Cemetery Silk (18 page)

“That's different. He probably threatened to kill her if she didn't help him.”

We argued until we got home, but I was feeling more and more chipper and less and less guilty with every mile. We arrived just as the sun was bursting out from behind the clouds. The remaining winds were shooing all the dark clouds across the sky like naughty dirty children off for a bath.

Mabel drove out of the driveway as we drove in, and we waved in passing. Cassie and Aggie were out on the patio. I waded through the wet grass to join them.

“Look, Mom, a double rainbow. Isn't it gorgeous?”

It was just that. Two lovely arcs of color, one brilliantly defined and the other faint and shimmering like a fairy ring above it. We gazed admiringly on it for a full minute or two; then, suddenly, it was gone.

“Oh,” we said in disappointed unison.

“I'd say let's sit outside for a while but the chairs are all wet.”

She laughed, “What the hell, so are you.”

I looked down and, sure enough, my jeans were muddy and soaked and my favorite moccasins looked like they were ruined.

“Damn! I love these shoes!”

“Holes and all?”

“Especially the holes.”

They had seen better days, but they had been expensive—Cole-Haan. I steadfastly refused to throw them away.

“If you're worried about your shoes and not your immortal soul, then you must be feeling a lot better.”

“Oh, Cass, wait till you hear! I'm next on the list of murder victims.”

She looked horrified. “And that's the good news?”

Aggie was making a beeline for a big muddy puddle.

“Grab your pooch and meet me in the library. I have to change clothes before I catch pneumonia. I wouldn't want to cheat the killer!”

I took a hot shower and washed my hair. I even sang while I was rinsing off. I could hear Aggie in the library howling along. Faith Hill, I'm not. I shrugged into a big, cozy, terrycloth housecoat, wrapped my hair in a towel and went to join the others.

Mother had let her fingers do the walking, and phoned The Golden Wok for a delivery. She and Cass were sorting out all kinds of goodies on the coffee table. Aggie was lying underneath in the hope that something delicious might be spilled.

“So you see,” I explained as I swallowed a mouthful of ‘Szechwan Chicken, Specialty of the House,' “Sue could be the real killer.”

“Then why did Ernest Dibber kill himself?” asked Cass.

“Hmmm, maybe he was despondent over the death of his girl friend?”

“Sorry, I don't buy it.”

“That's what Mother said.”

“Absolutely! I can't believe that Sue Dibber is a killer. She's too drab. Though I have to admit she didn't look that lifeless when she saw me in the hospital. She was furious, enraged. If she hadn't dropped that tray full of food and slid down in the mashed potatoes.…”

“Oh, my,” said Mother, “you didn't tell us that. No wonder she got a restraining order.”

I couldn't help it. The mental picture of my nemesis wallowing around in mashed potatoes in her starched white uniform was more than I could stand. I laughed and laughed. I guess it was mostly a release from all the pain I had been feeling. When I finally stopped, Mother and Cassie refused to listen to any more of my suppositions about Sue Dibber as a murderer.

“I know it makes you feel better, dear, but I think you had better accept the truth. Ernest was probably guilty, but we'll never know for sure. This case is closed. Let's just hope we come out of it with a roof over our heads.”

We cleared away all of the paper plates and cartons and opened our fortune cookies. Mother had a terrific fortune, of course, and Cassie's was a portent of love. Mine said one word: “Beware!”

Cassie went to change for a date with Danny. She would say nothing about her love life, no matter how hard we prodded. Mother was going to a bridge tournament at the Country Club with Horatio. She wanted to attend in “grand White Russian émigré style” and scotch the rumors of our impending bankruptcy.

I helped her choose a dress and jewelry for the evening. When they were gone, Aggie and I curled up on my bed for a much needed nap.

I woke up two hours later, my MSG parched throat begging for water. Aggie growled and nipped me on my little finger when I disturbed her trying to get out of bed. She was lying on the skirt of my housecoat and wouldn't get up. As a precaution against getting bitten again, I shrugged out of the terrycloth robe.

While I was feeling around in the dark for something to wear, the phone rang. I had left my wet moccasins next to the bed and I fell over them trying to pick up the receiver. I ended up lying on the floor on my stomach, naked as a jaybird. I hoped it wasn't the mysterious laughing man, or a heavy breather wanting to know what I had on. I finally managed to say, “Hello.”

“Paisley, is that you? You sound funny. Are you all right, dear? Horatio was worried about you. Should we come home?”

“No, of course not, I'm fine. I may have rabies, but other than that.”

“Oh, you disturbed the puppy's nap.”

“You guessed it.”

“Well, I imagine we'll stay then. They're having crème brulee and champagne at midnight. Oh, Paisley, before I forget, although I guess it doesn't matter now, but I promised Horatio I would tell you anyway.”

The floor was cold and uncomfortable.

“Tell me what, Mother?” I asked impatiently.

“Horatio says his friend in Lanierville did find something unusual on Rae Ann's body. The major injuries were the crushing ones to her head, neck, and legs. He said the torso was untouched except for a needle mark on her right buttock. He wouldn't have noticed, but there was a small drop of blood on her panties. Mean anything to you?”

“Let me think about it when I'm awake.”

“All right dear. Is Cassandra home yet?”

“No, but they don't usually stay out very late. She'll be home soon. Don't worry. Have fun.”

I hung up the phone and glared up at Aggie. She had crawled over to the edge of the bed to peer down and see what new game I was playing on the floor.

“Damn dog! One of these days I'm going to bite you back. When Cassie's not looking,” I added.

I found an old silk caftan that Mother had given me long ago. It was soft and cool, just perfect for a warm sticky night. I drank two glasses of water from the cooler in the fridge and filled another glass to take with me back to my desk. I had some work to do.

An hour passed before I had all the notes we had taken arranged in chronological order.

“Next time we do this, Aggie, if there is a next time, we must be more orderly.”

I went over and over everything we had written down, but I could find nothing that pointed the finger at Sue Dibber.

Where was Leonard Paisley when I needed him? Leonard found clues all over the place: the syringe still dripping poison, the pillowcase with the victim's hair, a foot print here, a tire mark there.

But then, Leonard had no conscience. He did not care about widows and orphans.

I began to get depressed again. What if I had really ruined these innocent people's lives with my arrogant and vengeful words? What if I had caused a distraught and humiliated father of five to take his own life? That's what a lawyer would say if the case went to court.

I turned down the desk lamp and went over to sit on the sofa by the dog. The French doors were still open and a faint breeze was coming in through the screen.

We had been here over a year now. I had thought it was a great year, a new career for me, a new life for the old farm, and a renewal of family for us all. Now all that was at risk.

“What a disaster, Aggie,” I said sadly as I ruffled her soft fur.

Big mistake! She bit my thumb hard and held on tight for at least twenty seconds.

“Damn! That's the last straw, dog,” I cried. “You're going into the crate until Cassie gets home.”

I picked her up by the middle, careful to keep my hands out of the reach of her vicious little teeth.

“Look, you little twit, you made me get blood on Mother's sofa!”

I carried the snarling, squirming puppy to Cassie's room and deposited her none too gently in her crate. She immediately started barking so I closed the bedroom door.

My thumb was still throbbing but the bleeding had stopped. I washed it off with antiseptic soap and found a Superman band-aid in the bathroom cabinet. I searched for, and found, a ratty, old washcloth. Mother never throws anything away. Her credo is that you usually find a use for it after you toss it. She's right, too. I wet the washcloth with cold water and hurried back to get the bloodstain off the sofa before it set.

I knelt down on the floor and rubbed the wet cloth vigorously over the stained sofa fabric. I didn't even notice the screen door was open until I felt something hard, cold, and metallic behind my left ear. I jerked and tried to get up.

“Don't get up, Missy! Not yet. Don't move a muscle. Not until I give you permission.”

I heard a ripping sound. It sounded like some kind of fabric or tape.

“Hold you hands behind your back. Slowly now. That's it. Good girl.”

My hands were tightly bound with adhesive tape. The gun, it had to be a gun, traveled in a slow, cold line from my ear to the middle of my back.

“Get up slowly or the evening will be over before you know it.”

I stood up clumsily, leaning against the sofa for leverage. A bony hand grabbed me by the nape of my neck and turned me around. The cruel nails dug into my throat before letting go.

Sue Dibber's nasty little gun was pointed straight at my heart.

“Thanks for getting rid of the cute little doggie. That little problem had me stumped for a while. I was afraid she would warn you. I guess she doesn't like you very much.”

She slapped me hard across the face with her free hand. “I don't like you very much either.”

I tried to think, but my ears were ringing and I was scared.

“Where's the living room?” She grabbed the front of my caftan and pulled. “Take me to your parlor, dear. We're going to make arrangements for a little family portrait, a posthumous portrait,” she chuckled. “It will make all the newspapers, ‘Distraught Novelist Kills Family and Self Over Lawsuit.'”

A black veil started to descend over my eyes and I stumbled against the coffee table. Pain shot through my shin and helped to clear my mind.

Sue Dibber was going to kill us all! I had to do something before Cassie and Mother got home. I was no super-heroine, but I could not allow this insane woman to harm my child or my mother.

She prodded me all the way down the hall. Twice she clubbed me hard on the shoulder with the gun barrel, almost driving me to my knees. She laughed each time, taking great pleasure in my pain.

A soft light shone from the direction of the living room. Mother always left the little Waterford table lamp on when I was out on a date. She must have left it on tonight for herself and Cassie.

Sue Dibber pushed me into the room and hit me hard in the midriff with her fist. I sat down heavily on the yellow chintz sofa gasping for breath.

“This is a beautiful room! My, you are the lucky little missy to have grown up with all of these beautiful things.”

She sat down on the other sofa. She still had on her white nurse's uniform and I noticed a tiny drop of blood on the hem of her skirt. I wondered whose it was.

“I wasn't so lucky,” she prattled on. “No sirrrree, my daddy was dirt poor and proud of it.”

She screwed up her pale little eyes.

“Yes sir, dirt poor and proud of it. He must have been because he never made a move to do anything about it. But me, I knew someday I'd be rich. I knew I would have nice clothes, a beautiful home, jewelry all those things I saw in the movies.”

She took a toffee from Mother's crystal candy dish and popped it in her mouth.

“Umm, yummy!”

She licked the candy carefully off her fingers.

“I used to look like a movie star. Can you imagine? That's what Ernie said when we met. He said I was the spittin' image of Jane Russell. I was too, except my hair was blond.”

Her crazy little eyes took on a dreamy look in the lamplight.

“I had beautiful breasts and pretty ankles. I guess you don't believe me, do you, what with the way I look now? You'd better believe me!” she screamed hoarsely.

She lurched up from the sofa, leaned over, and slapped me as hard as she could once again. My torn lip started to bleed. Anger began to take the place of my fear. I was getting tired of being Sue Dibber's punching bag, gun or no gun.

She fell back down on the sofa smiling wickedly and continued with her story.

“We got married in the church. Ernie was Catholic and I wanted to please him. I loved him so much. He made me pregnant, almost right away. I was so sick that first time. I almost died, placenta previa, almost bled to death. But I gave him his precious little baby. I thought he would love it but he couldn't stand to hear it cry. He started going out with his friends every night. He said the baby's crying got on his nerves. But he still wanted to sleep with me. I was proud of that. I was still curvy and pretty and I wanted him something awful. He said we couldn't use anything, you know, a condom. The Church wouldn't allow it.”

I stared at her in disbelief. The murderous witch had somehow managed to sound shy and demure.

“So,” she went on, “I got pregnant again. With the twins, I wasn't as sick but I felt so tired all the time—even more so after they were born. Ernest started making nasty jokes about me being a lazy couch potato. He left me alone all the time with those brats. I thought maybe I would learn to love them but I never could. I hated them! It was all their fault. They wore me out and ruined my figure; and they chased Ernest away.”

Big lazy tears squeezed down her plain cheeks. She took a wadded up tissue out of her pocket and wiped her face.