A Case of You

by Rick Blechta

  The young girl stepped out the back door, obviously having kept an eye on her grandmother. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, Suzanne,” the old woman answered.“We’re just digging around in some bad old memories.”

  Shannon had poured more tea, and the old woman gratefully took a sip. “You’re so kind.”

  “I’m sorry to have to bring it up, but it’s, well, it’s important.”

  “I understand.” Darcy took another sip of tea. “That was the worst day of my life, with the exception of when my Clement passed away so long ago. Miss Olivia’s tragedy, now that’s much fresher in my mind.

  “What is there to say? The family was in Florida for the holidays, even though Mrs. Maxine was really the only one who wanted to be there. She would have got rid of me by then if she could have, but Mr. Bernard insisted that his daughter needed me. I’d stopped being her nanny by then, of course, and had become more like a maid to her. To be honest, I felt he wanted me to keep an eye on her. I guess on that sad, sad night, I didn’t watch her closely enough.”

  Now was the moment. “You had to have heard the whispering, maybe even the police spoke to you about it: do you think it’s possible Olivia St. James murdered her brother?”

  “You do get to the point, young lady.”

  “I’m sorry to have been so blunt.”

  “No, no, that’s quite all right. Old ladies tend to go on sometimes.” Darcy Jeffries wouldn’t look at Shannon while she answered. “At first, even though I couldn’t say it out loud, I thought she might have done it. Her drawings and paintings had been growing more hateful for several months. I didn’t enjoy looking at them any longer. “After they took her away, it was my job to pack all her belongings away for storage, and I found something.”

  “What?”

  “A journal. I’d never seen her with it, but since I’d confronted her about the drugs, we hadn’t been so close. I guess she decided to confide to empty pages rather than to her old Darcy. Anyway, it was hidden in the back of her closet.”

  “And what did the journal say?”

  “Many, many hateful things. I don’t like to think about most of it.”

  “I’m sorry, but it might really help to know.”

  Her face looked pained as she began speaking. “First of all, Miss Olivia hated herself. She felt she was to blame for her momma’s death. She could have called out or run to her, pushed her out of the way. She saw that car coming for her. That’s what she said. She also knew that heroin was driving a wedge between herself and her family.”

  “Heroin is a pretty major drug to be taking.”

  “Perhaps she used it to dull the pain, but why didn’t she come to someone who loved her, come to me for help?” Her face crumpled in anguish. “I would have done anything for that child!

  “The last entry was the night before her brother was... her brother died. Miss Olivia felt that everyone was leaving her, that she would literally be left all by herself. She blamed Mrs. Maxine. She said things about her stepmother that make me blush just to think of them. I don’t know where she learned about things like that!”

  “What happened to the journal?”

  She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know.”

  “Are there friends of hers whom I can speak to, people she may have confided in?”

  “There were bad folk she ‘hung out’ with very occasionally, but somebody you or I might call a friend? Not really. She preferred being by herself. I think that contributed to her problems. I even spoke to Mr. Bernard about it once. He told me not to worry.”

  “So, after reading this journal, you felt Olivia did not murder her brother?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there were many beautiful things in it, as well. They were surrounded by filth, but even a beautiful flower can grow in a dung heap. It was as if my poor darling was at war with herself.” The sun had gone behind a cloud, and the woman shivered, “I’m afraid it’s getting late, and an old lady like me needs her nap in the afternoon.”

  “You’ve been most generous with your time.”

  Shannon got to her feet, then helped the old woman to hers. By the side of the chaise were two canes. Mrs. Jeffries leaned on one, but the detective also offered her arm as they made their way slowly to the house.

  “I have one more question for you: does the name Margaret Springfield mean anything to you, or Maggie?”

  Mrs. Jeffries shook her head. “Why do you ask?”

  “We think she also left Sunnyvale when Olivia did.”

  “I’m sorry. I never heard that name before.”

  As they got to the porch, she looked up at Shannon and asked, “And you say my little dove was singing in a band?”

  “Yes, and I’ve heard a recording. It is very, very good.”

  “I would dearly love to hear that!”

  “I’ll send you a copy as soon as I get back to Toronto.”

  Once in the kitchen, Mrs. Jeffries sat heavily on a chair, clearly taxed. “Where are you going to next, dear?”

  “New York City. I’m hoping to speak with Mrs. St. James.”

  Darcy’s expression became very hard. “Would you ask her for me where she was when young Mr. Bernard was murdered? I told the police they should ask her that, but you know what it’s like. Who listens to an old Negro woman?”

  Chapter 12

  Just before leaving the Jeffries’ house in Mamaroneck, the old woman decided that the P.I. should speak with the St. James’s long-time butler, who lived nearby. Since it was barely mid-afternoon, this seemed like a good idea. Shannon could tackle her New York itinerary the next day.

  A quick phone call got it all set up. James Davis would see her as soon as she could get there.

  “Jim can certainly give you more up-to-date information than I can,” Mrs. Jeffries said at her door. “He’s a good man, but be truthful with him. He doesn’t suffer deception lightly, especially where his former employers are concerned.”

  Shannon was now threading her way back across Westchester County to Tarrytown. This time she wasn’t so lucky. Between traffic and confusing road signs, she managed to get lost once and almost ended up crossing the Hudson River on the Tappan Zee Bridge. To avoid that, she had to make a white-knuckle cut across two lanes at the last minute, barely making the exit ramp in time.

  James Davis was living in a retirement home off the town’s main street and right down by the river. The sun was getting low against the hills rising from the opposite shore, lighting up the water and dazzling Shannon’s eyes as she crossed the small lobby. A tall, grey-haired black man in a three-piece suit and spit-polished shoes rose from one of the couches when she told the person behind the desk why she was there.

  “It’s me you’re looking for, ma’am,” he said, his voice deep and rich.

  Shannon took a few steps, holding out her hand, then watched as it disappeared into one of the biggest hands she’d ever seen. “Shannon O’Brien. Thank you for seeing me.”

  “James Davis, but you be sure to call me Jim, young lady. Everyone around here does, right, Shirley?” he said, winking at the woman behind the front desk. “I thought we might have some coffee in the dining room. It won’t be busy for another hour and I’d like you to see my river.”

  “Oh, it’s your river?”

  “I’ve lived by or near the lordly Hudson all my life, so I feel like I own a little part of it.”

  By that time they’d entered the dining room, and the view of the river was truly magnificent. Davis helped Shannon into a seat with practised form.

  “Now what do you think? Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Absolutely. The river is quite wide here.”

  “This is the Tappan Zee. The area was settled by the Dutch. They used to catch some big fish out there, even sturgeon in years past.”

  A waitress came over.

  “Coffee, please, Irma, for my guest and myself.”

  As she walke
d away, Davis confided in Shannon, “I still haven’t gotten used to not getting it myself.” When the coffee was served, he took a sip, then said,“I want to make it clear to you that the reason I’ve agreed to speak with you is mostly because of my long acquaintance with Mrs. Jeffries.”

  Mostly? Shannon thought. That’s a very interesting choice of words.

  She didn’t pursue it, however, not wanting to jeopardize the voluntary interview. Sometimes she missed being a cop and being able to throw her weight around a bit when needed.

  “So what is your visit all about?”

  Shannon had decided to use her digital recorder so that her mind would be more free to frame questions and watch for small nuances in facial expressions and body language.

  “Do you mind?” she asked, indicating the recorder. He nodded his assent, so the detective began her gentle interrogation. “You worked for the St. James family.”

  “Two months shy of sixty-five years.” At Shannon’s obviously surprised expression, he added, “My daddy got me a job with the St. Jameses when I was fifteen. I went on to serve as their butler for over forty years.”

  “That’s an impressive length of time.”

  Davis nodded and took another sip. “You mentioned something on the phone about Miss Olivia.”

  Shannon laid out the story of the singer at the Green Salamander who turned out to be Olivia St. James, leaving out the part about her friend’s murder.

  Davis listened intently, nodding on occasion, but not interrupting.

  “And you’re sure this was Miss Olivia?”

  “Absolutely, but it took some digging to discover her identity. It came as quite a shock to my client. She would never tell him anything about herself.”

  “It comes as quite a shock to me. Does the family know?”

  “That’s something I can’t answer. According to the institution itself, she is there and has never left. I know otherwise. If you want my opinion, now that they’ve got her back, they’re trying to cover up the fact that one of their patients was missing for over six months. What can you tell me about Olivia’s, ah, troubles?”

  Davis nodded. “I’ve tried to put that whole awful year out of my mind. First Master Bernard, then Miss Olivia and finally Mr. Bernard. The whole family just crumbled in front of our eyes.” He shook his head sadly.

  “I’ve got Mrs. Jeffries’ opinions and views on the family, especially about Olivia, and I was hoping you’d give me yours. I’d especially like to know what’s been going on since she was sent to Sunnyvale.”

  “Anything I say would be two years out of date. I’ve had no contact with them since I retired.”

  “I need any information I can get.”

  “What is it you’re looking for?” he asked.

  “To be honest, I really don’t know yet.”

  “Darcy Jeffries has told you that she doesn’t think Miss Olivia murdered her brother. Is that it?”

  “I’m keeping an open mind on everything. All I want is your input.”

  “I think that you should know that Darcy was let go right after the murder. She’d been with the family for over twenty years. I guess they felt someone had to take the blame, in a small way, for what happened. But the firing has weighed heavily on her ever since. It might have coloured what she’s told you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Why don’t you just ask me questions, and I’ll answer them as I see fit, okay?”

  Shannon nodded. “Would you describe Olivia to me? I’m looking for a gut reaction. Don’t think too much, just talk.”

  Davis ignored her and looked out the window at the Hudson. Over to the left, the bridge, a huge, brooding presence when seen from up close and below, dominated the scene.

  “She was... is a very complicated person. I personally found her strange, even as a child.”

  “In what way?”

  “She kept to herself a lot but didn’t seem unhappy. She constantly drew and sang, and often seemed to be in a fog, quite frankly. I don’t know what her parents expected from her, but they weren’t happy about her lack of application to her studies. She didn’t have many friends.

  “Then there was the horrible death of her mother. I can see now it was the defining moment in her life. After that, everything seemed to fall apart for her. It must have been tough, but her father, in his own grief, was very distracted.”

  “How did she change?”

  “You spoke about all this with Darcy Jeffries?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You have to understand, Ms O’Brien, that the St. James family was very good to me over the years, and I still owe them a great deal of loyalty. Darcy doesn’t feel quite the same as I do.”

  “I know that she has a problem with the current Mrs. St. James, but her loyalty to Olivia is certainly great. She confirmed what I’d already heard from other sources about the drug use, if that’s why you’re hesitating.”

  Davis looked down at his empty coffee cup. The waitress was nowhere to be seen.

  “There is that, yes. As I said, Miss Olivia kept to herself. That’s not quite the right way to put it. It’s more that she was secretive. No one knew about the drugs for quite a long time, and they might never have if it wasn’t for the time she overdosed.”

  This was something new.“And how old was she?” Shannon asked, as if her recollection of this event had failed.

  “Let’s see, she would have been seventeen. Her brother found her collapsed in her bathroom. The doctor figured she’d gotten a supply of heroin that was stronger than she was used to. I heard all this from Mr. Bernard. He came to me because he didn’t know who else to talk to.”

  “You must have felt honoured.”

  “Over the years we’d become a little more than employer and butler. I’d known him all of his life. The poor man was horrified, of course, and blamed himself for not seeing it.”

  “It was all hushed up very well.”

  “That was one thing wrong with that family, if I may be so bold. Except for the week she had to be hospitalized, there was no discussion of Miss Olivia being treated anyplace other than home. But they not only hushed things up to the outside world, they hushed it up among themselves. What happened to Miss Olivia was never mentioned by the family in my hearing. It was as if it had never happened.”

  “They got her help, of course.”

  “Certainly. Now that I knew about her difficulties, I kept a very careful watch, and there were several times I thought she seemed to be ‘under the influence’, shall we say. I couldn’t get any proof, and Mrs. Jeffries never saw the girl without clothes any more, so she couldn’t check for needle marks. She always wore long sleeves and jeans or slacks, if that’s any indication.”

  Shannon thought that it might be. “How did Olivia get along with her stepmother?”

  “Again, I can’t really say. Outwardly, things seemed fine, although they hardly ever spoke. The only time I personally heard them have words was over her wanting to talk to her daddy and Mrs. Maxine saying that he couldn’t be disturbed.”

  “Do you remember what was said?”

  “You have to realize that Miss Olivia was maybe nineteen at the time, and a lot of children have trouble with parents at that age.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Miss Olivia said she was unhappy with the way her stepmother treated her. She didn’t want to be told when she could and could not see her own father. Actually, I was shocked to hear her speak this way. She was usually so docile and quiet.”

  “Tell me about Olivia’s mother, the first Mrs. St. James.”

  “She was a loving, caring parent and wife, always ready to help others. Mrs. Lydia was the person responsible for me getting more education, and for that I will always be grateful. It was a real tragedy when she died. We all suffered from that loss.”

  “And the current Mrs. St. James?”

  Davis looked troubled, and Shannon felt that his professed loyalty to the family might be getting in th
e way. It also meant that she really needed to hear the former butler’s assessment.

  “Believe me,” she said as earnestly as she could,“that anything you say will be in the strictest confidence. You have my absolute word on that.”

  “Please don’t take this wrongly, but I don’t know you.”

  “I understand. Is there anything you can tell me about her?”

  “Mrs. Maxine is a very complicated person, very capable, intelligent, but she can also be very hard. She is not afraid to say what she thinks, and sometimes this creates friction in her relationships with people.”

  “She was originally a lawyer, I believe.”

  “She still is, although she doesn’t take on clients. I do believe she manages the St. James holdings as well as Mr. Bernard did and probably better than his son would have.”

  “Did she love her husband?”

  “Now that is an odd question! Of course she did. She nursed him herself in his last months, and made his passing as easy as possible.”

  “Was she a good wife?”

  “I believe she was exactly what Mr. Bernard needed when he married her.” Davis got to his feet. “I don’t want to seem rude, but there is a TV show I like to watch at this time every day.” He smiled. “For so many years, my time was very seldom my own, and I am enjoying having that freedom for my remaining years.”

  Shannon also got up and shook his hand. “I appreciate you meeting with me. You’ve been very generous with your thoughts. One last question, though?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Do you think Olivia St. James could have murdered her brother?”

  He frowned. “She was certainly acting irrationally those last months. Some of it was no doubt due to her father’s worsening medical condition. He didn’t hide the fact that he had only a short time to live. Miss Olivia was taking drugs again, although where she was getting them was a mystery. She barely left the house, and never without being accompanied by either Mrs. Jeffries or the chauffeur.”

  “Whose idea was that?”

  “Mine. I thought it for the best.”