The Deadly Ackee

by Joan Hess

  For a moment, she looked startled, then broke into laughter. “I’m a real estate agent, not a surrogate mother, Theo. If the rumors about the quantities of rum consumed by the Harmony Hills villa group are also true, I doubt you’ll be able to have any words with anyone until late in the afternoon.”

  “They had too much to drink?”

  “Of course they did. Everyone there did; it’s standard behavior and the only hope to salvage the poor girl’s reputation. Most of those present won’t remember much this morning.”

  Dorrie staggered across the terrace and plopped down next to Theo. Her face was puffy and swollen, her eyes pink, and her robe was buttoned in a haphazard fashion that left a bumpy path up to her neck.

  “Coffee, please,” she croaked in a hoarse voice. “And make it snappy. I feel as if I’ve been put through a wash-and-wear cycle and hung out to dry.”

  Gerry rummaged through her bulgy straw purse and produced two tablets. “I’ll get a cup from the kitchen, along with soda water so that you can take these. They’re prescription, and ought to help.”

  “I am beyond help.”

  “They can’t hurt,” Gerry said as she started for the kitchen. “I’ll be back with the soda water in a minute.”

  Dorrie gazed at Theo. “She meant to say Perrier, didn’t she? Please don’t make me drink generic soda water, Uncle Theo. I am in no condition to deal with it.”

  “Perhaps your palate will excuse it this once,” Theo said drily. “You do not appear to be at your peak of discernment this morning.”

  “This is not the time for weak attempts at humor. One more little joke and I shall throw myself over the railing.”

  Theo did not point out that she was likely to survive the three-foot fall. When Gerry returned with an empty cup and a glass of soda water, Dorrie obediently downed the pills with only a brief flicker of distaste. She then took her coffee cup and retreated to a shady corner of the terrace to mutter under her breath. Gerry promised to return later and gave Theo a gay little wave as she left. He did his best to reciprocate, but Dorrie merely raised a finger.

  “Gerry was telling me about Mary Margaret’s impromptu striptease act,” Theo said once the pink station wagon reached the foot of the driveway. “I am most distressed that she would engage in that sort of behavior.”

  Dorrie produced a prim sniff. “Well, I wasn’t surprised. Her father may own an entire insurance company in Hartford, but Daddy swears he cheats on the golf course and everybody knows he’s perpetually behind on the club dues. Her mother checks into quaint little rest homes about three times a year, the kind with barbed wire fences so no one can see you while they dry you out for the next charity ball. And Trey has been always a complete wastrel, from the age of eight when he was booted out of Miss Pipkin’s cotillion class to his arrest last summer when he stole John David Irwin’s boat and abandoned it three miles down the coast. He said he got bored and decided to find a local pub. John David dropped the charges, but let me tell you, it made for some fabulous conversation during the Labor Day tournament.”

  “Why are they tolerated, then?”

  “Oh, everybody’s used to them, and we are talking zillions of dollars,” she said, shrugging. “Is this interrogation absolutely necessary, Uncle Theo? My head is on the verge of a godawful explosion. I doubt the strain required to answer all these questions is exactly beneficial.”

  “I still feel obligated to have a word with her,” Theo said. “Even if her parents are as uncivilized as you claim, I must insist she behave in a more decorous manner while under my supervision.”

  “Have at it, Uncle Theo. But you’ll have to find her first.” Theo felt a twinge of alarm. “She’s not upstairs?” Dorrie held out her hand to study her shapely pink fingernails. “I had a manicure two days ago, and there’s already a chip. It’s incredibly difficult to get value for one’s money these days.” She curled in her claws and fluttered her eyelashes at Theo. “Mary Margaret didn’t come home with us last night. The last we saw of her, she was going off with a veritable platoon of drunks. Wherever do you think she can be?”

  Chapter Two

  To Theo’s heartfelt relief, Mary Margaret appeared at the bottom of the driveway shortly before noon, looking slightly disheveled but intact. He came onto the terrace in time to see her wave at a blue car as it sped down the hill. She then tugged at the strap of her sundress and paused to arrange a nonchalant expression before strolling up the driveway to the terrace.

  “Good morning, Mr. Bloomer,” she said. She sat down across from him and reached for the coffee pot.

  “Good morning, Mary Margaret,” Theo replied primly. “I fear you will discover the coffee is quite cold by this hour.”

  “Well, it must be time for Bloody Marys, then. I’m going to tell the cook to make me one. Would you like one?”

  “No, thank you. I would like a word with you, however, once you’ve asked Amelia to make your drink.”

  “No problem,” she said as she departed through the terrace door. It was well over ten minutes before she returned, now dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair was pulled out of her face by a barrette, and her face scrubbed to an innocent sheen.

  “I was disturbed this morning when I learned you were not upstairs,” Theo began in what he hoped was a sternly avuncular tone. It had yet to be successful with Dorrie, but he felt that he should make the attempt. “Also, I have heard reports that you created something of an uproar at the beach party.”

  “It was a stitch and a half,” she agreed.

  “It was hardly appropriate behavior. Should your parents learn of it, they would be upset, to say the very least. It has been made clear that I have been remiss in my duties as chaperone. I should have accompanied the group to this party in order to provide a stabilizing influence.”

  “I’d have done it anyway, and it wouldn’t have been all that entertaining for you—since you’ve already seen the prime points of my anatomy.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, then took a long drink of the Bloody Mary. “Haven’t they heard of Tabasco in this place? Don’t worry about my parents finding out about your dereliction of duty, Mr. Bloomer. Trey probably called this morning to tell Daddy all about it, if he could get the words out through his brays of laughter.”

  “You do not worry that they will be upset and perhaps demand that you return home at once?”

  “Why would they do that? Mummy’s in Switzerland to have her thighs vacuumed and Daddy’s probably got his current girlfriend tucked in the master bed. Anyway, it wasn’t as though I was at the club in front of their stodgy old banking friends. I kept my bra and panties on, for God’s sake.”

  “And where did you sleep last night?” Theo persisted, although it was becoming obvious that she was not the least bit remorseful.

  She gave him an ingenuous smile. “I’m really not sure who owned the place—isn’t that a total panic? I met these guys from Dartmouth, of all places, and we went to a divinely quaint native bar, literally packed with all these black men wearing funky braids and absolutely glaring at us as if they thought we were slumming. When that got to be stifling, we piled in the Jeep and drove all over the mountainside looking for a party one of the guys had heard about.”

  “You and your … friends crashed a party?”

  “As far as parties go, it was a dud. Just this older man with buck teeth and a few of his friends. Once he heard our woeful story, he let us in and gave us martinis, and everybody ended up skinny-dipping in the swimming pool. A couple of the guys had pretty quick hands, but I am capable of dealing with that sort of thing after hanging around Trey’s friends all these years. I passed out in a chaise beside the pool toward morning; I suppose the flight yesterday drained me.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Theo murmured, at a loss for further avuncular words of admonishment.

  Before he could decide how best to proceed, Dorrie and Bitsy came out on the balcony. “Welcome back,” Dorrie called down to Mary Margaret. “Did the boys from Dartmouth ma
ke you an honorary member of the fraternity after they’d all … made you?”

  “You know more about the initiation procedure than I do, honey.” Mary Margaret looked at her watch. “Where the hell is everybody? I’d like to hit the beach by one o’clock to do some sun. I for one do not intend to go home with a horrid white line across my back. Some people may enjoy the zebra effect, but I find it totally gross.”

  Bitsy smiled sweetly. “And heaven knows you’re an expert in the area of total grossness. Trey and Biff are still in bed. Sandy’s in the living room knocking golf balls into a plastic glass. By the way, if you wanted anything from the shops, it’s too late. Dear, thoughtful Sandy sent Eli out to pick up ice, limes, and a newspaper without bothering to check with any of us. Oh, but he couldn’t have checked with you because you just got in from your little drunken orgy, didn’t you? How silly of me.” She glanced over the fence at the villa next door, then did a discreet double-take. “Look at that example of the male species,” she said, jabbing Dorrie with her elbow. “He is to absolutely die for, isn’t he?”

  Dorrie’s mouth fell open. “Call the executioner.”

  Theo heard a splash, which he presumed indicated the existence of a swimming pool on the far side of the fence. The girls’ expressions indicated they were observing more than a neighbor taking a dip, but he could see nothing beyond the healthy bougainvillea thick with orange flowers.

  Mary Margaret pushed back her hair and, in an irritated voice, said, “Do you think it’s just a tad impolite to goggle and stare at the neighbors? I swear, you two are sweating and twitching like a pair of hypoglycemics in a candy store. What time will Eli be back with the car? Has anyone decided which hotel beach to use today?”

  Dorrie shook her head, her eyes still directed over the fence. “I don’t know when they’ll be back, Mary Margaret. Why don’t you call your buddies from Dartmouth and see if they’ll give you a ride?”

  “I don’t even know which hotel they’re staying at. Besides, Biff swore he’d show me how to toss a Frisbee. He was a teensy bit worried that you might object, but I assured him that we’re all too adult for that sort of petty, childish behavior. Why, you wouldn’t throw a tantrum out of sheer jealousy, would you?”

  “Heavens no,” Dorrie said distractedly. She whispered a few words to Bitsy, who went into the bedroom and returned seconds later with a small pair of binoculars.

  “I may barf,” Mary Margaret said, glaring at the balcony and the two girls taking turns with the binoculars. “I really may barf.”

  Theo retreated to his room.

  They were having lunch on the terrace when Gerry’s pink wagon pulled up the driveway. Conversation had been desultory, due to the various levels of hangovers evident on the faces around the table. The girls seemed to have recovered more quickly, but out of empathy restrained themselves to a few barbs. Trey had all the liveliness of the broiled fish on his plate, and his eyes the same blankness. Sandy and Biff had eaten a few bites, although neither had produced more than a grunted reply.

  Gerry joined them at the table. “I noticed nobody was awake for ackee and salt fish or boiled green bananas this morning,” she said as she accepted a glass of white wine from Sandy.

  Biff’s face turned the greenish-yellow color of the green swan orchid (Cycnoches chlorochilon). “Maybe another time,” he managed to say as he pushed back his chair and stumbled across the dining room for the stairs.

  “Poor baby,” Mary Margaret said, watching him with a smile.

  “It’s totally tragic,” said Dorrie. “Why don’t you toodle upstairs and hold poor baby’s head while he tosses his cookies all over you and the bathroom floor?”

  “That’s disgusting.” Bitsy looked at Gerry. “Who is that divine man who has the villa next door?”

  “An old friend of mine, Hal D’Orsini. He’s been on the island as long as I have, although he spends his summers on the Continent. He says he cannot abide the heat here, but the Riviera is hotter. I suspect it’s more the influx of tourists in the off-season. The rates drop by half, and those who can subsequently afford them are not quite his crowd. He flees in a panic from the rabble into the comforting arms of the filthy rich.”

  Trey pulled himself out of a trance. “D’Orsini? Haven’t I heard of him? Did he go to Harvard with Uncle Billy, Magsy?”

  “Would you like an unripened ackee shoved down your throat?” she responded without rancor. “Call me that name one more time.”

  “I don’t know about your Uncle Billy,” Gerry said, “but I do remember something about Andover, followed by Harvard. He’s merely rich and idle now.”

  Mary Margaret gazed speculatively at the fence. “Why, if he’s an old school chum of darling Uncle Billy’s, we really must have him over for a drink. He’s practically family. We’d be downright remiss if we didn’t give him a neighborly greeting over the fence, wouldn’t we?”

  Sandy looked at Bitsy, whose expression was as speculative as Mary Margaret’s. “I’d hardly imagine him a candidate for the family album, Mary Margaret. We don’t know all that much about him, and we don’t want some elderly sort hanging around all week.” He flushed as he caught Theo’s eye. “Not you, sir. We’re all delighted that you offered to come with us.”

  “We certainly are,” Dorrie inserted acidly.

  The others began babbling assurances that they certainly were, but Theo was not touched by their avowed, eternal gratitude. He waited until they ran out of avowals, then said to Gerry, “Sandy does have a point. What does Mr. D’Orsini do when not idling?”

  “Count D’Orsini, actually,” she said. “I really don’t know, Theo. He has a yacht that he takes out quite often, and entertains when the right people are in residence.”

  Dorrie gave Bitsy a conspiratorial smile, then turned to Gerry. “Perhaps it might be more appropriate if you invited him for a drink. You could mention Uncle Billy; I’m sure he’d be fascinated to meet the niece and nephew. They are so completely clever.”

  “I’ll stop by later in the afternoon and ask if he has plans for the cocktail hour. Where are you going this afternoon? Have you decided on a beach, or are you going to stay by the pool? If you venture out, you ought to have Eli drive you there and wait.”

  “I sent him on an errand,” Sandy said.

  “You and Trey seem to consider him your personal chauffeur,” Dorrie said. “He spends a great deal of time doing errands for you two. Had you mentioned it to me, I would have asked that he pick up six and four.”

  “Six and four?” Theo murmured gently.

  “Suntan lotion, Uncle Theo. I have plenty of sixteen for my nose and two for my back, but I’m going to have to use six on my shoulders until I’ve picked up some color. I want to risk four on the backs of my legs, although I may live to regret it.”

  “Are you using eight on your forehead?” Bitsy asked.

  They commenced a long, serious conversation about numbers and anatomy, and continued it as they went upstairs. Mary Margaret announced she was going to change for the beach, and if Eli didn’t get back damn tout de suite, she was going to be livid. Trey and Sandy wandered away, leaving Theo and Gerry across from each other.

  Theo frowned as he considered the conversation he’d overheard the previous night. Something about it had sounded—well, a bit off. It had disturbed him, although he could not quite put his finger on the cause of his uneasiness. He lectured himself into a more charitable frame of mind.

  “You say this D’Orsini is an old friend of yours, Gerry? You’re familiar with his family and history?”

  “He swears he can trace his family back to Caesar Augustus and then some, and the title to the sixteenth century. I don’t believe more than a fraction of it, but I do know he’s basically harmless, charming, and always willing to accept a free martini. He’s also way too old for these college girls.”

  “I’m not sure they agree with you. They were watching him earlier today while he was swimming, and they seemed to be interested in what th
ey observed.”

  “He is attractive, and insists on doing laps in the nude. But please don’t worry about him, Theo; he’ll be impeccably dressed in time for cocktails. Shall I suggest that he drop by at six this evening?”

  “I suppose so,” Theo said, tugging at the tip of his beard as he looked over the tops of palm trees to the delphinium blue of the Caribbean. He was not delighted at the prospect of meeting Count D’Orsini, but he suspected he had little choice.

  Gerry said she would call later and went to her station wagon. Before she could get in, Eli drove up the driveway in the beige car. She motioned for him to join her in the shade of the house.

  “You seem to be spending quite a lot of time fetching ice from the store,” she said in a cool voice. “Amelia and Emelda could pick some up in the mornings on the way to work; their bus stop is next to a store.”

  “I’m just doing what this group tells me, Miz Greeley. They say go here, Eli, go there, Eli, go get newspapers and suntan lotion, Eli. They have enough suntan lotion to slide this villa right down the mountainside and into the water. But I’m supposed to do what they say, right?”

  “You’d better keep your nose clean if you want to keep this job. There are plenty of boys who’d gladly take over your quarters and cushy duties. You’re still in a probation period, Eli, and you need to pay attention to your work. Count D’Orsini mentioned that you were skulking around his yard earlier this morning, but I see you didn’t mow.”

  “I was working in the flower bed down by the fence, and I didn’t get to it, Miz Greeley,” he said with an obsequious smile.

  “And in the flower bed beneath his living room window?”

  “I just raked out the leaves, Miz Greeley. But no problem about mowing the grass. I do it late this afternoon, once everybody back from beach.”

  “See that you do. In the future, whenever you work in Count D’Orsini’s yard, knock on the kitchen door and tell the cook that you’re there. I will not tolerate this skulking nonsense.” Gerry got into her station wagon, slammed the door, and backed down the driveway at what Theo felt was a perilous speed.