The Arms of Death

by Maggie Foster

  “I may have an idea,” she said.

  “What can you do?” one of them asked, her fear spilling over into rudeness.

  “Nothing, probably.” Ginny stood up and collected her purse. “But it’s worth a try.”

  She hurried out to the parking lot. If the CDC was worried enough to send an investigator the same day they got the call, chances were good that what they suspected was no ordinary virus. She decided she would have to do some research, but not today. Hal would not forgive her if she was late to the party.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  Friday Evening

  Ginny stood in front of the mirror and studied her reflection. The brown velvet had been a good choice. It lay against the pale skin she had gotten from her Viking ancestors and made it seem rosy.

  She captured a stray curl and secured it with a bobby pin. She knew it would be loose again before the night was over, but she wanted to be presentable, at least at first. There would be some at the party who would be glad of an excuse to criticize.

  Her movements set the amber necklace swaying, catching the light, exploding like a small sun into primordial life. The pendant had been a gift from a Nigerian patient. Ginny had added a string of beads and a gold clasp to make the jewel that now sparkled against her white throat.

  She stroked the velvet one last time, turning slightly to make sure the lines fell smoothly to the floor, then gathered up her purse and headed out.

  * * *

  Ginny turned into the sweep drive and pulled up in front of Hal’s modest mansion. A valet, hired for the occasion, took her car and drove off. She climbed the wide brick steps, and reached for the heavy brass knocker, smiling again at the whimsy that had placed a baronial entrance on what was really a farmhouse in the middle of Texas.

  Hal’s mother had adored English antiques. The knocker was typical of the souvenirs she’d brought back from her travels. It was a lovely thing, shaped like a lion’s head holding a wreath in its mouth, its expression both fierce and noble. Ginny’s fingers caressed the patina as she lifted it and let it fall.

  The sound boomed in the hallway beyond and the door was opened by a white-haired, immaculately dressed manservant. She smiled at the ancient family retainer and stepped past him into the entry, allowing him to take her wrap.

  “Good evening, Mason. Is everything ready for the party?”

  “Yes, Miss Forbes. Mr. Williams is waiting for you by the pool.”

  “Thank you.”

  She let herself out onto the patio and Hal, elegant in black tie, came forward to greet her.

  “Ginny! At last! The guests have started to arrive and you must help me entertain them. Come let me introduce an old friend of mine. May I present James Mackenzie? Virginia Forbes.” They exchanged how-do-you-dos and in the back of Ginny’s mind she wondered where she had heard that name before.

  “Jim was a college classmate,” Hal explained, “and Ginny is one of the many genealogists you can expect to meet this evening. Now, if you two will excuse me, I must go attend to my duties.”

  Ginny looked at the stranger — a tall blonde with warm gray eyes and a pleasant, open face — and decided she could do worse for her first assignment of the evening.

  “You’re a genealogist?” He seemed to be having trouble believing it.

  Ginny nodded. “As were my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother before me.” Her turn to ask a question. “You and Hal were in school together?”

  “We were in the same class at the University of Virginia.”

  “A good school.” Ginny nodded her approval. “And it’s so nice to have someone to visit if one needs a bed for the night.”

  He laughed. “Not guilty. I have relatives in the area so I don’t need to impose on Hal.”

  “Then you haven’t seen the house?”

  “No.”

  “It’s rather special. Come, let me give you the grand tour.” She slipped her hand through his arm.

  “The front rooms,” she began, “you will have already seen, although you should go back and look at the Sargent hanging over the stair if you missed it. It’s genuine and a good example of his work. The house was originally built around 1870 and has all the best features of the period. The walls are quite thick, which acts as a natural form of insulation and the house is situated to catch the prevailing wind so it stays cool even in summer, even in pre-air-conditioned Texas. There was originally a sleeping porch, but that has been removed.”

  Ginny had conducted this tour many times for the local historical society and had learned about the house from its former mistress. She could still see Mrs. Williams’ eyes glowing as she described the care and planning that had resulted in this spacious and graceful structure.

  “The foundation of the house is made of bois d’arc stumps.”

  “Tree stumps?”

  She nodded. “The wood of the bois d’arc hardens as it ages. The bugs can’t eat it and it never warps, so it makes an ideal foundation. The hardwood floors and paneling are English oak, salvaged from some manor house being torn down to make way for progress. The staircase and entry too, but most of the house was made from local materials and by local talent, including the architect who did the basic design. All of the modern plumbing and electricity was added later, of course. You can still use some of the original gas jets, but I wouldn’t advise it.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be sure not to.”

  “There are one or two original pieces still in the house: the Scottish sideboard, for instance, which was brought to Texas by Hal’s great-great-grandparents.”

  “In a covered wagon?”

  “By ship. It was common for both people and possessions to come through the port of Galveston, then be taken up river by boat, then overland to their final destinations. Most of the furniture, however, has been collected from antique shops over the years. Not all of it by Mrs. Williams, I might add. You can’t blame her for the den. She used to say a man was entitled to his own follies in one room of the house.” Ginny stepped aside and let Jim precede her into the blatantly masculine retreat.

  He looked around, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I can see what she meant.”

  Ginny grinned and led him from the den into the library and from there into the great hall, where the rest of the evening’s guests were assembling.

  It was a handsome room, even when not decorated for a feast. The ceiling soared two stories above their heads, adorned with beams of dark wood and chandeliers of brass & crystal.

  Heavy banners in brilliant heraldic colors, each depicting an ancestor’s coat of arms, swayed in the breeze produced by recessed ceiling fans. The chairs surrounding the dining table bore the same designs, worked in needlepoint by several generations of the family.

  In the center of the room was a massive, heavily carved, oak refectory table, set for the formal meal that awaited the evening’s guests. There was no cloth between the place settings and the glittering dark wood. Instead, the china plates nestled upon brass chargers, the crystal glasses sat on embossed leather coasters, and the sterling dinnerware peeked from within white damask napkins. The centerpiece was made of dark green foliage and glowing chrysanthemums, dozens of them, cascading down the table in a controlled riot of autumn colors.

  Ginny led her charge across the room. “The fireplace was purchased in England and brought back to be incorporated into the house by Mrs. Williams. She had a good eye, don’t you think?” The arch of the mantle mirrored the entry and the vaulted ceiling, making a cohesive architectural unit of the room.

  He murmured agreement and reached out to touch the elegantly carved wood that surmounted the stonework. “Did the coat of arms come with it?”

  “No. Hal inherited the arms as well as the house when his father died.”

  “Inherited?”

  “Legitimate armorial achievements are the property of an individual,” Ginny explained. “No two persons may use the same arms during life. They are
treated as property, like the house.”

  “You seem to know quite a bit about it.”

  Ginny nodded. “I’ve been a docent here for several years. The house has a historical marker.”

  “And its family is ancient and noble.” Jim smiled down at her.

  Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Ancient, yes; noble, no. A solid English yeoman family, moderately well supplied with ancestral heroes, but cotton farmers here in America, as were most of the settlers in this area. It was Hal’s grandfather who made the fortune required to keep the house from being sold off at the same time the farm went under.”

  Jim frowned, staring up at the coat of arms. “How does Hal manage to afford the taxes and upkeep?”

  “I have never asked him,” Ginny replied, a bit stiffly.

  “You astonish me.” Jim turned his back on the elegant mantel, his eyes focusing on her. “I thought you two had an understanding?”

  Ginny blinked at the abrupt change of subject. It was a very personal question and none of this stranger’s business, but she could think of no reason why she shouldn’t answer honestly.

  “We’re not engaged, if that’s what you’re asking.” She saw a flicker of something in his eyes, though his face remained impassive.

  “But you expect to be.” In spite of the mild tone in which the statement was delivered, it was a shrewd observation, much too shrewd for comfort, and the intelligence showing in his gray eyes did nothing to add to her composure.

  She tipped her head sideways and batted her eyelashes at him. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

  Jim’s brow wrinkled for a moment then, “Pride and Prejudice,” he exclaimed.

  She nodded. “Correct.”

  He grinned down at her, his eyes twinkling. “I have a quote for you, too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. ‘Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.’”

  Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “Twelfth Night,” she said, “and I hope you meant nothing personal by that.”

  He shrugged, still grinning. “Well, let’s put the best possible face on it, then. ‘There was a weddin’ o’er in Fife, an’ many a one frae Lothian at it—’”

  “Hush!” Ginny went scarlet. “Robbie Burns.”

  Jim burst out laughing. “You know that one, do you?”

  “Yes. Now, for Heaven’s sake, behave yourself.”

  Ginny turned to face Hal, who was coming towards them across the room. He zigged between the guests with a word here, a gesture there, leaving a suave wake in his path.

  “Ginny!” He was laughing. “You must come rescue me.”

  “What do you need rescuing from?”

  “Whom.”

  “All right, whom then?”

  “The Dragon. She’s been tailing me around the house for twenty minutes.”

  Ginny put her hand up in warning. “She’s right behind you. Turn around and be nice.”

  “All right, but at least loan me your protective presence. She won’t stay if she thinks we’re together.” Hal turned, placing himself on Ginny’s right so that she stood directly under the centerpiece of the room, a handsome man on either side.

  “Have I told you, by the way, that you look lovely tonight?” Hal whispered in her ear.

  “No, you have not.”

  “That color suits you.”

  Ginny smiled at the approaching woman, already upon them, and waited to be addressed. The older woman looked at her uncertainly, then at the man on her left, then turned to face Hal.

  “Mr. Williams, I just wanted to thank you on behalf of all of us for the use of your lovely home. It’s magnificent and I can’t think of a better setting for our little party.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Campbell. I am delighted to be of service.” Hal gestured to Ginny. “You know Miss Forbes, I believe?”

  Mrs. Campbell nodded and smiled a bit too broadly. “Of course. She has been helping us out with the conference. So nice to see you again, Miss Forbes.”

  “Good evening, Mrs. Campbell.” Ginny conjured up her most charming smile.

  Hal gestured in Jim’s direction. “This is an old schoolmate of mine. Jim Mackenzie.”

  “I’m so glad to meet you Mr. Mackenzie.”

  “Doctor. How do you do?”

  Ginny blinked and glanced at the man on her left in surprise. Now where had she heard that name before? Before she could pin it down, Hal drew Ginny’s arm through his.

  “Miss Forbes is acting as official hostess tonight in lieu of my mother, and I don’t know how I could have managed without her.”

  Mrs. Campbell threw herself into the trap. “Oh my dear boy! We all miss your mother so much. She was a great woman and such a staunch supporter of all our little endeavors.” She brushed at the corner of her eye. “I’m sure this young woman will agree with me. No one can ever take her place.”

  “Of course, not.” Ginny answered sweetly. “One would be a fool to try.”

  The Dragon gave her a sharp look, then glanced at Hal. “Yes,” she said. “Well. If you will excuse me, I must go take care of, uh, things. The awards, you know. We’ve had to make some last minute changes to accommodate Professor Craig’s death.” She shook her head from side to side. “Such a shocking development,” she said with apparent satisfaction. “Well, I must go. Please, excuse me.” She smiled at Hal and sketched a small shrug of apology.

  “Of course. Please let me know if there is anything you need.”

  “Thank you. I will,” she said and hurried off.

  Hal turned his back on the room and faced the other two, his serene public face dissolving into a wide grin. “Two points to Ginny!”

  “What’s the joke?” Jim asked.

  “Before her death, my mother held the position that woman now has and during the entire time Mother was in office, Mrs. Campbell proclaimed how much better she could do the job, if only she got the chance. And you, my sweet, parried her venomous tongue without batting an eyelash.”

  Ginny shook her head. “I shouldn’t have let her bait me.”

  Hal laughed. “She shouldn’t condescend to anyone, but especially not to you.”

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  Friday Evening

  Ginny glanced up as the door to the powder room opened and a thin, middle-aged woman in a pale yellow, tea-length dress entered. She smiled into the mirror and the reflection of Elaine Larson smiled back.

  Ginny knew the assistant librarian moderately well, but only through the library. She was from South Carolina, as were many of Ginny’s ancestors, and had been of particular genealogical help more than once. Ginny liked listening to the slow, southern vowels that rolled off Elaine’s tongue and the soft-spoken manner in which she handled even the toughest library visitor.

  “Hiding?” Elaine asked, dropping into the other chair.

  “Sort of. I needed a break before the dinner begins.”

  Elaine nodded. “It’s quite an affair. I almost didn’t come after hearing what happened to Professor Craig.”

  Ginny nodded. “It’s probably better this way. ‘The show must go on’ and all that.”

  “Yes, well, Mrs. Campbell isn’t going to let anything stop her, that’s for sure.”

  “So who’s going to get Professor Craig’s job?” Ginny asked, concentrating on her makeup.

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I am. Probably. They’ve put me in as acting head. It will have to go before the board and be voted on before it can be made official, but I’ve been told that’s just a formality.”

  “Oh, Elaine! I’m so happy for you. This will be a great help to you professionally, won’t it?”

  “Yes, it will. I’m just sorry it had to happen this way instead of his retiring or something of that sort.”

  Ginny shook her head. “You mustn’t let that upset you. People die and the jobs have to be filled. Don’t give it another thought.”

  Elaine nodd
ed. “I guess I feel guilty because he and I didn’t always get along. It’s as if his ghost is hanging over me, frowning.”

  Ginny looked up and caught the other women’s eye. “Focus on the good you’ll be able to do now.”

  Elaine smiled. “I do have a few things I’d like to try.”

  “I thought you might. Well,” Ginny sighed. “I’d better get back so dinner can start. I have to lift the first fork and would you believe the whole thing is choreographed? Timed right down to the last minute.”

  “Hang on, I’ll come with you.”

  As the two made their way back into the main body of the house, Elaine froze.

  “Oh, look! There he is!”

  “Who?” Ginny asked.

  Elaine gestured at a stout, ruddy-complexioned man with a meticulously groomed full beard and moustache who might have been handsome but for the expression on his face. He lowered over the man to whom he was speaking, his mouth stretched in a smile, his eyes angry.

  “That man was at the library on Wednesday making the most ungentlemanly fuss.”

  “Tell me everything.” Ginny listened shamelessly, aware that gossip was a sin and an unreliable one at that, but unwilling to be left out of the loop.

  “There were a pair of them. First there was the process server.”

  “Process server?” Ginny’s eyes grew wider.

  “Yes. He came in quietly enough, asking which one was Professor Craig, and I pointed him out, not thinking anything about it. We get people asking for him all the time.”

  “Of course. Go on.”

  “Well, the next thing I knew, they were face to face in the middle of the room. He requested a positive identification from the Professor, then handed him a sheaf of papers, explained he was being sued, wished him a good day, turned on his heel, and walked out leaving us all standing there with our mouths open.”

  “Sued? What for?”

  “Breach of contract.” Elaine nodded in the direction of the stranger. “As soon as the process server left, that man—one Mr. Samuel Adams, as it turned out—stepped forward and started making accusations. He pointed his finger at Professor Craig saying he was dissatisfied with the results of the research and was suing to recover his money.