Mamie’s left brow arched slightly higher than her right.
Birdie grinned. “You know something, don’t you?” She looked at me. “She knows something.”
Mamie relaxed her brow and shrugged nonchalantly. “I know Finnoula.”
I squinted at her. “Who’s Finnoula?”
“Mrs. Bitterbark. George’s mother.” Mamie leaned in. “And between us, there’s something off about her illness. Something not quite right.”
“Such as?” I asked.
Mamie paused. “All I can say is I don’t think she’s as sick as she makes out to be.”
The best part of the factory tour was the start of it—from the top floor of my uncle’s office, we took the slide all the way down to the bottom.
Birdie went first. I heard a little scream that started out sounding panicked, then turned into one of exhilaration. When I met her at the bottom, she was giggling like I had never before heard her. She put her hand on her stomach. “My lands, that was fun. But I think once was enough.”
I snorted as I smoothed a hand over my hair to make sure I wasn’t too disheveled. “Well, it’s all up from here anyway.”
The tour of the factory took a little over two hours, in part because there was so much to see, but also because Birdie wanted to talk to so many of the workers. She gave a lot of praise for the jobs they were doing, and she asked a lot of questions. I loved that about her, though. I was a question-asker myself.
Asking questions was the only way to learn, and the fact that she was so interested in everything made me appreciate her that much more. She wasn’t faking her curiosity about my town. It was all genuine. Hard not to love a person like that.
Despite everything we saw and everyone we met, I suspected part of Birdie’s mind was stuck on the same thing mine was. The little nugget of info Mamie had dropped on us about Finnoula Bitterbark.
What did it mean in the scheme of things that she might not be as sick as she let on? Why pretend otherwise? There were myriad reasons, of course, but if Mamie was right, Finnoula was certainly committed to her ruse. My father had said she’d been sick for years. But I guess faking an illness like Grater’s wasn’t something you could just stop doing.
Grater’s wasn’t curable.
So she either genuinely had it, maybe not in such an advanced stage as was believed, or she was an incredible actress and was now stuck pretending to be sick. There was always an out, of course. Coming clean and fessing up. But that would mean admitting her lie.
And what would the repercussions of that be for her son, the superintendent?
I couldn’t wait for lunch and the answers I hoped it would bring.
Birdie hooked her arm through mine as we approached the elevator. “Thank you for bringing me here and showing me all of this. Charlie would love this. I wish I could tell him about it.”
“You could. The North Pole isn’t exactly a secret. Maybe leave out the part about how to get here.” Charlie was her nephew and one of the cutest little werewolves you’d ever seen. “Does he still believe in Santa?”
“Oh yes,” Birdie assured me. “And he will for the rest of his life if I have anything to say about it. Hannah Rose too. Although she’s still kind of little to understand the Santa thing.”
Hannah Rose was Charlie’s baby sister, the newest addition to the Merrow family. “How old is she now?”
“Almost two.”
We got on the elevator and went back up to my uncle’s office. “Maybe someday you could bring them up to visit. You and Jack. If Ivy and the sheriff wouldn’t mind letting the kids go on a trip without them.”
“Maybe.” Birdie nodded as we got out of the car. “Or maybe before that, your uncle could do a special appearance in Nocturne Falls.”
“We can certainly talk to him about it. Having Santa visit the toy shop would be perfectly logical too.”
Santa’s Workshop was the toy store chain owned by my family. The one in Nocturne Falls was our flagship location. I’d worked there as the manager until moving back here. The stores allowed my uncle to do all kinds of product testing and field research.
Mamie was on the phone when we went into the office, but she hung up a few moments later and smiled brightly at us. “How did you enjoy your tour, Birdie?”
“It was magical. I love this place.”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Ready to eat?”
Birdie laughed. “Mamie, I’m a werewolf. We’re always ready to eat.”
“Then let’s go.”
“We’re taking the elevator, right?” Birdie asked. “I don’t think the slide before lunch is such a great idea.”
I squelched my urge to chuckle. “Yep, elevator it is.”
Mamie closed up the office, and we headed down to the cafeteria. “I’m not a slide person either,” she told Birdie. “I mean, look at me. Do I look like a woman who travels by slide?”
Birdie and I both shook our heads. Mamie, in her pencil skirt and twinset, clearly wasn’t dressed for that kind of tomfoolery. Or any kind of tomfoolery, really. That’s probably why she was so good at keeping things under control up here.
The cafeteria was hopping for lunch, but there was a table reserved for my uncle, so seating wouldn’t be a problem. We took our trays and got in line. The smells were all so yummy, but once again, we were faced with far too many selections.
“How am I going to choose?” Birdie asked, moving to the side to see past people. “This is Sweetie’s all over again. And I’m sure it’s all good.”
“It is,” Mamie said. “But one of today’s specials is a patty melt on rye with fries, and it’s an absolute favorite of mine, so I’m getting that. Especially with a slice of cherry pie a la mode to finish it off.”
Birdie’s mouth rounded. “And here I thought you were going to get a salad. Nice to be proved wrong.”
Mamie smiled. “I may dress like a lady, but I eat with gusto. And the patty melt is not to be missed.”
“That does sound good. A patty melt and cherry pie are both classics. Hard to go wrong there.”
“Except,” I added with my finger raised for emphasis, “that they also have tater tot casserole as a special today, and banana pudding is one of the desserts. So I don’t even need to see what else is on the menu.”
“Oh my.” Birdie looked around. “Where are you seeing these specials?”
I pointed out the board where they were listed, along with the day’s soups, which were split pea with ham and crab chowder, and the daily desserts of cherry pie, banana pudding, and carrot cake.
Birdie took a moment to read the board, then shook her head. “Way too much to pick from, but I’m going to compromise and get a patty melt and banana pudding.”
“Perfect,” I said.
We got our food and sat in the reserved booth. I never minded anyone coming up to me because of who I was, like Matilda at Sweetie’s, but that never happened in this cafeteria. People here were pretty used to seeing me. And this was their lunch hour. Most of them wanted to catch up with their friends, enjoy their break, and relax for a few. Not get an autograph from the princess.
We dug into our meals, letting a few minutes of silence go by while we enjoyed the food. But then I was ready to dig into something else entirely.
“All right, Mamie. Tell us what you know about Finnoula.”
“Well…” She gestured dramatically with one of her French fries. It wore a cap of ketchup like a little hat. “It seems George had his heart broken once upon a time in the blossom of his youth. He was devastated. He’d planned to marry the girl, and she ditched him cold. Never even returned the ring, from what I’ve heard. He fell into such a funk that Finnoula decided to give him something else to focus on.”
Mamie delicately bit the ketchup hat off the fry.
Birdie’s mouth gaped. “Are you saying she made up the illness so he’d take care of her?”
Mamie swallowed. “She didn’t make it up. She’s definitely sick. But something—call it
instinct, call it a woman’s intuition, whatever you like—but something tells me she’s dramatizing this disease. Milking it for all it’s worth.”
“But Dr. Charming diagnosed her,” I said. “He would know if she was putting on a show.”
“Sure, to some extent. He can test her lungs and see if the disease is present, but can you tell a fake cough from a real one? If someone’s truly weak or just acting weak? A test for lung capacity in a Grater’s patient can be affected by the effort the patient puts in. There’s a lot to a disease like that which can be amplified by the person who has it.”
I thought about that. “And how many years has she had Grater’s?”
“I’d say at least thirty. Maybe longer.” Mamie squinted in deep thought. “It wasn’t so bad for the first decade or so. She still made it to our canasta games then. But as time went on, the disease progressed.” She shrugged. “Or her portrayal of it did.”
Birdie looked at me. “Didn’t you say Grater’s is a disease that the miners get? That it involves long exposure to extreme cold?”
I nodded. “Right. That’s why I don’t know how Finnoula could have gotten it.”
“It happens,” Mamie said. “Once in a while, if an elf is a little frail. She could have had some other illness as a child that made her more susceptible to it.”
“Oh? I don’t think I knew that.”
“Sure,” Mamie said. “Shiver pox, for example.”
“But we’ve all had shiver pox.”
“Hold up,” Birdie said. “What’s shiver pox?”
“Three days of spots, itching, and nonstop shivering,” I answered. “The winter elf version of chicken pox. We all get it around age five or six. Once you have it, you’re immune to ever having it again. And a lot of elves believe it strengthens your constitution against things like Grater’s.”
“It does,” Mamie said. “Except in a few rare individuals. In those cases, it makes them more likely to get certain illnesses. That’s why miners have to go through so many tests before they’re cleared for the mines.”
I shook my head. “You learn something new every day.” But the idea that Finnoula would go to such lengths for her son was pretty interesting stuff. It also made me wonder just how bad his breakup had been.
And what had happened to the woman who’d dumped him?
I tilted toward Mamie. “Can you tell me anything more about George’s breakup? Was he upset enough to want revenge?”
“As in would he have killed his former fiancée because she ditched him? I don’t think so. As far as details…” She squinted in thought, then shook her head. “It was so long ago. I don’t think I can recall much more about his state of mind except that he was laid low by the whole thing.”
I sighed. “I’d really like to know more.”
“Such as?” Birdie asked.
“Such as why George’s fiancée left him. Who was she? Does she still live in the North Pole? When did she break up with him? Right after he asked her to marry him or after a long engagement? Did Finnoula approve of the relationship? If not, why not? Has George been involved with any other women since then, or has caring for his mother really consumed all of his free time? And does any of this have anything to do with the hangar tours being shut down?”
Birdie nodded. “All good questions. All questions I’d like the answers to as well. Seems to me a visit to Finnoula is in order.”
Mamie clucked her tongue. “You two are—”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You’re not curious?”
Her brow went up again. “I was going to say you two are not going over there without me.”
I grinned. “You want to go with us?”
“Not only do I want to, but you need me. Finnoula will talk to me. She has to. She owes me.”
“That might be true,” Birdie said. “But we can’t just walk into her house and start asking questions. Not without some kind of reason. And what does she owe you for?”
“Actually, as a member of the royal family, I sort of could just walk in and start asking questions. But that’s not a great way to get answers. However…” I tapped my fingers on the table and smiled. “I think I have a reason.”
As much as I wanted to ask what Mamie meant by Finnoula owing her, I didn’t. Which wasn’t to say I wouldn’t reopen that subject at a later date, but right now, we had a bigger pile of snow to shovel.
The drive to the Bitterbarks didn’t take long. They lived in the builders’ section of town. George’s father had been an architect. When Finnoula got sick, George had moved back into his childhood home to take care of his mother. He hadn’t lived on his own since. That’s what Mamie told us on the drive over, after I filled her and Birdie in on my plan.
When we arrived, we let Mamie go up the steps ahead of us, figuring that since she knew Finnoula, it made sense for her to do the introductions. Although, in all honesty, we weren’t sure Finnoula would answer the door. We hoped she would, obviously, but she was supposed to be sick. What did that mean for her mobility? As far as we knew, her illness just made her housebound. Not bedridden.
But we also really hoped George didn’t answer.
As Mamie rang the bell, I crossed my fingers that this little plan worked. Birdie and I stood a step behind her so that Finnoula would see Mamie’s face first. This was one time when being the princess might not help.
The faint melody of the doorbell chimes could be heard on our side, but then nothing. No footsteps. No sounds of movement.
Birdie shrugged. “Maybe she’s sleeping. Or at a doctor’s appointment.”
Mamie rang the bell again. “She’s home. She’s always home. From what I’ve heard, she hasn’t stepped out of this house in nearly fifteen years. Maybe longer.”
Birdie let out a little whistle.
Another four minutes proved Mamie right when the door opened, and a middle-aged woman in a housekeeper’s uniform answered. Beneath her white cap, her dark blue hair showed streaks of silver. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Mamie Wynters, an old friend of Finnoula’s.” Then she stepped to the side. “And this is—”
The housekeeper curtsied and finished her sentence for her. “Princess Jayne.”
“And,” Mamie continued, “her guest, Birdie Caruthers.”
I took it from there. “We’re here to see the superintendent. I have a request for him. Official royal business.”
“I’m sorry.” Lines of concern bracketed the housekeeper’s mouth and eyes. Official royal business wasn’t something to stand in the way of. “But he’s not home. He should be at his office shortly.”
Mamie held a notebook to her chest. There was nothing in it, but it made her look official. Like she’d been authorized to accompany me on this errand. Which she had been. By me. “They told us there that he was home for lunch.”
“He was,” the housekeeper said. “He comes home every day to check on his mother. But he’s just gone back.”
Exactly as Mamie had said, and thanks to her, we’d timed this perfectly. I smiled my best royal smile. “The request I wish to speak to him about is slightly personal, which is why I thought it would be nice to talk to him at home.”
“Of course.” The housekeeper nodded sympathetically. “I can leave a message for him if you’d like.”
I kept my smile in place. “When do you think he will be home?”
“Usually right at five.”
That gave us plenty of time to accomplish what we’d come for.
“Since we’re here,” Mamie said, “I’d love to say hello to Finnoula. We’ve known each other for years.”
The housekeeper hesitated, glancing over her shoulder like she needed approval.
“That would be very nice,” I said. Then I spoke to the housekeeper. “I understand she’s not well. Does she get many visitors?”
“Not many, no. Well, none, really,” the housekeeper conceded. “Let me see if she’s up for company.”
But before the housekeeper could g
o check, Finnoula appeared behind her. She was thin but not gaunt, although her loose sweater over wide-legged pants hid much of her shape. She was a little pale, but when was the last time she’d been outside? She didn’t look remotely like a woman at death’s door.
Sick, yes. Dying, no. Although the oxygen tank on wheels hooked to the air line tucked over her ears and under her nose was about as convincing as it got.
She stopped at the entrance to the foyer. “I heard voices.” She squinted at us. “Mamie? Mamie Wynters?”
“Hello, Finnoula.” Mamie stepped through the door. “How’ve you been?”
Finnoula smiled and took a deep, ragged breath. “As well as I can be. My word, it’s been an age. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you. It’s lovely to see you.”
“You too. You still work for the big man?”
“I do. As a matter of fact, I’ve brought his niece with me.” Mamie moved slightly, gesturing to me as she did.
Finnoula’s gaze followed Mamie’s pointing. Her eyes widened a little, and she reached out to take hold of the wall, using it to aid her in a shallow bow. “Princess Jayne. What an unexpected honor.”
I smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Bitterbark. We came to talk to George, but since he’s not here, Mamie was wondering if you’d like some company, seeing as how you two are old friends.”
“That would be nice.” Finnoula looked at the housekeeper. “Elma, fix a tea tray and bring it into the sitting room, will you?”
“Certainly, Mrs. Bitterbark.”
Finnoula waved us on in. “Let’s go into the sitting room. I don’t have the energy to stand for very long these days.”
Mamie came alongside and looped her arm through Finnoula’s. The kind, sweet gesture seemed like one of both friendship and support, and Finnoula leaned into her.
I had a good feeling we were going to find out what we’d come for.
We all got seated, and I introduced Birdie, then we made some small talk about her being here to help with the wedding. Right about then, Elma came in with a tea cart that held far more than tea.
Of course, we’d just had lunch, but it would be rude not to take something. We filled our small plates from the selection of little caramel cakes, white-iced brown cookies, slices of cranberry walnut bread, pumpkin muffins, and an assortment of chocolates, salted nuts, and dried fruits.
Miss Frost Says I Do: A Nocturne Falls Mystery (Jayne Frost Book 7) Page 7
