“Go fix your face again and come down when you’re ready.”
Within half an hour the room was full of people who’d brought potato salad, sliced ham, fried chicken, fruit salads, casseroles, and homemade cakes and pies. None of them cared if Gwen Ellen had a full-time cook. Food in the South is the currency of caring.
I helped Tansy find places for it in the refrigerator and on the countertops while Gwen Ellen talked in a flat, dead voice and told as much as she knew of what was going on.
When the back door opened, I thought it was yet another woman arriving. Instead, Joe Riddley stood there holding a green pet carrier. “What do you feed a ferret?”
Tansy yelped. “Get that filthy thing outta my clean kitchen. I told Skell he couldn’t bring it here, and I meant it. Get it out. Now.” She flapped both hands in Joe Riddley’s direction.
He was so startled, he dropped the carrier. The door flew open and something long and dark flowed over my feet and into the pantry.
“Dang it, that door wasn’t latched right.” Joe Riddley had the nerve to glare at me.
I glared back, wishing I could climb up on top of a counter without looking as silly as Tansy did standing on that kitchen chair. “What was that thing, again?”
“A ferret,” Joe Riddley snapped. “And look what you’ve made me do.” He went to the pantry door and peered in. “Does it bite?”
“How should I know?”
“I wasn’t asking you, Little Bit. I was asking Tansy. Tansy, does that thing bite?”
“How should I know?” she echoed. “I told Skell when he bought it I wasn’t having it in this house, and I meant it. Get it out of here.”
“I take it Skell wasn’t home.” I edged toward one of the chairs and sat down, propping my feet on the seat of another.
“Nope. The place is a mess, and the creature was out of food and water. I couldn’t just leave it there.” He squatted down and peered toward a far corner of the pantry. “Come here, little feller. Come here.” He dragged the carrier to the pantry door and held it open. I watched nervously. Nothing happened.
“Where’s the broom?” he demanded over his shoulder.
“In the corner of the pantry.” Tansy didn’t offer to leave her chair to fetch it. She was even holding up her skirt with one hand, as if the ferret might leap up and cling to it.
Now that she’d mentioned it, my denim skirt was drooping down between the chairs. I tucked it around my knees. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the creature, but the little bit I’d seen resembled a cross between a weasel and a rat. Neither are on my favorite-creatures list.
Joe Riddley got the broom and headed into the pantry. “Come here, Little Bit, and guard the door. If he tries to get through, grab him.”
“Grab him yourself,” I replied. But I warily stood up and went to peer around him. Under a bottom shelf I saw two bright eyes. “I’ll prop chairs across the door,” I offered. As I dragged two kitchen chairs and made as good a barrier as I knew how, I couldn’t help thinking that Skye MacDonald would never have asked Gwen Ellen to grab a ferret while he chased it with a broom. “Okay, see if you can get him into the carrier.”
Joe Riddley swiped with the broom. Like liquid fur, the ferret darted from under the shelf, oozed through my barrier, slithered across my foot again, and headed up the back stairs.
I collapsed in my chair and waited to die.
Did my loving husband give me comfort while I recovered from that near heart attack? No. The guardian of my well-being roared, “You let him get away, dagnabit. You let him get right past you.”
“Well whoop-de-do. Did you expect me to grab him with my bare hands?”
He heaved a sigh like he’d never known anybody quite so useless. “We’ll have to find him before he tears the place up.”
“Them ferrets are real destructive,” Tansy contributed from her perch.
“You might climb down from that chair and help us look,” I suggested.
She shook her head. “I ain’t chasing no ferret. Don’t you be sending him back down here, either. I don’t want him in my kitchen.”
Joe Riddley clomped up the stairs. I followed him, one uneasy step at a time, hoping any second he’d say, “Here he is,” and slam the door of the carrier. Instead he said, “You search the master bedroom and I’ll check Skell’s. At least all the other doors are shut. Maybe he recognized Skell’s smell and headed in there.”
“Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray,” I muttered as I headed to Gwen Ellen’s bedroom. What was I supposed to do if I met the ferret—introduce myself and chat with him until Joe Riddley arrived with the carrier?
I tiptoed to the king-size bed, hiked up my skirt, and took a quick peek underneath. I kept my knees bent, ready to run if I saw eyes. All I saw were Gwen Ellen’s slippers.
The closet door was closed, so at least he wasn’t in there. I drifted over to the dresser and peered this way and that, but I didn’t see anything except a letter Gwen Ellen had left lying open. It was the one from that New Mexico dude ranch. I had had time to read “Dear Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald, We hope you enjoyed your stay with us—” and to feel one twinge of envy when I heard a rustling in the bathroom.
I slammed that bathroom door faster than a cockroach can fly. “I’ve got him,” I yelled.
A woman shrieked.
Then somebody wrenched open the door and demanded, “What are you doing?” A young woman I barely knew glared at me with one eye open and one eye closed. I could tell we wouldn’t be getting any of her lawn-and-garden business in the near future.
I backed away. “Did you see a ferret?”
“A what?” Both eyes flew open.
“Ferret. Little black animal—” As she began to cringe, I shook my head. “You’d have known if he was in there. I heard a sound and thought that was him.”
“That was me, trying to put my contact back in. I had some mascara in my eye. Now I’ve dropped the dratted lens, and heaven knows if I can find it on this blue carpet.”
Which is why I spent the next ten minutes crawling around on Gwen Ellen’s bathroom rug. It’s hard enough to search for a blue contact on a blue rug. It’s a lot harder when you have to keep one eye cocked to be sure a ferret doesn’t sneak in while you’re looking for the lens.
When the woman yelled, I jumped at least two feet.
“Here it is. It got caught on my sweater.” She picked it off with one long red fingernail and held it up.
I managed not to kill her by remembering something our newspaper editor likes to say: Half the world is below average, and we can’t all be in the upper half.
Mama had never taught me a graceful way to get up from my knees off a bathroom floor and excuse myself to somebody I had scared half to death. I did the best I could, and tiptoed down the hall. “Did you find him?” I called in a soft voice.
Joe Riddley was nowhere to be found. I didn’t go into Skell’s room, but I called at the door twice. And I knocked on all the other doors before I ran my husband to earth back in the kitchen, drinking coffee with Tansy.
“Where is that blessed ferret?” I demanded.
He waved one hand like the question was unimportant. “In Skell’s closet. I shut the door on him, and thought I’d call Cindy.”
“Does Cindy know anything about ferrets?”
“You got a better idea?”
I considered. Cindy had known about beagles and parrots, and she’d grown up hunting foxes. Maybe ferrets were like foxes. “No. Call Cindy. But for heaven’s sake, go upstairs first and close the bedroom door, too, in case he gets out of the closet. And put a sign on the door so nobody opens it by mistake.”
“You close the door and put up the sign. I’ll call Cindy.”
Tansy condescended to provide paper, tape, and a pen.
I stomped up the stairs with steam coming out my ears and hardened my heart to frantic scratching as I closed the bedroom door and taped up a note:Loose Ferret. Do Not Open This Door.
Anybo
dy stupid enough to disobey deserved what they got.
9
As I started back down the stairs I heard a light voice that sounded familiar say, “I came to see how I could help,” and heard Laura reply, “That’s real nice of you.” When I got farther down the stairs, I saw Tansy pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, across from Joe Riddley, for the young receptionist from MacDonald’s.
Laura sprawled in a third chair, legs stretched before her and one strand of hair at her lips. I’d seen her slump just like that after a grueling soccer game. I’d also heard her mother beg, “Honey, please sit up like a lady and stop sucking your hair.” Today, even Gwen Ellen wouldn’t have the heart to correct her. Laura’s face was white and drained, and she kept letting out deep, deep breaths. I knew how she felt. Sorrow leaves little lung room for air.
Tansy offered Nicole—that was her name—a cup of coffee, but Nicole refused. Then, as I watched, Tansy poured a cup of coffee, added lots of cream and sugar, and sidled into the pantry to pour in something from a bottle she took from behind the potatoes. I was startled, and a little shocked. Gwen Ellen was a rabid teetotaler. Years ago she’d gone to visit her parents for a week and came back to find Skye had left wine in the refrigerator. She had told me with perfect seriousness, “Mac, he’d drunk nearly half the bottle in a week. If I’d known he was going to stay drunk the whole time, I’d never have gone.”
Tansy handed Laura the doctored cup, and she took it with no inkling of what was in it. Her grateful smile was for the coffee. “I tell you true,” she told Joe Riddley, “having to listen to folks say how sorry they are is one of the most wearing things I’ve ever had to do.” She took a gulp, gasped, choked, and had to be slapped on the back. Then she gave Tansy a wry grin. Tansy put on an innocent expression and turned to look out at the rain still streaming down.
I came the rest of the way down the stairs and, as Laura took another sip, she glanced up and saw me. “Hey, Mac, you remember Nicole from our front desk?”
Yesterday that young woman had pranced into Skye’s office with badly typed letters. Today tousled curls fell in front of her face and her eyes and nose were red and swollen.
“Sure. Hey, Nicole.” Her skirt was so abbreviated, I sure hoped she hadn’t paid for a whole one. “Did you get everything shut down?” I asked Laura as I took the vacant chair and waved away Tansy’s offer of coffee.
“She was great.” Nicole held a wadded tissue to her pink nose and gave a big sniff. “People were real upset, but she calmed them down.” She threw Laura the kind of look sixth-grade soccer players used to give her after a high-school game.
Laura ignored the look and gulped down the rest of her coffee. “That was good, Tansy.” She held out her mug. “Could I have a little more, please?”
Tansy refilled the cup, but only with coffee, milk, and sugar. Laura grimaced and gave her a reproachful frown. Tansy turned again to the window.
“What did Cindy say?” I asked Joe Riddley, who was busy drawing circles on the blue tablecloth with one forefinger.
“She’s coming over. Said maybe she can entice it with food and water.” Seeing Laura’s puzzled look, he explained about the ferret.
She shuddered. “I’m glad it’s not in my part of the house. Why Skell ever wanted one, I’ll never know.” She looked from me to Tansy for advice. “Do you think it would be awful of me to go up to my place for a while?”
“I think you deserve it,” I told her.
“That’s just what you been needin’,” Tansy agreed.
Nicole perked up. “Shall I come with you? I could give you a back rub.”
Laura’s voice was gruff. “Maybe another time. Right now, I’d just like to be alone.” As she stood, though, she rested one hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “Thanks. I really appreciate your coming over.” Laura could always be counted on to think of other people.
Nicole raised a soggy face. “Don’t forget what I told you, now. I want to do something with your hair before the—the funeral. You’ll be gorgeous if you give me an hour.”
Laura’s wide mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Some chance. But I won’t forget.” At the kitchen door, she hesitated, listening.
“Go on.” Tansy gave her a little shove. “I’m not leavin’ your mama. I’ll stay in the spare room a few days, like I did when she had pneumonia a couple of years back.”
“You’re great.” Laura bent to give Tansy a swift hug, then hurried out. She clomped up her own stairs like demons were after her.
“You want some coffee, Miss MacLaren?” Tansy held up the pot. I shook my head.
Nicole sat looking between the back door and the one to the rest of the house. “Do you think there’s anything I could do for Mrs. MacDonald? Mr. MacDonald”—her voice wavered over his name—“I can’t believe he’s gone. He was kind, funny, thoughtful—and I just knew him four months.” She ended on a wail. Then she laid her head on the table and just boohooed. “Four months,” she repeated through sniffs and sobs. “Four lousy months.”
My own heart was like lead, but I’d known Skye thirty years. Nicole’s four months at his front desk seemed like a watermelon seed in that patch. So what had turned on her water? Had she carried a torch, hoping Skye might be ready to trade in Gwen Ellen for a younger model?
Across the table, Joe Riddley kept sending me short, jabbing looks to say, “Do something. Make her stop.”
Before I could think what to do, Tansy trudged over and patted Nicole’s shoulder. “There, there, honey. Mr. Skye wouldn’t want any of us carrying on like that. He’s in the bosom of the Lord, now. We who are left got to bear our burdens bravely.”
Nicole sniffed and wiped her eyes with a napkin. Tansy wiped her own with a corner of her apron and headed back to lean against the counter. I decided I could be as charitable as Tansy. After all, Nicole was very young, and probably hadn’t experienced violent death this close before. I touched her arm. “I think the best thing you can do right now is go home. We’re going to leave in a few minutes, too. Gwen Ellen—Mrs. MacDonald—will be fine. And somebody will call everybody from work, to let you all know about the funeral and when the business will reopen.”
That made her toss back her hair and stick up her chin. Tears had turned her eyelashes into spiky little stars. “It’s my job to make those calls. I’m Mr. MacDonald’s secretary. ”
I doubted that Skye ever gave her that title. “The girl out front” was what he most likely called her. And that spurt of pride made me want to jab her balloon with reality. “I think that will be handled by the funeral home or the church.”
“It’s my job.” She jumped to her feet and ran to the door. “Laura? Laura!” When Laura opened her door, she cried, “Don’t you let anybody else call everybody from work to tell them when the funeral is. That’s my job. Okay?”
Laura paused, as if trying to make sense of what she was hearing. “Okay,” she agreed in a heavy voice. “I’ll call you when we know. Leave your number with Tansy.”
Nicole came back in with purpose in her step and resolution in her eye. “May I have a piece of paper, please?” She scrawled her name and number on the telephone pad Tansy handed her and laid it in the middle of the table. “Don’t lose this. Laura is going to call me when they know about the funeral, so I can call everybody from work.”
“Fine,” I said crossly, “but go on home for now. We all need to clear out and leave the family alone.”
Her eyes slewed my way, defiant chips of blue ice. “I—”
“Easy, now,” Joe Riddley told her.
She met his gaze, and hers faltered. “Okay, but if there’s anything I can do, tell them to call me.” She turned to Tansy, anxious. “You will, won’t you?”
“Sure I will,” Tansy assured her. She’d been comfortable for years making promises she had no intention of keeping.
Nicole buttoned up her raincoat and peered anxiously out the kitchen door. When Joe Riddley offered to walk her to her car under our umbrella, I didn’t m
ind. When you’ve been married to a man for over forty years, you know how far he’ll go. Tenderly putting a pretty young woman in her car was as far as Joe Riddley would go.
However, Nicole had worn me out. “I need that coffee after all, Tansy.”
“You want just milk and sugar, or a tad of something extry?”
I was tempted. I wasn’t on call to go down to the jail, and Joe Riddley was driving. But the way I felt, even a nip might put me over the edge. “Just black and hot,” I told her, “to warm some of the deep cold places I’m carrying around.”
Tansy poured two cups. She handed me one and stood sipping the other. “You and me both, Miss MacLaren. You and me both. My spirit’s froze plumb to the bone.”
About the time I finished my coffee, Cindy showed up. She got Skell’s ferret back in its carrier in a matter of minutes and was well-mannered enough not to ask what it was doing in an upstairs closet in the first place. Neither Joe Riddley nor I felt inclined to explain.
“Have you ever thought about becoming a vet?” I asked as she carried the carrier down.
She laughed like I’d made a joke. “Now when would I have time for that? But I’ll keep this little fellow in our garage until you find Skell. Oh, and since Ridd and Martha are out of town, you all come over to our house for dinner when you’re done at church. I’ve already cooked a turkey breast.”
I was astonished and touched. Invitations to Walker and Cindy’s usually came in cute little handwritten notes a couple of weeks in advance. “We’d love to, honey. What can I bring?”
“A good appetite.” With a wave, she left with the ferret.
Before I left, I made Gwen Ellen promise me she’d eat a little something by and by.
“Baby Sister will be all right,” Joe Riddley assured me as we drove away.
“Of course she will.”
I sure was glad neither of us was connected to a lie detector.
10
It rained all the way home. As soon as we parked, Lulu started reminding us that she was no longer a yard dog and had spent enough time in their company. Joe squawked from the barn, “Hello, Hiram. Hello Hiram,” calling his former master.
Who Left That Body in the Rain? Page 8