by Joanne Fluke
“I just think it would be a better idea to stay here tonight,” she added, trying to soften her tone somewhat. “Leslie and I should start working on her project right away. Schoolwork comes first, you know.”
Mike was still staring at her and Karen blushed guiltily. She didn’t dare explain her real reason for not wanting to leave the house. He’d know something was wrong and ask questions. Mike must never find out about her paranoia against leaving the house.
“Well, I guess I might as well work, then.” Mike pushed back his chair with a sigh. “You two are going to be busy and there’s nothing else for me to do. Do you want me to come down and check in a couple of hours? Maybe all three of us can do something after Leslie’s homework is done.”
Karen stared down at her plate. She didn’t really want to do anything tonight, except help Leslie with her project. After Leslie went to bed, she wanted to be alone to think and plan. She needed to be by herself to wrestle with some of the problems that were confronting her. And she certainly couldn’t discuss them with Mike.
“I’ll come up if it isn’t too late.” Karen looked up at last. “You have a lot of work to do, don’t you, Mike? If it gets too late, I won’t disturb you.”
Karen saw the disappointment in his eyes. He looked hurt by her dismissal, but that simply couldn’t be helped. Actually, she was almost sorry Mike had come home this weekend. He just made more problems for her. Things were much better when Mike wasn’t here.
TWENTY-SIX
Leslie woke up happy. They’d finished half the project last night and it was going to be wonderful. She hummed a little tune as she pulled on her cutoff jeans and buttoned her favorite white shirt. It was Saturday and she had the whole day free. Just as soon as she had breakfast, she’d go and offer to help Mom on the house.
Leslie pulled her door shut behind her, but the wood was warped from the humidity and it was impossible to latch. She didn’t think Trixie could get it open, but she’d have to be careful. Mike had promised to put on a new lock, but he was gone all the time. She’d just have to keep her eye on Trixie. That little dog was a menace.
Leslie found their housekeeper in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables for Sunday’s stew. She said she always had beef stew on Sundays so everyone could eat whenever they wanted. Mrs. Schmidt smiled when she saw Leslie.
“My goodness, you’re up with the birds this morning! I guess we’re the only early risers today. They’re still sleeping. Why don’t you run up and take your bath and we’ll all have breakfast together when they wake up. And make sure you soak those fingernails. Cleanliness is next to godliness, you know.”
Leslie shook her head as she ran the water in the bathtub. Mrs. Schmidt really had a thing for cleanliness. She looked down at her hands and shrugged. Her fingernails were awfully dirty and she hadn’t even noticed. She used to give herself manicures and put polish on them, but that didn’t seem very important anymore.
Leslie draped her clothes over a stool and tested the water with her bare toe. It was just right. It might be nice to relax in a hot tub.
“Oh!” She remembered just in time and reached up to remove her key. The leather thong was very dirty and she decided to find a new one right after her bath. She dropped it by the side of the tub and stretched out in the warm water until only her head was visible. Then she shut her eyes and leaned back, totally relaxed.
The water was cold and she sat up, blinking. She must have fallen asleep. She stepped out and dried herself on a fluffy towel, thinking that she should have stayed in bed longer this morning.
She didn’t see the open door until she was dressed. It was open only a little way and Leslie frowned. Mrs. Schmidt wouldn’t have come in while she was in the tub. She was always talking about modesty. It must have been Trixie. That dog could push any door open.
“My key!” Leslie gave a cry as she discovered it was gone. Trixie must have dragged it off somewhere. She had to find it right away. Terrible things happened when she lost her key!
She ran from the room in a panic. As she rushed to the top of the stairs, looking for the annoying little Chihuahua, she heard Mrs. Schmidt on the phone in the parlor. Maybe Mrs. Schmidt had taken her key away from Trixie.
“That’s right, Harriet.” Mrs. Schmidt’s voice was low, but Leslie could hear her perfectly. “She spends money like it’s going out of style. I don’t know how that poor man puts up with it. Every time he comes home, there’s something else she wants to buy, and it’s always expensive. No wonder he has to work his fingers to the bone. I tell you, I just don’t know what’s holding that marriage together.... Heavens, no!” Mrs. Schmidt gave a loud snort. “I told you they don’t even sleep together. She’s got a big bedroom on the second floor and he sleeps in his studio when he’s here. It’s just not right, Harriet. They certainly don’t behave like normal people.”
Leslie drew in her breath sharply. There was a short silence and Mrs. Schmidt spoke again.
“Yes, I’m sure of it now. There’s definitely something wrong with her mind. You should hear her go on about the people that built this place—the Appletons. She acts like she knew them personally, and that’s not all. . . .”
Mrs. Schmidt dropped her voice to a conspiratorial level.
“She talks to that big picture of the Appleton girl just like it’s alive! I caught her doing it just the other day. She’s headed for a breakdown; I recognize the signs. I don’t know, Harriet. . . . I just hate to think about what’s going to happen to Leslie when her mother finally goes over the edge. I know it’s not my responsibility, but I can’t help but worry. Leslie’s only ten and he can’t take care of her. His work takes him away most of the time and she’s not even his child, you know.”
There was a pause and Mrs. Schmidt sighed loudly. Leslie could hear the chair creak as she rose to her feet.
“Well . . . he’ll just have to put her in a hospital if she gets much worse. I don’t see what other choice he’s got. Then I suppose they’ll put little Leslie in a foster home. It might be better for her in the long run. It can’t be good for her to see her mother going crazy right before her very eyes. I certainly won’t hesitate to call the authorities if I have to. That child shouldn’t be exposed to this sort of thing. Sheriff Olson can take care of it if something happens while Mr. Houston’s gone. I think I’ll give him a call on Monday and alert him. One has to think of the child, you know.”
Leslie began to shake as Mrs. Schmidt hung up and walked back into the kitchen. Could the sheriff take her away from her mother and send her to a foster home? The thought made her weak with fear. She had to stop Mrs. Schmidt from calling him.
She reached up for her key with trembling fingers. Then she remembered. That hateful Trixie had taken her key. Now even Christopher couldn’t help her.
Leslie rushed to her room and flung herself on the bed in despair. She was all alone and she was scared to death!
Sharp teeth bit into her toe. She pulled her foot back quickly and her whole body shook with the unexpected assault. There was something under her bed!
As Leslie peered fearfully over the edge of the mattress, there was a low growl. Trixie poked her head out into the light. The little Chihuahua looked pleased with herself and she stared up at Leslie with glittering eyes.
“What are you doing under there? Get out of there! Get out of my room! You know you’re not supposed to be in here!”
Trixie made a dash for the open door, painted toenails sliding around the corner as she ran into the hallway. That horrid creature! Where was her key?
Leslie’s heart pounded hard as she lifted the blanket and got down on her hands and knees to peer under the bed. There was something in the very corner and Leslie’s heart beat wildly in her chest. She crawled on her stomach under the mattress and reached out to grab it. Her key! She had it back and now Christopher could protect her from Mrs. Schmidt and those cruel foster-home people.
Leslie’s fingers curled around the key in desperation. It was dark un
der the bed and her eyes didn’t hurt this time. He was coming.... Christopher was coming and he wouldn’t let Mrs. Schmidt call the sheriff. Christopher would stop her.
Don’t worry, Leslie. I’ll take care of everything tonight. You don’t have to be afraid. No one can take your mother away from us.
The house was completely still and it was time. Everyone was sleeping—everyone but Christopher and her. The bright moonlight streamed through her window and it was easy to see without turning on the light. Christopher knew it was the perfect time.
Leslie reached out for the tin of corned beef and opened it quietly. She knew exactly what to do. She set the can just inside her open door and stood there waiting. Trixie couldn’t resist the smell of corned beef. It was her favorite treat.
Her heart pounded with anticipation as she heard the clicking of Trixie’s toenails coming down the hallway. A second later she had the small dog in her arms and was tiptoeing down the stairs.
The greenhouse, Leslie. Take Trixie to the greenhouse.
It was no problem to make her way through the silent kitchen. Trixie was so intent on munching her unexpected treat that she didn’t even struggle as Leslie hoisted her under one arm in order to open the kitchen door.
Now they were out on the lawn, the wet grass brushing cold against her feet. Her white nightgown flapped around her legs with each step and Leslie broke into an awkward run, carrying Trixie with one arm and holding her key in her other hand. Then they were inside the greenhouse and Trixie looked up with a slightly startled expression on her pointed face. The little dog had never been outside in the dead of night before.
Put her down, Leslie. We’ll leave Trixie here until morning. Then it will be time. Go back to bed now. We have to get up early, before Mrs. Schmidt starts breakfast.
Leslie put Trixie down on the wooden bench and gave her the rest of the corned beef. Then she left, closing the greenhouse door tightly behind her, and ran across the lawn to the house.
It was early and the sun had just risen over the horizon. Leslie stood motionless, her hand on the latch of the gate. Her pretty blue eyes turned huge and dark and she listened to Christopher.
Go ahead, Leslie. Open the gate. I’ll help you.
Leslie stared down into the Trixie’s eyes for a moment and her face remained white and expressionless. Then she felt Chrisopher’s hand cover hers and she lifted the latch.
Push it open. That’s all you have to do. Everything will happen the way I planned it.
Leslie’s hands trembled as she pushed on the gate. The sunlight glittering off the polished metal latch hurt her eyes. She wanted to shut them, but she couldn’t. She had to watch.
Now! Push harder. We have to let Trixie out.
Leslie felt Christopher’s hand cover hers again and she pushed. The gate opened and Trixie dashed out, her little legs churning as she headed straight for the road.
Leslie laughed as Trixie barreled down the ditch and up the embankment. There was mud at the bottom of the ditch and Mrs. Schmidt would be livid if she knew that Trixie had dirty feet. Her laughter took on an edge of hysteria as Trixie neared the edge of the road. What if a car hit Trixie? It would be all her fault!
Don’t worry, Leslie. You have to trust me. What we’re doing is right.
Leslie felt her worries disappear. Of course Christopher was right. She had to trust him. And then she was calm again, numb to reality. There was a haze in front of her eyes and everything shimmered in the early morning sun as she watched Trixie reach the edge of the road. And then she heard the car coming, brakes squealing as the driver skidded to a stop and a little girl opened the passenger door and climbed out. It was like watching a movie through a fogged mirror and Leslie stood motionless, staring as the girl picked Trixie up and took her back to the car.
“Can we keep her, Mommy?” The little girl cuddled Trixie in her arms. “I’ll take care of her, I promise. You said I could have a dog when I was five and it’s almost my birthday. She’s so sweet! She licked my face when I picked her up!”
Leslie couldn’t believe her ears. Trixie had never licked her face, and she hadn’t seen the little dog lick Mrs. Schmidt’s face either. Trixie obviously liked the little girl more than she liked either one of them.
The mother smiled. “Yes, you can keep her. But you have to check with that girl standing over there at the gate to see if this is her dog. If she says yes, you have to give her back. It’s not fair to keep someone else’s dog.”
The little girl didn’t look happy, but she trudged toward the gate obediently. Leslie could tell that she really wanted to keep Trixie. What should she say when the little girl asked if Trixie was her dog?
I’ll speak for you, Leslie. I know exactly what to say. You just watch and listen.
Leslie sighed with relief as the familiar cocoon of dizziness washed over her. Christopher would take care of everything. He always did.
“Is this your dog?” the little girtl asked when she’d made her way to the gate.
Leslie felt her head shake from side to side, and then her mouth opened and words came out. “No. That dog doesn’t belong to me.”
“Do you know if she lives around here?”
“I don’t think so,” Leslie’s voice spoke again. “Nobody’s said anything about losing a dog.”
“Do you think I could keep her?”
Leslie felt her lips turn up in a smile. “I think that’s a very good idea.”
“Oh, goodie!” The girl bent down to nuzzle Trixie and the little dog looked up at her adoringly. “I just love her already and Mom said it was okay.”
Go back to the house, Leslie. You have to go upstairs before Mrs. Schmidt gets up.
Leslie’s hand gave a little wave to the girl and then she turned and went back to the house. It was over. Trixie was gone. Now all they had to do was figure out how to get rid of Mrs. Schmidt before she called Sheriff Olson on Monday.
“Have you seen Trixie?” Mrs. Schmidt took off her hat and hung it in the closet. “She always meets me at the door when I come home from church.”
Leslie shook her head solemnly. “I haven’t seen her, Mrs. Schmidt. Maybe she’s sleeping somewhere.”
“I suppose so.” Mrs. Schmidt walked into the kitchen, with Leslie following closely. “Goodness, Leslie! What do you want? You’ve been stepping on my heels ever since I came in the door.”
“I’m just hungry, I guess.” Leslie smiled up at the housekeeper. “Could I eat a little early, Mrs. Schmidt? Your stew smells so good I can hardly wait.”
Mrs. Schmidt nodded and Leslie seated herself at the kitchen table. The stew had been simmering all night and it was ready. She could hardly wait for Mrs. Schmidt to dish it up.
“Your mother doesn’t want any lunch and Mr. Houston’s working in the darkroom again, so I guess it doesn’t matter if you eat early.” Mrs. Schmidt beamed as she headed toward the stove. Children appreciated good nutrition if their systems weren’t polluted by fast foods and preservatives. Leslie was beginning to show good taste in her choice of foods now that she was doing the cooking.
“Did you wash your hands, Leslie?” Mrs. Schmidt set a soup bowl on the counter. “You know how I feel about clean hands at the table.”
“Yes, Mrs. Schmidt. I washed my face, too. And I’m really starving!”
“Patience is a virtue.” Mrs. Schmidt smiled at Leslie as she took the cover off the soup pot. It smelled different today, a little spicier, perhaps.
Mrs. Schmidt smiled as she stirred the stew port. She had gotten special stewing beef, cut it up into cubes, and braised it on the stove. Then she’d put it in the stew pot, added water, and let it simmer overnight. This morning, right after breakfast, she’d added plenty of good, nutritious vegetables, even the ones that Leslie didn’t like. The beef flavor would be so delicious that she wouldn’t even notice the fact that the stew contained cauliflower and turnips.
“You’ll have some with me, won’t you Mrs. Schmidt?”
The house
keeper turned to look at Leslie in surprise. This was the first time that Leslie had ever asked her to sit down at the kitchen table and eat with her. When she’d first started to work for the Houstons, Leslie had been a loner. The child had no friends and she didn’t seem interested in making any. Perhaps Leslie was becoming more social under her tutelage.
“Of course I’ll keep you company, Leslie,” Mrs. Schmidt said with a smile. “I’ll dish up two bowls now, but we’ll have to wait at least five minutes before we can eat. The stew pot’s boiling and it has to cool.”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Schmidt.” Leslie watched her place the bowls on the table. “Let’s go look for Trixie while it’s cooling. I know she’s got to be around her somewhere.”
The housekeeper nodded. “That’s a very good idea. Where would you like to start?”
“I’ll go up to the cupola. Trixie goes up there sometimes. And after that, I’ll check the ballroom. Why don’t you start on the second floor and check the bedrooms? Then we can meet down here and have our stew.”
Leslie climbed up the stairs with Mrs. Schmidt until they parted company at the second floor. The moment Mrs. Schmidt had gone into one of the extra bedrooms, Leslie ran back down the stairs to the kitchen and opened the housekeeper’s purse. That’s where Mrs. Schmidt kept her heart medicine and Christopher had told mer just what to do with it.
They were back at the kitchen table again, after a fruitless search. Of course they hadn’t found Trixie and Leslie knew they wouldn’t. Trixie had a new home now.
“Do you like the stew, Leslie?” Mrs. Schmidt asked.
“Oh, yes. It’s delicious.” Leslie took another spoonful and tried not to grimace as she bit into a piece of turnip.
“Mine has a slightly bitter taste. I think I’ll add a touch of sugar.”
“I’ll get it, Mrs. Schmidt,” Leslie offered, jumping up to get the sugar bowl.
“Thank you, Leslie.” Mrs. Schmidt added a generous teaspoon of sugar to her stew and stirred it in. “Do you want some sugar?”
