by Matt Ferraz
Grandma Bertha was intrigued. “Did you call her?”
“She called me,” explained Marina. “I think she’s calling everyone who was here last night, but she wanted to reach me first. After all, I was their host.”
“What did she say?” asked Grandma Bertha, sitting down.
Marina spoke as Grandma Bertha fixed herself a cup of coffee. “It was more of an apology. They want to keep up appearances, you know how it is. Daisy already has a reputation of being difficult, and they didn’t want it to get worse.”
“What was their excuse?” she asked.
“That she’s under a lot of stress, working too hard…” Marina dismissed the idea with a gesture. “I didn’t believe a word of it. She’s never worked a day in her life. Do you remember how she acted last night? She was in shock at the sight of my painting. I talked to Craig last night when they arrived. He seemed concerned about her.”
Grandma Bertha spread some jam on a piece of toast. “I knew there was something wrong with her,” she said. “Even before the painting was unveiled. Please, tell me everything you know about her.”
Marina scratched her forehead. “Well, she has never been poor, I can tell you that. Her dad started making good money when she was a teen. Craig had a lovely wife, Emma, who died in a fire when Daisy was eight. A few years later, Craig and Scarlett got married. She wasn’t from the same society as him, and no one knows how they met.”
“What colour are Scarlett Erickson’s eyes?” asked Grandma Bertha.
“What an odd question, Albertha,” said Marina. “They’re blue, I think. I’m not really sure. Why do you ask?”
“I’ll tell you later,” said Grandma Bertha. “Please continue.”
Marina went on. “I’ve heard people saying awful things about their marriage. Anyway, Craig lives for his business. He’s training Daisy to take over from him. They say the business is the whole basis for their relationship, but to me they seem like a normal, loving father and daughter.”
Grandma Bertha chewed a biscuit, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Marina, have you ever known anyone with differently coloured eyes?”
“More questions, Albertha—”
“I know, I know,” said Grandma Bertha. “I’m just trying to figure something out. You see, I’ve read somewhere that the first thing people see when they look at a human face is the eyes. Young Daisy fainted yesterday when she saw your painting. And I believe it might be something to do with your mother’s eyes in the painting. One was blue and the other was green.”
“Seriously?” asked Marina. “I didn’t mean to…”
“I know,” said Grandma Bertha. “It just happened. Now, imagine Daisy has met someone with different-coloured eyes and—”
“Oh, please, dear,” said Marina. “Could we stop this nonsense? This isn’t one of your murder mysteries. We should just…”
At that moment the butler walked into the room and announced a guest. “Mr Nathan Arkin is here, ma’am,” he said. “He wants to talk to Mrs Hepburn.”
“You’ve made friends, Albertha,” said Marina with a smirk. “Let him in, Leonard. He may join us for breakfast.”
Nathan Arkin entered the room, a nervous smile on his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.
“Not at all,” said Marina, asking him to sit down. “We were talking about Miss Erickson.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” said Nathan, sitting next to Grandma Bertha. “Do you remember our conversation yesterday?”
“Sure!” said Grandma Bertha, chewing her toast. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Do you have any theories?”
“Theories?” he asked.
“About why Daisy flipped out,” explained Grandma Bertha. “I’ve been wondering, and…”
She stopped right there. Nathan and Marina stared at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence. “Please continue, Albertha,” said Marina.
“Something just came to my mind,” she said. “Something important. Tell me something, Marina. I saw a couple of men taking pictures yesterday…”
“Yes, naturally,” said Marina.
“I imagine they won’t use all the pictures they took,” continue Grandma Bertha. “Only the best ones. Could you let me see them? All of them?”
“Why?” Marina asked.
“I want to see everyone’s faces the moment the picture was unveiled,” said Grandma Bertha, raising her finger. “And I want to make sure that Daisy was actually looking at the painting at that moment.”
“You don’t think there’s a mystery to solve here, do you, dear?” asked Marina.
Nathan was looking at Grandma Bertha, a half smile on his face. She could tell he was enjoying himself. Grandma Bertha wanted to say yes, someone had been murdered and she was going to find out who did it. Nathan was a mystery even to Grandma Bertha, who was usually an expert on human nature. It was still too soon to say if he was a suspect or an ally.
The truth was, Grandma Bertha could smell a murder mystery in that situation. After four cases – not counting the first one in her youth – she had developed a good sense of smell for that kind of thing. Maybe it was nothing, but she had to make sure. “There’s something bothering me about this situation, Marina,” she replied, picking a plum from the fruit basket. “That picture brought something out in Daisy. You captured something on the canvas by accident. Something you didn’t realize while you were painting, but it was there. It’s like when you watch a movie and you find a meaning in it that the director never imagined. Art is sometimes like that. Now I want to know what made Daisy flip out at that moment.”
“It was strange,” agreed Marina. “Since her mother died in that awful fire, she’s been … withdrawn.? Her display of emotion doesn’t fit her. But there’s a much easier way to know what happened. You could ask her.”
“I’m not sure if that’s going to work,” said Grandma Bertha, taking a bite out of the plum. “It’s not the kind of thing a person can rationalize. She might not even remember what crossed her mind at that moment.”
“That’s what psychiatrists are for,” said Marina. “But, anyway, if you are going to look deep into this, it wouldn’t hurt talking her. Do you want me to invite her?”
“Could you arrange that?” Grandma Bertha asked, her mouth full.
“Easily,” answered Marina. “I’m good friends with her family. We could invite Daisy for tea.”
“I’m free for tea,” said Nathan. “Would you mind if I dropped by?”
“Not at all,” said Marina, although she found his request a little impertinent. “What do you say, Albertha?”
Grandma Bertha considered the idea for a second. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to meet her face to face and get to know her a little better. “You mean tea at five o’clock?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“We could do that,” replied Grandma Bertha, getting up. “If I’m fast enough, it could be finished by then.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Marina.
“I want to do something nice for young Daisy,” answered Grandma Bertha. “To make up for her troubles. I’m going to knit her a sweater. Hopefully I still have enough green and blue wool in my bag.”
With that, she said goodbye and went to her room. Nathan and Marina stared at each other, not knowing what to make of her.
“I’ll be here by five, then,” said Nathan at last, getting up. “Sorry for bothering you like that. I’m fascinated by Grandma Bertha. “We all are,” said Marina, finishing her coffee. “That’s how things are with Albertha Isobel Hepburn. You never know what she’ll do next.”
Nathan said goodbye again, and went away. For the rest of the day, nobody in the mansion heard anything from Grandma Bertha, except for the occasional sound of her opening a can of beer. She worked hard on the sweater – and she wanted to make sure that one sleeve was shorter than the other.
4
Daisy was there at five o’clock, Craig by her side. T
he butler escorted them to the living room, where a pot of tea awaited them. There was plenty of company. Nathan was on one couch, talking to Grandma Bertha. The old lady had a box in her lap, and didn’t seem to be paying much attention to his words.
Marina was having a cup of tea when she saw the guests arriving. “My darlings, so glad to have you here!” she said, putting her tea aside. She stood up and walked in their direction, extending her hand to Craig.
“The pleasure is ours,” said Craig, kissing Marina’s hand.
“Sorry for the short notice,” Marina apologized, looking at Daisy. The girl’s face was serious, and she looked paler than usual. Marina wanted to hear her voice. “How are you feeling today, my dear?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” said Daisy, her eyes on Grandma Bertha. “Could use a cup of tea.”
They sat down. Daisy made sure she was as far from Grandma Bertha as possible. The old lady kept watching her, which made Daisy uncomfortable.
“You two met last night, didn’t you?” said Marina, trying to break the ice.
“I saw her,” said Daisy, pouring milk into her tea. “It was hard not to see her. She was so different from everyone else around here…”
“It was hard not to see you,” said Grandma Bertha. “You were the prettiest girl in the room. All the boys were around you.”
Her words made Daisy blush, and for the first time Grandma Bertha saw the shadow of a smile cross her face. “You flatter me,” said Daisy. “But you’re right – it was hard not to notice me with all that noise—”
“I heard this hilarious story the other day,” said Craig, trying to change the subject. “It happened downtown—”
“I’m sorry,” the old lady cut in. “Your daughter was saying something.”
Now Daisy was actually smiling. She was used to being interrupted by her father, and it was rare for someone to be interested in what she had to say.
“I know I made a scene,” she said. “That painting made something snap in me. I have no idea what it was.” She caressed the scars on her neck. “Something to do with my mother, and the way she…”
They all stared at Daisy, waiting for her to finish her sentence. But she was silent.
“I have a suggestion,” said Nathan. “What if we show you the painting again?”
“Wait a minute,” said Craig. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Me neither,” said Marina. “I would never forgive myself if you fainted again. What do you think, Albertha?”
“I think we should ask Daisy,” said Grandma Bertha. “She has to have the final say.”
Daisy stared at the teacup in her lap. “I think we could do it,” she said. “I’m curious to see what will happen.”
“If you say so,” said Marina, pressing a button in the arm of her chair. The butler appeared in the doorway. “Douglas, could you bring my painting? The one we displayed yesterday?”
“We have to do this the right way,” suggested Nathan. “We need to cover the painting and unveil it before her eyes.”
“Please, Nathan…” Craig protested.
“No, he’s right,” said Daisy. “Let’s do it that way.”
Her father continued to protest as Nathan went after the butler. They got the piece of cloth that had covered the painting during the unveiling, and brought it to the living room. Daisy drank her tea while Grandma Bertha listened to Craig’s complaints.
“Please, Marina,” he said to their host, “I don’t want another scene.”
Marina tried to calm him. “We should be fine. She’ll just take a peek at it. It won’t be a surprise now that she knows what it is.”
“Do you know what the painting is of, Daisy?”
Three pairs of eyes turned to Grandma Bertha.
“Of course, she does,” said Craig.
Grandma Bertha was looking at Daisy. “Tell me, then,” she asked.
“It’s a portrait,” said Daisy. “Of two people. One of them is holding a loaf of bread and the other one is cutting it.”
“That’s not—” Marina started, but Grandma Bertha made a sign for her to be quiet. Nathan and the butler came in at that moment. Nathan brought the easel, while the latter carried the painting. They put it in the same spot it had been in the previous day.
“Everyone ready?” asked Grandma Bertha.
They all said yes, and Nathan unveiled the portrait. Daisy was the only one actually looking at it. Everyone else had their eyes on her, trying to predict her reaction. She flinched, and then stared at the painting, tilting her head sideways.
“Is this the same one?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Grandma Bertha. “We all saw it, didn’t we?”
They agreed, but Daisy wasn’t convinced. “I could swear there were two people on there yesterday.”
“There’s just one – my deceased mother,” said Marina, trying to disguise the annoyance in her voice. “I should know. I painted it.”
“I want to show you something,” said Grandma Bertha, reaching for something in her bag. “These are the pictures that were taken here last night. Marina let me examine them all.”
She got up and sat next to Daisy to show her the pictures. The other people in the room, even the butler, gathered behind them to look. “I thought you were knitting all afternoon,” said Marina.
“I don’t knit with my eyes, dear,” said Grandma Bertha. “You see, these were taken at the exact moment the painting was revealed. This is you, Daisy. Look at these three pictures. See what you were looking at.”
In the first picture, Daisy was looking at the portrait. In the second one, taken a few seconds later, her head was turned and she was looking at someone behind the camera. The third one showed her screaming.
“You don’t remember anything from this moment?” asked Grandma Bertha. “Do you know who you were looking at?”
Daisy bit her lip, thinking hard. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, after a minute. “It’s all a blur. First, I was drinking champagne, then I was in the car on my way home.”
“I see,” said Grandma Bertha, putting the photos back in her bag. “I need to ask you one more question. Does that painting remind you of anyone?”
They all looked again at the painting. “I don’t know,” said Daisy. “There’s something familiar about it, but it’s hard to say.”
“It’s very asymmetrical,” said Nathan, forgetting the painter was by his side.
“It’s odd,” said Daisy. “Why did I think there were two people there?”
“Any ideas, Albertha?” asked Marina, trying to take the attention away from the painting.
“I have a few, yes,” said Grandma Bertha. “And I need to ask more questions in the near future, but now I think we’re all tired. Let’s have a pleasant afternoon.”
“What about the sweater?” asked Marina.
“Marina, please…” Grandma Bertha tried to argue. She hadn’t planned to give Daisy her present then.
“What sweater?” asked Daisy.
“The one in the box,” said Marina. “She’s worked on it all day. You should be honoured, darling – not everyone can say they have a piece of clothing knitted by the Homicide Magnet.”
“The what?”
“That would be me,” said Grandma Bertha. “I’m afraid this is not my best work.” She picked up the box from the couch and pulled the sweater out of it. It wasn’t her best work, like she said, but that was intentional. The left side was green and the right one, blue. “I didn’t have enough wool to finish this side, so it ended up shorter.”
Daisy stared at the ugly jumper, apparently mesmerized. She took it from Grandma Bertha and examined it. Then her eyes went back to the painting.
“What’s happening?” asked Craig.
For a moment Grandma Bertha saw something in Daisy’s expression. Something that indicated she had realized something important, even though she couldn’t tell what it was.
The old lady expected Daisy to flip out again, but the str
ange sparkle faded from her eyes. “Thank you, it’s very pretty,” Daisy said, at last. “Dad, I’ve got a headache. Could we go home?”
“Do you want a painkiller?” asked Marina.
“I’ll be fine, thanks,” said Daisy.
“Maybe you should lie down for a while,” suggested Grandma Bertha. “There are a ton of guest rooms in this place.”
Daisy smiled at Grandma Bertha. “That would be nice.”
Craig and Marina took her to an upstairs bedroom, leaving Grandma Bertha alone with Nathan. “You said you had some thoughts,” he said. “I’m dying to hear them.”
“It’s too soon,” replied Grandma Bertha. “You could help me with something, though. I want a photo of Daisy’s mum and another of her stepmother. They must be full face, as big as you can find, and in colour. Could you get that for me?”
“That can be done,” he said. “Shall I meet you here in an hour?”
“Okay.”
“Sorry you wasted so much time knitting that sweater,” said Nathan on his way out.
“It wasn’t a waste,” Grandma Bertha said. Things were starting to make sense to her.
5
Craig walked out of the room while Marina took care of his daughter. He pulled his phone from the pocket. Before he could press a button, he saw that someone was waiting for him.
“Hello, Craig,” said Grandma Bertha, her face serious, a can of beer in her hand. “How’s our girl?”
“She’s fine,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“Are you going to make a call?” asked the old lady.
“What?”
“You were holding your phone,” she said. “Are you going to make a call?”
“Yes,” he said. “I need to talk to Scarlett. She’ll be worried.”
“Why?” asked Grandma Bertha, taking a long sip of her beer.
“You saw what happened…” He tried to explain.
“But Scarlett didn’t. As far as she knows, we’re having tea and talking about the weather.”
“I mean yesterday,” replied Craig. “What happened yesterday. She’ll be nervous.”
