Death on the Family Tree

by Patricia Sprinkle

  With Dane beside her, she had no problem checking the house from top to bottom. He was perfectly willing to sniff his way in and out of every room. In the basement he had such a fine old time snuffling the dark corners that Katharine began to wonder what small creatures they harbored.

  Back in the kitchen, the big dog stretched out on the cool tile floor and chewed a treat while Katharine called the police for a status report on her break-in. They assured her that the officers who came the night before had filed a crime report and would call her that afternoon.

  Frustrated that nothing was being done at the moment, she decided to make a list of all the people who knew she’d be out and who had access to her key and her security code, then do a little checking on her own. The police would check out Zach, but what if it hadn’t been Zach? She didn’t want to send them to her friends and family until she had eliminated the innocent.

  She fetched a pen and paper and quickly wrote “Hasty, Dutch, Zach.” It took longer to add Hollis to the list, but she told herself, “You can’t leave anybody off until you are sure.”

  She also added Lamar Franklin from the history center. He’d heard her telling Rowena that Tom was coming home Friday and they’d be going out, and a man with his research abilities probably could find information on the Internet about breaking into houses.

  She called Dutch first, because she knew his number by heart.

  He sounded delighted to hear her voice. When she brought up the storm, he said, “Oh, this place lost power soon after dinner, but fortunately I had already gone up to my room. I’d had a touch of indigestion after dinner, and wanted to lie down. But some folks were stranded downstairs without their medications until somebody figured out how to get the generator up and running. What’s the point of having a generator if they don’t train anybody on the nightshift how to use it? One of the residents had to show them how to turn it on.” He wheezed. “If they’d let us, us geezers could run this place a heck of a lot better than they do.”

  “But you were in your room? I tried calling you, and didn’t get an answer.”

  Several seconds of silence filled the line. “You musta dialed the wrong number, Shug. I was right here.”

  “I called your number,” she insisted.

  Silence fell between them, then he admitted with embarrassment she could hear over the line, “I stepped into the facility for a minute and couldn’t make it to the phone.”

  She didn’t mention her intruder. If his touch of indigestion had been a mild heart attack, she didn’t want to bring on another. But she hoped he hadn’t faked the indigestion—and lied about being in his room—to cover up the fact that he had gone out in the storm to rob her. He had always admired Tom’s jade.

  Before she could look up Hasty’s number on her caller ID, the phone rang. She was startled to hear a familiar mountain twang. “Hey, Miz Murray. Lamar Franklin here. Just wanted to be sure you and those things you found are still safe.”

  Was he putting out feelers to see if she had missed the diary yet?

  “Everything is fine,” she said. “Did you all lose power in that big storm last night?”

  “I don’t know. I’m over in South Carolina this weekend making two speeches on genealogical research. Spoke in Greenville last night and I’ll be over in Columbia this evening. But I just wanted to check and make sure you are okay.”

  Katharine assured him she was, and scratched his name off her list. She just wished she could scratch her name off his.

  Which brought her to Hasty, the prime suspect after Zach. He wanted the necklace and the diary, he had possibly memorized her alarm code, and he’d always been good with mechanical things, so he could probably break into a house. On the other hand, he was Hasty, once her dearest friend. She felt guilty for suspecting him. On the third hand, as the father in Fiddler on the Roof would say, she could either check him out herself or turn his name over to the police. That was enough to make her find his number and call it.

  She had planned to chat casually and ask where he’d been the night before, but once she heard his voice on the other end she felt sixteen, not forty-six, and blurted out her troubles like she used to. “I got robbed last night. Somebody took the diary.”

  Silence filled the line. Finally he said, “I thought you were going to put those things in a safe place.” From his tone, he was clenching his teeth and trying not to swear.

  “I did. But I was translating the diary Thursday, and left it on Tom’s desk. Somebody came in last night and took it.”

  “Came in? You mean a burglar?”

  “Yeah. But all he took was the diary and Tom’s jade collection. Every piece of it.”

  “I guess Tom was pretty furious, huh?” Hasty didn’t sound particularly upset by that.

  “Tom doesn’t get furious, but he’ll be upset when he hears about it.”

  “When?”

  “He didn’t get home. And he has an important meeting Monday that he’s preparing for, so I don’t want to bother him yet.”

  “You came back alone to an empty house and found it had been robbed?”

  “I didn’t go out, with the rain and all. I was here the whole time.”

  Hasty swore long and fluently. Was that because he was worried about her or because he was furious she’d been in the house while he was robbing it? It was some comfort that he swore better than the intruder. His next words, however, were not comforting. “So now that priceless diary is gone. Who knows what it might have told us? I warned you—”

  “Don’t, Hasty. I already feel terrible. Besides, I did make a copy.”

  “You did?”

  She reminded herself that the relief in his voice could be faked, that he could have the diary right there beside him. “Sure. While you and Lamar were talking to the policeman.”

  “Well, that’s something. At least the data isn’t lost. How about the necklace?”

  “It’s safe.”

  “Let me keep it until—”

  “It’s safe,” she repeated.

  “That’s what you said about the diary.” With that, he was gone.

  Why should she feel bereft?

  She roamed the downstairs, uneasy and uncertain what to do next. She took out the booklet she had bought on how to install a phone line, but didn’t feel like learning anything new at that moment. Finally she went into Tom’s library and made another copy of the diary so she would have one to write on. His copier wouldn’t do books, but it made excellent copies of flat sheets. While she waited for it to finish, she realized that the diary might tell her when the necklace was found, and where. With a new sense of excitement, she read a page at random. It described an evening in a Biergarten with friends. L2 had taken the others away and left the lovers alone.

  She was trying to make out the next bit when the telephone rang. A clipped voice started speaking as soon as she answered. “Katharine, this is Rowena Slade.”

  “Ohhh—” Katharine drew the word out, trying to figure out how to ask when the Ivories’ dinner meeting had ended and whether Zach could have been burglarizing her house by nine-thirty. Nothing tactful came to mind.

  That didn’t matter, because Rowena didn’t pause long enough for her to speak.

  “Brandon had a great idea about that necklace you found. Daddy’s ninetieth birthday is next month, and we’d like to give it to him, if it turns out to be authentic. I know he told you to call him once you have established its authenticity, but I want you to call me instead. Would you do that, please?”

  “The diary—”

  “We aren’t interested in the diary.” Katharine could almost see Rowena brushing it away. “Daddy has never collected books. But if the necklace turns out to be genuine—”

  A man spoke in the background. “Excuse me,” Rowena said to Katharine, then spoke in a lower voice to somebody else. “I don’t know if she even knows him.”

  “Her son went to school with him, and Hollis is her niece.” It was Brandon, and he sounded real pu
t out about something. “Here, I’ll ask her.”

  His voice came on the line, formal but irritated. “Mrs. Murray, do you know how to reach Zachary Andrews? He was supposed to bring my speech to a dinner last evening, and he never arrived. I had to wing the whole thing. He hasn’t showed up today, either, and he’s supposed to be helping me with logistics for an important march down at the capitol on Monday. Do you have any idea where he might be? We’re getting rather p—ah—perturbed.”

  Katharine got the impression “perturbed” wasn’t his first choice of word.

  “Sorry,” she told him. “I have no idea.” Unless he has hightailed it with my husband’s jade, she wanted to add. But her father had drilled into her all her life that a man is innocent until proven guilty. She added, instead, “I don’t really know Zach. I hadn’t seen him for years until Wednesday night, with you all.”

  Rowena came back on the phone. “So you will call us as soon as you have a price for the necklace?”

  Katharine wasn’t certain she could ever part with the necklace now, but what could she say? Had anybody ever said a successful “no” to Rowena?

  Katharine sat at Tom’s desk and set to work on the diary again. The third entry, dated two days after the former one, was not at all like the ones she had already read. Instead, it was brisk and businesslike:

  Everyone is here. We had our first meeting this evening. All are agreed on what we must do, although some protested the method. L2stressed that unanimity is essential for success, and was able to persuade them all. L2also reported that all supplies have been purchased and stored in safety. D has acquired the necessary skills. I have the maps and schedules. One week from today, we begin.

  Katharine reread what she had written with rising excitement. Perhaps this was Ramsauer’s diary after all, and he had interspersed personal remarks into the report on the dig. Why hadn’t she studied harder, so she could read these pages with ease?

  Dane got up and padded to the door, needing to go out. She left the diary and took him into the front yard where he could chase butterflies for an hour while she did some weeding. They had been there scarcely thirty minutes when she heard a car in the drive and Dane sent up a volley of barks.

  Chapter 16

  Hasty rolled down his window and asked in a mock British accent, “Does your dug bite?”

  Katharine immediately responded with another line from The Pink Panther. “That is not my dug. He’s my brother-in-law’s dug. And if you are nice, he won’t bite.”

  Hasty eyed the taupe snout and sharp teeth warily. “How will he know I’m being nice?”

  “Good point. Come, Dane.” She bent to grab his collar, glad of a reason to duck her head. She didn’t want Hasty to see how glad she was he had come. She told herself she wanted to observe him at close range, to figure out whether he seemed familiar with her house, but because she was generally honest with herself, she also admitted she had gotten tired of her own company that morning.

  He reached into the back seat and brought out two Publix bags. “Lunch,” he announced, holding them aloft.

  As they went inside, she had little luck figuring out whether he seemed familiar with her house, for his whole attention was focused on Dane. “Stay,” she commanded when they reached the kitchen. Dane sat on his haunches like a great taupe god, watching Hasty as though he might be the next sacrifice.

  Hasty started taking food out of the bag and setting it on the counter. “Roast chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, and mixed fruit. Good eating where I come from.”

  “Where I come from, too,” she agreed.

  He looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Nice haircut, Katie-bell. Really dynamite.”

  She flushed at the old pet name and the praise. “Thanks.” She touched it self-consciously.

  Hasty looked around. “Where did the burglar get in? Did he break a window?”

  “Not that the police or I have found. The police said the front door was open when they arrived, but I didn’t leave that door unlocked. He must have gone out that way.”

  “Well, you sure have come up in the world.” He looked around her kitchen, then peered into the backyard with admiration. “This place is elegant and enviable.”

  It was only the truth, so why should she feel defensive? “It’s also empty, now that the kids have gone,” she said sharply.

  He grinned. “So how did your folks like it?”

  She grimaced. “What do you think? Mama’s first comment when she saw it was, ‘Do you plan to open up an orphanage?’ and Daddy’s was, ‘Can you get your money back and support half the homeless in Atlanta?’ But it grew on them. They used to love to come over and swim with their grandchildren.”

  “Do you think you’ll move into something smaller now?”

  She could not imagine Tom ever moving unless he was elderly, decrepit, and too poor to afford a maid, a cook, and a lawn ser vice. He’d been born and bred in Buckhead, and took its amenities for granted. She didn’t say that to Hasty, however. Instead she shrugged. “Maybe, eventually. Jon only graduated last month, so we haven’t talked about it. Have you bought a house in Atlanta?”

  “Not until my wife decides what she’s going to do. For now, I’m in a little apartment about as big as this kitchen.” Still eyeing Dane, he began to roam.

  Dane gave a low growl, but Katharine said, “It’s okay, boy.” They followed Hasty through the dining room, den, and the sunroom. He moseyed, picking up small knickknacks and putting them down. When they reached Tom’s library, he whistled in admiration. “This is one terrific room. Is this where you work?”

  “No, it’s where Tom plans to work when he stops traveling so much. His intention is to read every book on the shelves.”

  “I could go for that, with breaks to swim in that pool out yonder. Man, you folks have got it all, haven’t you?” Before she could reply, he spotted the pages she had left on the desk and hurried to bend over them. “Is this the diary?”

  “Yeah. I was working on it—” She trailed off, because he had picked up the sheet she had just worked on for an hour and scanned it in seconds. His hands trembled.

  “I can’t believe you let it get stolen.” He flung the page back on the desk and stomped across the hall to the music room. He held on to the doorjamb. “What’s this room for?”

  “Nothing much at the moment. We used to have the piano in here, but now I’m fixing the room up for myself.”

  He looked around. “So where’s the piano?”

  “I moved it to the living room.”

  He stepped across the hall and gave the room a long, considering look. “The living room where nobody lives, apparently.” He slid onto the piano bench and lifted the cover from the keyboard. A rippling arpeggio filled the air. “Nice tone.”

  She had forgotten that he played. She had also forgotten how much at home he had always been in her house. He played a thunderous Chopin prelude then stood. “How about lunch?”

  She was ready. It had occurred to her, a bit late, that he was managing to leave fingerprints in every room.

  “How about eating on the patio?” She preferred to have him outside the house. Dane would be happier, too, out where he could roam.

  “Or down by the pool? It’s shadier.” He started putting food back in the bag. “Have you got paper plates in this swanky place, or do we have to use china?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She filled a small cooler with ice, then collected paper plates and napkins and plastic cups and utensils. At the last minute she grabbed up a damp sponge and a couple of placemats. “The table may be filthy. It hasn’t been used all spring.”

  He carried the bags of food and jug of iced tea. “What’s the point of having a place like this if you don’t enjoy it?”

  “Don’t be rude.” She refused to admit she had been asking herself the same question that past week.

  Hasty set out the food while she returned for the telephone and turned on the outside ringer. “In case the police call,�
�� she explained. “They promised to give me a report.”

  Dane explored the yard briefly, then lay with his nose on her toe. Hasty sprawled in a chair across from her and shook his head. “Seriously, Katie-bell, all this for you? Doesn’t it make you feel decadent? When did you last swim in that pool?”

  She tilted her chin. “Yesterday morning. I haven’t had time today. Did you bring a suit?”

  “No, we’ll have to swim another time. But I can’t dive any more. I’ve developed real bad sinuses, so I don’t put my head under water.”

  He had some nerve presuming there would be another time. But that was Hasty all over—give him an inch and he’d take over your whole life. She reached for the carrier and began to spread food on the table.

  He speared a grape from the fruit salad and chewed it thoughtfully. “So who do you think robbed your house? I’d vote for that old hippie, myself. If he’s any good at research, he could find out where you lived and how to break in, and he was mighty interested in the necklace. Seriously, let me put it in a safe place.”

  “It’s in a safe place,” she said hotly. “Besides, Lamar Franklin has an alibi and isn’t the only person interested in the necklace. What about you? Where were you last night?”

  His mouth dropped open. “You think I’d break in your house to get it? I would just come to the front door and ask nicely, ‘Would you hand it over, Kate?’ You’d do it at once.”

  Was he playing a game? He seemed to be joking, but he had been president of the high school thespians. During a performance of Guys and Dolls, he had brought the house down with his performance of a stooped elderly man sweeping the street in the opening scene. Later the principal had run into him in costume in the hall and asked, “May I help you, sir?” before he realized who it was. Katharine’s suspicions sharpened when he leaned back in his chair and asked, “So where are you keeping it?”