Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens (22 page)

“Looks like it’s stopped raining,” I said.

“Yeah. Well, good night. Get some rest.”

“You, too. You’re not made of steel, you know.”

“Says who?” He grinned, putting on his helmet. “I’ll call you.”

“Good night.”

I watched him walk out to his bike. He coasted it down the gravel driveway to the street before starting the engine. Considerate of him.

He did that a lot; surprised me by an act of courtesy or an elegant turn of phrase just when I figured he was in total cop mode. I wondered if that was his nature, or if he was making extra effort for my sake.

I went back to the kitchen, put the rest of my malt in the freezer, tidied up the table, and turned out the light. I was on my way to the stairs when the piano began.

“Contessa, perdono.” I recognized it now.

An expression of condolence? Or an actual apology?

I couldn’t think why Captain Dusenberry would need to apologize to me. I walked down the hall to the main parlor and turned on the light.

The piano was closed. The music continued to the end of the phrase.

“How are you doing that?” I said aloud. “Are you plucking the strings?”

It was just the melody line, though it sounded more confident now than it had previously. Maybe he’d been practicing.

I moved the ornaments off the lid and opened the sound box again. Turning my ear toward the strings, I could just sense a latent vibration.

It was real. I had not imagined the music. I wasn’t the only one who had heard it. Vi—

Oh, Vi.

I sat in the nearest chair and gave one gusty sob. I didn’t want to cry any more; I was tired. I took a few deep breaths.

“Damn it.”

The piano played a single, low note—a C, I thought. I got up and looked in the sound box, and saw one hammer settling back into place.

So that was how he did it. He was hitting the hammers, one by one. Like hunt and peck typing. How, I had no clue. Maybe Willow Lane could explain it.

What did low C mean? It was the ultimate tonic.

Tonic. As in restorative?

I was too sad to smile, but I wondered if Captain Dusenberry was a punster. Or maybe a C, the tonic, the foundation of the most basic scale, was meant to indicate agreement. Either way, I did find it strangely comforting.

~

I confess, I resorted to a sleeping pill. Actually an eighth of an over-the-counter pill; anything more would have me dragging all the next morning. I didn’t like drugging myself to sleep, but my thoughts would have haunted me if I hadn’t shut them up. I had learned that the hard way when my father died.

I woke feeling sad but reasonably refreshed. A faint smell of coffee reached me; it was coming through the window in my sitting area, which I’d forgotten was cracked open. I pulled on my robe against the morning chill and hurried to investigate how much rain had come in, and whether I needed to do emergency cleanup.

The wind must have been from the north, because there wasn’t a mess of water under the window. The sill was slightly damp, but that would soon dry. Already the sun was shining on an ironically cheerful morning.

I put on a plain gray dress and went downstairs, said hello to Julio and Ramon, and stepped out into my garden with my clippers, gloves, and an empty vase. It was really an excuse to walk among the flowers: “the sweetness of the wet garden.” I cut a few roses and lilies, and paused to smell each bush, though the rain had carried away a good deal of scent. The most fragrant roses were up and running, though.

I lingered for half an hour, making a mental list of little garden chores that needed attention. The violets were putting out more blossoms.

I paused, closing my eyes. Vi had been more than an employee. She was a friend. I’d known her less than a year, but it still hurt like hell to think she was gone. It was just so wrong.

And by damn, if there was anything I could do to help catch her killer, I’d do it.

I bent down and clipped a few violets, then went inside and found a tiny vase for them. The larger vase I left on my credenza while I brought the violets to my desk.

I fired up my computer and checked the website of my preferred local news station. As I’d feared, they had found the story. ANOTHER DEATH AT SANTA FE OPERA blared at the top of the screen. There was even a sidebar story: “Curse of
Tosca
?” Mr. Ingraham would have kittens.

I skimmed the lead story. They mentioned no names, but they did say the victim was one of the apprentices.

I’d have to talk to my staff.

I texted Tony:

OK TO TELL MY STAFF ABOUT VI? STORY IS ON THE NEWS.

Even if I didn’t tell them they’d probably guess. I just wanted to give them some closure.

I poked through my message slips until my phone buzzed with Tony’s answering text:

YES.

I went down to the kitchen and wrote on the whiteboard beside the time clock: STAFF MEETING MAIN PARLOR 10:30 a.m. Julio and Ramon were the only ones in at the moment, so I told them about the meeting, then went up front to the gift shop to collect the previous day’s receipts, which I’d forgotten to take upstairs overnight. Fortunately, Nat had locked the cash drawer, and when I opened it I saw that she had already set it up for the new day, with the checks, charge slips, and extra cash in the bank bag.

Heaping silent blessings on my aunt’s head, I took the bag upstairs and wrote up the deposit. It was, I knew, a way of avoiding my messages, which I didn’t feel like answering. I’d have been happy to spend the day in hermit mode, but I’d been mostly useless the day before and I needed to reassure my staff that I was still functional. Sort of.

When the deposit was done I locked it in Kris’s desk, then I made a pot of tea (yes, more procrastination), and finally sat down at my desk. I sorted the messages into “answer now,” “later,” and “delegate” piles, then glanced at the clock—8:52—before starting in on “answer now.”

Top priority was Mr. Ingraham. I braced myself for a conversation about Vi, but either he hadn’t heard or he was being particularly considerate. He said everything that was kind and polite, wished me well with my busy week and hoped that he’d be able to welcome me to his home on another occasion. Truly the gentleman.

I got through two more messages before Kris came in. By the expression on her face, it was clear that she’d heard the news, and reached her own conclusions.

“I hope Usher doesn’t cancel,” she said.

“We can’t be surprised if she does.”

“I’d better put everything on hold.” Kris helped herself to tea, then went into her office.

I returned to my messages, calling people I didn’t really want to talk to and listening politely to their ideas and concerns. Only one of them mentioned the opera story, and let it drop when I responded noncommittally.

By the time I got through all the “answer nows,” it was quarter to ten. I replenished my tea and made a few notes to help me through the staff meeting. It wouldn’t be fun, but at least I wouldn’t stand there stupidly. At quarter after, I went across to my suite for two clean handkerchiefs, then headed downstairs.

Everyone was in the tearoom except for Dee and Mick, who wouldn’t arrive until the afternoon. I went into the main parlor and Nat joined me there. I noticed the shawl on the piano was askew and stepped up to adjust it.

“Have you been playing the piano?”

“N-no. Why?”

Nat shrugged. “I know you used to play it a lot when you were troubled.”

“Yeah, I did. Haven’t had much time lately.”

I’d have to take some time to play, after hours. It would probably feel good.

The staff began to gather. Iz looked at me intently as she entered, then sat in one of the farthest chairs. Rosa came in with Ramon, who whispered to her as they took seats. Kris came in last, phone in hand, while Julio hung in the doorway.

That was everyone. Time to bite the bullet. I stepped forward.

“Thank you, all. Some of you may have heard that another death occurred at the Santa Fe Opera yesterday. I’m very sorry to tell you that it appears to be Vi Benning.”

A small sound drew my attention to where Iz sat. I glanced that way, but she was staring at the floor, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“The police are investigating her death. Not much is known so far.” I cleared my throat, which was threatening to close. “Vi was more than a friend. She was part of the tearoom. I’m sure you all feel this loss, as do I. We’ll always remember her.”

The words were inadequate. There would never be adequate words. Blinking, I swallowed.

“If anyone needs some time off, or would like to arrange for some counseling, please come see me in my office. Thank you.”

They dispersed. Nat gave my shoulder a squeeze, then went off to tag new merchandise in the gift shop.

“Can I talk to you when you come up?” Kris said.

“Sure. Be there in a minute.”

She went out, leaving me alone with Iz, who still huddled in a wing chair. I went over to her and sat in the matching chair beside her.

“Iz?”

“It’s not fair,” she said in a low, angry voice.

“No, it isn’t.”

“She helped me….”

Iz had always been quiet, almost too shy. Vi had been her opposite, vivacious and outgoing, but she had taken pains to include in the tearoom’s early days Iz and had won her affection. She had made it easier for Iz to adjust to her job, and made her feel important and valued.

Rosa and Ramon hadn’t yet been hired then. Dee and Mick had. I’d have to deal with their reactions later.

I laid my hand over Iz’s. She gulped out an angry sob. I considered giving her a hug, but Iz was quite a private person and I didn’t want to overstep her comfort zone. Instead, I gave her one of my handkerchiefs.

“Do you want to go home? We can probably manage…”

“No. I’ll do my job.” She wiped defiantly at her nose.

“All right. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

I stood and turned to go. Iz caught my hand, stopping me.

“Thank you, Ellen,” she said.

“Thank you for being willing to stay.” I squeezed her hand, and she let me go. I left her to collect herself in private.

Rosa was in the pantry setting up trays for the first arrivals. The smell of scones baking pervaded the atmosphere. I offered to help but she shook her head.

“It’s fine. Thanks, but I’ll be OK.”

“Look after Iz, all right? She and Vi were close.”

“I will,” Rosa said.

I went into the kitchen. Julio was beating something in a large bowl, scowling. Ramon was at the prep table laying out sandwiches for trimming. I watched them both for a minute.

Julio and Vi had been especially close, and I was a little worried about him. He tended to bury stuff that bothered him instead of letting it out.

I resolved to talk to Kris about getting a counselor in for the next day. One day wouldn’t solve long-term grief, but it could get us started in the right direction.

I went upstairs, to be greeted by Kris. She invited me into her office with a gesture. I grabbed some tea and joined her.

“I’m getting calls from the media,” she said.

I boggled, then understood. “Because she worked here.”

Kris nodded. “Do you want to be interviewed?”

“No!” I put my cup and saucer on Kris’s desk and pressed my hands to my eyes.

If my friend Gina had been there, she’d have told me I was crazy. Passing up a chance to get the tearoom mentioned on state-wide TV?

Except we already had more business than we could handle. And I couldn’t—I just couldn’t face reporters right now.

I took a deep breath, picked up my cup, and swallowed some tea.

“Shall I prepare a statement to give them?” Kris said.

“Yes. That’s a great idea. We should say how saddened we are, how much we’ll miss Vi … are they saying she’s dead? Do they know it’s her?”

“I don’t think the police have confirmed it, but it sounds like someone has been counting heads and come up with Vi as the one who’s missing.”

“All right—let’s do two statements. One that’s non-committal and says we love Vi, and the other expressing our sadness, our shock…”

“I’ll bring you a draft of each.”

“Thank you. Anything else?”

She tilted her head. “How do you know it’s Vi?”

I closed my eyes briefly. “I glimpsed the body. The clothes were black and violet. And Tony Aragón confirmed it was Vi last night, but I don’t think we should spread the word on that.”

Kris nodded.

“When you have time, would you look into getting a grief counselor to come in and be available to the staff tomorrow? Say, from ten to two?”

“I’ll make some calls.”

“Thanks, Kris.” I stood, picked up my tea, and headed for my office.

“Hey, Ellen?”

I turned in the doorway. Kris’s hands were clasped in front of her on her desk.

“Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I know you really liked Vi.”

“Thank you. I’d be sad to lose anyone—you’re all very important to me, as friends, not just as staff.”

She smiled briefly, then turned to her computer. I returned to my desk, feeling low. I could hear the quiet murmur of Kris’s voice as she spoke on the phone. I brought up some classical music on web-based radio to give myself some separation.

I glanced through my stack of “later” messages, but wasn’t up to making calls just then. I started sorting out the “delegate” slips, making notes on each one for the lucky person who was going to get to deal with it. Mostly that was Kris, but some were going to Julio and a couple to Dee, who had been handling a lot of the purchasing for the gift shop.

Eleven o’clock came and went; the tearoom was open. I stayed upstairs, which was chickening out in a way, but I was feeling fragile. If there was an emergency downstairs I’d hear about it. Nat would come fetch me if anyone melted down.

I didn’t answer my own phone, though I kept an eye on it in case Tony called. It didn’t surprise me that he didn’t. He now had two murder cases to cope with, and was probably going nuts trying to figure out how they were connected.

I didn’t think for a minute that they weren’t, or that Vi’s death wasn’t murder. I hoped Tony was finding helpful evidence.