Midsummer Murder (5 page)

25

Shelley Freydont

“Of course not,” agreed Biddy. “But he needs to be with his friends.

We’re outsiders, and it wouldn’t be right to force ourselves into that friendship. Besides, it’s none of our business.”

“Oh, there you are.” It was Stuart. “Ellis and Marguerite are right behind me. Shall we go up to the house for a nightcap?”

Brother and sister appeared at that moment, Marguerite leaning heavily on Ellis’s arm. She looked tired to the bone.

“Of course,” said Lindy. She saw Biddy shoot her a quick look.

“Robert and Chi-Chi and Jeremy are already there. I think they wanted to talk,” Lindy added.

“Then let’s join them, by all means,” said Stuart. With a brief look toward Biddy, Lindy stood and linked her arm around Marguerite’s free one. Marguerite squeezed back and took a moment to catch her breath.

They started toward the house, Biddy and Stuart following behind.

* * *

As they entered the drawing room, Sandiman was just handing drinks to Chi-Chi and Robert who were sitting together on the couch.

Jeremy had pulled up a side chair and was leaning toward them, his elbows resting on his knees. His face registered a flash of something that might have been annoyance as the others entered the room, then quickly changed to concern when he saw Marguerite.

He rose and took her from Ellis and Lindy and led her to the chair he had just vacated. “I’ll get you a cognac.”

Marguerite smiled at him. “Thank you, dear. I think you can go to bed now, Sandiman. We’ll help ourselves.”

Sandiman nodded slightly. “Good night, madame.” He nodded again to the others and quit the room.

“Robert, you look ghastly,” said Marguerite. “You are taking too much of this on yourself. Chi-Chi, please take him to bed.”

Robert shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about something that happened yesterday. If only I had paid more attention . . .” He took a deep breath, which caught in his throat. Chi-Chi covered his hand in hers.

He smiled a wan smile at her. “No, it’s just that—well—the thing is—Larry asked to speak to me yesterday. He seemed, I don’t know, 26

Midsummer Murder

worried. It was unusual for him to seek me out, but I thought he had probably just pulled some stunt that he was sure would get him into trouble and he was trying to deflect the outcome. I put him off until after men’s class today.” He took a sip of brandy then held the glass cupped in both hands between his knees. “Only by today he was dead. I thought I would just let him sweat a little. He was always so sure of himself. I figured that giving him time to stew over it would at least make him think twice about doing it again. Whatever it was.”

Robert lowered his head and stared into the brandy snifter. “I didn’t realize he was so disturbed. I should have talked to him then and there. What have I done?”

Marguerite was out of her chair and sitting next to Robert before the others had time to react. “Stop it this instant, Robert Stokes. It was probably just what you thought it was, and talking to him wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

Robert looked at her bleakly. “But what if—”

“He had an accident, plain and simple.”

“But what if it wasn’t an accident? If he was really troubled and I turned him away. He might have been desperate.” Robert’s voice broke off. His head jerked from one face to the other.

“Are you suggesting that the boy might have killed himself?”

asked Stuart.

“Nonsense,” said Marguerite. “Larry Cleveland was not a boy to commit suicide. He took one too many chances, and his luck ran out.

There it is.” She looked around the room. “I will not have Robert taking the blame on himself. I’m sorry the boy is dead, but no amount of second guessing will bring him back.”

“Did you tell this to the police?” asked Stuart.

“No, I—I didn’t think about it until after they had left. I’m still not sure it has anything to do with what happened.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“I hardly see how that would help.” Ellis walked back from the window where he had been standing. He looked at Stuart. “Well, if he must, he must, but I still don’t see how it will help.”

“I’ll tell them first thing in the morning, I’m sure they’ll be back,” Robert said bitterly. “Though I’m not looking forward to talking with Byron.”

Chi-Chi patted his hand. “I think we’ll go home now.” She took his glass and set it on the table. Robert obediently stood up.

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“I’ll walk you out, and then I’ll take myself off to bed.” Marguerite walked beside the couple as they left the room. “Good night,” she said and closed the door behind them.

Stuart moved to the couch and motioned Ellis to join him. “I don’t envy Robert facing Grappel in the morning,” he said. “But really, it can’t be helped. In view of the possible ramifications, we must do all we can to assist the police in their investigation.”

“Investigation?” asked Biddy.

“Just normal procedure. Nothing to worry about.”

Ellis’s mouth pulled into a grim line. “Be assured that nasty son of a bitch, uh, pardon, ladies, will make things as uncomfortable as possible. Miserable bastard.”

Lindy wasn’t sure whether Ellis had been referring to Robert or Sheriff Grappel with his last statement.

“The sheriff doesn’t seem too popular,” she ventured.

Stuart lifted his glass to her. “I think we can all drink to that, my dear. You would be hard put to find a meaner piece of work than Byron Grappel. Backwoods inbreeding or something of the sort.”

Ellis choked on his drink. “Stuart.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“He’s always been a hothead,” said Jeremy. He had been so quiet that Lindy had almost forgotten he was in the room.

“Surely, he wasn’t sheriff here when you were a student,” she said.

“He doesn’t look that much older than the rest of us.”

“No.” Jeremy spoke slowly as if his thoughts were miles away.

Ellis took up the explanation. “I think he had just started as a patrolman, the first year you were here.” He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “He was engaged to Chi-Chi.”

“Chi-Chi?” Biddy and Lindy said simultaneously.

“And therein lies the rub. He and Chi-Chi had been childhood sweethearts. Everyone in town expected them to marry as soon as Byron had saved enough money.”

“You mean she’s a local girl?” asked Biddy.

“Oh yes. She was here working as a maid that summer. She fell head over heels in love with Robert, didn’t she, Jeremy.”

“What? Oh, yes,” Jeremy agreed and returned to the contemplation of his brandy.

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“They were married at the end of the summer, the last day of camp.

Best thing that ever happened to Robert . . . and to Chi-Chi,” Ellis said as an afterthought. Then he chuckled. “You would have enjoyed that, Stu. Byron showed up the night before the wedding with a shotgun.

Chi-Chi walked right up to him, stuck her nose in his face, and kicked him in the shin so hard that he dropped the gun. While he was hopping around on one foot, rubbing his leg and cursing like almighty thunder, Chi-Chi takes the gun, walks over to the lake, and chucks it right in. God, the girl had an arm.” He laughed again, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. He leaned back against the couch, still chuckling. “You know, Jeremy, I haven’t thought about that wedding in years.”

“A formidable lady,” said Stu.

“Yes, she was,” agreed Ellis. “Gave a whole new meaning to the expression ‘shotgun wedding’.” His eyes danced with amusement, then came to rest on Jeremy’s. “That was quite a summer, wasn’t it?”

He was answered by a rumble of thunder, so close that they all jumped. “And on that note,” said Ellis, “I think I’ll say good night.”

29

Three

Rain descended on the mountain during the night. Lindy was startled from sleep several times by claps of thunder and the sky flashing bright through the window. By morning the storm had changed into a steady downpour that lashed at the windowpanes and thumped heavily on the sills. The sky was gray and depressing.

Biddy groaned from the other bed. “Ugh, rain, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’m sure they will have plenty downstairs.” Lindy went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it run until clouds of steam thickened the air.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Biddy was sitting at the window, arms wrapped about her and wearing a thick Spoleto Festival sweatshirt over her nightgown.

“Nice look,” said Lindy. She shivered as she grabbed clothes from the bureau. “Pretty damn cold for July, if you ask me.”

“And nasty running from building to building in the rain just to work. Give me the city any old day.”

“Sissy. We’ll have you hiking and rowing and swimming in the lake before you know it.”

“Hiking maybe, as long as there’s a path, but swim in a place where icky things live and brush up against your legs and bite your toes?

Yuck! If we get two seconds off, I’ll curl up with a book and look out the window at the view.”

“Very literary, but even Eliza Bennet schlepped through pastures and climbed over stiles in the rain to visit Mr. Darcy.”

“Yeah, but Austen didn’t put in any snakes or mosquitoes or wild dogs. I’ll just be the perfect weekend guest and get the vapors anytime 30

Midsummer Murder

someone suggests mountain climbing.” Biddy walked into the bathroom.

The sound of running water drowned out her next words.

“Well, suit yourself, I intend to explore every nook and cranny,”

Lindy said above the noise.

A few minutes later, Biddy came back into the room scrubbing her hair with a fluffy pink towel. “I suppose it’s useless to dry my hair. It’ll just get wet again.”

“Yep, hurry up. I want to go make sure everything is running according to schedule. I’m sure Jeremy has taken care of it, but he did seem distracted last night.”

“I’ll say.” Biddy’s face clouded momentarily. “It sure would be a lot easier on all of us if he didn’t try to carry the weight of the world all by himself. Between him and Robert there’s enough responsibility-taking to spread over an entire camp of pampered, undisciplined dancers.”

“Next, you’ll be giving a speech about the old days, when we had to walk through the snow to class, and only had one pair of black tights, that we had to wash out in the sink every night. Get dressed.”

“Well, I think Marguerite is right. There just isn’t the discipline there used to be.”

“You don’t think our dancers are disciplined?”

“They’re the exception. And that’s because of Jeremy. And even they like to party too much.”

“Some people . . .”—Lindy arched an eyebrow at her friend— “have a short memory.”

Biddy made a face and pulled on khaki slacks, then reached for her sweatshirt. “I wonder how Robert is this morning. I felt sorry for the guy. He was so upset.”

“It’s a good thing Chi-Chi is so nurturing,” said Lindy. “I wonder if they’ll let her sit in on Robert’s interview with the sheriff.”

“If I were the sheriff, I’d lock the door. I wonder what’s for breakfast?”

Biddy grabbed her dance bag, and Lindy followed her down the stairs. The spicy smells of coffee, eggs, and breakfast meats greeted them as they entered the dining room.

With a contented sigh, Biddy headed for the row of chafing dishes on the side board. “I could get used to living like this.” She reached for a plate.

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Shelley Freydont

“Yeah,
you
could. You never gain weight. I’d be too wide to get through the door after about two weeks.”

Biddy only nodded. She was already tucking into a pile of scrambled eggs.

* * *

Lindy watched Biddy eat while she sipped at black coffee and separated wedges of an orange. It was not great for her stomach, but her thighs would be thankful. After what seemed like an age of watching Biddy pack away eggs, toast and jam, and bacon, Lindy stood up.

“If you’re feeling revived enough for a walk, I think we should go check on the classes. Rebo is teaching modern technique to the students, if Jeremy didn’t change his mind.”

Biddy put her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair. “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” she said. “Let’s see if Jeremy has started company class. I don’t know why he didn’t let you teach it like you normally do.”

“Because this is his show,” said Lindy. “He wants to give it everything.”

“Yeah, well, after meeting Marguerite, I see where he gets his energy.”

* * *

Stuart was standing on the front porch, unfurling a giant umbrella.

“Big enough for three,” he said. They gratefully squeezed themselves under its protection and let Stuart lead them down the steps.

“And where are you ladies headed this morning? This rain shouldn’t keep up for much longer. It’s supposed to clear up by this afternoon.”

The sound of engines caught their attention. Two police cars turned into the drive and came to a stop in front of the steps, virtually blocking their passage.

“Insufferable bugger,” muttered Stuart. “Good morning, Sheriff,”

he said in a louder voice and directed a polite smile at the man getting out of the passenger side of the first car.

Sheriff Grappel nodded. “Is Ms. Marguerite inside?”

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Midsummer Murder

“I believe so. Sandiman will announce you. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Stuart tipped his head slightly toward the sheriff and scuttled Lindy and Biddy across the drive, one hand holding the umbrella, the other maneuvering his cane between their feet.

At the theater, Biddy left them to look in on company class.

“I’ll check on Rebo, but first: Stuart, is there an infirmary and doctor on the grounds?”

Stuart raised his eyebrows. “Of course, are you in need of one?”

“No,” said Lindy. “But I thought the kids could use some grief counseling. There was one boy I saw last night that seemed particularly upset. Do you think it would be impolitic to suggest it?”

“Not at all. I expect Dr. Addison has already set something up. She’s a superb physician. An old friend of Marguerite’s. It’s this way.”

They walked down the path they had followed the night before, past the student dining hall, then Stuart veered off to the left. The trees sheltered them from the worst of the rain, but drops fell from the leaves and made thudding noises as they hit the surface of the umbrella.