“Do you think she felt the same way?”
Grady shook his head. “Don’t know. It’s hard to say. Bev seemed eager to be back in North Carolina, closer to her family and all that, and I’m sure she was glad to see me. To tell the truth, I was so disappointed after building this all up in my mind, I didn’t pay much attention to how Beverly reacted. I was disgusted with myself for dragging it out like that, for wasting all those years hoping someday Bev would change her mind.”
“And when she did, you didn’t want her?”
“Something like that. Frankly, I was hoping Bev felt the same so it would save me the embarrassment of going through all that. Kate, you must think I’m a real jerk.”
“You can’t help how you feel,” I said. “So that’s how you knew about her apartment, how small it was and where it was located.”
He nodded. “Right. That place was out in the boonies.”
“Grady, while you and Bev were talking, did she mention having a quarrel with anyone?”
“Not that I can think of. Why?”
“She didn’t seem afraid or suspicious of anybody at the university or maybe somebody she worked with?”
Grady got to his feet. “Why are you asking me this, Kate? Is there something I don’t know?”
I was explaining that the police there thought Beverly’s death wasn’t an accident when Uncle Ernest drove up. Once he’d gotten out of the car, he barely nodded to us as he approached; his pace was slower than usual and his hair looked as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. My uncle seemed to have aged five years in the last few days.
I knew it probably wasn’t the proper time to ask him, but I had to know. “Uncle Ernest, it looks like somebody dug up something under one of the rose bushes. Did you know about that?”
He looked at me as if he didn’t understand. “What, Kate?”
“The rose bush—the pink one in the back. Somebody’s been digging under there. Looks like they tried to put it back so nobody would know.”
He took a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, and it occurred to me that Ella must have ironed that handkerchief. “Let’s don’t worry about that right now, Kate, and I’d just as soon you stay away from the garden for now.”
I nodded. I felt like a little girl with her hand in the cookie jar. “I’m sorry about Ella, Uncle Ernest. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“It’s all taken care of. Service is tomorrow at three—Presbyterian church, of course.” It surprised me when my uncle smiled. “Ella left instructions, you know—had everything written out. And guess what hymn she wants? ‘Shall We Gather at the River’! And her terrified of water!”
I left Grady to mull over what I had told him about Beverly and followed my uncle inside where Violet waited in the kitchen. She had a tall glass of sweet tea ready with lemon and mint, just the way Uncle Ernest liked it, and before the man had a chance to do otherwise, Violet had him seated at the table. She pulled out a chair and plopped down across from him, then indicated that I was to do the same.
“Kate and I are concerned about Maggie, Ernest,” she began in a confidential whisper. “She’s uneasy, you know, living alone with all that’s been going on.”
My uncle glanced at me and I repeated what Violet had said.
He drained his glass and waited while Violet refilled it. “I never knew Maggie to be the nervous type,” he said.
Violet smoothed her purple hair and patted his hand. “Well, of course, she won’t let on, but I know she’s been awake half the night.”
I almost laughed. My grandmother usually slept like a rock.
“We were thinking, since she’s alone over there it might help her to get a good night’s rest if you were to stay with her—for tonight at least. We have Lum and Grady here with us and I’ll be sleeping on the cot—just until this passes over.”
Uncle Ernest took off his glasses and polished them. I doubt if he’d been out of his own bed more than two or three times in the last forty years. He was not a happy man. “You want me to stay tonight at Maggie’s?” He sighed. “Well, Violet, if you really think it would help—”
“Oh, I do, I do!” For a minute I thought she might hug him, but Violet restrained herself. “But don’t let on to anybody about this, please. It would embarrass Maggie for anybody to know she’s having these problems. You know how independent she pretends to be.”
My uncle nodded numbly. I wanted to jump up and run. Surely lightning would strike us at any moment! If my grandmother ever found out what we had done, Violet and I would really have something to worry about!
A few minutes later I heard Violet telling Ma Maggie that Ernest was concerned about her staying alone and insisted on being with her that night.
“Why, I’m perfectly all right by myself. Ernest knows that.” My grandmother spoke a little too loudly and Violet made even more noise trying to shush her.
“He wants to do this, Maggie. He’s your brother, he worries about you. One night isn’t going to kill you, so just humor the man, will you?” I could tell Violet was losing her patience.
“Oh, all right, but I’ll have to make up the bed in my guest room. I just hope I can find the sheets!” Ma Maggie grumbled. “And for the last three nights some idiot woman has been calling me at four in the morning asking to speak to somebody named Homer Earl. I keep telling her there’s no Homer Earl there, but she can’t seem to get it through her thick skull! Hope Ernest doesn’t mind losing out on his sleep.”
“And please don’t say anything to him or anybody else about this, Maggie,” Violet said. “He’d hate for everybody to know he’s such an old worrywart. Promise it will be our secret.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, all right!” My grandmother waved her away. “But I think you’re both about three pickles shy of a quart.”
She doesn’t know the half of it, I thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY
If there had been a way to hide from Deedee, I would have done it, but neighbors bearing food had already started to pour in and I had to mingle and be polite. Uncle Lum and Casey rummaged around to find extra tables to hold all the cakes and pies, and Ma Maggie was trying her best to keep a record of who brought what. Uncle Ernest’s neighbor Goat had just brought over a huge basket of fruit and I was trying to find a place to put it when Deedee appeared from behind an arrangement of red gladiolus and whisked it out of my hand.
“Here, let’s put it in the middle of the table,” she said, shoving aside a graceful centerpiece of hydrangeas, roses and Queen Anne’s lace the florist had delivered earlier.
“Let’s not,” I said, and setting things the way they were, I moved the basket to the buffet. A vase of pink carnations sat on the table by the door and a billowy multicolored arrangement from Ella’s circle at the Presbyterian church cascaded from the mantel. The house was beginning to smell like a funeral parlor and I tried to avoid even looking at the spray of purple artificial flowers with a toy telephone in the center bearing the message Jesus called!
Deedee fiddled with a dish of cookies, turning it this way and that. “So . . . how’s the runaway this morning? Feeling better?”
“Josie’s all right,” I said. “I think she came through just fine after spending a night alone in the woods. She’s a brave little girl and I’m proud of her.”
“I noticed you and Grady were alone all night, too!” My cousin snickered—she actually snickered!—I don’t know any other way to describe it. “That must have been interesting. Wonder what Ned will think about that.”
“In the first place we weren’t alone together, although if we had been it wouldn’t have made any difference. And I’m sure Ned will just be relieved that we all found our way back home.”
“You mean he doesn’t know?” Her eyes narrowed. “Where is Ned, Kate?”
Thank heavens Aunt Leona came between us just then on her way to the kitchen with a dish in her hands. “Gracious, look at all these sweets! And here we have another l
emon meringue pie. I don’t know what we’ll do with it all.”
I had a good notion of what to do with that pie but it would’ve been a terrible waste and then I’d have to clean the floor. Deedee must have guessed what I was thinking because she stepped back and put a Boston fern between us.
“What do you suppose is going on with Uncle Ernest?” she whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“He says he sent Belinda away for her safety but nobody knows where she is. It’s just peculiar, that’s all.”
“I think that’s the point—that nobody knows where she is,” I said, looking around for a way out.
“Yes, well, there was that incident with the bees, you know, and then all of a sudden, she’s gone.” Deedee glanced behind her and leaned closer. “The police have been asking questions, too, since they found that skeleton over there in the cemetery.” She shrugged. “Haven’t you ever wondered what really happened to Rose?”
Cousin Violet took that opportunity to announce to one and all that she thought she knew who was behind all the things going on around here.
The room became as quiet as if she’d asked for organ donors. Judge Kidd, who had been dribbling salted nuts into his mouth, stopped with his hand in midair; Ma Maggie’s glasses slid down her nose and Grady and Casey, who had been shifting furniture about to make room for everybody, dropped a heavy armchair somewhere near my foot.
Deedee looked at me and rolled her eyes, and Uncle Lum and Aunt Leona just tried to laugh it away.
Uncle Ernest wandered in about then with the guest book he’d brought from the funeral home and wanted to know why everybody was so quiet.
“Cousin Violet says she knows who killed Ella and hid Belinda’s purse!” Deedee told him, not even trying to supress her giggles.
“What about that skeleton, Violet?” Goat spoke up. “Reckon you know who put that there, too.”
“I didn’t say I knew who did it! I said I thought I knew who did it,” Violet said. “And I have evidence, too.”
“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Ma Maggie stood stiff as a starch-dried shirt. “Violet, you’ve gone too far. This is no time to be silly.”
“Murder isn’t silly, Maggie Brown!” Violet glanced quickly at me and I knew I had to jump in soon.
“I think we’ll let the police take care of that, Vi,” Uncle Ernest said. “Now, why don’t we all help ourselves to some of this wonderful food? I’m tempted to start with dessert myself.”
“Where’s your evidence, Cousin Violet?” I asked, grinning. “Bet I know where you’ve hidden it.”
“That’s for me to know and you not to find out,” my cousin said, drawing her pudgy self up as straight as possible.
“I saw you out there in the toolshed. What have you got in there? You’ve locked it away in that shed somewhere, haven’t you?”
“Certainly not!” Violet marched off in a well-rehearsed huff and the rest of my relatives lit into me at once.
“Kate! What in the world were you thinking of teasing Violet like that?” My grandmother gave me a look that would freeze a sunbeam.
“Kathryn, I’m surprised at you,” Uncle Lum said.
Uncle Ernest just looked sad and shook his head. I was glad when Aunt Leona grabbed my hand and led me away to help in the kitchen.
As soon as I could get away, I crept to the telephone in the hall and called my friend at the Bishop’s Bridge Bulletin to ask if he’d heard anything more about the skeleton they’d dug up next door.
“Why, Kate, sure is good to hear your voice after that scare you gave us the other night!” Charles Hollingsworth’s voice sounded kind of rusty but nice. “As a matter of fact, I did hear something about that—sort of secondhand, you might say.” He lowered his voice. “If you repeat this, please don’t give the source, as I’m not supposed to know. The policemen who were talking weren’t aware I was around—if you know what I mean.”
“In other words, you were eavesdropping?”
“Guilty.” He paused. “Kate, the skeleton wasn’t that of a woman as we suspected. It was a man. Been there close to forty years, they think.”
“A man? Are you sure?”
He laughed. “Well, I didn’t examine it or anything, and wouldn’t have known the difference if I had, but that’s the latest word. I think the sheriff was kind of surprised, too.”
I thanked him and went back to see if I could find Violet after her shocking announcement and abrupt departure, and discovered her on the back porch with a plate of peach cobbler in one hand and a slab of pound cake in the other.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” I asked. “People will be wondering where you are.”
She dabbed her plum-colored lips with a paper napkin. “Then let ’em. I’m keeping an eye on the toolshed . . . and for heaven’s sakes, keep your voice down, Kate! I don’t want anybody to know I’m out here.”
If a person could bellow in a whisper, my cousin Violet did, and if anybody had been within twenty yards of the toolshed, they would’ve heard every word she said.
“After what we said in there, I don’t think anybody will come close to that place in broad open daylight,” I told her.
Violet laughed and nudged me with a hefty elbow. “But just wait until tonight! Fooled ’em good, didn’t we?”
“We’ll see,” I said.
I went inside to give Ma Maggie and Aunt Leona a break with hostess duties and was grateful that some of the neighbors had taken over in the kitchen. Uncle Ernest, his friend Goat and Uncle Lum, along with several other men, had made themselves comfortable on the front porch with glasses of something that looked like iced tea, but I knew darn well it wasn’t. I was glad when Marge came by with Jon and Hartley a little later to see if she could help. A friend had taken Darby and Josie, along with her own children, to an afternoon movie, she told me.
“You can keep me company and tell me who some of these people are,” I said. “They seem to expect me to remember that their sister went to school with my mother in the third grade, or that Aunt Somebody-or-Other was a bridesmaid in my grandmother’s wedding.” I wanted to tell my cousin about Violet’s far-fetched plan, but if it didn’t work out, I knew I’d never hear the last of it. I did tell her what I’d found out about the skeleton belonging to a male.
Marge directed a new arrival to the kitchen with a plate of sliced ham before replying. “Really?” she said. “Well, that’s kind of a relief, isn’t it? I mean—we thought it might’ve been—you know.”
“I know,” I told her. “So where do we go from here?”
“We don’t go anywhere, Kate McBride, so don’t even think about it.” My cousin stepped back and frowned at me, turning her head to the side so that a strand of bright hair fell across one eye. “You aren’t cooking up some crazy scheme, are you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve had enough excitement,” I said, feeling that surely nothing would come of Violet’s wild plan. Still, I was relieved to see Burdette bouncing up the steps so I could change the subject. “Here comes your hubby,” I said. “Uncle Ernest says he’s to take part in the service tomorrow.”
Marge nodded. “Ella earmarked several Bible verses for him. Thought a lot of Burdette, she said—even though he is a ‘heathen’ Baptist!” My cousin shook her head and smiled. “Poor Ella,” we said together.
By late afternoon visitors had thinned and we were running out of places to put all the food. Deedee had left earlier to collect Cynthia from pageant rehearsal and Marge and Burdette followed soon after. I managed to entice Cousin Violet from her back-porch sentry duty long enough to join us for an early supper as Ma Maggie and Uncle Ernest planned to stop by the funeral home before going to my grandmother’s for the night. Formal visitation was scheduled at Bramblewood after the service the next afternoon.
“Maggie and I have some things to discuss and I’ll be late getting home, so please don’t wait up for me,” Uncle Ernest told us at supper. My grandmother looked at him kind of funny but
didn’t say anything, and I think I was the only one who noticed that he carried a small overnight bag with him when he left.
Thank heavens Violet stayed out of sight until Lum and Leona, tired after a long day, went upstairs early, and Grady had taken off to visit a friend he’d known in high school. I didn’t blame him for not wanting to hang around Bramble-wood. I wouldn’t be here myself if I hadn’t been fool enough to go along with Violet’s crazy scheme.
“Lord, I never realized it took so blasted long to get dark this time of year!” Violet said as she paced back and forth in the dusky kitchen. I had finally convinced her we could keep an eye on the toolshed just as well from inside.
It was after nine and, so far, nobody had approached the shed. I hadn’t seen Augusta or Penelope all day, but I had a feeling they weren’t very far away—or I hoped they weren’t.
“What makes you think Uncle Ernest is in some kind of danger?” I asked. “If you think you know who’s behind all this, I wish you’d share it with me.”
Violet rattled the ice in her glass of lemonade. “When I’m sure, Kate, when I’m sure. I just have a nasty feeling, is all.”
“You better have more than a feeling to make me miss another night of sleep,” I told her. I didn’t add that I had an uneasy sense that something was going to happen tonight, too.
My cousin finished her lemonade and poured herself another glass. “Are there any more of those cheese straws Cecilia Butterfield brought over? All this waiting’s making me hungry.”
I sat by the window and listened to Violet munch. Tonight she had worn dark purple so she wouldn’t be easily seen in the dark. Earlier I had telephoned Josie to tell her good night and she had asked if her dad had called. It broke my heart to admit I hadn’t heard. “I imagine we’ll hear something tomorrow,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. But I was beginning to grow as worried as I was angry. If Ned had left the hotel the day before, he should have been in touch by now. And in spite of my resentment, I found myself praying that nothing had happened to my husband.
The Angel Whispered Danger Page 17
