Aurora 08 - Poppy Done To Death (24 page)

Well, the deed had been done, and we were the possessors of yet another piece of unpleasant knowledge.

When I got home that evening, cooking was the bottom thing on my list of desirable activities. The day after Thanksgiving is just not a day to slave over the stove. That’s pretty much been done. So I was delighted to discover, among the messages on my answering machine, one from Robin inviting Phillip and me out to dinner. I almost dropped the phone in my haste to punch in his number so I could accept.

Phillip, back from a day out with another teenager, was less excited. The company of three adults seemed less appealing to him after a long afternoon with Josh, eyeing girls at the mall. I suspected my brother was lapsing back into his normal self, becoming more relaxed around me, rather than being so anxious to mind his manners and be helpful. He’d absorbed the fact that I wasn’t going to throw him out.

“Can’t I just stay here and eat leftovers?” he said in a voice suspiciously close to a whine.

“No, you can not,” I said in a voice suspiciously close to a direct order. I wondered again why my father hadn’t called to set up the return of Phillip.

Robin’s message was the third I’d listened to. The first two had been from, respectively, Cara Embler (who said she had found Moosie and would keep him at her house until we decided what to do with the cat), and the Clean Scene guy, Zachary Lee (who hoped we had found his service satisfactory and would recommend him to our friends). I looked at my watch and decided not to listen to my remaining messages. I was dusty, dirty, and badly in need of a general cleanup. I was thrilled Moosie had been found, and I made a mental note to call John David the next day and tell him the whereabouts of the little cat.

I told Phillip he looked fine. He hadn’t any more clothes anyway, and I hoped Robin would take that into consideration when he picked out a restaurant. I threw my clothes into the hamper, reflected that laundry day would have to be really soon, and tossed the small Wal-Mart bag I’d brought home with me onto the bathroom counter. Maybe tomorrow morning, I thought. Now was the worst time in the world.

The shower was blissful. I was clean all over, and relaxed, and much more optimistic when I emerged. I looked at myself in the mirror carefully. My bosom looked a little different, the aureoles darker, and when I put on my bra, I noticed that I was very sore indeed.

It took all I had to walk past the small bag, leaving it unopened.

Corinne was really fond of Italian food, and there was a new Italian restaurant about halfway between Lawrenceton and the interstate, an area that was beginning to run together in a big blur of commerce. Actually, the restaurant was not too far from the Grabbit Kwik, the filling station where Sandy Wynn had filled her car’s tank with gas on Monday.

I pushed the death of Poppy out of my mind. I tried not to think of all the unpleasant things Melinda and I had learned today. I forced myself not to think of the bag on the counter of my bathroom.

All that not thinking left my mind pretty empty. I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good conversationalist that night. I made an attempt to be a good listener, to encourage Corinne to talk, so I wouldn’t seem stupid by my silences. And I asked Robin a lot of questions. Phillip decided to talk about drug use in his school in California, to impress us unworldly southerners, I suppose. Robin reminded him in a few well-chosen anecdotes that he had spent the past two years living in Los Angeles among the movie crowd, and any stories Phillip chose to tell, Robin could easily top.

Corinne, as it transpired, had left her Chihuahua and her toy Manchester in the care of one of her daughters, and she had called to check on their well-being that very afternoon. Corinne was one of those women who had to have something to mother; for all I knew, that made her like most women. Now that her children were very much grown and gone, and her grandchildren visited from time to time but not for days in a row, the dogs had filled that gap for her. Though she was intelligent enough to realize not everyone wants to listen to detailed animal stories, she was besotted enough not to care, and we heard many anecdotes about Punky’s little trick with the bouncy ball, and Percy’s little wake-up routine.

That reminded me that I hadn’t laid eyes on Madeleine in a couple of days, and during a lull in the dog worship, I asked Phillip if he’d seen the massive old cat.

“No,” he said. “Maybe she didn’t like me and so she’s staying away until I leave.”

“Nothing would make Madeleine miss a meal,” I said.

“Was your cat named for the little girl in the books?” Corinne asked brightly.

“No, for the poisoner,” I answered, abstracted. “Madeleine Smith, Glasgow, 1857.”

“Oh,” Corinne said.

We didn’t hear any more dog stories for a while.

When Robin dropped us off, Phillip loped ahead to get in the house to watch some television show he was dying to see. Robin came in the foyer with me and shut the door behind him. He had a big, long, smoochy kiss on his mind, but when he pulled me to him, my sore chest protested.

“Not so tight,” I said, trying to smile.

“What’s wrong?” Not too surprisingly, he was bewildered. I’d been Passionate Woman the night before, and now I was practically pushing him away. But I was so averse to the idea of sex that I would have kicked him in the shins if he’d suggested it. I answered him by bursting into tears.

“What?” Terrified, Robin gripped my elbows. “What’s wrong? Are you upset about Poppy?

Madeleine? I’ll look for her tomorrow, I swear, baby.”

“No, not that.” I wanted to tell him about my long, unpleasant day, and I wanted to tell him what I was beginning to suspect might be the truth. But this wasn’t the place, and his mother was waiting out in the cold in the car for him to return.

“Your mom leaves Monday?” I sobbed.

“No, I forgot to tell you. Before she left home, she changed her reservation, because the airline called her with a last-minute cancellation,” Robin said. “She leaves tomorrow afternoon.

One of her best friends lost his son in an accident overseas, and the memorial service is scheduled for Sunday afternoon. Mom wants to be back for it. It’s just amazing she was able to get a seat on the plane. She was on the phone for hours, she told me, but she got it done.” He sounded admiring. “But tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t tell you right now,” I said. I wasn’t actively crying anymore, just kind of giving the occasional sob or gasp. This was crazy. I had no control over it whatsoever. I was just along for the ride. “Lots of stuff happened today. We need to talk tomorrow, after you take your mom to the airport. Call me.”

“Sure,” he said. Hesitantly, he leaned over and gave me a peck on the forehead. That was easier for him to reach anyway.

I was almost too tired to take off my clothes. I wished my brother good night, asked him to check the doors before he went to bed, cast a disconsolate look at Madeleine’s food bowl—still full—and tucked myself into bed. I thought I might lie awake a little and rehash the day, but the minute my head came into contact with my pillow, I was out.

Someone was shaking me.

Someone had hold of my shoulder and was saying, “Roe, wake up!” in a terrified voice.

I opened my eyes to sunlight. I had not slept two hours or so, as I’d assumed—I’d slept the night through, and then some. Phillip was standing by the bed, his face full of horror.

“What?” I asked, sitting up. My heart was racing and my mouth felt like a herd of something dirty—maybe mud-covered water buffalo—had wallowed in it. “What?” I asked again, more sharply this time. I was fully awake.

“My mom has gone and your cat is dead.”

I started to say something, closed my mouth, and opened it again. “Say that again,” I demanded.

“Those messages you didn’t listen to last night?” This was definitely said with an accusatory edge. “One of those messages was from our dad. He says my mom left and he doesn’t know where she’s gone. He says she’s gone off with some guy.”

For a wild moment, I wondered if Betty Jo, too, would hitchhike over to Lawrenceton. Then I came to my senses.

“That’s really awful,” I said. “But he doesn’t think she’s in any danger? I mean, there’s no question but that she left voluntarily?” Phillip looked blank. “She arranged to run off with this man,” I said, trying to clarify. “He didn’t abduct her.”

“Right,” Phillip said, calming down a bit. “She definitely left because she wanted to. She told Dad she’d get in touch with him soon. She told him to call me. She said she knew I was safe with you.”

That was rich, coming from the woman who’d whisked Phillip off all the way to California to keep him from my contaminating companionship.

“I’m glad she feels that way,” I managed to say, wanting a cup of coffee more than I had ever wanted any beverage in my life. “Now, I want to talk more about that later, because I know that’s definitely the more important thing, but did you say Madeleine was dead?”

Personally, I considered Madeleine much more important, but I was trying to be sensitive to Phillip’s pain.

“Oh, yeah, I went out in the backyard this morning, since the weather is good, and I was like kicking around this pine-cone, and when it landed on something in the bushes around the wall”—my backyard, like Poppy’s, was enclosed by a solid wood privacy fence, though mine was definitely shorter—“I went to see why it sounded so funny, and your big old cat was lying there on the ground, and she was all wet and everything, and she’s dead.” Phillip looked at me pathetically. He had had a tough morning, and it was only . . .

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Nine-thirty,” Phillip said. “See? There’s a clock right by the bed, Sis.” He may have been a tad sarcastic.

“Okay, so I didn’t look.” I groped for my glasses on the night table and put them on. I took a deep breath, then went into the bathroom to wash my face, trying to prepare to content this day.

I’d slept until 9:30 a.m. maybe four times in my life, and one of those had been after my senior prom, when I’d stayed out all night, as was the local tradition. I was dazed by so much sleep, and wondered what had prompted it. Then, glancing at the Wal-Mart bag, I suspected I knew, but I thrust the knowledge away from me forcefully. I had enough to deal with just at the moment, thanks very much. Pulling on the heaviest bathrobe in my closet, I slid my feet into my Birkenstock clogs and ventured out into the backyard. The day was clear and cold, and my ankles stung in the chilly breeze.

Madeleine was lying under a bush. She was nearly invisible, and I wasn’t surprised we hadn’t seen her from the house. She looked as peaceful as any dead thing can look. Apparently, the old cat had just lain down and died.

I believed that Madeleine was now in heaven with her original mistress, my friend Jane Engle. This conviction came to me so simply and naturally that I knew I would never question it.

“Phillip, I need you to go get a shovel from the garage,” I said. “You can bury her right where she is; maybe move the hole away from the bush a little so you won’t hit too many roots.”

“Me?” Phillip sounded absolutely amazed. “She was
your
cat!”

“Point noted,” I snapped. “But the one who loves the animal least gets the hole-digging duty.

I loved this old cat, and I’m really upset, and you’re twenty years younger than I am, and you get to dig the damn hole!”

I spun on my heel, as much as you can do that in clogs, and stomped back into the house to listen to my phone messages.

I sniveled and wiped my eyes and nose on a napkin before I poked the play button on my answering machine. The first message (after the three I’d listened to the night before) was from my father, and it went as Phillip had said. What Phillip hadn’t said, of course, was that my dad sounded both stunned and indignant, as if he’d never expected his straying from fidelity could have such dire consequences. And, apparently, Dad had never considered the fact that his wife might have followed his example. I noticed right away—and Phillip hadn’t mentioned this, either—that my dad said nothing about Phillip coming home.

Hmm. Dad and I needed to talk.

The next message was from my mother, confirming that Poppy’s body would be back in Lawrenceton on Saturday, today, and would be ready for burial on Monday. John David had set the service for ten o’clock at St. Stephen’s, and the interment would follow immediately.

I’d have to check the work schedule and see if I needed to arrange for the morning off. At this rate, Sam would cut me from the payroll. The library budget was always tight. I’d been picked to take a course in Atlanta about computer usage for librarians, and I was very excited about it.

I’d been on the verge of asking Sam if I could come back on the staff full-time. Maybe now I’d better not make that call, I thought.

Melinda had left a message to say Aubrey could see us at ten-thirty this morning.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, glancing at the clock. I washed my face again and put on some makeup, though my eyes looked red and swollen behind the rims of my glasses. I wore black ones today, with gold decorations on the earpieces. These made me look serious but fun-loving, I thought. I pulled on a pair of cerise pants and a cerise-and-white-checked sweater, so I wouldn’t look funereal. Then I thought I looked too cheerful, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had to go so I wouldn’t be late. I hate being late.

Besides, I thought as I backed out of my driveway, the day would probably take care of obliterating any cheerfulness.

Melinda got out of her car as I pulled into the lot by the church. She was wearing sweats today, jolly red-and-green sweats that had a huge reindeer head on the front of the shirt. With this outfit, she wore cute little red sneakers with green laces, and her red coat. The Christmas buildup had begun.

“Avery’s got the kids,” she said. “He’s pretty miffed at me because I wouldn’t tell him why we needed to talk to Aubrey. He’s very obviously trying to be brave about hiding it. I can’t think of the last time I had a secret from Avery.” She sounded mildly amused.

“Have you seen John David?”