“Can you come over for tea this afternoon, dear? About half past two?” She didn’t wait for my answer but turned and pattered back to her door.
At precisely half past two, feeling as though I had been called to the Principal’s office, I presented myself at Mrs. Yoder’s front door.
Lily opened the screen as I stepped onto the porch. I’d never been inside this house, even though we lived next door as long as I can remember. The small foyer led into a wide hallway, lined with paintings of landscapes, each with a small light above. The hardwood floor glowed from years of polish and reflected the lights on the wall. The odor of something fresh from the oven floated on the air. A wide opening to the right showed a room lined with books behind an arrangement of several fat chairs.
I followed Lily to a small, breakfast nook off the dining room. The table was laid out with cups and a pot of steaming tea. Mrs. Yoder waited for me like a tiny queen. She had beautiful white hair and dark eyes that sparkled like my grandmother’s jet earrings. When I was settled in the chair to her left, she poured tea into the delicate flowered cups. Her hands fascinated me. They were small and delicate, almost translucent and seemed as fragile as the cup she handed me.
Lily returned with a plate of small cakes, and left us after making certain Mrs. Yoder didn’t need anything else. After taking a few sips of tea, I set my cup down.
“Thank you for inviting me over, Mrs. Yoder. I’ve wanted to meet you. I haven’t been back to Tuxford for several years and the neighborhood has changed considerably.”
“I asked you here because I wanted to meet another member of the Randall family. Mavis told me you would be visiting for a while.” She lifted the teapot. “More?” I nodded, and she refilled my cup. “Lily,” she called. When Lily appeared, Mrs. Yoder nodded toward the kitchen. “Bring me some flavoring for our tea, dear.”
When Lily returned with a bottle of brandy, I felt my eyebrows arch. Mrs. Yoder poured a hefty dollop of brandy into the teapot, replaced the cork in the bottle and handed it back to Lily.
“Thank you, my dear.”
“I was told you were asking questions about Max Williams. Was he a friend?”
Surprised, I blurted out “Oh no I hardly knew him at all. He moved here about the time I was in high school. He was a little older than Gerry and our paths never crossed much.” A sudden memory made me laugh. “I remember some of us throwing mud balls at him one day and got scolded by him and my mother. Did you know him? He was just across the street.”
She took a big gulp of tea, shaking her head.
“No, I didn’t really know him, although it’s possible he may have known my Roberta. Do you have children, Mrs. Mackenzie?”
“Please, call me Maggie. Yes, I have two daughters and one grandson. You?”
She straightened, picked up her cup with hands that trembled.
“I’ve never gotten over losing Roberta. She was such a joy to us. You see Ms. MacKenzie, my husband Jacob and I had no children of our own, but not by choice. We lived in France in the tiny village of Le Clare. It’s gone now. It was destroyed during the war. Jacob was headmaster of the village school and, while we weren’t wealthy, we had enough. Our last baby came early, just like all the others and only lived a few hours. She was so tiny and blue, as fragile as a baby robin. I was inconsolable. Jacob did his best to cheer me, but he was hurting as well.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. I put my hand on her arm.
“At that time, doctors didn’t have the knowledge to help women like me carry their babies to term. I had so many failures that finally my doctor told me that to continue would result in death for both of us. I despaired of ever having a family. Jacob tried to cheer me up, but it didn’t help. I felt as though I was drowning in a pool of blackness. One day in the middle of all the discouragement, Dr. Franz phoned. “He said to me, “I have a baby whose mother cannot keep her. Rosa, would you’—”
“I didn’t understand at first, Maggie. I thought, why? Another soul lost in this blackness.”
“Rosa, Rosa. Are you listening?” He kept saying. Finally, Dr. Franz’ words oozed through the fog in my mind. He knew of a baby that needed a home. He had little information, only that the infant had been left with only a small bundle of clothes and a note. “My child is named Roberta, after my brother.”
“Oh, Ms. Mackenzie, no one can imagine how I felt. From the first time we saw her, she wrapped her precious magic around our hearts. Jacob actually cried, he was so happy.”
Mrs. Yoder pointed to a photograph on the wall beside her. It was of a young girl standing before a long mirror. She wore a striped dress with a full skirt. I studied the photo. The style of the dress and the furniture in the room looked very much like my room when I was at home. I did some quick arithmetic. Roberta would have been about my age, maybe a few years older.
“She loved that dress. It was blue and white and she would spin around until it fanned out like a wheel. I made it for her sixth birthday. We spent the day at the park then had dinner of her favorite foods and a special dessert. She was always curious about everything and so adventurous. She loved to dance. She was exceptionally intelligent, making better grades in school than anyone else. She loved anything with words; read continually and studied hard. She had a natural ear for language and spoke several. She had just finished school when she was offered a position as a cryptologist.” Mrs. Yoder smiled at her memory. “Roberta was so beautiful and talented. Jacob and I were very proud of her.”
Her face crumpled with sadness, and she sighed.
“Roberta was an enchanting child with her heart shaped face and rosy cheeks. She danced and sang through our lives like a songbird. When the Germans invaded our village near the border, Jacob and I made arrangements to leave. I wanted Roberta to come with us. But, by now, she had become enamored with one of the German soldiers through her work as a cryptologist and decided to stay. We were waiting to board the last train when a group of soldiers swarmed through the station, firing weapons at everyone. Jacob shoved me and our bags onto the car but, just as he was about to step on, he was shot. The train pulled out with a tremendous jerk and he fell under the wheels.”
She stared into her cup. I reached over to clasp her hand. I had no words to offer. What comfort can anyone offer to such tragedy?
She poured more enhanced tea, gave me a sad little smile.
“Lily, bring my big picture of Roberta here, please.”
The photograph showed a beautiful, young woman with a dazzling smile and a heart shaped face encircled by dark hair arranged in the style of the 40s.
“She wrote that her soldier lover treated her like a queen. Roberta never really mentioned his name she just called him her ‘Major’. She wrote of taking walks in the country, having picnics in an old abbey, then about the arrival of a baby girl. She named her “Allilie”. I think she must have been a beautiful child, my granddaughter.” Mrs. Yoder pulled a tiny square of linen from her sleeve and dried her eyes. “By now, though, Roberta’s letters changed. She sounded worried, no longer happy. She wrote that Allilie was a good baby, rarely crying, but still, the Major was always angry and Roberta didn’t know why. She seemed afraid. She wrote that nothing she said, or did, made any difference in his attitude. Finally, she wrote that she and the baby were coming to stay with me. That was the last I heard from her.” She sat lost in thought, staring into her cup. A clock ticked somewhere and I heard Lily’s steps on the stairs.
Rosa looked up as Lily entered from the kitchen. “One of the peculiar twists of fate, Ms. MacKenzie has brought to me a wonderful surprise. I have learned that Lily’s mother was the daughter of Allilie, my granddaughter. When she showed me the paper of the adoption of Allilie Yoder by Lt. Thomas and his wife, I was speechless.”
“Yes, but not for long, grandmother.” Lily laughed, and turned to me. “She tells everyone we meet, wherever we go.”
Rosa straightened in her chair looked at me, and her expression changed.
“I am certain, M
aggie, that Roberta’s ‘Major’ caused her death.” Hatred glittered in her eyes then quickly vanished. “But to have the comfort of Roberta’s granddaughter is truly a blessing.”
That brief glitter of hatred in her eyes shocked me. “Did you ever learn anything about Roberta’s birth mother?” I asked, in an attempt to distract her.
“Sadly, no. The doctor handed her to me along with a small bag containing baby clothes, diapers and a small box. The box held a necklace and a diary. I never read the diary. At first, I didn’t want to know why someone would give up her child, and later I forgot about it. When we had to leave so quickly, I gave the bag to Roberta, told her to keep it safe that it contained all she had of her real mother. She knew she was adopted. I don’t know what happened to the bag.” She sighed. “I have talked your ear off, Maggie. I apologize. As usual, I’ve worn myself out and need to rest a little. Please forgive an old woman, and do come again. It has been such a long time since I felt able to talk about those times. Lily will show you out.”
“I’m glad you came, Maggie.” Lily walked me to the door, after helping Mrs. Yoder upstairs. “She doesn’t really talk to anyone much. I think it did her a great deal of good.”
Mrs. Yoder was an enigma. She was like a fragile flower, with her butterfly voice hair as silver as spun moonlight, but her eyes! The depth of hatred in her eyes was most disturbing.
Chapter Twelve
Donny knocked on my door, just as I was finishing my supper.
“Maggie? I have an apple pie here that is just begging to be eaten. Interested?”
I laughed and ushered her, and the pie, out to the patio table. I brought out plates and coffee while she cut generous slices from the still warm pie.
“I stopped at Maude’s bakery after work. I wanted some company. Now that Kevin’s back at school, the house is so empty.”
We talked a little about work and general things.
“Maggie, I’ve been thinking of some ways to help with your project of locating Emily Washburn’s family, if there is one.” Just then we heard someone pounding on the door.
“I’ll go.” Donny hurried inside, returning shortly followed by Lt. Phillips. “Look what I found on your porch, Maggie.”
“Sit down, Lieutenant, and have some pie.” I set a slice on the table before him, and poured a cup of coffee. His smile crinkled into little lines at the corners of his eyes. I liked his smile, and glancing up, I noticed that Donny liked it too. Hmmm.
Lt. Phillips and Donny hit it right off. He was witty, sharp and Donny’s crisp humor seemed to fascinate him. I liked that. They’re both nice people. However, I couldn’t help wonder. Why was he really here?
He finished his pie, pushed aside the plate and leaned his arms on the table.
“Ms. Mackenzie, I understand you’ve been asking questions about Max Williams.”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Perhaps. You may be interfering with an official investigation. What’s your interest in this case?” His words were mild, but threaded with steel.
“I love a good puzzle, Lieutenant. I’ll be more than happy to share any of my information if you’re interested.” I refilled our cups.
“We learned the Williams business has a silent partner, has had for many years. I spoke to a Sister Beatrice Clemmons, who told me that you, Ms. MacKenzie had been to see her.”
“That’s right.” I went on to tell Lt. Phillips what Sister Beatrice had told me about the arrangement between the Sisters of Charity and Williams. “I was trying to determine who benefited from Max’s death. I don’t think any of the Sisters would kill him. I had a lovely visit with Sr. Beatrice.” I laughed. “She remembered me from years ago at the library.”
“I don’t think the Sisters of Charity are suspects either.” He tilted the chair back making me uneasy. I had an alarming vision of the chair sliding out from under him. Would I be held responsible if he hurt himself?
I stood up, motioning Donny and Lt. Phillips to follow me. In the dining room, I showed the Lieutenant my stack of yearbooks, newspapers and notes.
“I’m trying to find out what happened to one of the Washburn family. In digging out information on Emily Washburn, I’ve found some possible connection with Max Williams. What it is, I don’t know yet. Maybe, Lt. Phillips, if we work together, we can connect all the pieces.”
“I’ll listen to what you have, but you’re not a member of the force, Ms. MacKenzie.” I sensed he was going to be difficult.
“Please. Call me Maggie. I know I’m not official.”
By the time we decided to call it quits, we were all great friends, calling each other by our first names. I watched, greatly pleased and a little amused at the ease with which Donny and Archer were captivated by the puzzle before us. They circled the table discussing and pointing out different articles, photos and sifted through my notes.
“Archer, I’d like to look through the Williams house,” I said, as he prepared to leave. “Can you okay it for me so I don’t get brought in by the patrol unit?”
He paused one arm in his jacket sleeve then gave a quick nod.
“Come.”
I followed Archer to his car, Donny right behind me. He stopped to get a couple of flashlights from the trunk, and led the way around to the back door of the Williams house.
The tiny back porch led to an immaculate kitchen, marred only by a film of dust over the cabinet tops and table.
“The lab techs have completed their work here, but I suggest you don’t touch anything.” Archer led us up the stairs.
“Look! It’s still there.” I shone my light at the round newel post. The beam picked up an “M” and “E” cut into the wood. “Eleanor and I carved our initials in here years ago.”
Two pairs of eyes turned in my direction.
“It rained for a week and we had run out of something to do, then we got the bright idea of leaving something for the future, you know like a time capsule. Eleanor found a knife in her father’s desk and we carved our initials in the newel post. When Mr. Trescott came home and saw it, he was furious. I was never sure what upset him the most; the carving or our using an heirloom silver letter knife that belonged to his grandfather. I was sent home and Eleanor was grounded. My mother wasn’t impressed, either. I spent the last month of vacation working my tail off. Our house had the shiniest silverware, the neatest bureau drawers and the most weed free garden in all of Tuxford. She called me ‘Margaret’ for an entire month and I knew I was really in trouble.”
Donny and Archer laughed at my story as we continued up the stairs.
We looked through the upstairs rooms, which were all neat and tidy except for the dust stirred up by the explosion. The damage seemed to be confined to the front door area. It suggested the person responsible had a specific target.
I stopped at the impact site on our way out. It was still secured with the yellow Do Not Cross tape. The light from the streetlight made spooky shadows on the debris of the former living room.
“Why are you stopping here? The crime scene folks have been all through here, if there was anything to find, they’d have found it.” Archer sounded impatient. I’m sure he thought I was being too nosy, but I felt we were all missing something. Just as I turned to go back, a tiny flick of something caught my eye, a difference in the intensity of light, perhaps? I turned back and it was gone. Like a light focused through a small hole, but where?
“What is it, Maggie?” By now, Donny’s attention was caught.
I pointed to the spot, and held my hand out trying to block the tiny light. Archer grumbled, annoyed with both of us but he gave in, finally.
It took almost half an hour until we located a pinpoint of light shining through the jagged remains of the door frame. With careful prying, Archer dug what looked like a point of a pencil from the wall opposite the door. It was black. He dropped it into a paper envelope.
“This looks like part of a nail, probably thrown here by the force of the explosion. I’ll hav
e this analyzed,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Since Donny had walked to my house from the news office, Archer drove her home. I felt like a matchmaker.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day I entered Maude’s shop and found her pacing up and down the short aisle between the yellow tables and the pastry case. Her usual composure had dissolved into a torrent of wails and tears.
“Maude, what’s the matter?” I pulled her over to a table and pushed her into one of the yellow chairs. “Sit down before you dislocate something and tell me what’s wrong? Is Mike hurt again? Or Caroline?”
“Oh, Maggie.” She mopped her face with a dish towel as she rocked back and forth on the chair. “The police came to the flower shop and took Mike in for questioning, and I can’t get any answers from anyone.” She jumped to her feet and resumed pacing. “Do you think they suspect he had anything to do with Mr. Williams’ death? I don’t know what to do. Maggie, would you talk to the Lieutenant? Maybe you can find out for me?”
I couldn’t say no. “I’ll try. You try to calm down, Maude. It’s probably nothing. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” I was as puzzled as Maude. Why would the police question Mike Chambers now? They had talked to him at length just after the explosion. What more did they hope to learn?
As I entered the Police Headquarters, I met Mike Chambers coming down the stairs. He was with Lt. Phillips. They stood at the foot of the steps a few minutes, shook hands and Mike continued toward the door.
“Is everything alright, Mike?” I searched his face for signs of distress, but found none.
“Sure, why?” He nodded. “Because I’m here? Everything’s fine, Ms. MacKenzie. Lt. Phillips just wanted to clear up a few details in my report.”
“I’m so glad. Relieved, too. Mike, before you go back to work go talk to Maude. She’s about to fall apart at the seams because the police took you away from the shop. Go set her mind at ease.” I smiled and patted his arm. He grinned and pushed through the door.
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