by CeeCee James
One of the women raised her hand. “When you called this meeting we thought some other important things were going to be discussed. Like our jobs.”
Marguerite straightened up. “You know we don’t have the answers to that. I am assuming Miss Janice will continue to make do like she always does.”
“And what about the ghost? I hear him, I swear!” Janet stared at Marguerite, her eyes wide with sincerity. “At night when I’m in my bed. He’s in the walls. It’s Mr. Thornberry, and he’s looking for his treasure.”
The room quieted down but now several of the women were nodding. All stared expectantly at Marguerite.
The head housekeeper waved her hand. “Oh, pooh. You know those wall noises are from our own mascot, Hank. He keeps this place clean of rodents, and you should thank him very kindly. Anything else is simply this old house’s creaking knees and joints, and your own imaginations.”
She leaned forward on the desk and folded her hands. “However, I won’t deny there’s been some strange going-ons around here. Secrets no house should ever keep. And now we won’t.”
Lucy shivered. Even I felt goosebumps, and I knew the story.
Marguerite sighed. “The estate has concealed a terrible thing for the last seven years. We can keep it no longer, not as it is.”
Rising to her feet, Marguerite’s face became the epitome of sorrow and long suffering. “Many years ago, Barbara had an illicit affair. Her husband had died, and I assume she was swayed by the loneliness and need for company that I’ve heard strikes some. She became pregnant, a late-life surprise. ”
“You’d need company, too, if you weren’t such a wet hen,” Cook grumbled.
Marguerite scowled at her and then resumed her woeful expression. “Of course, we all know how Miss Janice feels about children. Barbara, Cook, and I came up with a plan. With Barbara’s home so far away, and Stephen there to tend the baby during work hours, we schemed a way that would allow her to bring the child home. We would hide her. When she returned, everything went as planned. None of us saw so much as a hair of the child, unless we snuck over some food to the cottage. But as kids often do, the little girl had her brother’s curiosity and soon began to wander. Stephen and Barbara did their best to keep her reigned in. Still, that is why we spread the rumors of a ghost.”
“Terrible thing to do.” Janet scowled.
“It was our only way to keep questions from being asked, should someone spot her bobbling about on the property. Eventually our worst nightmare happened, and Mr. Thornberry discovered her one day,” Marguerite answered.
“Gave him quite the start, it did,” said Cook. “Caused his ticker to do a jig.”
“Luckily for all involved, the two of them became fast friends. Barbara was pleased to see her child be accepted by Mr. Thornberry, and they spent many a pleasant evening together. I heard rumors that they played chess together at times.” Marguerite smiled.
Cook broke in, her voice earnest. “Of course, none of their secret nights went unnoticed by Miss Janice.”
The head housekeeper released a long exhale. Her gaze landed on Cook before cutting away. She continued, “It was quite unfair to Miss Janice. However, her extreme dislike of children caused all of us an impossible situation in which to tell her. And so her jealousy continued to flame.”
“Not at all helped when Mr. Thornberry went for the auction for the royal crown.” Cook nodded.
“No. Definitely not.” Marguerite agreed.
“Imagine the shock!” Cook continued, her eyes wide as she stared at us. “The entire fortune spent on it, and the missus not even able to see it! I don’t know how Miss Janice tolerated that.”
Marguerite took a sip from her cup. Casually, she set it back down. “She did it by doing what we all do. Seeing the other woman as the enemy. From that point on she made Barbara’s life miserable. She accused the woman of trying to get her husband’s fortune, especially since the lawyer neighbor had been over recently.”
“And I bet this is when Mark decided to steal the crown,” I chimed in. “He saw an opportunity with their strife. He knew Barbara usurped his relationship with Mr. Thornberry and so fanned the flames of Miss Janice’s hatred toward her.”
Cook snorted. “More like dumped gasoline on them. Mark told Miss Janice that he’d seen Barbara and Mr. Thornberry canoodling. At the same time, Mr. Thornberry began making hints that he’d made a new will. I remember the day. ‘In the books!’ he’d told her. ‘You’ll find my inheritance in the books.’ I swear I’d never seen Miss Janice so angry.”
Marguerite’s face wore a particularly pained expression of trying to corral a roomful of toddlers. She tried again to finish her story. “It was that week she told us to burn the books She also forced Barbara to leave. Wouldn’t hear no arguments about—”
Cook interrupted. “Such a terrible time. She told Barbara if she set foot on the property again she’d have her arrested for conspiring and embezzlement. Can we blame her for leaving? None of us knew what to do but to hide the books as fast as we could.”
Marguerite stared hard at Cook, who managed to ignore her by nibbling on a cookie. Sighing, the head housekeeper persevered, “Mark then convinced Miss Janice that he had a friend who could help, someone with an education in nutrition. This person, he promised, would clear Mr. Thornberry’s head and get her husband back to sound thinking. I’m sure Miss Janice felt desperate after the crown fiasco because she grabbed the hope offered with both hands. And so Georgia, Mark’s girlfriend, was brought in.”
“In the meantime, we continued to hide the child,” Cook said, smugly.
At that moment, there was a hard knock on the secret book club door. Every single one of us froze. Marguerite’s face drained white, and Cook clutched her cookie to her chest.
It had happened. Miss Janice had finally caught us.
“Well,” Marguerite visibly swallowed. “Go open the door then.”
“Me?” snapped Cook. “It’s your room!”
“Technically, this part is not,” spoke Marguerite. But she wearily started for the door. As she neared, the sharp knock came again. She flinched, then straightened her shoulders and yanked open the door.
Butler stood there, looking disheveled in pajama bottoms with his suit jacket over the top. “Marguerite. The police are here.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The resulting chaos of a large group of women trying to squeeze through the narrow opening brought more than a few squeals of, “That’s my foot you’re stepping on,” along with, “Heaven help us. Who’s to wake Miss Janice?”
The sounds we made as we clattered down the stairs to the waiting police officers below should have answered that. I felt positive not a person alive could sleep through that commotion.
It turned out I was right, because once we were all assembled at the bottom, her sharp voice rang out from the landing, “What’s the meaning of all of this?”
We stared up. Like a queen, Miss Janice slowly descended the stairs, her feet slippered inside two fluffy mules, all the while shooting us icy glares. She wrapped her silk robe around her thin waist tighter as she walked over to the police officer in charge. Four-foot-eleven meant nothing the way her fury emanated through her eyes.
Officer Mario reached his hand out in the way one would ward off an approaching bear. “Now, now, Mrs. Thornberry. We were summoned here this evening.” He glanced at his cousin, Lucy. “You have some evidence?”
I answered for her. “Be right back!”
Leaving the group to stare behind me, I bounded up to Marguerite’s room. I was puffing a bit when I arrived, but I managed to snag the two wrapped cups from the book club before making a quick stop at my room for the envelope in the cupboard. Carefully, I juggled them all as I raced downstairs to the waiting crowd.
They certainly weren’t a silent audience. Miss Janice held her hands on her hips while Marguerite tried to explain the situation. Cook stood next to the housekeeper’s right shoulder, like a charmin
g parrot, piping in every now and again with, “Yes, that’s right!” and “It’s true, ma’am!”
I waited patiently while Miss Janice got caught up on our detective work, with the police leaning in and listening with interest. Then I produced my coup de grâce. “Here they are! The teacups!”
Officer Mario accepted them gingerly, and his gaze lighted on the envelope in my hand.
“This is the tea I found in the cupboard of what was once Georgia’s room,” I offered.
Cook took a peek inside before firmly nodding. “That’s correct. I saw Georgia make it just that way.”
It was then that Butler cleared his throat. “I saw the young nutritionist the morning that Mark died. She was on the other side of the gate.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Officer Mario.
“My vision, sir.” He pulled out a pair of glasses from his front pocket. “I thought I was seeing a ghost. She’d been gone over a year. I simply didn’t trust my eyes.”
“I think there’s someone else who saw her as well,” Mary chimed in. “Our neighbor up the street. Mr. Eland. Both Mrs. Fitzwater saw him and his housekeeper can verify that. And it seems he returned to his house quite shaken.”
“What’s your theory on why Georgia would kill him?” Officer Mario asked Marguerite.
She puffed like the prized hen. “We think those two scoundrels had a plan to steal Mr. Thornberry’s crown. Mark searched for a while until Barbara clued Mr. Thornberry into it. Mark couldn’t have that, so he had Barbara fired and Georgia brought in. She drugged Mr. Thornberry to get him to be compliant, but it seems one night, she went too far and poisoned him. Mark felt horrific guilt. I saw it with my own eyes. They broke up just a day later, and I believe that’s the reason he hung on to the evidence. He must have threatened her, because Georgia left soon after. And I believe just the other day she texted him to see if they could talk. She met him at the gate, and killed him to be rid of the threat, once and for all.”
“She took the car keys too?” Cook asked confused.
Marguerite huffed as though the very idea were ridiculous. “It only makes sense that Mr. Eland took the keys. He obviously saw everything and it seems he wanted to make the scene look suspicious so the police would investigate.” Marguerite cleared her throat. “The next evening, we had a dinner party. I caught him wandering out by the music room. I’m convinced it was then that he threw the keys under the sofa.”
“Do you have those too?” Officer Mario asked.
“Follow me, sir.” Cook led the officer into the kitchen. When they returned the keys were in a baggy.
Officer Mario turned toward the group of us and held up the bag. “They’ve been handled but we might still be able to find an identifiable print on the metallic key fob.” He smiled then. “That is if we can’t persuade the neighbor to confess first.”
The evening closed with the police taking our statements. Officer Mario said they’d return soon, leaving us with the belief that they were on their way to visit both of the neighbors for their statements.
And then they left, leaving a foyer full of a bunch of uneasy cold women along with Butler. It seemed none of us had any idea of what the next step should be. After all, it was no easy feat to hop back in bed after all the excitement that had just happened.
But, I couldn’t let anyone go to bed, yet. I still had one more secret up my sleeve.
“If everyone can wait here, I have something very important to show you all,” I announced.
Then, once again, I jogged up to my room. These stairs were tiring me out. This time I brought down Barbara’s button box.
I carried the box to the front of the room where Miss Janice watched me suspiciously until her curiosity took over. I stood before her with what might be the royal crown in my hands, both of us in pajamas and a dressing gown.
“What is it you have?” Her bird-like gaze jetted from the box to my face.
I tried to swallow and instead, offered the box.
Mary gave an abridged explanation of where we found it. Miss Janice had no reaction at the mention of a secret garden. Her eyes were locked on the box. The room seemed devoid of air for one second as we waited for her reaction.
Then she smiled at us, as fleeting as a raindrop. Her hand rose to her neck. “It seems I might have a part in this, after all.” She rummaged under the neckline of her night gown and eventually pulled out a glittery chain. The gold links shone in the overhead chandelier light. Marguerite and Cook both leaned forward at the same time, nearly bumping heads.
“Well, I’ll be,” breathed the housekeeper.
“It’s a key!” exclaimed Cook.
“Henry bought this for me a few years ago. When he was off on one of his treasure hunts. I wonder….” She took the box. Her hand trembled as she held out the key. Then, like a sharp little sword, she stabbed it into the lock and turned.
There was a loud click. The lid cracked opened with a shower of dirt.
Green velvet lined the interior of the box. Nestled inside, and bedecked with every known color of jewel, sat the crown.
Cook gasped at the impressive sight. Even after all this time, the gold glowed like something alive. Delicate filigree onto which sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and even diamonds clung like berries on a branch.
I didn’t gasp. Instead, I squeaked. It was unbelievable.
Miss Janice gently lifted it out, and still we stared. It was almost a greater shock when she raised it and placed it on her head. Her smile changed then, softened and became childlike. She walked over to the mirror. “It’s lovely and so light. I can’t believe it’s been here all this time.”
Marguerite cleared her throat. “There’s a note inside, ma’am.”
Miss Janice gently removed the crown. “Let me see.”
The housekeeper plucked out the envelope and handed it over. Miss Janice returned the crown and carried the letter to her small secretary for an envelope opener. The silver blade flashed, and the note was freed.
Silently, Miss Janice read it. After a moment, her eyes filled with tears, and she covered her face.
Mary and I glanced at each other.
“My dear Janice,” Miss Janice read, her voice quavering.
“There are so many things I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I fear time is running out. If you read this note then that means I’ve gone.
I don’t trust Georgia, but I fear the end is inevitable. Still, I have evidence of her doing something awful. I’ve hidden a few things in my study, as you’ve discovered by finding my map.
I’ve never had good luck since I came into contact with this crown. Please sell it and do what I never did. What I should have done from the beginning. Restore the house.
You have put up with more than any woman should. Thank you for loving me. I have always loved you.
Until we meet again, on the clouds beneath the sun,
Your ever loving husband,
Henry.”
I went with my instincts and hugged the poor woman. Miss Janice clung to me for a moment as her tears dampened my cheek. Then she straightened and grabbed back at her control. “Right. We will figure this out once and for all and hold his killer responsible.” And then she turned to Cook. “I think this calls for a celebration. Break out the cookies and cocoa.”
The next morning we all stumbled about, groggy and half awake. Luckily, Miss Janice was so pleased with the crown, her temperament remained both mellow and undemanding.
An undercurrent of concern ran through all of us. We all knew that, although both Cook and Miss Janice could attest to the fact those were the mugs Georgia had served nightly to Mr. Thornberry, it wasn’t proof it had been the nutritionist who had actually put poison in the cup.
So, when Marguerite announced Miss Janice had received a phone call, we all raced down to the sitting room like a pack of dogs being called to dinner. The air felt electrified as we listened.
“Uh, huh.” Miss Janice licked her bottom lip. “
I see. Yes. Yes.” She paused. “Oh, is that so? Well, thank you Officer Jefferson.” She hung up and looked at us, her eyebrows raised and mouth set primly.
Finally Cook couldn’t stand it. “Well, ma’am?”
Miss Janice smiled. “Not only were the police able to get fingerprints off the key chain, they recovered them from the teacups and the teabags in the envelope as well. And every one of those sachets, as well as the dry dregs in the cups, had been laced with poison.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” clapped Marguerite. Too late, she turned a horrified face toward Miss Janice at the way the words sounded.
“Yes. Well, not ideal to find out one’s husband has been murdered. But it helps a great deal to know that one’s worst fears weren’t realized. The letter he wrote to me is truly the most precious inheritance he could have ever left.” Her eyes grew a little misty, and she dabbed at them with a napkin.
“He loved you, ma’am,” the housekeeper said soothingly.
“Well, no more of that.” Miss Janice waved Marguerite’s sentiment away. “In other news, our great neighbor Richard Eland has more than cooperated with the police. He did indeed see Georgia stop the car. Mark rolled down the window and then Georgia lean in for the kiss. She held what Richard thought at the time was a knife but turned out to be a syringe. And Richard watched the car drive off the road. Georgia climbed in her own car and left before he could do anything about it. He raced to check on Mark and was horrified to discover him dead, so he took the keys, hoping to spur an investigation. In his guilt and confusion, he confessed he talked with Jack, his gym trainer about what happened. Together they came up with the plan that he would toss the keys back in the house, and continue to keep an eye out for Georgia.”
“Why didn’t he just call the police?” asked Jessie. I thought it was a very good question.
“He was afraid his phone would be traced. Fortunately, it seems Barbara has been keeping tabs on the woman, and the police are on their way to apprehend her now.”
