Death on the Family Tree

by Patricia Sprinkle

He pulled himself up to rest his arms on the side. She couldn’t help appreciating that he really did look magnificent in a bathing suit. “Yeah, but when you didn’t answer your doorbell, I climbed over. I figured you wouldn’t mind. This feels great. Come on in.”

  If he’d climbed over today, he could have climbed over Friday night.

  She eyed him warily. “Do you make a habit of climbing over people’s walls?”

  He grinned. “Only when the walls are low, the pool inviting, and there’s the potential for good company. Come on, Katie-bell. The water is great.”

  He must not have found the necklace yet, but she moseyed down to the deep end and took a surreptitious look. When she had verified that it still lay on the bottom, she went over and kicked the diving board. “Don’t dive,” she warned. “We haven’t had this checked lately.”

  “I told you, I can’t put my head under water anymore. I get sinus infections.”

  “Good!” She spoke before she thought. “Good idea to swim, I mean.”

  “So are you coming in?” He reached out as if he would drag her in fully dressed, which he had been known to do.

  Katharine stepped back and considered. She hadn’t intended to swim, but the pool did look inviting and she’d rather talk and swim with Hasty than spend the rest of the afternoon alone. Besides, she couldn’t think of any better way to keep an eye on the necklace. In the water, perhaps she could distract him. “Sure. I’ll be right back.” She turned toward the house.

  And how do you plan to distract him? inquired Sara Claire’s disapproving voice in her head.

  She felt her cheeks grow hot. “He’s a friend,” she insisted, lifting her chin defiantly.

  Whom are you trying to convince?

  Flustered, she was glad to hear the phone ringing as she entered the house. “Maybe it’s Tom,” she told Dane. He gave a woof without lifting his head from his big paws.

  Instead it was Dr. Flo. “Katharine? I am sorry to bother you on Sunday, but I have spoken with Cleetie, and she’ll be glad to talk to you. She said she has always wanted—”

  Cleetie? Katharine remembered with difficulty that she was the sister of Alfred Simms, the man convicted of killing Carter Everanes. She tuned back in as Dr. Flo was saying, “—can meet with us Thursday morning. Would that suit you?”

  Katharine cast a quick glance at the calendar over the kitchen desk. “Sure. What time?”

  “About eleven. She’s elderly, so it takes her a while to get going in the morning.”

  As she went up to put on her bathing suit, Katharine wondered what Alfred’s sister could tell her, beyond declaring her brother’s innocence. Could she possibly have any idea who else might have killed Carter? Not that it would matter to anybody, after all these years, but Katharine wanted an answer to that, as well as to the question of who wrote the diary. She had never had a real-life mystery in the family before.

  She had never swum alone with a man since she got married, either. He’s a friend, she repeated to herself as she debated between her three bathing suits. Finally she chose the green—the one Jon said she looked too good in to be anybody’s mother—telling herself she wanted Hasty looking at her instead of the bottom of the pool. It wasn’t until she got back to the pool and saw his glasses lying on the table beside his towel that she realized he probably couldn’t see the bottom of the pool. Unfortunately, he could see her. When she saw the appreciative gleam in his eyes, she knew she should have worn her old black suit, the one Tom swore she had bought in a thrift store where nuns dropped off their used clothing.

  Feeling unusually shy, she made a surface dive and swam to the far side. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” she called to him. When he started her way, she swam underwater to the deep end to make sure the necklace was still safely in place, then turned and did a lap toward the shallow end. He joined her before she got there.

  “Race?” he challenged when they reached the wall. He flipped and was off before she had a chance to reply.

  For the next half hour they raced, swam laps, lazed on foam noodles, and talked about friends neither of them had seen for years. Swimming with Hasty had been a big part of Katharine’s high school years. Except for making sure to keep herself between him and the necklace, she gave herself up to the pleasure of the silky water.

  Then Hasty pointed to a puffy cloud overhead, a brilliant white against the deep blue sky. “I’d give that cloud an A-plus. What would you give it?”

  When she opened her mouth to reply, he splashed her playfully in the face.

  “I’ll give you a drowning,” she retorted and heaved water with both hands.

  He swung an arm around, sent a wave over her, and the battle was on. Like two teenagers they dowsed one another again and again, laughing and shouting.

  Suddenly he pinned her between his outstretched arms against one side of the pool. His lips were smiling, but his eyes weren’t.

  “Get away.” She playfully pushed against him with both hands.

  He grabbed her wrists. She had opened her mouth to protest when he bent and kissed her, hard. Kissing Hasty felt so natural that she found herself kissing back. All the loneliness and frustration of the past week welled up in her, and she pressed herself to him as closely as he pressed to her. She had no idea how long they stood there, reliving the past. He broke the spell when he gently lowered one strap and murmured, his lips close to hers, “How about once, between old friends?”

  That reminded her how many years had passed since Hasty was part of her daily life. Annoyed with them both, she twisted her face away. “Stop it! This isn’t what I want. It’s not what either one of us wants.”

  He grabbed her wrists again. “It’s what I want. And you were acting like it what’s you want.”

  “It isn’t. Not really.” She edged around in small baby steps, turning them both so her back was no longer against the side of the pool. “Let me go, Hasty.”

  He tugged her wrists, drawing her gently toward him. “Make me.” His voice was husky.

  She edged around a little more, to give herself space, then hooked one leg around his knees and pulled while shoving his chest with her hands. It was a trick Jon had taught her. Hasty sank in a cloud of bubbles.

  She swam to the side of the pool and climbed out while he surfaced, gasping. Then she picked up her towel and spoke as if nothing had happened between them. “Time to get out. I have things to do this afternoon.” She tried to think of just one so it wouldn’t be a lie, but her mind was strangely disordered. Kissing Hasty had brought back all sorts of feelings and memories she had thought she had given a decent burial.

  Toweling her hair, she turned her back on his admirable physique as he climbed out, streaming water and furious. “I’ve got enough water up my nose to give me the granddaddy of all sinus infections,” he grumbled. “That was a dirty trick, Katie-bell. I wouldn’t have expected it of you.”

  She gave him her sweetest smile and moved farther away from him. “Raising kids taught me skills I didn’t used to have—or need. Now it’s time for you to leave.”

  He reached for his own towel. “Can I at least go inside to change my clothes? And I had hoped we could translate some more of your pornographic diary.” He put on his glasses and reached for a bag of clothes he’d left on a chair. “And that you’d let me see that necklace again. Where is it, by the way?”

  “Safe. But not where I can get to it real easy. I’ll let you change clothes, though, if you leave right after that. Deal?”

  “Deal.” But the next minute her heart leaped into her throat as he turned toward the deep end of the pool.

  “Where are you going?” Her voice squeaked.

  “To fetch the noodles.”

  “Leave them. I—I may come back out later tonight.”

  “You aren’t going to swim alone, are you? At night? You never used to like swimming at night.” He knelt beside the pool and reached for the purple noodle.

  “Oooh! Snake!” Katharine jumped up and down and poin
ted to a spot in the grass in the other direction. “I think it’s a copperhead!”

  Hasty leaped to his feet and hurried toward her. “Where?” He grabbed up the long-handled net used to scoop leaves from the pool.

  “Heading toward that tree. That one!” Her finger jabbed the air toward a magnolia covered with wide creamy blossoms.

  He started across the lawn, mincing on bare feet. “How far out?”

  “A little farther.” She sidled over and retrieved the noodles. “A little bit farther. Right about there.”

  He peered around. “I don’t see anything.” He bent and examined the grass, then turned and looked at the distance between them. “How could you see it from way over there?”

  “It was closer at first and I was over by the table. But it was moving pretty fast. It’s probably in the bushes by now. Let’s go inside and get something to drink. I’ll tell my yardman to keep a look out for him.” She slung her towel around her like a sarong and led the way.

  “Watch out for Dane,” she warned as she stepped inside.

  The dog was stretched out on the kitchen floor taking a Sunday afternoon snooze. He gave one “woof” when they came in but seemed accustomed to Hasty. Katharine didn’t find that reassuring. If Hasty returned later to look for the necklace—or to pick up where they’d left off—she didn’t want him greeted with licks and slobber.

  She pointed him toward the downstairs bathroom and took Dane upstairs with her while she changed. “You are here to protect me,” she reminded the dog. But she locked her door before she stripped.

  She slipped on a white shirt and some comfortable striped sand pants, then took a few minutes to blow-dry her new hairstyle into fluffy waves. When she finally ran barefoot down the stairs, Hasty sat at the breakfast room table drinking iced tea.

  “Well, make yourself at home,” she said sarcastically.

  “I did,” he said with perfect equanimity. “You saving that cake for something special?”

  She sighed, thinking of her ruined birthday celebration. “I was, but we might as well eat it.”

  Katharine could see why scientists claimed chocolate was good for women. After a big slice of chocolate cake with sticky fudge icing, they were both so mellow they chatted idly about this and that. She even dared to ask, “Did you think about what I said, about calling Melissa and Kelly to come down for a visit?”

  “I’m thinking about it. I don’t have a place for them to stay, though. When I got down here, I was so mad at Melissa and in such a hurry to start the semester, I took the first place I found. It’s tiny. But my lease is up in August. I thought I’d look for something bigger and maybe invite them down then.”

  If he thought she’d invite them to stay with her, he had another think coming. “Atlanta has a hotel or two,” she pointed out. “Or you could find a bigger place and sublet the little one.”

  “Maybe.” She could still read his face. He didn’t want to talk about it.

  The doorbell rang. “Grand Central Station,” Kate muttered, heading to the hall. And to think, three hours earlier she had thought that day was boring.

  Hollis stood on the veranda with Amy behind her. Both looked strained and Amy had tear-stained cheeks and damp lashes. Her birthday hairdo was a thing of the past. Long straight hair hung limp and lifeless on both sides of her pallid face and she clutched one hand to her throat, as if afraid Katharine might throttle her instead of inviting her in. The sophisticated young woman of Wednesday had become a child with woebegone brown eyes and a clownish red nose.

  Make that a child dressed in what Katharine knew for a fact was a five hundred dollar powder-blue cotton sundress with a matching sweater and three hundred dollar powder-blue sandals. It had been years since she had catalogued things by their price. Was Hasty making her look at her world through new eyes? Or was she getting back her old ones?

  Hollis was wearing a red-and-black long skirt, a black T-shirt, and her black flip-flops.

  Katharine stood back to let them in. “Come on back to the breakfast room. I’m eating cake.” Not until they got to the kitchen did she remember Hasty.

  When Hollis saw him at the table, she turned back toward the door. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  “I don’t.” Katharine took her arm and dragged her back. “This is Hobart Hastings, the Emory history professor. You all met Wednesday, remember? We’ve been talking about the diary. Sit down and let me get you a piece of cake and a glass of tea. Or would you rather have hot tea?” Amy’s teeth were chattering and she was shaking like she was naked on an ice floe.

  Hollis, on the other hand, looked flushed and warm. Katharine hoped that wasn’t because of Hasty. She also hoped Hollis didn’t notice that she and Hasty were both barefoot and his hair damp, or that his bathing suit lay wrapped in a towel on the countertop. She shielded it with her body and carried it into the laundry room. He watched with a smug grin.

  “Hot tea, please.” Hollis collapsed into the chair beside Hasty and smoothed back her hair with both hands, an unexpectedly sensual gesture. As Katharine filled the kettle, she noticed that Hollis had cheered up enough that day to paint her nails bright red.

  “So what do you teach?” Hollis asked, leaning on her elbows and leaning toward Hasty in what Katharine could only call a seductive pose.

  “European history,” he told her.

  Amy sat down across from him. “You were Zach’s advisor. Zach Andrews? He graduated last month. Do you remember?”

  Hasty grimaced. “My memory may be slipping, but it stretches back that far. Zach would make a fine historian, if he applied himself. Tended to be a bit lazy, though. What’s he doing now?”

  “Working for the Ivorie Foundation. You know, my brother, Brandon.” Amy took it for granted that everybody knew her brother, Brandon.

  Hollis turned to Katharine, “I hope you don’t mind us just showing up, but we’re worried, and we can’t talk at my house or Amy’s.” She bent to stroke Dane, who was leaning against her leg.

  “Of course.” Katharine fetched mugs and two tea bags. When the kettle boiled, she poured steaming water into Hollis’s mug and held the kettle aloft. “Do you want hot tea, too, Amy?”

  Amy brushed away her tears. “Do you have herbal tea? Caffeine is so bad for you.”

  “Somewhere.” Katharine rummaged in the pantry and found an assortment of herbal teas Susan had bought last time she was home. She poured water into a mug for Amy, fetched sugar and milk and spoons, and added a dish for their used bags. Then she cut two slices of cake and found forks and napkins. Neither girl made a move to help. If she ever needed to go to work, Katharine reflected, maybe she could get taken on at a Waffle House.

  She had just sat down beside Hasty when Amy asked, “Do you have honey?” Katharine returned to the pantry for a clear plastic bear with a yellow hat that doubled as a spout. She set it before Amy, who was staring at her tea bag, but making no move to open it or put it in the water. She seemed to take seriously the concept of being waited on hand and foot. However, Katharine had done all the waiting she intended to do. She slid into the seat across from Hollis. “So, what’s happened?”

  Hollis looked at Amy. “Zach has disappeared!” Amy declared. “He—he’s not anywhere,” she added, in case there was something about the word “disappeared” the grown-ups didn’t grasp. Tears filled her eyes. “Papa and Brandon have had the police looking for him since yesterday, but nobody can find him.”

  “Maybe he’s with his parents,” Katharine suggested.

  The tears spilled out onto her cheeks. “No, ma’am. They’re on a Baltic cruise.”

  Katharine didn’t trust herself to look at Hasty. She looked at Hollis instead. Hollis’s eyes were surprisingly dry. Maybe she was too worried to cry?

  Hasty reached over, unwrapped Amy’s tea bag and dipped it in and out of the water, then wrung it out efficiently with a spoon and laid it in the bowl. He squeezed in some honey and pushed Amy’s tea toward her hand. “Here, drink this.
It will make you feel better.”

  “Nothing will make me feel better except finding Zach,” Amy declared. But she obediently sipped the tea, alternating sips with heavy sniffles through her nose.

  Katharine looked from one girl to the other. Hollis shrugged. “Maybe you’ve already figured it out, but I’m not dating Zach, Amy is. Her family would freak out if they knew, though, so we’ve been pretending.”

  “I’m not just dating him,” Amy corrected her, chin in the air. “I am going to marry him. Just as soon as Mama has time to go see the lawyer.”

  “Amy came into a trust fund from her father on her birthday,” Hollis explained, “but her mother has been too busy to take her down to the lawyer to sign all the papers.”

  “Then we are going to get married.” Amy gave a watery smile, her cheeks pink.

  It seemed to Katharine that a woman old enough to inherit a trust fund and get married ought to be mature enough to take herself down to the lawyer’s to sign her own papers, but she didn’t mention that. She also feared that Zach wasn’t marrying Amy for her watery charms. Was he working for the Ivories in order to worm his way into their graces, so they wouldn’t object to the marriage? After all, what Amy got from her father would be peanuts compared to what she would inherit from her mother’s side of the family one day.

  So why had Zach disappeared?

  Hasty reached for a box of tissues and handed it to Amy. “Blow your nose and let’s think where he might have gone.”

  Fathering a daughter had apparently taught him some skills, for Amy sat up at once, blew her nose, and obediently began to speak. “He’s not at his apartment, because the police went over there, and he’s not at work, because Brandon is furious, and he’s not at his parents’ because the police looked there, too. Besides, they are on—”

  “A Baltic cruise,” Hasty finished for her, looking at Katharine.

  She concealed her snort of laughter with a cough. “Couldn’t he be at a friend’s house?” she asked. “Or visiting grandparents? Or maybe he’s out of town on private business.”

  “What kind of business?” Hollis narrowed her eyes as she looked at her aunt.