Her tone was sharp. The reply, clipped and to the point. It was the kind of answer Reginald Gordon might have allowed her to give if he’d been presiding over our conversation. Thank goodness he wasn’t, because I wanted more.
“Harriet, you’re not talking to the police now. This is me, your partner. We’re supposed to be working together, remember?”
She didn’t say anything.
I kept talking. “You sent me to speak with your neighbors. You wanted me to learn things. And I did. That was the whole point, right?”
“I guess,” she replied. “But it’s still an awful feeling. Imagine if it was your life that was being dissected like this.”
“I’d hate it just as much as you do,” I agreed. “But right now, we’re not worrying about that. We can’t afford to worry about it. We have bigger problems—like making sure you don’t lose your job and keeping you out of jail. Now talk to me.”
For a minute, there was only silence. Faith and I played “catch the fingers” on the duvet as I waited Harriet out.
“There was an incident with my mailbox,” she said finally.
That wasn’t what I’d expected to hear. “What happened?”
“One evening not too long ago, I came home to find Ralph standing in a big hole in my garden. He told me he was digging an escape tunnel. He was covered in mud, and my front yard was a mess.”
I wondered where Bernadette had been while that was going on. Now that Harriet was finally talking, however, I didn’t want to interrupt.
“So I took Ralph home. I figured that he was on his own and that I’d probably have to get him settled in for the night. But to my surprise, Madison was at his house. She’d dropped by, and when her father wasn’t there, she hadn’t bothered to go looking for him.”
“I can see why that would make you angry,” I said.
“I’m not proud of losing my temper,” Harriet admitted. “But I gave her a piece of my mind. I told Madison she needed to step up and start taking care of Ralph because he clearly wasn’t capable of caring for himself.”
“What did she say to that?”
“Nothing. It was very odd. Madison just stood there and listened to me. When I was finished, she showed me to the door and locked it behind me.”
Despite what Bernadette had told me, I knew that wasn’t the end of it. I was still waiting to hear the part about the mailbox.
“The next morning when I walked outside to my car, I saw that my hand-painted bluebird mailbox had been smashed to pieces,” Harriet said. “It looked as though someone had taken a baseball bat to it.”
Well, crap.
“It’s almost Halloween,” I felt obliged to mention. “In my neighborhood, teenagers have been out playing pranks after dark.”
“That’s what Bernie said. She pointed out it wasn’t the first time we’d had property damage this time of year. But mine was the only mailbox on the whole block that had been touched.”
“Did you report the vandalism to the police?”
“There was no point,” Harriet said. “I didn’t have any proof who had done it.”
“But you had your suspicions.”
“Not suspicions,” she corrected me. “I knew who it was. And I was as mad as a wet cat.”
We both paused to let that thought sink in.
“I would hardly have killed Madison’s father because I was angry over a broken mailbox,” Harriet said after a minute.
“It doesn’t matter. The police could still use it against you.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” She sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to tell Reginald. When he took me on as a client, he made it quite clear that he hates surprises.”
Faith was growing bored. Apparently listening to my conversations with Aunt Peg was more exciting. She leaned over, rested her head on my shoulder, and closed her eyes. Her ear hair tickled my cheek.
“There’s something else,” I said.
“Now what?” Harriet didn’t sound happy.
“Did Madison ask you to help her get a job at Howard Academy?”
“Not exactly. It was more like she kept hinting about what a good fit she would be at HA. Doing what, I have no idea—she didn’t specify and I didn’t ask. She said that after all the years I’ve worked there, surely I must have some influence I could use.”
“You turned her down,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“I tried. She didn’t want to hear it. So I started pretending I was deaf whenever the topic came up. Who told you about that?”
“Earlier, when I was talking to your sister, Hugh brought it up.”
“Hugh did?” Harriet wasn’t pleased.
“Yes.”
“He was there too?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, though it hardly seemed necessary. I couldn’t have been talking to him if he wasn’t. But Harriet’s emphasis on that fact made her annoyance doubly clear.
“There’s no reason why Hugh needs to be poking around in my private business,” she said flatly. “He has some nerve.”
“What does Hugh do for a living?” I asked.
“I don’t know exactly. He was vague about the details when I asked. Bernie thinks he’s some kind of real estate hotshot. But then, she believes everything he says. Whatever his job is, it seems to leave him plenty of free time to hang around my house.”
“Hugh doesn’t think much of Howard Academy,” I said. “He called it a school for the children of the rich and famous.”
“Yes, he does that.” Harriet snorted. “Just between us—he’s not entirely wrong. But still, the description stings, as I’m sure it’s meant to. Denigrating the school is his way of getting back at me.”
“For what?” I asked.
“When I first met him, Hugh was fascinated by my connection to HA. He wanted me to tell him all about the wealthy and influential families whose children are enrolled there. He even seemed to think I might be persuaded to arrange an introduction or two. Of course I wasn’t having any of that nonsense. I clammed up and refused to play his game.”
“He’s an idiot,” I said.
“I know that. But unfortunately, Bernie doesn’t.”
It was time to wrap things up.
“So you’ll talk to Reginald tomorrow about the things we’ve discussed?” I asked.
“I guess I’ll have to. Frankly, it seems ridiculous. The issues I had with Madison were nothing more than petty squabbles. If Ralph hadn’t died, and my life wasn’t being examined so minutely, no one would even remember they happened.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Trixie remembered. So had Kent and Hugh. If Ralph hadn’t died, maybe they wouldn’t have spoken about what they knew. But they’d have remembered.
* * *
The following morning, I was scheduled to see a new student during third period. There was a quick knock on the door; then it opened right away. Cheryl Feeney came in. She was holding the hand of a small boy. I knew he was a first grader. Even so, he looked very young in his school uniform of navy blue pants, white button-down shirt, and striped tie.
Cheryl smiled at me as they crossed the room. The boy didn’t look up. I wondered if he was shy, or just uncomfortable.
“This is Luke Chism,” Cheryl said in a cheery voice. “You and he are going to be doing some reading together.” She nudged the boy forward. “Luke, isn’t there something you’d like to say to Ms. Travis?”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Travis.” He hesitated, then held out his hand for me to shake. He still hadn’t looked up.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Luke. I’m sure we’re going to have fun together.”
“I guess so.” He sounded like he didn’t believe me.
Faith was lying on her bed, watching our interaction with interest. Usually, she waited for me to summon her before coming over to introduce herself. Now, however, she must have realized her presence was needed. The Poodle stood up, stepped daintily off the cedar-stuffed bed, and treated herself to a long, leisurely stretch.
Luke caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look and his gaze widened. Faith’s tail was already wagging. When she straightened back up again, her head was as high as Luke’s shoulder.
“She’s beautiful,” he said in awe. “What’s her name?”
“Faith. She’s a Standard Poodle.”
“Yes, I know.”
He knew? That was different. Nobody ever knew.
Cheryl and I shared a look.
“Is it all right if I pet her?” Luke asked eagerly.
“Of course,” I said. “She’d like that. Faith is very friendly.”
I expected Luke to wait for Faith to approach him. Instead, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, the boy went scampering over to where the Poodle was standing. Luke held out his hand and waited for Faith to sniff it.
“What a nice dog you are,” he crooned. “Do you want to be my friend?”
Faith lowered the front half of her body to the floor and woofed softly. As her tail whipped from side to side, her whole hindquarter wiggled. That was a definite yes.
When the Poodle popped back up, her head was between Luke’s outstretched arms. She licked his chin. Luke buried his face in her thick hair and gave her a hug.
Cheryl stared in astonishment as child and Poodle bonded with one another. I suspected she was reconsidering her initial impression of Faith.
“Now I get it,” she said after a minute.
I just smiled. This wasn’t the first time I’d watched Faith work her magic. The Poodle had a real gift, and I was grateful every day for her presence in my classroom.
“You don’t have to worry about Luke,” I said. “He’ll be fine here.”
“I can see that.” Cheryl lowered her voice before continuing. “It’s not that he isn’t smart, but he’s already falling behind in reading. He told me sometimes the letters jump around on the page. He’s going to need testing. You’ll know what to do.”
I did. And I’d be sure to take care of it.
“Is everything all set for the Halloween party tonight?” I asked. “I hope you haven’t seen any more ghosts.”
“Not a single one. Thank goodness it was you and not Harriet that I dragged up to the attic to have a look. I’d have hated to appear that dumb in front of her.”
“So the two of you are getting along well?”
“Sure, Harriet’s great.” Cheryl leaned in and confided, “I know she couldn’t have done those things the police suspect her of doing.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Did Harriet tell you about that?”
“Of course not. Harriet’s very discreet. And I wouldn’t dream of bringing up the topic in her presence. But the news is all over the school. Everybody’s whispering about it.”
How did everyone know about Harriet’s problems? I wondered when Cheryl had left. The media hadn’t named a suspect in their stories. I wasn’t talking. Harriet wasn’t talking. I knew for sure that Mr. Hanover wasn’t talking. So how had the news gotten out?
Chapter Fourteen
When Luke’s tutoring session ended, Faith and I escorted him back to his first-grade classroom. The little boy walked the entire way with his small hand resting on Faith’s withers. She didn’t mind at all.
When we reached our destination, Luke lifted the flap of the Poodle’s ear and whispered, “I’ll see you soon.” I loved that. It looked as though his sessions would be a big success in more ways than one.
Faith and I were gone from our classroom for less than ten minutes. Upon our return, a woman I didn’t recognize was standing beside my desk. She was thumbing through a stack of papers I’d left out. That was rude. I hoped she wasn’t a parent of one of my students. Although they usually knew better than to show up without an appointment.
The woman looked about my age, and was dressed in jeans and a woolen peacoat, which she hadn’t bothered to unbutton. Her hands were slender, with nails that were painted a shade of bright coral most women couldn’t carry off. With her dark hair and olive-toned skin, the color looked stunning.
“Hello,” I said, walking into the room. “Can I help you?”
She spun around. The frown on her face did nothing to enhance her good looks. “I certainly hope so. Are you Melanie Travis?”
“I am.” I sent Faith to her bed. The woman barely flicked her a glance. “And you are?”
“Madison Penders. I’ve come to tell you to stay the hell out of my life.”
Before replying, I stepped back and closed the classroom door. There was no need to broadcast this conversation. “How did you find me here?”
“You left me a message, remember? You said you worked at Howard Academy. Everybody in Greenwich knows about this place.”
“That’s true.” I tried out a smile to see if it would soften Madison’s expression. It didn’t. “But visitors are supposed to check in at the office. You are not allowed to go strolling around the school without an escort.”
“Nobody tried to stop me,” she said, shrugging. “The doors in the back of the building are unlocked.”
More’s the pity, I thought.
If Madison had entered through the mansion’s front door, she’d have run into Harriet. Then I’d have had some notice she was coming.
“I asked some lady where your classroom was, and she knew right away,” Madison said. “I guess you must be pretty well known around here. Maybe because you’re such a busybody.”
Either that, or because I was a well-liked member of the faculty. Personally, I was hoping for the latter.
“Would you like to have a seat?” I asked.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why?”
“Since we’re going to talk, I thought we might make ourselves comfortable.”
“What makes you think we’re going to talk?” Madison snapped. “I only came here to tell you to stop snooping around like some sort of cut-rate Nancy Drew. It’s bad enough my father is dead. But your stupid questions are just making things worse.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
“Really? Because it doesn’t seem that way. You could try showing a little respect.” Madison yanked out a chair and sat down. A minute earlier, I’d invited her to do so. Now I was no longer sure that was a good thing.
“It must have been hard losing your father so suddenly.”
“It was. But his death wasn’t nearly as bad as what came before it. Having to watch the father I loved, the man who’d filled my childhood with laughter, fading further away from me every day. By the end, I hardly even knew who he was anymore.”
“Dementia is a terrible impairment,” I agreed. “I know it must have been difficult for you.”
“Difficult.” Madison snorted. “I’ve spent the last three years following my father around. Picking up after him. Cleaning up after him. Trying to talk to a man who barely remembers who I am. Having my needs become totally secondary to his. Like what I want to do with my life doesn’t even matter anymore.”
She stared up at me angrily. “Don’t talk to me about difficult. Not unless you’ve ever been through something like that.”
“I haven’t,” I said. “I’ve been lucky.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.”
Madison jumped back to her feet. She began to pace back and forth across the room. Faith and I both eyed her warily.
“And I don’t need any of your fake sympathy either. You know what? My father’s death was a mercy. Because the way he’d been living wasn’t a real life. My father was a smart man once, one of the smartest I’ve ever met. Then his own brain betrayed him. Nobody should have to suffer through that.”
“I agree,” I said quietly. My sympathy had been well meant, but I wouldn’t attempt to offer it again.
“All I want now is for my father to rest in peace,” Madison growled. “But you keep stirring things up. I want you to leave us alone, understand? Why do you care who’s to blame for what happened anyway?”
“Harriet Bloom is my friend,” I said.
“She’s a suspect in your father’s death.”
“As she should be,” Madison retorted. “If she hadn’t given him those stupid marshmallow puffs, he would still be alive.”
“That’s not true,” I said evenly. “There was nothing wrong with the puffs when Harriet delivered them to your father’s house. Someone must have tampered with them after that.”
Madison’s face grew red. “Like who?” Her voice rose. “Like me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“You tell me. I know Harriet is innocent—”
“Lady, you don’t know squat.” She turned and headed for the door. “You think Harriet is innocent. But that doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
“I’m listening,” I said. “Tell me what I ought to know.”
“Try listening to this. Butt. Out. You got it?”
Madison slammed the door behind her. Faith and I both winced together. It was lucky the glass didn’t break. I’d have hated to have to explain that to Mr. Hanover.
Madison was clearly harboring a ton of anger and resentment. Even before his death, the father she’d loved had already been lost to her. She’d called his death a mercy.
Now that he was gone, Madison had her life back. And maybe her dreams restored as well. That sounded like reason enough to commit murder to me.
* * *
That afternoon, I went to see someone who spends more time thinking about wrongdoers than anyone I know: Detective Raymond Young of the Greenwich PD. I wasn’t taking any chances, so I called ahead and made an appointment. I figured there was always a chance he’d pretend to be out if I dropped by the station without warning.
The police station was in downtown Greenwich, so it wasn’t far from Howard Academy. I found a shady parking spot a block away on Mason Street, and left Faith chewing on a rawhide bone I’d hidden in the glove compartment that morning.
Detective Young and I had a bit of history. Some of our previous interactions had been pretty prickly. Other times, we’d managed to collaborate in ways that had been productive for both of us. I was hoping for the latter experience this time. Based on the brief conversation we’d had at Howard Academy, however, I was also braced to encounter the former.
Howloween Murder Page 10
