Deader Homes and Gardens Part 17

"Thanks." I got in my car and drove down the driveway. The reporters, the TV vans, and the gawkers were gone. The police officers waved me through the gate, not having received the memo to search my car. I appreciated the silence when I arrived home. The boxes had bred in my absence; there were twice as many shoe boxes in stacks in the hall. I went out to the balcony. The afternoon had not been profitable in terms of piecing together any of the fragments that were banging around in my mind. It had been interesting, though. Felicia was not as timorous as she pretended to be. She'd said that she and Winston drank wine on occasion. I wondered if she had found her way to the wine cellar after his death. After Terry arrived on the scene, with rumors that he might sell the house, the access would cease. It wasn't much of a motive for murder.

She had confirmed that Danny Delmond had been to her house, admittedly in a vague manner. In a very vague and oblique manner, I corrected myself. She had said that Charles's life was his church and the nursery, and he would be devastated to lose either one. Although I'd yet to see it, Danny might be able to transform himself into an affable, charismatic businessman whose one goal in life was to house homeless souls. Ethan and Nattie had told me that they knew nothing about a development at Hollow Valley. That made sense, since Danny would start with the alpha dog. Pandora b.u.t.terfly was the omega dog, and Felicia was a chi or psi dog at best. If Charles was even considering Danny's offer, he would have to convince Margaret Louise and Ethan. Moses would surely have named the family corporation as his heir. Terry wouldn't have agreed to anything that would benefit the Hollows. Winston might not have, either. The first step would have been to kill him. When the deed with right of survivorship popped up, the second step was to kill Terry-and it had to be done before he sold the property to the wife of the deputy chief of the Farberville Police Department. Angela had been in the way, requiring yet another step.

I wanted to call Jorgeson and shout, "It's Danny Delmond! He did it! Lock him up and bury the key in your rose garden." It was not probable that he would oblige. He was methodical and overly attentive to procedure. Lacking imagination, he might ask for proof. Which was a problem. Breaking into Danny's office was not a possibility, even with Caron and Inez's devious a.s.sistance. Inez's little brother could build an incendiary device to shatter the door, but I would have only a minute or two inside before I was arrested. Peter would not react well if his wife was accused of terrorism, no matter how minor the offense.

I had given up for the moment and was watching the sunset when I heard someone whistling "Three Little Maids from School Are We," a song from Mikado. I leaned forward and saw Billy Bobstay ambling by with an ornate walking stick.

"Hey, Yum-Yum," I called.

He stopped and squinted up at me. "I beg your pardon. My name is Pitti-Sing."

"Would you like to come up for a drink, Pitti-Sing?"

"At your service, Peep-Bo. Perhaps we can harmonize as the sun drifts below the horizon and night falls on the palace in t.i.tipu. How should I scale the wall?"

"Try the front door and the stairs," I said, smiling. I was delighted to have a distraction. I went inside and opened my door. He was panting when he reached the final step, and his ears were pink.

"Thank goodness I didn't have to climb the ivy. It gives me a rash."

I fixed him a drink, and we went out to the balcony. "How was your jaunt to Missouri? The food must have been scrumptious," I said.

"Oh, yes, Loretta told me you were at her house yesterday. The trip was tedious, I must say. Samuel has taken up the accordion. He found it in his grandfather's attic. He swears that when he picked it up, he had a spiritual revelation that he'd been chosen to keep up the tradition. I dislike the accordion, but I absolutely loathe it in the hands of an amateur. We forced him to do all the driving, but we did stop for lunch. Cars driving by honked in protest. The cows in the pasture fled for the barn. Their milk will be curdled for days."

"I trust the mission was accomplished without any fatalities."

"As always," he said with a melodramatic sigh. "We do this every few months so that Samuel can buy cheap cigarettes. He simply refuses to admit that the cost of gasoline negates any savings. It's the principle of the thing."

"Cigarettes are cheaper in Missouri?" I asked. "Why is that?"

"State tax. Nasty things, cigarettes. I much prefer healthy vices." He grinned at me. "What are your vices, Peep-Bo? Singing in the shower? Chocolate? I see from the slight blush on your cheeks that you're thinking of something naughty."

"I was thinking of Yum-Yum," I said, ducking my head. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

He held out his empty gla.s.s. "I will ponder it, and when you return I shall have come to a conclusion. Students have been asking me questions all day. My a.s.sistant asked if he could take his vacation in July, of all things. That's when we do our summer production. I told him if he went on a cruise with his pretty boy, he might as well buy a cabana in Cancun or some ridiculous place like that." I tried to grab his gla.s.s, but he was waving his arm to emphasize the implications of such treachery. "July, mind you. We're doing The Boys in the Band this year. I would be honored if you choose to attend."

I finally snagged his gla.s.s and went into the kitchen. Billy had found a captive audience on my balcony and might stay until midnight. All I could do was persevere in hopes I could steer him in a more useful direction. I handed him his drink and sat down, but before he could continue discussing his next production, I said, "Did Loretta tell you what we talked about?"

"Are the two of you up to no good? I should warn you that despite her penchant for rebellion, at heart she's conservative. She likes men. I like men as well, but of a different sort."

"We talked about Winston," I said before he could elaborate. "Did he ever say anything to you about his relatives at Hollow Valley?"

"He resented them for the way he was treated as an adolescent, but he didn't despise them. I wish my parents had sent me to a boarding school when I came out to them. Instead, they hugged me. It was such a letdown. I'd envisioned a dramatic scene with tears and anguish, along the lines of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I got the von Trapp family. I would have begged to be sent to one of those British prep schools where the older boys flog the younger ones on their bare b.u.t.tocks."

"It's never too late to apply. Did Winston say anything about selling his property to a developer named Danny Delmond?"

Billy blinked. "Why would he and Terry sell their new house? They enjoyed living here. I might prefer a house in Tuscany, with my own vineyard. A gla.s.s of vino, a plate of pasta, a houseboy named Guido-what more could anyone want?"

"You never heard Winston mention Danny Delmond?" I persisted.

"The name is not familiar. He did say that an uncle tried to buy the property. Apparently the uncle was a teensy bit uncomfortable having a gay couple for next-door neighbors. Winston and Terry thought it was hysterical. They said whenever the uncle tried to talk to them in a civilized fashion, his eyes bulged like golf b.a.l.l.s." Billy widened his eyes and goggled at me.

I grimaced. "I've met the man, and received the same look. Did you talk to Terry after he came back from Italy and learned about Winston's death?"

Billy was quiet for a moment. "Yes. He came to Loretta and Nicole's place while I was there. He was in a rage. We were afraid he might hurt himself. I drove down the hill and bought a big bottle of vodka, tonic water, and a dozen limes. We drank with him until he pa.s.sed out from exhaustion. Jet lag, and then the dreadful news. It was a very bad day."

"Yes, it must have been."

We sat for a long while, watching the sunset. Pedestrians walked by the duplex, heading for the restaurants on Thurber Street. Eventually the streetlights came on. I should have been thinking furiously, but I was too befuddled to bother.

Billy cleared his throat. "Winston told me something after they'd been living in the house for six months or so. It may be insignificant. One night he went for a walk, and when he reached the silly statue of Colonel Mustard, he heard a great deal of noise at the nursery. He concluded that the moonflowers and evening primroses were being shipped out under the cloak of darkness. I told him that was utter balderdash. He had a very self-satisfied expression on his face, but he refused to explain himself. Frankly, I doubted that he could. Now, my dear Peep-Bo, I must continue to my humble abode for a bowl of soup and a torturous evening of grading papers written by earnest nincomp.o.o.ps who have no idea about the importance of being earnest."

I waited at my front door until I heard him go out to the porch. He resumed whistling as he headed home. I could understand his displeasure at grading papers; I'd been a TA for three years and had groaned through many a mangled essay. I locked the door and made myself a sandwich. Like Winston, I'd heard noises from the nursery after dark. Moonflowers and evening primroses had not come to mind. With deliveries going to three states, the trucks would be on the road continuously. It was a busy season for dedicated gardeners and professional landscapers. My busy seasons, which weren't all that busy, occurred at the beginning of the fall and spring semesters, when unenthusiastic students dragged in with empty backpacks and shiny credit cards. I was as appalled as they were at the prices of textbooks, but I was smiling when they dragged out with laden backpacks and tarnished credit cards.

After I finished eating, I rinsed out the gla.s.ses and left them in the sink. It was getting late, and time flies whether or not you're having fun. I crawled into my bed and resumed reading a mystery. Scotland Yard was on the wrong track, convinced that the light at the end of the tunnel was the solution. It was too obvious, the amateur sleuth explained tactfully. They were in the wrong tunnel. Lord Brandywine had not murdered his wife for the insurance money. It was all about the estate.

15.

The next morning, braced with coffee, I called Attorney Cranberry's office. Her receptionist told me that Ms. Cranberry would be in court all day. I asked her to let Ms. Cranberry know that I'd called. I ate a piece of toast and called Jorgeson, who probably wished that he could hide in court all day.

"Ms. Malloy," he said flatly.

"Good morning," I said. "I suppose you heard about Moses Hollow's death yesterday. It's getting to be dangerous out there, isn't it?"

"Yes, I was informed of the death from natural causes. Surely you aren't going to suggest that it was murder."

That stopped me for a moment. "I wasn't, but it's not inconceivable. He might have seen something suspicious, you know. He was a free-range pain in the neck." I heard a drawn-out sigh that hinted of exasperation. "Have you heard anything new from the state lab? What about the fingerprints at Winston's house?"

"I have heard nothing from the state lab, Ms. Malloy, and I don't antic.i.p.ate hearing from them for days, if not weeks. The only prints on the vodka bottle belonged to the victim. This gives credence to the theory that someone tampered with the bottle and wiped off all the prints, unless Kennedy was compulsive about hygiene. Elsewhere we found numerous fingerprints, but none of them are in the database. We have nothing to compare them to, unless you'd like to come in and give us yours. That will rule out half of them."

"Goodness, Jorgeson, you must have had trouble sleeping last night. Have you tried warm milk?"

"No, I have not," he said. "I will make a note of your suggestion. If there's nothing else, I have a large pile of reports to get through before a meeting at eleven."

"Wait!" I yelped before he could get rid of me. "I have useful information for you. Danny Delmond lied about his alibi for the weekend. His girlfriend did not stand him up at the last minute. He stood her up so that he could be alone at his lake house."

"I realize that this may be an alien concept for you, but he may have wanted peace and quiet so that he could work. There is no evidence that he is involved, Ms. Malloy. You dislike him. That does not give us cause to question him further. Why don't you buy some nice decorating magazines to occupy yourself until Deputy Chief Rosen gets back to town?"

I ended the call without a fond farewell. My face was flushed from frustration, and my blood pressure was in an elevator on its way to a penthouse. I stomped around until I stubbed a toe on a box of dishes and had to hop to the sofa. Jorgeson was not my ally. Conforming to police procedure would keep him occupied with paperwork and meetings while the culprit chortled over his success.

There is a time to sit back with a magazine and a time to charge ahead. The Light Brigade had not faltered in the face of certain death. I would not falter in the face of contempt from Danny Delmond. If I called for an appointment, I would not be invited to set foot in his office during the next decade. I was dressing myself in a black skirt, demure blouse, and black blazer when the phone rang. I do not care for eerie coincidences. I stared at the phone for a moment before I answered with a curt "h.e.l.lo."

"Oh, Ms. Malloy, I'm so glad I caught you," said Inez's mother. She was a pleasant woman, dedicated to all things librarian. She always sounded slightly out of kilter with reality, and oblivious to her daughter's long history of brushes with the law. I do not believe in rocking other people's boats. "Would you please remind Inez that she has a dentist's appointment at eleven?"

"Inez isn't here," I said, trying to disregard the bells and whistles going off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. "The girls stayed at your house, didn't they?"

"Inez told me that they were staying at your house. Should I be worried?"

My eyes narrowed. "No, Ms. Thornton, I'm pretty sure I know where they were last night. I'll give Inez the message when I see her. It will be very soon." My house, in my dreams.

I managed to hang up without shattering the receiver. I called Caron's cell phone. It went to voice message immediately. I took off my shark-attack clothes and put on jeans and a T-shirt. I had driven to Hollow Valley so many times that I recognized individual weeds in the ditches and pockmarked county road signs. The reporters had lost interest, having nothing new to report. Mercifully, there was no police car parked by the arched sign. I drove very slowly to Winston's house, parked, and went around to the French doors.

No one was in the kitchen. I went down the hall and peered into the master bedroom. The king-sized bed was accommodating three p.r.o.ne bodies, all of them breathing. I made a pot of coffee and went out to the terrace, relieved but angry at Caron's deception. When I spoke to her via cell phone, she had said that Jordan was not in the graveyard. I'm sure she hadn't been at that particular moment. The three of them were elsewhere.

I let them sleep while I drank coffee and watched honeybees and b.u.t.terflies feasting in the flower beds. Eventually I went into the bedroom and roused them with unnecessary zeal. Inez scrambled to find her gla.s.ses, and Jordan tried to hide under the tangle of sheets and cotton blankets. Caron slunk into the bathroom to work on her opening statement to be presented to a jury of one.

I waited in the kitchen, drumming my fingers on the countertop. Inez glanced at me as she went to the refrigerator and found a canned soda. Jordan avoided eye contact as she did the same. Caron opted for a defiant look. She perched on a stool and said, "It Wasn't My Fault."

Inez gaped at her. "Well, it wasn't my fault, either."

Jordan did not offer a disclaimer. I looked them over for a long moment, then said, "Would you care to explain? Please don't pretend that the Dearg Due chased you in here."

"Who?" Caron asked, her nose wrinkled.

"Never mind. You told me that you were spending the night at Inez's house. Inez, your mother called to remind you that you have a dentist's appointment at eleven. Jordan, there may be an APB out for you. Nattie's worried about you."

"So what?" Jordan asked.

Her flippancy impressed Caron and Inez. It did not impress me, however. "As soon as we conclude this little discussion, you are to go straight to the mill and apologize to Aunt Margaret Louise. You will then apologize to Nattie. Got it?"

"Yeah, sure. There's nothing more fun than being lectured for an hour-and that's if I'm lucky. Too bad Aunt Margaret Louise can't put me on a bus home. My parents will have to cancel their vacation so they can drag me to a shrink. Been there, done that. The last one was this really old guy who could barely keep his hands off me. The one before that was a woman who wanted to be my BFF."

I waited until Caron translated it for me. "Then talk to me," I said. "Why did you disappear yesterday afternoon? Were you that distressed about Moses's death?"

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" asked Caron. "You promised to tell us everything."

Jordan shrugged. "That was last night. I'm tired of being accused of lying and exaggerating. I'll go get down on my knees in front of Aunt Margaret Louise and beg for forgiveness. I will follow all of Ethan's orders for the rest of the day, and possibly tomorrow. I will set the table and offer to do the dishes. I may hang around for Moses's funeral. He's the only one who treated me like a human being."

"Instead of unpaid labor," I said. "I understand why you're angry at them. I would be, too, if I were in your position."

"You're not in my position, Ms. Malloy. I may be a kid, but I'm not brain-dead. They think I am. They can keep on thinking that while I'm on the road to Springfield or wherever. When the driver stops to make a delivery, I can slip out and hitch a ride to Canada. I'll become a famous fishing guide and charge hundreds of dollars to take a bunch of guys out to the middle of nowhere."

"Fishing guide?" echoed Caron. "That's kind of yucky."

"You could become a supermodel," Inez said. "You'll be like really skinny if you live in the wilderness. You have great cheekbones."

Jordan touched her face. "Do you think so?"

I cut in before they started debating designers. "Yesterday I watched trucks being loaded. Unless you have the cheekbones of a boxwood, you won't have much luck escaping on a truck."

"You don't get it," she said again.

I was beyond frustration. "What don't I get?"

"You should have asked Moses," she said with a smirk.

I calculated the distance between us. I would have to pole vault across the island to grab her by the shoulders. In that I lacked a pole and the ability to vault, she was relatively safe. "How did you stow away on a delivery truck the first time?"

Caron and Inez were transfixed. Their eyes were locked on Jordan, who'd raised the bar to a much higher level-despite being three years younger. I was sure that they were comparing their antics to hers. She was rebellious and rude. She'd hung around street corners after dark. She had a tattoo.

Jordan looked at me. "I disguised myself as a flowering pear tree. I stuck some petunias between my fingers and held my breath."

She was still mad at me because I hadn't slain the dragons and rescued her from the dungeon. I was not unaccustomed to teenagers holding grudges. Caron still complains about being bested in the middle school science fair, even though the winner had a.n.a.lyzed chemicals in the local aquifer and Caron's sweet potato had rotted in a gla.s.s of water. I hastily revised my plan.

"You're so clever," I said admiringly. "Tell us how you did it."

She held out her arms and fluttered her fingers. "Use your imagination, Ms. Malloy. Pandora does a really good weeping willow. It brings tears to my eyes."

I retreated to the terrace before my baser instincts could kick in. Nattie had told me that Jordan had managed to stow away on a delivery truck. I'd watched two trucks being loaded. Unless Jordan was in cahoots with a workman, she could not have made herself invisible. Unless there was another way. I realized that I'd needed to inspect the trucks more carefully. Only Ethan, Charles, and forty workmen would present a problem. I revised my plan for the second time.

"Jordan," I said as I came back into the kitchen, "get off the stool and go to the mill right now. Caron and Inez, we have many things to talk about, but we shall do so later." I clapped my hands like a hard-hearted headmistress. "Move it, all of you!"

Caron made a final plea for the defendant. "You can't send her back to Those People. What about the Geneva Conventions? Aunt Margaret Louise destroyed her cell phone. She can't even tweet!"

"Neither can I," I said. "Tweeting is best left to songbirds. Don't forget your appointment, Inez. As for you, Caron Malloy-go to the Book Depot and give it a thorough cleaning. Sweep the floor, scour the bathroom, and dust the bookshelves. The new clerk can tell you what else needs to be done."

"That is so Not Fair," she protested with a squeak.

"Would you rather spend the day at the nursery? Ethan can find lots of jobs for you, such as picking spider mites off the begonias and spreading fertilizer."

"I didn't lie. You asked if Jordan was at the graveyard, and she wasn't. We really were going to Inez's house, but we stopped here to rest after that nightmarish hike. We were all covered with bugs and dead leaves and mud. We got in the pool for no more than half an hour, and then Jordan found a quiche in the freezer. It was going to go to waste, so we heated it and ate it. By then, it was too dark to go slogging across a pasture littered with cow p.o.o.p and who knows what else."

"No zombies surrounding the house?" I asked sweetly.

Caron crossed her arms. "I am telling you the truth, Mother."

"I am not a priest who will hear your confession and absolve you on the spot. You did not call me-and don't pretend your cell phone died. The Book Depot or the Hollow Valley Nursery. Choose one."

Jordan snorted. "I'd rather scrub the urinals at a bus station than put up with Ethan yammering at me. Uncle Charles acts like he's seated on a throne, commanding the peasants to dig potatoes with their bare hands. Last week I snuck into the office to hide, but Uncle Charles caught me. He was so p.i.s.sed off that spittle was flying everywhere while he yelled at me. I thought he was going to hit me."

Ethan had shown me the office. It was unremarkable. Magazines and brochures were stacked haphazardly in corners. There were maps on the wall of Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Missouri. A photograph of the family members preparing to cut a ribbon was hung in a place of honor. Other photographs were of Charles, Ethan, Nattie, and Margaret Louise in varied combinations at trade shows. The wall calendar depicted a cottage garden on a sunny day. It was very ho-hum.

"You'll be fine at Aunt Margaret Louise's house," I said to Jordan. I told Caron and Inez that I would drive them to the place where they'd parked the previous day. We left through the front door. Jordan took the path toward the Old Tavern and the mill. There was no conversation as I drove the girls a half mile down the county road and dumped them. It was not yet noon. I went to the duplex, changed back into my black suit, and drove to the square.

Delmond Enterprises Inc. occupied rooms on the second floor of a bank. I had no idea what to say that would elicit a confession. I had no choice but to trust my wits to keep me afloat. A woman with too many teeth smiled at me as I entered the reception room.

"Good afternoon," she said. "May I help you?"

"I need to speak to Danny Delmond."