by Judy Alter
The lunch rush died down, and I escaped a little before two, asking Marj once again to cover. Then I rushed to Donna’s to get clothes for the girls, going through their closets and dressers like a mad woman. Donna would have to straighten up behind me.
In the end my choices weren’t bad—leggings and short skirts for both girls, longish shirts with cropped tops to go over them, and any kind of shoes I could find that weren’t athletic shoes. When I got home and laid out their outfits, there were only mild groans, and I told them I’d not stand for any complaints. Then I went to see how I could match them, and finally chose black leggings, an ecru silk artist’s shirt, big and blousy, and gold chains—okay, faux gold.
Once we were in the car, with me still driving, Ava groused. “Why do we have to go see this old lady?”
“Because she’s David’s client and she has something she wants him to see.”
David interrupted. “Correction. Something she wants you to see.”
“I should have brought my iPad,” Ava said.
“I wouldn’t have let you pull it out. I bet you have your cell phone, and that’s enough.”
Jess piped up. “Is this the house with the swans and peacocks? I really want to see those.”
I guess she’d heard David and me talking about the Peacock Mansion. “Yes, it is. And girls, we’re going to have tea, which means tiny sandwiches and cakes.”
“And tea?” Ava asked.
“And tea. Even if you don’t drink it, you will sip politely. Because, no, it won’t be iced.”
When we pulled into the driveway, the girls were both awed by the grounds. I pulled the car smartly up in front of the entrance, got out, walked around the car, and nearly lost my lunch. “Girls, stay there. Do NOT get out of that car!”
David quickly opened his door, got out, and uttered something I wished he hadn’t said in front of the girls.
In front of us lay one of the peacocks, those wonderful birds that gave the mansion its name, an arrow piercing its chest, blood congealed around the wound. It was dead as dead can be. David poked at it with a stick, and said it had long ago stiffened.
“Can we get out now?” Jess called impatiently.
“No. You stay there.”
I looked at David. He interpreted the look and rang the doorbell.
Mrs. Aldridge answered quickly. “You’ve already seen what I called you here about.”
“Yes, and it’s horrible. But my nieces are in the car, and I can’t let them out to see this carcass. Can your hired man come move it?”
“Pshaw! He’s not around. Now that you’ve seen it, I’ll move it.” And she did. Dressed in another elegant at-home gown, she picked up the dead bird’s feet and began dragging it around the house and out of sight.
Inside the car the girls were clamoring. “What’s wrong with that bird?” “Is it dead?” “Why is she dragging it?” “Can’t it fly like most birds do?”
I got them out of the car and into the house through the door Mrs. Aldridge had left open. Fortunately, there were no bloodstains where the bird had lain. A tiny corner of my mind registered that meant the bird had died elsewhere and been dragged to the front door. For display for us? It was too much to puzzle on when I had to think of the girls.
Edith Aldridge came back inside, closing the door behind her. “Make yourselves comfortable in the parlor. I’ll just wash up and be right back.”
And she was. Ever the gracious hostess. I introduced the girls, and she asked, “Would you like to wander across the lawn to the swan pond?”
Ava looked temped, but Jess hung back. “No. I’m afraid.”
“Whatever of?” Mrs. Aldridge asked.
How could she be so oblivious? Jess was afraid of dead birds and people with bows and arrows and who knew what else?
Edith Aldridge did not hug Jess or say any of the comforting things I thought she would. Instead, almost briskly, she said, “You girls come with me. Lucy has made chocolate chip cookies and lemonade in the kitchen, especially for you. And she’ll give you a tour of the house, after she serves our tea.”
Jess looked at me hesitantly, but I hugged her and gave her a gentle pat on the behind so she followed Ava, who was apparently eager to see the house. Jess looked over her shoulder once, but I gave her a slight hand wave and what I hoped was a reassuring smile. If I thought too much about it, I’d realize this house was enough to frighten anyone. At least there were no mounted game heads—not in the part of the house I’d seen.
Edith Aldridge was all charm as she strolled back into the room. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize the dead peacock would upset the girls as much as it did me. I am, after all, very proud of those fowl…and fond of them. I had John L. put it in front of the door so you wouldn’t have to traipse all over the lawn. Thoughtless of me.”
“The girls will be fine.” David said that with more bravado than I felt. “Tell me what happened and why you wanted us to see it.”
She looked surprised, as though it was obvious why she wanted us to see it. I still wondered if she couldn’t tell us over the phone. “Why, I wanted you to see what lengths someone will go to in scaring me. I found Peter—that’s my senior peacock—on my morning walk, down by the swan pond.” She looked away for a moment. “Lucy was gone last night, and I was here alone, all safely locked and tucked when, when I heard a terrible scream, like a woman in great pain. I was afraid, naturally, to go investigate, but I did go at first light. And that’s what I found.”
David’s look was intense. “Why would anyone shoot a peacock…especially with a bow and arrow?”
“To scare me, of course. Rodney Aldridge is an archery expert. And also a falconer.”
What that had to do with anything was beyond me, but an archer? Rodney, the uptight businessman?
“Who is John L.?” David asked.
I knew he was thinking of Lucy’s worthless brother, as described by Rodney.
“The man who does my grounds, keeps them in good shape. The fowl are his responsibility too, and he was heartbroken this morning.”
Tea arrived. As I hoped, we once again had small sandwiches of egg salad, cream cheese and cucumber, and thinly sliced smoked salmon, along with a tray of petit fours. I didn’t want to overeat because we were going to dinner, but I wanted to eat enough to be polite. And, besides, the smoked salmon was out of this world. I reached for a third sandwich as David gave me a sideways look.
“How do you know Rodney is an archer? I thought you had nothing to do with the children all these years.”
“Steven Connell told me. He reports to me sometimes, and I called him this morning.”
David’s face turned red. “I thought I hired him for you, Edith.”
“You did. But I have confidence in him, and he came out first thing this morning, looked at the bird, and called me before noon to say archery was one of Rodney’s interests.”
My mind flashed back to the time she said she knew the children were in the area and dismissed our curiosity by saying she made it her business to keep up with their whereabouts. Did she know Steven before David brought him into this mess? Something was funny here.
I excused myself to go check on the girls. Edith gave me directions to the kitchen—go down the great hall, through the dining room, and through the swinging door to the butler’s pantry. I did, agog at what I saw. The long dining table was set for six with what looked to be authentic Imari china and matching gold flatware, with gold-rimmed goblets and wine glasses. A vision of Miss Havisham from Great Expectations flitted through my mind. Is she always hoping to host a dinner party on sudden notice? She’s lonely, this convinces me. I pushed through the swinging door, with one-way glass so, I supposed, the staff could watch for when they were needed but guests couldn’t see them.
The butler’s pantry held glass-fronted shelves with rows of various size and purpose glasses, all arranged like soldiers in a perfect army. There was an automatic ice machine—surely a recent addition—a small sink, a
stack of perfect white linen towels and a cutting board. Edith Aldridge was prepared to entertain but she never did. Was it fear that kept her from it? For a moment I forgot my questions about her and was filled with sympathy.
Beyond me, I could hear the girls chattering, so I called, “Hello” to announce my arrival.
“Aunt Kate, we are having more fun. Lucy let us cut some cookies out of dough ourselves and now we’re decorating them. Here, I saved the prettiest one for you.” Sweet little Jess handed me a cookie shaped like a rose and decorated with two shades of red and pink icing. It was a sugar cookie with orange flavoring, delicious!
“Hello, Miss Kate. I’m Lucy, and I’ve heard a lot about you.” She carefully rinsed the flour off her hands, dried them, and then held her hand out in a welcoming handshake.
“It’s good to meet you, Lucy. I’ve enjoyed your teatime treats, especially the smoked salmon.”
“It’s special, isn’t it? Missus gets it flown in from the Northwest.” She looked at the girls. “Fine pair of nieces you have here. I’d love to have them come back sometime. Maybe we could make a cake.”
Even Ava, who’d grown too sophisticated lately, seemed interested in that idea.
“Lucy, pardon my inquisitiveness, but do you stay here every night?”
“No, ma’am. I have a husband and children of my own, grown though they might be. I go home every night after serving the missus her dinner, but I’m back by seven in the morning. I take Sundays off so I can see that my brood go to church.”
An irrelevant question hit me. “Does she eat at that dining table?”
“Yes, miss. Just as though there were guests, and I serve a formal meal.”
How sad!
“One more question, if you don’t mind. Is John L. your brother?”
She laughed aloud. “That man? No way, miss. He’s a good sort, he is—makes the lawns look good and takes good care of the birds and rabbits, but he’s no kin of mine.”
Another puzzle.
The girls fixed on another fact. “Rabbits?” they squealed almost in unison.
“We want to see,” Ava said.
“No, ladies. You’ll have to wait until John L. is here. The rabbits are his responsibility, unless one ends up in my kitchen for rabbit stew.”
She said it matter-of-factly, but even I was taken aback, and Jess looked like she might cry. In fact, I could see tears inching down her cheeks. For us, rabbits were cute cuddly pets; in this household, they were a food source, like cattle and hogs. I wasn’t going to make that comparison to Jess and Ava, but it told me a lot.
“Come on, girls. Time to thank Lucy and get out of her hair. David will be ready to go.”
We went back to the parlor, thanked Edith and said our good-byes, assuring her she was safe, and left as quickly as we could. The minute we were in the car, David announced, “It’s not dinnertime I’m ready for. It’s a drink.”
Jess piped up with, “Who was that man standing in the trees watching us as we drove away?”
David asked, “What man?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
Ava’s look clearly said she thought her sister had made the story up, but I took it far more seriously. David tried to drag details out of her, but she simply couldn’t describe him except to say he had one of those things that you look through and see things up close. I never said that I’d seen the man too. It was Rodney. I just filed that fact away in my mind. No reason to scare Jess any more than she was already.
“I thought it was like that whole place—creepy. I don’t want to go back, even to make a chocolate cake.” Jess’ pronouncement had an air of finality about it, and I knew she would not be going back to Peacock Mansion.
Ava made a face at her, and at the same time David made a face at me. They were different faces entirely. Ava’s was one of scorn. David’s was one of alarm and concern. I shared his feelings, but we couldn’t talk in front of the girls, and I couldn’t tell him I recognized Rodney. So I tried to make light of it.
“Maybe he’s a bird watcher.”
“Or maybe he shoots peacocks with a bow and arrow,” Ava responded.
Big help. Jess gave her sister a dirty look and moved as though to punch her.
“Don’t hit me, little sister, or you’ll be sorry.”
“Girls, shall I take us home instead of to Tyler? I won’t take quarreling sisters to a nice restaurant.”
They chorused “no,” and by the time we reached the outskirts of Tyler, the incident—and the man—had been forgotten. Except I hadn’t forgotten.
Chapter Eleven
The girls were primly proper when the waiter seated us and whisked napkins onto their laps. They studied the menu carefully, until David teasingly asked, “Who wants to join me for escargot?”
“What’s that?” Ava asked.
“Snails,” I told her, and she made a face.
They decided on shrimp cocktail, which was pretty adventuresome for them. David did order escargot, and I chose the smoked salmon carpaccio. David ordered wine for us—white because he knew that was what I liked, in spite of the truth that red would have gone better with the grilled duck breast he ordered. I had splurged and asked for lobster; the girls agreed to split the pasta of the day—which was linguini with an Alfredo sauce. David ordered Shirley Temples for them, but Ava was a bit downcast.
“Couldn’t I have a wine spritzer?”
I assured her she could not, but I also realized David had to stop thinking of her as a little girl. And so did I.
We were midway through our appetizers when the maître d’ showed two women to a table on the other side of the restaurant. I gaped so long that David surreptitiously poked me.
“Earth to Kate. What do you see?”
“Mrs. Middleton.”
“Oh, good. That clears everything up. Thanks.”
Ava contributed, “She’s mom’s guest at the B&B. She and that snotty daughter of hers.”
“Ava!”
“I don’t care, Aunt Kate. She is snotty and all stuck up just because she’s four or five years older than I am.”
I gathered there’d been a social rebuff somewhere along the way.
David turned, without too much subtlety, and stared. “I can see why you thought she might be Rose Mitchum. Same type—rich lady from Highland Park or someplace similar. Odd that she’s in Wheeler.”
“Isn’t it?” I tried but couldn’t tell what they ordered, not that it would have helped me much. I did see that the daughter still seemed bored, and I thought maybe Ava was right in her assessment, even if she shouldn’t have said it.
Our dinners were as good as I expected. I shared bites of lobster with the girls—Ava said she didn’t like the texture, but Jess liked it, especially when I dipped it into the melted butter. For dessert, we all had parfaits.
And then we were on our way home in a silent car. Everyone was too full and tired to talk. We left Mrs. Middleton and her daughter behind, except that I remembered Donna told me she had recommended Currents to them.
I dropped David and the girls off at the house so I could go back to the Blue Plate to close and pick up the cash and receipts.
“Hate to have you walk across that meadow alone after dark.”
“David, I’ll be fine. I do it every night.”
“I know. Maybe it’s just been a funny day.”
“I’ll see you shortly.” I closed the car door and crossed the open area to the café. The high heels didn’t help at all. It rained during the night the day before, and the ground was soft. My heels sank into it, and I came close to falling. Finally, I dug out my cell phone and turned on its flashlight, focused on the ground in front of me so I didn’t misstep. I didn’t look up until I got close to the back door to the café and the motion detector light went on.
A few customers lingered, and a young waitress named Sallie was wiping down the empty tables and collecting condiments, getting ready to close. I set about helping her but then
had to stop to check out a longtime customer.
“Looking mighty fancy, Miss Kate. High heels and all.”
“Thanks, Mr. Sumner. I’ve been to Tyler for dinner. I couldn’t work all day in shoes like this. I’m afraid you’d see me barefoot.”
He laughed, and I counted out his change.
When the restaurant was empty and Sallie had gone on her way, I put the receipts and cash in my bank bag and then took paper and pen and made a list of the things that had puzzled me today:
Edith Aldridge said she never heard from the children; Rodney said they were close.
How did she know they were in the area if she didn’t hear from them?
How did Steven Connell fit into things? Why was Edith in touch with him, when David hired him? How much does David trust him?
Why was Rodney in the bushes at the mansion? I thought I knew the answer to that one: he was spying. But on Edith or on us?
Why hadn’t Steven reported on Rose’s whereabouts? If she lived in Highland Park, that should be easy to verify.
Edith Aldridge seems contradictory in her attitude toward her stepchildren.
I sat so long pondering this list that I was afraid David would worry, so I stuffed the paper in the bag, turned out the lights, locked the front door, and slipped out the back door, locking it behind me. Grateful that I’d installed a motion detector light out there I headed home across the great open space. Something made me want to run, but the high heels prevented that, and it seemed to take forever to reach the gate, my way lit only by my phone flashlight.
The motion detector light outside the back door came on, and David stood there watching for me.
Wait! That’s not David. No crutches, a ski mask, not his familiar face. This man was heavier and not quite as tall.
I screamed with all the power I could muster and kept screaming. The moneybag flew in one direction, the cell phone in another, and my heels tripped me up so that I went splat on my rear end. My first thought was if the man wanted the day’s take, he was welcome to it. For a moment, stunned, I simply sat there awaiting my fate.
