A Hard Bargain

by Jane Tesh

  “Yes, it’s poison. Digitalis, as a matter of fact.”

  “Undetected in soda?”

  “Yes. Very toxic. Between seven drops and one teaspoon is a lethal dose. Has something happened to Kirby Willet?”

  “I still haven’t found him, but Josh Gaskins, the director of ‘Curse of the Mantis Man,’ was murdered last night. He may have been poisoned by that substance.”

  “You think Willet may be the culprit?”

  “He’s on my list. A lot of people were angry with Gaskins, though, including a friend of mine.”

  He oozed over. “And you’re trying to clear this friend’s name? Admirable work, Madeline.”

  Jerry put down Astounding Nonsense and maneuvered his way between Warwick and me. “Ready to go, Mac?”

  “Yes, we’d better go. Thanks so much, Milton.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  ***

  As we got into the car, I said, “I owe you one.”

  Jerry grinned. “Not a problem. Most guys like to drool over you, I’ve noticed.”

  I tried to keep my tone light. “You’ve never felt the need to drool over me?”

  “Fishing for compliments?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He thought I was teasing. “I find you extremely drool-worthy. What do we do now?”

  Well, we run off together and make hot monkey love all day long. “We try to find out who put the poison in Gaskins’ soda. Lots of motive, not as much opportunity.”

  “Where did he get his drinks?”

  “Stephanie was in charge of buying drinks.”

  “Then I’d start with Stephanie.”

  “I’ve already talked with her, but there are a few things I need to clear up.” I stopped at the red light. “You know, while we’re in town, we could stop by and see Tucker.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  “You could at least say hi and congratulations.”

  “I already have. When he called to tell me he was getting married.”

  “It would only take a minute.”

  He turned to face me. “Look. This is not part of our bargain. I get a job. You paint. There’s nothing in the deal about going to that house, and if you don’t shut up about it, I’m jumping out of the car.”

  “Okay. How about going to Harriet’s house?”

  “Mac.”

  “Would she be home?”

  “She’s always home.”

  “That makes it easy.”

  He stewed for a while and must have decided I wasn’t going to leave Parkland without seeing one of his relatives. “Okay.”

  “You’re afraid if you make her angry, she’ll cut you off, aren’t you? Then you really will have to find a job.”

  “I have many reliable scams to fall back on.”

  “I think she’s hiding something about her relationship with McKittrick’s assistant. I think he’s the culprit, and for some reason, she feels she has to protect him at your expense. Does she still live on Bently Street?”

  “Yes, but she won’t come out.”

  “If she doesn’t want to face you, maybe she’ll talk to you through the door.”

  We drove to Bently Street and parked in front of the dark little house where Harriet lived. The shades were drawn. Jerry and I got out of the car and walked up the steps to the front door. We knocked and waited.

  Jerry knocked again. “Harriet, it’s Jerry. I’d like to talk to you.”

  No answer.

  I couldn’t see anything past the dark window shades. “Are you sure she’s home?” I took out my cell phone and called her number. We could hear the phone ringing in the house. After a while, I put my phone back in my pocketbook. I knocked one more time and raised my voice. “Harriet, it’s Madeline. Jerry and I need to know about you and McKittrick’s assistant, Jackson Frye. If you’re looking for someone to blame, you might blame him. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

  No answer.

  Jerry looked at me and shrugged. “I told you.”

  “We’ll come back another time. We’ll keep trying.” When we got back in the car, I said, “Harriet plans to be at the wedding, doesn’t she? You could speak with her then.”

  “I could,” he said. “If I were going.”

  “Think about it.”

  I could tell he’d reached his limit of family interaction for the day. “Let’s go talk to Pansy or Peony or whatever her name was.”

  “Poppy.”

  “Poppy. Let’s go talk to Poppy.”

  So I drove to Poppy Farrington’s house.

  Rose Farrington met us at the door. “I’m sorry, but Mom’s not home. She went motorcycling with her boyfriend and won’t be back till later.”

  We thanked her and were about to leave when she said, “Miss Maclin, what you said about people not taking you seriously. I want to be a doctor. Do you think people will hold it against me if I win beauty pageants?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “A pageant would be a good way for you to make some money for medical school.”

  She looked relieved. “That’s what Mom said, but I wasn’t sure, and since you’ve been there and everything, I thought I’d ask.”

  “Many successful career women have pageant experience. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just don’t let pageants rule your life. That’s what I was trying to get across to everyone.”

  “Okay, thanks,” she said.

  ***

  Jerry and I went back to the theater. During the evening rehearsal, I sat out at the picnic table under the trees and made a few phone calls. The first call was to Jake Banner at the Galaxy.

  “Jake, who told you about Jerry’s parents?”

  I could picture him at his desk, feet up. “Story’s been around forever,” he said.

  “But where did you hear it?”

  “I guess Des told me. Come to think of it, I don’t really know where I first heard it.”

  “If Des was eight, Jerry only six, and Tucker barely two years old, who was there to see what happened? Harriet came running in from another room.”

  Jake chuckled. “Guess you’ll have to talk to Harriet.”

  “I’m trying to.”

  “Bound to be somebody else who knew the Fairweathers.”

  I felt my heart sink. “I know somebody.”

  “Who?”

  “My mother.”

  “Harriet doesn’t sound so bad now, does she?”

  I rarely talk to my mother. She’s never forgiven me for giving up my pageant career. She’s a plain pushy woman with an overwhelming desire to outdo her coven of friends, and having a beauty queen for a daughter gave her bragging rights for eighteen years. Her house is still a shrine to Former Me, from Most Beautiful Baby to Miss Parkland.

  Mom didn’t seem surprised to hear from me.

  “So you’re living in Celosia now. Have you met Evan James?”

  Of course she would know any pageant connection. “Yes, he’s very nice.”

  “Someone told me you helped with the Miss Celosia Pageant.”

  “It was cancelled.”

  “Really? That’s a shame.”

  I could picture her sitting on the black living room sofa. Despite all my efforts to add color to the house, Mom insisted on black and white furnishings, saying they were cleaner looking and less trouble to match. All the doors and windows would be shut so the air conditioner could keep the house about sixty degrees. She’d have on one of her white summer dresses, a black sweater, and sandals. She was probably drinking some unsweetened tea and maybe eating a few carrot sticks. Mom was proud of her slim figure and determined to keep fit.

  “What are they doing now?” she asked.

  Maybe a little pageant news would help my cause. “Evan’s planning a new pageant called Miss Celosia Summertime.”

  “Are you going to be in it?” The eagerness in her voice was pathetic.

  “I’m too old, Mom.”

  “You’re consulting, then.”

  “On a very limit
ed basis.”

  “So what’s the theme?”

  “Summertime. I need to ask you about the Fairweathers.”

  She made an exasperated sound. “You’re still seeing Jerry? I’d heard he’d given up the money.”

  “I need to know what happened to his parents.”

  “Everyone knows what happened. They died in a fire.”

  “Is there someone among your friends who knew them well?”

  I could tell by the tone of her voice Mom was wondering why I was asking these questions. “I suppose the Deatons.”

  “The Deatons?”

  “Hamilton and Alexandra. I know they ran with that rich set.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “Deer Point Estates. They finally got their wish, living among the nouveau riche.”

  Mother always says “nouveau riche” in a snide tone of voice, but I know she would’ve given anything to live within the gates of Deer Point, Parkland’s ritziest neighborhood.

  “Why are you worrying with that old tragedy, Madeline? They weren’t murdered. Aren’t you poking around in murders now?”

  “I’m solving murders,” I said.

  “You won’t solve that one. It was an accident.”

  “I just need to ask the Deatons a few questions.”

  As usual, she wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t involve an evening gown competition. “Tell me more about this Summertime Pageant.”

  I told her Cathy and Mitch were in charge, and she laughed.

  “I had forgotten about those two! Are they still just as deranged?”

  “They’re a little intense.”

  “Oh, during Miss Little River Falls, I thought they’d never leave you alone. And you remember that time in Atlanta when they made those tacky posters that said ‘We’re Mad About Madeline’ and stood out along the highway and waved them? I thought they’d be arrested!” She laughed some more. “Oh, oh, and the Junior Miss in Valdosta, remember that? They showed up in identical plaid outfits. So embarrassing!”

  “I remember.”

  “They need to get lives.”

  There wasn’t a safe answer to this. I decided to go with, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When are you coming home? Am I going to see you any time soon?”

  “Maybe when this case is solved.”

  “Well, honestly, Madeline, just remember you can’t fix everything.”

  I said good-by and hung up. No, I couldn’t fix everything, but I sure as hell could fix some things, no matter what my mother believed.

  I called the Deatons and asked if I could stop by tomorrow. They said they’d be delighted to see me.

  ***

  The next morning, at the entrance to Deer Point, I stopped at the gate and was admitted. I passed perfectly manicured lawns and vast flower beds, houses big enough to be hotels, columns and gates and ornamental trees. Hamilton and Alexandra Deaton lived in their own court, Deaton Circle. Three Eberlin houses could’ve fit into their mansion.

  The Deatons met me at the front door. I didn’t remember the Deatons but liked them immediately. Hamilton was a short strutting little rooster of a man, and Alexandra reminded me of a rose just past full bloom. He had on khaki shorts and a yellow golf shirt. She was in layers of pink chiffon. A large pink straw hat covered her wispy blonde hair.

  She grasped both my hands. “Madeline, it’s so good to see you. Please come out back. We’re sitting by the pool.”

  The pool was Olympic size, surrounded by exotic plants. Hamilton showed me to a deck chair. “Can we get you a drink?”

  “Iced tea would be fine,” I said.

  “Get me one, too, Hamilton,” Alexandra said. She draped herself into the chair next to mine. “We haven’t seen you or your mother in ages. How is she?”

  “She’s doing well, thank you.”

  “And what are you up to these days?”

  “I’ve opened my own detective agency in Celosia.”

  Her eyes widened. “Remarkable! So you’re not doing pageants anymore?”

  “No.”

  “That’s too bad. You have quite a talent for it. But being a detective sounds like so much fun! Is that why you’re here? Are you on a case?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “I need to know more about the Fairweather family.”

  “Oh, yes, we knew Lillian and Victor. Such a tragedy.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I wish I knew. The police called us, you see, because Harriet wanted us there. We’d always been like an aunt and uncle to the children, so it was natural for her to want us. We went right over, but by then, it was much too late to do anything for their parents.”

  “Tell me what you know about the fire.”

  Hamilton returned with the tea in time to answer. “The firemen said it was caused by some candles.”

  “Did anyone mention blue flames?”

  He handed me a glass of tea and gave one to his wife. “That’s all nonsense.”

  “So there wasn’t anything supernatural associated with the accident?”

  He laughed and sat down in another chair. “You’ve been reading those old tabloid stories. They went crazy with theories about avenging ghosts and evil spirits.”

  Besides the mysterious fire, I’d never heard any strange tales about Jerry’s family. “Were there ghost stories associated with the Fairweathers?”

  “Lillian had some very odd relatives, didn’t she, Alex? What was that brother of hers studying? Bats? That’s probably where the spooky stories came from.”

  “Val Eberlin,” I said. “I’m staying in his house.”

  “Well, he was an odd duck. Why are you staying in his house?”

  “He left it to Jerry.”

  “Really? I don’t think he ever met the boys.”

  Alexandra patted my hand. “We were very close to the children. If it had been possible, we would’ve taken them in, but we had four of our own to raise, and Harriet insisted on taking care of the boys herself.”

  “Wasn’t she too young?”

  “Almost eighteen. She had plans to go to law school, too, didn’t she, Hamilton? Had to put all that on hold. We helped out as much as we could, but she took over the family.”

  “Had her hands full,” Hamilton said.

  “Oh, the boys were precious. Des was always very shy except when he was playing the piano. You know, even when he was little, he’d hop right up and play. Tucker was the cutest baby. As for Jerry, well, he was just plain rowdy. Always up to something, playing pranks, trying to get attention, I’m sure. It’s hard being the middle child.”

  Hamilton brushed away a bee that tried to take a drink of his tea. “Is there some reason you need to know about this, Madeline? It was a long time ago.”

  “I’m just trying to understand why Jerry won’t go back to the house.”

  “He’s coming to the wedding, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought the accident would affect him that strongly. Seems to me Des took things a lot harder than his brothers did. Of course, he was oldest. He realized what had really happened.”

  And what had really happened? I wondered. “So no one else was there? What about the artist who painted the boys’ portrait, McKittrick? What do you know about him? And his assistant, Jackson Frye?”

  “I don’t know anything about an assistant. I know the McKittrick fellow was a suspect for a while. There were some things missing, weren’t there, Alex?”

  “Oh, yes. First we thought they’d been destroyed in the fire, but come to find out, they were gone. McKittrick didn’t have them, though.”

  I was beginning to get an idea what might have happened. McKittrick and Frye are in the house every day working on the portrait. Let’s say something bright catches Frye’s eye. He comes back for it at night and accidentally knocks over some candles. Or was it an accident? A house fire would be the perfect cover for his crime.

  “I’m sorry we
can’t be of more help,” Alexandra said, “but you know about as much as we do. Have you spoken with Harriet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “She’s a little more approachable than she used to be,” Hamilton said. “I’m not sure why. Maybe with Des established and Tucker getting married, she can finally relax.”

  I stayed and chatted with the Deatons for about an hour, thanked them for their help and hospitality, and then drove back toward Celosia. I pulled over in a church parking lot and punched in Harriet’s number. I was surprised when she answered.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Madeline, Harriet. Sorry Jerry and I missed you yesterday.”

  I heard her take a deep breath. “Just stop, Madeline. Nothing you or anyone can do will bring them back.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your parents in such a horrible way, but I can’t believe Jerry is to blame. Is your family name so important that you have to cover up what really happened?”

  Silence.

  “I want to know about Jackson Frye,” I said. “I want to know about the things missing from your home.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m just trying to help Jerry.”

  “You can help Jeremyn by leaving him alone. Good-by.”

  Hamilton Deaton was right. Harriet had mellowed a bit. In the past, she wouldn’t have said good-by.

  ***

  I decided to swing by the Farrington house and see if Poppy was home. Rose Farrington was tall and dark-haired, but her mother was short and blonde, her round figure packed into short denim overalls. Her frizzy hair was tied in two pigtails, and she had the rough, sunburned features of someone who no longer gave a damn about her complexion. Her legs were skinny and slightly bowed. She was in her flower garden, a hose in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She waved me over.

  “You must be Madeline. Rose said you’d stopped by earlier.”

  “Yes, nice to meet you,” I said.

  She stuck the cigarette in her mouth, wiped her hand on her shorts, and shook hands. “Pleasure. You don’t mind if I continue my watering, do you? This weather sure is hard on the impatiens.”

  “Please go ahead,” I said. “I won’t take but a few minutes. I’m looking for Kirby Willet, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.”