“Does the name ring a bell?”
“Of course,” she snapped. “Fingerhut is my maiden name. I imagine that doesn’t surprise you.”
No, it didn’t. But what did surprise me was the way Sally seemed to be taking the news in stride. Though she’d professed not to have heard about Krebbs’s bequests, I had the distinct impression that she not only already knew about her cousin’s will, but she’d also decided what her response was going to be.
“So now what?” I asked.
“As if I have a choice,” Sally muttered.
“Don’t you?”
“Not anymore. I’m fifty-three years old, and I’ve spent my entire life working in a profession I love that pays me a fraction of what I’m worth. I’m not stupid. I’ve lived frugally and put money aside. I was the kind of person who thought she was never going to have to depend on anybody for anything, you know what I mean?”
I nodded.
“Six years ago my mother developed Alzheimer’s. Three years ago I had to put her in a nursing home. Her health insurance doesn’t begin to cover the costs. I’m her only child. If I don’t take care of her, no one will. So I do.”
Sally sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. The only sense in which this is a burden is financially. I’m to the point now where if I found a wallet on the street, I’d probably keep it. Of course, I’ll take Krebbs’s money. I’d take the devil’s money if he offered it to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
“It’s not your fault. It’s just the way things are.” Sally spun around and walked away.
In a week when both a stash of drugs and a dead body had been found at the school, you had to wonder about a woman who’d said she deal with the devil if the price was right.
When I got to the Howard Academy dining room, the first person I saw was Jane. Standing near the buffet table, she was holding a glass of milk in one hand and a plate of finger sandwiches in the other. She was hesitating at the end of the table, gazing with naked longing at a tray filled with pastries and wishing, no doubt, for a third hand.
“Need some help?” I asked, walking over.
“No.” Her tone was sullen. “Why would I need any help?”
“I was thinking maybe you’d like an eclair or two to go with your sandwiches.”
“I figured I’d come back later. But you never know, they might be gone, so as long as you’re offering . . .”
I picked up an empty plate and selected several pastries from the tray. As I walked back to Jane, I noticed several people staring at the girl. For one thing, she was the only child in the room. For another, her attire was entirely inappropriate for the occasion.
But if Jane was aware of the attention she was receiving, she didn’t seem to care. By the time I got back to her, she’d already found a seat and polished off several sandwiches. She was licking her fingers when I sat down beside her.
“You’re not supposed to inhale those,” I said, handing her a napkin.
She placed the linen square on her lap, but didn’t look as though she planned to find much use for it. “They’re too small. Barely more than a bite apiece.”
“They’re delicate. You’re supposed to nibble at them delicately.”
“Nibbling is for gerbils.” Jane wolfed down another sandwich.
“And proper ladies.”
“No wonder it didn’t occur to me.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said.
“Why not? I heard Mr. Hanover say that everyone was welcome to come. So I came.”
The girl certainly got around. I wondered how many other tidbits of information she’d overheard while skulking around the school. “It’s just that I didn’t get the impression that you and Krebbs were friends.”
“So what? Nobody said that was a requirement. And the food around here is pretty good.”
“Mind if I join you?”
I looked up and saw Michael hovering above us, plate in hand.
“Not at all.” I pushed back the chair beside me, and made the introductions.
“I know who you are,” Michael said, eyeing Jane curiously. “You’re the girl who found . . .” Abruptly his voice died.
“Krebbs, yeah.” Jane finished for him. “That was me.”
“That must have been awful for you.”
“Must have been.” Jane’s snotty tone was back. I wondered if that was a response to adults in general, or to Michael in particular. As far as I knew, the two of them had never met.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Michael leaned toward Jane, trying valiantly to connect with the girl. I knew where he was coming from; it’s a teacher thing. “Finding a dead body would be a traumatic experience for anyone, let alone someone your age—”
“Here’s something really traumatic,” Jane said, shoving back her chair. “Krebbs wasn’t dead when I got there, so I got to see him die. I’m going to go get some more food.” She picked up her plate and left.
I glanced over at Michael. He looked pale. “Sorry about that,” I said.
“She’s a tough little cookie, isn’t she?”
“She thinks she is, anyway. Jane’s had a rough life, spent part of it living on the streets with her mother. Now her grandmother’s supposed to be taking care of her, but she seems to come and go as she pleases.”
“It’s a real shame.” Michael sighed. His plate was empty, and he pushed it aside. “I need a cup of coffee. You want some?”
“No, I’m fine.”
After he left, Jane returned. She’d filled a plate with a second helping of dessert and looked as though she could probably handle a third. “How come you’re not eating anything?” she asked as she sat back down.
“I’m going from here to a luncheon.”
“Well la-di-da.” Jane grinned. “That sounds pretty fancy. You’d better stock up here. They’re probably serving these stupid little sandwiches.”
“Not this luncheon. My Aunt Peg’s the hostess, and she can put away food like a longshoreman. That’s why I’m saving my appetite.”
“Is she the one with all the dogs?”
“The very same.”
“Wow. Can I come with you? You said I could meet her sometime.”
I thought for a moment. Ever since Aunt Peg had announced her intention to get me and Sheila together, I’d been dreading this meeting. Having Jane along might provide just the sort of distraction I needed.
“Two conditions,” I said.
“Let’s hear them.”
“You’ll have to ride in the backseat with Faith, and she’ll probably climb into your lap.”
“Okay.” Jane said eagerly. “What else?”
“We stop by your house first and make sure this is okay with your grandmother.”
Her face fell. “She won’t care, honest. She won’t even miss me. As long as I show up at home later, she’ll never even know I was gone.”
“Sorry,” I said. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“I guess I’ll take it.” Jane didn’t look happy.
“Great. I’m ready to go, how about you?”
“Just give me a sec.” She leapt up and headed back toward the buffet table. “I need one more eclair for the road.”
As I’d predicted, Faith immediately decided that Jane’s lap made the perfect pillow on which to drape the front half of her body. For her part, Jane didn’t look as though she minded a bit. As we turned out the gate at the foot of the driveway, she gave me directions to her grandmother’s house.
Two turns took us into a quiet residential neighborhood within walking distance of downtown Greenwich. The houses were post-World War II vintage, and the plots of land they sat upon were tiny. New, they’d probably cost twenty thousand dollars; now, thanks to the desirability of Greenwich real estate, they were worth twenty times that.
A one-way street took us down a hill before we were able to double back. Completing the maneuver, I realized that the same car had been behind us virt
ually since we’d left the school. It was a dark Acura Legend, the kind of pricey, yet understated car that I think of as the typical Greenwich sedan. It was far enough behind us that I couldn’t see the driver.
“There!” said Jane, directing me to a small, white clapboard Cape. Unlike most of its neighbors, the house didn’t boast any recent renovations, but the yard was neat, and the porch looked freshly swept.
I glanced in the rearview mirror again. The Acura was gone. I pulled in along the curb and rolled the windows down for Faith.
“I’m telling you this isn’t necessary,” Jane said, jumping out of the car.
I didn’t bother to argue. Instead, I followed as she headed past the front porch and down a narrow driveway that ran along the side of the house. Two concrete steps led to the back door. Jane tried the door and found it locked.
She produced a key from her pocket, opened the door and stepped inside. “Gran?”
A waist-high picket fence separated the house from the one beside it. Next door, a man who probably spent his weekdays toiling in a small office was spending his weekend toiling in his small backyard. March in Connecticut means spring cleanup. He was raking vigorously while a baby, sound asleep and bundled against the cold, swung in an electric swing.
“You looking for Mrs. Gaines?” he called. “She’s not home. I saw her go out earlier.”
Jane reappeared on the step. The man frowned slightly, as if trying to decide whether or not he recognized her. “You’re the granddaughter, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Jane wants to spend the afternoon with me. We were hoping to get permission from Mrs. Gaines.”
“Can’t help you there. But I don’t imagine she’d object. Why don’t you leave your name and telephone number with me? I’ll give her the message when she gets back.”
The solution pleased all of us. I scribbled the information on a piece of paper and gave it to him.
Back in the car, Jane made no attempt to hide her excitement. “How far is it?” she asked, then kept talking before I had a chance to answer. “Will we be there soon? Wow, eight dogs in one house. I can’t even imagine that. Does your aunt have any other animals? She doesn’t have any ponies, does she?”
“One question at a time,” I said, laughing. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. And no, she doesn’t have any ponies. But I think the dogs will be enough to keep you busy.”
“Are there going to be lots of people?”
“No,” I said. “Aside from my aunt, just one. Sheila is my fiancé’s ex-wife. She moved here recently because she’s hoping to get back together with him. Aunt Peg thought the two of us should meet.”
“Wow,” said Jane. “Just like a soap opera. This is going to be a blast.”
That was what I was afraid of.
Twenty
Before the Volvo had even rolled to a stop in Aunt Peg’s driveway, Jane had her seat belt off and her door open. She jumped out of the car, with Faith right behind her. I could hear Aunt Peg’s Standard Poodles barking inside the house; predictably, the door opened a moment later and the herd came streaming out.
Mine was the only car in the driveway, so Sheila had yet to arrive. It was just as well. One look at the manic greetings going on in front of the house and any sane person might have been tempted to run for her life.
Aunt Peg and I both reached the foot of the steps at the same time. Jane had thrown herself into the milling canine throng with glee. The Poodles, always eager for a new playmate, were happy to return her enthusiasm.
“Interesting child,” Peg said, as Jane lifted her nose to the sky and howled like a wolf. “I like her already.”
As the Poodles careened around us in wide circles, Faith came flying past. I heard Aunt Peg gasp. “Dear Lord! What on earth has happened?”
“We had a bit of an accident—”
“I’ll say.” Peg was not amused. She snapped her fingers and Faith immediately turned and raced back to her. My aunt has that effect on dogs and people alike.
Briefly she ran her fingers through the Poodle’s neck hair, flipping it one way, then another, as she inspected the damage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Yes, but—”
“You’ve put her out of the show ring for six months. And now, of all times, with five good judges coming up on the Cherry Blossom circuit. With any luck she’d have finished there.”
I shut my mouth and let her rant. After a minute, Aunt Peg realized I wasn’t responding. “Well?” she demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“At least she’s alive.”
“Of course she’s alive—” Peg stopped abruptly and narrowed her eyes. “Was there any question she might not be?”
“There was a fire yesterday at the school. Faith and I were trapped, and I had to hand her out through a window. Her hair got caught on a piece of glass and ripped out.”
“I read about the fire in the paper. The article said it was small and contained in one area. It didn’t say a thing about people needing to be rescued.”
“Mr. Hanover preferred to downplay the event, and I agreed. I know the hair’s a problem.” More mine than hers, I thought. I was the one doing all the maintenance on the coat. “But it couldn’t be helped.”
“I suppose I should be grateful that everything turned out all right,” Peg said grudgingly.
Was I the only one who noticed that she hadn’t inquired after the state of my health?
“Where’s Sheila?” I asked.
“She’ll be along in a few minutes. In the meantime, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”
I called Jane over. She stared at Aunt Peg in awe, then carefully wiped her hand on her jeans before holding it out to shake.
“Ms. Travis said you had eight dogs,” she said. “I only see five.”
“The other three are back in the kennel. Maybe we’ll visit them after lunch. Are you hungry?”
“Sure.” Jane grinned.
“You just ate,” I mentioned.
“Pish,” said Aunt Peg. “A growing girl like Jane needs all the food she can get. Let’s go inside and have a drink while we’re waiting for Sheila, shall we?”
Peg looped an arm around Jane’s shoulders and they climbed the steps side by side. I worked on ignoring a small, unworthy, stab of irritation. The first time I’d met Jane, she’d barely let me come within arm’s length.
No sooner had we reached the kitchen than the canine alarm system went into full cry again. Aunt Peg was getting a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. Jane was lining up glasses on the counter. It was left to me to go greet Sheila.
Aunt Peg is one of the world’s great manipulators, so I figured it hadn’t been an accident that things worked out that way. But now that the time was finally at hand, I found myself incredibly curious about the woman who’d been Sam Driver’s first love. Perhaps she and I had more in common than falling for the same man. Maybe we’d even turn out to be friends.
The first words out of her mouth shattered that illusion to bits.
“You must be Melanie,” she said. “I must say, you don’t look like much.”
“Pardon me?” The smile froze on my face.
I tried not to notice that the car she’d just climbed out of was a metallic blue Mercedes Benz. People who show big dogs need practical cars, like Volvos. At least that was what I told myself. You could probably stick a Pug or two just about anywhere.
“The way Sam talks about you, I thought you were some sort of wonder woman. I guess I was expecting someone . . .” Her gaze raked up and down. “Taller.”
Considering that my height topped hers by several inches, I figured Sheila was hardly one to talk. Then again, while I’ve always wanted to be tall and statuesque, Sheila looked like the kind of woman who was thrilled with herself just the way she was.
Her clothes—black jeans, a white turtleneck, and a black leather bomber jacket—fit her small frame impeccably. Their lack of color formed the perf
ect backdrop for her sleek dark hair, creamy skin, and big blue eyes. Everything about her screamed confidence.
If I wasn’t careful, I might find myself screaming right back.
“I hope I’m not underdressed,” she said, glancing at my dark suit. “Peg said it was casual.”
“It is. I just came from a memorial service; otherwise, I’d be wearing pants myself.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Sheila’s eyebrows arched. “Sam mentioned that your friends seem to make a habit of dying.”
I choked back the first response that sprang to mind, quickly covering the word by clearing my throat. Even though one hears it all the time at dog shows, most people find it objectionable in polite company.
I guessed that meant the battle lines had been drawn.
At the door we were met by the mob of Poodles. Sheila, as the newcomer, received the bulk of the friendly assault, but she didn’t seem to mind. Aunt Peg looked on approvingly as Sam’s ex-wife made sure that each of the dogs got a moment of individual attention.
“They’re gorgeous,” she said. “I don’t know how you find the time to keep them all so beautifully groomed.”
“I make the time,” Peg replied pointedly, and I knew the dig was directed at me.
“Well, I admire your dedication. I’m not sure I could do half as well. Luckily, my Pugs are pretty much wash-and-wear.”
Suck up, I thought.
Aunt Peg glared.
Good grief, I hadn’t spoken aloud, had I? If so, Sheila didn’t seem to have heard. Jane, however, was grinning. I took that as a bad sign.
She hung back as Aunt Peg and Sheila headed for the kitchen. “So that’s the competition.”
“Sheila and I are not competing.”
“Try telling that to her.”
The girl’s radar was way too accurate.
“Besides,” I said. “Even if we were, this is neutral territory.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” Jane quoted. For a child who didn’t spend any time in school, her education wasn’t half bad.
You know how time seems to speed up when you’re having fun and slows when things are going badly? That afternoon passed with an excruciating lack of velocity. By the time coffee was served, I must have checked my watch a dozen times.
Hush Puppy Page 17
