Mulch (24 page)

Janie, with faithful Chris. “Hi, Ma. I don’t mean to break in, but the caterer wants you for something.” The teenagers stood in the doorway, embarrassed, as
if
they had interrupted a tryst.

“Yes.” Louise jumped up from the chair, amazed at her agility. “I’ll come right away. Janie, Chris, I don’t think you’ve met Peter Hoffman.”

Peter languidly got to his feet, as if he had all the time in the world, and approached the young pair. “We invaded your
bedroom, Janie. It was crowded out there.” He stood looking down at Louise’s daughter, whose hair tonight was twisted and pinned up, with just a few blond curls falling artlessly down the sides and back. She wore what she called her Victorian dress, soft pink printed silk in an old-fashioned style with a square lace collar low enough to show the tops of her young breasts.

First he stared at her face. Janie stared back, as if in thrall. Then he raised a big hand and gently caressed a curl that had fallen on her right cheek. He moved the hand and raised her chin for an instant. Finally he took both of her hands and drew them up for closer inspection. “Beautiful face, beautiful hands. Like your mother.” That intimate, steely voice.

For an instant they all stood as if frozen. Chris looked embarrassed, his eyes seeking something to look at other than the tall man. Janie flushed, only increasing her luminosity.

Louise felt every alarm in her body activate.

“Excuse me while I go to the kitchen,” she said breathlessly. She clasped Janie’s arm and said, “Come with me, dear. They may need some help from us.” She pulled her gently away.

“Ma,” said Janie in a low growl, as they went down the hall. “Why did I have to come? I don’t think they need our help—I just think they need to talk to
you.”

Louise tried to keep her voice light, under control. “I’d prefer you don’t continue to stay in your bedroom while the party is going on out here.”

Janie looked curiously at Louise. “Oh. All right for you, not all right for me. Another double standard.” Her voice
softened. “But it’s okay. It’s something about that man-something you didn’t like, right?”

Louise looked into her blue eyes, innocent eyes, but painted tonight with the skill of Cleopatra.

“My love,” said Louise, and paused and touched the sleeve of her darling daughter’s gown. “Some other time I’ll try to explain it.”

Janie patted her mother on the shoulder. “Well, anyway, Ma, it sure sobered you up in a hurry. For a while there I didn’t think you were going to make it till the end of the party.”

Louise heaved a long sigh. “Oh, Janie. Sometimes I wish …”

“What?”

Louise smiled weakly. “Never mind. It’s just that you are such a truth teller.”

T
HE FIRST THING THAT CAME INTO HER CONSCIOUSNESS
was the singing. She opened an eye and focused in on the white knobs on the antique dry sink across the bedroom. The white sheet and coverlet covered practically her whole head and face, and she felt like a bear coming out of hibernation.

But much worse, probably. A bear would not have a head that felt like this. A head with a round ball of pain in it that needed excision.

Bill, she realized, was passing back and forth outside the closed bedroom door and singing in his usual adventurous monotone something she couldn’t recognize. Rolling Stones? Yes. “I’ll Never Be Your Beast of Burden.” Out there in the hall, deliberately trying to wake her up. She couldn’t help smiling. What a little pill he was!

She stirred her head and moved her shoulders and decided maybe she could get up after all. She swung weak legs down to the floor and sat there, trapped by her twisted silk nightie. Then she waggled her toes until she found her waiting mules and decided to rest for a moment.

The door opened. Fresh and dressed, he smiled at her. “At last! She lives. She sits up. Will she take nourishment?” He came over and started to sit down beside her on the bed.

“Be careful,” she warned. “Don’t rock the bed.”

“Bad head, huh?” He sat down and held her head in both hands as an archaeologist might hold an ancient skull. Then he gently massaged.

“Oh,” she moaned, leaning toward him. “Keep it up; I’ll follow you forever.”

“The reason I want you up is I have this great breakfast for you—a little sausage, a little scrambled egg with mushrooms.”

“Oh, no, I can’t eat that.”

“Of course you can eat. Come on, just try it. Besides, I have no one to talk to when you’re asleep; Janie went to church, to represent the family and keep us okay with the big guy upstairs.”

She looked at Bill, buoyant and cheery, carrying her again. What would she do without him?

He jumped up and brought her two aspirins, a glass of water, and her robe. Clad now in its comfy fleece, she walked with him into the living room. No one would have known they had had a big party last night. Between Bill and the caterers—no thanks to her—the place was perfect, the bouquets giving extra elegance. Bill had drawn closed the wide gauze curtains across the broad expanses of windows.

“It looks so nice and peaceful here, with the curtains closed,” murmured Louise. “Very womblike; just what I need.”

“I thought you wouldn’t be able to stand the light for a while. Now you sit down and we’ll eat.” He served the breakfast at the dining room table, complete with orange slices on each plate.

She picked at the eggs and situated her feet at the ready, in case she needed to rush to the bathroom.

Surprisingly the eggs slid right down and tasted delicious. She sipped a glass of milk he had brought her, then sampled the coffee. “You’ve saved me again.”

He smiled a little. “I knew you weren’t going to be a total loss.” He looked at his watch. “Although I didn’t figure you’d sleep this long—eleven-thirty.”

She looked at him quickly and then looked back at her plate. “I didn’t really get
that
drunk, did I? I mean, I don’t remember drinking that much.”

“You didn’t,” Bill assured her. “But somehow you didn’t eat anything, so everything you drank went to your head.” He sat back and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’d say, on a scale of one to ten, ten being stinkin’ drunk, you were seven
and a half—maybe eight.” He grinned. “You were actually kind of funny, and not too gross.”

“Oh, indeed,” she said, looking at him closely as if for the first time. Sometimes Bill thought he was so funny. “Tell me more.”

“You know. You kind of minced around, trying not to collide with large objects, and from what I heard, trying to make sense even though your head was probably spinning all to hell-and-gone.” He chuckled.

“Bill Eldridge, you’re just mean.” She drank her coffee and wouldn’t look at him.

He reached a hand over and put it on hers. “Okay, honey, I won’t tease you any more. The only one who even mentioned your condition was Eric. Said you were asking him nosy questions that implied he might be the mulch murderer—but I can’t believe you did that—or did you?”

She looked up at him silently, like a kid who’d been caught. “Can’t remember; I guess I must have.”

“Aw, Louise—”

“I know, he’s in your poker club. But last night, Mary and I were trying to check the men out. I won’t believe in anyone’s innocence until someone is proven guilty.”

“Hmm. I guess you have a point. Hope we have some men friends left afterward. Now, let me get you some more coffee, and then I want you to tell me what you and Peter Hoffman talked about.”

“Oh, him.” Through the mists of alcohol and dreamless sleep came the memory of Peter. The man she was supposed to analyze. “Since I was a little bombed, I was laboring under somewhat of a disadvantage.” She turned her mouth down
sardonically. “I guess I wasn’t in my top form as an observer.”

“You guys spent a lot of time eating dessert together in Janie’s bedroom, didn’t you? You must have talked about something.”

She looked at him. “I’ll tell you what I remember, if you’ll tell me what you and Nora were talking about during dinner.”

Bill looked pleased. “Oh, Nora and me? We had a great talk. She is
some
woman.”

Louise brushed a stray clump of hair out of her eyes. “I know she’s some woman. That’s what all you men think. I just want to know what you were talking about.” She cast an angled glance at her husband. “You looked like you were thick as thieves, and planning something … like a love tryst or something.”

“Oh, did we?” His slightly hooded eyes with their devilish glint belied his innocent mien. He grabbed Louise and pulled her up. “Let’s go sit on the couch and relax. First, you tell me what Peter had to say. Then I’ll reveal all about Nora.”

They settled on the couch. Louise began. “Let’s see, first, he seemed really interested in Janie, and wanted to know who Chris was. Then, let’s see, what
did
we talk about? Oh, I asked him about his appointment. And he told me he was very sharp about weaponry—invented them, et cetera.”

“Was he interesting? Did you like him? Would you trust him?”

Louise shook her head a little, as if remembering. “Oh, he was very kind, and actually kind of charming.” She looked at him without smiling. “There was one thing that bothered me
… oh, and he asked a couple of questions about finding the body in the yard.”

“Oh?” he said. “What did he ask?”

“Nothing much. Had it bothered us to be pestered by the police and the press; was there anything new that the detectives had found lately that I knew about …”

“Hmmm,” said Bill.

Louise grabbed Bill’s arm. “But there’s something I really didn’t like about him.” Her eyes widened. “There’s something about that man with Janie. He looked at her as
if
he wanted to devour her. And she was—what would you say,
captivated
by him, too. It really scared me.”

“What did he do?” He frowned with concern.

Louise shook her head. “Nothing you could put your finger on. It was just the way he looked at her, and touched her hair. Then he took his hand and tilted her chin up. It was very intrusive. You can bet I dragged her away in a hurry.”

Bill stared into space. “Interesting. But the guy charmed most everybody else. A number of our friends thought he was brilliant.”

She shivered. “I just wouldn’t want our daughters anywhere around him.”

“And I thought it was you he was coming on to.”

She looked at him and frowned. “You don’t think I can tell that? I know he was flirting with me, too. I know how to take care of myself, don’t think I don’t.”

He smiled and reached over and rubbed her back. “This is a new Louise Eldridge I seem to be living with. I like her. And now I suppose you want to hear about Nora and me.”

“It’s your turn.”

J
ANIE HAD FIRST FELT THE CRAMPS IN CHURCH
. She hoped the minister wouldn’t talk too long, and miraculously he didn’t. Now, walking home, the pains were getting sharper. She told herself she was not nauseated. Still three blocks to go. She made her steps into a glide so her lower stomach would not be jarred.

Last winter, just before she turned fifteen, was the first time it had happened. She thought she had appendicitis. But then the blood came, her first “period.”
A moment of mixed feelings, including pride in becoming a woman at last. Her mother told her that the first periods sometimes brought cramps but that later her body would adjust. Now, two blocks from home and feeling the pain increase, she slowed her step and thought wanly about a whole lifetime of months of bloody periods and sickening cramps.

When she got home her mother would give her a golden pill that worked like magic.

“Hey, you sure got up early!” Chris bounded across a woodsy yard, wearing jeans and jacket and clasping his basketball with expert long fingers, tossing it up in little spinning twists, then beating it rapid-fire a few times on the sidewalk. As if to say, here I am with my signature basketball. I know you like me.

She smiled but did not otherwise respond. He fell in step with her and looked at her curiously. “You look pale. What’s the matter? You don’t look nearly as good as you did last night. Maybe you should have slept in like I did.”