Bonefire of the Vanities
Page 25
“Sherry either drugged you or hypnotized you.” It wasn’t Graf’s fault, but I had to fight back my annoyance. “The cat is out of the bag now, for sure.”
“Good.” Oscar took control. “We can all quit pretending. Graf and I will pay whatever is required to be a part of this Heart’s Desire. Tinkie and you will join us in our suites, as it should be. We’ll attend the séances and find out what the Westins are really up to. Enough of this maid and valet silliness.”
In a way, Oscar was right. Tinkie and I had accomplished all we could in our disguise as maids. We could simply investigate for Mrs. Littlefield, maybe prevent her from ruining the rest of her life. That was what we were hired to do, not deceive the Westins. It was time to put aside our covert operations, move Mrs. Littlefield and Pluto home, and help Coleman find out who had killed two young women.
“If Sherry could hypnotize Graf and get him to spill his guts about you and everything else, she’s a very dangerous woman,” Tinkie said. “She’s had private sessions with all of the clients at one time or another. We can assume she knows their innermost secrets.”
“Then she’d likely know who killed Amanda and Lola,” Oscar said. Leave it to the moneyman to apply logic. “Why hasn’t she told Coleman?”
“Two possibilities. Either she has something to gain, or the killer is someone she’s never consulted with. Someone like Yumi Kato.” While Oscar had dibs on logic, I knew human nature. “We need to work fast. Amaryllis is missing, and Yumi stole Palk’s keys. She can go anywhere on the compound.”
“I’ll speak with Roger Addleson,” Oscar said. “He knows something about Amaryllis, and he won’t push me—”
Tinkie took his arm and steered him away.
“Who did Roger push?” Graf asked.
“Talk to the Westins. Find out what they know about their chef. Please.”
It was the “please” that did the trick. “Will do.”
“Tink and I will see how our client is doing,” I said.
“She’s gotten used to having us to order around,” Tinkie said. “This is going to be hard on her.”
We trudged back up the steps I’d so recently bounced down. Graf must have noticed my stiffness, but he didn’t ask. At the second-story landing, Tinkie and I turned to Marjorie’s room.
She’d been asleep earlier, and I suspected she might still be. She slept a lot. Probably due to the bottles of medication for anxiety and nerves. We weren’t especially quiet when we entered the suite. The bedroom was empty.
“Where’s Marjorie?” Tinkie asked.
Pluto frantically dug at the closed door of the bathroom. “Stop it,” I told him. He’d already managed to claw off several layers of paint. Marjorie would have a major repair bill tacked onto her visit. “Ease off.” I picked him up, but he jumped from my arms and clawed at the door again, his fat little black paws moving like he was churning butter.
“Marjorie?” I tapped on the bathroom door. “Marjorie?” I heard water running. “Marjorie?” I smacked the door a little harder. To my horror, when I looked down at my feet, a growing puddle of bloody water seeped around my shoes.
Pluto let out a gut-wrenching yowl and attacked the door again.
Jiggling the handle, I discovered the door was locked.
“Get the men!” I used my shoulder as a battering ram while Tinkie ran to get Oscar, Graf, and Palk.
Within minutes, Palk, dressed in his tuxedo, was there. He forced the door open but allowed Tinkie and me to enter first.
“Call 911!” Tinkie ordered. Marjorie’s slender body, terribly childlike, floated in an overflowing bathtub stained pink with her blood. One wrist hung over the side, dripping bright red onto the flooded floor.
Her eyes rolled open and she smiled groggily.
* * *
Marjorie’s pulse was weak but steady after we lifted her out of the water, wrapped her in a blanket, and settled her on the bed. Tinkie applied pressure bandages to her wrists while we waited for Doc Sawyer to arrive.
Chasley paced the room, one wary eye on Pluto, who’d assumed a sphinxlike pose on top of my best white shirt. “She should be taken to the hospital,” Chasley said. “She’s a danger to herself. Clearly you can comprehend that? It’s not about the money. I don’t want her to die. Can’t you understand? She’s my mother and I don’t want her to die.”
Tinkie and I had our share of worries about Marjorie, but we resisted Chasley’s pleas. He seemed sincere in his worry, but I couldn’t forget that a hospital record of attempted suicide—and there could be no doubt what Marjorie’s actions implied—could become a real problem for her. Once she was in a hospital, it would be one more tiny step to send her to a mental ward. I feared that was Chasley’s ultimate goal, no matter what he said. And Tinkie had assured me the cuts on her wrists were not life-threatening.
“I don’t want to be hospitalized.” Marjorie turned her head away from Chasley. “You want to declare me insane. I’m not crazy, I’m just so alone.”
“You attempted suicide, Mother. That isn’t the action of a sane person.”
Instead of responding with anger, she sighed. “I’ve had enough of all this. I want to go home. I thought this would bring me happiness, but it’s only generated misery. I want to live quietly for the time I have left. Enough séances and investment strategies. My life has become a series of chores that mean nothing to me. I’ve clung to a foolish dream. I believed something magical would happen to show me what to do with the rest of my time on this plane. Life doesn’t work that way. I’m done. I simply want to go home.”
Excellent news! If we could put Marjorie on the road home, then we could fully focus on finding Amaryllis, capturing Yumi and proving her guilt or innocence, and picking up our lives in Zinnia. I rushed to the closet to bring out her bags and pack.
“I want you to stay here, Mother.” Chasley pushed off the far wall. “You came here to talk to Mariam. You shouldn’t leave until you do.”
I wanted to beat him with a stick.
“What is your problem?” Tinkie asked, obviously sharing my annoyance at Chasley’s stupidity.
He took a deep breath. “I’ve come to a few conclusions myself. Mother will never believe I’m innocent unless Mariam tells her. I never harmed my sister. I may be guilty of neglect, but I was a fifteen-year-old boy. When I realized Mariam was missing, I panicked. I knew I didn’t pay enough attention to her. When she fell into the river, I thought at first she was hiding from me, paying me back for ignoring her. When I realized she was truly gone, I searched for her. Had I seen her in the water, I would have tried to save her, even if I drowned myself.”
“But you didn’t call for help until much later,” Tinkie said softly. “That’s what troubles your mother. And you showed no grief.”
Chasley paced as he gathered his composure. “I’d taken Mariam to show her how much Ramón trusted me, but the offices were locked. When she disappeared, I’d been trying to break in through a window. I was frustrated, so I smoked a cigarette. I wanted Mariam to see me as grown-up and sophisticated, someone Ramón trusted. Finally, I realized she was gone and what had likely happened. I couldn’t get into the office to use the phone. I tried some of the other buildings, but they were locked, too. By the time I found a pay phone…”
Sorrow touched his handsome features, and I felt real pity for him. As much as Marjorie had blamed him, he heaped more guilt on himself. He had been, after all, only fifteen.
“You never spoke about what happened,” Marjorie said.
“I didn’t know what to do. I tried, but it was like being in a nightmare. At first, I didn’t want to believe anything had really happened to her. I thought if I could pretend that it wasn’t a big deal, maybe she’d be okay. Maybe she’d show up. Maybe she’d come home.”
“Chasley.” Marjorie spoke so softly. “All these years, you’ve carried the burden of guilt. I always thought you didn’t care, that it didn’t matter to you. You were so … blasé about her death.”
He reached for Marjorie’s hand but stopped when Pluto rose up and stalked toward him. The cat walked like a line backer, and his green gaze locked on to Chasley. Pity the fool who took on that cat.
For a moment we froze in the tableau. Marjorie began to sob. Hard, rending noises that sounded as if her guts were being shredded. “I’m so sorry, Chasley,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
I could see her blood pressure spiking by the flush in her face. “Chasley, let Marjorie rest. When the doctor gets here, I’m sure he’ll speak with you. We need to keep her quiet.”
Brandy Westin tapped lightly at the door, and when we’d relieved her worry—Marjorie was not in danger of dying—she put her arm through Chasley’s and gently urged him toward the door. She whispered to him. Whatever she said did the trick. He left without further protest.
I cleared everyone else from the room. I needed a word with my client. Tinkie went downstairs to brew tea, an excuse to give me time alone with Marjorie.
I sat on the side of the bed. A spot of blood had seeped through the pressure bandages Tinkie had wrapped on Marjorie’s wrists, but the cuts were shallow and Tinkie’s nursing more than up to the task. The worst of Marjorie’s physical wounds was over, for the moment.
“Do you believe him?” I asked.
“Part of me wants to, more than anything,” she said. “What I do know is that it doesn’t matter. I’m tired of all this. What if I do talk to Mariam? What if she tells me Chasley is innocent? Or guilty? It won’t make any difference. She’s still dead and I’m still alone. I’ve focused so long on protecting my money and using it as a means to punish Chasley. I’ve been a rotten mother to him. I don’t deserve better.”
Even though I agreed with her, the defeat she expressed was hard to accept. “Maybe you can make it up to Chasley. The two of you can start fresh. It isn’t too late.”
“Call my lawyer, Sarah Booth. No, I want a new lawyer. Donald Allen has wielded too much influence in my life. Call a Zinnia lawyer. A young person who isn’t jaded by life. I want to change my will. I’m leaving all of my possessions—everything—to Chasley. It won’t make up for the years I’ve cheated him out of having a mother, but he can stop fighting me for the crumbs. Let him have it all. I’m done with this. I just want to go home.”
“Are you sure? This is so sudden. Give it until tomorrow at least, Marjorie. Acting rashly is never smart.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Call an attorney you know and trust, or give me the phone and I’ll call the first lawyer I can find.”
I used the cell phone Coleman gave me to contact a bright young lawyer I knew in Zinnia. Lacey Polaterri said she’d be at Heart’s Desire in two hours. I figured that would give Doc time to check Marjorie over. Soon I would be packing her bags and taking her home. I felt as if I’d been at Heart’s Desire half my life. The only thing left to do was find Amaryllis and safely remove her from the compound.
Coleman would find Amanda’s and Lola’s killer or killers. If it was Yumi, she’d experience the hospitality of the Sunflower County jail. Tinkie and I could go back to Zinnia with Oscar and Graf. I had a script to read and a man to play house with.
* * *
Doc Sawyer signaled me outside the front door of Heart’s Desire. It was time for dinner, and Marjorie had insisted she would dress and go downstairs. Graf was in her room, waiting to escort her.
“Tinkie was right in her diagnosis. The cuts were mostly superficial. She’s determined to go home.” Doc rubbed the corner of his mouth. He was clearly dubious.
“Should I stop her?”
His hesitation said a lot, but his answer was firm. “No. I think she’ll be happier in her own place. Her blood pressure is fine, her pulse steady. I’m concerned about these spikes in blood pressure. The medication I gave her should control this better. She says she’s not taking other medications, but something isn’t right here.”
“She had a bagful of medicine, but Tinkie removed it. You’re worrying me, though. People with money can get whatever they want.”
“Marjorie has changed so much. The woman I knew was indomitable. She’d never harm herself. Time has extracted a harsh price.”
“Do you think she should be put in a hospital or clinic?”
Doc sighed. “She seems to have come to a decision about her life, and that will have a positive impact on her health. She needs a total workup—physically, mentally, and emotionally—but she won’t hear of it right now. We can’t stop her from leaving, and right now, I think that’s the best plan for her. Marjorie has to come to terms with her emotions, and she has to want to live a happy and productive life. Maybe she’s turned that corner.”
“I’m a worrywart.”
“She’s releasing the idea that Mariam is lurking around in the nether regions, waiting for a chance to talk to her. She told me she’d given Mariam’s spirit multiple chances, and that if she truly wanted to communicate, she would have done so. I think Marjorie is ready to live, because she’s finally accepted that Mariam no longer needs her, and she doesn’t have to punish herself.”
19
Tinkie and I helped Marjorie pack her mountain of belongings. I was eager for her to be clear of Heart’s Desire and the murders. With Marjorie on the way out, Tinkie and I could concentrate on stalking a killer. Even though Marjorie was leaving, I had no intention of abandoning the search for Amanda’s killer with so many other things left up in the air. Palk had conducted another search for Amaryllis and Yumi. The guards were insistent no one had left the premises, yet both women remained missing.
Graf and Oscar questioned the staff and guests about Amaryllis, but they’d turned up nothing. She’d vanished without a trace, or at least a trace we could find. Her belongings were in her room. Her rental car was in the client garage. If she’d left, she was on foot. Not exactly the mode of transportation that came to mind when I thought of the well-turned-out blonde. I feared the worst.
Humping luggage to the front of the house, I ran into Brandy and a strangely apathetic Sherry. The Westins, mother and daughter, assumed no responsibility for anything that had happened. “You brought this mess into our house,” Brandy accused. “I had no role in this.”
Tinkie, hauling two more bags, joined us in the foyer. “We’d like a copy of Yumi’s résumé,” she said. “Now.”
“I’m not obligated to give you anything,” Brandy said.
“You might want to rethink that.” Tinkie drew herself up to her full five feet two inches.
“The buck stops with you, Brandy. When you called Yumi’s references, did they give her a good report?” I asked.
“I didn’t bother to call. Her résumé was excellent. I was lucky to hire her.”
“You didn’t do a background check on the head chef?” Tinkie was incredulous. “You could have hired Velma Barfield.”
“Who?” I nudged Tinkie.
“Executed for poisoning.” Tinkie wasn’t in a mood to hand out facts.
Brandy’s chin tilted up. “Yumi worked at the White House. She has all of her papers. She’s a superb cook and knew how to run a kitchen. What more could I want?”
“A reference who could say she wasn’t a killer,” Tinkie snapped. “You people! I run a garden club luncheon with more professionalism.”
Brandy bristled. “I knew you weren’t a maid. Too sassy. And you!” She drilled into me. “You aren’t a maid, but you aren’t society, either.”
“Correct on both counts. I’m a private investigator, and you have a huge problem on your hands. Finding Yumi and your missing guest should be your top priority, not bickering with me and Tinkie.”
“Mother, I don’t feel well.” Sherry’s eye
s were glazed, and it struck me that she was honestly sick. If she was truly a medium, and Graf believed she’d channeled Granger’s spirit, she might need pharmaceuticals to find peace. I knew from dealing with Jitty that haints could be very demanding.
“Go to the penthouse,” Brandy said.
Sherry started to obey like a willing child, when I touched her arm. “Do you know who killed Amanda and Lola?” It was worth at least asking.
Her shoulders rounded even more. “They won’t come to me. They’re afraid. I’m sorry, I’m exhausted.” She stumbled away, and I thought I heard a sob.
“Palk! Palk!” Brandy called the butler. “Dinner is canceled. Have the kitchen staff prepare trays. Serve everyone in the private suites. Tonight’s séance is canceled. My daughter is unwell. Heart’s Desire will resume normal operations only after the riffraff has been pushed off the premises.”
For all intents and purposes, Heart’s Desire was in shutdown.
Graf and Oscar showed up as the gathering disbanded. Graf pulled me aside. “Shimmer Addleson is sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by crushed perfume boxes. She’s out of control. She believes Roger helped Amaryllis escape Heart’s Desire and she’s furious. Oscar and I calmed her down, but she’s still threatening to kill Roger when she finds him.”
My fiancé and Tinkie’s husband were a great addition to the detective agency.
My head was still spinning when Lacey Polaterri, the Zinnia lawyer I’d called, arrived. Marjorie reclined on the chaise and dictated the contents of her new will as Lacey typed on her laptop. Upon Marjorie’s death or permanent impairment of mental faculties, Chasley would inherit everything. Stocks, bonds, real estate, bank accounts, property, a yacht anchored in Miami, a villa in Spain—the list went on and on. Marjorie, who had a bachelor of science degree in home economics, had displayed amazing abilities to invest. Her other talent was marrying well, an art honed on the campus of Ole Miss.
“She could feed and care for a small country,” Tinkie whispered to me.