I fired up my computer and checked the website of my preferred local news station. As I’d feared, they had found the story. ANOTHER DEATH AT SANTA FE OPERA blared at the top of the screen. There was even a sidebar story: “Curse of Tosca?” Mr. Ingraham would have kittens.
I skimmed the lead story. They mentioned no names, but they did say the victim was one of the apprentices.
I’d have to talk to my staff.
I texted Tony:
OK TO TELL MY STAFF ABOUT VI? STORY IS ON THE NEWS.
Even if I didn’t tell them they’d probably guess. I just wanted to give them some closure.
I poked through my message slips until my phone buzzed with Tony’s answering text:
YES.
I went down to the kitchen and wrote on the whiteboard beside the time clock: STAFF MEETING MAIN PARLOR 10:30 a.m. Julio and Ramon were the only ones in at the moment, so I told them about the meeting, then went up front to the gift shop to collect the previous day’s receipts, which I’d forgotten to take upstairs overnight. Fortunately, Nat had locked the cash drawer, and when I opened it I saw that she had already set it up for the new day, with the checks, charge slips, and extra cash in the bank bag.
Heaping silent blessings on my aunt’s head, I took the bag upstairs and wrote up the deposit. It was, I knew, a way of avoiding my messages, which I didn’t feel like answering. I’d have been happy to spend the day in hermit mode, but I’d been mostly useless the day before and I needed to reassure my staff that I was still functional. Sort of.
When the deposit was done I locked it in Kris’s desk, then I made a pot of tea (yes, more procrastination), and finally sat down at my desk. I sorted the messages into “answer now,” “later,” and “delegate” piles, then glanced at the clock—8:52—before starting in on “answer now.”
Top priority was Mr. Ingraham. I braced myself for a conversation about Vi, but either he hadn’t heard or he was being particularly considerate. He said everything that was kind and polite, wished me well with my busy week and hoped that he’d be able to welcome me to his home on another occasion. Truly the gentleman.
I got through two more messages before Kris came in. By the expression on her face, it was clear that she’d heard the news, and reached her own conclusions.
“I hope Usher doesn’t cancel,” she said.
“We can’t be surprised if she does.”
“I’d better put everything on hold.” Kris helped herself to tea, then went into her office.
I returned to my messages, calling people I didn’t really want to talk to and listening politely to their ideas and concerns. Only one of them mentioned the opera story, and let it drop when I responded noncommittally.
By the time I got through all the “answer nows,” it was quarter to ten. I replenished my tea and made a few notes to help me through the staff meeting. It wouldn’t be fun, but at least I wouldn’t stand there stupidly. At quarter after, I went across to my suite for two clean handkerchiefs, then headed downstairs.
Everyone was in the tearoom except for Dee and Mick, who wouldn’t arrive until the afternoon. I went into the main parlor and Nat joined me there. I noticed the shawl on the piano was askew and stepped up to adjust it.
“Have you been playing the piano?”
“N-no. Why?”
Nat shrugged. “I know you used to play it a lot when you were troubled.”
“Yeah, I did. Haven’t had much time lately.”
I’d have to take some time to play, after hours. It would probably feel good.
The staff began to gather. Iz looked at me intently as she entered, then sat in one of the farthest chairs. Rosa came in with Ramon, who whispered to her as they took seats. Kris came in last, phone in hand, while Julio hung in the doorway.
That was everyone. Time to bite the bullet. I stepped forward.
“Thank you, all. Some of you may have heard that another death occurred at the Santa Fe Opera yesterday. I’m very sorry to tell you that it appears to be Vi Benning.”
A small sound drew my attention to where Iz sat. I glanced that way, but she was staring at the floor, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“The police are investigating her death. Not much is known so far.” I cleared my throat, which was threatening to close. “Vi was more than a friend. She was part of the tearoom. I’m sure you all feel this loss, as do I. We’ll always remember her.”
The words were inadequate. There would never be adequate words. Blinking, I swallowed.
“If anyone needs some time off, or would like to arrange for some counseling, please come see me in my office. Thank you.”
They dispersed. Nat gave my shoulder a squeeze, then went off to tag new merchandise in the gift shop.
“Can I talk to you when you come up?” Kris said.
“Sure. Be there in a minute.”
She went out, leaving me alone with Iz, who still huddled in a wing chair. I went over to her and sat in the matching chair beside her.
“Iz?”
“It’s not fair,” she said in a low, angry voice.
“No, it isn’t.”
“She helped me….”
Iz had always been quiet, almost too shy. Vi had been her opposite, vivacious and outgoing, but she had taken pains to include in the tearoom’s early days Iz and had won her affection. She had made it easier for Iz to adjust to her job, and made her feel important and valued.
Rosa and Ramon hadn’t yet been hired then. Dee and Mick had. I’d have to deal with their reactions later.
I laid my hand over Iz’s. She gulped out an angry sob. I considered giving her a hug, but Iz was quite a private person and I didn’t want to overstep her comfort zone. Instead, I gave her one of my handkerchiefs.
“Do you want to go home? We can probably manage…”
“No. I’ll do my job.” She wiped defiantly at her nose.
“All right. If you change your mind, just let me know.”
I stood and turned to go. Iz caught my hand, stopping me.
“Thank you, Ellen,” she said.
“Thank you for being willing to stay.” I squeezed her hand, and she let me go. I left her to collect herself in private.
Rosa was in the pantry setting up trays for the first arrivals. The smell of scones baking pervaded the atmosphere. I offered to help but she shook her head.
“It’s fine. Thanks, but I’ll be OK.”
“Look after Iz, all right? She and Vi were close.”
“I will,” Rosa said.
I went into the kitchen. Julio was beating something in a large bowl, scowling. Ramon was at the prep table laying out sandwiches for trimming. I watched them both for a minute.
Julio and Vi had been especially close, and I was a little worried about him. He tended to bury stuff that bothered him instead of letting it out.
I resolved to talk to Kris about getting a counselor in for the next day. One day wouldn’t solve long-term grief, but it could get us started in the right direction.
I went upstairs, to be greeted by Kris. She invited me into her office with a gesture. I grabbed some tea and joined her.
“I’m getting calls from the media,” she said.
I boggled, then understood. “Because she worked here.”
Kris nodded. “Do you want to be interviewed?”
“No!” I put my cup and saucer on Kris’s desk and pressed my hands to my eyes.
If my friend Gina had been there, she’d have told me I was crazy. Passing up a chance to get the tearoom mentioned on state-wide TV?
Except we already had more business than we could handle. And I couldn’t—I just couldn’t face reporters right now.
I took a deep breath, picked up my cup, and swallowed some tea.
“Shall I prepare a statement to give them?” Kris said.
“Yes. That’s a great idea. We should say how saddened we are, how much we’ll miss Vi … are they saying she’s dead? Do they know it’s her?”
“I don�
��t think the police have confirmed it, but it sounds like someone has been counting heads and come up with Vi as the one who’s missing.”
“All right—let’s do two statements. One that’s non-committal and says we love Vi, and the other expressing our sadness, our shock…”
“I’ll bring you a draft of each.”
“Thank you. Anything else?”
She tilted her head. “How do you know it’s Vi?”
I closed my eyes briefly. “I glimpsed the body. The clothes were black and violet. And Tony Aragón confirmed it was Vi last night, but I don’t think we should spread the word on that.”
Kris nodded.
“When you have time, would you look into getting a grief counselor to come in and be available to the staff tomorrow? Say, from ten to two?”
“I’ll make some calls.”
“Thanks, Kris.” I stood, picked up my tea, and headed for my office.
“Hey, Ellen?”
I turned in the doorway. Kris’s hands were clasped in front of her on her desk.
“Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I know you really liked Vi.”
“Thank you. I’d be sad to lose anyone—you’re all very important to me, as friends, not just as staff.”
She smiled briefly, then turned to her computer. I returned to my desk, feeling low. I could hear the quiet murmur of Kris’s voice as she spoke on the phone. I brought up some classical music on web-based radio to give myself some separation.
I glanced through my stack of “later” messages, but wasn’t up to making calls just then. I started sorting out the “delegate” slips, making notes on each one for the lucky person who was going to get to deal with it. Mostly that was Kris, but some were going to Julio and a couple to Dee, who had been handling a lot of the purchasing for the gift shop.
Eleven o’clock came and went; the tearoom was open. I stayed upstairs, which was chickening out in a way, but I was feeling fragile. If there was an emergency downstairs I’d hear about it. Nat would come fetch me if anyone melted down.
I didn’t answer my own phone, though I kept an eye on it in case Tony called. It didn’t surprise me that he didn’t. He now had two murder cases to cope with, and was probably going nuts trying to figure out how they were connected.
I didn’t think for a minute that they weren’t, or that Vi’s death wasn’t murder. I hoped Tony was finding helpful evidence.
When Kris brought me her drafts of the two statements about Vi—both tastefully written—I offered to take the deposit to the bank. She looked truly grateful as she accepted.
“Is the phone going non-stop?” I asked.
“Pretty much, and I’m hoping we’ll hear from Sandra Usher.”
“Don’t expect it today. She’s probably just getting the news.”
Kris shrugged. “If she does call, I want to be available.”
I picked up the bank bag and my phone. “Any other errands while I’m out?”
“Not that I can think of.”
I fetched my purse from my suite and headed downstairs. Before going out I checked on the staff. They all seemed to be doing all right, though Julio looked tight-lipped and kind of tense. Iz was silent and rather stern, though she smiled when I greeted her.
Nat was ringing up a purchase for a customer when I looked into the gift shop. “Going out? Good. Don’t hurry back, we’re doing fine.”
That was the moment for me to say something teasing in return, but I couldn’t think of anything. I headed to my car, thankful that there were no emergencies.
The day was beautiful. Sunny but not too hot, with clouds creating some shade and promising a chance of more rain. My visit to the bank was uneventful. I was on my way back when I thought of Vi’s mother.
I was at a stop light. I gripped the wheel, wondering if I should run to the nearest florist and place an order. Then I knew that I had to do better than that. I wasn’t close to Rhonda, but I had been close to Vi. I owed Vi’s mother a personal visit.
Their house was on the southeast side of town. I turned my car around and headed that way, remembering the times I’d dropped Vi off there when she hadn’t driven to work. I stopped at a florist shop that I liked and picked out one of their ready-made arrangements, and drove on, trying to decide what I should say.
It wasn’t easy. I knew that Rhonda would be broken-hearted, and that whatever I said wouldn’t truly make it better. The only thing that would make her life better right now would be if it wasn’t true that Vi was dead.
But it was true. And Rhonda would be in terrible pain. And I couldn’t fix that. All I could do was let her know she wasn’t alone.
There were two cars in her driveway. I considered going away, but that would be cowardly. I was here, I had flowers. I didn’t have to stay long.
The house was an older one, stuccoed in the ubiquitous adobe brown that was seen all over Santa Fe. Walking up to the door with my offering held carefully before me, I couldn’t help thinking of Vi. Her laughter, and more recently her tears. The stress she’d been feeling, stress she didn’t want to burden her mother with.
A man answered the door.
“Is Rhonda awake?” I asked, offering him a polite way to refuse me. “I’m Ellen Rosings. Vi worked at my tearoom.”
“I’m Bill Southerton, Rhonda’s brother.”
“Ellen?” Rhonda’s voice, from inside the house.
Mr. Southerton—who had Rhonda’s coloring, I realized belatedly—opened the door to let me in. The house was quiet; no radio, no music.
Rhonda met me at the entrance to her living room. She looked haggard, which was no surprise. She stopped, her gaze fixed on the flowers in my hands.
“How did you know?”
“I heard from Detective Aragón. And I’m afraid the news stations have been speculating.”
She closed her eyes. I set the flowers down on an end table by a cream-colored sofa.
“I’m so sorry, Rhonda. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
She pulled herself together and looked at me with a feeble smile. “Thanks.”
I could tell she was on the edge of tears. I put a hand on her shoulder, just lightly, but it was enough. It was permission. She clung to me and cried, and I cried too.
We sat on the sofa and talked a little and held hands. I told her about Vi’s singing the shepherd-boy; Rhonda hadn’t been there that night.
Her brother came quietly in with a tray of coffee. I accepted some, and as soon as I had drunk it I rose to go, feeling I’d been there long enough. Rhonda thanked me for coming but didn’t ask me to stay.
I said goodbye, repeating my condolences and my offer of help. Rhonda’s brother saw me out, and at the door he quietly thanked me for stopping by.
“She’s still in shock,” he said.
I nodded. “I know what that’s like. You’re good to stay with her.”
I said goodbye and went back to my car, resolving to bring a casserole by in the next couple of days. And I’d write Rhonda a letter of condolence. That was pretty much all I could do.
I drove back to the tearoom, feeling pretty calm. Visiting Rhonda had done me good. I hoped it had done her a little good, too.
I parked and went in the back door, pausing to look into the kitchen. Julio was sitting at the break table, frowning at the floor. Ramon, rolling out dough for scones, looked up, glanced toward Julio, then looked back at me with eyes that silently asked for help.
I took a steadying breath, then walked over and sat across from Julio. He didn’t move at first. I just waited, and finally he slowly raised his head and met my gaze, dark eyes full of pain.
“Why?” he said in a thick voice.
“I don’t know.”
“Somebody killed her. Didn’t they?”
“I don’t know, Julio. Maybe.”
He closed his eyes and whispered something in Spanish. I didn’t quite catch it.
“Would you like me to take you home?” I said after a mom
ent.
He didn’t answer. Just opened his eyes and stared off at nothing again.
“You’ve been working awfully hard, and this has been a shock. Why don’t you call it a day?”
He looked toward the work tables. “I have to finish the … the …”
I followed his gaze and saw what he’d been working on. Aria Cakes. His creation for Vi.
“I’ll finish this batch,” I said.
He dropped his face into his hands, but almost immediately straightened, wiping his cheeks. “No, I can do it.”
“May I help?”
He gave me a long look, then nodded. I stood.
“I’ll just take this upstairs,” I said, lifting the bank bag. “Be right back.”
I gave Kris the bag, left my purse in my suite and changed into comfortable shoes, then went back to the kitchen and put on an apron. Julio handed me the job of making the almond buttercream icing while he tended a pot of syrup on the stove. We worked in silence, assembling the long cakes, trimming and cutting them, and decorating them with toasted almond slices and the last of my candied violets. There weren’t quite enough of those, so we had to break into the commercial ones, which weren’t quite as delicate, to finish the batch.
Ramon put a tray of scones into the freezer just as Dee and Mick came in. From the look on Dee’s face, they’d heard the news. I asked them both to step into the butler’s pantry, not wanting to discuss Vi in front of Julio.
“Is it true?” Dee asked me. “Is it Vi? That’s what the news is saying, but—”
“The police haven’t announced it yet, but yes. Detective Aragón told me it’s been confirmed.”
Dee started crying. I offered to let her go home, but she shook her head.
“Why don’t you go upstairs for a few minutes,” I said. “Sit by the window. I’ll bring you some tea.”
She agreed, and headed upstairs escorted by her brother. I started a pot of tea, then checked with Rosa and Iz, who had everything under control, though they looked a little harried. I poked my head in the gift shop, where Nat was just saying goodbye to some customers.
“Shoo,” she said to me. “You don’t want to be up front. There’s a news van camped out on the street.”
Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens Page 17