“So? Some older people don’t like credit cards.” Bryan would never cease to be amazed at Seth’s resources. His uncle seemed to know everyone. “And she banks under a mattress.”
“But she’s running a business,” Melanie argued.
They were early, so they sat outside Julie Pedigren’s apartment building. Melanie looked at her watch. “Let’s go see what Julie thinks about Leona Turva.”
Bryan took Melanie’s arm as they walked to the building. She looked up at him. “You agree with Hank, don’t you, Bryan? I can see that. You think nothing will come of all this worry and time we’re putting in.”
“Maybe I do, Mel. But I care about you. Even if you’re chasing a wild goose, I’ll go along. I want to be with you.”
Bryan didn’t know whether to hope they found some tie with Leona to Paulie’s death or not. But he could see Melanie becoming more and more obsessed with this investigation—and, he hated to say, with dancing in Madame Leona’s exclusive troupe.
She also looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes. All the things she’d said about Paulie were showing up again—in Melanie.
ten
ON THE SIDEWALK, looking for Julie’s number, Bryan brought up another possibility. “Melanie, you said Paulie had wanted to dance all her life, wanted that career. Isn’t there a possibility that quitting left her depressed? That maybe under other circumstances she’d never have committed suicide, but she might have done it accidentally?”
“You’re saying she had an unconscious death wish?” Melanie was willing to talk about the possibility.
“Something like that.”
“What about the police saying her brakes failed?” Seth pointed out.
“Maybe that was a gentle way of telling her parents that Paulie failed to apply the brakes. Maybe the erratic skidding showed she changed her mind, but it was too late.”
Melanie stared at him. “There would be no way to know that.”
They were quiet until they found Julie Pedigren’s small row house. Now that Bryan had heard the entire story again, with some added information, he didn’t know what to think about it. He did tend to agree with Hank, but Melanie had such strong opinions, too. He hated to think that he and Seth were just being wishy-washy. If they’d had a best friend killed, they would feel differently, he was sure.
They found Julie waiting, and in no time the foursome were seated in Julie’s Victorian-style living room. Julie had probably just gotten home from work. She wore an oriental housecoat and was lighting a cheery fire.
“I made some spiced tea.” Julie spread cheese, apple slices, black olives, and salted cashews on a crystal plate. “I know dancers are always hungry.”
“Oh, Julie, you shouldn’t have gone to any trouble,” Melanie said. “At least let me serve it. You sit down.” Bryan hurried to help Melanie pass cups of the sweet-smelling tea.
“I am exhausted.” Julie curled into an overstuffed, well-worn chair with a cup of the steaming liquid. “I’ve hardly had time to shop properly in two weeks. Fortunately I usually have snack food.” She smiled. “I miss you in my classes, Melanie.”
Playing hostess, Melanie smiled thanks to Julie, then she warmed her hands on the cup and looked around. The small room overflowed with paintings and framed photos, all of English pastoral scenes. “Nice house.”
Julie had seen her looking. “It’s not the Seaton Arms—I heard you went there the other night—but it’s me. Leona says she’d gladly trade her fancy apartment for my cozy house, but I’ll keep the house.”
“It is quite a contrast, but I agree with you. I certainly feel more comfortable here than at Nicol’s.”
“That’s an understatement,” said Hank, laughing.
Small talk out of the way, Julie looked at Melanie. “Now what did you want to talk to me about, Melanie?”
“Julie,” Melanie looked around at Bryan and the rest of the group. “Will you tell us everything you know about Madame Leona—her background.”
Julie took a few seconds to look at each of her visitors, but she didn’t ask why they wanted to know. “I know only what Ilene Greenway told me. Leona Turva is well off. Very. She probably doesn’t need the school to make a living. She’s traveled a lot. She’s a superb dancer—or was. Ilene said Leona was once a member of the Budapest S.S.R. Ballet, which is no small achievement, and she owns the Arbuthnot Shop next to the theater.”
“Do you know anything about the three women she brought with her to Bellponte?” asked Bryan, remembering Mel’s stories.
“Nicol, Anne, and Janell?” Julie studied what was left of her tea. “I met them. It was all the contact I cared to have. They were pretty cool to me. The one named Nicol seems very bright and friendlier than the others. She speaks and smiles, at least. I can never get over those eyes when I see her. I’ve never seen anything like them. That blue-gray like translucent ice. If they were any lighter—”
“They’d seem to vanish?” Melanie asked.
Julie blinked. “Yes, Mel. Yes … That’s how they impressed me.”
Seth grabbed a handful of cashews. “Sounds as if you don’t feel entirely comfortable at the school, Julie. How come you’ve stuck around?”
“When I knew Ilene Greenway had sold, I planned to quit. But I got a letter from the Dance La’Vousier in Paris. From Leona Turva. She asked me to stay, to keep my classes intact. For my trouble, she sent a check for twenty-five hundred dollars.” Julie shrugged and smiled. “So I stayed. I do feel pretty settled in here. That was in late July, I think.”
“A check—she sent you a check?” Seth asked.
Julie thought about Seth’s question. “Now that you mention it, it was an international money order.”
“Why do you think Ilene sold the school, Julie?” asked Melanie. “She and my mother were friends. Mom can’t believe she left. Dance was her life, and she had told my mom that she loved it here. She’d planned to stay until she retired.”
Julie shook her head. “I was surprised. The money, maybe. She said Leona had offered her a lot. That coupled with several annoyances.”
“Like what?” asked Bryan.
“Well, Leona bought the Arbuthnot Shop first, it seems. We didn’t know who the owner was at the time, but it came out later. The noise of the remodeling was terrible. Ilene complained about it time after time. We had plaster coming off the walls in the studio from that brick wall they have in common. Even Mr. Brandish complained about the dust and dirt and having to work all night repairing our walls.”
“That was only temporary,” Melanie said. “Not a reason to leave. What else happened?”
“Ilene came back to work one day after lunch to find her terrier dead. It was lying in the middle of the studio floor.”
“I remember that.” Melanie poured Julie more tea. She seemed on the verge of tears. “But wasn’t he really old?”
“Not that old. And he hadn’t been sick or anything. Ilene was distraught. He was her only family. She even let the vet do an autopsy. He was puzzled, and he found nothing. He said it must have been a heart attack. There wasn’t anything to suggest foul play.
“Ilene was so depressed. I stayed with her that night. The next day I bumped into Leona as I was leaving the school. She was headed for Ilene’s office.”
“You think Leona put pressure on Ilene at a weak moment?” Bryan thought of how strong and intense Leona was.
“That’s all I can think. When I came to work the next day, I found Ilene gone and Leona the new owner, but she was gone, too. Voska seemed to be in charge, and you know how easy she is to talk to. She told me to continue with business as usual. By the end of the week, I had the letter and the money from Leona.”
There was a moment of silence while they considered Julie’s story. Then Bryan spoke. “You don’t think Leona had anything to do with the dog dying, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think, Bryan. Surely not.”
“Ilene just disappeared?” Melanie asked. “She d
idn’t leave you a note? Have you heard from her since?”
“I got a scribbled postcard from London. She’d mentioned that she’d always wanted to go there. But I didn’t understand her not telling me she was going—much less that she’d sold the school. We were pretty good friends.”
“Are you sure the postcard was from her?” Hank asked.
Julie looked as if she’d never questioned that it was. “I—I guess so. It looked as if she’d written it quickly, and it didn’t say much. I think I still have it at the studio. It was postmarked in London. I know that. I tried to read the date, but it was smeared. You don’t think—” Julie couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I can think anything where Madame Leona is concerned.” Bryan reached for some cheese. “I don’t like the woman.”
Julie thought of something else. “A lot of people didn’t know Ilene was married once. Her ex-husband lives in Syracuse. I think he still carries a torch for Ilene. He called me last month, asking about Ilene, asking me if I’d heard from her. The last time he’d talked to her was in September. He seemed worried. I gathered Ilene did keep in touch with him.”
There was another pause in the conversation. Then Melanie changed the subject.
“And Paulie—we actually came to talk about Pauline McMasters.” Melanie shifted in her chair. Bryan could tell she didn’t feel really comfortable questioning Julie.
“What a waste of a talented life.” Julie shook her head. “She stopped in to visit just before she—just before—I was busy. She seemed anxious to talk to me. Afterwards, I felt bad, of course. I could have given her a few minutes. I knew she wasn’t getting along with Leona. I heard one blow-up they had. But Paulie, despite being a fine dancer, was never easy to work with. She didn’t respond well to pressure, and she needed a lot of approval, a lot of attention. Leona isn’t one to pamper anyone, even a good dancer.”
“That’s true,” Melanie added. “As smart as Paulie was, as talented, she didn’t have as much self-confidence as she should have had. I was always having to talk her into trusting herself. And she was very superstitious. She was always talking about luck—good luck, bad luck. She carried charms and—”
“Oh, I’d forgotten.” Julie jumped up and hurried out of the room. The whole group looked at Melanie, but she shook her head to indicate she didn’t know what Julie had forgotten.
Julie was back in seconds. “A few days after the accident, her parents stopped by—they were a mess—but they thought I might understand this. Paulie did stay and talk to me a lot. I’m sorry, Melanie. I know you and Paulie were close. The Highway Patrol had given them Paulie’s purse—it was thrown clear of the—the fire.”
Melanie took the note that Julie handed her and shared it with Bryan. He hoped Melanie was all right. Her face was white and the circles under her eyes even darker. The note was handwritten in blue ink, a flowing, feminine style.
Melanie nodded. “That’s Paulie’s handwriting.”
Bryan read it aloud. “I divorce myself from the influence of this place. I care nothing for what is here; nor bother myself with judgment. Also, I seek no communication with what might surround me. It is all beyond my eyes; it is all beyond my ears. I am the garden which I tend. I am also its wall.”
“Her parents asked if I thought it was a suicide note,” said Julie. “I told them no way was Paulie suicidal.”
Melanie slowly shook her head in agreement. “But it doesn’t make any sense to me. What’s this it’s stapled to?” She lifted the note.
Hank and Seth moved to look over Bryan’s shoulder. “It’s two tarot cards,” said Melanie. “The Nine and the Six of Swords.”
“You know the cards?” Seth asked. “Melanie, you’re always full of surprises.”
“Paulie and I played with them for a time. It was fun.” Melanie took the cards and the note. Her voice was hoarse, an octave lower, caught by emotion. “This note doesn’t surprise me. Paulie was sometimes melodramatic.”
“Do you know what those particular cards mean?” Hank asked.
“The six—that stands for a trip, surmounting difficulties. Remember, she was going to her grandmother’s to—to get away. But the reverse, if I remember means unwanted interferences.”
“Leona. And the nine?” Seth prompted.
“The nine …” Melanie paused, holding the card which pictured a figure in bed, her face covered as if crying, nine swords hanging on the wall in the background. “The nine means sadness, quarrels, disappointments. It’s appropriate.”
“Maybe the note and the cards were her way of symbolically casting off the troupe and Leona,” Bryan said. “At least for the weekend.”
“Maybe she was thinking on paper, trying to work out something,” Melanie suggested. “I often do that.”
The phone rang. Julie answered, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Excuse me for a minute, guys.”
“We have to go, Julie,” Melanie said, standing. “We’ve taken too much of your evening, and I know you’re tired. We’ll let ourselves out. Thanks.” She led the way out Julie’s front door. “I think that was her friend, and she said he was about to give up on her for being so busy.” Melanie looked at Bryan when she said that. He hugged her, trying to reassure her that he’d never give up on her.
“Let’s go eat,” Seth suggested. “We can talk about this.”
“Before we do, will you all indulge me one more stop?” Melanie asked. “Something has been bothering me ever since I met Nicol, and Julie reminding me of her eyes again jogged my memory.”
“If it will only take five minutes,” Seth decided.
“Don’t ask any questions yet,” Melanie said, getting into the front seat of the car. “I want to go back to the theater. Actually to the Arbuthnot Shop. I think they’re open until six.”
Bryan looked at Melanie and started the car. It was a very quiet but, fortunately, a very short trip.
“We’d better not all go in. But Bryan, will you go with me?” Melanie led the way, practically running. “Hurry. I’m afraid the shop will close. I have to know.”
She took Bryan’s hand, tugging him into the shop. The bell jingled, but as before, no one came running.
“What’s on your mind, Melanie?” Bryan asked. All he could think of were the swords on the wall, the row of nine swords on the Tarot card.
“Shhh.” Melanie pulled Bryan into the second room of the Arbuthnot, not towards the swords, but towards the portrait.
Together they stood before the painting of the woman in blue—the woman said possessed by devils in 1633. “I was right. I knew I was.” She looked at Bryan, who was also staring. Then their eyes met.
“It’s Nicol, isn’t it?” Bryan whispered.
Melanie nodded. “The spitting image.”
eleven
And the demon Batraal tempted her, and she was pulled this way and that like a disputed bone until she made her choice.
ON SUNDAY MORNING Melanie woke and immediately her mind returned to the painting. Bryan’s explanation was too easy. He’d said it was a fake. Someone had used Nicol for the model and then doctored the painting so it looked old. Maybe lots of the things in the shop were fakes.
Hank had laughed. “I can believe that Nicol is a witch, all right. But I don’t think I can handle thinking she’s come back from 1633 to haunt us.”
Everyone had laughed at that idea, so Melanie dropped it.
What did she think? She had no idea. But she did think it was a strange coincidence. Maybe she could just flat out ask Nicol. “Did you pose for that picture in the Arbuthnot, Nicol? The one that’s supposed to be old?” Or, “Is that your painting in the antique shop, Nicol? Did it belong to some ancient ancestor?” Couldn’t Nicol look enough like an ancestor to mistake the woman in the painting for her? But then how many people kept stuff lying around for more than three hundred years?
She pushed herself to a sitting position, tugged off the warm covers, and headed for the shower. Turning the water on as hot as
she could stand it, she let the spray pound down, clearing her head, her thinking. One hand searched for her shampoo. She lathered her hair with the lemon-smelling liquid and scrubbed, willing some answers to come to her rather than more and more confusing bits and pieces of this mystery—a mystery, it would seem, she had probably made up.
“Melanie? Melanie, are you in the shower? Guess who just now called?”
Melanie toweled her hair, then wrapped herself in the warm, pink bath sheet. “Bryan?” She stepped back into her bedroom, finding her mother perched on the edge of her unmade bed.
“No, not Bryan. Nicol, that girl from the troupe. She said she wanted to tell you how glad she was you came to the party the other night. And, she wanted to remind you that you said you’d go shopping with them this afternoon.”
That’s right, Nicol had asked her if she wanted to go into the city, but Melanie hadn’t said she would.
Katherine hopped up and practically ran to Melanie’s closet. “What can you wear? Oh, I wish we could afford some new clothes for you. I don’t have much cash. Do you have any money in your purse? You don’t want to let them know how poor we are right now. Maybe you can pretend you don’t like anything you see. You can say you just bought a bunch of stuff, or that you’re saving all your money for Christmas presents, or something.”
“Mother! Stop writing a script for me. I know how to talk to people. Is she still on the phone? Did you tell her I’d go?”
“Of course I told her you’d go.” Katherine looked at Melanie as if she’d lost her mind to think she’d say no.
“What if I already have plans for this afternoon?” Melanie didn’t but she’d hoped she would as soon as she talked to Bryan this morning. She’d call him when she got home. Maybe they could go out tonight. She started to get dressed. What could she wear?
“You don’t have plans, do you? If you do, you can cancel them. I was sure you’d want to go.”
The Dance Page 8
