The Cradle Robber

by E. Joan Sims

  “No, Mom, really she’s not. She was just desperate. You might have done the same thing under the circumstances.”

  I gave my daughter a wicked grin. “I must admit that the thought of your Aunt Velvet on ice does sound enticing.”

  “So, now what do we do?” she answered, ignoring my barb.

  “We?”

  “Yes, Mom. We have to help her. She’s all alone in the world, and she hasn’t got a clue as to what to do.”

  “First things first. Where’s Rudofo?”

  “He left after all the hullabaloo in the kitchen. He said he would find a quieter place to hide out. He’ll get back in touch. He promised.”

  “Well, that’s just great! He kidnaps you and then drops you like a hot potato; and now we have to help this silly old bag…”

  “MOM!”

  “Sorry, Cassie, but there’s too many things going on here. And I promised to bring supper for Wanda and…”

  “Wanda?”

  “Long story. Take me to Miss Lolly. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  At first Miss Lolly wouldn’t even look at me, but after ten minutes of cajoling and pleading, Cassie managed to get her to sit down and help us make some decisions. I suggested that we call Bruce Hawkins. He was Mother’s lawyer and I knew we could trust him to help Lolly Parsonss with this mess. But she was from the old school where it was family history that counted. She wanted to call Judge Hershey because her father had helped send him through law school.

  Finally, Cassie convinced her that might cause some kind of conflict of interest down the road, and besides, she argued, “Miss Lolly, you really need your own lawyer.”

  I told her to worry about payment later. Right now she needed an advocate to keep her out of the loony bin.

  Cassie helped her back to her room while I went downstairs to make some phone calls. Bruce answered right away. He listened intently as I gave a cursory explanation of the situation, and promised to come immediately. He also offered to call his aunt. She was a bit younger than the Parsons sisters but had gone to the same finishing school for young ladies. He was sure she would want to help, and would probably even offer to stay with Miss Lolly until things were sorted out. That was the best news I had heard all night because I had things to do and places to go. And I was tired of being called a sassy young whippersnapper by a woman older than my Mother’s antique cherry coffee table.

  My second telephone call was to Horatio. I wanted to warn him that he would have to find a really big coffin, or think of a way to defrost Miss Hannah. There was no answer at the funeral home. I tried calling home in case he and Mother had gone there, but received the same lack of response.

  “Where is everybody?” I wondered crossly.

  I helped Cassie make supper for her old friend, then sat at the kitchen table and waited for Bruce while she took the tray of soup and cheese toast upstairs for Miss Lolly.

  I had never been inside this big old house before, and I longed to explore. Only the good manners that Mother says I’m missing kept me from doing so. I satisfied myself with poking around the museum of domesticity the Parsons sisters called a kitchen. I admired the shiny white tile counter tops and the tiny little hexagon floor tiles—there must have been a million of them. The butler’s pantry was filled with some wonderful old china. There were serving pieces I had never seen before—probably for roast grouse, or goose mousse, or whatever the Parsons family used to eat in their heyday. Conspicuously absent was any sterling silver—no cutlery and no trays or teapots. I imagined they had been sold long ago. I began to feel sorry for the two little old ladies who had lived beyond the years when they had means.

  After a while, I got bored with the kitchen and was about to make good my mother’s poor opinion of me by snooping around the rest of the downstairs when I heard a car pull up in the driveway. Bruce Hawkins was waiting impatiently at the back door by the time I found my way through the darkened house.

  “The ceilings are about fourteen feet high, and most of these old houses don’t have light switches in every room,” Bruce explained as we fumbled our way back to the kitchen in the dark. “I love these old homes. Mona and I tried to buy one in Atherton, but it was tied up in a trust. I suppose this one is, too.”

  “Well, you’ll probably get a chance to find out, if Miss Lolly likes you, that is. She hates me. She’d sooner go to jail than ask for my help.”

  “So who told her I was coming?” he asked.

  “Cassie, my daughter. She’s upstairs with Miss Lolly now. Can you help her out of this mess, Bruce?”

  “She can’t stand the sight of you, but you are so concerned about her welfare that you’re willing to foot all her legal bills. How’s that add up?” He looked at me carefully over his little half glasses as he sat down at the table.

  I had forgotten what a good-looking man Bruce Hawkins was. He’d lost a tad more hair, but his eyes were still a beautiful deep blue and his smile was warm and open. I knew he was as honest and upright as he looked. Miss Lolly could trust him all the way to the bank—if she would give him the chance.

  “I’d hate to see anyone put away in Sunny Acres just because they happen to choose an unusual way of keeping their head above water,” I explained. I failed to add that I felt somewhat guilty because I fully intended to use the imagery of a body in a freezer for Leonard’s next book. And there was also the need to atone for my long ago sins against that fabled feline, Mr. Whiskers.

  “Sunny Acres and not jail? What makes you think that?” asked Bruce.

  “She froze her sister, for Pete’s sake. ”

  “Hummn, I see your point,” he said slowly. “Judge Hershey may decide to hold a sanity hearing. Or he might turn the case over to the County Attorney.”

  “I’m sure he’ll do the right thing. Mother says he’s very fair.”

  “A year ago I would have agreed with her one hundred percent, but just between you and me—and I mean that,” he added sternly, “since he’s hired that shifty-eyed assistant of his, the old man’s let things slide.” Bruce looked me straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t be talking out of school, except it may impact what happens to your friend upstairs.”

  “What assistant?”

  “A fellow named Newton. Came highly recommended from a law firm in California. Has a lot of big city ideas. Every time someone disagrees with him he says they’re ‘archaic and insular.’”

  “Looks like you’ve been called that one too many times,” I laughed.

  He smiled. “I like being archaic and insular if it means living peacefully among friends and neighbors and working things out to suit what’s best for everybody—not just going by the book all the time.” He stretched his long arms above his head and looked around the kitchen. “Where’s the freezer?” he asked. “I have to see this with my own eyes. And let me say right from the start that I’ll forgo any legal fees on this one, Paisley. If you are willing to help Miss Lolly, then so am I.”

  Bruce managed to look fairly nonchalant when he saw Miss Hannah in her frozen bed, but I could tell from the twinkle in his eyes he was dying to run home and relate the story to his wife. He examined the freezer for a few minutes, then got out a yellow legal pad from his briefcase and made a list of things to do.

  I tried to call Horatio again, but there was still no answer at the funeral home. Mother didn’t answer either. Bruce offered to call Andy Joiner and explain everything. He thought he could keep the matter quiet if the powers that be would cooperate. He also had a suggestion.

  “If Miss Lolly agrees to go to a nursing home I think I can persuade Hershey not to hold a sanity hearing. He’ll probably want to appoint someone as her legal guardian. If you don’t want your daughter to do it, I’ll be glad to stand in.”

  “That’s up to Cassie,” I said. “But I can tell you this—Miss Lolly will really hate leaving this old house. She’s never lived anywhere else. It’s going to break her heart.”

  “So
rry, Paisley, but I don’t think she’ll have a choice. If there is a sanity hearing she’ll mostly likely be put away.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “It’s just sad, that’s all.”

  Bruce stood up and stretched again. “Aunt Matilda should be here any minute. She’ll take care of Miss Lolly until we can decide what to do.”

  “Great! I should have been somewhere else two hours ago. Cassie, too. We’re late for dinner. I was supposed to bring the food,” I added ruefully.

  “Before I go upstairs, Paisley, I like to ask you something,” said Bruce as though he weren’t quite sure. “I heard that some of the Mexican laborers came out to your Mother’s place to work and you all kicked them out because they got unruly. Is that true?”

  “Of course, not!” I denied heatedly. “To a man, they were polite and extremely hard working! And we really needed them for a few more days. We were just about to get things back to normal when Andy Joiner served us with an injunction prohibiting them for working on the farm.”

  “Do you remember who signed it?”

  “Sure. It was Hershey, himself.”

  Bruce shook his head slowly. “I’d bet my bottom dollar it wasn’t him. Newton has been pretty free with the old man’s signature stamp.” He looked up from his briefcase and blushed with the next question. “Do…er, women usually come across the border with those guys?”

  I must have looked a little surprised. He hurried to explain.

  “Several Mexican babies have been adopted by parents in western Kentucky. Oddly enough, almost all of the adoptions have been processed through the courthouse here in Rowan Springs. I was just curious as to where the babies are coming from, that’s all. I’ve been told the infants are anywhere from a few days to a few hours old. That seems kind of young to me, especially if the babies are really coming all the way from Mexico.”

  “Well, I don’t know a thing about any women. Cassie might know, though. She talked to the men a lot more than I did. And she, ah…spent some time with their foreman. Ask her when you go upstairs. And send her back down, if you don’t mind. We’ve got to get going.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Cassie refused to leave Miss Lolly’s side until Matilda Hawkins arrived and the two women spent enough time together to get reacquainted. Miss Lolly’s mood lightened somewhat as the tension of keeping her terrible secret faded away, and she even seemed to enjoy the company. She smiled as she waved goodbye to Cassie, though I still didn’t warrant so much as a glance.

  “She’ll forgive you one day, Mom,” Cassie assured me.

  “She should live so long,” I muttered.

  “Don’t be mean,” chided my kindly daughter. “Miss Lolly’s had a hard time.”

  “It’s her own fault,” I protested. “She didn’t have to stay cooped up in that old mausoleum. She could have had a life if she hadn’t been so selfish.”

  Cassie stayed quiet, deep in thought, as we drove back down Main Street toward the funeral home. She didn’t even look up until I remembered something and slammed on the brakes in the middle of Chestnut Street.

  “Damn!”

  “What’s wrong, Mom.”

  “Dinner! I was supposed to go to Cloudt’s and get barbeque.”

  “Well, it’s too late now. It’s almost eight. Cloudt’s will be closed by the time we get there. Why not just pick up some burgers at the Dairy Queen?”

  “Horatio would never eat anything as vulgar as a hamburger.”

  “Horatio loves hamburgers! You’re such a snob, Mom.”

  “Snob? Me a snob? You must be kidding!” I protested vehemently. “Some kind of snob I am—dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and loafers, hah!”

  “Exactly! You proved my point,” she laughed.

  “Oh, yeah! How’s that?”

  “From top to bottom,” Cassie replied, looking me up and down. “Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein, and Cole-Haan.”

  “Hummpf! I wear these clothes because they’re comfortable. And my other moccasins were falling apart. I suspect Mother threw them out. Besides, these were on sale. You know I never buy anything that’s not on sale.”

  “Just get the burgers, Mom. And don’t forget extra ketchup for the fries.”

  When we finally got our order from the Dairy Queen, it was eight-thirty. I consoled myself with the idea that Horatio would probably be grateful for anything by the time we showed up with dinner.

  The funeral home appeared deserted as we drove up. Only the three long black hearses, their hoods shining like beetle carapaces in the moonlight, waited silently in the parking lot. Horatio’s Bentley was conspicuously absent.

  “Looks like nobody’s home,” observed Cassie with a nervous little laugh. “It’s a little spooky.”

  “Nonsense! Bother and nonsense,” I muttered: a mantra against the dark. “Wanda is upstairs for sure because Horatio made her promise not to leave. We just can’t see the parlor light from back here.” I got out and hefted the bag of drinks. “Can you carry the food by yourself, or do we need to make two trips?”

  “I don’t know about you, Mom, but I’m not coming back down here in the dark for anything. I’ll carry it all now, even if I get a hernia.”

  Cassie balanced the two big sacks of food over each slender hip and walked carefully towards the back entrance. I placed both hands underneath the drinks and tried to ignore the icy cold of the sloshing liquids as I braced the paper bag against my chest.

  The situation was ripe for disaster. I could see us dropping greasy food and sticky drinks all over Horatio’s new carpet. Mother would be furious.

  “Maybe we’d better go in thorough the ambulance entrance, Cassie. Horatio has just redecorated. I’d really hate to spill any of this plebeian banquet in the foyer and ruin something.”

  “The ambulance entrance? Isn’t that where the dead bodies go?” she squeaked.

  “There’s probably nobody there tonight,” I assured her.

  “But you said Fatty…”

  “Well, maybe Fatty…”

  “No thanks, Mom,” she insisted firmly. “I’ll be careful.”

  “I’ll have to go in the back way, Cassie. This bag is wet, and it’s starting to leak.”

  “See you upstairs, then,” she said over her shoulder as she hurriedly disappeared—leaving me standing alone in the moonlight.

  The paper bag was not only wet and leaking, it was also beginning to come apart. I would have to leave some of the drinks downstairs and make a second trip. And I had to hurry because the dam was about to break. I fumbled with the handle and pushed the door to the ambulance entrance open with my hip.

  Just as I got inside, the drink cup on the top of the stack lost its little plastic cover. Cassie’s cherry coke and half a cup of crushed ice sloshed out on my tee shirt and down my bra.

  “Drat! Drat, and double drat.”

  The morgue was almost completely dark. The only light in the room came from the parking lot, and after it filtered through the frosted glass in the doors it didn’t illuminate much. I waited for a moment to let my eyes adjust, but the cold drinks against my soaking tee shirt got to be more than I could stand. I did a blind shuffle to the left and then to the right until I stubbed my toe against the leg of a heavy steel table.

  “Ouch!”

  I set down my wet burden on the cold metal surface and rubbed my injured foot against the back of my other leg. I turned around trying to get my bearings, but in the dark it was no use. I had been in this room only once before and I couldn’t remember where the light switches were. It was like being in Miss Lolly’s house all over again.

  I felt along the edge of the table hoping to come to a wall with a door or a light. Instead my groping hand came upon another’s whose fingers were cold and stiff. I screamed and ran blindly forward, bumping into another metal table and knocking an assortment of metal objects clattering and banging to the floor. I switched directions and immediately fell over a metal wastebasket. I was struggling to get my foot out of the basket w
hen the lights came on. I blinked and rubbed my eyes before I saw Cassie at the door gaping at me and the havoc I had caused.

  “For goodness sake, Mom. What’s going on?”

  “A body!” I gasped. “There’s a body back there on that table.” I covered my face with my hands and tried to get a grip on my nerves. “I touched the hand!”

  Cassie looked at me in horror. Her face was as white as my tee shirt used to be.

  “Whose body is it? Fatty’s?”

  “I…I guess so.” I turned to look back down the length of the room at the table where I had left the drinks. “We’ll have to collect the drinks.”

  “Not me!” gasped Cassie. “I’ll drink water. Leave them there. Let’s get out of here!”

  “Cassie, I can’t leave that mess for Horatio to find. Mother will never let me forget it. Besides, I spilled most of your drink on me and the rest on the floor.” I looked back down the aisle at the mess puddling on the linoleum. “I’ll have to clean it up.”

  “Please hurry, Mom. This place gives me the creeps.”

  I held out my hand. My fingers were steady and I wasn’t shaking anymore. “Pass me some of those paper towels by the sink. I’ll take care of the mess. Just stand by the door and make sure the lights don’t go off. I’ve had enough of the dark for one night.”

  I took the paper towels and walked deliberately back to the table where I had left the drinks. On my way, I straightened the other furniture and picked up the metal instruments and the tray I had knocked over. I was feeling better now and took the time to look around the rest of the room. The body I had touched in the dark seemed to be the only one in the morgue. Just one more example of my unfailing good luck.

  “I guess it was Fatty,” I called back to Cassie. “I don’t see any more of Horatio’s clients. Funny, the body doesn’t look all that big.”

  I edged my way around the table, careful to avoid touching any part of the white sheet. I shuddered when I remembered the cold fingers against my own warm flesh. And I remembered, too, how small and thin they were.

  “Cassie?”