“Why don’t you come over?”
“We wouldn’t want to wake up Charity.”
“She’s probably up looking at her jewelry. Trying on the whole collection takes hours.”
Chapter Five
A woman in a maid’s uniform came running out of the house. She looked disappointed when she saw Grace and Jack with Carlos. A boy who looked like Carlos followed her.
Carlos opened the door to a magnificent entryway.
“Is that a French Baccarat chandelier?” Grace whispered.
“Yes. It is,” replied a raspy voice on a settee with cushions that seemed to be sinking her body like quick sand. She looked tiny. Like she wasn’t carrying any muscle mass.
“We brought it back from Paris when we attended the 1925 art decoratif exhibition,” she explained.
“Oh, I wish I could have gone. We’re building an Art Deco house.” Grace looked longingly at the chandelier.
“You’re Charity. In name only, I presume.” Jack held out his hand.
She didn’t shake his hand but regally slipped her own in his for an instant.
“Where are you two living now?”
“I’m at the Del. And he’s at Tent City.”
“In my day, Del girls didn’t date Tent City boys. Except when we snuck out at night.”
The maid appeared again, pushing a silver tea cart filled with a silver tea service and petit fours.
“May I?” Charity asked, holding the tea pot poised over a cup.
Grace noticed both were Wedgewood.
“Of course,” she said.
“We’re all getting older,” Charity said, noticing Grace watching her maid shuffle.
“I could get new servants. But people get used to each other. They may hate or become indifferent but they get used to each other and have neither the energy nor the inclination or perhaps desire enough for the new. We stick with the old.”
The servant smirked when she shuffled away.
Tatania jumped through an open window and surreptitiously sniffed around the room, unnoticed by Charity. Clusters of pictures were nestled on the Grand Piano. Grace stood, and picked one up. “What a pretty family,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said, close to her ear, and Grace knew it was Carlos before she even turned around and looked at him.
“Miss Wentworth, I saw a picture of you in the paper after you solved the collection of emeralds, diamonds, and amethysts case, and I have to say the picture may have been pretty, but it didn’t do you justice.” He smiled, reached for her hand, and raised it to his lips.
Jack cleared his throat.
“Jack Brewster and I solved the case together.” Grace gestured towards Jack with her shoulder. She thought about mentioning Tatania, but Carlos didn’t look like he’d get a magical cat story. And she was a silent, secret, stealthy weapon.
Carlos had an olive complexion and eyes like midnight. He hadn’t many wrinkles for someone who spent everyday in the sun. His hands were as spotless and unwrinkled as a lady of the manor. She had the feeling he could shed skin like a rattlesnake. And underneath, he had a reptilian mind, like he could strike unexpectedly at any moment.
“Have you poured the foundation yet??” Charity’s eyes settled on Grace after looking around the room once.
“Almost,” she demurred.
“Do you know the Franklins?”
“No,” she said.
“They owned that lot before us. He remarried a much younger woman and died of a heart attack on the honeymoon. That’s why old guys shouldn’t fool around,” Charity said brightly, turning to her aging husband.
At the house, Tatania jumped up on the table and knocked over the glass of gin Carlos had been drinking.
“I’m so sorry,” Grace said, apologizing.
“Let me help.” Grace carried the glass in the kitchen. Then she slipped it into into her wrist purse. The maid’s hand had trembled slightly when she poured the tea. Grace thought of the precarious position servants occupy. If she couldn’t work, what would she do for money?
She had a British accent Grace couldn’t quite place. The maid sounded different from the British students she met at Finishing School in London.
“Where are you from?” Jack asked.
“East end of London, Sir,” she replied.
“Lovely. I lived in London for a while.” Grace returned and sipped the delectable mint tea and nibbled a petit four.
“Grace, the east end of London isn’t always lovely. You must not have taken any field trips there with your Finishing School.” Charity laughed.
Grace guessed that Charity and her maid were the same age.
“What’s your name?” Grace asked the maid.
“Hannah.”
Grace saw Tatania looking under a chair, rear end up in the air. She seemed unusually intrigued by Charity’s home.
Tatania swiveled her ears three times, became invisible, and flew to the kitchen while the humans talked. A terrier who resembled a rodent followed. His mouth moved so she knew he was barking. Tatania stayed invisible. She couldn’t risk humans alerted by the barking, and coming to inspect the kitchen. Tatania batted a dog biscuit out to the dining room and the dog took off running, leaving her alone.
She sniffed the container of Spratt’s dog biscuits. Wasn’t tempting to her feline taste. Poor kitty if one lived here. She could barely smell any fish or milk.
She moved onto the garage. They had a private gas pump. Tatania drew back from the assault of fumes on her delicate feline nose. Gas canisters of varying sizes littered the room.
She knew Grace wanted to get back to Zeus. Tatania swivelled her ears three times and became visible again.
Chapter Six
Tatania magically appeared again as they were saying goodbye to Charity and Carlos. They climbed back in the plane together. The coast seemed to belong only to them as the plane climbed higher, and Grace looked out at the expansive land. Orange trees. Houses that became matchboxes as they climbed higher. The promise of rich, fertile soil where anything could be planted and flourish. When they landed on North Island, a man who looked like Adonis smiled at Tatania. At about six feet, five inches tall, he made the tiny white cat look even more diminutive than usual.
“This cat must be deaf,” he said to Jack.
“Lucky guess. Grace, meet Charles Lindbergh.” Jack winked at Grace.
He was so good looking it felt uncomfortable to stare directly at him. Like the sun. Grace felt she should cut a hole in a paper plate instead of looking directly at him.
Grace took off Tatania’s scarf and goggles for her. The cat showed off her fluffy white tail by draping it around her.
“She’s beautiful,” Charles Lindbergh said.
“Thank you. She’s a little angel.” Jack stroked his kitty.
Grace put all their flying gear in the plane until next time.
“I’m hoping you make it across the Atlantic. You deserve it.” Jack patted him on the back.
“You’ll be in our prayers. We’ll be sending good thoughts and prayers your way.” Grace fought a sudden urge to leave with him. The skeleton seemed so foreboding.
“He’s so good looking. I can’t believe he’s shy.”
“Someone said that about me?” Jack asked.
“No. I just said that about Charles Lindbergh.”
“I can’t tell if men are good looking. I assume when you say good looking, you mean me. I’ve never seen Charles with a woman. And I’ve seen him around a lot lately. They’re building Spirit of St. Louis for his transatlantic flight over at Ryan Air.”
“So when they call him Lucky Lindy it has nothing to do with women?”
“Why do you think men are all about chasing women?”
“Observation.”
“They call him Lucky Lindy because he survived air mail runs that killed other men. In the first year of air mail service, over half the men died. He became known for parachuting out of burning planes.”
“O
h Dear. How is he going to parachute out over the Atlantic?”
“Exactly. It would probably take great sex to talk him out of it. You train men with sex and dogs with food.”
“And how do you train cats?” Grace watched Tatania groom her fluffy tail to perfection.
“You don’t train cats at all. It’s enough to be beautiful. And adorable. Life asks nothing more of them.” Tatania jumped on Jack’s shoulder approvingly. It had been her favorite perch since Jack rescued her from drowning by a breeder who thought Tatania’s deafness would mar her Persian Pedigree bloodline.
“Zeus,” Grace called when they walked around the island. She hoped he hadn’t gone far.
By the time they reached Spreckels Theater on Orange Street, she still hadn’t seen the cute black and white kitty that made her heart sing.
The Spreckels Theater was showing The Beloved Rogue with John Barrymore.
“Is that the story of your life Jack?”
“Am I beloved?”
“Of course. Is that actress as pretty as me?” Grace pointed to the movie poster.
“That would be impossible,” Jack said and leaned over to kiss her.
Chapter Seven
Grace barely slept. She woke up worrying about Zeus. Jack snored while Tatania relaxed into a deep slumber on his chest.
“Zeus,” Grace called out the window.
She looked back at the bed. Tatania yawned. She acted like she’d just forgot about him. She jumped on the window sill, brushing past Grace and jumped flawlessly as a ballerina to the ground.
Jack looked up at her.
“I’ll call the cops and let them know about the skeleton. If you get back in bed now.”
Grace forgot about the skeleton. She had Jack.
She slipped out of her red silk nightgown. Jack said, “That nightgown looks good on the floor.”
He held her to him and the rest of the world slipped away like it always did when there was only Jack with her. Then the phone rang with a reminder of her Revolutionary Colonial Daughters Lunch.
“Jack, if I don’t get to Revolutionary Colonial Daughters, they’ll be short of lunch money. And they’re relying on me for the flag ceremony. And I said I’d pick up Victoria and give her a ride.” Grace rolled over and looked at the clock.
“I’ll take care of everything.” Jack kissed her forehead.
Tatania was sleeping in the back of Jack’s Pierce Arrow. Grace started the car and drove past the bay, turning right on Orange Street to Victoria’s resplendent English Tudor home.
Victoria stood outside at the curb, smoking a cigarette in a long ebony holder.
“New cigarette holder?” Grace asked, pulling up to the curb.
“This old thing? I picked it up with my first husband on an African safari years ago.”
Tatania chose the moment to emit a loud piercing meow from the back seat. Victoria jumped.
“Tatania’s deaf. She can’t hear her own meow,” Grace explained.
“Perhaps she should consider herself fortunate.” Victoria smoothed her skirt and flicked her ash out on the street.
“She’s a lovely kitty. Jack rescued her from a breeder who wanted to drown her because she thought the deafness would mar her Persian Pedigree line.”
“You meow as loudly as you want.” Victoria turned back to reach in the back seat to pet Tatania.
“Will she wait for us in the back seat of the car while we’re at the meeting?”
“Being a cat, she’ll decide what she wants to do on her own.” Grace stroked Tatania’s chin with one gloved hand.
She turned into the Hotel del Coronado’s entrance. A valet came forward to open the door. Victoria suggested walking by Jessop & Son Jewelers.
“I’ll pick out something for my husband to buy me. I get a present with an apology for every affair he has,” she said.
“Jack should buy you that emerald and diamond ring. It matches your eyes.” Victoria stared at Grace.
“We’re building a house. That takes money.” Grace looked away.
“Did you break ground?”
“Yes. And so far, that’s netted us a skeleton and a Coca Cola bottle.”
Victoria got a strange look in her eye.
“This is the lot Charity and Carlos used to own, right?”
“Yes.” Grace’s stomach flipped again.
“There was a lot of talk about a girl disappearing about a decade ago. And rumors about Carlos,” Victoria leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “he’s such a ladies man. And one night, about that time, I saw him sitting by the bay, head in his hands. It looked like such a private moment of grief. Even I couldn’t intrude on it.”
Revolutionary Colonial Daughters, a society formed to honor the patriots who made America possible, filled the Crown Room. Well heeled women mingled amidst the waiters serving appetizers from silver trays. An orchestra played in the booths situated above the diners along the wall.
Grace took a deep breath. When she’d lost her family, Revolutionary Colonial Daughters kept her rooted.
“I hear you have a skeleton, Dear,” a kindly woman she’d never met before said.
She leaned over and whispered, “We all have our skeletons.”
“How did you know that? “ Grace asked, hand on her chest.
“Oh, Dear, Annie is more efficient than the telegraph, radio, newspapers, and telephone combined. Tell her when you want to spread news. Not keep it secret.”
“Why haven’t I seen you at all the meetings?” She asked.
“Probably because I was at Finishing School until last summer. And now, I’ve opened a Detective Agency with my guy: Wentworth and Brewster.”
“You’re Grace Wentworth. Good for you. A modern woman. I’m Sarah. Sarah Randolph.” She held out her hand to shake. Then she drew on her cigarette. Grace didn’t feel any inclination to smoke but she’d taken up admiring cigarette holders. Sarah’s was about seven inches long, ebony, with rhinestones that spelled out SR.
“And you’re building a house with your guy?”
“Yes. Once we get past the bodies to pouring the foundation. Skeletons belong in the closet.”
“Anyone who didn’t have skeletons would bore me.” Sarah drew on her cigarette again, blowing smoke out of red lips that matched her cloche hat. She had a bobbed dark perm that set off the red.
“There was a mystery here about ten years ago. No, I guess it was about twenty five years ago. A woman disappeared. It was in all the papers.”
“Disappeared in Coronado?”
“Yes, she had come out to get married to a polo player. She didn’t get married in her wedding dress. I think she got buried in it.”
“She was killed?”
“You’re a detective. You tell me. It was in all the papers. And the rumored polo player was already married to a wealthy La Jolla matron.”
“Carlos was the polo player?”
“Yes.”
“And the La Jolla matron?”
“Her name is Charity—”
“—Ironically enough.”
“Yes. And you know the cliche, Charity begins at home. She was eager to take Carlos into her home. Carlos went right into her home and never left. Start with the old newspapers. Then follow the trail to Charity. Follow the money.”
The meeting was called to order. They stood and sang the Star Spangled Banner, hands over hearts, facing the American Flag, and remembering all who sacrificed for it, so they could live in this glorious moment in 1927.
“The girl was from New York. Or as some of my ancestors liked to call it, New Amsterdam,” Annie Knickerbocker smiled. Grace felt happy to see Annie again.
An elderly woman sitting next to them laughed.
“Thank you. I haven’t smiled in a week. I wake up with aches and pains.” She looked impeccably groomed. “I have good days and bad days.”
“You look good,” Grace said.
“You can’t go by how I look,” she replied.
Charity tou
ched Grace’s shoulder and said, “I love your dress,” smirking at her.
Grace drew back from her. The Chanel dress was a thrift shop find bought after late Uncle Charles lost her inheritance in a Ponzi scheme. She noticed that Charity was the same size. For the first time, Charity seemed a bit smug. Was she capable of murder if a woman had an affair with her husband? Image was everything to her. For the first time, Charity didn’t seem exactly sympathetic.
Grace looked at the flag and remembered her ancestors helped to create the country. So what if she’d bought a dress from a thrift shop once. She still had the blood of courage coursing through her veins.
“You’re missed at the yacht club, Charity,” Annie said, handing the bread bowl to Charity.
“Do you think you’ll get another yacht?”
“Oh my goodness. The yacht was always for Carlos. I get terribly sea sick. It was a relief when your Uncle Charles took it in legal fees,” Charity answered, passing the bread bowl to Grace.
“Excuse me.” Charity got up to leave.
“She isn’t the first women who believes what her husband tells her when it suits her purpose. If ignorance is bliss, wives of philanderers must be some of the happiest people in the world,” Annie said.
They dined on sea bass, asparagus, and petit fours. A Red Rock Ginger Ale bottle on the table made Grace think of the bottle Zeus had found by the skeleton.
“It’s either a Red Rock bottle or early Coca Cola bottle because it doesn’t have the curvy shape Coca Cola bottles developed,” Jack had said.
Grace kept remembering Jack hitting the skeleton’s bones when he began shoveling dirt at the ground breaking ceremony. Was it bad luck to be building on a burial ground? Were there other bodies there? She wanted to be with Jack.
“Daughters, we will be having a special address by the President at our general meeting in Washington this year. We want you all to be there. We want to have a strong California presence.”
Grace listened to the speaker and yearned for Jack and Zeus and Tatania. She’d believed she was building a new life. Perhaps there’s no escaping the past.
Chapter Eight
Magical Cool Cats Mysteries Boxed Set Vol 2(Books 4,5,6 & 7) Page 2
