Devil May Care (19 page)

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"They're so faded I can't decipher them," Ellie said. "They were written in a different kind of ink from the body of the text."

"I wonder why they didn't use the same India ink," the doctor murmured. "You know what this reminds me of?--the different kinds of ink, not the form--old Egyptian manuscripts I've seen in museums. The main text was written in black ink, which has held up incredibly well for thousands of years. But sometimes special words--what would correspond to paragraph headings in our texts--were written in red ink, to make them more conspicuous. Rubrics, I think that's what they were called. The red ink has often faded, just as this has."

Donald, on his way to the door with two bowls of dog food, came to a stop. He put the bowls on the counter and leaned over his father's shoulder.

"Something occur to you?" Dr. Gold asked.

"I was just thinking," Donald said slowly. "But I can't really believe ... Something about the arrangement of those words; faded as they are, I get an impression of--names. Like at the bottom of a contract."

The doctor held the parchment at an angle, trying to get the maximum amount of light on the surface.

After a while he shook his head.

"Possible, I suppose, but I really can't see enough to be sure. Don't they have methods for bringing out faded writing? Ultraviolet light, or chemicals of some kind?"

"That's an idea," Ellie said. "We could ask about that at the University too."

"Has Kate got a Latin dictionary?" Donald asked.

"Probably. She has everything else. But why a dictionary?

We know what the text says, and we can't even see the other words." "Mmm," said Donald. A plaintive whine from the patio reminded him of his duties as waiter. He picked up the bowls and went out.

156 Elizabeth Peters

"I don't think we can get anything more out of the manuscript," Dr. Gold said, laying it to one side.

"Now for your outline. I get a couple of ideas from that." "What?" Ellie looked hopefully at him. He smiled at her.

"I'm afraid my ideas aren't very startling, Ellie.

The first point is the one you made. To date, five of the old families of the county have been represented by your apparitions. Why not the sixth?"

"To date," Ellie repeated. "I hate to think it, much less say it; but the performance may not be over."

"I'm afraid I came to the same conclusion. It appears, then, that someone is playing a series of practical jokes aimed at the founding families. I know, I know; the word '' seems inappropriate. But with one obvious exception these episodes have done no damage, except to your nerves. They don't even threaten the members of the families involved, except with a certain amount of embarrassment."

"I don't agree, Dad." Donald had come back for the final round of dog food. "Suppose these stories were widely disseminated--like, suppose some news service printed them. Could they do any of our friends serious damage--reputation-wise?"

He winked at Ellie, who made a rude face at him.

The doctor ignored this byplay; he looked thoughtful.

"I don't see how, Donald. Nobody cares about the minor peccadilloes of a century ago." "Miss. Mary cares," Donald said. "She's a little cracked on the subject of her family. She would regard an attack on Granddaddy's reputation as a personal threat. And Marge's popularity--and income--depends on the fact that a lot of imbeciles think of her as sweet and noble."

"I'll give you Miss. Mary," the doctor said slowly.

"A thing like this could hurt her--not materially or financially, but emotionally. But Marjorie? Her addevil-MAY-CARE 157

mirers are--well, let us be kind and say that they are not particularly logical people. No, I don't see how it could hurt her even if it turns out that her grandmother was--er--a woman of ill repute."

"What about Mr. Mcgrath?" Ellie asked. "He's another nut on the subject of family." The doctor smiled tolerantly.

"In popular parlance, Roger is a trifle paranoid.

He tends to interpret any criticism as a personal attack.

You see what you're doing, don't you, Ellie?

Miss. Mary and Roger are beginning to look like the victims of the jokes. I insist on that word; the worst these things can do is annoy and distress some people."

"Except Ted." Ellie shifted her feet; they were getting numb from the weight of William's head. He moaned pathetically and licked her shoes.

"Yes," the doctor said soberly. "Except Ted. That was obviously an accident, Ellie, but that one episode is strikingly different from the others--an anomaly in an otherwise consistent series. It was a purely physical event--one might even say ordinary or commonplace, in these days of rising crime. Was there anything about the library, or about Ted himself, to suggest that he had encountered an--well, let's say apparition, for the time being--such as you saw on all the other occasions?"

"No, nothing. The police said it was quite clear cut.

The burglar broke the glass, got his hand in, and unbolted the door. So far as I could tell, nothing was taken, but of course we assume the burglar was interrupted before he found what he was after."

"This book?" The doctor held it up.

"Yes. That was how we happened to find the parchment. But I can't imagine why anyone would commit burglary to get it."

Donald came back in time to hear the last speech.

He slammed the door and locked it.

"All the livestock is set for the night. Dad, there's

158 Elizabeth Peters one point that didn't occur to the police. The burglar was someone who knew the house."

"Why do you say that?"

"For one thing, that's the only set of doors that could be jimmied so easily. I've spoken to Kate about it several times. Sure, he could have prowled around the house till he found the best place to break in.

But that would have taken a lot of time, and I can't believe the dogs wouldn't have heard something.

They are incredibly stupid, but they wouldn't let a stranger crash around in the shrubbery for half an hour without commenting."

He moved as he talked, finishing the cooking; the steaks needed only a final touch of the broiler name.

Eliie shifted her elbows as he slapped a plate down in front of her. Manlike, he had served from the stove; why get all those bowls dirty? he would have asked if she had commented.

She was pleased to see that the doctor looked perfectly relaxed and at home; his elbows stuck out jauntily as he carved his meat and he continued to talk animatedly, sometimes with his mouth full.

Ellie offered to clear off the table, and Donald didn't argue with her. He wandered off, mumbling something about the library. In spite of Ellie's objections the doctor helped her scrape dishes, his sleeves roiled up and his hair rumpled. The cats hung around until the last scrap was disposed of, and then departed.

They had barely finished when Ellie heard the doorbell. Kate had had a set of particularly revolting chimes installed; they played the first few bars of the choral section of Beethoven's Ninth.

"It can't be them yet," Ellie said, glancing at the clock. "It's only seven thirty."

But it was.

"We came early, to avoid the storm," Senator Grant explained. "I hope you don't mind."

He was the only one who spoke. For a few uncom-

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fortable seconds Ellie stood motionless, confronting the silent group. She knew how a householder of a less tolerant era must have felt when he opened his front door to find a delegation of neighbors who had come to complain about some transgression--failing to come to church, perhaps, or working on the Sabbath.

The same hard, critical faces, the same sense of a mob much larger than the actual numbers ... "Come in," she said, fighting an irrational urge to slam the door and run. "No, of course, I don't mind.

The sky does look dreadful, doesn't it?"

Normally at this hour on a summer afternoon it was still full daylight outside; the sun did not drop below the horizon until close to nine. But today it was almost as dark as night. Rolling clouds covered most of the sky. Only a few bars of sullen scarlet showed in the east; the rest of the sky was a study in shades of gray and black and purple, boiling like a caldron of some unspeakable liquid. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but so far only a few large drops had fallen, leaving damp spots the size of dimes on the steps.

"I hate this weather," Anne Grant muttered. "It's like radiation or something. My skin feels all prickly."

Ellie led them into the library. There was a long, directors'-size table in the room, and plenty of chairs.

She was hoping Donald was still there and was relieved to find both Golds waiting.

Senator Grant was the only one of the guests who seemed to find the situation embarrassing. He began to apologize--Ellie wasn't quite sure what for, and doubted that he knew, either--but he was cut short by Miss. Mary.

"Don't waste time, Alan," she said and closed her lips like a trap on the end of the sentence.

The Golds did all they could to relieve the tension.

The doctor's very presence radiated calm; he seemed to be respected by all his neighbors, even by Miss. 16O Elizabeth Peters Mary--which was a tribute to his personality, for Ellie suspected that the marriage of Donald's mother had been regarded as something of a mesalliance.

Donald offered drinks all around, and this also improved the atmosphere. Miss. Mary, of course, did not drink. She accepted a cup of tea. They finally settled down around the table, and Ellie realized, with an uncomfortable sinking sensation, that all eyes were focused on her.

She cleared her throat.

"I appreciate your coming," she began in a thin little voice. Then she caught Donald's eye, saw the amusement in it, and rallied. "I really don't know what is going to come out of this meeting," she said, more briskly. "But I guess you have a right to know what has happened. It all began--"

She broke off as William--who was, of course, under the table--let out a yelp. From the look on Donald's face she deduced that he had tried to kick her in the shin and had kicked William instead.

"Would you care to narrate the events that have transpired?" she inquired formally.

"Yes," said Donald.

He was better organized than she would have been, she had to admit that. Probably he had also anticipated that there would be comment, and felt himself better equipped to deal with it. She would not have been able to squelch Roger Mcgrath as neatly as he did. The others did not interrupt. Miss. Mary sat with a face like stone, even when Donald described her grandfather Lockwood's leer.

He finished by displaying the sheet of parchment.

It passed from hand to hand around the table. So far as Ellie could tell, no one gave it more than a cursory glance except Miss. Mary.

"You're the scholar among us, Miss. Mary," the doctor said, as she held the sheet up to the light and peered myopically at it. "What do you make of the text?"

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"It is certainly the Lord's Prayer," Miss. Mary said.

"Beyond that there is little anyone can make of it."

"I'm hoping some expert at the University can tell us more," Donald said. "They may even be able to read the writing at the bottom of the text, I'll take it over to Charlottesville tomorrow."

Miss. Mary grunted and passed the sheet to Senator Grant on her left. Ellie wondered whether the old woman could read Latin. She hadn't told them anything they didn't already know.

"How about another round before we begin the debate?" Donald asked hospitably.

Miss. Mary rose ponderously to her feet. "No. I should not have permitted any indulgence of that nature. Alcohol has a most unfortunate effect on communication."

Ellie was so aggravated at the old woman's assumption of authority that the meaning of the speech eluded her for a moment. The others, who knew Miss. Mary well, were quicker. The doctor was the first to speak.

"Miss. Mary, I cannot permit any such thing. It is childish and dangerous."

His voice was mild; he was an unimposing figure as he sat slouched in his chair, his hair unkempt and his tie loosened. But Miss. Mary sat down. For the first time in Ellie's experience of her, she sounded defensive as she continued, "I assure you, Doctor, I know how to deal with dangerous entities. I am not totally inexperienced--"

"That was not the danger I referred to," the doctor interrupted. "Kate would have my hide nailed to the door if I allowed such goings-on in her house."

"Now there you are mistaken," Miss. Mary said triumphantly.

"Kate and I have conducted several seances in this house. She has a frivolous mind, but it is not closed." "Hey," Ellie said, "just a minute, Miss. Mary. I don't want any more ghosts. We're trying to get rid of the ones we've got, not call up--"

162 Elizabeth Peters The remainder of her protest was drowned by a babble of voices. Donald's rose over the rest.

"What results did you and Kate get from your seances?" he asked interestedly.

Miss. Mary's iron control cracked for an instant.

"I prefer not to discuss it."

A broad grin spread over Donald's face. He glanced at Ellie and she grinned back at him. Like Donald, she had some idea of what Kate could do to a seance when she was in a whimsical mood. It was becoming a little unnerving, the way she and Donald were communicating, with only an exchange of glances. Ellie's eyes dropped.

Finally the doctor pounded on the table for order.

"This is a waste of time. Has anyone got a useful suggestion? I think," he added dryly, "that we must return to the primary-school method of raising hands to gain the floor, or we'll all be talking at once."

The Senator's hand was the first to rise. An indulgent little smile played around his lips as he made the childish gesture, and when the doctor nodded at him he rose with the graceful deliberation he displayed in his TV debates.

"Ladies and gentlemen ... "

He talked for several minutes. His voice was that of a trained speaker, smooth and well modulated.

One platitude followed another: We must all keep our heads, discretion is certainly called for under such unusual circumstances ... The speech could have been summarized in a single phrase: Let's keep this quiet.