Death and Honesty

by Cynthia Riggs

  “How do you do?” said Delilah, extending her hand. Jordan apparently didn’t see her hand and Delilah returned it to her lap.

  Victoria rose to her feet. “Jordan, you didn’t … ?”

  Jordan pushed his glasses back on his nose and smoothed his hair into place. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Mrs. Trumbull.”

  Delilah, too, rose to her feet. “How lovely. You two know each other.” She eyed the burlap bag. “Is that my rooster?”

  “Who’s this guy?” demanded Henry.

  “Jordan Rivers,” said Victoria.

  “Would you care to stay for lunch, Mr. Rivers?” Delilah asked. “We’re having Lee’s special chicken salad. She can set another place.”

  “Thanks, I would,” said Jordan. “Where would you like me to put him?”

  “Take him the hell outta here,” said Henry, waving an arm.

  Jordan looked from Henry to Delilah and back.

  “Give Jordan a drink, darling. He looks as though he needs one.”

  “Just water,” said Jordan.

  Henry smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand, then poured a glass of wine and handed it to Jordan, who set it aside. “Perhaps someone will tell me what’s going on?”

  “Is that Chickee?” asked Victoria.

  “What?” said Henry.

  “Let’s see him,” said Delilah. “Open the bag, right now.”

  “Okay,” said Jordan. He untied the knot that held Chickee captive and stepped back.

  An angry rooster made his way out of the bag, looked around, ruffled his disarranged feathers, scratched himself, lifted his head with its angry red comb, and crowed.

  CHAPTER 24

  Darcy parked Delilah’s red Jeep under Victoria’s maple tree early the next morning and strolled through the bright new grass. Cobwebs, sparkling with last night’s dew, were miniature sheets spread out to dry.

  Victoria greeted him at the kitchen door. “I’ve never seen that car before. Is it new?”

  “I have the use of it while I’m at Delilah’s. I’m flying to Boston today and won’t be back until later this afternoon. I’m on my way to the airport now.”

  “Have you had breakfast? What time is your flight?”

  Darcy grinned. “The flight’s whenever I schedule it. I’m returning the church’s plane. Are you offering me breakfast?”

  “I am. Come in.” Victoria set out bacon and eggs, cereal and milk. “I didn’t know you were a pilot.”

  “Multiple talents,” said Darcy. “I stopped by,” he said, once they were seated, “because the goats arrive today. Delilah would like your company.”

  “When are they due?”

  “Sometime this afternoon.”

  “I’ll talk to Lee while I’m there, find out what I can about her relationship with Henry.”

  “I suggested to Delilah that she show you the new goat pen Lambert Willoughby built. She’s sending Lee to pick you up. You can tell her you’d like to rest in the conservatory for a few minutes because you’re feeling faint or tired …” He stopped when he saw Victoria’s expression. “You can fake it. Lee will want to make sure you’re okay and will probably stay with you. If not, you can ask her to. Something like that.”

  Victoria lifted her crisp bacon and bit the end off. “I suppose I can do that.”

  “It’s important to know what Lee and Henry are up to,” Darcy said. “Also, whatever you can find out about Lee’s background, without being too obvious. Where she’s from, how come she’s working here. Delilah was upset about a call Lee got yesterday. What was that call about?”

  “I wonder if she knew Tillie?”

  Darcy looked up from his eggs. “What?”

  “Lee might have known her. Tillie was Lambert Willoughby’s sister.”

  “He’s the guy who built the goat pen.”

  “He works for the town and owns, or owned, the rooster Jordan Rivers kidnapped.”

  Darcy had just forked a mouthful of eggs into his mouth, and burst into laughter, sputtering egg onto the tablecloth. “Sorry,” he said between guffaws.

  Lee picked Victoria up in her own car, the one held together with duct tape, and Victoria sat beside her in the passenger seat.

  “Sorry it’s such a mess,” said Lee, picking up a lone takeout coffee cup.

  Victoria, accustomed to her granddaughter’s car, dismissed the mess. Lee concentrated on her driving and they were at Brandy Brow before Victoria spoke.

  “Quite exciting about the chickens and fainting goats, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you have any animals yourself, Lee?”

  “My mother has a cat, ma’am.”

  “I have a cat named McCavity,” said Victoria. “Have you had other animals at some time?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I had a horse named Marblehead.”

  It was warm in the car, and Victoria unzipped her sweater. “My husband Jonathan was in the cavalry in the world war and had a horse named Hammerhead. I guess his horse and yours shared common traits.”

  Lee warmed slightly. “Stubborn. Like a mule,” and she turned to Victoria and smiled.

  “Did you grow up on the Island?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Right here in West Tisbury.”

  Victoria frowned. “I don’t recall seeing you. What’s your last name?”

  “Miller, ma’am. Lee Kauai Miller.”

  “From Deep Bottom? The horse farm?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My family didn’t mix much. My mother came from off Island. Hawaii. And I went to school off Island.”

  “Deep Bottom is so far from town, it must have been difficult to make friends.”

  “Not really, ma’am. Kids used to come to our place all the time to ride. I had lots of friends.”

  “Do you still see them?”

  “Not much anymore.” Lee looked away. “My best friend was Tillie Willoughby. But we all thought she ran off with that man from Edgartown. Then it turned out …” she stopped.

  “I can imagine how terrible you must feel. How did you end up working for Miss Sampson?”

  “When Tillie disappeared, I was disgusted with her. Now I feel so guilty. At the time, I thought she’d run off with this married man who was about twenty years older. His kids are older than me.” Lee shivered. “I figured he was her ticket to get off the Island.”

  “We Islanders need to see the rest of the world before we settle down,” Victoria said, sympathetically.

  Lee nodded. “But when I leave, Mrs. Trumbull, I intend to pay my own way. The employment agency sent me to Miss Sampson’s on a trial basis and after a couple of weeks, she asked me to stay full-time.”

  “That’s quite a compliment to you. I can imagine that she might be difficult to work for.”

  Lee shrugged. “She has good days and bad. Mostly she’s okay.”

  They turned into the road that led to Delilah’s, and Lee was quiet until they pulled up in front of the house.

  “Miss Sampson told me to take the limousine to fetch you, but I’d be scared to scratch it or something. Darcy treats it like a baby.”

  “Your car is just fine.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Trumbull, it’s Tillie’s car. I always feel a little funny driving it, you know? Her brother lets me use it because we were friends.” Lee helped Victoria out and went up the stairs with her.

  Delilah met her at the front door. “I’m so happy you’re here, Mrs. Trumbull. The goats should arrive any time now.”

  “Would you mind if I rested a bit first, Delilah? May I sit in the conservatory?”

  Delilah looked concerned. “Certainly, Mrs. Trumbull. I’ll take you there, then when Lee reparks her car, she can stay with you.”

  Victoria settled herself on the soft couch and waited. She felt much too warm and she felt left out of the action involving the arrival of the goats. She wore her usual gray corduroy trousers and the heavy wool sweater Fiona’s parents had given her. In a short time, she heard Lee’s quick footsteps and
assumed a weary attitude.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Trumbull? Can I help you in any way?”

  “I’m fine,” said Victoria. “I’d just like someone to sit with me for a few minutes, that’s all.”

  “Certainly, ma’am. Shall I get you a glass of water?”

  Victoria was about to say yes, when she thought about the limited time she had to quiz Lee. “I’d rather not have you leave.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When I was here yesterday,” Victoria began, “Miss Sampson seemed upset about your taking a half day off.”

  “She’s mostly pretty fair, but she doesn’t like the staff getting personal calls on her phone. I never give anyone her number, but someone called me on her phone and she went into orbit.”

  “One call doesn’t seem unreasonable.”

  Lee smiled. “I had the most amazing experience.”

  “Oh?”

  “Reverend True asked me to audition for a part on one of his television shows. My mom watches Miss Sampson’s show all the time. He asked me not to say anything about it to his wife.”

  “Why not?”

  “I guess he thought she’d be jealous.”

  “Go on.”

  “The call I got was from a man from the TV station. That was the call that got Miss Sampson all bent out of shape.”

  “Did she know who was calling and what he was calling about?”

  Lee shook her head. “No way. I called him back on my cell phone, and after I got off work, they did a test film of me.”

  “Here on the Island?”

  “In the lobby of the Harbor Motel. People came in and out and stared at me like I was a celebrity. It was fun, actually. I wasn’t nervous at all.”

  “How exciting. Was it an interview?”

  “Sort of. It was really exciting when they asked me to come back yesterday morning for a further audition. That’s why I wanted the morning off, and I didn’t want to tell Miss Sampson why. They said I was a natural. That the camera liked me.”

  “What sort of show might you be in?”

  “Reverend True has several shows besides the one Miss Sampson stars in. Hers is an inspirational, religious show, and I told him that wasn’t my thing.”

  “Your mother must be pleased.”

  “He asked me not to tell her, didn’t want to get her hopes up, I guess. She’s pretty protective of me.”

  Victoria eased herself out of the sofa, and immediately Lee got up to help.

  “Thank you, Lee. I’m rested. Do you suppose the goats have arrived yet?”

  Lee walked beside her for a few steps. “I enjoyed talking to you, ma’am.”

  “Perhaps I’ll get to see you on film.”

  Lee blushed. “You’re sure you’re okay now, Mrs. Trumbull?” She hurried ahead of Victoria, looking back occasionally, down the long hallway past the portraits and doors that led to rooms on either side. She opened the great front door and Victoria marched briskly out onto the high wraparound porch. From there, she had a panoramic view of the long driveway and Vineyard Sound to her left.

  “Can you see the goat van?” asked Lee.

  Victoria shaded her eyes. “Not yet.”

  CHAPTER 25

  “Isn’t this exciting, Mrs. Trumbull?” Delilah joined Victoria at the top of the steps. She was wearing a bluish green down jacket that matched her eyes. “The driver of the van called from Vineyard Haven to get directions. I’ll have the first fainting goats on Martha’s Vineyard!”

  “I look forward to meeting them,” said Victoria. “How many will you have?”

  “Six. A buck and five nannies. Would you like to see my goat yard?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Victoria zipped up her sweater against the cool air and Delilah led the way down the marble stairs with the ornate pineapple balusters. At the foot of the steps they turned right past the guesthouse and the garage, to a large grassy area enclosed with a green chain-link fence and shaded by still bare oak trees. Delilah opened a gate, and they went through into the fenced-in area. There was a small barn off to one side.

  Delilah swept her arms in an arc that took in the barn and the enclosure. “Lambert Willoughby built all this. Shall we go into the barn?” She added in a whisper, “Henry has no idea this is the start of my farm. I told him the chickens and goats are my pets.”

  Victoria followed her up a ramp that led into the light airy building. She stopped to breathe in the scent of new wood and hay before looking around. Inside were six stalls, each with a chest-high door and a shiny brass nameplate.

  “Do you like it?” asked Delilah.

  “Wonderful,” Victoria said. “I gather you haven’t named the goats yet.”

  “Not yet. I want to get to know them first.” She stopped with a squeal of delight. “Here he is now. You know Lambert, of course?”

  “Not well,” said Victoria.

  A huge man came out of one of the stalls, shoving a pencil behind one ear and holding a clipboard in his free hand. He was taller than Victoria, and not fat, exactly, but what she’d call hefty.

  “Do you know Mrs. Trumbull, Lambert?”

  “Sure. Everyone does. How you doing?” He offered a meaty hand and Victoria shook it, feeling fragile, although his handshake was gentle.

  The front of his cutoff T-shirt depicted an eagle that seemed incongruously to be wearing a helmet. The bird held a pistol in one upraised talon. The other talon stood on what looked like a machine gun. An American flag waved in the background.

  “You’ve built a lovely barn,” Victoria said.

  “Thanks. You seen the stalls?”

  “I showed them to Mrs. Trumbull,” said Delilah.

  “They seem comfortable,” said Victoria.

  “Goats are sociable. The chickens pretty much wander around. I’ll show you where they’ll stay when they’re laying. ‘Course, that’s not for a while.”

  Victoria and Delilah followed him to the corner of the barn where a dozen boxes were stacked. Each was about twice the size of a shoe box and was filled with sweet-smelling hay. A burlap curtain was pulled to one side.

  “How cozy,” said Victoria.

  “Chickens like to be warm.” Willoughby lowered the curtain.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll watch for the goat van,” said Delilah, and tripped over to the barn door, leaving Victoria and Willoughby to tour the rest of the goats’ accommodations.

  “Tillie was your sister, wasn’t she?” said Victoria softly. “I’m so sorry about her death.”

  Willoughby wiped his arm across his mouth. “Five months, and we never knew she was right there all the time.”

  “And what a terrible shock to lose your mother-in-law, too.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “You work in Town Hall, don’t you?”

  “Mostly out on the road, but, yeah. Have an office right below where …” He paused. “When I get my hands on the bastard who did that to Tillie—excuse me, ma’am …”

  “Understandable,” said Victoria. “Were you close to your sister?”

  “She was a wild one, but yeah. She had a room at our place where she stayed at.”

  “Have the police talked to you?”

  He lifted his T-shirt absently and scratched his belly. The muscles in his upper arms writhed and Victoria became aware of the faded tattoos of boa constrictors that covered his arms from shoulder to elbow. “Yeah. Sergeant Smalley was at my place.” He looked down at his feet and kicked at a wisp of hay “What can he do? It’s been five months, for God’s sake. Thought she’d run off with that guy, and all the time …”

  “We’ll find whoever killed her,” Victoria said with assurance.

  Willoughby looked up from his dusty boots and actually smiled. “Understand you’re a cop yourself.”

  “A police deputy,” said Victoria, smoothing her hair.

  “I’ll show you where the baby chicks are now,” Willoughby said, changing the subject. “She,” he jerked his head at Delila
h, who stood at the barn door, a hand shading her forehead, “she got these poor little chicks, day-old chicks. They was dyed Easter-egg colors. Illegal. Like it should be.”

  “The color will grow out, won’t it?”

  “When they get their feathers. I don’t know what goes on in her mind. ‘Cute.’ ‘Darling.’ The poor goddamned animals don’t want to be cute. I put them in here.” He showed Victoria a large pen lined with hay with a heat lamp suspended at a safe height over it. The two dozen colorful chickens, looking much like Easter eggs, huddled under the lamp.

  Lambert shook his head. “How would you like to be a day-old chick doused in a vat of dye? A wonder any of ’em survive.”

  “Do you raise chickens?”

  “Did. But it’s work. She,” another jerk of his head, “doesn’t know what work is.” He sighed. “Not my place to tell her. Up until yesterday my kids had a pet rooster. The neighbor’s Jack Russell got into the pen and tore him up.”

  “Who’s your neighbor?” asked Victoria, afraid he meant Jordan.

  “That slick weasel Oliver Ashpine.”

  Victoria nodded agreement. “I’ve had some dealings with Mr. Ashpine. A difficult man.” She thought about the rooster Jordan Rivers had delivered to Delilah yesterday. Clearly, he had kidnapped the Willoughbys’ rooster.

  “Did you see the dog?” she asked.

  “The dog had bust the pen open and was lying there, chewing on a gizzard.”

  “Really?” asked Victoria, appalled. “Feathers?”

  He shrugged. “Everywhere.”

  Delilah called out from the barn door, “Here they come now!”

  A horse carrier pulled in through the enclosure’s open gate and stopped next to the barn. A boy, who must have been about ten, slid out of the passenger side, ran to the gate, and started to shut it, but at that moment, a full-grown rooster strutted in through the gate, pecking at some morsel that appealed to him. He lifted his magnificent head and crowed.

  Willoughby started. “Goddamn!” He left the baby chicks’ pen and strode past Delilah, who was watching the driver of the horse carrier, a brawny man with auburn hair and a huge auburn mustache. He was in the driver’s seat, filling out paperwork.

  Victoria looked around for a place to sit, and found an overturned galvanized bucket. She eased herself onto it.