I closed my eyes tightly. How could we wait that long to find out if the blood was Miss Aggie’s? And what if there were someone else’s prints? Would that prove foul play?
“Vickie, are you going to tell the seniors?” At the sound of Benjamin’s voice, I opened my eyes.
The seniors? How could I tell them such horrible news? But if I didn’t, what if someone else told them?
“Does anyone else know?” I asked.
“No, just Dad and the four of us. Oh, and Sheriff Turner. The police called him to let him know they had a lead.”
“Let’s wait until they get the test results before we say anything. Maybe someone stole her suitcase, and when they didn’t find any money or jewelry, they stuffed it in the trash. Maybe it’s not even her blood.”
“You’re right. They’re all worried enough as it is. There’s no sense in putting this on them until we know more.”
“Put what on us?” Miss Evalina stood in the doorway with Frank right behind her.
I woke up the next morning with a horrible headache. After we’d told Miss Evalina and Frank the details, they’d agreed to wait until we had more information to tell the rest of the seniors. Then, with sick expressions on their faces, they’d walked slowly upstairs to their suite.
Sleep had come to me in sporadic ten-minute doses throughout the night. The next morning I went downstairs on wobbly legs. Miss Jane was already in the kitchen, and the aroma of frying bacon and sausage greeted me.
“Good, you’re finally here.” Miss Jane tossed me a playful scowl to let me know she was kidding. “You can scramble the eggs while I finish the pancakes.”
I was happy to see she was too distracted with her prep- arations to notice anything amiss with me.
I did as I was told, and breakfast was soon done and placed in serving dishes on the sideboard next to pitchers of orange and apple juice.
I went back to the kitchen for the toast caddies, and while I was there, I heard the seniors entering the dining room. I had to get myself together before I faced them, so I stayed where I was for a moment, listening to the familiar voices that floated through the door. Then I put on a pleasant expression and walked in.
I was greeted with their usual banter and replied with what I hoped was my normal manner. Sunday breakfast was usually rushed, and today was no different. They got up one by one to go finish getting ready for church. As Miss Evalina passed my chair on her way out, she placed her hand on my shoulder for just a moment. I reached up and touched her hand briefly, glad to be able to share a moment of sympathy with someone who understood.
After I’d cleared away the breakfast things and turned on the filled dishwasher, I went up to shower and get ready for my own church service. For once I was glad we all attended different churches.
Benjamin picked me up, and we drove to church together. We entered the sanctuary of Cedar Chapel Community Church and found a seat near the front. The worship team took their places a few minutes later, and the band began to play. Between my headache and the worry, I had trouble entering in to the worship at first. But finally, peace penetrated my heart and soul, and I slowly began to relax.
Pastor Carl’s message was about the Holy Spirit as Com- forter. Benjamin squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back to tell him I understood. I sent a prayer of thanks up to my heavenly Father for the timely word. And by the time the service was over, I’d done my best to leave Miss Aggie in the Lord’s hands.
Frank and Miss Evalina were going to his son’s house for the afternoon, and Martin was also spending the day with his family. Benjamin ate dinner with Miss Jane, Miss Georgina, and me. Afterwards, the ladies went to the rec room and played dominoes most of the afternoon. I hardly saw them at all except at suppertime.
Ben didn’t stay long, as he still had to get the Gazette ready for the next day’s issue. I walked out on the porch with him.
“Honey, try not to worry. I’ll be over in the morning as soon as I can, and we’ll wait for Corky’s call together.” He kissed me good-bye then waited until I was inside with the door locked before he left.
Try not to worry? How could I keep from it?
Restless, I went upstairs, planning to go to my suite. I stopped at Miss Aggie’s door. I stood there for a moment with my hand on the knob, then turned it and went in.
The aroma of Chanel No. 5 assailed my nostrils. Miss Aggie’s scent. Tears welled up. I’d never been as close to Miss Aggie as some of the others, but I cared about her deeply. The very thought that she might be injured or even dead was too much to bear.
I glanced around the neat room. A trace of powder on her dresser was the only thing that marred the tidiness. I grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand and wiped it across the dresser top.
“Where are you, Miss Aggie?” I whispered.
I walked over to the chest of drawers and looked at the black-and-white photo that stood in an antique frame.
Four young girls in their midteens stood with arms linked on the lawn in front of Pennington House. Miss Aggie, Miss Jane, Miss Georgina, and Miss Evalina. Laughter was on each face that held innocence rarely found these days. I knew their friendship was shattered for a while, but after all these years the four were still best friends. I sighed and went back downstairs. No sense in going to my apartment. I wouldn’t be able to relax anyway.
Martin got home around seven and flopped onto the sofa in the rec room to watch a movie. When I peeked in a little later, Miss Georgina put her finger to her lips and motioned to the sofa. Martin had fallen asleep. I smiled and nodded and went to the parlor, curling up in an overstuffed chair with a book by one of my favorite authors.
By eight, Frank and Miss Evalina were home. She took one look at my face, walked over to me and put her arms around me, giving me a slight hug. Then she and Frank went upstairs.
After everyone was settled for the night, I went up to my own apartment. I changed into my pajamas and went to bed, thanking God for getting me through the day without having to tell the seniors about Miss Aggie’s suitcase and the traces of blood that might be hers.
The clock was getting on my nerves. Each strike knifed through my brain. By the time it finally reached ten, I was ready to throw it in the fireplace. The peace I’d experienced in church on Sunday hadn’t lasted long. This, I decided, was proof my faith wasn’t as strong as it ought to be. Now, a week later, we’d finally gotten word that the DNA results were back.
I caught Benjamin’s eye as I paced the floor. How could he sit there so calmly? I knew he was on edge, but you’d never know it by his demeanor. Corky had promised to phone us as soon as his father called him with the results of the DNA test.
Mabel had stuck her head in the door a few minutes before and asked if we needed anything. She’d picked up on something, probably because I’d totally lost control and burst into tears after the seniors had left for the center. I’d asked her to bring coffee for Benjamin, and she’d brought in a tray a few minutes later. She threw me a worried, questioning look, but I turned away, pretending not to notice. She shook her head and returned to the kitchen.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you sit with me here on the sofa? You’re going to be exhausted from pacing the floor.”
“I can’t sit. . . .”
Benjamin’s cell phone rang, and I hurried over and sat by him as he answered. “Grant here.”
He listened and shook his head to let me know it wasn’t Corky. I sighed and jumped up. Pacing the floor was easier than sitting still with a million thoughts running through my head. Ben snapped his phone closed, and it rang again almost immediately. I held my breath and stared as he answered. He listened, then closed his eyes.
“Ben, what is it? Is that Corky?” I sat beside him again.
“Okay. Sorry, Corky. We’ll be praying.”
He looked at me and pulled me close. “Honey, the blood on the clothing was Miss Aggie’s.”
Chapter Thirteen
I waved a limp hand as Benjamin drove away.
He and Corky were heading out to Jefferson City in a couple of hours. Benjamin had friends on the police force there as well as on the staff of the News Tribune. There was a possibility he could obtain news and information about the case that wouldn’t be available yet to the family.
I shut the door and stepped into the great hall. Standing in the doorway, I looked up at Franklin Storm’s portrait. Family—and town rumor—had it that my ancestor had in- dentured himself to obtain boat passage to the shores of this country, one of the few ways in those days to avoid debt- ors’ prison. Whatever the truth was, Franklin Storm cleared the way in this area for others looking for a home and freedom. He must have been a strong man with a goal for the future and determination to achieve it.
If only I could tap into that strength. I sank into a chair and leaned back, letting the tears flow. How could I tell these precious senior friends that their childhood and life- long friend had more than likely met with disaster? Or at the least, injury. But possibly even murder.
I needed that Storm family strength now. I raised my eyes once more to the portrait, and my gaze fell on the black book he held clutched near his heart. I inhaled sharply, the breath permeating my lungs. A thrill ran through me. I did have that strength. Only it wasn’t Storm family strength. It was the strength of the Holy Spirit, promised and bequeathed by my Savior, Jesus Christ.
The seniors had that strength as well. I breathed a silent prayer of thanks and went to the kitchen to put water on for tea. We would need it.
Mabel was frosting an oatmeal cake, and the homey aroma soothed me as I entered the kitchen. I filled the kettle and put it on the burner. “Mabel, when the seniors arrive ,would you please join us in the parlor? I have some news and need to talk about it before Sarah gets off the school bus.”
“Yes ma’am. I’ll bring the tea in.”
“Thanks. And maybe a pitcher of ice water.”
It would be an hour or so before they got home from the center. I checked to make sure there was wood in the container by the corner fireplace, and as an added measure, I pulled a few knitted afghans from the wicker trunk in the opposite corner.
I sat in an easy chair and closed my eyes to pray. The ring of the doorbell jerked me awake. I heard Mabel’s footsteps padding to the door, so I stayed where I was.
“Miss Storm, I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment.” Surprised, I stared into Laura Baker’s shadowed eyes.
“Of course. Won’t you come in?” I indicated a chair near my own with a small table between.
Laura shook her head, fidgeting with a manila envelope she held. Her eyes darted around the room. “I don’t have time to stay. I must return home to take care of business there.”
“Is Christiana going with you?” I sincerely hoped so.
“No, she insists on staying behind in case we get a buyer for the pet store. She’ll have to stay in the apartment. The hotel expenses are simply too much for me just now.”
Suddenly she held the envelope out to me, her hand shaking. “I’d like for you to have these. I’ll need them back eventually, but I don’t have time to deal with them now.”
“Are they important?” As I took the envelope, a shiver ran up my arm. This was way too easy.
“I have no idea. Most of the documents are in German, and as I said, I don’t have time to deal with them. ”
“In German? Are you sure?”
“My father’s mother was German. I understand he spoke the language fairly well. And apparently read it as well.” She narrowed her eyes. “They are more than likely simply personal letters and business documents. If you do manage to get them translated, I would appreciate you making copies and sending me the originals.”
“Certainly. I’ll be more than happy to do that. But what if. . .what if they should pertain in some way to Clyde’s death or some other crime?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, Miss Storm.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She ran her tongue over her lips and took a deep breath.
What was she afraid of? Did she think whoever had killed her father might come after her, too?
“Laura, why are you so afraid?”
“Why?” A nervous laugh burst from her lips. “I want the truth to come out. I don’t know what my dad was mixed up in, but I fear for my daughter’s safety. . .and my own. In case you do find something pertinent, of course you will need to give them to the authorities.”
“Of course. . .but why me? You barely know me.”
She searched my face for a moment. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She shuddered. The woman seemed almost frightened out of her wits.
“I’ve heard about the other recent crimes and that you played a major role in solving them. I thought, perhaps. . .” She blinked, and the look she gave me was pleading. “Will you do this for me or not?”
“Very well. I’ll do everything I can to get these translated. You have my word.”
She nodded and offered her hand. “Thank you, Miss Storm.”
“If we’re going to be friends, Laura, you really must stop addressing me formally.”
She nodded again, briefly. “Very well. Good-bye then, Victoria.”
I watched from the front door as she drove away, and a moment of pity and regret struck me. It would have been nice if we could have truly been friends.
I returned to the parlor and glanced at the clock. The seniors would be arriving any minute, so there was no time to look through the envelope. I hurried to my office and locked the papers in the safe. The seniors would need my full attention.
Pains in my stomach reminded me I’d nibbled at breakfast and skipped lunch entirely. I went to the kitchen.
Mabel glanced up from the tea cart she was preparing. Little doilies, dainty cups and saucers, a plate of tiny sandwiches and another of shortbread. She motioned to the table.
“I thought you might be ready to eat a bite before the gang gets here.” A sandwich cut diagonally rested on a small plate with a glass of milk beside it. Tears sprang into my eyes. “Thank you, Mabel,” I whispered. Sometimes I thought she could read my mind.
I’d finished my late lunch and put the dishes in the dishwasher when the seniors arrived home.
They usually came in happy but tired from the center. Today was no different. Their smiles were more than a match for their obvious weariness.
I thought briefly of waiting until later to tell them the news, but I knew I couldn’t put it off.
The three ladies came in through the kitchen. I hoped Frank and Martin hadn’t gone on one of their flea market sprees. Relieved, I heard Martin’s laughter, and both men came through the door.
“Victoria, you won’t believe who came to the center today.” Miss Jane’s eyes were bright with humor.
“Oh? And who would that be?”
“Janis, of all people.” Miss Georgina giggled. “She’s always thought she was above the goings-on, as she called them, at the center.”
“Now, don’t be unkind,” Miss Evalina said. “I’m happy she finally decided to join us.”
“I am, too.” Miss Georgina darted a shamed look at her cousin. “And after the first little while, she seemed to enjoy herself. Didn’t you think so, Jane?”
“I guess.” She glanced around. “What’s the tea cart for?”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “I need to talk to everyone.” I motioned toward the parlor door.
Each face froze with an expression of dread. Oh Lord, how could I possibly do this?
Frank took charge. “Okay, let’s go to the parlor. Stop looking like somebody die—” He stopped and peered in my face, then put a protective arm around Miss Evalina. He guided her to the parlor, and the others followed. I motioned for Mabel to take the cart in, then followed her.
Everyone settled onto chairs and sofas while Mabel poured and handed out cups of tea. She gave me mine last.
“Mabel, please sit down.” She sat on a wing chair, and I remained standing in the middle of the roo
m, taking in every precious face.
“Aggie’s dead, isn’t she?” Miss Jane’s face crumpled. She and Miss Aggie had been girlhood best friends, and there was still a special bond between them.
Gasps and little moans seemed to emit from every inch of the room, as though the room itself were mourning.
“Wait.” I held my hand up, and five hopeful faces looked at me.
“We don’t know.” I glanced around at the hope mixed with fear on each face and knew I had to get it over with. “Miss Aggie’s suitcase was discovered in a Dumpster behind the Jefferson City bus station. It was full of clothing and personal items. One article of clothing had traces of blood.”
“Aggie’s?” Miss Jane murmured.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” At the cries that burst forth, I once more held my hand up. “Please. They have no evidence that Miss Aggie is dead. Someone may have stolen the suitcase.”
“But the blood!” Martin cried. “How could Miz Brown’s blood get in the suitcase if someone else had it?”
“I don’t know, Martin. Benjamin and Corky are in Jefferson City now trying to get more information. They’ll call if they have anything. In the meantime, we need to think positive and hope and pray for the best.”
“Victoria is right. And the first thing we need to do is pray.” Miss Evalina bowed her head, and we followed suit. Then she led us in a heartfelt prayer that Miss Aggie would be found alive and well.
The seniors remained in the parlor all afternoon, instead of splitting up as they customarily did. Neither Benjamin nor Corky had called, but I was pretty sure I’d hear from Benjamin before bedtime, if only to say good night. As I passed through the kitchen on my way to check out the small back parlor, I heard whispers and went in.
Sarah stood on tiptoe, whispering in her grandmother’s ear. But her stage whisper wasn’t very quiet. “Grandma, why do I have to be quiet?”
“You don’t have to, Sarah,” I said. A little noise might be just what the seniors need to get their minds off things. I smiled, and she gave me her usual “I don’t care” look.
Rest in Peace, Miss Aggie (The Misadventures of Miss Aggie) Page 12
