An Unthymely Death

by ALBERT, SUSAN WITTIG

  “Both of you?” I asked curiously.

  “Yes. Our grandfather left it to us when he died. But I wanted to have my own home, so I sold my half to Howard. He always loved that house.”

  I gave her a searching look. “Did you feel comfortable with his plan to leave it to the Teen Center?”

  “Of course,” Hazel said. She began to pour the soap, which looked like pink whipped cream, into some small plastic molds. “Why shouldn’t I? Howard had served on the Center’s board ever since it began. It was something he felt passionately about. His daughter—his only child—started hanging out with the wrong bunch when she was a teenager, and was killed in a drag-racing accident on the old Austin highway. That was a long time ago, back in the fifties, but Howard always thought that if Felicity and her friends had had a place where they could dance and be with their friends, she might still be alive.” She set down the pan and began to press the soap firmly into the mold with her fingers. “Anyway, he left me the family jewelry and a sizable cash bequest.”

  “I see,” I said. It didn’t sound as if Hazel would have a reason to want to take that will.

  “I was a little concerned about how Mike might feel, though,” Hazel went on. “I was going to tell Howard that he ought to talk to the boy, but he began to cough and I didn’t want to trouble him.”

  “Who’s Mike?” Ruby asked.

  “Mike Rhodes, Howard’s stepson. We’re not very close, and I don’t know what plans Howard may have had for him. I do know that at one point, he’d talked about giving the house to the boy.” She frowned. “I’m not sure, but I think that’s how it was in the previous will. I don’t have a copy, though.”

  “I can probably get it from your brother’s lawyer,” I said.

  Hazel shook her head. “I’m afraid not. The lawyer who drew up the latest will is new. Howard’s former lawyer died some time back. But Mike probably has a copy, since he was the beneficiary. You could ask him.”

  Ruby and I traded glances, and I knew what she was thinking. Had Mr. Pennyroyal’s son made off with the new will, to make sure that the house would come to him?

  HAZEL PENNYROYAL’S ROSE SOAP

  Spray some small molds (try candy molds, which come in all sorts of pretty shapes) with non-scented cooking spray or grease with petroleum jelly. Grate 2 four-ounce bars of castile soap. Put the shavings into an enamel saucepan. Add 2 tablespoons of rose water and 12 drops of rose oil and heat slowly, stirring. When the soap has melted and the mixture looks like whipped cream, add 2 tablespoons of chopped red or pink rose petals. Quickly pour a small amount of the mixture into each mold, using your fingers to press the soap firmly into the mold so there are no air bubbles. Allow to harden overnight in the molds. Remove and let air-dry for a few days before wrapping.

  Hazel looked at us. “Why are you asking all these questions? Is Mike making a fuss about not getting the house?” She went to the sink to wash her hands, adding over her shoulder, “He’s a little hot-tempered and impulsive but he’s harmless, really. You don’t have to worry about him.”

  Maybe, maybe not. “We’re asking because both copies of the new will seem to be missing,” I said regretfully. “It’s important that we find at least one of them.”

  “Oh, dear!” Hazel turned around, a look of dismay on her face. “You can’t imagine that Mike would have—” She frowned. “As I said, he sometimes acts impulsively, but he’d never deliberately go against Howard’s wishes.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” Ruby said comfortingly. But when we left Hazel’s fragrant kitchen, we both knew where we were headed next.

  Mr. Pennyroyal’s stepson, a slender, middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and a ragged gray beard, lived in a second-floor apartment in a trendy, upscale complex. He answered the door in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, holding a shallow terra-cotta pot containing what looked like a miniature rosemary, bonsai-shaped. Through the patio door behind him, I could see a balcony crowded with plants—a wooden half-barrel filled with herbs, pots of daisies, even a rose growing up a trellis. Obviously, Mike Rhodes was a container gardener.

  “We’re friends of your stepfather,” I said, after I’d introduced Ruby and myself. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  Mike motioned for us to come into the living room and set down the pot with a thump. “Howard is dead. Died last week.”

  “We know,” Ruby said. “We’re very sorry.”

  “He was getting on in years,” he said brusquely. “It wasn’t unexpected.”

  “Still,” I said, “I’m know it’s a loss. Actually, we wanted to talk with you about his will.”

  “The will?” The frown deepened. “What about it?”

  “We understand that your stepfather originally planned to leave his house to you,” I said.

  “That was quite some time ago,” he said shortly. “Excuse me.” He turned on his heel and went out onto the patio.

  “He seems defensive,” Ruby whispered. “Maybe he’s hiding something—like the will!”

  I went over to look at the rosemary. Yes, I’d been right—it was a bonsai. Its thick trunk, exposed roots, and complex branch structure gave it the look of an ancient tree clinging to a cliff face, sculptured by the wind. “Maybe we just caught him at a bad time,” I said.

  Mike came back. “I was watering,” he said, a little more pleasantly. “Had to turn the hose off before it created a lake. Now, what was it you wanted to ask?”

  “The original will,” I said. “You were supposed to inherit the house, weren’t you?”

  Bonsai (pronounced bone-sigh) is the Japanese art of training a plant to resemble a full-size, ancient tree. The plants, which may be successfully maintained for several hundred years, are usually grown in a flat, shallow container. In traditional bonsai, long-lived, slow-growing trees are used, such as pine, maple, and elm, as well as holly and juniper, both of which are considered to be herbs. But many perennial herbs—germander, santolina, hyssop, southern-wood, rosemary, and thyme are good candidates—can be used to create an herbal bonsai. For a history of bonsai, ideas, and detailed instructions for turning your favorite herb into a work of art, see Herbal Bonsai: Practicing the Art with Fast-Growing Herbs, by Richard W. Bender.

  “No,” he said. “I mean, How- ard and I talked about that. But when he decided to give the house to the church, he gave me this place instead.”

  “This place?” Ruby asked, looking around. “He gave you this apartment?”

  He grinned. “Actually, he gave me the whole apartment building.”

  “My goodness,” Ruby said weakly. “It must be nice to have a wealthy stepfather.”

  “He was a generous man,” Mike replied. “I was fourteen when my mother married him—lucky for me. He probably kept me from—I won’t say ‘a life of crime,’ but he certainly helped to change my direction. I was a pretty impulsive kid when I was younger.” He grinned ruefully. “I guess I just didn’t know what to do with all my energy.”

  “Mr. Pennyroyal’s sister didn’t mention anything about a church,” I said.

  “Aunt Hazel?” Mike shrugged. “Well, maybe Dad didn’t discuss it with her. He was pretty undecided there for a while. He had other interests, too—the Teen Center, especially. He served on their board and he’d already given them money to buy some new computers. But in the will he showed me six months or so ago, the church was supposed to get the house.”

  “Which church is that?” Ruby asked.

  “The one just down the block from the house. The pastor is Juliet Giles.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I know Juliet. We’ll have a talk with her. By the way, that’s a great-looking bonsai. How old is it?”

  “I started it about five years ago,” he said. “I really enjoy bonsai—and all sorts of container gardening.” He grinned. “In fact, if Howard had given me that house, I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with that huge yard. I just don’t have the patience for vegetables.”

  We found Juliet Giles, the past
or of Mr. Pennyroyal’s church, trimming the Bible garden beside the old stone building. Juliet and I have known one another since I came to Pecan Springs some years ago, and she’s been a friend of Ruby’s for longer than that. She’s in her late thirties, a petite, dark-haired woman with large, dark eyes. When she saw us coming, she straightened up, a sprig of dill in her hand.

  “Have you come to see how your garden has grown?” she asked with a smile.

  Ruby turned to me. “Your garden?”

  “I helped design it,” I said.

  “Don’t be so modest,” Juliet said with a laugh. To Ruby, she added, “China was the moving spirit behind the garden. She suggested the plants and sketched out the shape for us. Members of the congregation pitched in to do the planting.”

  “It really looks good,” I said. I glanced around, admiring the many plants we had found room for. Garlic, mint, mustard, flax, and lots more, even a small fig tree. “Have you picked any figs yet?” I asked with a smile.

  “Not yet.” Juliet grinned and pushed her hair back. Her eyes were twinkling. “But I certainly have faith that we will, in God’s good time.”

  “I’m afraid we haven’t come to look at the garden,” I said regretfully. “I’m sure you know that Mr. Pennyroyal has died.” People who love to garden and who also enjoy reading and studying the Bible sometimes create Bible or Scripture gardens, small gardens especially designed to showcase herbs and plants mentioned in the Old and New Testaments.

  • Dill (Anethum graveolens) is mentioned in Matthew 23: 23, where it is called “anise.” In biblical times, it was both a culinary and a medicinal herb and was taxed under Talmudic law, indicating that it was grown and sold commercially. You may grow dill as an annual or a biennial. Sow the seed in sandy, moist soil where you want it to grow. If you don’t harvest the seeds, you’ll have plenty of dill next year!

  • In Numbers 11:5, garlic is recalled with fond wishful-ness by the wandering Israelites as one of the foods they ate in Egypt: “We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt . . . the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic.” The Egyptians also used garlic cloves as a form of currency.

  • In Luke 11:42, mint is mentioned as subject to taxation: “You tithe mint and rue and herbs of all kinds, and neglect justice and the love of God; it is these you ought to have practiced, without neglecting the others.” Biblical scholars believe that it was the horse mint (Mentha longifolia) that is the one referred to in this passage. The leaves were used in brewing tea, and the plant was used medicinally.

  • Matthew 17:20 begins, “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed . . .” The mustard referred to here is probably black mustard (Brassica nigra), which was cultivated for its oil. The seed husk is very hard, which makes it possible for the seed to lie dormant for decades, even a century or more, before conditions are suitable for sprouting. The seed became a metaphor for endurance and faith.

  • Flax, from which linen is woven, is the oldest known textile fiber and one of the earliest plants cultivated in Egypt and Palestine. Production was a lengthy process, involving submersion in water, drying, combing, spinning, and weaving. The first mention of it in the Bible is in Genesis 41:42: “And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph’s hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen. . . .”

  • You probably already know how fig leaves were used in the Book of Genesis (Genesis 3:7). The fig tree itself is one of the most important plants of scriptural times, and it is mentioned fifty-seven times in the Bible. It was extensively cultivated for its fruit. Since apples don’t grow in the Near East, some scholars believe that the fig is the “apple” of the biblical Garden of Eden.

  Juliet nodded. “We had the funeral here yesterday. He’ll be missed.” She glanced at Ruby. “You’re on the board of the Teen Center, aren’t you? You must be very excited about moving into the house.”

  “There’s a problem,” Ruby said. “The will can’t be found.”

  “The will?” Juliet looked incredulous. “You mean, Mr. Pennyroyal’s new will is missing?”

  “Right,” I said. “And unless it’s found, it looks as if the estate will be probated under the old will, and your church will inherit the house. We hoped that perhaps you might have an idea what could have happened to the will.”

  “Uh-oh,” Juliet said softly. “I hope you don’t think—”

  “Of course not!” Ruby exclaimed, horrified. “We know you wouldn’t do a thing like that!”

  Ruby might feel confident, but I wasn’t so sure. Not that Juliet would stoop to steal the will, of course. But other people in her congregation might want to make sure that the church inherited the house. In fact, now that I thought about it—

  “Juliet,” I said, “isn’t Mrs. Fisher a member of your congregation?”

  Ruby whirled to look at me, a question in her eyes. “Mrs. Fisher? Mr. Pennyroyal’s housekeeper?”

  “She’s one of our most dedicated members,” Juliet said. “As a matter of fact, I think she was the one who suggested to Mr. Pennyroyal that he leave the house to the church. I’m afraid she was a little disappointed when he decided to give it to the Teen Center instead.” She frowned. “But China, you can’t possibly think that Mrs. Fisher would have—”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry, Juliet. We have to consider every possibility. The person who made off with the will knew exactly what he—or she—was doing.”

  “Good Lord,” Juliet breathed.

  “I don’t think God had anything to do with it,” Ruby replied.

  “If you ask me, it was the other guy.” She made a face. “You know who I mean.”

  Juliet was frowning. “I just can’t believe that Mrs. Fisher would have taken those signed copies,” she said. “She wanted the church to have the property, yes—but she wouldn’t have done anything counter to Mr. Pennyroyal’s desires. I’m certain of that. And she wouldn’t even think of taking something that didn’t belong to her.”

  “Then perhaps,” I said, “you can suggest another possibility.” Juliet was silent for a minute, looking around the garden as if for inspiration. “Tell me what you already know,” she said.

  “There were two copies of the new will,” Ruby replied. “Mr. Pennyroyal signed them, and Mrs. Fisher and a neighbor witnessed his signatures. Then Mrs. Fisher put both copies of the will into the desk in the library.”

  “In the library?” Juliet asked. A frown puckered between her eyes.

  “That’s right,” I said. “What’s this all about, Juliet? What do you know that we don’t?”

  She answered my question with another. “How much do you know about the opposition to Mr. Pennyroyal’s plan?”

  Ruby shrugged. “We understand that some of the neighbors are opposed to the idea of the Teen Center taking over the house. They don’t want a bunch of kids around.” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess they’re worried about noisy parties.”

  Juliet nodded. “We’ve discussed the issues in some of our church meetings, but we haven’t been able to change their minds.” She looked at me. “Mrs. Jordan, who lives next door to the Pennyroyal house, is the most outspoken of all the neighbors. In fact, I think she’s the one who’s organized the opposition.”

  “Mrs. Jordan?” I looked at Ruby. “Wasn’t she the other witness to Mr. Pennyroyal’s will?”

  “That’s right,” Ruby said.

  “I don’t want to accuse anybody,” Juliet said, “but—” She pressed her lips together.

  I could tell by the look in Juliet’s eyes that she knew something important. “Let’s go talk to Mrs. Jordan,” I said. “Will you come?”

  “Yes,” Juliet answered. She looked around the peaceful garden. “Although I can think of a few other things I’d much rather do.” She laughed sadly. “Pulling weeds, for instance.”

  “Oh?” Ruby asked. “It’s that bad, is it?”

  Juliet nodded. “Maybe I’d better tell you what I suspect.” And that’s what she did, as we walked
down the street to visit Mrs. Jordan.

  “Why, hello, Pastor Giles,” the woman said, opening the door. She was tall, with a sharp, angular face framed by thick gray hair, her eyes magnified by thick-lensed glasses. She wore a hearing aid in one ear. “Would you like to come in?”

  “These are my friends China Bayles and Ruby Wilcox.” Juliet paused and added, meaningfully, “Ruby serves on the Teen Center’s board of directors.”

  “On what?” Mrs. Jordan asked, fiddling with her hearing aid.

  Juliet leaned forward. “On the Teen Center’s board of directors,” she repeated distinctly.

  “I . . . see,” Mrs. Jordan said. She glanced at Ruby, biting her lip. “Well, I . . . On second thought, maybe you’d better come back later. I’m pretty busy just now.” She started to close the door.

  Juliet put out her hand. “I think we need to talk now, Mrs. Jordan,” she said firmly. “We won’t take much of your time.”

  Reluctantly, Mrs. Jordan stepped back and Juliet went inside. Ruby and I followed the two women into a small old-fashioned living room. The slip-covered furniture was draped with crocheted doilies, the walls were crowded with framed photographs, and the room had a musty smell, as if the windows hadn’t been opened in years. If there were a noisy party next door, I thought to myself, she probably wouldn’t hear it.

  Ruby and I sat down on the sofa, and Juliet took a chair. “May I bring you some tea?” Mrs. Jordan asked nervously, still standing.

  “Thank you, but no.” Juliet was resolute. “I think you know why we’ve come.”

  Mrs. Jordan perched on the edge of a chintz-covered chair. “Why, no,” she said. She glanced at Ruby, then looked away. “I really can’t guess.”