by Glenna Mason
Claire, caught off guard, recovered quickly and seconded the impromptu invitation. “Of course, six-thirty, next Tuesday at our house,” Claire said, raising her brandy glass in a toast.
That settled, Elizabeth, hearing the pianist beginning “Just in Time,” queried, “Shall we dance?”
Jimmy Joyce never got to host the Tuesday dinner. He was struck down and killed on Thursday morning, as he retrieved his paper, by a hit and run driver at the end of his own driveway.
CHAPTER TEN
Elizabeth got a late start on her chores Thursday morning, having spent an exhausting Wednesday afternoon putting everything back after the party. Therefore, she was still out in a far field, when she saw Maria and her stallion, Prince Igor, racing towards her. Elizabeth knew that something disastrous had happened.
Elizabeth spun Gypsy in Maria's direction and galloped to meet her friend half way.
“Lizzy, come quickly. There has been a dreadful accident!”
Elizabeth's heart almost stopped.
“It’s Jimmy Joyce—he's been hit by a car,” Maria screamed, even though the two riders were side-by-side now. “And, Lizzy, he’s dead.”
Elizabeth, stunned, gasped in disbelief, then reached across the horses and clasped her lovely, frightened neighbor in a tight embrace.
“A hit and run, Lizzy. He didn’t even stop. How could he not stop?”
Elizabeth tightened her embrace, supporting the sobbing Maria. It became difficult to breathe; she too was on the verge of a hysterical response. Elizabeth's mind reeled. Her best friend at work, her neighbor across the street, her beloved associate gone in a flash—the magnitude struck full force—forever.
“I'll never see him again,” Elizabeth bewailed silently.
The well-schooled horses stood perfectly still, as if in commiseration with their riders.
Finally Maria raised her head and said, “I must get back, Lizzy. Claire has asked me to help her with calls.”
The two started back toward the Bennet barn at a trot. On the way, Maria described what little she knew. “Jimmy Joyce was taking his morning constitutional, as he does every morning, rain or shine. He jogs three laps up and down his long driveway; then he retrieves the paper from the box on Pope Road and walks back up the driveway to cool down.”
Maria haltingly continued, “Today a vehicle struck him and the paper box. I misspoke earlier when I said a car, because it was probably something much heavier, as it flattened Jimmy Joyce and flung the box—oh!”
“It's okay, Maria. You can tell me later,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, Lizzy, it is just too horrible to comprehend. Can't we just turn the clock back to say six and start this day anew? Maybe Jimmy Joyce would be at the box a few seconds earlier and live to be a hundred.”
“Oh, Maria, I wish we could. If I were penning it, we would!”
“Claire asked me to get you, Jane and Kitty. So when I discovered you were still in the field, I totally panicked, raced home, saddled Prince and rode out for you. It was precipitous of me—so unnecessary. I see that now,” Maria said. “Another half hour would have made no difference, but, Lizzy, I had no sense. For perhaps the first time in my life, I was jarred totally off-balance.”
Maria, who had been speaking in staccato, jerky and breathless, reined in Prince Igor and pulled him to an abrupt halt. Elizabeth stopped Gypsy and waited for her companion's lead.
Maria, looking sightlessly across the fields, breathed deeply, inhaling the clear morning air. Elizabeth, fascinated, watched Maria regain composure, apparently regenerated with each new breath.
Finally no longer out of control, Maria placed her hand on Elizabeth's arm. “I apologize, Lizzy. I know I frightened you terribly. You thought something had happened to one of your family. Jimmy Joyce is bad enough, but I know I gave you a horrendous shock. Forgive me please.”
“My precious friend, I am glad you felt the need to have me with you immediately,” Elizabeth said. “I love you so very much.” Tears welled in both their eyes.
“The ride has actually done me some good, Lizzy. The force of Prince Igor sailing over the fences combined with the steady pounding of his hoof beats on the solid earth is just what I needed. I feel better—grounded again, even. Now I can do what Claire wants me to do with some semblance of calm.”
Maria sighed lightly. Elizabeth sensed that Maria was indeed back to normal.
“I’m glad. Claire will need us to be strong.”
“Yes, Lizzy, we must think of Claire now,” Maria said, as she kicked Prince into a fast walk. “I am ready to be a steady hand.”
When the two riders reached the Bennet barn, Elizabeth said, “Why don't you go on to Claire’s? I'll just change and meet you at the Carstairs’ home in a few minutes.”
Maria nodded and rode off without a further word. Elizabeth handed her reins to the surprised groom, gave him a series of short, direct commands, and rushed out of the barn without a glance back.
Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth, showered and attired in an austere black skirt and sweater, found the Carstairs’ front door standing wide open. Hearing voices, she followed them to the Carstairs' family room, where she found a weeping Claire surrounded by her neighbors, Jewell, Carol and Maria.
“Elizabeth, I’m so glad you’re finally here,” Claire cried out, with such an exaggerated emphasis on the “finally” that Elizabeth suddenly felt guilty she’d taken time to shower.
“The police believe Jimmy Joyce was killed on impact. Thank God he didn’t suffer, Elizabeth. Oh-h-h,” Claire wailed.
”The villain didn't even stop,” Claire said, as she reached a hand toward Elizabeth. Elizabeth took Claire's hand in both of hers and patted it gently. Kitty arrived at the doorway. She stood there quietly observing. She and Elizabeth locked eyes and nodded at each other.
Seeing the tears continue to stream down Claire's face, Elizabeth whispered to Maria, “Where is Jane? Claire needs a sedative. Desperately! Now!”
“I haven't been able to speak to Jane. Her office wouldn’t put me through, but I left an urgent message on her voice mail and on her pager,” Maria whispered back.
The two conversed softly as Elizabeth continued to hold Claire's trembling hand. Maria explained, “When Jimmy Joyce didn't come back in forty-five minutes, Claire went out looking for him; he was always so proud that he could do the run in twenty. She called EMS, but Claire is a smart woman; she knew he was gone.”
Maria inhaled a long strong breath. “Claire was hysterical when she called me. She asked me to get you, Kitty and Jane. Claire then called Carol, who called Jewell. That is all I have been able to confirm.”
Screeching tires sounded on the drive; within seconds Jane Bennet Bingley hurried into the room, her black doctor's bag in her hand.
“I'm sorry, Claire. I was in a consultation with a patient and had left instructions not to be disturbed under any circumstance. Of course my poor staff didn't realize that I had exceptions to the 'under no circumstances' order,” Jane said.
“Now lay back, Claire. You must have something to relax you a little. I don’t want you to go into shock.” Jane extracted a needle and phial from the bag and gave Claire a shot.
In a short time, Claire lay down on her sofa. The others watched Claire’s puffed eyes close and her breath slow.
“Ladies,” Claire mumbled, her eyes still closed, “I appreciate your coming over, but I think I'll just rest a little now, please.”
“Yes, Claire,” Jane agreed, “that is exactly what you should do,” motioning the others to the door.
“I'd like to be alone today now. It will be a hectic week coming up. I must gather my resources to face it. Being the introspective poet I am, I know I must have solitude to find the strength. I hope you all understand. I . . .” Claire was getting groggy.
“Of course, Claire,” they agreed, edging toward the door.
“I'll expect to see you tomorrow then?” she murmured.
“Absolutely,” they all sa
id.
As the five ladies eased out of the room, a small flicker of a smile fleetingly flashed across Claire's tear-streaked face. Then she fell peacefully asleep.
In the front hall the friends conferred briefly. Maria explained that she had a long list of people to contact for Claire. Jewell and Carol volunteered to help her with the list. Everyone agreed to host some of the visitors that would pour into Claysmount. Carol volunteered to call the remaining Pope Road neighbors and secure more bedrooms. They knew that with Jimmy Joyce's fame and popularity, the people arriving to pay Jimmy Joyce their last respects would be international in scope and numerous in numbers.
Elizabeth decided it was her duty to go to the university immediately to inform the president that he had lost his most famous professor. She also intended to stop at the police station to see if they had any idea what could have happened. Elizabeth was getting downright tight with the Richmond police. The death of her colleague was a vehicular manslaughter—at a minimum—a crime with a prison sentence attached.
Standing together on the Carstairs’ porch the six held hands in a moment of silent prayer and reflection, bracing for a day they never expected to face.
Then four left to fulfill their promised duties, Maria mounting Prince Igor, the others driving away. Kitty stayed. She knew Elizabeth was devastated and needed her support. Kitty also had doubts about the official version of the story. Something didn’t fit. Maybe her mystery oriented sister could assuage her concerns.
Kitty and Elizabeth lingered a few minutes on Jimmy Joyce's porch. Elizabeth had a hard time letting him go, since of the six, she knew him the best and loved him the most. They saw each other every work day and often on the week-ends.
“Oh, Jimmy Joyce,” she asked, “how will I cope without you?” She understood a piece of her life's puzzle was now missing and would never be found and could never be replaced. The tears involuntarily flowed from her beautiful blue eyes. Kitty placed her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder and said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”
When they reached the coupe, Kitty kissed Elizabeth on the cheek and said, “Lizzy, please check out the scene carefully. You know how analytical I am, and, Lizzy, I sense something untoward happened there this morning. It does not look like the promiscuous actions of a hit and run driver. It looks like a malicious, purposeful hit—hit, Lizzy, not hit and run. Please use your mystery mantra and prove me wrong.”
Despairing, Elizabeth drove down the long Carstairs’ driveway to confront the wreckage at its end. Elizabeth had been so intent on getting to Claire, when she'd arrived, that she had barely noticed the considerable damage at the road's edge.
She was taken aback. The mailbox, as well as the paper box, was completely uprooted. Both, mangled almost beyond recognition, had been thrown against the fence; the top rail of the fence was broken in half. Elizabeth exited her coupe to survey the destruction, which was roped off with yellow police tape.
Large ruts ran along the easement for several yards, leading directly to where the mailbox and paper box once stood to the left of the driveway's entrance. To get his paper, Jimmy Joyce would have had to stand perilously close to or actually on the roadway itself. It would have been still fairly dark.
Surveying the tracks, Elizabeth could tell they were too massive for an automobile, much more likely the tires on a fairly large farm truck of some kind. Following the tracks along Pope Road, Elizabeth could find no evidence that the truck, once off the pavement, made any effort to regain control and get back on the road. The truck actually drove half off the road for a surprisingly long distance—multi-yards. A drunk at seven in the morning? A dope head? Someone asleep at the wheel? Whatever the cause might have been, the truck had made a beeline for Jimmy Joyce and his paper box.
What! A truck aimed at Jimmy Joyce? Was Kitty correct? Could it have been on purpose? Who? Why? No, unthinkable! Who would have wanted to harm a college professor? And a James Joyce one at that? Who could possibly have been more innocent, other-worldly even, than Jimmy Joyce Carstairs? And yet what kind of madman would not even try to re-enter the roadway?
“Just a cruel quirk of fate,” Elizabeth said. “Nothing more, nothing less.” For once in her life, her keen sense of mystery seemed stagnant. Was she just too numb to want to think about what could have happened?
Just as she was about to get back in the car, Elizabeth happened to notice a small stand of scraggly evergreen trees, a little past the spot where the vehicle had left the road. She walked over to them. They were on the near side of an access road. “Of course,” Elizabeth said, “the Carstairs lane up to their unused tobacco barn. I pass it so often that I never even notice it any more—too familiar—too unused.”
On closer inspection, Elizabeth decided that the large truck had probably been on this road, because gravel was spewed along Pope Road and into the grass on both sides of the access road. It looked as if the truck had exploded from the gravel drive and then driven furiously on the grass verge, until it came in contact with Jimmy Joyce and his mail box. Elizabeth frowned. She remembered Kitty’s admonition. Her mind raced; her sense of the mysterious came flooding back.
“How convenient,” she thought. She noticed that the trees provided a cover for a vehicle observing the entrance to the Carstairs’ driveway. They were easy to see through and yet the cedar branches provided a nice camouflage. “Maybe someone did purposely wait here for Jimmy Joyce?” Elizabeth said. She now understood the reasoning behind Kitty’s well-schooled observations and apprehensions.
But once again, she doubted their interpretation of the scene of the crime. “Highly unlikely,” Elizabeth decided. “There is some other simple explanation.” Her main objection was motive. Once again she could find no reality in the premise that anyone would want to purposely kill Dr. Carstairs. Elizabeth had seen all she needed to see. She headed back down Pope Road to her car.
Driving toward EKU, her hair flying in the stiff March wind, Elizabeth reprimanded herself. “Elizabeth Bennet, you are getting a mystery-generated paranoia. You’ve even infected Kitty with your mistrustful attitude. You must go to the library and check out a few romance novels. Send your life in a new direction, girl.”
Speeding onto the campus, she said, “I know one thing. I rue the day I ever yearned for a mystery to solve. Romance novels—that's the ticket! You could do with a lot less mystery and a little more romance in your life, Elizabeth Francine Bennet.”
She parked in the faculty parking lot, unhappy with the chore ahead of informing the EKU administration that they had lost their star faculty member.
*****
By Friday afternoon Pope Road was alive with activity, as friends and family of James Joyce Carstairs began to arrive to support his wife Claire and to attend his funeral on Monday at the largest Catholic Church available in Lexington and his wake at Sir William Lucas's house, following the burial at the Richmond Cemetery.
Elizabeth's parents were to fly in from New Zealand on Sunday and Rene Chevalier would arrive with his entourage of friends, as already planned, on Saturday morning. “Je aime Monsieur Carstairs,” he telegraphed in regret and sympathy.
For the second time in less than a week, Claysmount, Kentucky was front page news. Headlines blared everything from “College Prof Dies in Hit and Run Accident” to “Maniac Loose in Central Kentucky” to “Mayhem Strikes Tiny Kentucky Community.”
The television crews and the reporters again descended on Claysmount. No one offered them a line, except Chief Clem, who did say, “No comment.”
If only they had only known how hard their newly concentrated arrival was going to make it for Sir William to leave his property the next morning unnoticed. If only they had only known, what a scoop someone might have had.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As the little community and the voracious press corps devoured the news of celebrities and dignitaries, arriving by the carload for the Dr. James Joyce Carstairs’ funeral mass, Sir William quietly disappeared Saturday morning
in a small horse van, just as privately instructed.
Meanwhile Elizabeth and Kitty went shopping for supplies for the party to welcome Sir William, Alexis and Junie home. Maria had decided that the party should go ahead as planned. Jimmy Joyce wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Sir William, the unsuspecting guest of honor, promised to contact Maria as soon as the kidnappers gave the go ahead, which would be at some point on his way home.
That would be the signal for the phone tree alliance of to extend the invitations as quickly as possible.
Maria had devised a password for all the guests to use: Junie and Alexis. She didn’t want the ubiquitous press crashing the homecoming celebration.
Just like a child's surprise party, everyone would hide in the barn. When the van arrived, the guests would rush out, singing “For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.”
The tables would then be set up, and the food and drinks brought out. Sir William would be very pleased, or so his daughter was confident. “Daddy needs to be cheered up after this ordeal, and I intend to see that it happens.”
Maria knew her dad and felt that, despite his stalwart acceptance of the demand for ransom, he could really use a little frivolity to lift his spirits on his return. “After all,” she noted, “no one, not even Sir William Lucas, is immune to the loss of hundreds of thousands of dollars in hard-earned cash.”
Elizabeth, Kitty and Maria met amongst the mounds of groceries on Saturday morning in Jane's well-equipped, gourmet kitchen to chop, slice and dice.
Maria would not even involve her trusted cook Rosa in the preparations, because she knew the officious reporter types milling around could use all sorts of duplicitous incentives and charms to get information from unsuspecting innocents. “Fame,” Maria pointed out, “while fleeting and usually fruitless, is nonetheless as sticky as flypaper for some and just as deadly.”
