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Authors: Mindy Starns Clark

Tags: #Mystery, #Romance

Elementary, My Dear Watkins (34 page)

BOOK: Elementary, My Dear Watkins
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Danny paced near the telephones, trying to figure out what to do. The plane would begin boarding in ten minutes, and he still hadn’t been able to reach Jo. Finally, he decided to try the number she had given him last night, for her grandmother’s house. He pulled out the crumpled paper and called it now.

A woman answered on the second ring. Danny identified himself and asked for Jo Tulip, but instead, after a few clicks, Jo’s grandmother came on the line instead.

“Danny, this is Eleanor Bosworth. How are you?”

“I’m fine, ma’am. I’m calling from Europe, looking for Jo. Is she around?”

He hated to rush her, but people were already starting to get out of their chairs and line up at the gate.

“I’m sorry, but she’s out in the studio right now. I’ll have to have her call you back. Can I give her a message for you?”

He hesitated. What should he say? That he was on his way? That he’d see her tonight? Suddenly, he felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

Should he skip this plane and not get on at all?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bosworth,” he said, thinking he might have lost his mind. “This might sound crazy, but I’m standing in the airport trying to decide whether or not to get on a plane to New York to come see Jo. It’s hard to explain why, but can you tell me if she’s okay? Is everything all right?”

“Well, the police are doing what they can, but they don’t really have any solid leads. Jo’s safe for the time being, now that she has twenty-four hour bodyguards. And Bradford’s still in the hospital, though he’s out of intensive care. Does that tell you what you need to know?”

Danny stood there like a stone for a long moment, simply staring at the receiver. Did that tell him what he needed to know?

“My flight gets in at eight forty-five tonight,” he finally replied. “I’d like to come straight to your house, if I may. Could you give me directions? I haven’t been there in years.”

She offered to send a car and driver to the airport to pick him up, but he declined, telling her that his travel agent had already reserved a car. Danny preferred to have his own set of wheels.

“That’s fine,” she replied, rattling off a simple route that would take him from JFK to her estate in Westchester County. “Of course, you’ll stay here. There’s plenty of room. Frankly, I’m relieved that you’re coming. In a way, the key to Jo’s safety lies in your hands.”

“Ma’am?”

“If you were to marry her, then this whole problem would be solved.”

As Danny watched the people at the gate filing onto the plane, he was unable to form a coherent reply.

“You told me last fall,” she added, breaking his silence, “of your intentions toward my granddaughter. I assume they still hold true?”

“Absolutely,” he said, finding his voice. “I love Jo more than life itself.”

“Then do the right thing and get here so the two of you can tie the knot. You can still have a big church wedding and all of that down the line. The important thing now is to get those shares vested, which would happen the moment she says ‘I do.’”

“Mrs. Bosworth, I don’t know how to say this, but I have no clue as to what you’re talking about. Jo has told me nothing. We spoke just yesterday, and she acted as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Unfortunately, if I don’t hang up this phone in about two minutes, I’m going to miss my flight.”

Mrs. Bosworth was quiet for a moment.

“She hasn’t told you anything?”

“No, ma’am. The only reason I was flying home was—” he hesitated, not wanting to mention the Helen Tulip connection just yet. “Well, it’s complicated. But from what you’ve been saying, it sounds like things are even more complicated there.”

“Complicated and confusing and frightening. Strangest of all is why Jo hasn’t shared any of this with you.”

Danny had to agree. He wasn’t sure whether to feel hurt or suspicious or simply scared.

“Mrs. Bosworth, would you do me a favor? Would you not tell Jo that we talked or that I’m coming? She doesn’t seem to want me there and, knowing her as I do, I’m sure she has her reasons. But that’s not going to stop me. It sounds like she needs me, whether she’s willing to admit it to herself or not.”

“Hear, hear! You go ahead and get on that airplane, young man. In the meantime, my lips are sealed.”

19

J
o hobbled to the greenhouse, her bodyguard a few steps behind. Through the foggy glass she could see Winnie at the potting table, deeply immersed in her work. Jo stepped inside, inhaling the wet, loamy smell of green, growing things. Muck, the gardener, was sitting on a cement bench nearby, sorting through a big box of sprinkler heads.

Jo greeted him and then walked toward the back of the structure, calling out a hello to her aunt. Winnie glanced up, did not reply, and simply returned to what she’d been doing.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jo continued, “but I wanted to see how you’re doing. Plus, I need to ask you a favor. First, though, are you okay?”

“What do you think?”

Jo could see that Winnie’s hands were shaking and that she was handling the seedling much too roughly as she moved it to a bigger pot. Not wanting to set her off into a rampage, Jo quickly tried to change the subject, admiring the plants and commenting on some early blooming hothouse roses. Winnie seemed to be growing more and more agitated, though, picking up the spritzer and vigorously pumping out squirts of mist at the newly potted plant.

Suddenly, Jo could feel the bodyguard’s hand on her elbow, gently leading her backward a bit so that he could insert himself between the two women. As he did, Jo felt a brief flash of fear—and she wondered for the first time if it was possible that one of her closest relatives really
could
be a killer. Winnie had always been a little “off,” as the family would say, but Jo had never, ever seen anything in her that was evil.

Eager to distance herself even more, Jo walked back toward Muck, who seemed to be dealing with some frustration of his own, though not in a frenzied way like Winnie. Clearly, there was a problem with the sprinklers. Jo asked if he needed help, and all he said was “Clogs.” Muck had always been a man of few words.

Jo picked up one of the sprinkler heads to examine it more closely and found that many of the tiny holes where the water was supposed to come out were indeed clogged. This problem she could handle. She advised him to use a three-step approach: scrub the heads with a toothbrush, use the hose to force water backward through the holes, and finally clear any remaining clogs with a wire. Considering how many sprinklers he was dealing with, though, that was going to be a tedious and time-consuming process.

Jo glanced back at Winnie, who seemed to be calming down. Now she was spritzing a nearby tray of seedlings, much more gently than before, her expression vague and distant.

“Thanks,” Muck mumbled.

“Those clogs are caused by sediment in your water,” Jo added, turning her attention back to him. “Are you drawing from the old well?”

He nodded. Back in the pasture was a picturesque stone well, now slightly crumbling, but still, apparently, functional.

“House is tied into municipal now,” he said, “but I still use the well for the grounds.”

In that case, she suggested that he install an inline filter, which he could probably find at any hardware store.

“That might save you from going through this mess every spring,” she added. “By removing the sediment, you’ll eliminate the clogging problem.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, nodding. “Good to know.”

Jo was just about to go when Winnie called out to her.

“Jo! You said you came in here to ask me a favor.”

Jo hesitated, not wanting to set off her unstable aunt again.

“It’s not important. I just wondered if there was a toaster or toaster oven in the guest house and, if so, could I borrow it? I’m trying out some different cleaning techniques.”

Winnie was quiet for a long moment, her disdain and anger communicated through her silence.

“I’ll have to take a look later,” she finally replied. “I take all my meals in the main house, so I’ve never had need to notice.”

“If there is one, just let me know. I’ll be working in the studio.”

Jo forced her tone to sound matter-of-fact and light, but as she stepped out the door and into the sunshine, she couldn’t help but breath a big sigh of relief just to be out of there.

Alexa finally emerged from her bedroom at noon, feeling almost human again after a long, hot shower and some quiet time slowly getting ready for the day. For some reason, she decided to forego the usual makeup and hairspray and try a more natural look instead, with just a little lip gloss and a dab of mousse in her hair. She kind of liked the way it looked, different than before, just the way she was different than before.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty, so she made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ate it standing at the window, watching the dog jump around in the grass outside. It looked like Muck had run some temporary fencing in a big loop out from behind the carriage house, creating a nice shady area for the animal to run around in. Though it was fun to watch him play, she just hoped the fence would hold and that the dog wouldn’t break out and try to bite her.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Consuela said, coming into the room, walking directly over to Alexa, and placing the back of her hand against Alexa’s forehead. “How are you doing? You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

Alexa waited until she pulled her hand away and then took another bite of her sandwich.

“Actually,” she replied, “I’m feeling a whole lot better. Still got a little headache, but my throat doesn’t hurt any more.”

Consuela seemed genuinely relieved, which Alexa found kind of touching.

“I’m glad I slept in, though,” she added. “Otherwise, I might’ve gotten really sick.”

“Maybe so.”

Consuela took a package of frozen meat out of the freezer and stabbed at the plastic cover with a knife.

“Your mother phoned here this morning,” she said, and instantly Alexa was on alert. Had her mom said anything about last night? Was she busted?

“Oh?” Alexa asked, taking another bite and trying to sound nonchalant.

“It’s a visitation weekend, you know, but she was calling to say that we didn’t need to pick her up from the train station because she has a ride. She’s driving up with a friend instead.”

Alexa just nodded, relieved that it didn’t sound as though her mom had blown it for her. Consuela slid the frozen meat into the microwave and, with a few beeps, started it defrosting.

“I told her you were a little under the weather,” she added, “but to be honest she didn’t sound too healthy herself.”

Coming off a 24-hour bender, Alexa wasn’t surprised. She hoped this meant that Uncle Rick was coming too. Maybe together, the two of them could talk to her mom in a sober moment and convince her to check herself into rehab. Alexa was worried about her.

Truly, if something drastic didn’t happen soon, Alexa was afraid her mother was going to end up dead.

In the studio, Jo lined up the three appliances she had acquired, which so far amounted to one regular toaster and two toaster ovens. Though they weren’t completely spotless, they were cleaner than she would have liked for a starting point. With a smile, she thought of all the dirty toaster ovens she could have probably collected from friends in Mulberry Glenn. Most of the people she knew usually kept the outside neat with a sponge or washrag, but never bothered to clean the inside unless they had a melted cheese spill. Danny was so bad that sometimes he didn’t even bother with that. He’d just keep using it until it stopped smoking. Oh, how she missed him. She wished he were there right now.

Next to the appliances she lined up the supplies she thought she might need: washcloth, toothbrush, nylon scrubber, vinegar, ammonia, stainless steel polish, paper towels, and a dishpan. She also needed dishwashing liquid, which she had forgotten to bring, so she left everything where it was and headed for the kitchen to get some. Alexa was in there with Consuela and Fernando, who were discussing the cleaning of the big chandelier in the foyer.

“Hi, Jo,” Consuela said, interrupting herself as Fernando left the room. “Listen, I just remembered that there’s another toaster in the garage, but it’s pretty old and dirty. Would you like that one too?”

BOOK: Elementary, My Dear Watkins
12.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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