A collective gasp came from our group. Hattie began to cough. Clara tried patting her on the back. When the excitement was over, Hattie blotted her eyes with a napkin and said “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But here goes. . .”
“Cyrus Vanderfield and I were an item when I was a young college girl. He was a playboy and got around if you know what I mean.”
We indeed knew what she meant and didn’t want to interrupt the narrative.
“He grew tired of the party girls by the time I met him and wanted to ‘settle down.’ The family were not having any part of it. They had come into a great deal of money because of some invention thing-a-ma-jig and planned to move into New York society. I suppose they were afraid of being labeled Georgia hillbillies or something worse. We had been seeing each other regularly when I found a lump in my breast. A biopsy showed a malignancy and to be on the safe side, I underwent a double mastectomy which in that day was radical surgery.”
Hattie dabbed her eyes and didn’t look any of us in the eye. Perhaps because we were all tearing up and Clara was attempting to stifle her sobs but not doing a very good job at it.
“While I was recovering,” Hattie continued. “I received a note from Cyrus that he wanted to marry me, but his family was dead set against it and threatened to disown him. He promised to work it out; I just had to give him some time.”
Hattie took a sip of lemonade, stared at the wallpaper, and stoically continued, “That’s the last I heard from him for years. Then one day out of the blue, he knocked on my door like no time had passed at all. He had experienced a loveless marriage arranged by his family. There were no children. The family was in process of paying her off and hiring a divorce lawyer. Cyrus swore he was miserable the entire time. Finally he grew brave enough to buck the family and find me which wasn’t hard since I hadn’t gone anywhere. Our relationship was one of those rare ones where we could pick up where we left off. Cyrus and I spent hours catching up on our personal histories. He made several trips back and forth from New York and we always met outside the town so as to avoid any gossip until his divorce was final.”
“I found out I was pregnant and Cyrus’ family hit the ceiling. They threatened to take me to court if I didn’t get rid of the child. Cyrus was being countersued by his soon-to-be ex-wife. The whole thing was a scandalous mess. I was into my late forties. I figured that it was my last chance to be a mother. No one was going to take that away from me. His family and I arrived at a compromise: I would go away on an extended vacation, have the child, and put him/her up for adoption. The Vanderfields would pay for everything.”
By this time, I didn’t know if I could stand anymore. I was weeping and so were the rest of our little cadre. Pauline brought us a box of napkins and we were rapidly going through them. But Hattie was dry-eyed and continued. But her shoulders noticeably stooped a little and the sadness of her soul permeated the room. Pauline sensed what was going on even though she didn’t know the details. The café sign had been flipped to “closed.” I overheard Pauline tell Jolene, the waitress on duty, to take an early lunch.
I wasn’t sure whether to encourage Hattie to continue or just sit in silence for a few moments and let her narrative sink in. Hattie had given up what she desperately wanted all her life – being a wife and mother. That was a sacrifice so extreme the grief was hard to imagine.
“Ever since then I’ve had my FBI and CIA relatives keep an eye on that child. She was adopted and grew up to be a wonderful lady,” Hattie related. With that bit of news, she focused her attention on me.
“And I am happy to relate that she is your sister, Roxy. Debra, your sister, is my daughter. I’ve been following you for years. I’ve kept up with you and Tom and your various ministries. I knew about Debra’s failed marriage, about Murray’s birth, and all the rest. And just so you know, it’s no coincidence that you and Tom are at First Church. I arranged it when the time was right. The fact that Tom is an excellent minister and leader was an extra bonus.”
10
I drove home from Pauline’s still numb. Hattie’s story rang true but I was still filling in the missing pieces, the time line, my life with Debra and our parents. If only I could call Mom or Dad but sadly we lost them years ago. Hattie befriended me from Day One. She was one of my best friends. I felt her affection was genuine yet it was planned.And another thing. Do I reveal this to Debra or leave it to Hattie? I hated to put Hattie through a retelling of the worst time in her life. But after all, it is HER story not mine. If Cyrus is or rather was Debra’s biological father, did she already know?
OMG. I had a horrible thought. Could Debra have hated Cyrus enough to kill him? If anyone had motive she did. Should I have taken the elderberry wine to the sheriff and have it tested for fingerprints?
Then again there was the love/hate relationship between Cyrus and Hattie. She admitted to just having met him for coffee the day before he died. I felt like I was caught up in some afternoon soap opera with the audience knowing more than the characters.
Should I tell Tom what I knew about the whole mess or let him find out as this mystery unfolds? Records. There should be records. What did our parents do with the records concerning Debra’s adoption? Forty years ago when a woman gave up her baby did they keep meticulous records like they do now? Especially if a rich and influential family was involved in making things disappear. Did my family know Debra’s biological information? My brain is awash with scenarios. In the meantime, who killed Cyrus? Was it an accident? Premeditated? And why?
I decided that Debra and I should have a heart-to-heart. Should it be just the two of us or should I have a witness? What if she is guilty? What on earth would I do if she was convicted of something so horrendous as murder?
11
“Debra, we need to talk,” what an original lead in I thought. When I came through the back door and put my keys on the counter, she was in the kitchen preparing a marinade for chicken breasts. Debra brushed back her curls and washed her hands.
“Sure. Just let me dry my hands and grab us a couple of glasses of iced tea.”
She was so damn cheerful. Why did I have such a wonderful sister? She’d experienced a lot of crappy things in her life and always bounced back.
I took my glass from her and led the way to the back screened in porch. I sat in my favorite wicker rocker with the pastel pink cushion. She chose the glider and slipped her feet out of her golden flip-flops. This was a rare afternoon with no rehearsals. Debra decided a long weekend would benefit everyone and considering the bombshell Hattie just delivered she was right.
And speaking of, right on cue the front door latch clicked and the hum of wheels along with “knock knock” alerted us to visitors. Hattie came rolling into the front room followed closely by clicking heels of my sisters in adventure – namely Clara, Amy, and Suzy. Hattie sped through the kitchen, hallway, and straight to the back porch. I didn’t have a chance to say a word. They must have anticipated my next move and followed me home as back up. Debra greeted the group in her usual hospitable way.
“Well, hello Miss Hattie, Clara, Amy, Suzy,” Debra began, “surprised to see all of you, but happy as always.”
I waited for the other shoe to drop.
“We’re having iced tea. Would any of you care for some?” she continued.
“I think after we have our little chat, we’ll need something a little stronger,” Hattie spoke for the group. Everyone took a seat and leaned in.
“I have something important to tell you Debra,” Hattie began. She retold the story of her young romantic involvement with Cyrus, his unapproving family, along with her breast cancer scare and surgery. Tears streamed down everyone’s face even though we’d heard it all before. Hattie however remained composed. When she got to the part about her pregnancy and the Vanderfields making her give up the baby for adoption, we were all sobbing.
It was like an avalanche of emotions as Debra stared at Hattie then at me. By this time my mascara had melted to my chin a
nd I was brushing away tears with my forearm. Debra was in shock as I predicted, but I could tell she was also calculating.
If Debra didn’t know about Hattie and Cyrus, then she wouldn’t have a motive. And if she did know, then she was a damn good actress in her own right!
Debra took a sip of her iced tea, sat back, and didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. She replaced the glass on the coaster and looked at me.
“Did YOU know?” she asked me.
“Not until about an hour ago,” I said.
“Then Cyrus is my biological father and Murray’s biological grandfather?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Hattie said. “I want you to know that I hated giving you up for adoption. I was foolish but I had to do that or surrender to an abortion. One thing I refused to do was lose track of you. Through my contacts in the FBI and CIA, I’ve kept tabs on you throughout your life and hence I knew all about Roxy’s life too. I viewed it as having two daughters instead of just one.”
Debra was fighting back the tears but still trying to absorb the bombshell that had just landed in her lap. Clara searched the house for tissues which she brought back and distributed.
“Who else knows?” Debra asked after dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose.
“Just all of you, the lawyers, and of course the Vanderfields,” Hattie replied.
And it was then that I remembered the elderberry wine in the medicine cabinet. Was it a good idea to bring that up? Who bought it and why?
I excused myself amid the sobs and retreated to the bedroom. From there I made a beeline to the guest bathroom. I retrieved the wine bottle carefully covering it with a wash cloth in case we needed to dust for fingerprints.
There was no way I could be subtle with an elderberry wine bottle in my hand, so I just asked, “Why did you have this hidden in the bathroom cabinet?”
“Oh that!” Debra actually smiled. “It was supposed to be a joke. When I came into town I saw the posters about the community players doing Arsenic and Old Lace. I intended it as a gag present. But once you asked me to help with the play, I didn’t have the heart to give it to you. And when they found elderberry wine in Cyrus’ stomach, I was afraid I’d be a suspect in his murder. Besides it’s still sealed. It’s never even been opened.”
I looked at the cork. Debra was right I hadn’t noticed.
“Where did you find elderberry wine anyway? It’s rather an obscure find isn’t it?”
“Not at all. There’s a little winery right on Atlanta Highway. Felicia, Murray’s girlfriend told me about it. She said they make wine out of everything but grapes,” Debra informed us.
“What kind of wine would that be?” Suzy inquired.
“Well I noticed they had some mango, guava, coconut, and avocado for starters. I intended to go back for a wine tasting but with the play, I just couldn’t seem to find the time,” Debra sighed. “Now I don’t know when I’ll go back.”
“Well I do,” Hattie jumped in. “Let’s do a wine tasting now. It’d be the perfect thing to get us out of this blue funk. Cyrus would approve and we can do it in his memory. If he were here, he’d be leading the pack.”
We loaded up Scarlett and thanks to Debra’s directions, a few moments later we arrived at Scheibley & Sons Winery just outside Athena’s city limits. It was getting toward dinner time and I let Tom know that Debra and I were on a mission. The chicken breasts in marinade would have to wait for another night. This could be his oyster stew night, a dish he loved and made me ill to look at.
The wine menu gave us a choice of two whites, two reds, and a sparkling wine to taste. Maybe we should have a designated driver. Miss Meryl had strongly objected to the production of Arsenic and Old Lace because of using elderberry wine in the play – of course it wasn’t real wine, but she wanted the word ‘wine’ stricken. I explained to her that wine was in the original script and that Joseph Kesselring, the author, would not appreciate us changing it at this late date.
After much ado, she acquiesced but not before she’d discussed it thoroughly with all of the cast members. Miss Meryl had taught 90% of them so of course they would agree to anything she said.
All of us signed on and plunked down our $12 each. The cute barely twenty-one -year old behind the counter explained the swirl, smell, sip, and spit routine which grossed Clara out. Spitting is not in her vocabulary.
I chose a Hurricane White and a Peach Passion plus a Hurricane Red and a Coconut Starfruit Blush. The Sparkling Lychee was popular with all of us. When the tasting was over we got a beautiful etched glass as a souvenir. Clara was choosier sticking more to familiar avocado blends and berry selections. Suzy and Amy had had more experience so they went for the classics. Hattie sipped only a bit of hers and spit. She preferred the sparkling wines so the hostess substituted sparkling for the other selections. After all, it wasn’t like Hattie would be driving.
We chose a sparkling blend to pair with dinner and headed to the restaurant part of the winery. That’s when Suzy mentioned that she was nervous about the play and hadn’t eaten all day. That’s a ‘no no’ when you attend a wine tasting. Always do wine tastings with something in your stomach. Amy assured us that she would grab a dinner roll and see that Suzy ate it.
At the table, Hattie wanted to discuss Cyrus’ remains and plan a memorial service.
“Goot idee,” Suzy said as she laughed and reached for another glass of wine.
“That’s quite enough, sis,” Amy said and gently unpried her fingers from the stemware. “I should have warned you that Suzy rarely drinks and this is why.”
Hattie started laughing. Then we all started laughing. Even Suzy was laughing but she hadn’t a clue why. Amy spread a roll with butter and commanded her to eat it while we waited for our entrees.
“Now about Cyrus,” Hattie continued.
“I loved Cyprus. All those palm trees and sand and everything,” Suzy giggled.
“Not Cyprus. Cyrus. You remember the man in the window seat,” Amy whispered.
“Oh him. The man that was MURDERED!” Suzy said loud enough to turn every head in the place.
“That would be him,” Hattie patiently continued while lowering her voice. She probably hoped Suzy would take the hint, which of course she didn’t.
“Suzy, I do believe you’re tipsy,” Clara commented.
“Thanks for stating the obvious,” Amy said. She managed to get Suzy to eat most of her Alfredo Fettuccini while we discussed where to scatter Cyrus’ ashes and what kind of memorial to host.
Debra was quiet during all of the discussion. Finally she said, “I’d like to be in charge of the service with Hattie’s help of course. Or should I say with Mother’s help? I can see this is going to take a lot of getting used to.” She blushed and smiled but her eyes were watery and a single tear trickled down that flawless cheek.
If I knew anything about Debra, her emotions were full tilt and what we used to call a ‘hot mess.’ We finished our entrees and Suzy was fading fast. Suddenly she roused and in her ‘outdoor voice’ announced, “Roxy I think you should drive the van home.”
In a quieter tone, I said, “Yes, I agree.”
12
On the van ride back to Athena, Amy telephoned Tony.
“Suzy has a migraine and I think it’s best that she stay with me overnight,” Amy lied into the receiver.
“But I don’t have a migraine,” Suzy responded.
“You will honey. You will,” Amy said and stroked her sister’s hair. “Could you take us home first, Roxy? I have to check on George. We can worry about getting the van home later.”
“Sure thing.” I said. “Is George your new puppy?”
“Yes. Sort of. He’s not really a puppy.”
“Who’s George?” Hattie swirled around in her chair. “Did William force you into living in sin with someone?”
“No George is a just a pet that I’m minding for a friend,” Amy chuckled.
Amy and Suzy climbed out of the van and managed t
he few steps to the front door. Suzy waved good-bye and I’m sure the neighbors heard us.
“I’ll bring the van back on our way to rehearsals tomorrow,” I said trying not to be too loud. Debra was sitting in the passenger seat when I got back into the van.
“You know this doesn’t change a thing, sis. Except that you and I have a mom again,” I said. Clara passed around the tissue box one more time before I cranked the van.
Hattie spoke up, “Now that we have that bit of history out of the way. The Thursday Club has a mystery to solve. Who murdered Cyrus and why? But for now I’m not feeling well and I need to go the hospital.”
13
After a stunned second, we moved like we’d never moved before straight to Athena Memorial. A frazzled Clara kept repeating ‘oh my oh my.’ I telephoned Tom to meet us in the Emergency Entrance waiting room. Debra texted Howard and Derek to notify the other cast members.
After what seemed like an eternity in the waiting room, Dr. Eastman sought us out. Hattie was sedated and they were beginning to run tests. Tom and I had been in this very room many times waiting to receive the outcome of parishioners’ surgeries and test results. However, this time was different.
When Tom arrived, I filled him in on the days’ activities. He took a few minutes to process all the information we heaped upon him . . . that Debra was Hattie’s love child with Cyrus Vanderfield and how we had also served as our guardian angel hovering over us all our lives. . . you know stuff like that. He received the news like the professional he is.
“Honey. I can’t process all of this right now. When the crisis is past, we’ll sit down and have a long talk.”
For now the important thing was Hattie. We needed Tom’s strong hand and ministerial prowess to guide us through whatever was wrong with our beloved Hattie.
“Where’s Suzy and Amy?” Tom asked after surveying the waiting room. “And why is there a strong smell of coconuts?”
Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories Page 25
