Murder at Peacock Mansion

by Judy Alter

  He rose again, obviously well trained in gentlemanly ways. “Please do.”

  During this little interchange I studied him. His eyes were brown, small, and a bit puffy, as though perhaps he’d had too much to drink the night before. They didn’t sit well with his pasty complexion. I decided I would not buy a car from him.

  “I’m Rodney Aldridge,” he offered by way of introduction, “and I know full well who you are. My stepmother has talked of you recently.”

  “All good, I hope.” I was a bit at a loss what to say.

  “I want to talk to you about Edith. I’m afraid she’s losing it.”

  “Losing what?” I knew full well what he meant. Why are we playing cat and mouse here? His next statement made it plain.

  “Her mind. She’s seeing things that don’t exist, threats to her that are pure fabrication. I am no longer comfortable having her live in that house.”

  What he’s really saying is that he wants her out of the house, and he doesn’t care where she goes. “You could hire a daytime nurse, and doesn’t Lucy, the housekeeper, live in the house with her?”

  “All that is true, except Lucy doesn’t stay at night. I’m afraid Edith would never stand for such an arrangement. She’s a very independent woman. I’ve tried to suggest that for years, but she wasn’t buying it.”

  Smart woman. More in control of her faculties than you are! I was saved from having to reply by the appearance of David, hobbling on his crutches. He did so much better on them after a few practice sessions. Still, this was his first solo trip from house to café. I knew he’d come around the front way to avoid the steep meadow in between, but still I was surprised to see him.

  He was equally surprised to see me with Rodney and his good morning was brusque till I asked if he wanted to meet Rodney Aldridge. Then he made his way to the table, held out his hand for a shake, and said heartily, “Nice to meet you. Mind if I join you?”

  Rodney, who had stood for the greeting, looked definitely skeptical.

  “David is your stepmother’s lawyer,” I explained. “I’m sure you’ll want to share your concerns with him.”

  David was back to the cagey man I knew. I smiled inwardly. Rodney Aldridge had met his match.

  “Concerns? She seemed perfectly well when I saw her yesterday.” He was almost too hearty. “’Course there’ve been a couple minor problems in her household. You knew about the trip wire, of course.”

  Rodney was tight-lipped. “Of course.”

  “Interesting,” David said. “How did you know about it?”

  Rodney tried to appear urbane. “She told me, of course. We’re quite close.”

  David raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any suspicions about who might be interested in harming her?”

  Rodney appeared thoughtful, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. At long last, he said, “That Lucy who stays with her. She has a disreputable brother. Hangs around the house a lot. Always thought he was mooching a free meal.”

  David carefully took a pad out of his pocket along with a pen. “Brother’s name?”

  He stammered again. “I’m not sure. I just know he’s Lucy’s brother. Don’t trust either of them.”

  “Pity,” I said. “Edith seems to have so much faith in Lucy.” I rose to refill coffee cups and check on what else was going on in the café, but as I turned away, I heard Rodney say, “She never was a good judge of character.”

  I wondered if that was a derogatory reflection on his father or a comment on her failure to appreciate Rodney.

  I got busy on the cash register, every once in a while casting a look at the two men. David had what I called his lawyerly look on—skeptical, bemused, and utterly unconvinced. Well before noon, Rodney stood to leave. David remained seated but reached out to shake the other man’s hand, and Rodney stalked out the door.

  “You’re welcome for the coffee,” I muttered under my breath. We had both forgotten his order for tuna and, after David arrived, Rodney never mentioned lunch. He probably would have found something wrong with the tuna anyway.

  David stayed for lunch, and as soon as I could get away I plonked myself down at his table. “Well?” I demanded.

  His eyes were laughing as he looked at me. “You tell me.”

  “A big bunch of hot air and bluff.”

  He leaned over and kissed me right there in front of Gram, Marj, and the whole café. “I always knew you were smart. I called Edith. Lucy has no brother, and when quizzed said no man has been hanging around her kitchen.

  Said, and I quote, she ‘wouldn’t let any trash hang out here.’ There is a groundskeeper, who’s there a lot of the time.”

  I took a deep breath. David was back, and we could work on this together. I forgot about Steven, which was my mistake.

  “I’ve called Steven. He’ll do a complete background check on all three stepchildren.”

  Steven, I decided, was going to take all the fun out of the game.

  ****

  That evening about five thirty, Donna came into the café, all aflutter. Donna’s my twin sister, but we haven’t really gotten along since the day we were born. Totally different personality types, though Gram raised us with equal love and discipline. Donna was always in rebellion, but it never turned out well for her. I was the quiet one who never caused trouble, but I was the one who left Wheeler for the big city of Dallas and had a career—Donna resented that. In recent years, Donna had gotten into a few scrapes—like suspicion of murder, just a minor thing—and I was there to help her husband pull her, kicking and screaming, out of danger. Sisters are sisters, after all, and there is a bond there. We just don’t spend much time together.

  “Kate, I’ve got the most exciting new guests coming tomorrow. A Mrs. Middleton and her daughter, from Dallas. I think they’re sort of—you know—high society.”

  After several false starts, Donna now operated a B&B that was doing pretty well. She’d never make back her initial investment—she used her inheritance from Gram for that—but she broke even most months, according to Tom, her husband. She offered guests either a bare-bones breakfast plan or a “deluxe” plan under which she’d serve a formal dinner every evening. Trouble was that Donna’s not much of a cook.

  “Mrs. Middleton chose the deluxe plan, so I have to plan several meals.” She looked at me coyly, but I knew what was coming. “I need your help.”

  “Of course you do, Donna. I’ll be glad to make suggestions and give you directions, but I can’t cook a gourmet meal in this kitchen while we’re handling the dinner crowd. What do you want to serve?”

  “I don’t know. I sort of hoped you’d tell me.”

  “Donna, it’s five thirty, dinner hour. Can we do this at nine tonight or in the morning?”

  “I’ll be back at eight thirty tonight. In the morning I’ll have to grocery shop and make up the beds. I have a lot to do!” She shook her head so indignantly that the brown ponytail bobbed up and down. As usual, she was dressed in high style—leggings, three-inch heels, and a long tunic with a sweater casually thrown over her shoulders to ward off the evening chill. Of the two of us, Donna was definitely the fashion plate.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “While I’m here, could you fix me five meatloaf plates to go, with mashed potatoes and I guess the green beans?”

  Donna had never gotten over the idea that the café was her own personal dining service, and she never offered to pay. For me, it was a small price for friendship. I turned in the order, handed it to her a few minutes later, and sent her on her way. All evening, while I waited on customers, checked them out, and saw the business of the café, I was reviewing menus in the back of my mind. I didn’t give another thought to Mrs. Middleton.

  By eight thirty only a few customers lingered, and the wait staff was taking care of them. Donna and I settled at a table near the cash register so I could pop up to check people out when needed. I generally didn’t let the staff handle the cash register—a business policy that I thought good insuranc
e.

  “For the first night, how about a good chicken Divan with haricot vert and oven-roasted potatoes?”

  “What’s chicken Divan and whatever in the world are harry-coat verts?”

  My sister lived in a chicken-fried world. I explained, gave her the simplest chicken Divan recipe ever, and told her how to roast potatoes with rosemary. She could get the rosemary out of my yard.

  “Tom and the kids will love this too,” I said.

  “Oh, Tom will have to cook for them. I’ll be Little Miss Domesticity in a clean white apron, serving dinner at Tremont House.”

  Tom and the kids will be at the café tomorrow night, I told myself gleefully. Tom was like the big brother I never had, and I adored my two nieces and nephew. They adored Huggles and me.

  ****

  The next morning I got two frantic phone calls from Donna, but pretty much I put her cooking problems out of my mind. I’d left the house long before David woke, so I didn’t see him until he came in at noon and asked if it was too late for eggs and bacon. Normally, I turn down such requests—breakfast is over at ten thirty—but I filled his order myself.

  “Steven called. He’s fast, and he’s already located Rodney’s siblings. No background checks yet, but they don’t sound like killers to me.”

  I waited.

  “Edith said the other day that James, the youngest Aldridge child, the one that’s an artist, lives in Edom. Just down the road. He’s got a gallery, lives above it. Single but has a live-in girlfriend. Lives modestly. Steven suspects he still has much of his inheritance left, whereas Rodney has blasted through his. He’ll dig deeper to find out.”

  “And the daughter?”

  “Married well. I suspect Walter Aldridge would have seen to that. Lives in Highland Park in Dallas—can’t get much tonier than that. Name is Rose Mitchum. One daughter, a deb next year. Lives the upscale life. Husband’s a big-time lawyer. I’ve met him. Probably will all pan out well.”

  For just a second there, I thought he was going to say her last name was Middleton and a big alarm bell was ready to go off in my head. I guess I was too used to seeing conspiracies everywhere I went.

  David watched me. He knew me well enough to follow my thought process. “What?”

  So I told him about Mrs. Middleton checking into the Tremont House, and he laughed out loud. Such a good sign.

  “Kate, haven’t you learned that life is full of coincidences but it doesn’t usually tie up that neatly in a pretty package?”

  I blushed. “Let’s go for a ride,” I said, glad to change the subject. “You need fresh air, and it’s a lovely spring day. Wish I had a convertible.”

  “You’re right. Let’s go. We spend too much time on Edith Aldridge’s affairs. Let’s go check on my house.”

  Not exactly the kind of outing I had in mind, but I dutifully headed the car toward David’s burned-out house.

  You could smell the ruins as you turned into the driveway—an acrid smell, mixed with damp and mold. Not pleasant at all. We’d brought Huggles with us, and he barked in displeasure. I pulled into the clearing, and we both sat and stared—the porch had now fallen in, helped I supposed, by James’ plunge through it. The shell of the lake side of the house still stood, looking ghostly in its emptiness. His car had been towed to a garage in Canton.

  David struggled out of my car. “I didn’t come here to mourn the loss,” he said. “I want to begin planning the future.”

  Three cheers for optimistic thinking! I scrambled out of the car and released Huggles, who bounded off to the water’s edge. David followed him, and I tagged along behind, though I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that someone was watching us. Nonsense, Kate. Get your act together. Big One and John are in jail, and Rodney would hardly stoop to hiding in the bushes.

  “Here,” David said. “It’s where we’ll put the house.” The site was slightly to the right of the burned ruin. “They won’t overlap, but I’ll have to do some investigating to see how to treat the soil under the burned stuff. Does ash make things grow?”

  I shrugged. I needed Dave Millican to help me with that question. Dave had owned a wonderful nursery in Wheeler, across the road from the café, but he hadn’t put his past completely behind him and was eventually arrested for dealing drugs. A part of me still hoped he’d been set up, because he was one of the kindest, gentlest men I’ve ever met. On his last day of freedom—and he surely knew what was coming—he’d spent the day building a fence for me. I briefly thought myself in love with him, and though that feeling had long ago fled, I still grieved for him.

  “Earth to Kate! Are you listening to me?” David called so loudly that if anyone was hiding in the trees they heard him clearly.

  “Sorry. I got carried away for a moment.”

  He grinned. “I was saying I want to build one of those small houses here—the kind that are really efficient in their use of space. I’ve found some plans I’d like to use, you know cherry-pick from this one and that one. But there’s one that has a sleeping porch at one end, and I figured that would face the water. Can’t you imagine sleeping out in summer with a slight breeze?” He positively glowed with excitement.

  I didn’t tell him what I imagined was oppressive heat and bothersome bugs, especially mosquitos this close to the water. And throw in the possibility of a snake.

  “I’ll show you the plans when we get back to Wheeler. But then I want to grow vegetables where the old house was. That’s why I have to find out about treating the soil. This will be a whole different place, one that I built from scratch by myself.”

  I was aghast. “You’re going to build it?”

  He laughed. “No, of course not. I’ll hire someone, but I’ll get Cary to drive me out every day so I can supervise. Blast this ankle. I can’t wait until I can drive again.” He looked sheepish. “Not that you haven’t been really sweet about it.”

  I was used to hearing myself described a lot of ways. “Sweet” wasn’t one of them. “I better get back to the café,” I said almost brusquely.

  When we were back in the car, I still had that eerie feeling of being watched, and in that moment before I turned the key and started the motor, I heard another motor start—on the farm road, by the turn into David’s driveway.

  Someone had followed us and spied on us. Who and why? I didn’t bother David with those questions because he had other things on his mind. Before I could put the car in gear, he turned and enveloped me in a huge hug which led to a passionate kiss. I felt myself responding, realizing how I’d missed this side of our relationship.

  Shakily, I said, “We better get back to the café.” But I drove with what Gram would have called improper thoughts, not held at bay by the fact that David had his hand on my thigh.

  Gram? Just look the other way. Please?

  Chapter Nine

  Edith Aldridge hadn’t called in several days, which I took as a good sign. Maybe nothing—or nobody—was bothering her. But she came to the café one morning about nine, ordered a sticky bun and coffee, and sat and waited until I could visit with her.

  Once I sat down at the table, she wasted no time on preliminaries. “I understand Walter’s children are all in the immediate area. They must be planning something.” She was quite matter-of-fact about it, but a frown of worry knit her eyes closer together.

  I thought for a moment. “Yes, I believe Rodney is staying in Canton temporarily and, as you know, James lives in Edom. Has a gallery there. How did you know that?”

  “It’s part of my precaution. I keep up with their whereabouts most of the time. James is the sweetest of the three, but I doubt he has much of an artistic future. He’s waiting to live off that fortune he’s never going to get.”

  “Have you seen his work?”

  “No. I haven’t wanted to get close to any of the children. I know Walter thought James’ work was good, but he was hardly an unbiased observer. Or an art critic. What do you know about Rose?”

  “Nothing, except that she l
ives in Highland Park. As far as I know, she’s not any closer than that. But I’ll talk to David—his investigator, Steven, can probably find out more.”

  “That would be good. I’m sure, with them circling around, they’re plotting something. It makes me uneasy. I’ve doubled my security measures at the house.”

  Those measures were already so strong, I had no idea how she could double them. But at the same time, I thought for the first time that she sounded a little harsh about the “children.” Had she ever tried to get to know them, or had it been an antagonistic relationship all along? It also occurred to me that she was so anxious to save her life, but what kind of life did she have, living alone in that mansion and never venturing out?

  She stayed a while longer, inquired about David and why she hadn’t seen him.

  “I just can’t drop the café and drive him wherever and whenever he wants to go. He has a teenager who drives him around after school, and I’m sure if you need him, he’ll come any afternoon. But right now he’s wrapped up in plans for rebuilding at the site of his burned-out cabin. You know, those small houses people are so crazy about these days. He wants one of those.”

  She snorted. “Not good for people to live on top of each other in small spaces. You need room for privacy. Lord knows, I value mine.”

  Well, there was the answer to one of my questions. But I still wondered what went through her mind when she woke up and thought, “What shall I do today?” Aloud, I reminded her that David lived alone, which earned me a long, knowing look from her.

  After Edith departed—I refused her offer to pay for her bun and coffee—I sat there for a long time puzzling over her. She was abrupt, but I guess after all she’d been through, she had the right. And if I felt my life was in danger, I’d be abrupt too. I suddenly knew what I was going to do next—and I wasn’t telling David.

  ****

  He came in for lunch but hurried back to the house. He was talking to a contractor he knew in Dallas and an architect. They were planning the small house. I tried hard to raise some enthusiasm, but the house seemed remote when Edith Aldridge was worried about her life and her stepchildren seemed to be closing in on her.