by Kate Wilhelm
“Please make yourselves comfortable,” the professor said, gesturing toward chairs. She seated herself in a recliner and put her feet up. Bonita instantly jumped into her lap. “You want to know about Howard Bainbridge and his fiancée, don’t you? And Andrea, I assume.”
“Especially Andrea,” Constance said. “The accounts we read said she was here that day.”
“She was. Her mother, Teresa, was working with me, doing an index for a book I was writing. She often brought Andrea with her, especially in the summer when school was not in session. She was only eight that summer, much too young to leave alone, of course.”
“Professor Oglethorp, will you tell us what you recall about that day?” Charlie asked.
“I remember it all very clearly, young man. My memory is not impaired,” she said and deliberately turned toward Constance. “Teresa usually came around noon and stayed about four hours. That day she had an appointment in the morning and couldn’t make it until two or a little later. She had a dentist appointment,” she said to Charlie with a reproving look. “We worked inside, in my office,” she said, motioning generally in the direction of the house, “and Andrea stayed out here, or else on the other part of the porch where she had a better view of the lake. She always brought her own books to read, or sometimes she looked at the books I had with pictures of birds. She was a lovely child, intelligent, filled with curiosity. She especially liked to use my binoculars and note what birds she saw. There used to be many birds, but no longer. Too much development, destruction of their habitat has driven them away.”
She looked both angry and resigned as she said this. “Well, no one person can stop what they call progress. That afternoon Andrea had been using the binoculars and she came running into the office to tell Teresa that a boat was sinking and a man and lady had fallen into the water. Teresa looked out and called nine-one-one, and then she called Walter Joiner. He had a motorboat and was out on the lake almost as soon as he hung up his phone. We, Teresa and I, went back out with Andrea to watch. Alice had the binoculars by then and I had to practically wrest them away from her. I saw them recover the young man and bring him ashore. An ambulance had come by then and the medics worked on him even as they were loading him on the stretcher and putting him inside. It was good that the ambulance came to this side because there is better access to the lakeshore here. I wouldn’t let the girls continue to watch after that. I knew the young woman could not survive that long in the water.”
“Alice was here? No one mentioned that before,” Charlie said, forgetting that the professor did not approve of him.
“She was. Her mother was my housekeeper. That happened to be her full day here. She brought Alice with her, ostensibly to help, but the girl was not interested in helping. She was about twelve or thirteen and what she was interested in was watching those boys at the fishing camp. She asked if she could use the binoculars that morning and I sent Andrea out to join her when she and her mother came, and she had the good sense to get help when the accident occurred. Lucky for him that she did,” the professor added with a shake of her head. “Possibly Alice did not realize the gravity of what was happening out there. In any event, Alice did not raise the alarm and there was no reason to mention her.”
“Is Alice your housekeeper now?” Constance asked.
“Yes. She is, what is the saying, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, not the brightest bulb on the tree? But she is reliable. Of course, I discount about ninety percent of what she says. These days she comes once a week in the morning. I imagine that she has told everyone in town about a hidden fortune in the house. And she tends to prattle about what she calls the Bainbridge curse. I believe she still holds a ridiculous grudge against Howard Bainbridge, despite the fact that the poor man is dead.”
“Why a grudge? What did he do to her?”
“Nothing to or for her. In the spring following that accident, he came to Stillwater with a fancy bicycle for Andrea. Teresa told me about it. He asked her permission first, then gave it to Andrea and stayed with her for more than an hour making sure she could ride it, keep her balance, steer and so on. Teresa kept her eye on them the whole time. Before he left again, he thanked Andrea and shook her hand. Teresa was quite touched by his generosity and the fact that he had made a special trip to thank the child. But Alice threw a hissy fit over it. She was not very nice to Andrea after that, I’m afraid. Girls that age can be very cruel, of course, and she was jealous.”
“How wide is the lake here?” Charlie asked. “I’m surprised she could see the Bainbridge guys over there.”
Professor Oglethorp pushed the little dog down and rose from her chair. “Come, I’ll show you,” she said. She opened a cabinet and withdrew binoculars, then motioned for them to follow her. She led them to the other side of the porch, which was not screened. There were several wicker chairs and a glider on that side. “It’s perhaps half a mile,” she said, handing the binoculars to Charlie. “See for yourself.”
He looked, adjusted the focus and looked again, and now he could see kids on a decorated raft, others on floats in the water, sunbathers, people at tables… He handed the binoculars to Constance and said, “You made your point, Professor.” Without the binoculars all that was discernible across the lake was a cleared area, some bright colors, and an indistinct building.
“I’ve spent more hours than you could count sitting on this porch watching birds,” she said. “Now what you see are half-naked people cavorting and rich people indulging themselves with food and drink.” She sounded more sad than outraged.
“Now you go to where the birds are, don’t you?” Constance said softly.
“Yes. As long as I can walk and see, and remember,” she said with another sharp glance at Charlie, “I’ll continue to pursue my interests.”
In the car a few minutes later Constance murmured, “I believe you were more or less taken to the woodshed, young man.”
“Lesson learned,” he said, “is don’t mess with the Bird Lady. Now, a choice. A bite to eat, or we’ll be ravenous by the time Alice provides food and end up eating with the Bainbridge crew.”
“I doubt the second option would be beneficial to one’s digestion.”
Charlie chuckled and patted her thigh.
8
WHEN THEY REACHED THE BAINBRIDGE HOUSE Charlie rang the bell and waited for Mac to respond.
“Hi,” Mac said, opening the door wide. “You leave your key at home or something?”
“Nope. I want you to tell me the combination to turn off the security system so we won’t have to bother anyone if we come when it’s not visiting hour.”
Mac frowned, looked indecisively toward the closed door of Paley’s converted office, then shrugged and stepped out. He kept an eye on the hall behind him as he told Charlie the combination in a low voice. “It’s off all day, until eight at night,” he said. “Hanson sets it every night and I turn it off again in the morning. Inside, by the light switch.”
“And the fence is always on? Is that right?”
“Yeah. We never touch it.”
“Good. Thanks, Mac.”
They entered the house, where Pamela was waiting. “What kind of banker’s hours do you guys keep? Why aren’t you doing what you’re supposed to be doing? More wasted money, that’s all this is, a scam job.”
“God and private investigators work in mysterious ways,” Charlie said. “And good afternoon to you, Pamela.”
He and Constance separated in the hall, with Charlie heading for Paley and their overdue talk and Constance going to the library to look over Howard’s reading material.
Pamela hesitated momentarily. The firm closing of Paley’s office door seemed to be the deciding factor for her. She followed Constance.
Ignoring her, Constance began to scan book titles. Three biographies of Henry Ford, another about the rise of Gener
al Motors in the automotive world, a book about the 1957 Studebaker. She blinked at that one. A whole book about one car? Biography of Olds, another of Packard. A lot of general biographies. She was quite aware of Pamela’s gaze fastened on her as she looked over the titles. Sherlock Holmes, a complete set apparently, Dashiell Hammett, Lawrence of Arabia…
Without looking at the other woman, Constance asked, “When did you come to visit Howard Bainbridge?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. Was it after you and William separated?”
“You’ve been talking to Alice, haven’t you? She has a big mouth and one day someone’s going to ram a fist down it.”
Constance turned then and shook her head. “I haven’t talked to Alice. Was it a good visit?”
Pamela was eyeing her narrowly. She glanced at the door, moved farther into the room, and lowered her voice. “Yeah, it was. He invited me and I came to visit. So what?”
“Nothing. I just wondered if it was a pleasant visit. You must have been quite upset with William, and Howard had been friendly. So you visited your brother-in-law. Did you stay here in the house?”
“No. It might have looked bad. I had a motel room. It was just a couple of days. He was okay, like you said, friendly. He understood what was going on with William, too busy to be bothered with a wife, neglectful-like, and tightfisted. Howie knew about him.”
“You never mentioned it to the rest of the family, did you?”
“It’s none of their business what I do. You saw how they treat me, like a piece of dirt. I needed a little time by myself, but Stuart got to Daddy first and talked him into trying to get a divorce or something. I know what’s been going on with them. I intended to go back. I still intend to go back. Stuart just hates my guts and tells one lie after another about me. He keeps William so doped, the poor guy doesn’t know which end is up.”
“Did Howard tell you about the curse when he visited in Orlando, or after you came up here?”
“He mentioned it down there. Like I said, I was scared, and I needed a little time by myself. He told me more about it when I came here and scared me even more. I would have gone back if he hadn’t scared me like that. I needed time to think about it.”
Constance looked past her as Alice entered the room carrying a fluffy pink duster. “This is the day I dust the books,” Alice said. “Mr. Paley said I should keep things neat like I always done before.”
Pamela rushed out.
“Well, I don’t want to get in your way,” Constance said. “Did you meet Pamela when she came to visit Mr. Bainbridge?”
“Sure I did. I worked for him, didn’t I? She was all ‘Oh, Howie, this is such a wonderful house. It just needs a woman’s touch. We could turn it into a showcase.’” She was a fair mimic, and had caught a simpering tone that Constance easily imagined Pamela using. “And, ‘Howie, can’t you just see how lovely some fine furniture would fit here? A white sofa with scarlet pillows, a beautiful Oriental carpet.’ He never said a word back. She wanted to stay for dinner and he said no. Just like that. No. She was in a huff. ‘But you invited me. And now you’re being mean.’ She would have cried, but he came in here and shut the door, so she left.”
“But she came back?”
“Oh sure. Next day, and he came to the front door and told her to beat it. Like that, beat it. And he said to me, don’t let her in again. And he went to the television room and closed the door.”
“Oh my. That must have been very unpleasant for you and Pamela.”
“Yeah. She spit nails, she did. She was cussing like a sailor.” She began to run the duster over the books. “I gotta get to work.”
#
In Paley’s makeshift office Charlie was sitting astraddle a straight chair and Paley was behind his desk.
“What I really want to know,” Charlie said, “is if the house was left unattended after Bainbridge died.”
“Of course not,” Paley said. “The housekeeper, Alice, found him and called nine-one-one.”
Charlie held up his hand. “Wasn’t the security system on that morning?”
Paley frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. But she came in and found him. I know she doesn’t have the combination now, but if she did then I can’t say. I assume that since he took his own life, he also turned off the system in order for her or someone to enter without breaking down a door. The police found our card in his wallet and contacted our firm. One of our associates, Mr. Mankevich, reviewed the will and contacted Mrs. Corning. Her name and address were on the will, of course. Mr. Mankevich had written the will, you see.”
“Did he question the provisions of the will as it was being written?”
“No. It was not an unusual will, Mr. Meiklejohn. Clients often express wishes to allow relatives or others to have a choice of an item in the house. Sometimes a favorite painting, or a bedspread, silverware, from sentimental to trivial to significant objects.”
“Was the provision regarding no funeral or other service, no family members, cremation and so on also routine?”
Paley shifted as if he found his chair suddenly uncomfortable. “I do not write wills. I am in the records department of our firm, research department, researching land transfers, titles, and the sort. I couldn’t say if that was unusual.”
Charlie nodded. “Fair enough. Moving on, your firm was called when he died, then what?”
“At first it was quite routine. It wasn’t until Mr. Jesperson closed the bank account, learned about the cashier’s checks, and opened the safe deposit box that he realized that a great deal of money was not accounted for. But again, people invest in art or antiques and it was assumed that Mr. Bainbridge had done so.”
“That really isn’t an answer to my question,” Charlie said. “From the time the body was found and removed, was the house secure before the present arrangement was made?”
Paley sniffed and stiffened even more. “When Mr. Jesperson learned about the death of our client, he immediately contacted the security firm and ordered them to reset the combination and make certain that the system was turned on. Our firm was named the executor of the estate, you understand, and it was our responsibility to maintain security, and we did so in all due haste.”
“But not for a couple of days apparently,” Charlie said. “Okay, you guys thought there might be an expensive painting or something and called in appraisers. When and who oversaw them?”
Paley pursed his lips and his forehead creased as he drew back in his chair as if personally attacked. “The security system was and is in perfect working order and it had not been tampered with. Mr. Jesperson came here personally to oversee the appraisers, and I accompanied him the day following the opening of the safe deposit box and examination of his bank account. We fully expected to find fine art of some sort.”
“So you were brought in early. How did that come about?”
“I had tendered my resignation to take effect on the first of September. I’ve been with our firm for forty-one years and had long anticipated resigning and traveling in Europe for a month or so, and afterward writing the book I am now engaged in. Mr. Jesperson and Mr. Callum, both of whom are senior partners in our firm, besieged me to take on this additional task and delay my resignation if necessary. No one believed at that time that it would be necessary. We all thought fine art or rare books, something of that sort would be located quickly and the matter brought to a conclusion. Mr. Jesperson and I stayed with the appraisers the entire time they were in the house, no more than an hour or two, as you may appreciate. There’s absolutely nothing of value in the entire structure. No art, no antiques, no rare stamps or books. Nothing. Mr. Jesperson felt it necessary at that time to place guards on the premises. He called the Slocum Detective Agency to send them to the house and we waited for them together. Accordingly, as so
on as it became apparent that the checks were concealed, this house has been under constant guard. Mr. Jesperson asked them to demonstrate on our own persons how they would ensure that no one removed the checks. They did so by conducting a body search, a pat down they called it.”
“Did either of you inform them about what was missing?”
“Absolutely not. Just the fact that nothing at all was to be removed, and that we had an inventory that would be compared to an updated inventory at a future time. I have no doubt that by now they know, however.”
“So you both returned to the city and then you moved in. When was that, and did you bring all your books with you at the same time?”
Paley’s lips became tighter. “Mr. Meiklejohn, I don’t like the implications you seem to be making. Our firm is one of the oldest and most honorable in the country. If you harbor a doubt concerning my activities, my presence here, it is absolutely unwarranted. I brought several boxes of books when I returned the day after our initial trip out here and the inventory and appraisals had been concluded, and I have not returned to the city since then. Mr. Jesperson has never returned to the house since the reading of the will.”
“I’m not implying anything,” Charlie said. “I’m trying to get a picture in my head of when the house might have been vulnerable, when it was empty. You already told me you submit to the same searches that the family does, but you aren’t here for twenty-four hours a day, are you? Don’t you go out to dinner? Maybe lunch? Take walks?”
“I go out for dinner most nights,” he said after a moment. “Not until the family leaves, however, and the security system is activated for the night. Now and then I go out for lunch, to take a walk, not every day. I make my own breakfast, as I’ve been doing for seven years, ever since my wife died. And most of the time I make my own lunch. I don’t believe I’ve ever been gone more than two hours for dinner.”
