Pushing Up Bluebonnets yrm-5

by Leann Sweeney

  "You believe Mr. Richter made sure she stayed away from the others? That he did this intentionally?" I said.

  Ian cocked his head. "Ah, you're quite brilliant, aren't you, Abby? Yes. Good summary, my dear."

  I ignored the smiling sarcasm, the attentive expression and the body language that indicated he'd like to talk more about me and less about JoLynn. "You're saying you were never alone with her? Never got to ask her about her past?"

  Ian threw back the last of his brandy or whatever had been in his glass. "Not on your life. She was treated like a precious gem Elliott needed to keep in a glassed-in case. Though he never gave warning, one knew better than to get too close."

  "You're very insightful, Mr. McFarland," Kate said.

  "Please call me Ian." The charming blues focused on Kate now.

  "Simone is your daughter with Adele, correct?" she went on.

  "We're back to my daughter, are we? I suppose she's raised suspicion, perhaps due to the surliness I'm sure you were forced to endure. Let me be clear that Simone, though prone to fits of temper, would never harm anyone. Adele, however, is quite another story. You might want to focus your efforts there."

  "You mentioned Katarina earlier. How well did you know her?" I asked.

  "Quite a shining light in the world, Katarina was. A tragedy she had to wither away like that. They've made great progress with cancer in the twenty or so years since she's been gone. Though I was never privy to what kind of cancer she had, she surely would have lived longer had she been born years later."

  Kate said, "Do you know why Katarina ran off for those two years?"

  He laughed, an open-mouthed loud laugh, at that. Too much wine, maybe?

  "You've got to be kidding," he said. "You've met Elliott. Katarina was being smothered, of course. We all knew she had to do something. Her running away came as no surprise to Adele or me—one of the few things we ever agreed upon when we were married, by the way."

  "How did you know she was being smothered?" Kate placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist.

  "Elliott, as I said earlier, acted with Katarina rather like he's been behaving with JoLynn. Possessive. Adoring. And toward the end, after Katarina returned from God knows where, he kept the details very hush-hush— that is, if he knew any details. Like where she'd been. The cancer. I mean, we were all shocked when we learned she was dying."

  I recalled the words on Katarina's tombstone. Taken from the secretive world, taken from the pain of life. That memorial to Richter's daughter certainly jibed with what Ian was saying and made me believe that Richter might not have known where his daughter had run off to.

  "Is there anything else I can offer?" Ian asked, glancing at his watch.

  I wondered if his time matched the ticking clock on the fireplace mantel that had begun to distract and annoy me. Hard to believe it was already past nine p.m. "Not now," I said, trying to assimilate everything I'd heard so far. Which was more accurate? JoLynn the sneak or JoLynn the gem under glass? Maybe both, I thought.

  He stood, bowed at the waist and in a mocking tone said, "I am your servant."

  After the door closed, Kate said, "He's not telling all he knows."

  "What makes you say that?" I said.

  "Body language. Eye shifts. All very subtle but still there," she said.

  "Good thing you were paying better attention than I was." I glanced at what looked like an antique mantel clock, resisting the urge to throw my notebook at it. "Is that damn clock bothering you as much as it is me?" I said.

  But before Kate could answer, a knock sounded and Eva stuck her head in the door. Her ridiculous little hat was gone, thank goodness. You cannot take someone seriously when they're wearing a doily on their head.

  She said, "Herr Richter thought you might require a break and some refreshments. Coffee? Tea? A brandy? Water? Whatever you wish."

  "Coffee for me." I looked at Kate.

  "If you have green tea, that would be wonderful," she said.

  Eva nodded and closed the door.

  While Kate left to find a powder room, I stood and stretched, then walked around, glancing at the books, resisting the urge to tamper with the clock. It had one of those pendulums that matched its loud tick-tick-tick and was probably wound with a key at the back. Worth plenty, I'd bet. I then focused on the books and noted Richter had a variety of titles, everything from Shakespeare to a collection of first-edition Nero Wolfe mysteries by Stout.

  Since Kate had left the door open, I was startled when Richter spoke. He had stepped into the room without a sound.

  "This is JoLynn's favorite room," he said. "She would sit in the window seat and read for hours. She told me she never finished high school and yet I caught her reading Chaucer one day and Poe another time. A very bright girl, but perhaps I told you that before."

  "No, you didn't," I said. "I think you've been too worried about whether she'll pull through to offer me much information. How was she this morning?"

  "Peaceful. As if she wasn't in as much pain as she has been in the last few days. They'll gradually bring her out of the coma soon, I'm told."

  I smiled. "That's good news."

  "Yes. I'm optimistic." He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a photograph. "You wanted a picture of JoLynn, but this is the best I can do."

  I took it from him and found her immediately. She and her grandfather were the only ones smiling. "She's . . . beautiful." I continued to stare at her face and felt anger building in my gut. The person in that hospital bed hardly looked like this person. Who could have done this to her?

  Just then, Estelle arrived with a tray of cups and steaming pots. Richter stepped aside and said he would give us ten minutes until he sent in Adele. He left the room with a nod and an almost pleasant smile.

  Estelle said, "Anything else?"

  How could we need anything more? There was not only a pot of coffee for me and Kate's green tea but biscotti, cookies and a bowl of Andes chocolate mints.

  "This is beautiful, Estelle. Do you eat all this wonderful food, too? Because I might just have to get a job here if that's the case."

  "I don't think you want a job here." She smiled and then was gone.

  She's probably right, I thought. Bet she sees the worst

  of everyone. I poured coffee and was dropping a mint into my cup just as Kate came back.

  "What's that?" she asked.

  As if she didn't know. "My own special energy drink."

  She raised an eyebrow but made no comment as she poured from the small teapot. Her tea smelled wonderful—a touch of citrus, maybe?

  I slid the photo over to her. "Check out JoLynn."

  Kate's eyes widened and I heard her intake of breath. "My God, she looks so different than . . . what we saw. Really lovely."

  I held up a biscotto for Kate. "How's about we leave that photo right on the table?"

  She refused the biscotto—her loss, since they tasted homemade. She sipped her tea and sat deep in thought while I ate two of those crispy critters, along with three cookies. Then I added another mint to my second cup of coffee.

  Adele arrived minutes later, and with her came a blast of cold air. "Pardon my saying so, but this is probably the most ridiculous thing my brother has ever subjected us to. And who chose what order we'd be interrogated?" She'd seated herself in front of us. She wore a blue silk blouse with see-through cap sleeves and tiny pleats from collar to hem, this with a black crepe skirt.

  But her shoes were what had caught my eye earlier. The same bright blue as her blouse. I'd never bought shoes that cost hundreds of dollars just to match a blouse. But Aunt Caroline had. Maybe there was a nice person under the facade Adele presented just as with my aunt.

  Kate was saying that Adele's brother, Elliott, decided who would be interviewed in what order.

  "I assumed as much," Adele said. "Get on with this so Leopold and I can leave. We'd like to be home before ten." She then caught a glimpse of the photo on the desk and qu
ickly looked away.

  "What can you tell us about JoLynn? Did she share anything about her past with you?" I said.

  "She never told me anything, but I can tell you where she came from. Some trailer park or other low-rent housing. Her clothes had to be from the sale pile at Wal Mart. Cheap earrings, Payless shoes and makeup from CVS pharmacy. And she continued to wear those atrocious outfits. Dollar flip-flops by the pool. Blue jean short shorts when we barbecued. Did she think she came here to audition for Li'l Abner?"

  "You're very observant," Kate said with more warmth and sincerity than I could have mustered.

  Adele actually smiled, the first one I'd seen her allow since we arrived. "You can tell a considerable amount about a person from how they present themselves. And she presented herself as white trash."

  "Could you tell anything from her accent? Her grammar? We'd like to figure out where she lived before arriving here," Kate said.

  Thank God my sister was taking over. That damn clock coupled with a woman who made Aunt Caroline seem downright charming was about to drive me insane.

  "Hmmm," Adele said. "She was Texan, I believe. Plenty of y'alls in her vocabulary. I must admit she seemed almost intelligent, however."

  Finally something positive, I thought. "How did you know?" I asked.

  "Books. She knew about books. Young people rarely read literary anything, but when Elliott gathered us all for my birthday, JoLynn and Simone discussed Edith Wharton over dinner, if you can imagine that. Simone has had the best possible education, but this girl? I was surprised, to say the least. But other than that, JoLynn seemed like, well, the word hick comes to mind."

  Adele knew more about JoLynn than I'd thought she would. I said, "Did she ever seem nervous or concerned for her safety?"

  "No," she said curtly. "She was being protected by my brother. That's what this is all about, you know. He failed her. He failed and he can't stand to fail. About time he had a lesson in fallibility."

  "You're pleased JoLynn was injured?" I blurted. I blamed the blurting on the clock. Even if I could shut the thing off, I'd probably still hear it. Hell, I might not even get any sleep tonight because it would still be ticking away in my brain.

  Adele squared her shoulders, color rising up her throat. "If you tell my brother that's what you've discerned from this stupid little interview, I promise you, you'll regret it. I have nothing more to say."

  And she didn't, because she got up and left.

  "Like mother, like daughter," I said after she was gone.

  "Abby, you could have kept that last observation about JoLynn to yourself. I'm guessing Adele knows more than all the others we've talked to put together."

  "I screwed up and I'm sorry. But that clock is making me slap-assed crazy."

  "You mean the one on the mantel? Or the big grandfather clock by the door?" Kate said.

  I stood and walked over to the fireplace, pointing at my enemy. "This thing. Can't you hear it?"

  "No. You have superpowers now?" Kate said with a laugh.

  Enough was enough. I gently moved the clock to get at the controls in the back, fearing I might break something. But I shouldn't have worried. It was plenty sturdy. A small lever turned the whole thing off. There. Noise gone. But when I went to slide the clock back into place, a folded piece of paper that had been taped to the bottom dislodged.

  13

  I turned to Kate and held up the folded paper. "Funny place to save something," I said.

  Kate offered her disapproving-mother stare. "Maybe the clock was unstable and what you've removed was making it work correctly."

  "There is nothing correct about that clock and the damn thing's lucky I didn't bring in the Lady Smith and put it out of its misery." I started to unfold the paper because I could tell there was printing on it, but someone knocked on the door, so I stuck it in my pocket. After I called, "Come on in," Leopold Hunt entered the room.

  "Thanks for waiting around so long," I told him as I sat back down.

  "No problem." Hunt sat opposite us. "Elliott's pretty upset about this whole thing with JoLynn. I'll do anything I can to help."

  Hunt reminded me of our computer company's CEO. He was trim, had expertly dyed hair with just enough gray to look distinguished and wore a striped silk tie now loosened. His suit jacket had been left behind somewhere.

  "What's your opinion of JoLynn?" I asked.

  That seemed to throw the guy off, which was what I'd hoped. "Opinion? You think I had an opinion, Miss Rose?"

  "It's Abby. Your observations? Is that a better question?"

  "Well, let me think how best to describe her. Pretty. Intelligent. Cheerful, for the most part. I—I don't know what else to say."

  Kate said, "Cheerful for the most part. Did you see her when she wasn't so happy?"

  "We all have our days. It was nothing really." He laughed nervously.

  "Are you worried about talking to us?" I said. "Because Mr. Richter wants us to find out anything and everything we can to assist the police in investigating this murder attempt."

  With the mention of Richter, he started talking rapidly. "Sh-she was in here, in the library, one day. I came in to grab a book we needed for a business meeting Elliott had arranged here at the house. He sometimes does that. Anyway, she was sitting over there." He pointed at the window seat. "You can't exactly ignore someone when they're crying, so I asked her what was wrong."

  "And her answer?" Kate asked.

  "She said nothing was wrong, she just needed a cry. But she was wedged into the corner. She had a book clutched to her chest and—take this with a grain of salt because I know little if anything about women's emotions—she seemed extremely sad."

  "When was this?" I asked.

  "Maybe two months ago."

  "You have no idea why she was sad?" I said.

  "I couldn't even offer a guess, but she looked so lost . . . like a small, scared child."

  I leaned forward. "You didn't ask her anything else?"

  He squirmed, avoided my stare. "I don't recall. But I offered her my handkerchief and she refused."

  "She give you any explanation?" I said.

  "She asked me not to tell her grandfather. But I never would have done that anyway. Elliott and I have a business relationship and weeping relatives aren't the kind of thing we discuss. It's not like I knew the girl more than to say hello. The whole episode was very awkward— for both of us."

  "Ah, awkward," I said. "Kind of like this little talk right now?"

  "To be honest, yes. I have no idea what you expect from us," he said.

  "You seem like a smart guy," I said. "We want to know what JoLynn shared about her past and who might have wanted to kill her. And since no one has given us any possible suspects, I guess we'll have to continue to concentrate our efforts on all of you." I smiled.

  "That's ridiculous. None of us would have hurt her."

  Kate said, "Who do you include in that us?"

  Hunt seemed relieved to interact with my kinder, gentler sister. "Anyone in the family. Adele and me, for sure. Certainly neither Scott nor Simone. Simone is my stepdaughter and since she didn't show up—"

  "Actually, she did show up," I said.

  "Really? How was she?" he asked.

  I was surprised by his reaction. He seemed genuinely concerned. "Pissed off," I answered.

  The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. Definitely worried, but why? Of course all these people knew things they weren't saying, and Hunt was no different, but he might be a weak link in the chain of the unspoken.

  He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Let me apologize for Simone. She's—anyway, I'm sorry."

  "Don't worry about causing me any discomfort. See, I even had the roof of my mouth tattooed, so I can take whatever she or any one of you wants to dish out," I said.

  Hunt's eyes widened. Guess he believed me about the tattoo.

  "Abby's kidding," Kate said.

  But Hunt didn't seem to hear her. Still dwelling on his
stepdaughter? I wondered.

  "Were there other times you and JoLynn interacted?" Kate asked. "Anything else you noticed about her mood or demeanor?"

  "As I said before, I don't usually pick up on those things."

  "But your stepdaughter is able to get your attention?" she said.

  He hesitated, seemed to be considering how to respond. "Since you've met Simone, you must realize she gets most people's attention. As for JoLynn, she was a pleasant person who could discuss books. World affairs were another story. She didn't have much to add to those conversations. Aside from Elliott, Scott seemed the closest person to JoLynn. Have you talked to him?"

  "We have," I said. "But you know what, Mr. Hunt? I sense you know more about this girl than you're saying."

  His face reddened. "I do not."

  I leaned even closer. "Was there talk in your family about how big her slice of the pie might be now that Elliott Richter has welcomed her into the family?"

  Hunt still wouldn't make eye contact. "This line of questioning . . . is, well—"

  "All I need is a simple yes or no."

  He finally looked at me. "No. We don't discuss money."

  "Ah. So Mr. Richter keeps you guessing about your wife's inheritance," I said. "No wonder you people are all as tense as terriers watching a rat hole. Thanks for your time."

  He stood and nodded, his jaw tight after that remark, one I wished I could take back. Making nice with these folks might be a better approach, but my patience had been used up.

  "Good evening, ladies." Hunt offered a polite smile and left the room.

  Kate said, "Why were you so hard on him?"

  "Because I'm frustrated. Everyone's holding back. Leopold's probably Adele's puppet, but he has a weakness: his stepdaughter."

  "You're right about that. And you can assume anything related to JoLynn, even that crying episode, was duly reported to Adele."