Murder by Yew (9 page)

“
What are you doing?” Nancy shouted as she bounded down the top four steps and grabbed Danny’s shoulders. She slapped at Edna’s hand. “Let him go!”

A man and woman, both about Tom’s age, came out of the house just then. “What’s the matter, Nan?” the woman asked.

“
This is Davy. He was calling her Davy. She’s the one who made Daddy sick. Now she’s trying to take my baby!” Nancy yelled, not taking her eyes off Edna. “Get out of here!” She hugged Danny to her as she shouted at Edna. “Leave him alone!”

“
You don’t understand …” Edna stammered, shocked at Nancy’s behavior.

The man, medium height with a stocky build and receding hairline, came down the steps. As he passed Nancy, she shouted, “Call the police.”

“
I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said, patting her shoulder as he continued down the stairs. He took Edna’s arm and turned her toward the street. “I think it would be best if you leave.”

“
But …”

“
You can see you’re upsetting her. It will be worse if the police have to come. Please leave.” His tone turned harsh and his eyes narrowed.

Edna jerked her arm from his grasp. Clutching her tote bag, she raced toward her car. She was mortified.

Ten

For the second night in a row, Edna slept badly. Tossing and turning, she couldn’t shake the feelings of frustration and humiliation. Danny had wanted to show her something, she knew it; but when she pictured the scene as objectively as she could, she could see why his mother might have believed that Edna was trying to pull Danny down the stairs. How could she convince anyone that she wasn’t Davy if she couldn’t get near Tom’s grandson?

By morning, her face still felt flushed, and her body burned hot and cold at the same time. She wanted to pull the covers over her head and stay there until Albert came home, but she couldn’t.

Saturday. Her art class would arrive after lunch to spend the afternoon sketching in her yard. She lowered the covers and turned to the window. Thick, black clouds covered the sky.
Oh, no.
“Not today,” she moaned aloud.

Reaching over to the bedside table, she turned on the radio to hear the weather forecast. As she listened to her favorite classical station, she slipped into a drowsy half sleep and missed most of the news but came fully awake in time to hear the bleak weather report. Rain and drizzle most of the day. Not expected to clear before evening.

She groaned and threw back the covers.
The furniture will have to be moved to fit nine easels into the living room, ten if Liz is going to paint,
she thought.
I’ll need some things for the class to work with—a basket of flowers or fruit and maybe one of my Phoenix glass vases. I’ll bring in a pot of aloe to sketch for my garden club presentation.
That final thought cheered her only slightly.

As she showered and dressed, Edna’s mind reeled with all she had yet to do that morning. She would have to get fresh fruit from the grocery store and and scour her gardens for blooms and grasses to fill at least one large urn. The class should have a variety of still lifes from which to choose, and she'd better hurry before the rain started.

She decided to go to the market first, hopefully arriving early enough to avoid meeting someone she knew. If she had ever thought of wearing a paper bag over her head, today was the day. Her cheeks warmed again at the thought of her mortification last evening.

By the time she returned from the store, having run into very few people and nobody she knew, a light drizzle was falling. She donned her mackintosh and a rain bonnet, pulled her translucent rubbers over her shoes, and went out to search the yard for anything she might use for a fall floral arrangement. As she moved about in the wet grass, she wondered whether she should simply call Liz and cancel the class.

No,
she decided firmly.
I am not going to start hiding behind my curtains.
She smiled wanly, picturing herself peeking furtively from behind lace drapes.
That would be as good as saying I did whatever the police suspect me of doing.

By the time she had gathered some asters and wild grasses and had dragged a couple of potted plants from the rock garden into the mudroom, she was damp and cold. Wavering again in her resolve, she trudged around the downstairs halfheartedly, wishing that she had not invited the class to her home. At the time, knowing Albert would be away, it seemed a good idea--and fun. Now, it was a task that weighed her shoulders down and stuffed her head with cotton. She sneezed.

I might be catching a cold,
she thought.
Maybe I’ll phone Liz and call it off. After all, it was supposed to have been an outdoor event, sketching the gardens or the house or whatever inspired the students. I’d have put refreshments out on the patio table and people could come and go as they pleased. Now, inside, everyone will be closer together, crowded in, much less casual. They’ll all be watching me.

Sitting at her desk and staring at the phone, she sneezed again, then shook herself mentally. What was the matter with her? She would not behave as if she were guilty. At that precise moment, the phone rang, causing her to jump. She grabbed it before it rang again. “Hello.” Even to her own ears, she sounded defensive.

“
Good morning, Edna.”

Liz! Maybe she was calling to cancel the class.

“
Hi, Liz.” Edna tried to sound more cheerful.

“
I'm calling to find out what you want to do about this afternoon.” The art instructor went on, as if she’d read Edna’s mind. “I know when you offered to host this event, we counted on good weather, but it looks like our beautiful Indian summer days are over.”

Oddly, when Liz offered her a way out, Edna’s determination returned. She reminded herself that to cancel now would probably be worse than going through with it. Had the visit by the police made her overly paranoid? Was she making a mountain out of a molehill? She thought back to her teens when she’d worn a blouse with a ripped seam beneath one arm. She knew it was there, and although she had been wearing a sweater over the blouse, she had a strong feeling everyone around her was aware of the tear.

Was that what she was doing now? Because she felt unreasonably guilty, was she supposing that everyone in town was whispering and pointing at her behind her back?

“
Edna?” Liz's voice broke into her thoughts.

“
We can still have the class here, if everyone's willing. If the rain doesn't stop, we can set up in the living room.” Edna went on to explain to her friend and instructor what she had planned and ended by saying, “We might be a bit crowded, but I think there'll be room for everyone.”

“
Wonderful. It’s settled then.” Liz sounded relieved. “I'll tell the others.”

Edna hung up and was pushing herself out of the chair when the phone rang again. This time it was Starling, her youngest child.

“
Hi, Mom. Dad home?”

Although she was thirty years old and part owner of a successful studio, Starling still seemed like a teenager to Edna.

“
No, honey. He's in Chicago this weekend.”

“
Oh, that's right. He's speaking at some sort of conference, isn't he?” After a slight pause, she said, almost as if to herself. “Darn. I wanted him to look at my car.”

“
What's wrong with it?” Edna asked, rising and heading for the kitchen as she spoke into the cordless instrument.

Starling snorted. “If I knew, I wouldn't have to ask Dad to look at it.”

“
You're right. Forget I asked.” Edna was annoyed that Starling had made her feel foolish. Whenever this child of hers was snappish, she knew it was because Starling either had too much on her mind or was deeply worried about something. Usually, Edna would jolly Starling out of a bad mood, but today was different. She was the one who needed a good dose of sympathy and understanding.

Obviously picking up on Edna’s tone, Starling said, “Hey, Mom. What's the matter? You sound down.”

If self-pity hadn’t interfered, Edna would have smiled. It was also typical of Starling to put aside her own feelings whenever she sensed someone else was troubled. Edna sat at the kitchen table and told her daughter about Tom's death, carefully leaving out the part about being questioned by the police.

“
I’m so sorry, Mother,” Starling commiserated. "I know you really liked him. Isn’t he the one who brought his grandson over sometimes?"

“
Yes, that was Tom.” Edna answered almost absently as an idea formed in her head. “Were you planning on coming down here for the weekend?”

“
Well, I was, but if Dad's not around …” This time, Starling paused, probably before saying something else that would hurt her mother’s feelings. “It’s not that I wouldn’t love to come see you, Mom, but my car’s been acting up. I have a big photo shoot Monday morning, and it would be disaster if I got stuck in Rhode Island.”

Disappointed, Edna considered an alternative. “What if I drive up to Boston? I'll take you to dinner tonight. Your choice, my treat.” She knew then a change of scene was what she needed. Or was she running away?

“
Cool.” Starling’s enthusiasm warmed Edna. “There's a new French restaurant not far from here. I've been dying to try it.” Her eagerness increased, making Edna smile. “Can you stay Sunday night, too? I'll get tickets to the cabaret … and we can have brunch at the Ritz. Why didn't we think of this before? We haven’t had a mother-daughter weekend in ages. When can you get here?”

Catching some of her daughter’s eagerness, Edna said, “I’m hosting my art class this afternoon, but I can probably leave by four. If the traffic isn't too bad, I should be at your apartment around five-thirty.”

“
Terrific. I'll make reservations for seven-ish,” Starling said. “We can have a drink here before we go. Oh, Mom, what a great idea. Oops, I’d better get this place cleaned up.”

Edna was laughing as she hung up the phone. She felt better as she started to prepare herb and cheese spreads for the afternoon's refreshments. As she was taking a jar of mustard out of the refrigerator, Benjamin strolled into the room and sauntered over to his water bowl. Although she knew he’d be fine in the house for two nights, on impulse she reached for the phone and dialed Mary's number.

“
I was wondering if you could take care of Benjamin this weekend.” Edna said after the preliminary greetings were over.

“
Sure. Want me to pick him up now?”

“
Oh, you don’t have to bring him to your house. He needs to be fed in the morning and let out. Put him in at night and feed him again. He’ll be fine. You know where his food is—cupboard in the mudroom, middle shelf—and there’s a spare key behind the wooden bench at the side of the house. It’s in one of those holders that looks like a rock.”

But Mary was at the back door within ten minutes to get detailed instructions on the care and feeding of Benjamin. The cat followed the two women around as if he understood what was going on and needed to supervise. Mary then helped move some of the living room furniture. When she was ready to leave, Edna gave her the spare key that was usually left outside in the rock garden. Albert insisted on the hiding place when they first moved in, since Edna had once locked herself out of their house years ago.

After Mary left, Edna set her easel up in the living room, slipping the picture of Tom to the back of her sketch pad. Several people in the class, including Liz, had known him. If the occasion arose, Edna would show the portrait to the instructor and get her opinion. Depending on if Liz thought it was good enough, maybe Edna would give the picture to Danny one day. Thinking of the boy and the events of last night made her cheeks burn again. She forced the images out of her head and went upstairs to pack an overnight bag, wanting to leave as soon as possible after class.

At twelve forty-five, Edna slipped her freshly laundered, off-white painting smock over a blue print blouse and navy wool slacks and was ready for her guests to arrive. She took a last look around the living room, pleased with her preparations, then went to the kitchen where several plates of tea sandwiches and toasted bread squares were prepared with homemade spreads. The triangles of herb bread with cream cheese and nasturtium petals were her particular favorite. Beside the food platters, cups and glasses were arranged on a tray that she carried into the dining room and set on the highly polished mahogany table next to a colorful fan of paper plates and napkins.

Class members were usually prompt, always eager to begin on time. At ten minutes past one, when nobody had arrived yet, Edna was pacing the kitchen floor. Occasionally, she’d stand at the sink and look out the wide window at the driveway to see if any cars were coming. Finally, at quarter past the hour, Liz’s green minivan turned in from the road.

Edna tried to look cheerful as she hurried to the door and opened it before the bell rang, but her smile froze when she saw only two women on the stoop. Tall and slender with long hair the color of corn silk, Liz Franken usually chauffeured at least two students when the class was held somewhere other than her own studio. Today, only Carol Lancell, not one of Liz’s usual passengers but a long-time friend, accompanied her. Standing slightly behind and a little to Liz’s right, Carol was short and tanned with a mass of close-cropped dark curls beneath a floppy, yellow foul-weather hat.

“
Where is everyone else?” Edna asked the question to which she feared she knew the answer.

Obviously uncomfortable, Liz looked down at the easel and paint box she was carrying. “Nobody else could make it.” She added faintly, “Weather, I guess.”

“
Bitsy the bitch. Pardon my French,” Carol mumbled, pushing past Liz and Edna. She apparently had been getting wet, standing behind Liz in the drizzling rain.

Edna knew who Carol meant. Bitsy Babcock poked her nose into everything. If she were a dog, she’d be a Border Collie, herding people and nipping at their heels until they obeyed her every command.

After Liz followed Carol into the front hall, giving Edna a feeble smile as she passed, Edna closed the door and turned to face them, not wanting to hear but afraid not to. Carol stared at Liz expectantly. When Liz refused to meet either woman’s eyes, Carol turned to Edna.