by A. L. Duncan
Ilene took his hand in both of hers and smiled. “I’m quite certain he will be pleased at all the attention.”
“What say?”
“Doctor Collier is with him currently, visiting on the back lawn over a light breakfast.”
“Breakfast, you say? Well, I don’t mind if I do.”
Ilene glanced to Bartley, who eased up beside her. “I’m sure we can arrange a plate. Bartley will show you the way. It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Fricky.”
“Likewise, Mrs. Eldridge. Likewise.”
Ilene glared at Janie as she followed Fricky.
The day was pleasant and crisp with only a nip in the wind and a slightly overcast sky to remind one how Mother Nature clung defiantly to the last days of spring. Bartley escorted Fricky to the freshly clipped lawn off the veranda, where the Major and Dr. Collier were enjoying strawberries and English muffins.
Liz brushed through the French doors and stepped onto the veranda with a tray of hot tea and breakfast for Fricky. She froze when she heard a whisper from the bushes. Liz stood stock still and moved only her eyes as she looked for the source.
Janie popped up from behind the stone balustrade. “Do me a favor?”
“What are you doin’, scarin’ me to death like that?” Liz hissed. “Might pop the baby right out!”
“Sorry. Listen, I need to keep an ear on the conversation out there. Any good spots?”
Liz puffed out her chest with pride. “You bet yer bangers! If gossip was a bloody profession, I’d be runnin’ me own manor by now.”
Janie grinned. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Can you climb?”
“Climb?”
Liz plodded out to the table, then had Bartley hold her tray as she exchanged the fresh teapot for the empty one. The men carried on their conversation as she went about her business pouring tea and clearing the plates. Janie was positioning herself in the arm of a large pine, as Liz casually glanced over her shoulder. Janie waved her to turn back around. She had a great view of Dr. Collier, and a profile on the Major. Fricky was face on, raising an eyebrow to her. She nervously withdrew so she wasn’t so apparent a figure.
“You have another visitor, Major,” said Liz.
The Major promptly grabbed his cane and labored to his feet. He extended a hand in polite welcome to Fricky’s smart grin. Dr. Collier frowned, but continued chewing.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Chief Inspector Fricky,” the Major said in greeting. “And retired now, I hear.”
“Happily so, yes, yes.” Fricky took the Major’s hand. “Now I’ve time to relax and indulge in the things I’ve always dreamt about, like slow sponge baths with pretty Tahitian girls and fetching the highest priced Dominican cigars. After six years, I’m still chasing the romance.”
The two laughed, and Collier forced a grin. The Major sat down and gestured to the doctor. “You know Dr. Horatio Collier, don’t you?”
“Yes. Of course.” Fricky sat down. Laying his hat on the lawn beside his seat and reached for one of the lemon colored forsythia sprigs that rested in a bowl.
Dr. Collier peered above his newspaper. “Alistair,” the doctor mumbled.
Fricky fumbled with the sprig as he slid it through his buttonhole. “Saint George’s dragon, I haven’t heard my first name spoken in so long, I’m almost shocked to hear it.”
The Major rested both hands atop his cane. “So, old boy, what brings you to Aria Manor—business or pleasure?”
“I’ll wager a little of both,” suggested Collier.
“Actually,” said Fricky, between bites of strawberry, “I thought you’d like to know what a tourist found in the old Merlin cave, near the cove.” He squinted in the Major’s direction. “They were searching for buried treasure, I suppose.”
Dr. Collier barked a laugh. “They’ll not find anything in that place, Merlin or otherwise. Maybe that old bag of bones pirate, if there ever was such a thing. Good God, Denys. How long have you frightened your children out of their wits using that old story?”
“About thirty years, I’d say,” Fricky interjected coolly. “Isn’t that about right, Major?”
The Major met Fricky’s eyes but he did not speak.
Fricky stirred milk into his tea. “You see, Scotland Yard has become quite curious about the recent discovery of the identity of that ‘bag of bones’, as you called it.”
Dr. Collier’s teacup stopped halfway to his lips. “Scotland Yard? Why on earth would the Yard be interested in something like that? It would make more sense that archaeology students at a university would pick over that old skeleton.”
“I’m surprised at you, Dr. Collier. You being a medical practitioner and all, I’d think surely you’d have been curious enough to check out a two-hundred-year-old pirate.”
“Who’d want to go rooting about some dark old cave?” Collier slathered lemon curd on his muffin. He frowned and shook his head. “Foraging is for hogs. I’ve never set foot in such places. To be truthful, I never knew there actually was a skeleton in that cave.”
“Ahh, I see,” Fricky breathed.
“Denys is one of the best storytellers I know.”
“Just how does that story go, Major?” Fricky asked. “Mind if I have a go at it? A tale of a pirate, a stranger, so swarthy and mysterious we fail to see the slight vein of goodness in his nature. It seems that his likely crime would have been to steal something more valuable than a family’s riches. The hand of death that inevitably came for the pillager was motivated by jealousy and revenge. It would have been the hand of someone who had once trusted him and embraced him as a dear friend.” Fricky eyed the Major. “Am I close?”
The doctor had been listening intently. “Well, I’ve not heard that version.”
“I’ll hear no more talk of this,” the Major growled.
“Aren’t you interested in knowing the identity of this woman?”
“The pirate’s a woman?” exclaimed Collier. “Really?”
The Major began to shake; his breathing grew labored. “What interest could I possibly have, Chief Inspector? It’s nothing to do with me.”
Dr. Collier said, “Denys, perhaps you should lie down.”
Ignoring the doctor’s professional regard, Fricky pulled a gold cufflink from the pocket of his blazer. Sapphire up, he slowly slid the piece across the table until it rested in front of the Major. “I do believe you dropped something, Major.”
The Major’s hand shook as he scrambled for his cane. “Where did you find that?” he asked hoarsely.
Fricky was cool. “Don’t you remember? Should I tell you the story?”
“That’s enough stories for today, I think,” said Dr. Collier, going to assist the Major. “Can’t you see, he’s in no condition to continue. You’ll have to see the Major at another time, Fricky.”
The Major shook uncontrollably and rubbed his head. He swallowed the pills that Collier handed him.
The doctor motioned for Bartley to take the Major. “See that he gets to bed immediately,” Dr. Collier ordered. “I’m right behind you, Denys.” Turning abruptly, he scowled at Fricky. “You, sir, should be ashamed of yourself.”
Fricky feigned innocence. Disregarding the lecture he pointed at Collier’s muffin. “You going to eat that?”
“You’re a find, Fricky,” Collier hissed. “Why don’t you go back to your pub and fiddle? Always stirring up trouble. Why can’t you leave the dead buried!”
He grinned crookedly through bites of Collier’s muffin. “I would, except the dead keep popping up with no help from me.”
Janie’s pine limb cracked and broke. She followed it to the ground with a thump, quickly rising to her feet before Dr. Collier’s bewilderment.
“Cleaning out the dead...limbs,” she added quickly. “Dead limbs, sticks, and twigs and needles.”
As Collier marched away, Janie noticed the cufflink had disappeared. “Do you have the cufflink?”
Fricky shook his head. “The seed has been pl
anted.”
FRICKY AND JANIE stopped by the east lawn where Liz was clipping a few shafts of color from the pillows of chartreuse lady’s mantle around the fountain.
“Any clues yet on our other little hidden gem, by chance?” asked Fricky in his dawdle.
Janie cast an eye toward Liz, knowing he was asking about the search for the ruby. “No. Not yet. So, now what do we do?”
He shrugged. “Now, we wait. I doubt we’ll have to wait much longer.”
Liz’s flower basket fell to the ground. Janie looked over and saw Liz had both hands clutched tightly about her stomach.
“I wish somebody else would ’ave waited a bit longer,” Liz gasped in pain.
Janie quickly grasped Liz’s arm. “I thought you weren’t due for two more weeks.”
“That’s what I mean!” Liz went pale. “I think my water broke.”
Fricky jumped back at her announcement. “Great Caesar’s ghost, you’re not having that baby now, are you?”
Liz’s knees buckled and Janie struggled to keep her standing. “Not if I ’ave anything to say about it.”
“Come on, try and walk,” Janie instructed. “We’ve got to get you to a bed. Fricky, go find Collier. I’m taking Liz to the loft.”
Fricky frowned. “With the goats?”
“It’s living quarters now.”
“Oh.”
“And find Michael, my ’usband,” Liz called over her shoulder. “’E’s going to be a father.”
For longer than two hours, they waited, now and again hearing Liz’s painful growls and curses echoing above them. Michael paced the aisle along the stalls, anxious and pale, as the others looked on with varying degrees of anticipation.
Anna was assisting Dr. Collier, so Ilene fetched a tea tray. Behind her, Bartley carried a tray of watercress and cucumber finger sandwiches. Ilene offered tea to Michael, but he quickly shook his head. She nudged the tray toward him again, and he reluctantly accepted a cup along with a handful of sugar cubes.
Amused by his nervousness, Ilene turned to Janie, who was leaning against a stall rail with her arms crossed over her chest. “Heard anything yet?”
Another howling groan and curses cut into the thick tension like a bull being branded, and Janie shot a look at the planking above them. “Just more of that.”
“Oh.”
Janie scrutinized a cucumber sandwich. “You make these?”
Ilene smiled coyly. “That’s about the only thing I can do in the kitchen, I’m afraid.”
Janie took a bite and rewarded Ilene’s efforts with praise. “Umm! The best little sandwich I’ve ever tasted. I think you missed your calling, Mrs. Eldridge.”
Any other talk was drowned out by a baby’s cry.
Janie stopped chewing. “Now that’s different.”
Breathless, Michael posted himself at the foot of the stairs and craned his head about to catch even a glimpse of movement. Anna scampered down the steps, stopping midway to beam joyously at the expectant lot.
“It’s a girl,” she said. Another shrill cry startled her. “Ooh...” She turned and climbed a couple of steps and peeked up over the landing. She gasped as she ducked back down to her captive audience. “Twins. She’s got twins!”
“Good God,” breathed Fricky.
Michael sighed heavily as Peanut and Gil patted him on the back. One minute he was smiling, the next, his limp body fell to the ground.
LIZ NAMED HER girls Elsa and Eve. Michael was a very proud father who nevertheless quickly grew to despise diaper changes. Gil, in his uncanny wisdom, had predicted twins for Liz for some time and had secretly built a second cradle.
A week later, a small group of friends and family were attending a celebration in Liz’s honor. The library was ringing with laughter and good wishes when Bartley brought in a telegram and package.
Telegrams never boded well, and Ilene’s hand shook as she accepted the envelope. “It’s from the British Consulate in London,” she said. After just staring at the paper for several moments in the silence of the room, she tore it open and read the brief paragraph.
“With sincere condolences,” breathed Ilene, her brow knit. “Oh, my God.”
Janie went to her side. “What is it?”
“There was an incident at Krems in the Wachau wine valley along the Danube.” Ilene’s voice cracked. “Nazi hand grenades wounded twenty-nine and killed one.”
“Why was a notification sent here?”
“It’s about Sam.”
Janie’s thoughts flashed to her meeting with Sam the evening of the party. “Sam Tisdale?”
“Yes. His name is listed as the one who died. He must have listed us as his next of kin.”
The stunned silence lengthened until Bartley cleared his throat. “There is also a package for you, madam. It’s from Vienna.”
Ilene and Janie removed themselves to the dining room where Ilene asked Bartley to meet them with the package. Awaiting his exit, she removed the modest, brown wrapping paper. She sat down in a Captain’s chair, and rested the small box in her lap. Janie took a seat beside her and glanced at the postmark on the box. “He sent it a week ago. He must have had an idea that he wasn’t going to come back.”
“How does anyone know that?” Ilene said.
Janie shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What on earth would he be sending me?”
Ilene’s eyes slid back to the package and she reluctantly opened it. The contents stirred her heart. Among the few personal items were Teddy’s pocket watch and a framed photo of him. Ilene sniffed back tears as Janie reached for the small note.
“‘I thought you would want his things. They have kept me sane through all of this,’” Janie read. “‘I thank God for Teddy. And I thank God for you and Carolyn, and all you’ve done for our cause. Good luck, Carolyn. His Majesty’s loyal servant, Samuel Tisdale.’”
Ilene brushed her fingers over Teddy’s reserved smile in the photo. “His eyes would twinkle with such joy when he laughed.” A chuckle choked into a painful sob. “I miss my Teddy so much.”
Janie leaned over and squeezed Ilene’s hand.
LATER, FRICKY FOUND Janie in the living room retrieving a bottle of sherry for Anna. When he spoke, he startled Janie.
“Well, now. I never thought I’d see this room again.”
Bottle in hand, Janie twisted about to face him. “I understand Denys has never stepped a foot in here since the night his wife died.”
“Can you blame the poor chap?”
“No. I guess not.”
Fricky brushed a finger over the rich mahogany lines of a Victrola, his brow furrowed in thought. “I have an idea that might get him back in here.”
Janie eyed his mischievous grin with caution. “What did you have in mind, Fricky?”
“A reenactment.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Tomorrow is the anniversary of Miriam’s death. I am certain he will be obsessed with that. A mind divided from itself needs only a small push in the proper direction.”
“He’s not going to confess, Fricky.”
“Exactly the point, Miss Vaughn. It’s been far too many years of denial for him to be able to make an admission now. What we must do is send him over the edge. The illness has already made him quite unstable. Fortunately for us, it might be just the ally we need for a task such as the one we’re about to attempt.”
Janie grimaced. “It’s a long shot.”
“Indeed it is. That’s why every detail must be perfect: the time of day, a fire in the hearth, that particular piece of music on the Victrola, if you know what it is. Everything in its proper place. We’ll even send the servants away.”
Janie set the bottle on a table and pondered over the notion. “Just a minute. Aren’t you concerned about what it could do to the Major to relive the episode?”
“He’s been doing that for thirty years.”
“Still, this doesn’t seem moral.”
“Stop living
in this lifetime for just a moment, hmm?” Fricky suggested. “And start living the woman you were in the previous one. Our situation is precarious. Whenever the Major looks at you, it’s not Carolyn Vaughn he sees, but who you were then. He is utterly uncertain as to which time he’s living in.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “It might do you some good, as well. It might help you recall more of what happened that evening. The only other spoke in the wheel is to convince Mrs. Eldridge of the idea.”
“No, absolutely not,” Janie protested. “We’re not involving Ilene. It’s too dangerous!”
“But without her, we lose our most important element,” Fricky reasoned. “Don’t worry. The Chief Inspector and I will be close by. We’ll not let anything happen to either one of you.”
“And how do you propose we convince Ilene to go along with this scheme?”
Fricky laughed. “I already have, somewhat.”
“You...convinced her Denys is guilty?”
“No.” He averted his eyes. “Actually, I convinced her to cooperate in order to prove to us that her father is innocent. If for no other reason than her well-being, I hope to God she’s right.”
ILENE PLAYED A piece on the piano that Janie didn’t know.
Janie suddenly stopped pacing the length of the sitting room. “What are you playing?”
“Sous le dôme épais. The flower duet.” Ilene stopped playing. “Not very well, I’m afraid. I’m a frightful mess.”
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“All of it. None of this would have happened had I not come to Aria Manor.”
Ilene stood up. “How can you be so sure?”
“What do you mean?”
Ilene glanced down at the dress she wore. It was her mother’s cranberry evening gown, the one that had been worn the night of the murder. It had been carefully cleaned and the bullet hole had been clumsily stitched. They had slipped it from the case in her father’s room a few hours earlier.
