She relaxed against the cushion. “I see. Why do you think I can help?”
I launched into the facts that I had so far, starting with the explosion of his house, ending with the statement about the flower shop being owned jointly by the Sisters of Charity and Max.
She shook her head. “Such a terrible shock. You’re right, of course. We are part owners of the Williams business and have been for many years.”
“How did this arrangement come about?” I had a suspicion that somehow The Sisters of Charity, the flower shop and Max Williams’ death were connected.
“You may not be aware, Maggie, that the Sisters have always been interested in education and especially in trades for those who don’t or can’t go on to college. They’ve worked with the local schools for many years. This arrangement with Mr. Williams was worked out shortly after Mr. and Mrs. Williams came to Tuxford.
“You see, Maggie, there were several members of our order who had ties to the old country, one way or another. If there was some way to help even a few people to escape the death camps, they pulled every string to manage it.
“The old Mother Superior was a sister of the priest in the little village near where the Wilhelm’s lived. Between them, they arranged to get several families out including Kurt and Elspeth Wilhelm. When they eventually arrived in Tuxford, they helped Mr. Wilhelm set up his shop. Wilhelm learned of the Sisters’ interest in education and came to them with a plan to train young people in a business. He proposed using his flower shop as part of a work-study program.
“Before the war, Kurt Wilhelm spent his life growing things. He had been the head gardener of a large estate in Germany and knew more about growing things than most professors. He felt he could teach horticulture and basic business skills and provide jobs for our students. His business plan was extremely sound. The bank and the Sisters agreed, and everything developed from there.”
At this point, she stood.
“Walk with me.” We left the lounge and I followed her down a long, empty hall tiled with glistening squares of dark brown and beige tile that brought an instant image of tiptoeing over squares of chocolate and peanut butter fudge.
“I don’t know how much you know about the Wilhelm’s, Maggie. Just before they moved here, they changed their name to Williams. They were desperate to locate their son, Max, but to bring him here would be very expensive. As a result, they saved every penny they could squeeze out. Max was very young, and in school, when the Williams’ had to leave. If they had stayed, they would have been killed as enemies of the Fatherland. Let’s go through here.” She indicated a path of crushed stone leading toward the tall hedge along the side of the enclosed garden.
The path was dappled by the shade of maple trees, and bordered with beds of lilies, the remains of spring flowers and many others that I didn’t recognize. Sister Beatrice continued her story.
“Eventually, the Sisters were able to reach someone who made arrangements to get Max out of Germany. He was about eighteen or nineteen at the time.”
She chuckled. “The old Sister managing the business at that time became ill and someone needed to take over her responsibilities. The Sisters of Charity is a family of loving, caring and compassionate individuals, without the slightest idea how to manage a business or handle finances. When I was growing up my father insisted that my brothers and I knew how to manage our money. He constantly reminded us to ‘Take care of your money now, and it will take care of you later.’ I returned to the university and took a crash course in management and accounting. As a result, I became the business manager for Williams Flowers and I’m also on the board. The legal part of the business is carried out through Wilson and Sons in Marion.”
We reached a corner of the yard where the privet shrubs formed a right angle. At the base of the hedge, clusters of hostas waved green and white leaves in the soft breeze. Sister Beatrice stooped and pulled a few dry leaves from the hostas.
“Mr. Williams wanted so much for his son to continue his education, but Max wasn’t very cooperative. Max was a troubled, soulless man, full of hatred, Maggie, and we all prayed for him. I was in the shop the day he discovered his father, and the Sisters, owned the business together. Max was furious. He stormed around the shop throwing things and shouting at his father, calling him every nasty name ever invented by man and a few new ones. The people working at the time just stood aside in fear, afraid to move. He spoke in German, so most of the employees didn’t understand, but my grandmother spoke German at home. I understood what he said. His father turned pale, and he looked so hurt, but his face tightened and he never said a word. Max hated the Church and resented having to share anything with it. He was a very unpleasant partner, but no one here would be capable of killing him.”
“What can you tell me about the kind of person Max was? Neat, efficient, did he have a beard, send his laundry out, that kind of thing?”
“My observations showed him to be a compulsively, neat person. He had an uncontrollable temper and raved at anyone who tried to change any of his arrangements. One employee was fired for ordering a new set of filing cabinets on his own. His personal habits, I don’t know about, but he was the kind of man who always had every hair in place and his shoes polished.” She smiled. “I suppose, today, we’d describe him as a ‘neat freak’ with a hair trigger temper.”
“Did Max have a will or are the Sisters the sole owners of the flower shop now?” I asked.
She shrugged. “There’s no will as far as I know. We’re to meet with the lawyer next week to find out. Until then, things go on as usual.”
She guided me back through the quiet garden, our footsteps crunching on the crushed stone. I was sorry to leave. There was a quiet here that couldn’t be found anywhere else. Cares seemed to just scatter like dandelion fluff in a stiff breeze. When we reached the front door, she gave me a hug.
“It’s been like old times, seeing you again, Maggie. I’ve read your books. I’m glad you paid attention to my library talks.”
Chapter Nine
Well, no suspects there. I reviewed my list of other suspects. One that nagged at the back of my mind, like a migraine, was Willie Manning.
After my chat with Sister Beatrice, I went past the Washburn place on my way home. Emily Washburn hovered in my mind like another persistent headache. This time I went around by the highway, into the other entrance.
Eddie Coblet was working along the drive. Flats of seedlings were stacked next to a freshly dug bed. He put down his spade as I coasted to a stop.
“I’m afraid Miss Harriet isn’t home, Ms. MacKenzie.” His smile flashed, lighting his pale eyes.
“Actually, Eddie, I wanted to talk to you.” I got out of the Jeep and pulled on my sun hat.
“I hope you don’t mind if I keep working.” Eddie motioned at all the trays. “I want to get these transplanted before they wilt.”
“I can talk while you work,” I assured him. “You certainly have a knack for growing things.”
“My grandfather made these grounds look like a showplace. I’m afraid I can’t compete with his work, but I try. Every spring I followed him around, handing him his tools while he told me stories about each bulb and bush. He started working here as gardener right after Mr. Robert was born.”
“I’m trying to learn about Emily Washburn,” I told him. “Did your grandfather ever mention her?”
“Gramps talked about Miss Emily all the time. He watched her grow up. He loved to tell about all the parties they gave here. Gramps provided the flowers for every occasion. It was really something.” Eddie paused and looked at me. “She was a pretty little thing. Gramps always said she looked like one of his lilies.”
“Was he still here when she came back from the war?”
Eddie finished transplanting the flowers and started clipping the shrubs.
“Gramps said, when Miss Emily returned home, she was a crushed violet. Pale, weak, spent most mornings sitting in the big window seat that overlooks the garden
. He said every time she walked in the gardens, she was crying. The only time she cheered up was when she rode her horse, Champion.” He shook his head.
I waited. I was getting a good mental image of Emily Washburn, but so far, nothing new.
“Gramps said they were all distressed when she died. It was chilly and overcast that day, and the woods were full of fog and drizzle, but she was determined to ride. Gramps said that was the first time she seemed happy since she came home.” He sighed. “Then she was killed.”
“Did your grandfather ever say anything about why she went away or what happened overseas?”
“No.”
“How long have you been working here, Eddie?”
“I told you I helped Gramps when I was little. My Dad was in the Navy and spent months at sea. We followed him from base to base until Mom died. I had just turned ten. That was really hard for both of us but Gramps said there was a place here for me and Dad when he was on leave. So I came here to live and go to school. Dad died the summer just before my second year of college. Gramps was gone too, but Miss Harriet said I should consider this my home and stay as long as I liked. She’s been great.”
“What are you studying, Eddie?”
“Botany, of course. I’ll be finished in December.”
“Then what? Will you stay here? In Tuxford with Miss Harriet?”
“Don’t know. It’ll depend on what Miss Harriet decides to do with this place. I hope she doesn’t sell it, but I guess it’s her decision.” He hesitated. “If I had a choice, I’d really like to start my own business as a landscape designer, and use these gardens to test my plants. But that’s all just idea at this time, Ms. MacKenzie. It depends on Miss Harriet.”
Chapter Ten
When I reached home, a message waited behind the blinking red light on the phone. It was from Faith Manning.
“Maggie, can you come for lunch tomorrow?” She gave an address and phone number. How could I refuse?
The next day promptly at noon I arrived at the big house at 416 Van Buren Avenue with my curiosity running on overdrive. It’s in the old part of Tuxford, the part we always walked past on the way to Central Elementary School. This was one of the better parts of Tuxford. At one time the most popular doctor in town lived here and the house was something of a showplace. I had never been inside although Gerry and I speculated often about what it must look like.
The house looked down at the street from a position just beyond a stretch of an immaculate green lawn. A shoulder-high cement wall studded with stones as big as dinner plates protected the lawn from the traffic on the sidewalk, although I remembered it as being higher than my head. A row of small pointed stones lined the top of the wall, like rick-rack along the edge of a collar. A path of gravel led to the double doors where Faith waited.
I followed her down a hallway, through the kitchen out to a deck under a canopy. She poured something pink into glasses filled with ice, then brought out a plate of thin sandwiches and bowl of fruit salad. Everything was cool and delicious with lettuce crisp and cool and pickles that crunched. Finally, Faith brought out little cakes, each one iced in a different color; each a different flavor.
“This was a lovely lunch, Faith, but I’m curious. Did you have a special reason for asking me to lunch, or did you just want to know me better?”
She stared at me for a long moment, sipping her drink.
“I understand you’re wanting information about Max Williams,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I dated him for about a year. At one time, I thought I knew him, but I began to realize that he never really got close enough for anyone to know him.
“After graduation, I got a job at Williams Flowers. Willie was at the university, and all the rest of the class were scattered. There wasn’t much in the way of a social life here in Tuxford.” She took a few minutes to pour more punch for both of us. “Mother insisted I get some kind of training, so I took a course in accounting. When I finished and received my certificate, Mr. Williams moved me into the office to do the bookkeeping and that’s when Max noticed me.”
She gazed out over the manicured lawn that shimmered in the afternoon heat.
“Max was a great looking guy, tall, with gorgeous blue eyes, blond hair and shoulders out to here.” She measured, fanning her hands out in a wide gesture. “He had a rather dry wit too, which was quite unexpected since he never joked around at work. This was a couple of years after high school. I remember I was so surprised, and flattered when Max brought me flowers and asked me to dinner that first time. He took me to the movies, dances at the ballroom in Marion and even to the fair that first summer.” She shrugged.
“What happened, Faith?”
“He always had to be in charge. Every time I offered an opinion or tried to suggest something, he would say, in that dismissing way he had
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
He got nasty and rude when I suggested something different. I finally told him I was tired of being treated like a thing and, if he wanted to get along with other people, he needed to change his ways. That remark really set him off.” Faith stared out at the yard, then shook her head.
“What happened?”
“God, Maggie, for a moment I actually thought he would hit me. He raised his hand and I have never forgotten the look of hatred in his eyes. His words were like icicles dripping venom. He hissed at me like a snake.
“Never talk back to me. You should appreciate my attention. Women are, after all, only useful for a while, then should be discarded like an old jacket.” Her head tilted up and she looked straight at me.
“When he said that, I gathered up my things and left. We had just eaten our lunch in the park. I walked all the way home, clear across town in such a rage it’s a wonder I didn’t set fire to the shrubbery.” Faith ran her fingers up and down the sides of her glass leaving little dry streaks in the condensation.
“Faith, do you think Willie was jealous of Max?”
“Not exactly. He was away at school, nearly finished, in fact. He was surprised a little, that I just quit my job. Mr. Williams was too. He didn’t want me to quit; told me I was the best bookkeeper he had ever employed. I felt bad but I didn’t have the heart to tell him about Max’s behavior.” Faith gave me a lopsided smile. “I think, perhaps, Willie did resent Max’s attention to me although he never said anything directly. It was the day of his graduation that he asked me to marry him.” She laughed. “That was a couple of weeks after that scene in the park. We got married that summer. Willie found an apartment near the university and I got a job as an accountant while he completed his law studies. After he passed his bar exam, we moved back here to Tuxford.”
“How did Max react when you married Willie?”
“I had no idea. I was busy with Jason and pregnant with Lance by then.”
“Faith, Willie has asked me to try to locate any other members of the Washburn family.” I asked her a direct question. “Are you related to Louis Devereaux?”
“Louis Devereaux? Yes. He was my grandfather. Why?”
“I found a small, newspaper announcement of his and Emily Washburn’s engagement.”
She nodded. “I know the story. Grandfather was the school principal and Emily had a crush on him but he didn’t give her any reason to think he felt the same. Besides, back then, it would have been quite improper. He was offered a position as headmaster at a private school in Ohio so he left Tuxford. It was about that time that Emily put the announcement in the paper then, just as quickly, changed her mind. This was in 1917, we were at war and her brother Robert was somewhere overseas. From all that I’ve heard, Emily was accustomed to always getting her own way. I don’t know how she managed it, but she signed up as a nurse and was sent to France. She probably knew even less than I do about nursing, but I guess those were different times.”
“Was Emily pregnant?” I asked.
“Not to my knowledge, at least no one in the family ever mentioned it. Grandfather joined the Navy. After the war,
he got married and they had a son, my father. But grandfather had a lot of problems after he got home. They said it was shell shock. He died shortly after my father was born.”
She stared at me. “Why are you asking about all this?”
“I think Willie thinks you might be related to the Washburns.”
“Of all the ridiculous ideas! Why? Because of the name ‘Devereaux’?” Faith shook her head, her curls bouncing about. “That’s really a stretch.”
It was nearly five o’clock when I got back home, and I was hot and tired. I pulled the Jeep into the garage, gathered up my purse and notebook and trudged into the house. The air was heavy and still with the feel of an approaching storm. Even the maple leaves were limp and the bugs were silent for once. Shortly after supper, the storm broke, rain pounding against the side of the house like a tortured soul. The lightning and thunder would have done credit to all the Hollywood thrillers ever filmed. I located Mavis’ supply of candles in case they would be needed and went to take a bath before the power went off and the hot water cooled.
I fell asleep to the sound of rain hammering on the roof. At least the rain cooled the air somewhat.
Chapter Eleven
After the thunderstorm in the night, the morning dawned clear and cool, but the storm had left its mark. The yard was littered with sticks, branches and leaves. Instead of taking my usual walk, I circled the yard, gathering up the debris. My thoughts about Emily were interrupted by a cheerful “Good morning!” I looked up and found myself staring into the twinkling eyes of a leprechaun. I blinked. My fanciful elf turned out to be Mrs. Yoder, waving and smiling at me over the hedge.
“Hello. You startled me.” I waved to her and stepped closer. This was the first time I had seen Mrs. Yoder. She was obviously very old, but her eyes twinkled as though she had a great secret.
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