Rest in Peace, Miss Aggie (The Misadventures of Miss Aggie)

by Frances Devine

  I heard the roar of Miss Jane’s ancient Cadillac as she pulled into the garage, followed by Frank and Miss Evalina’s new car. He’d bought it when they got married but wouldn’t part with his pickup truck, which stayed parked most of the time. I glanced at my watch. Three o’clock. I’d have time to take Buster for a walk before I had to get ready for dinner. Mabel had offered to stay and serve, but I’d told her she didn’t need to. We’d put everything on the sideboard buffet style, and I was sure Miss Jane would help me.

  I walked into the foyer to see all five of the seniors piling in. I hadn’t heard Miss Aggie’s Lexus. I was surprised she’d opted to go to the center with the rest. Most days she insisted on being in the big middle of whatever was going on at Pennington House.

  “Victoria, is Jack Riley still coming tonight?” Miss Aggie asked. Since she’d found out his adopted granddaughter, Samantha, was her own niece, they’d become friends. They talked on the phone often, and in June, Miss Aggie had visited the family in Germany. I still wasn’t convinced he was totally innocent in all the goings-on at Pennington House. Or that he hadn’t dealt in stolen property during World War II. But I’d try to reserve judgment for now.

  “Yes, ma’am. They’ll be here at six thirty, dinner at seven.”

  “Oh dear. That’s very late.” Miss Georgina’s voice trembled.

  “Georgina, don’t be silly,” Miss Aggie retorted, hands on hips. “You know we always eat at seven when we have guests.”

  Martin darted a venomous look at Miss Aggie and opened his mouth, then shut it and turned to Miss Georgina. “If you want to eat at six like we usually do, I could take you to Hannah’s or the steak house in Caffee Springs.”

  Pink washed over Miss Georgina’s plump cheeks. “Thank you, Martin. That’s very kind. But I wouldn’t want to miss hearing more of Mr. Riley’s stories.”

  I grinned. This would be interesting.

  “Fine. I didn’t wanta go anyway. Just trying to be nice.” Martin’s face flamed. “Don’t know why you want to listen to that windbag, though. I doubt half them stories of his are true.”

  Miss Jane snorted and headed to her room, following Miss Evalina and Frank, who were halfway up the stairs.

  Miss Georgina twisted her hankie, misery in her pale blue eyes. “I guess we could go to Hannah’s if you want to, Martin.”

  “Naw. I don’t want to.” Martin stomped off to the rec room.

  Taking pity on the sweet lady, who stood staring after Martin with brimming eyes, I patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about him, Miss Georgina. He’s just a bit jealous, I think. He’ll get over it.”

  “Jealous? But why?”

  I laughed. “Because Martin is sweet on you, honey, that’s why. You’re a might pretty lady, you know.”

  “I am?” A blush washed over her face, and her eyes shone.

  “Of course. Now why don’t you go rest awhile before dinner and let him stew a bit? It’ll be good for him.”

  Delight filled her eyes. “Thank you, Victoria, I believe I will.”

  I grinned as she waltzed up the stairway. Scarlett O’Hara had nothing on her.

  A black-and-white cat zipped across the Edisons’ yard and around their shed. Buster barked with excitement and raced after it, dragging me along like flotsam. “Buster, slow down!” A pain shot from my wrist to my shoulder as the leash tightened against my hand, yanking me hard. I knew if I didn’t do something, I’d end up being dragged across the ground on my rear end, so I loosened my hand and dropped the leash. When he realized he was free, he took off, the leash trailing after.

  It would be useless to try to keep up with him, so I headed back to the sidewalk and leaned against an oak tree to catch my breath.

  “Yoo-hoo! Victoria!” Mrs. Miller waved from her car window, then turned into her driveway. Maybe she’d go on inside. I could hope, at any rate.

  I groaned inwardly as she slammed her door and started across the street in my direction. Of course, she had imparted an interesting piece of information about the horse theft. Sort of a thin lead, but at this point anything was better than nothing.

  “Hello, Mrs. Miller. How are you this afternoon?” At least she wasn’t gasping for breath this time.

  “Fine, fine. I’m fine.” She waved her purse at me. “But I have something else for you. I knew there was another article about Mr. Anderson’s prize horse.”

  “Oh?” I glanced around. Where in the world was Buster?

  “Yes.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of copy paper.

  “Here. Take a look at this.” Her nod could only be called triumphant. Apparently she’d realized I hadn’t taken her accusations about Clyde seriously.

  I took the paper, gave it a quick glance, then did a double take. Clyde Foster Arrested for Horse Theft.

  I skimmed the article. “Did he serve any time for it?”

  “No, some shyster lawyer got him off. But he was guilty, all right.”

  I held the article out toward her, but she waved it away. “You can keep that. I have two more copies, and if I need more, I’ll go back to the library.”

  “Thank you. But I still don’t see how it could be related to his death. Surely you don’t think old Mr. Anderson could have killed Clyde.”

  “No, but guess who I saw at Hannah’s the night before Clyde’s body was found?” She pressed her lips together.

  “Who?” I asked, impatient with her dramatics.

  “Gabe Anderson, that’s who.”

  Okay, that was interesting. Gabe, Mr. Anderson’s youngest son, was known to have a violent temper. This deserved looking into.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Buster slink around the corner. I turned and sent him a glare. Head down, he walked slowly to me and shoved his woolly head under my hand.

  “All right, you reprobate, I forgive you.” I rubbed his head and grabbed his leash.

  “So what are you going to do about this, Victoria?” Once more, Mrs. Miller stood, hands on hips. I figured that must be her favorite pose.

  “I’ll look into it, I promise. Thank you for the informa- tion.” I smiled and turned to go. “I really need to get home now. We have guests coming for dinner.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “Yes, I know. What is Jack Riley doing back here so soon?”

  Now, how did she know it was Mr. Riley? Because she knew everything, that’s how. With her around, we didn’t need the Gazette.

  Mabel’s fried chicken had been a great success. But the caramel pies were the crowning moment. I was hard-pressed not to close my eyes and sigh when I put the first bite in my mouth. Or to make ummm sounds. Maybe I should have saved this and served something else for dessert. Ashamed of the selfish thought, I forced myself to leave the last bite on my plate.

  Phoebe and I removed the dishes and refilled coffee and tea for those who wanted more. Jack was seated between Miss Aggie and Miss Georgina. I darted a glance at them every few minutes to make sure he wasn’t being rude to them. Oh, who was I kidding? Crook or not, Jack Riley was the epitome of courtesy and kindness.

  Miss Aggie was oohing and aahing over a new picture of her great-niece he’d brought her. Martin, seated across from them, sent furtive glares in their direction. A giggle started somewhere in my sternum, but I managed to stop it before it reached my lips. I still wasn’t used to the tentative courtship going on between Martin and Miss Georgina.

  “Victoria, could we go into the parlor?” Miss Jane asked. “It’ll be more comfortable in there, and Mr. Riley could share more of his adventures with us.”

  Martin snorted, then coughed in a poor attempt to cover it up. Georgina sent him a worried glance and shook her head.

  “I have a better idea. How about the great hall?” I figured it would lend a backdrop of ambience to Mr. Riley’s stories.

  Murmurs of assent met my suggestion, so we were soon seated on the deep leather chairs and sofas in front of the nearly wall-sized fireplace.

  “It’s very kind of you to a
rrange this welcome dinner for me, Miss Storm.” Mr. Riley flashed a smile in my direction. The kind that had probably melted the hearts of many a lady in his younger years. Even I could feel the charisma. Eighties or not, he definitely had finesse and charm. No wonder Martin was jealous.

  “Mr. Riley, how is Jenny? We haven’t heard from her in a while,” Miss Jane said.

  Jenny Simon, a.k.a. 1940s film starlet Jeanette Simone, was Mr. Riley’s ex-wife and still good friend. While she lived here for a few months the year before, we’d discovered she had a daughter by Miss Aggie’s older brother, Forrest Pennington. Jack had adopted the child, and no one knew who the real father was. I still got confused trying to untangle all the threads in that skein.

  “Jenny is wonderful. She recently moved to Berlin so she could be near Helen and Samantha. I must admit, I find it very comforting to have her there.”

  I curled up in an oversized chair and tried to focus on the stories the octogenarian was relating. The seniors, including Martin, seemed mesmerized.

  “So you hid on the train?” Frank’s voice held admiration and incredulity.

  Jack nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “At one of the stops, I managed to slip off. I found the underground unit I was searching for and told them about the trainload of Jews being transported. I hoped they’d be able to do something, and they did their best. They managed to get the train stopped, killing most of the SS guards. The prisoners were all freed and scattered to the nearby woods.” He paused, and pain clouded his eyes. “We later heard they’d all been rounded up and sent to the camp on the next train.”

  “Did any of them survive?” My voice sounded strange, and I shivered, wrapping my arms around my shoulders.

  “From the information we received, everyone was sent to the gas chambers.” He spoke quietly, and I wondered how he could tell such a story with no emotion. Then I saw his eyes and inhaled sharply. Oh yes, he felt emotion. Grief lay deep in those piercing eyes.

  But if he was grieving, that knocked down my suspicions that he’d swindled wealthy European Jews of their property. Unless, of course, he’d come to regret it later. A wave of déjà vu washed over me, and I knew why. I’d been around this circle of thoughts before, the last time Jack Riley was here. I was determined, this time, to resolve the issue.

  Chapter Seven

  Miss Jane’s black monster careened wildly around the sharp curves while I held tightly to the seat on the passenger side. I should’ve had my head examined. Why in the world had I agreed to let her drive to Caffee Springs?

  “Jane! Please be careful.” The terrified screech from the backseat was evidence enough that Miss Georgina felt the same.

  “I’m being careful. Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, Georgina.”

  Since the weather had warmed back up the last few days, we’d decided to drive over and try the new tearoom for lunch today. We all needed to get away from the constant reminder of the two-week-old murder.

  The tires squealed as Miss Jane pulled into the sparse parking area at the side of the tearoom. We got out on wob- bly legs. That is, mine. Miss Georgina’s were wobbly, too. Miss Jane’s confidence in her driving skills never ceased to amaze me.

  A sign over the door of the light blue and white build- ing read Ye Olde Tea Shoppe.

  “Why, what a lovely name,” Miss Georgina said, with true amazement in her voice.

  Miss Jane made an insulting sound with her teeth. “Not very original.”

  I had to agree, but as we went inside, the scent of cinna- mon, vanilla, and other spices wafted across the room. The atmosphere was charming enough that the overused name could be forgiven.

  The hostess, attired in a ruffled cap and apron, ushered us to a small round table, covered with a lace-trimmed cloth.

  We scanned the small menu, and when the waitress arrived, we ordered soup, sandwiches, and a pot of tea.

  After promising to be back with our drinks, she left the table. Georgina leaned forward. “How are your wedding plans going, dear?”

  I sighed. “Oh, we’re so far behind in our planning. I’m starting to think we’ll never get everything done on time.”

  “Well, for goodness’ sake, Victoria, why didn’t you ask for help?” Miss Jane frowned and looked almost insulted.

  “Thanks, Miss Jane. I’m sure I’ll need your help when the day gets closer, but there are things Benjamin and I need to discuss and take care of.”

  “What’s the holdup?” With her usual no-nonsense approach, Miss Jane had gotten right to the point.

  “It seems every time we try to get together for an hour or two, something comes up.”

  “Dear, you’re just going to have to make it a priority. Plan a time, and don’t allow anything to interfere.” With an emphatic nod, she turned and smiled at the waitress, who’d brought our tea and soup. When she put my bowl in front of me, the aroma of the tomato and spinach set my saliva glands working ahead of time. I wasted no time getting down to business.

  At just the right moment, our sandwiches arrived.

  “Oh dear, are these sprouts?” Miss Georgina asked. “I hate sprouts.”

  “Here, I think they switched them,” I said, holding my plate out to her. “The one I ordered had sprouts. This one must be yours.”

  Gratefully, she accepted her toasted ham and cheese while I retrieved my chicken pecan salad on a whole wheat roll with loads of sprouts.

  My back was to the door, but when the bell tinkled and I heard Miss Georgina gasp, I glanced over my shoulder to see who had entered.

  “Why, it’s Aggie and Mr. Riley.” Miss Jane waved in their direction.

  Mr. Riley waved back, and with a nod to the waitress, guided Miss Aggie to our table. He grabbed a nearby chair, and they joined us. Miss Aggie didn’t appear too happy to see us, but I didn’t think she’d be rude in front of Mr. Riley. “What are you two doing here?” Miss Jane beamed at them.

  “We’re here to eat lunch, Jane.” Sarcasm dripped from Miss Aggie’s lips.

  Wrong again, Victoria.

  Miss Jane turned her attention to her tuna sandwich. Miss Aggie was the only one who could hurt her feelings. She’d practically been Miss Aggie’s shadow when they were young and still seemed to need her approval.

  “Miss Brody, I hope while I’m in Cedar Chapel I’ll get a chance to taste your fabulous apple dumplings.”

  Way to go, Jack Riley.

  Miss Jane brightened. “I’d be happy to make some for you. Next time you come to dinner.”

  He grinned. “I hope that means I can expect another dinner invitation. I do enjoy the company at Cedar Lodge.”

  “Of course, Mr. Riley. How about Sunday, after church?”

  That would give me a chance to watch him and listen to his stories and perhaps catch a discrepancy somewhere. Oh dear, there I went again with my suspicions.

  “Thank you, Miss Storm. I’ll be there. Can I bring anything?” Oh so charming.

  “Only yourself.” I could charm, too.

  When Miss Jane, Miss Georgina, and I had finished our lunch, we excused ourselves and left. Obviously the other two had gone out alone for a reason. And I needed to stop being so suspicious. After all, they shared an interest in Samantha.

  We headed out of town, and Miss Jane took the back way to Cedar Chapel instead of the main highway.

  I had a pretty good idea why.

  As we drew near the private road that led up to Penning- ton House, Miss Jane slowed.

  “Jane, what are you doing?” Miss Georgina’s voice held an impatient whine.

  “Oh, I thought with Aggie in Caffee Springs for a while, maybe we could take a peek at Pennington House.”

  “Now, Miss Jane. You know Miss Aggie wants us to wait until the opening so we’ll be surprised.”

  “Oh, all right. But I think it’s silly. A hotel is a hotel. And a restaurant is a restaurant. What’s the big secret?’

  She sped up but looked longingly up the hill as we passed the road.

  When
we got back to the lodge, Mabel met us at the kitchen door.

  “Bobby is bringing my little Sarah this weekend. I’m so excited.”

  “Wonderful. When will you bring her to meet us?” I smiled at the happiness in her eyes.

  “Bobby’s going to enroll her in school Monday, and she’ll ride the bus over here afterwards. Are you sure you don’t mind?” She tossed me a worried glance.

  “Of course I’m sure. It’ll be nice to have a child here.” I said it with more conviction than I actually felt. But the alternative was to lose Mabel, and that simply wouldn’t do.

  Miss Georgina and Miss Jane headed up to their rooms to nap. Buster followed at my side and nudged my hand as I headed for my office. “What is it, boy? Cabin fever?”

  Buster smiled. Okay, I know dogs don’t smile. But mine does.

  I reached down and scratched him behind the ear. “I could use a walk, too.”

  At the word “walk,” Buster raced back into the kitchen and began tugging at his leash. I grabbed it before he could pull the hook from the wall and snapped it to his collar.

  Hoping to avoid Mrs. Miller, I headed in the other direction toward the park. There was only a scattering of people there, and they waved and went about their own business. With Buster running beside me, I jogged around the half-mile track, then did another round.

  Breathing heavily, I flopped down on a bench. How did I get so out of shape? I used to run five miles every morning. Of course, that was past tense. Surprise struck me. It had been nearly two years since I’d exercised on a regular basis. Occasionally the seniors and I visited the fitness center, but most of the time I spent the whole hour in the hot tub. Well, that would change. I didn’t really have time to go to the fitness center every day. Maybe I should buy a treadmill. Then I could jog when I had a half hour or so to spare.