18 Deader Homes and Gardens (16 page)

Felicia appeared at his side, a dish towel in her hand. “Charles, your dinner is ready. Please come eat while everything’s hot.”

“Everything had better be hot when I choose to eat. Go back to the kitchen and wait there.” He did not see the glare she shot at his back as she left the room.

He deserved a dose of whatever had killed Terry, I thought as I clenched my fists. “Well, Charlie, were you that angry?”

Purple blotches spread on his face, and for several seconds, he was speechless. I was glad we weren’t on the bank of the stream. “Mrs. Malloy,” he managed to say, “leave my property immediately. Should you return, I will have you arrested for trespassing and harassment. I don’t care if your husband is a five-star general. Go home and become an obedient wife. Your lack of modesty is shameful.”

“Shameful? You haven’t seen the half of it, buddy boy.” Since I had no idea what I had just threatened him with, the best I could do was spin around and stalk to my car. I slammed the door, started the engine, and drove back to the blacktop. Had there been dust, I would have left a cloud.

*   *   *

There were at least two hours before sunset. My best-laid plan had gotten me nowhere. I now knew that Margaret Louise was someone with whom to reckon, and that the Finnellys were as Nattie had described them. I turned in the direction of the Old Tavern and parked in front of the door.

Nattie came outside as I climbed out of the car. “What’s going on? Is Terry okay?”

I related the bad news. She stared in disbelief, then finally shook her head and said, “There’s something terrible happening here. I don’t know what to do. First Winston, and now Terry. I liked both of them. They made the sun shine on this dreary place.” She began to cry and made no attempt to wipe her tears as they coursed down her face.

I put my arm around her shoulder and led her to the chairs in the backyard. “I wish I knew what to say, Nattie. I can’t stop myself from feeling guilty. If I hadn’t fallen in love with the house, Terry would be sitting in a bar in Key West, drinking a margarita while he waited for the sunset.”

“He should have stayed there and left us alone to mourn for Winston.” She gripped the chair arms with such intensity that her knuckles were white. “What painful memories he brought back with him.”

I put aside my sympathy and said, “I don’t know what happened to Winston, but Terry was murdered. Someone is responsible.”

“It’s frightening,” Nattie said as she gazed at the distant bridge. “The whole thing was nothing more than a spat over Winston’s house and acreage. Ethan told me that he and Charles spoke to Terry the day after he arrived home from Europe. They offered him a fair price, but he became hostile and ordered them to leave. Two days later, he was gone. They filed the lawsuit when they realized that he wasn’t coming back.”

“How did Charles and Ethan know about the deed?”

“You’ll have to ask them. I certainly didn’t know anything about it until Ethan told me. It was the day after Winston’s body was found. He was flabbergasted that Winston hadn’t wanted to keep the valley intact, and very hurt. We sat here and talked about it for a long time that afternoon. I agreed that Terry might be willing to settle the matter as quickly as possible. I was wrong about that.” She tried to laugh, but it wasn’t convincing. “It was a painful situation for all of us, including Terry. He came home from his poker tournament, eager to see Winston, and then learned about his tragic death. He cried on my shoulder. I felt like his mother, even though I’m only five years older. I kept thinking that I had to bake for him—bread, muffins, cinnamon rolls, something. I ended up burning a pan of brownies and dumping it in the trash.”

“You did what you could,” I said as I leaned over to squeeze her hand. I waited a few minutes to allow her to regain her composure while I mulled over what she’d said. “Did anyone try to get in touch with Terry after the death?” I’d long since stopped categorizing it as an accident, but I wasn’t ready to use the other two theories: suicide or murder.

“How could I have done that?” asked Nattie. “All I knew was that he was in Europe.”

“He would have left contact information with Winston, don’t you think? Maybe on the desk in the library or on a kitchen counter.”

She caught her breath. “It didn’t seem right to go inside the house. Maybe someone should have, but we were in mourning. No one was thinking clearly. Charles took care of the funeral arrangements. Despite his antagonism, he was upset to lose a family member in such a horrible way.”

“I’ve noticed how sensitive he is. You may not have been thinking clearly, but Ethan was. He could have been looking for guidance for the funeral service when he found the deed in a desk drawer or folder. It’s public record at the courthouse, but he would have had to know the deed existed in the first place. Which nobody did, from what you said.”

“Maybe Pandora had a vision while she was munching pokeweed berries,” Nattie said. “You’ll have to ask Ethan, Claire. I can’t explain it.”

I put that on my agenda, but I had a feeling I’d have no more luck with him than I’d had with Charles Finnelly. If I included Margaret Louise and Felicia, my batting average would send me back to the minors. Nattie excused herself and went into the Old Tavern. In the vicinity of the nursery, a truck rumbled to life. Minutes later I watched it drive across the bridge and around a bend. The driver must not have been thrilled to spend the remainder of the weekend delivering trees and shrubs to Missouri. I hoped he was getting overtime.

I was wasting time, I told myself sharply. I had less than twenty-four hours to find Terry’s killer. Once Peter was back, it would be trickier to avoid violating his bureaucratic dicta while I sleuthed. There would be an official investigation once food poisoning was ruled out, although there might be a delay until an autopsy eliminated any kind of preexisting condition. Such things as blood clots and aneurisms could kill quickly. I knew perfectly well that Terry had been poisoned, but I also knew the police were sticklers for protocols and procedures. In the fable, the plodding tortoise won the race. I fully intended to be sitting on the finish line, nibbling a carrot, long before the investigation broke into a sweat.

There was one enormous hurdle in my path. No one in Hollow Valley knew that Terry had returned from Key West under the cover of darkness. The headlights of his rental car would not have been visible from the other houses, nor would the interior lights of the house. Billy Bobstay and his friends wouldn’t have alerted any of the members of the family. I certainly hadn’t. How long had the vodka bottle been lurking in the liquor cabinet like a brown recluse? Nattie knew about Moses’s forays into Winston’s house to drink whatever caught his rheumy eye. I’d seen him drink two bottles of wine. His tastes were likely to be eclectic, from absinthe to zinfandel. Other family members must have known, too. He was the reigning patriarch, for better or worse, and therefore to be protected—not poisoned.

I was not so lost in thought that I failed to see movement out of the corner of my eyes. “It must be uncomfortable sitting in that tree, Jordan. Come down before the starlings attack.” In truth, I wasn’t sure that it was Jordan, but it seemed like a logical guess. The Finnellys were having dinner, Margaret Louise was transforming herself from a well-worn flower child to a great-aunt, and Pandora Butterfly wasn’t able to remain silent for more than a few seconds. I heard a thump, but I continued to watch the sunlight shifting on the woods beyond the bridge.

“I can’t believe Terry’s dead,” Jordan said as she sat down in the grass. “I mean, what a bummer. I was thinking that he was cool and that I might survive the summer, as long as I could sneak over to his house sometimes. Now all I can look forward to is watching the geraniums wilt.”

“Every once in a while, Jordan, it’s not about you.”

“Yeah, I know, but I can’t show any weakness. If I do, they’ll pounce on me like a pack of wolves. Terry was cool. He wasn’t all snooty just because he’d lived in New York and hung out with famous people. I guess they’re famous. I’ve never heard of any of them.”

“You might if you go to school,” I said.

“Sure, and sit in a row of identical desks and listen to a teacher drone on and on about stuff that’s never going to have anything to do with my life. When’s the last time you did an algebraic equation, Ms. Malloy? If I have a job that requires me to explain the impact of the Industrial Revolution on current economic policies, I won’t have to hang myself. I’ll slowly disintegrate into a pile of subatomic particles and be blown away by a solar flare.”

“I admit that doesn’t sound too exciting.” I wondered what would have become of me if Peter hadn’t blundered into my life. I’d grow too old to manage the Book Depot and end up in a dusty little apartment with cats and the last remaining book made out of paper.

“You two don’t look very chipper,” Nattie said as she placed a tray on the table. “You’re too young for wine, Jordan. There’s a pitcher of lemonade inside.”

A croak burst out of my mouth. A pitcher of lemonade, a splash of vodka, and an ambulance. “Thank you, Nattie, but I have to drive back to town in a few minutes. My husband will fix a squeaky door, but he refuses to fix my parking tickets. If I were picked up for a DWI, he’d line up to testify against me.”

“Wow,” Jordan murmured. “That’s hard.”

I hoped it wasn’t true, although I wasn’t positive. Peter had arranged for my car to be towed, simply because he was in a snit. He’d stationed an officer to prevent me from leaving my apartment, which had required me to come up with a devious escape plan. There have been moments when he seemed to be picturing me in a holding cell. “I’ve changed my mind, Nattie. I’d love a splash of wine. Would you like a piece of cheese?” I asked Jordan as I held out the plate.

She looked at me as if I’d offered her a ticket to Hawaii (or a get-out-of-jail-free card). She glanced at Nattie, then grabbed the plate. “Hell, yes. All I had for lunch was—” She caught herself. “Thank you.”

Nattie nodded. “I’ll make it my responsibility to see that you have a decent lunch break. Ethan gets so passionate about the plants that he forgets to eat. I’ve seen the workmen huddled behind an outbuilding, eating lunch.”

“And chain-smoking,” Jordan said. “They’re real careful to pick up the butts so Ethan won’t find them. When he caught Mariposa sneaking a quick cigarette near the red maples, he yelled at her until she burst into tears. I don’t know if he fired her, but she never came back. I wouldn’t have.” She produced an admirably dramatic sigh. “I don’t have that option. Ethan yells at me all day, no matter what. If I do a good job, he tells me that I was too slow. If I try to hurry, he tells me that I was sloppy and makes me do it again. When I get incarcerated in that boarding school, I’m going to read up on child labor laws.”

I retrieved the plate of cheese. “Run along, Jordan. Aunt Margaret Louise is expecting you.”

“Expecting me to do what? Clean the bathroom? Scrub the floor on my hands and knees?” She stood up. “I am so out of here. I wonder what language they speak in Oklahoma.”

Nattie waited until Jordan was out of sight. “An idle threat. She stowed away on a delivery truck a while back. After six hours of bouncing into pines and holly trees in the dark, with no air-conditioning, bathroom facilities, food, or water, she concluded that it was a poor idea. She was lucky that the driver let her sit in front on the ride back.”

“The workers loading the truck didn’t see her?”

She carefully poured herself a glass of wine. “Apparently not. She might have crawled in at the last minute, just before they closed the door. For all I know, she could have been wearing a black ski mask to cover those ridiculous rings and studs—and that hair. Looking at her makes me feel old, Claire.”

“I feel sorry for her. It sounds as though she and her parents are trapped in a futile cycle. They get mad at her for something, so she retaliates by doing something even worse. I hope she still has a few square inches of unsullied skin before she reaches maturity.” Thinking about Jordan’s angst-ridden adolescence reminded me of a question. “Nattie, from what I’ve heard, everyone in Hollow Valley knew that Winston was gay by the time he became a teenager. Did he announce it?”

“I knew Winston better than anyone, including his parents. We were practically soul mates, but I sensed that he wasn’t completely open about … certain things. Some of his poems hinted at his confusion and pain. I still have them in a box in my nightstand. I shall always treasure them.” She realized she’d wandered off track and said, “I only came during summer vacations, so if there was a formal announcement, I missed it. I think maybe there was a vicious rumor at school. Ethan and Esther must have repeated it to their respective parents.”

“Who’s Esther?”

“Charles and Felicia’s daughter. She’s a year older than Ethan.”

I was less than excited to hear that there was yet another Hollow. “Where is she? How did she escape from her parents’ piety?”

“She ran away when she was seventeen. It’s a touchy subject, especially for Felicia, so we never mention it.”

“Nobody knows what happened to her?”

Nattie shook her head. “All I can say is that I don’t know what happened to her. I hope she’s living in a million-dollar condo in Manhattan or with a disgustingly rich marquis in Tuscany. Anyone who survived seventeen years under Charles Finnelly’s tyranny deserves all the worldly wickedness she wants. She and I talked quite a bit. She told me that she had to come straight home from school, wasn’t allowed to participate in any outside activities, and was dragged to church twice a week. She had long braids and wore dresses that covered her arms and knees. I felt just awful when I thought about her, and the other kids, too. They were required to put in fifteen hours a week at the nursery.”

“It sounds pretty dreadful,” I murmured. The last time Caron had worn braids was in kindergarten. I still remembered the day she brought them home in her lunchbox. “Did the police conduct a search?”

“Ethan told me that Esther’s friends were candid with the police, who figured they weren’t going to have much luck tracking down a runaway.”