“Speaking of which, have you made any progress on Marc’s cryptic love note?” asked Rose.
“Was that a love note? Personally I like a little more lust in my love notes. No, I’ve been wracking what I laughingly refer to as my brain and the only Agatha Christie story I can remember is Ten Little Indians. Since we’re not all marooned together on Indian Island, it’s probably not the mystery he was thinking about.”
“I think we should be thinking in terms of Dorothy Sayers. He signed himself Lord Peter, after all.”
“I always liked Lord Peter. Such a very sexy, nerdy, goofy man. Chasing Harriet Vane and looking for Bunter’s approval.”
“I think we should start rereading the oldies,” suggested Rose.
“It could be a short story, not a novel. I don’t know, it could be something Marc thought up on his own,” said Daisy.
“Wait a minute. Let’s start from when we found Marc. If we’re right and Marc actually found the giant sparkly, it must have been in that desk. I’m guessing that Worthington hid it there. Why he would do that, I do not know. I have to say that this Worthington guy sounds like he was a rare nut.
“Marc must have found it in one of the secret compartments. Boy, I’ll bet that gave him a shock! Okay, then he would have to move it somewhere else. He couldn’t leave it there. He bought the desk to sell, not to keep for himself.
“But whoever attacked Marc must have thought it was still in that desk. Remember, someone tried to pry it apart. Of course, whoever that was had no idea Lord Peter Wimsey was on the job hiding the damned thing.”
“Why didn’t they finish taking the desk apart then?” Rose asked.
Daisy stared out the window in thought. “Oh, my God, Rose. Because we walked in on them. Thank God you’re a jumpy crazy person who screams at her own reflection or we might have been found lying right next to Marc!”
“Okay, who would suspect anything was in that desk? Who would know about the diamond at all? It was stolen ten years ago,” asked Rose. “We’re guessing that Marc probably knew and he’s in the hospital. Ted Williamson might have known and he’s dead. Bill knew about the theft of the diamond. And about the auction. And he’s alive and kicking.”
“Bill may rank right up there with Tiger Woods as lousy husband material, but he’s a good cop,” said Daisy. “He loves the force. It’s the one real point of honor in his life. I can’t see him attacking Marc and I certainly can’t see him killing Ted the Vagrant. And much as I hate him for being such an absolute jerk and shattering my life, I know he would never attack me.
“Besides, even though he knew about the diamond, how would he know it was in the desk? There was a whole houseful of furniture that was auctioned off. Why would anyone assume it was that particular desk?”
“I don’t know,” answered Rose. She picked up her purse and jacket. “Do you mind opening up alone? I’ve got a ton of errands to run and then I thought I’d try Hazel’s shop to see if she has any old mysteries. I could use a distraction even if I can’t find the answer.”
“Good idea. Get a couple for me, too. You take Dorothy Sayers. I’ll try Agatha Christie.”
Rose came back weighed down with a bag full of books. “Hazel was loaded with old mysteries. She says she has more in the attic that she hasn’t had time to catalog, yet.
“I got some great stuff. Christie, Sayers, Conan Doyle, and a Janet Evanovich just because I need a laugh.”
“Great!”
They closed at five and Daisy went with Rose to the hospital to visit Marc.
He had been moved to a regular room which was a good sign. Rose caught the floor nurse and asked for an update.
“His vitals are all good. It seems that his body is just taking its time telling his brain it’s okay to wake up.”
“I guess that’s good news. Is it all right if we sit with him?”
“Best medicine he can have. Your mother is in there now. She’s been here most of the afternoon. What a lovely woman. She brought cake for the nurses.
“I’d like to ask you something about her, though, without meaning any offense at all.”
“Is she totally loony-tunes?” suggested Rose.
The nurse nodded. “It’s just that she, well, I’m not sure how to put it.”
“I do. She’s a card carrying nut. She always has been. But she’s also a loving, kind, generous nut. It’s what makes her so special.”
The nurse smiled and said, “I sort of guessed as much, but I was just a little concerned when she came in today.”
They found Angela sitting next to Marc holding his hand and chatting gaily. They looked at her and immediately understood the nurse’s concern.
She was dressed in a crisp white shirtwaist dress, white stockings, and plain white Keds. Her hair was pulled back from her face and topped with a white headband on which she had appliquéd a small caduceus.
“Taking up nursing full time, are we, Mother?” asked Rose.
“What? Of course not. Marc will be home in a couple of days. I just know it. Lolita visited this morning and she could feel his spirit getting stronger and stronger. She thinks he was trying to tell her something, but couldn’t make it out.”
They sat with Marc for an hour or so, telling him how busy they were in the shop, little everyday things about Malcolm and the neighborhood. They included him in the conversation just as if he could answer.
The nurse came in. “I’m afraid visiting hours are over. We’ll take good care of him tonight.”
Daisy got up and kissed Marc on the forehead. She turned to her mother, “Come home with us. We’ll go out to eat and then we can go through all the books Rose bought today. Spend the night.”
“That sounds like fun. The house feels a little lonely right now. It must be the season.”
It was so rare that Angela sounded even the least bit down that the sisters were a bit surprised. Daisy took her mother’s arm and said, “You need a dog!”
They took their time over dinner. When they got home they sat in the living room and divided the books Rose had bought into three piles. “Holy cow!” exclaimed Daisy. “It’s going to take forever to get through these.”
“We don’t have to read them all. Just page through and look for any involving jewels or hidden clues. That sort of thing.”
“We’ve got Sherlock Holmes, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, and Peter Wimsey here, Rose. There are nothing but jewels, hiding places and hidden clues!”
“But not all have famous gems in them. We’ll just have a look and see if anything jumps out.”
The room got quiet. The only noises were pages turning and some muttering now and then.
Daisy got up and stretched. “I’m getting some cocoa. Anyone else want some?”
Angela looked at the clock. “Lordy days, it’s two in the morning. I got so wrapped up in this story, I haven’t read another thing.” She was holding The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. “Believe it or not, I’ve never read this one.”
They all started laughing. “Two o’clock! I can’t believe it. We’ll be here forever at this rate. I had forgotten how much fun these old mysteries are,” said Daisy. “I’ve been reading a collection of Sayers’ short stories.”
“I’ve been reading The Hound of the Baskervilles. But I’ve got to get to bed. There was no way we were going to get through this whole stack tonight anyway. We may as well take our time and enjoy doing it.” Rose got up and stretched. “Nighty-night, see you in the morning.” She went upstairs. Angela gave Daisy a hug and followed Rose.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” called Daisy. Sitting cozily tucked up in a big armchair cocoa in hand Daisy got busy and started paging through book after book. Most were paperbacks, but a couple were hardbacks in very good condition. She looked at the hardbacks and murmured, “Well I’ll be a monkey’s great aunt Fannie! These all came from Worthington’s estate!”
Finally, yawning, she gave it up for the night. She got up from the chair knocking a book off the pile in the process. She grabbed
for it and caught it by the front cover. A slip of paper fell to the floor.
Daisy picked it up and looked at it. It was a note written to Marcus Worthington by someone named Audrey Milstead. She was thanking him for the flowers. But written in the top corner in different handwriting was, “Doris, she’s at it again! Call Lionel Entwistle first thing.”
She put the paper back in the book and went upstairs, started to undress for bed, then changed her mind. She went back down downstairs, took out the note again, and Googled ‘Lionel Entwistle’ on her computer.
Lionel Entwistle was a Baltimore attorney. She typed Marcus Worthington and pulled up several articles. She found an announcement of the Worthington estate sale handled by Entwistle, Moore and Webster, Attorneys at Law.
“So he was telling his lawyer Audrey Milstead was sending him thank you notes. I wonder why.”
Daisy started to Google Audrey Milstead, but noticed the time. “For crying out loud, what am I doing? This is just dumb. And I’m talking to myself!”
She put the note back in the book, turned off the computer and went to bed.
Chapter Ten
Sunday morning Daisy and Rose were able to take a long morning walk with Malcolm. Angela stayed behind caught up in Roger Ackroyd.
The weather was turning cold, but the sun was bright and it felt good to be outside. Malcolm was having a high old time. He chased some squirrels, ferociously attacked a late blooming mum, and found a very attractive tree stump he appeared to be quite fond of.
As they walked Daisy told Rose about what she had found the night before. “Not that it matters, but I’m just naturally nosy, I guess. I’d love to know why he called his lawyer about some woman writing him a thank you note.”
“I agree. It’s interesting. But we have enough on our plates already. We don’t need any new mysteries.”
When they reached the turn for Azalea Lane, Malcolm ran on ahead and veered off to the abandoned train tracks which crossed the trail.
Daisy called to him, but he ignored her and kept going.
Rose said, “Oh, why not? I’m in no hurry to get home.” So they followed him along the track bed while he darted into the brush looking for whatever it is dogs look for.
They had just crossed under the pedestrian bridge and were ready to turn back when he started barking and ran off to the right.
“What now?” wondered Rose. “It had better not be another body.”
“It couldn’t be, could it? It’s probably just some old humpable bush he’s fallen in love with.
“Come on Malcolm, what’s your problem?”
They tramped into the undergrowth about thirty feet and found what had Malcolm so excited. It was a dilapidated shed hidden by overgrown bushes. Crime scene tape hung in tatters from one corner of the door.
“I’ll bet this is where Ted Williamson was living,” said Daisy.
Rose pulled on the door to open it and the bottom hinge fell off.
“Be careful. This place is falling apart.”
A missing board in the roof of the shack let in the only light. An old mattress that smelled of mildew was in one corner. Other than a few beer cans, a condom wrapper and an old pink flip-flop, the place was empty.
Daisy saw the wrapper and yelped, “Ooh, ooh, gross. Who in her right mind would ever, yuk, I can’t think about it!”
“I think this place is just too sad!” murmured Rose. “I guess the police took anything of Ted’s away.”
“I guess. Looking at this makes me wish we had done something for him.”
They looked around for another minute and turned to go. Malcolm was busy nosing into the mattress and pawing at the floorboards. Daisy put the leash on his collar and tugged. “Come on, Malcolm. It’s not nice in here. Let’s go.”
Malcolm sat down and refused to budge. As she tugged at the leash, his weight forced the loose floorboard to flip up at the other end dumping him unceremoniously into a hole.
“Whoa, goofy guy, are you all right?”
She tried to pick him up, but his paw caught on something lying in the dirt. She disentangled his foot and lifted it out a bundle wrapped in plastic bags. “It’s heavy. It feels like books or something.”
Rose said, “We should probably leave it here and tell Tom Willis about it.”
“Oh, no. The police had their chance. I’m taking this home. If there’s anything in it that they should know about, we’ll give it to Tom.”
Angela was thrilled with their new find. “Ooh, hidden treasure! Life has certainly been exciting lately!
“I guess that’s a rotten thing to say when that poor man was murdered, but I’ve got to admit, being a look-out man and finding buried packages and looking for hidden jewels is lots of fun.”
Daisy spread some newspaper on the table and put the bag on it. Carefully she opened one bag, then another, and another. Finally she hit pay dirt - a flashlight, some batteries, and a couple of hardback books.
“Just something for him to read. Look,” she said as she spread the books on the table, “another mystery lover.” She flipped open the first one and said, “Oh gosh, I think these came from Hazel’s shop.”
“How do you know?” asked Angela.
“Because they were from Marcus Worthington’s estate. Pretentious old bugger had his own bookplates on the fly leafs.”
“Why is that pretentious?” asked Rose. “I used to put bookplates in all my books. I wasn’t pretentious in the least.”
“Of course, you were. You were twelve. At any rate, these came from Worthington’s library. Ted must have stolen them from Hazel’s. That’s just sad. I can picture him reading stolen mysteries by flashlight on that smelly old mattress.”
A piece of paper fell out of one of the books. Angela caught it and said, “What’s this?”
She read for a second and said, “It’s a sheet from a message pad. He had a phone call from Audrey Milstead! Who’s that, I wonder? No message. Only, please return call ASAP.”
“Worthington must have been one of those people who use anything at hand for a bookmark,” said Daisy.
Angela looked confused and Daisy told her about the note she had found the night before.
“I think she was probably his mistress and they parted ways on bad terms. Or perhaps his illegitimate child. Or the wife of his gay lover. Wouldn’t that be something,” laughed Angela.
“It would, but I don’t know what. Enough speculation for now. We’ve got to get to work.”
“Yes, we do,” said Rose. “I wonder if Hazel would mind if I looked through some more of those books. There might be quite a collection of bookmarks!
“If it’s slow this afternoon, I’m going over to look for anything from his library. I think she said there were still a couple of boxes in her attic.”
“Are you going to tell her why you want them?”
“Good point! No, let’s see. If she asks I’ll tell her we’re taking books to the, I don’t know, where do you think? For Christmas. A good deed sort of thing.”
“Lolita told me about a place she volunteers. It’s called The Doorway. It’s a pre-release program for prisoners. They have a library and always need new reading material.”
She thought for a second. “And I don’t think you should just tell Hazel that’s what you’re doing. I think we should take them up there when we’ve finished with them. Along with whatever else we can donate.” Once again Angela looked unusually down for a moment.
“Good plan, Mom. I’ll go online tomorrow and see what sorts of things they need. Cheer up, Marc will be better any day now and we’ll have Mari and Matt home next week.”
“I know. I’m looking forward to that. It’s just that sometimes, I would like everyone to have as much as I do. To be as happy as I am. I’m a mother. We’re trained to fix everything.”
“Well, you fix most things. We sure couldn’t do without you.” Rose gave her a hug.
To Daisy she whispered, “She needs a dog.”
Daisy s
aid, “I can’t believe you’re the one suggesting it. Admit it. Malcolm’s kind of grown on you, hasn’t he?”
“Sort of like a fungus. Maybe he has a brother!”
Hazel and Mary came in about two o’clock. “We’re taking a break today. My daughter is covering for me,” said Mary. “Hazel and I are going Christmas shopping. I was wondering, if Margie gets swamped suddenly could one of you could help her out?”
“Sure, I think we’d be able to do that. Hazel, you’re not opening today?” asked Rose.
“No, I haven’t been quite as busy as the rest of you. Second hand books don’t fly off the shelves at Christmas. I do a lot of business over the internet, now, selling my more valuable books, first editions and things like that. Or by appointment. So I can take this afternoon off.”
“Rats,” said Rose, “It’s been quiet this afternoon and I was hoping to rummage through your books again.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t really need to be there, do I? We’ll settle up tomorrow. If you can get away right now, I could let you in and you can lock up when you leave.
“What’s with all the books? You’re not planning on going into competition with me, are you?”
Rose laughed. “No, Mother wants to take a nice collection up to Baltimore to a sort of halfway house for prisoners. Just a Christmastime goodwill thing. Wait a sec and I’ll get my coat.”
Mary said, “I’ll just run over and let Margie know she can count on you.” She called to Hazel as she was leaving, “I’ll bring the car around to the book store.”
“Sounds good. Rose and I won’t be long. At least I won’t,” called Hazel as she and Rose walked out the door.
Rose was alone in The Book Renew. Roscoe crept out from somewhere and rubbed against her leg. She picked him up and locked the front door.
“It’s spooky in here, isn’t it little guy? I guess you probably don’t mind. You must be used to it. Let’s go upstairs and see what we can find.”
Rose and Roscoe climbed the stair to the attic, but she found the door was locked. “That’s strange. I didn’t think she kept it locked. But then I didn’t say I wanted to look up here, did I? And it’s your mommy’s shop, after all. Let’s see what I can find on the shelves.”
Roses and Daisies and Death Oh My! Page 12
