencing a lull in clientele.”
“Of course, Mr. Waller,” she said demurely, with a nod of the head and nearly curtsying. She grabbed a small purse and folded coat from behind the counter and, without putting the coat on, hurried out the door before anyone could say anything.
Percy was stunned at the other woman’s obsequious behavior. The younger Waller watched the woman leave. As the door to the shop closed behind his clerk and paramour, he turned to his father.
“Now, Dad, Lily is not --” William Waller began, but was cut off by the older man.
Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Page 11