The Gladstone Bag (9 page)

Sandy had appeared in the door of the dining room. She’d changed into a fresh pink cotton dress and tied her snakes’ nest into a net, Emma was relieved to notice.

“Bubbles says would you please come to the table now, Mrs. Kelling?”

“Thank you, Sandy. Shall we go in, everyone?”

Emma took her place at the head as a matter of course. Count Radunov pulled out her chair with a lovely bow, and she awarded him the place of honor at her right, putting Mrs. Fath next and the agreeable young Black John Sendick at the end. With Groot on her left and Lisbet Quainley next to him, she’d have her table balanced after all, assuming Wont showed up to take his place beside Miss Quainley.

Bernice appeared with two soup plates, sliding one foot carefully after the other and sticking out the tip of her tongue as an aid to balance. She was setting the first bowl in front of Emma with an air of triumphant relief when Wont lurched in and slumped without apology into the vacant seat.

He’d made no effort to clean himself up; he still wore the wilted shirt and too-tight jeans he’d sweated into during the ferry ride. Emma was grateful she’d given him the end seat. Too bad for Miss Quainley, but perhaps artists didn’t mind so much. She gave Wont a cool nod and went on chatting with Count Radunov. Sandy came in with two more plates of bisque, more confidently than Bernice, thank goodness; then she brought two more and Bernice shuffled in with the last one, which she gave to Wont. He glared down at it and demanded loudly, “What’s this stuff?”

“It’s perfectly beautiful lobster bisque,” Lisbet Quainley told him in an embarrassed half-whisper.

“I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“Ev, you are not! You ate two lobster rolls when we stopped on the way up and they didn’t bother you one bit.”

“That was different.”

“Sandy,” said Emma, quite out of patience, “take away Dr. Wont’s plate and bring him a glass of tomato juice. If any of you have other dietary problems you’ve neglected to mention, please tell me now so that I can speak to the cook in the morning.”

Nobody did. Even Wont was momentarily silenced. He did rally enough to make a point of not drinking his tomato juice, but everybody else made a point of not noticing, so he went back to silent glowering. Emma noticed a bit later, however, that he took a double helping of chicken.

Radunov told a funny story about a grand duchess of his acquaintance. Black John Sendick capped it with one about his mother’s cat, who sounded a lot like the duchess. Emma joked about her jewel robbery on the ferryboat, partly to keep the conversation moving but mainly to let everyone present know she’d brought nothing worth stealing.

She said nothing about being drugged. That was hardly amusing; besides, she still wasn’t certain it had actually happened. She did notice Alding Fath giving her a couple of curious looks, though. If the woman was as psychic as she cracked herself up to be, Emma thought crossly, why didn’t she finish the tale herself?

Mrs. Fath nodded as if she knew perfectly well what Emma was thinking and found it reasonable enough. “Oh my, yes,” she said. “Lots of jewelry around here.”

“What do you mean?” Lisbet Quainley was straining over the table, squinting through the candlelight, her voice quick and sharp. “Are you picking up anything about the treasure?”

“I’m picking up something, I can’t tell what. Awful thick ether, too many cross-currents. Black and white, that’s all I’m getting. Black and white.”

“Black and white, huh?” Joris Groot wasn’t looking at the dumpy seeress beside him. His light blue eyes were fixed on the candle flames. “Footsy-Wootsy put out a line of black-and-white spectators this year. They offered ’em in purple and white too, but the purple didn’t sell. That can’t be what Alding’s talking about, can it? Black and white and cross-currents. Know what that makes me think of, John? Those big rocks sticking out of the water over at that place we walked to. Shiny black with the waves all swirling around them and those big white sea gulls sitting on top.”

“Splashing their pretty white calling cards all over the rocks.” Black John was amused.

Lisbet Quainley took umbrage. “Guano is not pretty! It’s stark, lifeless, but not worthless. The end of the cycle and the beginning.”

“That’s right, Liz. In one end and out the other.”

“Oh, shut up! Can’t you see the symbolism? Life, death, fertility.”

“Fertilizer,” Black John corrected.

“Riches, you jerk! Riches from the earth. Ev, that’s it! That’s what we need for your book jacket.”

Wont blinked. “Bird shit?”

This was almost certainly the first time that word had ever been used around Adelaide Sabine’s table, Emma thought. Could she possibly keep her face straight?

Not with Count Radunov murmuring in her ear, “Miss Quainley is right. How deliciously appropriate!”

“Stop it, you dreadful man,” Emma murmured behind her napkin. “I’m in agony.”

She could have laughed, it wouldn’t have mattered. The others were all too absorbed in the psychic to notice their elders misbehaving.

“So okay, Alding,” Groot was coaxing. “What’s in the water?”

“Water, yes. Water all around. Lots of water.”

“She’s right, you know.” Another aside from Radunov. Emma committed the gross impropriety of kicking him lightly on the ankle.

Alding Fath was droning on, her face a perfect blank. “Shining stones coming out of the water. Black and white around the stones. And the dead in the water.”

“The Spanish sailors!” Lisbet Quainley was fairly bouncing in her chair by now.

Sandy and Bernice, Emma noticed, were as enthralled as the artist. They’d come in to clear away the main course, but were standing spellbound by the buffet, their eyes popping out of their heads. Joris Groot was beaming.

“Well, there you are, Ev. Just wait till low tide, wade out in the mudflats, and dig up the swag.”

Everard Wont reared up to make the most of his height and sneered down the whole length of his nose. “If it were that easy, Joris, I’m sure the treasure would have been found long ago. We’re going to need diving equipment, dredges, air hoses, a boat—where’s that caretaker? I want him now.”

Emma turned to the two young maids. “Clear the table, girls. Sandy, if your father’s not too busy, would you ask him to step into the dining room?”

“Yes’m.”

Realizing they weren’t getting paid to stand there eavesdropping, the two youngsters whizzed around the table grabbing up plates and silver and running to the kitchen. Before the swinging door had time to flap, they were back and Vincent was with them.

“You want me, Mrs. Kelling?”

Before she could answer, Everard Wont cut in. “I want you. I’m going to require the exclusive use of the boat until further notice. Where is it?”

“Depends on what boat you’re talking about.”

“I’ll decide that when I see them. Where’s the boathouse?”

“’Bout two miles from here, on the mainland, closest one I know of.”

“Then where do you keep the boats?” Wont was almost screaming now. Vincent was taking it calmly.

“No boats.”

“What do you mean, no boats?”

“I believe he means that there are no boats on the island or that guests aren’t permitted to use them,” Emma put in. “Am I right, Vincent?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Kelling. We had too many people that wasn’t s’posed to takin’ out our boats an’ gettin’ in trouble ’cause they didn’t know how to use ’em. So Mrs. Sabine told me to get rid of ’em, which I did. My two oldest boys swing by every mornin’ with the mail an’ whatever we need. Anybody needs to be picked up, we notify the ferry. That’s how it’s been, last ten years or so.”

“But I can’t work without a boat!” Wont really was screaming now.

“Might charter one.” Vincent was getting a speculative gleam in his eye. “Cost you somethin’.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred a day, more or less.”

“Ridiculous!”

“Whatever you say. You want me any more, Mrs. Kelling?”

“Not just now, Vincent. When your sons come tomorrow morning, perhaps you’d be good enough to ask them who has a charter boat available and what the charge might be. In the meantime, Dr. Wont can be thinking of alternative possibilities. Please tell Bubbles the bisque was superb. I’ll be out myself in a little while. What do we have for dessert, Sandy?”

“Lemon sponge pudding, and I’m s’posed to ask how many want whipped cream on it.”

“Just bring the cream and pass it around.”

“Hey, good thinking, Mrs. Kelling.”

Sandy darted off behind her father, and Emma finally got to have her laugh. “Those adorable children! I can see we’re going to have a lively summer. Dr. Wont, if those rocks are close to shore, why couldn’t you anchor a raft out there and work from that?”

“And where am I supposed to get a raft?”

“Build it, I should think. There must be some expendable logs on the island; I’ve noticed a few dead trees from my bedroom window. If you like, I could speak to Vincent about having his helpers cut them down for you.”

Emma didn’t really care how Wont solved his problem, but she did want to keep the peace, and a raft seemed harmless enough. Dead pines were a fire hazard; it surely wouldn’t hurt to take them down.

“A raft would look good in the illustrations,” said Joris Groot. “Kind of a Robinson Crusoe touch.”

“Provided we could get to it.” Wont wasn’t giving in to reason that easily.

“No problem.” Black John Sendick was keen enough, that was obvious. “We could pole it back and forth, or rig a cable. Or wade or swim, or buy one of those little rubber boats you blow up with a hand pump. The rocks can’t be more than about twenty feet out at high tide, for Pete’s sake. We don’t need any big Jacques Cousteau number, Ev.”

Wont preferred to retain his ire. “I thought I was the one assigned to consider the alternative possibilities. Mrs. Kelling, would it be too much to ask why I was not informed that no boat would be available?”

“Could it be because you failed to tell Mrs. Sabine what you had in mind?”

“But this is outrageous! Out here by ourselves with no way of getting ashore. What if there’s an emergency?”

“Like somebody getting punched out by the pirate ghosts,” said Black John.

Wont was all set to explode, but Count Radunov defused him. “I have already asked Mr. Vincent what he would do in time of crisis. He said he would radio either his sons or the Coast Guard, depending on the circumstances. Should the radio be out of order, he would send up signal rockets, of which he has ample supply. As a last resort, we could always paddle ourselves ashore on this raft which it now appears should be built. We are in no danger of being marooned, Dr. Wont. I suggest we all relax and enjoy our pudding. It looks, I must say, remarkably good.”

C
OFFEE WOULD BE SERVED
in the drawing room, that was the way it had always been. Emma was glad to see that Vincent had got a driftwood fire going. At least the flames couldn’t be forced to flicker within accustomed patterns or the salt-soaked wood to pop and crackle in a predetermined rhythm.

Sandy and Bernice had the coffee service already set out on a low table pulled up to the sofa. The demitasses were dainty things, pleated like opening hibiscus blossoms, each in a different shade, ranging from rose to orange to yellow to cream. A hostess gift, Emma supposed, from somebody who’d taken the trouble to find out what Adelaide would really like. She reserved the rose-colored one for herself and poured out for her guests. Adelaide Sabine’s guests, rather. Still more specifically, Everard Wont’s.

Dr. Wont hadn’t become any more sociable as the meal progressed, but at least he’d stopped trying to throw his weight around. By now nobody was talking much. Even Count Radunov appeared to think he’d been charming enough for one evening, though he did throw Emma an
intime
little smile now and then when he happened to think of it. She’d put Groot and Sendick beside her on the sofa, but she didn’t intend to stay with them any longer than she could decently avoid.

She was tired, desperately tired. She wished she might pack the lot of them off to their temporary dwellings, enjoy the fire by herself for a little while, then go back to that welcoming bedroom and sleep as long as she pleased, with nobody yodeling up and down the stairs.

Instead, she must get to the kitchen and find out what Vincent intended to do with their mysterious castaway. She was glad the caretaker hadn’t known about the uninvited guest when he telephoned the Pences. He’d no doubt have felt duty-bound to tell, and they surely didn’t need anything more to worry about just now. Emma wondered whether Adelaide would still be alive by the time this house party dispersed. As one grew older, one learned to recognize the look she’d seen on Adelaide’s face in the tea tent, the look that meant, “I’m ready to go.” On to whatever might happen next. Emma had felt a bit like that herself, on and off, ever since Bed had gone to find out.

More off than on, though; she’d adjusted to living with half of herself someplace where the rest of her couldn’t reach. There was always something that had to be done before quitting time, and thank the Lord for that. As soon as she decently could, Emma set down her empty coffee cup and stood up. Without appreciable effort, she was happy to note. Firm sofa pillows were another blessing, though naturally Adelaide Sabine would never have been foolish enough to choose the kind of furniture anybody over forty had to be hauled out of by main force.

“Now if you people will excuse me, I must have that chat with the cook before he goes off duty. I hope you all sleep well during your first night on the island, and I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow at breakfast. As you know, if you’ve read your notices, it’s served buffet-style between half-past seven and half-past nine. Don’t forget to ask for a packed lunch then if you’re going to want one later. I’ll send one of the girls for the coffee tray,” Emma added because she had a psychic hunch Mrs. Fath was wondering whether the guests were supposed to help with the dishes.

Back in the kitchen, she found the company a bit livelier, even though Neil, Ted, and the amnesiac were all absent. Sandy and Bernice were washing dishes with much giggle and chatter and blowing bubbles. Vincent and the cook were having a companionable sit-down over the kitchen table, empty plates and half-full coffee mugs in front of them. When they saw her coming, the men stood up, not at all embarrassed at having been caught acting like normal human beings.