by Joan Hess
“Instructions? From whom would she hear instructions, Mrs. Adler? Did she have secret meetings with someone?”
Theo forced himself to listen in silence. The police lieutenant had made it clear that he was in command of the scene, and that he would welcome no interference from the spectators. A squadron of uniformed officers searched the mountainside both above and below the site of the body. Thus far no one had discovered anything worthy of mention. The hawk had left an hour ago.
Miriam seemed to shrink into the rock. “Essie heard directly from God, or at least she thought she did—and that He listened to her as well. It was a harmless sort of mental disorder.”
“Her death did not lack harm!” Lieutenant Gili snapped. “It was an unfortunate accident that she should fall to her death in the desert, without anyone to hear her cries or help her. She should not have wandered about the desert as if she were a bare-footed bedouin. The desert is filled with dangers. She was a young girl. The two are like oil and vinegar—they do not mix.”
“Oil and water,” Theo said to no one in particular. To his immediate regret, he realized the lieutenant had swung around to glower at him. “Oil and vinegar make salad dressing,” he explained with an apologetic shrug. “Vinaigrette, I believe it’s called.”
“Why did you approach the body, Mr. Bloomer? Your presence has complicated the job for my men, who must now identify and dismiss your footsteps, along with those of the desert scavengers.”
Theo resisted the urge to hang his head. Miriam needed protection from the arrogant little man with the oversized mustache and hooded, reptilian eyes. “I felt it my duty to confirm that she was dead,” he said calmly. “Then I moved away as carefully as possible and waited for your arrival, Lieutenant Gili. I regret any inconvenience to your men.”
“You could not see from a distance that the young woman was dead? I myself could see the condition of the corpse from the ledge above our heads. But this is to be expected, since I am trained to be observant, and you are a mere civilian and a tourist with no experience in these things. I have had the rank of detective for over ten years, and I have studied forensics with one of the best—”
“Could you stop this childish nonsense!” Miriam interrupted, rising to her feet. Her hands were clenched at her sides, as if to keep herself from scratching the detective’s face. “The poor child is dead; her body has been lying there God knows how many hours, while animals ripped at her. She was a dear and harmless person who deserved better than this. I would like to return home to call a general assembly so that I can tell the others of the accident. May I leave, Lieutenant Gili, or shall I sit here while you strut about recounting the highlights of your résumé?”
The mustache trembled, and Theo could have sworn a forked tongue shot out for a fraction of a second. Narrowing his eyes to slits, the lieutenant said, “When I have completed the official examination of the scene of the accident, I myself shall inform you and permit you to leave. Until then, you and Mr. Bloomer will retire here.”
Theo climbed on a metaphorical white horse and donned an equally metaphorical white Stetson. “If it was an accident, why should the lady and I be forced to sit in the hot sun any longer? She may be on the verge of a heat stroke. Are you willing to take responsibility?”
Gili balanced on the balls of his feet, no doubt wishing he were several inches taller than Theo so that he could peer down with disdain. As it was, he had to settle for a shrug. “You can take the lady up to the jeep, but stay there until I give you permission to leave the scene. One of my men will accompany you.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Gili,” Miriam said, smiling faintly at Theo. “What about the—the body? Will it be taken to Jericho? When can we make funeral arrangements?”
“I must complete my investigation. You will wait in your jeep and I will speak to you when I am readied.” The lieutenant turned away to bellow at the officers worming their way down the wadi.
Theo helped Miriam climb up the path to the ledge, and then up the wider path to the jeep. It was parked squarely in the sun. The young officer who trailed after them agreed that the shade might be more comfortable—if they promised not to escape—and allowed them to sit beneath a granite overhang that provided some relief.
“I just cannot believe it,” Miriam said, sighing. “Poor Essie has been roaming the desert alone for years. Although she never told anyone, we all knew she had secret hideaways all over the area for whatever crazy rituals she performed. Why would she fall?”
“Perhaps it was dark,” Theo suggested. “The desert must be quite dangerous when one cannot see loose rocks. She simply lost her footing and fell off the ledge.”
“There weren’t any loose rocks on the ledge. If it had been anyone but Essie, I could agree with your theory, Theo. But Essie was a damned gazelle.” Miriam blinked furiously as her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t know why this had to happen,” she added in a broken voice. “I should have found her sooner. Her poor face, after the animals …”
Theo handed her his folded handkerchief, and tactfully looked away until she had dealt with her tears before saying, “There were no loose rocks on the ledge. I will admit that I also looked. But I do think you’re overestimating her skill in moving about the desert. It is possible that she lost her balance on the ledge and tumbled over before she could recover. Or she might have—”
“Why was she here? I didn’t think anyone knew about the cave except for Gideon and Hershel. They never would have mentioned it to Essie.”
“Essie did rather glide about like a shadow. Gideon and Hershel might have said something without realizing she was within earshot.” He thought about her unsolicited version of a conversation in the kitchen. “People did, I suspect, fail to notice Essie.”
“I suppose so,” Miriam said, unconvinced. “I’ll ask Gideon if he said anything to anyone about the cave, although I doubt that he did. The only reason he told me was that I happened to see him covered with the powdered guano. He wasn’t pleased to delay a shower long enough to tell me about the cave.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t remember, Theo. Two or three months ago, right after they returned from the university. I wouldn’t have taken much interest in it if he and Hershel hadn’t seemed so secretive about it. Motherly concern—or an effort to have a polite conversation with a surly son.”
“They must have done a preliminary exploration. In that Hershel’s an archaeologist, he would have been excited about the possibility of finding a scroll.”
Miriam leaned back against the rock and shook her head. “The boys have been crawling around caves since they were ten years old, and the only thing they ever found was a piece of bone. It turned out to be from a donkey. They were devastated. If Hershel had thought this particular cave had any promise, he would have been on the telephone to the university in Tel Aviv two minutes later. He knows the law, and so does Gideon.”
Lieutenant Gili’s scarlet face popped over the edge of the path. “I have ordered my men to remove the body, Mrs. Adler. You must wait until it is released, and then you will be allowed to make the proper arrangements.”
“Released? Does that mean there is to be an autopsy?”
“In all cases of violent death, we must satisfy ourselves that we have arrived at the truth. In this case,” he added, punching a button on his chest with his thumb, “I have already determined that the woman died of a tragic accident. Had she not been encouraged to enter the desert alone—without a companion or safety equipment—she would not at this moment be dead. Your kibbutz has been negligible.”
For a brief moment, Miriam looked as if she might protest. But she lowered her eyes and said, “I suppose you’re right, Lieutenant Gili. Essie was disturbed, but we thought she was happiest when she was alone with her voices. It was negligent of us.”
“Yes,” Gili said. A smile twitched the mustache. “I found a little trinket in the girl’s hand,” he continued, now the ever-gracious victor. “You or her
relatives might want to keep it as a memory.” He pulled a thin gold chain out of his pocket and handed it to Miriam.
Theo studied it as it hung from her fingers. The chain was made of delicate, curved links. A heart-shaped locket swung back and forth at the end. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he suddenly realized whose picture would be found inside the locket. The face of a handsomely aristocratic boy standing in front of a yacht, Cape Cod in the background.
Dear Biff, future fiancé whose virtues included impeccable breeding and well-aged money, had presented it to Dorrie after an especially meaningful regatta victory. It had been dutifully cherished since then, either from tenderness or from the desire to publicize the relationship to nubile competitors.
In any case, it belonged to Dorrie, whose welfare was in his hands. Whose future was to be determined by his ability to restore her to her proper environment. Whose mother would be incensed if Dorrie were involved in anything so tasteless as murder.
Miriam stared at the locket as though Gili had handed her a thin, golden viper. “In Essie’s hand? How could that be, Lieutenant Gili?”
Lieutenant Gili shrugged, still riding on his momentary victory. “Some boy from her past, Mrs. Adler. It is of no consequence to my investigation. Young men do present romantic baubles upon occasion. It gives them an advantage when wishing to take advantage of a maiden’s modesty. Open it so that we can see the rogue.”
Theo winced. Dorrie hadn’t presented the locket to Essie in a burst of generosity, nor had she hiked into the desert to drop the locket on the ledge. Caldicotts went from pram (with aproned nannies) to limousine (with uniformed chauffeurs), but they walked only across tennis courts and French restaurants. That left two equally unpleasant theories. Either Dorrie had come to the cave with someone—such as Gideon—or Essie had taken the locket while cleaning Dorrie’s room.
He felt an elbow nudge him. Miriam showed him Biff’s minute round face, then snapped it closed and returned it to the lieutenant. “I’ve never seen the boy,” she said dully.
Gili let the locket dangle in a hypnotic sway. “And you, Mr. Bloomer? Have you any idea who the boy might be?”
“I’ve never met him,” he replied evenly. Aware that Gili’s eyes were bright with suspicion, he added, “I am beginning to feel faint. It must be the heat—and the shock of finding the body. I’d better return to my room to rest.”
Miriam looked sympathetic, Gili merely supercilious. For the moment, it didn’t matter. Theo needed to speak to Dorrie.
10
When they returned to Kibbutz Mishkan, Miriam went to call a general assembly of the members to tell them about Essie. Theo went to find Dorrie. The sun was high above his head, and the heat severe. She would not be any place that wasn’t air conditioned, any more than she would be collecting turkey droppings or bagging dates. Unthinkable.
He tapped on her door and waited. When the door opened, he stepped back in surprise. The thing that stared back at him had Dorrie’s blue eyes, but the rest of its face was covered with a black veneer that was not Dorrie’s carefully monitored complexion. The turban looked familiar, but not enough so to convince Theo that he hadn’t stumbled onto a movie set.
“I—I thought—the wrong room, so sorry—I,” he sputtered helplessly.
“Uncle Theo?” A slit formed in the black mask. The voice was Dorrie’s, if not the face.
“My dear, what has happened? Are you ill?” Theo nervously approached to peer at her coal-black cheeks and forehead. “Is this some sort of medication?”
“Oh, the mud, I’d forgotten about that. Come on in, Uncle Theo; you’re as pale as a jib sheet. It must be the sun.” She stepped back and held the door open. “It’s perfectly safe,” she coaxed, a mischievous smile dimpling the mud.
Theo allowed himself to be escorted into the lair and situated in a chair. Dorrie, or what he could identify of her, sat down across from him and said, “Please let me get you a glass of water, Uncle Theo. I am concerned about your pallor.”
That certainly wasn’t her problem. He dutifully sipped from an encrusted glass until he felt more composed, then said, “I do not wish to offend you with personal remarks, Dorrie, but your appearance is—less than normal. What is the purpose of smearing that particular substance on your face? Are you intending to appear in a minstrel show?”
The mask crinkled in amusement. “It’s a mud pack, a facial. There’s some weird sort of black mud found only on the shore of the Dead Sea, and it’s supposed to do miraculous things for one’s skin. Which is not to say my skin wasn’t clear before I put it on, but I thought I’d try it anyway. You never know when a pimple might decide to explode. I’ll wash it off now if it disturbs you, although I really ought to leave it on for—” she consulted her twenty-four carat wristwatch “—nine and one-half more minutes.”
“I would appreciate a premature cleansing, Dorrie. Something has happened, and I must speak to you about it. I’m not sure I can ignore your appearance in order to do so.”
The blue eyes narrowed above the black nose. “Give me a minute, Uncle Theo.” She went into the bathroom.
While Theo listened to the sound of water gurgling in the sink, accompanied by a few coos of admiration for the end result of the peculiar treatment, he gazed around her room. The bed was unmade; the dresser littered with the same paraphernalia. More clothes had been discarded in untidy piles on the floor. A fashion magazine lay on the floor near the bed, its cover girl beaming steadily through a soda bottle.
Dorrie came out of the bathroom with rosy cheeks. “What happened that’s more important than eleven dollars worth of mud?”
He told her about the discovery of Essie’s body in the wadi below the cave. “How horrible,” she said, stepping distractedly on the cover girl’s chin as she sank down on the edge of the bed. “Poor Essie may have been a loon, but she tried her best. What happened to her?”
“According to the police, it was an accident. They are presuming she fell off a ledge in front of a cave. Have you ever been there, Dorrie?” Theo squinted at her through his bifocals.
“In this heat? I’ll trust you’re joking, Uncle Theo; I’ve barely made it to the dining room and the beach. I certainly haven’t been crawling around some miserable cave with a bunch of snakes and bats. The idea is repugnant.”
“That presents an unfortunate complication, I fear. Your locket was found in Essie’s hand.”
“You must be kidding! My locket is in my jewelry box, which is around here somewhere.” She began to dig through an alpine mass of clothes, muttering to herself as blouses and frilly underthings flew over her shoulder. “Here it is! See, Uncle Theo, my locket is—gone.” She closed the box and sat back on her heels. “I don’t remember too well, but I think it was here the last time I looked.”
“I recognized Biff’s picture,” Theo said as he removed a satin stalactite from his foot with two fingers and dropped it beside his chair. “I should have immediately told Lieutenant Gili to whom it belonged, but I wanted to speak to you first.”
“You don’t think I pushed Essie off the side of a mountain, do you? I haven’t gone outside the fence since I arrived two weeks ago, except for an ungodly trip to Masada. I now understand why all those Jews killed themselves; I seriously considered it myself after two excruciating hours with a pedantic guide who knew every last detail about every last old rock. He and Simmons would make perfect pen pals, if not bedfellows. In any case, why would I want to hurt Essie? She was schizo, but that was hardly my problem.”
“I know that, and I know you had nothing to do with her accident. However, you will have to tell the lieutenant that the locket belongs to you.”
“But he’ll want to know why she had it—and I have no idea,” she protested, sprawling across the bed with an exasperated expression. “It will be utterly dreadful. I think I’ll pack my suitcases and hijack the next camel out of here. To hell with Judith; she can stay here with her beloved until her skin flakes off and blows away.”
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br /> Theo tried for a stern tone. “You have an obligation to assist the police in their inquiries, Dorrie. When was the last time Essie cleaned your room? I would imagine she simply saw the locket lying about and picked it up without thinking.”
“Two days ago, I think, but—” Dorrie clamped her mouth shut and rolled over so that her face was hidden. “You’re probably right, Uncle Theo,” she added in a muffled voice. “Essie saw the locket lying on a table and lifted it. Biff has exquisite taste; it runs in his family. The locket is charming, and she was attracted to the glitter. That’s what I’ll tell the horrid policeman.”
“The horrid policeman is at the kibbutz to talk to various people. Shall I accompany you, my dear?” The only way to be sure she did not carry through with the camel threat. At least one Caldicott ancestor was hanged for piracy, although he reputedly preferred rum and distaff slaves to camels. And despite Nadine’s refusal to acknowledge the rumor, great-granduncle Bloomer had left the world under similar circumstances.
Dorrie was on her feet, arms akimbo.
“Now? I really don’t have anything to wear on short notice, and I don’t have any makeup on whatsoever. I’m sorry, but I simply cannot be seen like this. It’s out of the question.”
“Come along, Dorrie. As Francis Bacon said, ‘No pleasure is comparable to the standing upon of the vantage ground of truth.’ You’ll feel much better after you talk to the police.”
The turban was unwound with deliberate slowness, and the hair fluffed into a semblance of its usual artlessness. Then, muttering under her breath, she snatched up a pair of sunglasses and crammed them in place. “I’m going, I’m going. But as the bishop said to the hooker, ‘It’s not all it’s purported to be.’ I just hope no one sees me without mascara; I feel naked.”
Lieutenant Gili was holding court in the dining room. Behind him the uniformed officers formed a row of sweaty, well-ripened courtiers. The kibbutzniks, gray and stunned, were huddled in small groups around the room. Hadassah and Naomi, the young women from the laundry, were there, as were the factory supervisor, the bartender, the waitresses from the restaurant and the other kibbutzniks Theo had seen leading quiet, contented lives behind the rolls of concertina wire. As any extended family might do, they had drawn together in a moment of grief.
