The Body in the Boudoir (14 page)

“When are they going to leave? And why isn't Sky here yet? Why hasn't he called?” Tammy sounded fretful. The lack of activity was getting to her.

Faith didn't have an answer to the second two questions, but she addressed the first. “I wouldn't count on their leaving anytime soon—and they'll be here tomorrow in the daylight. I'm sure if you want to go to bed in one of the guest rooms, that would be all right. I'll wake you when Uncle Sky arrives.”

“Bed!” she exploded. “That's the last place I want to be! Not until I can get my own room all cleaned up as if none of this had ever happened. I know I sound just like Scarlet—‘I'll think about this tomorrow'—wanting to put it all out of my mind, but it's obvious what happened. A burglar came in, panicked when he saw Danny, killed her so she couldn't identify him, and took off. As to what she was doing in my things, I cannot think and I certainly do not want to.”

She stuck her chin out and then lowered it. “Where the hell is Sky?” she said again. “And why hasn't he called?” She was wringing her hands. It was a gesture Faith had only read about in books and, oddly enough, it looked very natural. At least in this case.

At midnight they brought Danny down the staircase, zipped into a black body bag, and out the front door.

“Mrs. Walfort, would you mind coming up to your room? We'd like you to see if anything is out of place or missing.” It was the adolescent-looking cop. He seemed to have aged a bit over the course of the evening, to the point where he might be starting to shave.

Tammy grabbed Faith's arm. “You come, too. I don't want to go back there alone.”

“Is that all right?” Faith asked.

The officer looked slightly discomfited but said, “I don't see why not. Anyways, if it isn't, the chief will say something.”

Without the macabre figure at the dressing table, Tammy's boudoir looked much as it always did save for the black fingerprint powder everywhere and the number of people milling about wearing gloves. It wasn't a lurid scene. Perfect servant to the last, the towel Mrs. Danforth had wrapped around her head had kept her blood from splattering.

No one said anything about Faith's being there, and in any case, it would have been difficult to loosen the grip her aunt had on Faith's arm.

“Tammy,” the police chief said. “Anything out of place? Missing? Walk around in here and the bathroom. Sky's room, too.”

Right away Tammy pointed to her bed. “One of my Delorme pillowcases is gone!”

“Typically, thieves grab a pillowcase and fill it with whatever they spot,” Detective Willis said.

Tammy rushed over to her dressing table. “I left a few trinkets out, the good stuff is in the safe, I assume—we'd better check—or at the bank. Let's see. There were a couple of those Jean Schlumberger enamel bracelets—I couldn't decide whether to wear green or blue yesterday—and I'd taken out some blue topaz David Yurman earrings, which I left because I
did
wear green, but put the gold Schlumberger cuff bracelet on instead. What else? A Piaget watch, but an everyday one. Mikimoto pearls. I always leave a few different sizes of strands out. They go with everything. Oh, and an amusing little Kenneth Lane vintage butterfly brooch like the Duchess of Windsor wore.”

Both the chief's and the detective's faces registered bewilderment at the onslaught of names. Faith was struggling to keep something like bewilderment from hers. Trinkets! The Schlumberger bracelets started at $20,000 and went up from there. Either Tammy or Sky or both had a great deal more money than Faith realized.

“I think we can assume this was a break-in gone tragically wrong,” Chief Matt said ponderously. “Have a look around the other two rooms, although I think the thief panicked before he could go any further.”

The detective spoke in a speculative tone. “He may have only meant to knock the old woman out, stun her.”

“Have you found what was used to hit her?” Faith asked. Tammy was pawing through a bureau drawer.

“No. Whatever it was, he took it with him. We'll know more after the autopsy. More about the time, too. With the fire keeping the room so warm, we can't make a guess at the time of death.” He turned toward Tammy. “I know it's late, but we do need to ask for some more information, Mrs. Walfort.”

She wasn't listening. “Ha!” she said triumphantly. “They didn't get my charm bracelet! Daddy gave me a new charm on my birthday every year from the time I was five until I married Wade. See this little bride? Isn't she the cutest thing? Daddy gave it to me on my wedding day. I'd die if anything happened to this bracelet. That's why I keep it here.”

Faith had heard that thieves went straight for your underwear drawer after they'd emptied your jewelry box and from there to the toes of your shoes and the pockets of your bathrobe—the traditional “safe” hiding places all women employed if they didn't opt for the fridge's freezer. She wasn't surprised at Tammy's most precious possession. She'd had several friends who'd been robbed and their charm bracelets were lamented more than their diamonds by the yard, if they had them. But she was a bit surprised by Tammy's timing, but once again generously decided her aunt must be in shock—still. Plus, there was the bourbon. Meanwhile, her aunt was busy putting the bracelet on. Faith led her into the bath and Sky's room, where a quick look revealed nothing unusual except for the fact that Danny had apparently used up the last of Tammy's La Prairie bubble bath.

Back in the library, before Detective Willis came to ask the rest of his questions, Faith decided it was time for food and announced she was making omelets and coffee for them all. There was only so much a body could take.

T
he detective took them through their various arrivals and then asked whether there had been workmen at the house recently.

“Not just individuals who might have had occasion to enter the house, but window cleaners, for example. We broke up one ring when we realized that the break-ins—they were daytime break-ins—all occurred when it was raining and the thieves couldn't work at their other job.”

Tammy shook her head. “No, and everyone who's done work for us—the gardeners, the cleaners—have all been in our employ for years.”

“We'll still need to check them out. If you could make a list of names and get it to us tomorrow, we'll start right away,” he said. “The fact that the perp, or perps, knew to go directly to your room where you kept some jewelry indicates some familiarity with the home.”

“I've checked the safes,” Tammy said, “and nothing has been disturbed. There are two. A big old one in the butler's pantry, where we keep the silver, and one that Sky says I'm not supposed to mention the location of, where things not at the bank are kept.”

Detective Willis closed his notebook.

“Now we'll let you people get some rest. Do you have any idea when Mr. Walfort might be getting here?”

“It's an hour and a half drive, shorter this time of night. He should be here soon.” Tammy had called again and was told the message had been delivered two hours earlier. Mr. Walfort had been out to dinner.

“Chief Johnson and I will wait back upstairs for a while, then.” He left the room.

“I'm as tired as a mule, but I won't sleep a wink until Sky gets here.”

“I think I'll go stretch out on the couch in the living room,” Jane said. “Faith?”

“I'll stay here with Tammy.” She was slightly amused at Tammy's discretion regarding the location of the safe for valuables. She, Hope, and most likely the entire family knew it was behind a violently pink genre painting of cows grazing at sunrise, purchased at an estate sale by the Walfort who'd selected it for the express purpose of disguising the safe, which was in what had become a little-used guest room.

Schuyler Walfort arrived a half hour later, opening the front door with such force that it crashed against the wall. Faith ran to him.

“What's going on? Why are there police cars outside? Who's been hurt?”

“I'm afraid it's bad news, Uncle Sky.” She led him into the library. Tammy threw her arms around him.

“I'm so glad you're here! It's been a nightmare. Danny's been killed!”

Faith thought her uncle was going to pass out.

“Danny? You say Danny's dead? Danny?” He looked wildly about the room as if he expected her to appear. He pulled away from his wife. “Not Danny, noooo . . .” He began to sob uncontrollably. Jane came in from the living room.

“I'm so sorry, Sky.”

“It can't be Danny! Not Danny!” He collapsed against his niece and she was able to move him onto the couch. Tammy sat on his other side and took his hand.

“She didn't suffer, the police said. Faith found her. She was in my boudoir of all places, wearing—”

Faith interrupted her aunt. Now was not the time for this particular litany of grievances. She handed her mother a box of tissues from the adjoining half bath and Jane started dispensing them, murmuring words of comfort as Sky continued to give way to his overwhelming anguish.

The noise brought the police chief and the detective into the room.

“Don't you worry, Sky. We'll find the animal who did this,” Matt Johnson said. “Some hopped-up junkie looking for easy pickings. Your wife is giving us a list of what's missing, and we'll have it out to every pawnshop in the Northeast.” He was speaking rapidly, trying, it seemed, to stem the tsunami of grief. Sky wasn't bothering to use the tissues; the tears flowed unchecked.

“I don't care!” he wailed. “It won't bring her back!”

Faith looked at his face. It was the saddest she had ever seen.

B
y 5:00
A.M.
the police had left after taking everyone's fingerprints for elimination, and the business of death began. Sky asked Faith to call Mrs. Danforth's sister in Connecticut. He didn't think he could handle it. He called his own sisters and broke down all over again. He told them not to come out. Tammy had remarked that that was not going to happen and Faith had privately agreed. Jane had let her husband know and he was on his way. No one went to bed. Sky began toasting his beloved Danny with Laphroaig scotch, apparently her favorite tipple.

Taking Sky's address book, Faith went into the breakfast room to use that phone. A man answered. Faith apologized for the early call and asked for Gertrude Todd, the name next to the notation “Danny's sister” in the book.

“What's this about? I'm her husband. Gert's asleep.” He sounded irritated.

“I'm very sorry to tell you that her sister, Mabel Danforth, is dead. She was the housekeeper for my uncle—”

“Dead! What's that you say? Mabel's dead? Was it her heart?”

“No.” Faith took a deep breath. “She was murdered sometime yesterday. A burglar, we think. She was alone in the house at the time.”

“Murdered! My God! What am I going to tell my wife?”

Faith could hear the disbelief in his voice. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to people you knew, to relatives.

“She wouldn't have felt anything. He came up behind her—”

He interrupted again, “So the cops have the guy?”

“Not yet, but they're hoping to soon. Would you like me to talk to Mrs. Todd? Tell her? We were all so fond of her sister.”

“No, I'll tell her,” he said.

Before hanging up, Faith gave him The Cliff's phone number and the numbers the police chief and Detective Willis had left. She paused a moment and then dialed the number she'd been aching to call ever since she'd first walked into Tammy's room.

“Tom?”

“Hey, you. What are you doing up at this hour?”

Faith could picture his slightly teasing smile.

“Oh, Tom, something horrible has happened!”

She went on to describe the events of the night before and with difficulty restrained him from driving straight down, much as she wanted him by her side.

“What happens now? You'll be staying on?”

“Yes, for as long as they need me. And as for what comes next, I have no idea. Sky wants her buried in the family plot here. He says the Walforts were her family. She wasn't close to her sister, her only sibling, and there are no nieces or nephews.”

“Was there a Mr. Danforth?”

“That's a good question. I have a feeling not, or if there was, the marriage ended a long time ago.”

They talked some more. Tom kept insisting on coming down, but Faith said there really wasn't anything he could do other than hold her hand, which would be lovely, but she'd be trying to comfort her uncle and keep people fed. The last thought reminded her of another.

“I almost forgot. I have to call the caterers and cancel the tasting. Mother and I are supposed to go there at noon. I'm afraid the wedding is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“The wedding, but not getting married.”

“No, dearest Tom, not getting married.”

F
aith's grandmother Eleanor and her sister, Frances, arrived late in the morning. Like their brother, both women were tall, and age had not caused either spine to bend, literally and figuratively. Eleanor was slender; Frances, the eldest, was a different story. All her life she had been what was referred to as “broad in the beam” and she had the shoulders of a linebacker. She wore her hair, white as snow, in a plump bun. With a slight change in period dress, she could have assumed the role of Wilde's Lady Bracknell. And it was the voice so like the character that announced her presence.

“Where's Schuyler? Where is the man? Prostrate with grief, I imagine, and of course we're all terribly sad, but how on earth did Danny manage to get herself murdered?”

“I don't think she had much of a choice,” her sister said dryly. “And yes, where is our brother?”

“Tammy called their doctor and told him what had occurred. He came by and gave Uncle Sky a mild sedative. He's sleeping now.”