The Cradle Robber

by E. Joan Sims

“That’s getting pretty old, Mom. Crying wolf is…”

  “I should have parked down by the raspberry patch,” I moaned. “Anyone who comes up the drive and goes around the circle will see us! How stupid can I get?”

  “False alarm,” laughed Cassie. “Whoever it was just backed out and turned around.”

  “Did you see the car?”

  “Nope, only the lights.”

  Cassie stood and stretched.

  “Can we go in now? You’re too tired to be any fun, and I’m ready for a warm shower and my pajamas. And,” she threatened, “if you don’t do something about your legs, I’ll phone Winston Wallace, M.D., and ask him to make a house call.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” I sighed. “If that was Fatty at the Pelican he would have been here waiting for us when we got home. We probably should have gone to the police station and had one of Andy’s men accompany us.”

  “Oh, sure,” scoffed my loving daughter, “and tell him we just trespassed on private property, committed B&E, and made off with over a thousand dollars. By the way, Mom, what are we going to do with our ill-gotten gains?”

  “I forgot about the money. Thanks for reminding me. I would have washed it down the drain with my bath. Do you still have all of yours?”

  “Yeah,” she answered.

  She stuck her hand down the front of her swimsuit and wiggled around for a moment.

  “Uff! Here it is,” she said as she handed me the tight little curls of money. “I think that’s all.”

  I held the money in one hand and fished around in my jeans pocket for my house key with the other.

  “I hate to ask you, Cassie, but do you mind…”

  “Putting Watson away? Of course not, Mom, just leave me some hot water. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  My legs were sore and stiff, yet wobbly at the same time. I trudged up the walk with the gait of a hundred year-old woman. I turned the light on in the kitchen and made my way painfully through the house.

  When I opened the bedroom door, my wonderful bed loaded with down pillows and soft satiny pink sheets beckoned with a siren’s call. I replaced the pillows Cassie had used to fake my sleeping body and straightened the covers. Then somehow I found the will to force myself to turn away and enter the bathroom.

  When I tried to undress, I discovered that the fabric of my jeans had stuck to the raw abrasions on my legs. The only way I could think of to free myself without causing more damage was a good soak.

  I filled the tub and slipped cautiously down into the warm water. I bit my lip against the stinging pain, then gradually sat back and relaxed as it eased. I positioned a towel underneath my neck and settled even deeper into the warm water. It felt heavenly. My eyelids drooped and I let myself doze as I enjoyed the bliss of the moment.

  I woke up when the water got cold and the wet jeans clutched my thighs in a clammy embrace. I sat up quickly and grimaced as pain shot through the muscles in my stiff neck and shoulders.

  “Damn! I bet Cassie has used the rest of the hot water by now.”

  I turned on the faucet and grinned with relief as the unexpected warmth flowed over my fingers. I let the cold water out and shucked off my jeans and swimsuit while the tub refilled.

  The sight of my injured legs filled me with dismay, but I knew from experience they probably looked worse than they really were. I had been sidewalk rollerskating champion of my neighborhood when I was ten. I spent most of that year with concrete burns that were far worse than this.

  I washed every raw spot carefully with antibacterial soap and rinsed off with clean hot water. There was still plenty left after Cassie’s shower, and I decided I had been asleep longer than I realized. It took Mother’s enormous hot water heater at least forty minutes to refill and heat up.

  I patted myself down with a soft towel and applied first aid cream liberally to each leg. A pair of old flannel pajamas from the bottom drawer of my chest felt wonderful against my sensitive skin and would protect my sheets. Having incurred the wrath of Fatty was one thing, making my mother angry by ruining her precious bed linens was something entirely different.

  I sat down at my dresser and was attempting to comb the frizzes out of my hair when someone knocked.

  “Come on in, Cassie.”

  “It’s me,” said Mother, as she opened the door. “May I come in anyway?”

  “Of course,” I answered looking around nervously. My jeans were still in the bathroom along with my swimsuit and soggy tennis shoes, but I had dumped the money in a careless little pile on my bed.

  “Here, Mother,” I offered as I stood up hastily. “Sit here so you won’t muss that lovely dress.”

  As I plopped down on my bed, I reached behind my back to push the bills under a pillow. I hoped that Cassie had taken the time to tuck her dirty clothes out of the way. Mother was a better detective than Leonard would ever be, and I wasn’t ready for her to find out where we had been tonight, not yet anyway. I needed a good night’s sleep before I tackled that little confession.

  “You and Horatio have a good time hobbing and knobbing with the hoi polloi?”

  “Naturally,” she smiled. “And we won the grand prize, thanks to Horatio’s fearless bidding in the last round.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Two tickets to the Mid-Summer Night’s Ball at the country club. Horatio had already bought ours. You wouldn’t have a use for them, would you?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

  I leaned back against the pillows and sighed theatrically. “Give it a rest, Mother. You cannot make me over in your image, not now, not ever. Think of it as a sow’s ear, silk purse kind of thing.”

  “Nonsense, my dear. All you need is the right incentive. Someday a Prince Charming…”

  “Let’s not go there, if you don’t mind. It’s late and I don’t want to go to bed angry.”

  “Very well,” she sighed. “Anyway, I was planning all along to give them to Cassandra. Perhaps she knows someone she would like to go with. It will make a nice little reintroduction to the social life of Rowan Springs.”

  “Give me a break!”

  Mother ignored me and brushed away a nonexistent wrinkle in her skirt.

  “Where is Cassie?” she asked.

  “She said she was going to take a shower, then go straight to bed. She has to finish packing tomorrow morning. I promised to help her move early in the afternoon.”

  “Oh, my, I am going to miss her. And it won’t seem the same without dear little Aggie, either.”

  “Yeah,” I grinned. “Ain’t it a pity?”

  Mother stood and backed up to the bed so I could unzip her dress.

  “I’m off to sleep, dear. I’ll check on Cassie and see if she’s still awake. I can’t wait to tell her of our good fortune. I know she’ll love going to the ball.”

  She stood in the doorway, smiling. “Maybe we can take a trip to Wieuca City to shop for her party dress. Won’t that be fun?”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “Sarcasm is so unbecoming, Paisley. And by the way, you could use some sprucing up, too, my dear. One simply cannot go through life wearing blue jeans.”

  “One can give it one’s best shot, though, Mother. If one simply hangs tough. Sleep tight.”

  When I heard the distant sound of her bedroom door closing, I got up and rescued the money from under my pillow. I looked around for a quick and convenient place to hide it for the night. Tomorrow I would go to the bank and stick it in the lockbox. It was, after all, not mine to keep. I was sure that Rudolfo or one of the men who shared his digs would be coming back for it. I finally settled on my jewelry box for lack of a better hiding place. It was way too obvious, but it was only for tonight. I counted the little rolls as I tucked them under my pearls. Rudolfo had amassed a small fortune. There were twenty-seven fresh new one hundred dollar bills in the bunch.

  I yawned deeply and stretched some of the kinks out of my stiff muscles. The warm bath had done wonders for my body and my psyche. I fe
lt almost human again. I crossed over to close the bedroom door and was surprised to see Aggie waiting timidly on the threshold.

  “Wow, you have had a change of personality. What’s the matter, beast, amnesia, or schizophrenia?”

  She cocked her skinny little head and uttered the tiniest of sounds. It was a cross between a sad little cry and pitiful whine. Her big brown eyes held a world of “please” in them.

  “All right,” I relented. “Come on.” I ushered her inside and closed the door. “After all, this is your last night on the farm.”

  I helped her up on the bed and looked her sternly in the eye. “That’s the only reason I’m giving in, you understand. This doesn’t change a thing in our relationship. You’re the dog and I’m the person. You sleep at the foot of the bed and I get the down pillow.”

  I brushed my teeth and hung my wet jeans over a towel rack where I hoped they would dry overnight. When I got back to my bed, Aggie was comfortably ensconced in the middle of my favorite pillow. Her soft little doggie snores left me no alternative. She was skinny and tired, but her bite was still worse than her bark. I pulled the covers down on the other side of the bed and climbed in carefully so I wouldn’t disturb her sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When I awoke the next morning, Aggie’s warm little butt was wedged comfortably under my left armpit. She was still snoring, and I had to use the bathroom. I lay there for a few minutes trying to decide if I could move quickly enough to avoid disturbing her and thereby keep from getting bitten. Finally, nature forced the issue and I made a move to jump out of bed. Unfortunately, I forgot to figure into the equation the abuse I had imposed upon my forty-three year old muscles the night before. My agile mind hopped up, but my abused body dragged behind. Aggie woke up with a vicious growl and took a quick nip out of my lagging derriere.

  “Damn! Damn and damn! You little piece of crap dog! As soon as I pee, I’m taking you to Cassie’s room and placing you in her custody until the move. And good riddance!”

  My legs looked much better. I slathered on some more first aid cream and slipped into a house robe.

  Aggie didn’t have to be invited out of my room for the second time. That surprised me a little, but I supposed it was the mention of her beloved mistress’s name that propelled her down the hall and across the house to the other wing.

  Cassie’s door was still closed and there was no answer when I knocked.

  “You’re going in anyway, dog. You’ve lost your right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

  I opened the door and gingerly pushed Aggie inside with my foot. She ran around me and darted back out again. I turned to follow and caught sight of Cassie’s bed. The rounded hump of pillows under the cover might have fooled some, but I could never have mistaken the lumpy outline for my daughter’s slender figure.

  “Cassie?” I called as I stepped into the room and crossed over to her bed. I pulled back the bedspread and saw two pillows placed end to end. They sat on top of a summer blanket and smooth sheets tucked snugly under the sides of the mattress. The bed had not been slept in.

  “What the hell did you do, Cassie? Stay up all night on watch?”

  I put the pillows back in their normal position at the top of the bed and rearranged the covers. Still unconcerned, I busied about filling one of the packing boxes with the books still remaining on her shelf.

  In a few minutes Aggie came back to the door and barked. The sound surprised me so much I dropped Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, ripping the paper jacket.

  “Fine time you picked to come out of your funk, dog.”

  I sighed and gave up on the books. Aggie obviously would keep on making a nuisance of herself if I didn’t let her out and feed her. Cassie was a big girl now. If she stayed up all night, she would just have to pay the consequences.

  Mother was sitting at the kitchen table buttering a flaky homemade croissant. The kitchen was fragrant with the scent of bread baking in the oven and freshly ground coffee beans.

  “Umm, I’m starving!”

  “Good morning to you too, Paisley, dear,” chided Mother.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” I grinned. “But I really am starving.”

  “I seriously doubt that, my child. But I am glad to see that little Aggie has her appetite back.”

  “Yeah! She made an hors d’oeuvre of my butt this morning,” I complained. “But you’re right. She does appear to be more like her old self—rotten and stinkin’.”

  I poured some hot water over a tea bag and grabbed two croissants off the platter warming on the stove.

  “Where’s Cassie?” I asked as I sat down. “She have breakfast already?”

  Mother dabbed at a few errant crumbs with a dainty linen napkin and looked at me quizzically. “No. I assumed she was still sleeping. Didn’t you just come from her bedroom?”

  I took the croissant out of my mouth and put it slowly down on my plate. My heart skipped a beat as her words etched themselves on my brain. I turned and faced her squarely.

  “She wasn’t there. Her bed hasn’t been slept in.”

  “Nonsense, dear,” answered Mother with a reassuring smile. “I saw her in bed myself when I peeked in her room last night. She must have…”

  “No! That wasn’t her,” I cried. “Those were pillows she piled up to look like she was sleeping. She did the same thing to my bed before she climbed out the window.”

  Mother’s face turned pale but her lips tightened in a firm, uncompromising line.

  “I think you need to fill in some blanks, Paisley. And quickly.”

  I jumped up from the table and looked out the kitchen window. Thanks to the storm, I could see all the way to the carriage house, but the garage doors were on the other side. I couldn’t tell if Watson was still there.

  “Come with me. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  We hurried across the gravel drive looking like two awkward storks with our housecoats flapping in the morning breeze.

  I heard the tired beeping of the seatbelt warning before we rounded the corner. Cassie had parked the car and turned off the engine, but she hadn’t had time to close the door.

  “Oh, my God!” breathed Mother. “What happened?”

  “Somebody’s snatched Cassie, that’s what,” I whispered hoarsely.

  The words squeezed painfully through the sudden stricture in my throat. A huge empty pit opened somewhere beneath my diaphragm and my heart fell all the way to the darkness at the bottom.

  When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Doctor Winston Wallace.

  “Um, wha…what the hell are you doing here?” I mumbled angrily as I pushed myself up in bed. “And what am I doing in bed? What’s going on?”

  “Relax, dear lady,” said Wallace, pulling his chair closer. “Your Mother called me. You lost consciousness about thirty minutes ago.”

  “A half hour! And just how long have you been here alone in my bedroom staring at me?”

  Wallace turned a bright shade of crimson and officiously straightened the lapels on his starched white clinic jacket. He face was thinner than I remembered and so was his hair. But he sported the same artificially acquired tan, and the big gold Rolex still circled one bony wrist.

  “I assure you, dear lady, I have not been alone with you until a few moments ago. Your mother received a phone call and excused herself just before you opened your eyes.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I offered as a grudging apology. “So what’s wrong with me?”

  When the words left my mouth, the memory of Cassie’s disappearance came flooding back. I groaned and clutched my chest to still the sudden rapid beat of my heart.

  Alarmed, Wallace jumped up and grabbed my wrist in an attempt to take my pulse. I jerked away from him and tried to get out of bed.

  “Paisley,” said Mother sharply as she entered the room. “Stop behaving like a child and let Dr. Wallace examine you. Cassie and I have been quite worried.”

  Startled by the mention of Cassie’s name
I flopped back against the pillows.

  “Cassie? She’s…?”

  “She’s quite concerned about you. She just called to say she’ll be home as soon as she can. She has some business of her own to take care of—something you can’t help her with. She said not to worry.”

  Mother’s face was a study in marble. I could tell nothing from her expression, but she gave the slightest nod and she darted her eyes in Wallace’s direction.

  “By the way, she also said to remind you to be sure and let her Aunt Amelia have her new address.”

  A warm slow wave of relief flooded through my body as I realized that Cassie was all right. I still didn’t know what had happened to her, but she had sent me a message of reassurance, and that was good enough for me. I even managed to give Wallace a shaky little smile.

  “Okay, Doc,” I said as I stuck out my arm, “take as much pulse as you need.”

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” said Mother, “if that’s all right with you, dear. I would like to get dressed before the clock strikes noon.”

  Winston Wallace opened his leather bag of goodies and took out his little doctor toys. He took my blood pressure, listened to my heart, looked down my throat, up my nose, and in my ears.

  “So what’s the deal, Doc?”

  “Have you been having any unusual symptoms lately?” he asked in a stern clinical voice—one that immediately brought back the cold fear of my concern. I quietly told him about the episodes of breathlessness and the palpations.

  “I meant to see a doctor, but there just never seemed to be time. What’s wrong with me?”

  He sat back in the chair and peered over tented fingers. The pose seemed choreographed, as if he had practiced for hours in front of a mirror.

  “Have you ever had an EKG?” he asked.

  “No. I don’t think so, anyway. The last complete exam I had was in New York about two years ago and everything was hunky dory. I should have had one last year, but Dr. Baxter died, and you…”

  “Yes, I know,” he smiled crookedly. “We’ve had our little contretemps. There is another physician in Rowan Springs now—foreigner, an Indian doctor named Dhanvantari, if you’d care to see him.”