Requiem Murder [Book 2 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries] (13 page)

Marcie looked up at him. “She'll make me quit my lessons."

"She won't. She's had too much excitement and too much to drink today. She's your mother. She'd never hurt you."

She pulled away. “Why does everyone protect her? You. Dad. You don't know what she's like."

"Marcie,” I said. “There's something I'd like to tell you."

Roger retreated to the steps. She clutched his shirtsleeve. “Stay."

He bent and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. As he passed me he patted my arm. “Do what you can to calm her."

Marcie's eyes were tear-swollen. The side of her face where Judith's blow had landed was red and I feared by tomorrow there'd be a bruise. I stepped into the bathroom and wet a washcloth with cold water. “Put this on your face. Later, you might want to get some ice."

She looked at me. “I hate her. I wish she was dead."

"I know. It's all right to feel that way. Her actions were completely wrong. Has she ever hit you before?"

She shook her head. “Never."

"Don't worry about college. The money will be there."

"That's not what I'm afraid of. I can play at a church or give lessons. How can I live with her? She's crazy."

Though I agreed, I didn't tell Marcie. “People like your mother are jealous of those who are talented. She had a dream when she was young but she didn't go after what she wanted. Some people can't stand to see another succeed when they've failed. They attack and they hurt."

Her eyes widened. “That's exactly what she does. You saw her in the kitchen. She's always screaming things at me, but that's the first time she got physical."

That was a relief. “I wish there was some way you could leave."

"That's hard when you're just a kid. She's never heard of privacy. She snoops, even reads my diary, so now, I just make up dumb stuff.” She gulped a breath. “Why can she hurt me again and again and no one does anything? I've thought about reporting her but who'd believe me?"

Marcie was probably right. Judith's position in the community and Martin's refusal to believe his wife would do anything wrong would play a factor. Since this was the first time there'd been physical action, I wasn't sure anything would be done.

There were foster homes and some of the ones I've seen wouldn't provide Marcie the things she needed. Marcie lived for music. The system seldom provides for special talents. That was up to the individual foster family, not something the county would provide.

"Let me think about this and try to find a solution. Now, why don't you get ready for bed?"

She hugged me. “I'll be all right tonight. At the rate she's drinking, she'll pass out. Thanks for everything and I'll come by soon so we can talk."

"Good dreams."

She tried to smile but tears filled her eyes. “I'm not sure I want to sleep.” As she closed the door, she spoke softly. “If she was dead...” The door closed.

I started to knock on the door. Then I shook my head. She was angry and hurt but she wouldn't act on her anger. I was sure of that.

Lars waited for me at the foot of the stairs. “What was that all about?"

"Tell you later. Where's Judith? I need to ask her several questions.” Something Martin had said in the kitchen had tickled my curiosity about Judith's brother. The answers might lead to a way to help Marcie.

"She's gone. When Roger came down, she pounced and dragged him off for a walk.” He shook his head. “I've never seen so many people pretending they're having fun. Edward and Laura left before Judith's outburst and the innocence went with him."

I knew what he meant. When Edward attends an affair, all is surface and sweet though often trouble rumbles deep.

"Then I need to see Martin. Why don't you fill a plate with an assortment of desserts and we'll take them home?"

His eyes twinkled. “Sounds good. That way no one will know how much we eat."

I backed into someone and turned. Pete grabbed my arm.

"Careful, Mrs. M. Don't want any more broken bones. Beth and I are leaving.” He shook his head. “This has been an interesting evening."

"Always."

"Is Marcie all right?” Beth asked.

"For tonight. She went to bed."

Beth sighed. “I wish there was something I could do. She's a good kid. What happened?"

"This isn't the time or place.” A number of people stood nearby.

Beth put on her coat. “You're right. Tomorrow, maybe."

She and Pete headed to the door. I went to the kitchen. Martin sat at the table with a glass in his hand.

He looked up. “Is she all right?"

"Marcie? For now, but you have to do something before Judith destroys her."

"What can I do? I love my wife and I love my daughter.” His gaze slid past me. “A mother should be proud of her daughter...She has to be...It's only right... She loves me...She has to."

When I saw his concern was for himself and Judith, I left. Roger strode into the dining room. The look on his face was that of a man who'd seen something that both frightened and fascinated. He nodded to me, walked to the bar and poured a drink.

Lars waited in the hall. “Ready?"

"Very.” I reached for my coat. A gasp escaped. Judith was sprawled on the steps. At first I thought she was dead. Then I touched her wrist and realized she'd passed out.

"Should I carry her upstairs?” Lars asked.

"Let Martin see to her."

Lars opened the door. Once we were in the car, he spoke. “Promise me you'll stay out of the Simpson's affairs."

"I intend to do just that."

"Good. I don't want anything to happen to you while I'm away."

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Monday was spent in recovering from the exertions of the Evensong and the aftermath. I consumed at least a gallon of mint tea and spent hours sitting in the window seat staring at the river and stroking Robespierre. He seemed to sense my uneasiness and only left my side once during the day.

Mulling over the scene at the Simpsons probably raised my blood pressure ten points. Not that I'm in danger of a stroke. I suffer from hypo, not hypertension.

Before I decided how to act, I had to know what had set Judith off. I'm sure she wouldn't tell me. The few crumbs of information I'd gleaned had told me little.

My fears centered around Marcie. Though on the day of her first organ lesson, I had cautioned her about confronting her mother, the child had been emotionally battered too often. I wasn't sure she'd heard what I said.

Lars came to dinner. His presence brought comfort. We avoided any mention of the Simpsons, St. Stephen's and Roger. He invited me again to come with him and once again, I refused.

On Tuesday I drove him to the airport. This was not one of my favorite trips, but has become less hectic since I discovered an alternate route home. This route didn't have me mentally biting my fingernails for fear of missing a turn and ending up on the George Washington Bridge bound for New York City. That had happened once.

Since we'd left at the time I usually take my walk, late that afternoon, I decided to walk uptown and do some Christmas shopping.

The air was cold but the sky was bright and cloudless. One of those late fall days that make you think of summer until you step outside.

At the corner, I met Martin. “Early dismissal?"

He teaches English at the local high school and once a month, the students are let out early. He didn't look like he'd been to school. A stubble covered his chin and he looked drained.

"Personal day. Judith's been sick for the past two days."

"Too much Evensong party?"

He shook his head. “That's what I thought yesterday but today she's complaining about sharp pains in her head and her eyes are sensitive to light."

"So you stayed home."

"Someone had to. Marcie couldn't miss school. I couldn't leave Judith alone, not when she's sick. She rarely misses a day of work and she tried to hide this from me. I was getting ready for work when one of the librarians called to ask if she'd be in today. I didn't know she was out yesterday."

"Has she seen a doctor? Headaches can be the sign of a serious problem."

As we crossed the street he took my arm. “She has a real distaste for doctors. Her father was one, and he never approved of anything she did. Wanted her to be a secretary, a teacher or a nurse and forced her to give up her dreams. She was never right and her three brothers never wrong."

"Are her brothers doctors?"

"One is. The other's an engineer."

"And the third?"

"He's the one who died but I think he was studying architecture. He died when he when he was in college. Some kind of accident. Judith seldom talks about her family. She's not close to them."

We continued the walk in silence. Speculations flowed in my thoughts. Was her dead brother the one who'd stolen her dreams? Was he the one who'd hurt her? How had he died? Maybe her father had been the one. I didn't think I'd ever learn the answers, certainly not from Judith or Martin.

"Why did you leave Judith now?"

"I have to hit the drugstore.” He shook his head. “I could have sworn we had a bottle of pain relievers, but when Judith went for some she found the bottle empty. I wanted to wait until Marcie came home from her voice lesson but you know how impatient Judith can be when she wants something."

And how eager he was to please her. “I thought Judith ordered her to cancel her lessons with Roger."

"She never said that."

"Not in those words, but you were in the kitchen when your wife exploded. And all because Marcie dared criticize her voice."

He shook his head. “It wasn't like that. Marcie was upset because she had to stay home and prepare for the party. She insulted her mother and then accused her of something that didn't happen."

"Judith was out of line."

"She has no tolerance for criticism. That's all she heard when she was growing up."

"But she's an adult and she pushed Marcie into what the child said. Then she hit her."

He didn't meet my gaze. “Marcie deserved that slap. A mother has a right to discipline a child who lies. Judith has never been alone with Roger."

Any further comments on my part remained unspoken. I'd heard Judith tell Roger that Martin was away. Another thought struck me. Marcie's evaluation of her mother's voice hadn't been what had angered Judith. What she'd said about Judith and Roger had. Martin's ready defense of his wife meant he wasn't ready to listen.

How much did Martin remember about Sunday and Judith's behavior? Had he deliberately forgotten or had his wife put a different slant on the scene? I thought of the desperation in his voice when he'd tried to assure himself of her love.

We reached the Main Street corner. Martin left me and headed for the drugstore. I entered the bookstore to headed for the children's section to look for Christmas presents for Sarah's gang. Though I wanted no more involvement with the Simpsons, I couldn't abandon Marcie.

When I finished my purchases, instead of going home, I continued up the street toward the Gulliver Apartments. I needed to tell Roger I'd not be available for Passion Sunday and to talk to him about his relationship with Judith and Marcie. Though I could have called, I preferred a face to face meeting.

He needed to be told about the trouble he'd caused and I wanted to know if his actions had been deliberate. With someone as unstable as Judith, games could prove dangerous.

When I reached the block where the apartment complex was located, I saw Marcie across the street. She ran with long strides, lowered head and bookbag hitting her back.

"Marcie."

She didn't stop. Either she hadn't heard my call or she'd ignored it.

I watched until she was a block away. Then I continued on my way. When I was almost to the apartment door, I heard the squeal of brakes and turned. What was Judith doing here?

She jumped from the car. “You!"

Her tone and narrowed eyes reminded me of out encounter in her office at the library. My shoulders tensed and my heart fluttered.

"Hello, Judith."

"What are you doing here?"

"Since I was uptown, I decided to stop and visit Roger. You must feel better. Martin and I walked uptown together. He said you were ill."

She looked every one of her forty plus years. Her haggard face bore none of her usual carefully applied make-up.

"Martin believes what he wants to believe. He thinks I'm sick. That's what he'd like me to be."

She stumbled on an elevated bit of sidewalk. I caught her arm and steadied her. Alcohol laden breath caught me in the face.

"Are you sure you should be out? If you're sick —"

Her laughter cut off my words. “Good old Martin. He stayed home from work today, not because I'm sick, but to keep me a prisoner. I fooled him. I flushed the pills down the toilet. So of course, he had to rush off for more."

I backed away. “Why did you do that?"

"Do you think I stayed home from work for some silly reason? We had a plan. We were going to spend today together.” She straightened. “What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to Roger."

"Is Marcie still with him?” She waved her hand toward the apartments. “She'd better not be. She sneaked off to be with him but I caught her. She'll be sorry."

"She left a few minutes ago. You must have passed her. She looked upset."

"She should be. I told her to cancel her lessons and never see him again. She disobeyed but I caught her when I called to let him know I was coming, he said he was in the middle of a lesson. I knew this was her time so I demanded to speak to her. She said Martin gave her permission. He wouldn't do that. He does what I tell him. So does Roger. Look at the way he dropped dear Beth."

"Then I guess he sent Marcie home."

She leaned against the wall that edged the walk. “She wants to take him away from me. He wants to make me jealous. He's always making up to the girls. But Marcie? Who could be jealous of her? She's not even pretty. I am. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, Judith."

"I'm leaving Martin. He drags me down. Roger wants me."