Fatal Deduction

by Gayle Roper

  Which? That I need to take you to visit more often or that you’re a grown woman? Neither option made me happy.

  “And you, little lady.” Tori bent to pet Princess, who was jumping against her shins, barking for attention. She scooped the little dog in her arms, unhooked her lead, and planted a kiss on her nose. Princess returned the favor with an enthusiastic lick and settled against Tori.

  Traitor. I retracted the leash and put it and my purse on a living room chair, carefully tucking the door key in the purse’s inner pocket.

  Tori, Chloe, and Princess disappeared into the house, talking and laughing.

  “Chloe, there’s more to carry in!”

  But Chloe was struck with selective deafness, an affliction common to teens, its cure unknown to modern science.

  I looked at Chloe’s duffel, abandoned on the stoop beside the suitcases, and sighed as I dragged the luggage inside.

  It was going to be a long six months.

  2

  “HI,” CAME A YOUNG VOICE behind me.

  I turned from pulling more supplies out of the van’s side door and saw a girl standing in the lane watching me. She looked about Chloe’s age with straight dark hair tucked behind her ears and eyelashes the rest of us would kill for.

  “Hi,” I answered with a smile.

  “Did you have a good trip to Atlantic City?”

  “Not me.” I tucked a bag of groceries into the crook of my arm. “That would be my sister.”

  She squinted as she studied me. “Boy, you look alike.”

  “Identical twins. My name’s Libby. She’s Tori, but you already know that if you met her.”

  “Elizabeth and Victoria. Queens.”

  Quick study, this kid. “That’s us. Rulers of all we survey.” Not. I had a quicksilver flash of Mom calling us her “little princesses.” How old had we been when she stopped that? Five? Six?

  The girl laughed. “I’m Jenna, after no one famous.”

  My smile widened. I liked this girl. “Perhaps you’ll be the one to make the name famous.” I caught a second bag in my other arm.

  She rolled her eyes. “Right. Can I carry a couple of bags for you?” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed a pair, and we began walking toward the house. “Do you have to live here for six months like your sister?”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  I wasn’t going to tell her about Aunt Stella’s hope of healing our family’s broken relationships, especially since I was the cause of much of the trouble. “It’s what Aunt Stella said in her will or the house gets sold and all her money goes to charities.”

  Jenna seemed shocked. “All the money? Can she do that?”

  “All the money. And she can do whatever she wants with her estate.”

  “So you get nothing if you leave in, like, November?”

  “You got it. Or if Tori leaves.”

  “Weird.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” If Aunt Stella was waiting for me in Glory, and I was afraid the if was a rather large one, I planned to ask her which of us she expected to change as a result of this forced intimacy—Tori or me. Of course, if she was waiting for me in Glory, then it was Tori she had hopes for.

  “We’re here for six months too.” Jenna hiked a sliding bag up with a flip of her hip. “Third house over there.” She pointed to one with a red door. “No money involved though. Dad’s doing one of those house exchange things while he’s on a sabbatical from teaching. He’s over the moon about getting to stay in a Colonial-era place. He’s a Ben Franklin scholar, and he’s writing a book.”

  I studied the row of old homes, most extended trinities like Aunt Stella’s. A genuine trinity was a house of three stories with one room on each floor, called a trinity after the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The old homes on Elfreth’s Alley down by Independence Hall in the historic district were trinities. Those on our little lane—or at least Aunt Stella’s—were extended in the back to add another room or rooms to each floor. I could see why an Early American historian would love the idea of living in these little, inconvenient places, provided his family wasn’t too large.

  Personally I yearned for my own little house. I’d only managed to buy it last year, and I wasn’t at all blasé about it yet. “How about you? Are you glad to be in Philadelphia too?”

  “Ask me in a couple of months, okay? Back home our neighbors have a swimming pool, and I had unlimited access.” She grinned. “They also have two hottie sons. Dad says they’re too old for me, and they probably are. They’re seventeen and eighteen, and I’m thirteen. But a girl can dream, right?”

  “And all I’ve got to offer as a replacement is a daughter.” I shook my head in sympathy. “But she’s your age and looking for someone besides me to hang out with.”

  Jenna looked interested.

  We reached Aunt Stella’s, and I turned the knob on the front door and pushed. Nothing.

  “It’s locked.” I know I sounded surprised.

  “Probably always locks. Our front door does.”

  Ah.

  “Then at night you turn all these other locks.” She mimed turning a series of locks from top to bottom. “Deadbolts. What kind of a name is that? Sort of creepy, you know?”

  “The joys of city living.”

  “It’s not like we don’t have locks at home,” Jenna went on as I set down one of my grocery bags and patted my pockets, looking for the house key. “But it’s one per door, not four like on the inside of our front door here.”

  I nodded as I pictured myself putting my key back in my purse like a good little girl. I also saw the purse sitting inside on a living room chair. I rang the bell. Somehow the thought of having to get Tori to let me in grated. It was petty of me, but I didn’t want to owe her anything, even something as simple as entry into the house.

  I needn’t have worried. In fact, I should have known better. It wasn’t Tori who opened the door. It was Chloe.

  “Oh. It’s you.”

  Glad to see you too, kiddo. Who else were you expecting?

  “Chloe, this is Jenna.” I indicated that Jenna should go inside before me. “She was kind enough to help me carry in some of the bags.” Hint, hint.

  Chloe brightened perceptibly as she caught sight of the cute dark-haired girl with me. “Here, let me help you.” She took one of the grocery sacks from Jenna’s arms and led the way to the kitchen, where they set their burdens on the counter.

  I picked up my bag and followed them. I left the girls eying each other as I went to the living room for the key. I found it exactly where I’d left it. After tucking it carefully into my pocket, I started for the van and the several bags still inside. I’d brought tons of food and supplies because I didn’t know where any grocery stores were in Philadelphia.

  I was humming as I approached the van. The song died in my throat when I saw the unhappy old man standing at my bumper, his arms crossed and a frown puckering his brow.

  “I’m sorry.” I hurried forward. “Am I in your way?”

  He glanced from me to the van. “You can’t leave it here. What if we need an ambulance or the fire company?”

  “They can’t get in anyway.” I indicated the cement stanchions with a wave of my hand.

  “They lift out,” the man said. Then lest I think about removing them and driving in the lane, he quickly added, “For emergencies.”

  “O-kay. Well, I’m just emptying the van. Then I’ll park it over in the lot.” I pointed to the square of macadam between the set-back lane and the street. I smiled, hoping to make him less frosty.

  He stuck out his hand. “You must be one of the nieces. I’m James Mowery. I go with Tinksie.”

  This dour man was genial Tinksie’s husband? Talk about opposites! “So we’re across-the-street neighbors.” I’m so clever with chitchat.

  “We are. I saw you and Tinksie talking when you first arrived. Did she tell you about our Fourth of July block party?”

  “No, but it sounds like fu
n.”

  “Yeah, fun.” He nodded and his bald head reflected enough sunlight to blind me. “I’m the chairman. What can you bring?”

  “To eat?”

  “Of course to eat.”

  “I thought maybe you meant a game or something.”

  He was appalled. “I don’t do games. That’s my wife. I do food. Every adult has to bring something to eat. That means a husband and wife equal two dishes. We don’t want to get caught without enough food.” He studied me. “Stella always brought wonderful baked limas she made from scratch.”

  “I can do that.” Now I’d have to find a grocery store around here fast. I had brought no dried beans along. “How many of us will there be?”

  “About thirty or so from the lane and some guests. They have to bring food too.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I could just hear Mr. Mowery saying to his friends, “You’re invited to our Fourth of July bash, but only if you bring food. You can’t come if you don’t. One dish for each of you. Got it?”

  “I take it you like to eat, Mr. Mowery.”

  For a moment he seemed startled at my irreverent comment, and I was afraid I’d been put on James’s forget-her list. Then, though he didn’t smile, he patted his substantial paunch. “I don’t know where you got that idea.”

  It took only two more trips with Mr. Mowery gallantly carrying a bag or two to get everything into the house. Then I slid the van into the numbered slot that matched the house number. I wondered what you did if you had two cars, then remembered I was in the city. Lots of people living here didn’t even have one car. They used public transportation and taxis. You could take a lot of taxis for what a car cost, to say nothing of insurance, upkeep, and parking fees.

  But where was Tori’s car? Last time I’d seen her, she was driving a flashy red convertible of some kind. There was nothing like that in this little lot, and the van completely filled our slot. No room for sharing.

  Lugging my canvas L.L.Bean tote filled with paperbacks and my Sudoku books—I didn’t know where any bookstores were either—I let myself into the cool interior of our for-the-time-being home. I found Chloe and Jenna had already hooked up my computer on the kitchen table and were glued to the screen, Chloe’s blond head side by side with Jenna’s dark one. Tori’s New York Times crossword puzzle book was pushed to the far corner, one page slightly torn and sticking out, something that would not make my sister happy.

  The girls were oblivious to any damage they might have done, intent on what really mattered.

  “That is so cool.” Jenna pointed to a picture on Chloe’s Facebook page.

  “Wait until you see this.”

  Jenna was suitably impressed. “My dad won’t let me on Facebook. He heard it wasn’t safe anymore. Too mature.” Her voice was full of can-you-believe-that?

  Chloe glanced at me as if fearful I’d require her to shut down too, now that I’d heard about potential trouble. She asked Jenna, “Is your dad really strict?”

  “You wouldn’t believe. I know it’s because he loves me and all, but it’s a pain. I’m not allowed to have an Internet connection on my laptop, only on the PC in the family room. Or the kitchen table in the little house here. I think it’s because of my mom.” She made a rude little noise.

  Chloe heard only the part that interested her. “You have your own laptop? What kind?” She glanced at me again. She’d been on her knees for a laptop for the last couple of years. “Just for my games, Mom! Everyone has one.” “Mom won’t get me one.”

  She was right. In my selfishness, I picked mortgage payments over my kid having a laptop of her own. How cruel.

  Tori breezed into the room just in time to hear that last remark. “You don’t have a laptop of your own?” she asked Chloe, apparently appalled at this lack.

  Chloe shook her head.

  “And you won’t get her one?” Tori gave me her patented Libby-you’re-an-idiot expression. She swung back to Chloe. “Don’t you fret, sweetcakes. We’ll go buy you one tomorrow.”

  Chloe’s mouth dropped open. So did mine.

  “No, you won’t, Tori. That’s way too much money.” I tried to gain control of a situation fast getting away from me. “She’s managing fine without.”

  “Are you?” Tori asked Chloe.

  “Definitely not.” She sounded like I didn’t feed her and death was reaching its bony fingers to grab her.

  “Just as I thought. We’ll go tomorrow before I leave for work. And we’ll pick up a couple of games. Maybe The Sims?”

  “Cool!” Chloe had stars in her eyes as she hugged her aunt.

  I forced a smile. Why couldn’t Tori buy her niece a sweater or a CD like a regular aunt? Foolish question. When had Tori ever been “regular”?

  “And I think the room on the third floor should be yours, kiddo,” Tori said. “It’s not too large, and you have to watch the sloping roofline so you don’t crack your head every time you get in or out of bed, but it’s been fixed up as if it awaited visits from a pretty girl like you.”

  Chloe flushed with pleasure. Mentally I had to thank Tori for the compliment. Thirteen is a peak age for considering yourself ugly, and my compliments didn’t count. They fall into the you-have-to-say-that-because-you’re-my-mother category.

  “Want to come and help us pick out the laptop, Jenna?” Tori asked. “Since you have one and all?”

  “Wow, can I?” Jenna was almost as excited as Chloe.

  “If your father says so,” I hastened to say, since I doubted Tori’d think to. She’d never waited for parental permission in her younger days, so I doubted she’d think to have Jenna seek it.

  Jenna grabbed Chloe by the arm. “Come on. Let’s go ask him. I think he’s home by now. He’s been at the library doing research. Did you know that the first subscription library in America was started by Benjamin Franklin?”

  Chloe just stared at her new friend.

  “Sorry.” Jenna giggled. “It’s a curse that comes from living with my father. I know way too much trivia.”

  “Be back by six for dinner,” I called.

  But they were gone, and all I knew was the house with the red door. I had no idea what Jenna’s last name was.

  Trust in the LORD with all your heart. Trust in the LORD with all your heart. Trust in the LORD with all your heart.

  I took a deep breath and turned to my sister. “Tori, you can’t—”

  “Sure I can. It’s no big deal.”

  “I don’t mean you can’t buy the computer. That was a very nice offer, and Chloe will love you forever. I was going to say you can’t do stuff like that without checking with me first.”

  Tori looked at me as if I were nuts. “Would you have said no?”

  “No, but—”

  “But you’re the mom. Yeah, yeah. I get it.”

  But she clearly didn’t. She couldn’t. She didn’t have a kid she worried about, prayed about, anguished over. She wasn’t the person of last resort for another human being. She was sort of like Aunt Stella, footloose and fancy-free.

  “By the way”—she held out a hand and checked her perfect nails for chips—“I won’t be sleeping here two nights out of three. I checked with Aunt Stella’s lawyers as executors of the estate and explained about my job, and we came to an arrangement. I’ll go to Atlantic City tomorrow afternoon, work tomorrow night, spend the night there, work Friday and spend that night, then return for Saturday and Saturday night, then leave again Sunday afternoon. The important thing is that one of us is here every night. I talked with my boss too, and we arranged that I could be here every third day. He wasn’t happy, but”—she paused and smiled complacently—“I’m too good to lose.”

  Tori’s job was caring for the high rollers who came to the SeaSide Casino, arranging to fly them in on private jets at SeaSide’s expense, putting them up in the best suites, comping their meals, and meeting their every need and desire. Keeping them happy by whatever means necessary was her whole purpose, the idea being that they’d s
tay and gamble as long as they were happy. By providing this service, she made more money in a month than I did in a year. And she got free room and board at the SeaSide. And had only herself to care for.

  “I’m glad you were able to work things out,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your job over all this, and I don’t think that was what Aunt Stella had in mind either. I’m just glad my work is so adaptable.”

  I hoped my sister couldn’t intuit the wave of overwhelming relief I felt about the intermittent reprieves I’d get when she went to work. That reaction said terrible things about me as a person, but my relief outweighed my guilt in about the same proportions that a Saint Bernard outweighed Princess.

  But Tori didn’t care what I thought. She had more important things to worry about. She was checking her reflection in the mirror that I suspected was an American Federal-style Hepplewhite mahogany over the Hepplewhite mahogany side table by the front door.

  “Don’t wait dinner,” she called over her shoulder as she pulled the door open. “I have a date.”

  And I had a tension headache and a counter full of unpacked groceries.

  3

  THE QUIET SETTLED AROUND ME, and immediately I began to relax. Just me and Princess, the little traitor. I could deal with this, at least as soon as I pulled her out of the bag she was climbing in to get to the Hershey’s Kisses, her favorite candy. “Chocolate can kill you,” I told her as I put the Kisses on a high shelf. She glowered at me.

  I grabbed the frozen things from the cooler and stashed them in the freezer before they had a chance to melt. Then I forgot all about the rest of the groceries—they weren’t going anywhere, unfortunately—opened the french doors, and stepped into a small Eden right here in Center City, Princess at my heels.

  In the far corner, a small waterfall cascaded over faux rocks tumbling into a small pool bordered with ferns swaying in the slight breeze. Princess made straight for the little pool, and next thing I knew she was standing in water up to her chin. I wasn’t worried about the dog—poodles were swimmers—but her little claws could pierce a plastic liner. I hurried forward in a slight panic.