Miss Julia Renews Her Vows

by Ann B. Ross

  “Well, call her up,” Lillian said. “See if that lieutenant been after her again.”

  “I think I will.” So I did, and stood there listening to the phone ring and ring with no one answering. “She’s not at home. Maybe she’s out interviewing somewhere.”

  “Call her on that cell phone she got,” Lillian said. “The number right there on that notepad.”

  “Oh, of course. I should’ve thought of that.” But that number, too, rang and rang, and finally I had to leave a message. “Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

  “You think of something, sooner or later,” Lillian said. “You always do.”

  “Well, come to think of it, I just have. I think I’ll go visit Francie.”

  Lillian turned from the sink to stare at me. “What for?”

  “I want to see her bedroom—the crime scene, Lillian, and she should be home from the hospital by now. And I want to meet that Evelyn, who seems awfully mysterious to me.”

  “What you mean ‘mysterious’? You think she know something?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that she’s been in the background of all this, and who’s ever seen her? I certainly haven’t. All I’ve heard is that she’s old and frail, although those two don’t always go together, and that she’s worked for Francie for a long time and that she knows how to dial nine-one-one, and that’s it.” I looked around for my pocketbook. “Anyway, it’ll give me something to do. I’ll be back by lunchtime.”

  Thinking that it would be better to have an accomplice when visiting Francie, I called LuAnne and asked if she’d go with me.

  “Oh, I’d love to,” she said. “I want to see where she lives and what she has. If her house is anything like the clothes she wears, it’ll be a sight. But I can’t, Julia. Leonard has a doctor’s appointment—just a checkup—and I have to go with him. You know how he is.”

  Well, yes, I did, but I knew how LuAnne was, too. She didn’t think Leonard could do anything alone, and by this time, he didn’t think so, either. So, getting Francie’s address from LuAnne, I took myself off to get the lay of the land.

  Driving across town toward Francie’s cottage, I detoured a little way to pick up a ready-made fruit basket from the grocery store. It’s always nice to have something in hand when calling on someone, especially when dropping in with no prior notice, as I was doing.

  I slowed the car and crept past the gatehouse at the entrance to the grounds of Mountain Villas, nodding at the gatekeeper, who did not question my passing. Hm-m, I thought, they have a modicum of security, but it looks as if anybody can just cruise on in. Maybe that’s the way Francie’s attacker gained admittance.

  Obeying the fifteen-mile-per-hour speed signs, I followed the twisting road, reading the side-street names as I went along. Finally, seeing Woodchuck Lane, I turned in, passed a couple of small dark-stained cottages with lots of windows and started to pull to the curb at number eight.

  At the sight of a certain familiar car in the driveway, I was so aghast that I let the car jump the curb and come to within an inch of hitting a scrawny Japanese maple.

  Jumping out of the car, I ran up the walk and rang the doorbell. Sure enough, my worst fear was confirmed when she answered the door.

  “Etta Mae!” I cried, taking in her green scrub suit and white walking shoes. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “Oh, Miss Julia,” Etta Mae Wiggins said, looking somewhat abashed. “Well, I guess I’m working for Mrs. Delacorte. But come on in. I know she’ll want to see you. I just got her settled on the sunporch.”

  Etta Mae stepped back, holding the door wide for me. I walked inside the small dark hall and just stared at her. “What are you doing? Why’re you here? Don’t you know you ought to keep your distance? What’s Lieutenant Peavey going to think?”

  “Well, I just didn’t know what else to do. She called me last night and begged me to help her out, and I know she’s had a hard time and, well, I need the work. It’s just till Hazel Marie gets home.”

  “Lord,” I said, my eyes rolling back so far it almost gave me a headache. “Etta Mae, you are too good for your own good. But,” I went on, as I considered the situation, “maybe this will work to your benefit. It’ll certainly show the lieutenant that Francie’s not afraid of you, and I think it’ll undercut any accusation she’s made. Although I don’t know how you can stand it after all she’s said about you.”

  At that point, a querulous voice called, “Who is it? Etta Mae, who’s at the door? Where are you?”

  Etta Mae gave me a quick grin, took the fruit basket from me and whispered, “I don’t know how I stand it, either.” Then she motioned me to follow her down the hall, past a living room filled with dark, heavy Italianate furniture, into a sunroom, where Francie was ensconced in an easy chair with her gouty foot elevated on a footstool. Noticing the fancy walking stick leaning against the arm of the chair, I wondered whether it could’ve been the attack weapon. So handy, you know. And since it had gone to the hospital with Francie, maybe no one had thought to test it. But no, a slender cane wouldn’t have caused a large flat injury such as the one Francie had suffered, so I quickly, but reluctantly, discarded that idea.

  “Look who’s come to visit,” Etta Mae said cheerily. “It’s Miss Julia Murdoch, and she’s brought you some fruit.”

  “Hello, Francie,” I said, eyeing her face for signs of a cosmetic surgeon’s knife. “How’re you feeling now that you’re home?”

  “Oh, don’t ask,” Francie moaned, swinging her head from side to side, drawing my attention to the fact that instead of a bandage, she was now wearing a green and gold turban that hid both hair and whatever wound she had. “You wouldn’t believe how uncomfortable the ambulance was. And did you know those nurses didn’t even want to call one for me? Said I could ride in a car, but I guess I know what’s best for me. Have a seat, Julia, and take my mind off my problems for a little while. Etta Mae,” she said without even looking at her, “put that fruit up. I’m not sure I can eat any of it. I have to be so careful of my diet, you know.”

  Murmuring, “Yes, ma’am,” Etta Mae left.

  I took a seat across from Francie with my back to the windows where the sun was streaming in. Deciding to jump right in, I said, “Francie, I’ll have to say that I’m amazed that you’ve hired Miss Wiggins again. Didn’t you tell Lieutenant Peavey that she’s the one who attacked you?”

  “Yes, and stole my bracelet, too. But Julia, you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get help these days. And I’m not even talking about good help. Just help, period. Besides, I’m perfectly safe as long as Evelyn’s here. She won’t get away with another crime, believe you me.”

  “Well, it just seems strange to me, and I’m wondering if you’re having second thoughts. It could’ve been a stranger, because you know that anybody can just drive right through the gate and go anywhere they want.”

  “No, no, Julia,” Francie said, waving her hand. “Don’t confuse me. I know what I smelled, and it was her. But see, having her here now, I can watch her, and so can Evelyn. Better the enemy you can see than the one you can’t.”

  Well, that might work for Francie, but I couldn’t see that it did anything for Etta Mae. All she was doing was putting herself in a position to be accused of something else, and I determined then and there to get Etta Mae out of the line of fire. I would simply advance the calendar some few months and go ahead and employ her for Hazel Marie’s benefit. After all, who knew when those babies would arrive? I certainly didn’t. For all I knew, they could be here any day.

  Chapter 27

  Pursuant to that intention, I said, “Francie, I hope Miss Wiggins has told you that she’s already booked for this weekend and for some time to come. Hazel Marie and her new husband will be back, and Hazel Marie is suffering through a high-risk condition. She’ll need constant nursing care, and Miss Wiggins has promised to be there for her. They’re longtime friends, you know.”

  “Who’s Hazel Marie?”<
br />
  “Oh, I forgot that you weren’t here through all my trials and tribulations. Well, Hazel Marie is a dear friend of mine, and she and her son have been living with me for some time now.”

  Francie’s eyes glinted with a little interest in something outside of herself. “That’s the one that Wesley Lloyd Springer kept all those years, isn’t it? I always wondered how you put up with it.”

  Stung, I shot back, “I didn’t know about it, that’s how I put up with it. But it seems that you knew, so why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Oh,” Francie said, with an airy titter, as if the most hurtful event of my life were of no importance. “I don’t interfere in other people’s business. I assumed you knew. Everybody else did. But I don’t understand why you’d be so concerned about the welfare of a tramp like that.”

  I could feel the blood pounding in my head, so enraged that I could’ve taken up that walking cane and whacked her across the head. Holding myself in, I managed to say, “First off, she is not a tramp, and second off, you don’t need to understand. At least Hazel Marie hasn’t had serial husbands like somebody I could name.”

  “Oh, Julia,” Francie said, her face screwing up to cry, but not quite managing it. “How could you throw that in my face? I have been grieving for ten years, even longer, and you don’t know what it’s like to lose a husband.”

  “Well, I certainly do. I lost one myself.” Of course, losing Wesley Lloyd had not exactly thrown me into paroxysms of grief. Nor, as far as I could tell, had Francie suffered excessively from her series of losses. Or if she had, she’d certainly found solace quickly enough.

  “But,” I said, bringing my temper under control, “that’s neither here nor there. The thing of it is, Miss Wiggins has promised to work for us, and because I haven’t been well myself and, in fact, got out of my sickbed to visit you at the hospital, I can’t wait for the weekend. I need her to come on today. And, of course, there’s no telling when, or if, she’ll be able to come back to you.” Right then, I decided that I’d better delay telling Sam anything. If Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens extended their honeymoon, I would have to prepare myself for another sickly spell this weekend in order to keep Etta Mae at least through Monday evening, when the second enriching session would be held.

  “Well, I don’t know how I’ll get along without her,” Francie whined. “I’m not well, Julia, and I need her more than you do. You’ve got Lillian, so you can manage perfectly well.”

  “But,” I pointed out, “you have Evelyn, so it’s not as if you’d be alone. And there’s all this assisted-living help you could have if you’d just call on them. That’s what this retirement place is for, isn’t it?”

  By this time, Francie was squeezing out a few tears and searching the pockets of her voluminous robe for Kleenex. “That’s what they say,” she said, dabbing at her eyes, “but they don’t suit me. I hope you’ll pray about this, Julia, and find it in your heart to help a poor, lonely woman who can hardly get from one place to the other.”

  “I will pray about it, Francie, but I can tell you right now that Miss Wiggins will honor her commitment to me and to Hazel Marie. She wouldn’t be worth having if she didn’t, and I’d be surprised if you’d still want her. So under these circumstances, you’ll have to make other arrangements. And no amount of prayer is going to change my mind.”

  “Well!” Francie said, discarding her Kleenex on the floor and clenching the chair arms with both hands. “I’ve just never known you to be so snippy and uncaring. I can’t believe you, Julia. I thought you were a more considerate person than this. Call Etta Mae in here and we’ll just see. Get her in here right now.”

  My temper flaring again at being given orders, I rose nonetheless and walked to the door leading to the kitchen. Etta Mae was standing by the counter, preparing a luncheon tray. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the stooped back of another woman, short and thin, with her head swathed in a turban of some kind—one of Francie’s castoffs, from the look of it. She was clad in a loose dress of nondescript color.

  Evelyn, I assumed, but because she didn’t turn from whatever she was doing, I stood at the door and gestured to Etta Mae. “Mrs. Delacorte wants you.”

  As Etta Mae came toward me, I whispered, “Follow my lead. I’m getting you out of here.”

  Her eyes widened, then they darted over my shoulder as we heard another of Francie’s peremptory commands to come right there. We crossed the room together and stood before the queen.

  “Etta Mae,” Francie said, glaring at her, “I hear that you’ve taken another job, and that you’re leaving me high and dry. I guess you know that I’ll have to dock your pay for noncompliance if you leave before I’m ready for you to go.”

  Etta Mae’s face went white. “Well, uh, no ma’am. I—”

  “Hazel Marie will be home any time now,” I quickly spoke over her. “And you promised to take care of her, remember? You did, didn’t you?”

  “Yes’m, I did, and I want to. I just didn’t know if she’d still need me.”

  “She’ll need you, believe me. I’d like you to come on now and get things ready for her. Francie,” I went on, turning to her, “Hazel Marie is carrying twins, and she’s having a bad time of it. She needs experienced help, which neither Lillian nor I can give her. I hope you’ll reconsider your threat, because . . .” I had to stop as a white haze of anger descended on me. “Because if you don’t pay Etta Mae what you owe her, she’ll go directly to her attorney of record and sue you up one side and down the other. Won’t you, Etta Mae?”

  “Yes’m, I guess.” Etta Mae was trembling beside me. She did not like confrontations, but then neither did I. But sometimes you have to stand up for what is right, and that’s exactly what I was doing.

  Unaccustomed as she was to not getting her way, Francie really let the tears begin to flow. “You’re ganging up on me, both of you, threatening me with lawsuits and abandonment. I’ll pay you, Etta Mae, you know I will. But I just got home from the hospital, and I’ve suffered great physical and mental trauma, and I need you. Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just stay with me.”

  Obviously affected by Francie’s pitiful plea, Etta Mae looked beseechingly at me, then said, “I can probably stay until Hazel Marie gets home, but really, Mrs. Delacorte, I promised my friend to be there for her.”

  “Well,” Francie said, dabbing at her eyes, “I guess I’ll have to be grateful for that. But you think about it, and if you decide to stay with me, you won’t regret it. Julia, why don’t you see if you can find somebody else for your friend? At least she has a husband, so she’s not alone and helpless like I am.”

  I raised my eyes to heaven because Francie Pitts Delacorte was the least helpless person I knew. She knew how to play upon tender hearts, and Etta Mae Wiggins had one of the tenderest. I could see the sympathy wash over Etta Mae’s face, and I knew how deeply she felt obligated to her patients. All very commendable, except for the fact that Francie was taking advantage of those very qualities.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t immune to Francie’s pleas, either. “All right,” I said, “let’s leave it at this. Etta Mae, if you insist on staying, then so be it. But when Hazel Marie gets home, we’re going to hold you to your promise and expect you right away. And Francie, you’ll have to do the best you can. I’m sorry about that, but you do have access to help right here at Mountain Villas. Well,” I went on, turning away, “I must be going. I hope you continue to feel better. Call me if you need anything.”

  That last was said out of habit and good manners, not because I meant it. “Etta Mae,” I said, walking away before Francie could get in the last word, “walk me to the door, if you don’t mind.”

  With a nervous glance at Francie, who was staring sullenly at us, Etta Mae followed me out of the room and down the hall to the front door.

  “Now listen,” I said, as Etta Mae reached around me to open the door, “come by my house as soon as you get off. We need to talk abo
ut this. And one more thing, do not, I repeat, do not let yourself be out of Francie or Evelyn’s sight for even a minute. I don’t trust Francie Pitts as far as I can throw her, and she could very well accuse you of something else if you’re off by yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m already staying close to either her or Evelyn. And Miss Julia, you know I wouldn’t drop Hazel Marie for anything. Mrs. Delacorte didn’t tell you, but she already knew I’d have to leave when Hazel Marie gets home, because I told her when she called me.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “That woman! Just be careful, Etta Mae. There’s no telling what she might do if she doesn’t get her way. Why, I think she’d feel perfectly justified to get you in trouble again just to punish you.”

  “You think?” A deeply worried look creased Etta Mae’s face, as she looked down the hall toward the sunroom.

  “Yes, and that’s why I want you out of here as soon as possible. You’re walking a thin line with Lieutenant Peavey already, although Francie’s rehiring you ought to make him reconsider a few things. But before I go, where’s Francie’s bedroom? Do we have time for me to take a quick look?”

  “It’s right there behind you.” Etta Mae pointed to the first door on the right.

  I tiptoed over, pushed the door open a little wider and peeked in. It was a front room, the windows looking out over the yard. In the middle stood a stately canopied bed covered in a floral print both above and below. The same floral fabric draped the windows with side panels and elaborately pleated valances. Tables with large porcelain lamps on them flanked the bed, and a dressing table covered with bottles and flasks and jars stood across the room. A deep pile carpet covered the floor.

  “Hurry, Miss Julia,” Etta Mae whispered. “She pretends she can’t get around, but she can.”

  “I’m through.” I turned back to the front door and started out. “I just wanted to see the crime scene. And I wanted to meet Evelyn, too. Where’d she get to?”