“Selling your Uncle Tom’s jade,” Katharine felt like saying. Hollis must know that was what she suspected. Instead she shrugged. “You all would know better than we would.”
Amy swabbed her eyes and shook her head. “He doesn’t have any business except Brandon’s, and I don’t know about his friends or relatives. He never mentioned any. You don’t know who they are do you?” she asked Hasty.
He shook his head. “Sorry. That never came up in conferences.”
She sat up straighter in her chair and said with pathetic dignity, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Murray, for falling apart like this. You are very nice to let us come over.”
As if Katharine had had any say in the matter.
“Would you all like to talk privately?” she suggested to Hollis.
Hollis’s gaze flitted from her to Hasty and back. Did she think Katharine was asking for private time with him?
“Hobart was about to leave,” Katharine said firmly.
Hollis stood. “Then come on, Amy, let’s go to the library.” She pushed back her chair.
“I need to use the powder room first,” Amy said primly.
Hollis waited until she was gone, then leaned forward and asked, “Are you staying here tonight? Mama said you are.”
Katharine was touched by the worry in her eyes, but was there a bit of fear, as well? What did Hollis know? And how could she encourage her to tell it?
“I can’t go on staying with your folks forever.” She tried for a light tone.
“But if somebody came in—” Hollis broke off, her voice strained.
“—if he came for the necklace and didn’t get it, he may come back,” Hasty added.
“I’ve got Dane.” Katharine bent and stroked the soft ears. He gave a low “woof.”
“I’m staying over.” Hollis’s expression was belligerent. Katharine suspected she thought Hasty was fixing to offer the same ser vice.
“Or I could take the necklace and keep it safe,” he suggested with a sideways glance at Katharine.
“The necklace is safe and I have Dane,” she told them both with more confidence than she felt—and, she suspected, a whole lot more than she would feel around eleven that night. As much to convince herself as them, she said firmly, “He’s not going to let anybody in the house. Now you need to leave,” she told Hasty, “and you need to talk to Amy,” she reminded Hollis. “I’m sorry about Zach,” she added, “but he’ll probably turn up in a day or two.”
“I hope so,” Hollis said soberly. “Otherwise, I don’t know what Amy might do.”
Chapter 19
After the girls went to the den, Katharine expected Hasty to leave. Instead, as he carried his dishes to the sink, he noticed the bag she had gotten from the telephone store. “Are you swapping out a telephone?”
“No, I plan to install one, if I can figure out how. I want one in my new study.”
“Show me where, ma’am. I’ll have it done in a jiffy.”
Hasty always had been handy, and she did want the phone installed, so Katharine led him to the music room. While he was working, Hollis and Amy came out and Hollis decided that was as good a time as any to get the room ready for the painters. Katharine suspected that had something to do with not leaving her alone with Hasty. By the time he had the phone installed, Hollis and Katharine—supervised by Amy—had rolled the rug and moved it and the secretary into the front hall and had taped old sheets over the bookshelves.
After that, it would have been churlish to send them home unfed. Katharine ordered pizza and they ate out by the pool. Amy had a few qualms about eating pizza made by human hands she was not absolutely certain had been thoroughly washed, but once they got past that objection, supper was a lighthearted meal. Katharine was almost sorry when it was over. As they rose to carry things back in, the telephone rang. She ran in to answer, leaving the others to clear up.
“Katharine?” It was Tom, his voice concerned. “Are you all right? Posey called this afternoon and said you had a break-in. I’d have called earlier, but things are real hairy up here, getting ready for the meeting, and I just listened to my messages.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Somebody broke in Friday night while I was asleep, but I heard him downstairs, so I went to Jon’s hideout and locked the bolt. Then I called the police on my cell phone. I really am fine.” She noticed she was reassuring him as she always did that she was perfectly able to cope while he was away, so she added, “But it was terrifying at the time—one of the scariest experiences of my life. I sure wished you were here.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t.” The words were the right ones, but he sounded as if his attention had drifted away. Then she heard voices in the background and knew he was still at the office, making final preparations for their big meeting. “Did they take anything?” he asked. When she hesitated, he added, “Posey said you’d have to tell me about that.”
Bother Posey. Why couldn’t she have let Katharine tell Tom in her own time and her own way?
She sighed. “I didn’t plan to tell you until after your meeting, but whoever it was got your jade.”
“All of it?” He sounded like somebody was choking him.
“Every last piece. I’m real sorry, honey.”
He was silent for a long minute. “Nothing you could have done, I suppose.” She got the impression he himself would have managed to think of something. “Did he get anything else?”
“Nothing I’ve missed yet, except a diary I found among Aunt Lucy’s things.”
She realized with a shock that while the necklace and diary had occupied most of her thoughts and time for the past four days, Tom didn’t even know they existed. Nor was he interested in a diary right that minute.
“Have they caught whoever it was?” When she admitted they hadn’t, he said, “Call the police tomorrow and tell them to get a jump on it. And take them the pictures from the safe-deposit box. Maybe they can trace at least some of the jade. And you need to—”
“I’m dealing with it,” she said sharply, “just like I always deal with emergencies when you aren’t here. Don’t hassle me, Tom, when you aren’t around to pick up some of the load.”
Silence flowed from D.C. to Atlanta. Finally he asked, “You aren’t staying at the house until they catch him, are you?”
“I stayed with Posey for two nights. Now I’ve borrowed Dane. He’ll protect me.”
His voice grew sharp. “You aren’t letting that dog in the house, are you?”
“Well, yes. He wouldn’t be much protection in the backyard.”
“He’ll pee on the rugs. Keep him out of the music room.”
“I’ve moved the music room rug. It’s rolled up in your office for you to decide what to do with when you get home.”
“Why on earth—” His voice was baffled.
He probably didn’t want to discuss rugs at the moment, but she told him anyway. “I’m turning the music room into my study, so I’ve bought a new rug I like better.”
“Will I like it?”
“I have no idea. It’s not your study.”
She missed his reply, because the girls and Hasty came into the kitchen just then, laughing and talking loudly. “Who’s that?” Tom asked.
She was tempted to retort, “I don’t ask who is talking in your background.” Instead she lowered her voice, hoping the others couldn’t hear. “Hollis, a friend of hers, and a history prof I ran into at the history center last week. They came over for a while and stayed for pizza. He installed a new phone in my new study.”
“You’d better have somebody check it out. I doubt a history professor knows much about installing phones. Well, I need to go. I’m sorry about the jade, but I’m glad you’re okay. Listen, why don’t you fly up here for a few days? You can visit museums or something while I’m at work, and I’ll feel a lot better without you in the house by yourself until they catch that guy. See what time you can get a flight and let my office know when you’ll be coming in.”
Kat
harine almost said yes, but then she remembered that she needed to talk to Dutch Monday and wanted to take the necklace to their safe-deposit box. Hollis’s painters were coming Tuesday and would need at least two days, and she had to meet with Dr. Flo’s cousin on Thursday. “I’m sorry, hon, but I’m tied up until Thursday afternoon. Could you come home early? Or could I fly up Thursday and we could go somewhere for a long weekend?”
If he had begged her to come, she would have canceled everything in a heartbeat. Instead, he said in a surprised tone, “What’s so all-fired important?”
“My life,” she said before she thought. “Everything is not about you, Tom.”
Hasty spoke right over her shoulder, and she wondered how long he’d been there. “We’re going, Kate. Will you be all right?”
“Who’s that?” Tom demanded.
She gestured for Hasty to move away. “The history prof.” She ignored Hasty’s snort and said quickly, “Listen, I need to go. Can I call you back later?”
“No, a bunch of us are heading out to eat, then we want to wind up loose ends for tomorrow’s meeting. I’ll call you tomorrow night and tell you how it went. We can make plans then. Goodnight.”
It was not a satisfactory call, but she’d gotten used to that, being apart so much. Some calls were good, some were so-so, and some were the pits. That one hovered on the brink of the pits.
Katharine and her guests moved to the front hall. “You’ll be all right?” Hasty asked again at the front door.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
“Shall I come back tomorrow to work on the diary? I could even take one of the copies with me and get a head start.”
“You made copies?” Hollis asked from behind Kate. “So it’s not a total loss?”
“I made copies,” Katharine told her, “but it may be a total loss. Hasty thinks it’s not very old and certainly not valuable.”
“So why are you translating it?” Her eyes roved speculatively from one to the other.
“Because it’s still a historical document,” Katharine said.
“Because it’s there,” Hasty added with a grin. “You’ll talk to Dutch, Kate?”
“Tomorrow at the latest,” she promised. “Good night.”
“What could Uncle Dutch know?” Hollis demanded as Hasty headed down the steps.
Katharine shrugged. “Probably nothing, but he knew Aunt Lucy and her friends.”
Amy stepped from behind Hollis and held out her hand. “Thank you so much, Katharine. I had a really good time.”
Katharine couldn’t remember the last time somebody Amy’s age had shaken her hand as they left a casual event—probably when Jon was about twelve.
“I wasn’t real good company,” Amy continued, “since Zach—” She blinked away tears “—you know. But you all helped me forget for a little while. He’ll probably be back tomorrow.”
When Hollis stayed behind, Katharine asked, “Didn’t you all come together?”
“Yeah.” Hollis fondled Dane’s ears. “But I’m staying. I don’t want you here by yourself.”
Did she think Hasty was coming back? Or was she worried that Zach might return for the necklace?
“I don’t need you,” Katharine said firmly. “I have to start staying by myself again some time, so I might as well start now. I’ve got Dane. Amy,” she called loudly so the girl could hear. “Wait a minute. Hollis needs a ride.”
As she closed the door and locked it, Katharine reflected that if she didn’t take control of her own life, there were a lot of people willing to run it for her.
She considered watching TV, but in spite of her brave words, she didn’t feel like sitting in a big empty house for two or three hours waiting for bedtime. She’d go see Dutch. It wasn’t yet nine, and that old night owl wouldn’t go to bed for ages.
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised Dane as she went for her keys. She took Lucy’s oldest album and one copy of the diary along.
Dutch greeted her in a faded bathrobe, blue striped pajamas, and slippers so old and tatty that the Salvation Army would have turned them down. When he saw who it was, he took her arm and dragged her into the room, looking both ways to make sure nobody was watching. “Don’t want the hall biddies getting the wrong idea,” he said gruffly. “They talk enough as it is. To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?”
“I was a little lonesome, to tell the truth. Tom didn’t get home—remember? And you’re one of the few people I know whom I can visit this late.”
“Well, sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
“Which isn’t exactly easy, is it?” she teased, heading for a scruffy old sofa that she knew had spent years down in his basement.
In contrast to the elegance of Autumn Village and the comfortable living quarters of most of its residents, Dutch’s living room was Spartan. With his usual stubbornness, he had brought only his favorite things to his new home: the scruffy sofa, a massive walnut desk, his computer and printer, a gray metal filing cabinet, several mismatched bookshelves, a small kitchen table and two chairs that had also been relegated to the basement years before, and a wide-screen TV. Not one picture hung on the walls. He had placed the desk in the best spot in the room, over by the window where the light was strong, and had filled the shelves with books and untidy stacks of papers. Books and papers also overflowed the desk and sat in piles on the floor, for Dutch spent most of his time working on genealogy or minutes for various committees.
“That was the most comfortable couch we ever owned, I’ll have you know,” Dutch insisted, waving her toward the sagging cushions. “Would you like some sherry or a Coke?”
Katharine accepted the sherry. Dutch always bought the best. Besides, maybe it would loosen him up so he’d reveal more than he might otherwise.
He brought the drinks in Waterford crystal. “See? I still retain a remnant of culture.” He sat down at the other end of the couch. “What you been up to?” She told him about translating the diary, but didn’t mention Hasty’s contributions.
“I’ve been wondering who wrote it,” she concluded. “It seems to be an Austrian. Do you remember any Austrian woman Carter was involved with while he was over there?”
He pursed his lips and made a soft “pooh, pooh, pooh,” bobbing his head while he thought. “No,” he said finally. “There were a bunch of fellahs who went around together: Carter, Lee and Donk Western, and that Austrian fellah who went to Sewanee—I still can’t remember his name. There were a few girls around, as well, but I can’t think of anybody special. Besides, Carter never paid women much attention. He was always bookish. Lucy used to tease him that if a man could marry a library, he’d be first in line.”
“Well, let me ask you another question. Did you have a nickname back in college?”
“Dutch. Mama called me Lionel, but nobody else did after first grade. My teacher read out my name as ‘Lionel’ and the kid behind me started whispering ‘Choo-choo, choo-choo, choo-choo.’ That made me so mad, I told her I was called by my second name. She pronounced it Dutch instead of Deutsch, and I’ve been Dutch ever since.” He chuckled. “I bloodied the nose of that other kid at recess, too.”
“Were you never called ‘L-squared,’ for L. L.?”
“Not to my face. Why?”
“Because somebody in the diary was, and I thought it might be you.” She didn’t add how relieved she was that he wasn’t the one who had arranged a seduction.
“I can’t recall anybody called L-squared, but it seems like—” He paused. Finally he said with regret in his voice, “Nope. I thought I had an idea, but it took a hike. Happens more and more these days. If you ask me, we’ve got too much to remember.”
It was his favorite complaint, so Katharine sipped her sherry and let him rumble on. Finally he demanded, “What happened to plain ‘off’ and ‘on’ switches? If I was younger, you know what I’d do? I’d start a company making a line of simple products that just do what most people need them to. I don’t need te
n temperatures on my microwave or a television and alarm clock I can program. So long as the microwave heats coffee and makes popcorn, the TV changes channels and has a volume control, and the alarm clock wakes me up, that’s all I need. If I was a little younger—”
“If you were younger, you’d still be running your brokerage firm,” she reminded him. “Why don’t you and some of your poker buddies go ahead and start that company?”
“Don’t be silly. We’ve been put out to pasture.” But his eyes were thoughtful behind his trifocals.
“Tell me about Carter,” she ordered. “This is his picture, right?” She handed him the album.
Dutch fetched a magnifying glass from his desk and peered at the pictures. Then he chuckled. “Yep, that’s him all right. The short girl is Lucy and the one hanging on to him for dear life is Sara Claire.” He scrutinized the pictures again. “Can’t blame her, really. Carter was a handsome devil, wasn’t he? Of course, she switched to that other feller—the Austrian whose name I can’t remember—when Carter wasn’t interested.”
Katharine turned the page to the wedding pictures and put a finger on one face. “Is that you? You weren’t too bad-looking yourself back then.”
His face grew pink with pleasure. “I wasn’t, was I?” He bent to the picture again, and picked out two faces with a gnarled finger. “Your mama and daddy met at that wedding. Did you know that?”
Katharine was startled. “No. I thought they met nearly twenty years later.”
“Nope, they met right there at Sara Claire and Walter’s wedding. He was a classmate of Walter’s from Yale. I wouldn’t have called him a friend, exactly—Walter didn’t make friends, even then, but he knew your daddy as well as anybody, so he invited him down to be a groomsman. That’s where I met him, and we hit it off right away. He liked Atlanta, so he decided to come down and teach at Emory when he finished school. Taught there for years, until he moved down to Miami.”
“But Sara Claire’s wedding was 1939,” she protested. “My folks got married in 1958.”
Death on the Family Tree Page 21
