Foliage and Fatality

by Karen Musser Nortman

  “Me, too,” Lil said.

  They chose a table near the door, under the shade of a large, striped awning. A waiter brought menus and took their drink orders.

  “So who is Art? Camille’s husband?” Max asked.

  Terry smiled. “I think he’d like to be. No, just a significant other. Art Carnel. Camille is not only very attractive and an excellent boss, but she is the heir to the Bamford fortune—goes back to the shipping and railroad barons more than a century ago. And she’s very generous with it as well.”

  Max leaned over and said in a low voice, “Are you saying this Art is a gold digger?”

  “Later,” Terry said. “Here they come.”

  Max looked up with surprise at the approaching couple. She had expected Art to be tall and distinguished, sort of a Cary Grant type. Instead, the man who held Camille Bamford’s arm was not much taller than she, and on the rumpled side of bandbox grooming. His salt-and-pepper hair was parted on the side but other than that went its own way. His eyes crinkled as he made some comment that brought a burst of laughter from Camille.

  Terry jumped up and pulled out a chair for his boss. As she sat, he leaned past her and shook hands with Art. He then made introductions.

  Camille and Art picked up their menus and opened them briefly. Camille closed hers and smiled. “I always order the same thing. Love their Cobb salad.”

  Art waved the waiter over. “I think we’re ready to order.” Then he realized he didn’t know about the others. “Are we?” He glanced around the group.

  They all nodded.

  When the waiter left, Camille looked at Lil and Max and said, “Now. I want to hear all about these trips. Do you always drive?”

  Max picked up her spoon and twirled it. “Yes. We like to be mobile when we get to our destination.”

  Terry jumped in. “Wait until you see Aunt Max’s car. A red 1950 Studebaker—“ He looked at Max questioningly.

  “Starlight coupe,” she finished.

  Camille leaned back in her chair. “Wow! So where do you go?”

  “I live in Colorado and Lil lives in Kansas,” Max said. “We try and go West at least once a year and one Eastern trip.”

  “Last year, we came through this area on our way to Mystic, Connecticut, but Terry hadn’t move here yet. Then in the fall, we went down to Santa Fe and over to California,” Lil added.

  They each told about several of their adventures, ending with a trip the previous summer to a family reunion in Minnesota. “And Max helped solve a murder while we were there,” Lil said.

  Art raised an eyebrow. “Really? A murder?”

  “It wasn’t just me,” Max said. “Lil helped.”

  Camille moved her arms off the table as the waiter delivered their plates. “That’s amazing. Terry, did you inherit any of this sleuthing ability?”

  Terry put his hands up. “Not me. That is, not any more than it takes to sniff out a deadbeat looking for a loan.”

  They laughed and Max said, “That’s enough about us—probably too much. Mr. Carnel, what do you do? Or are you retired?”

  “Semi-retired. I dabble in investments. I will consider myself successful if I ever get Camille to let go of some of her money.”

  Laughter again, but Max thought it was an odd thing to say, and certainly fraught with double meaning. The discussion turned to the haunted house project.

  “Lil and Max have volunteered to help out,” Melody said. “Especially for the bus tour on Monday.”

  Camille clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful! I’ve been worried that we wouldn’t have enough helpers for weekdays, and that’s when most of the bus tours come through.”

  Lil nodded. “It’s a pretty amazing project. Terry took us through yesterday and he said there’ll be more going on when it actually opens.”

  “We have a number of ‘actors’”—Camille used air quotes— “who will add more spice. Did you get to see the garden?”

  Terry shook his head. “I think they need to see that at night. We went during the afternoon.”

  “You’re right. Art will be reading ghost stories in the garden too.”

  Art gave an eerie cackle.

  “I’m convinced,” Max said.

  They finished their lunches and walked back toward the bank where Melody had left her small SUV. It was too difficult for her to get in and out of Max’s car, but Max promised Camille she would bring it down sometime during the visit.

  When they were back in the car, Melody said, “Would you like to stop any where else, or do you want to go back and rest up for tonight?”

  Max suspected it was Melody who needed the rest, so she said, “I’m ready for a nap. It will be a busy night.”

  Chapter Four

  Lil

  A couple of hours rest in the quiet house turned out to be a good thing. When the children came home from school, their excitement over the opening of the haunted house filled the house with noise. Terry grilled some burgers for supper and Lil fixed some hash browns and green beans. Melody would be driving herself after she got in her costume, so the rest piled in Terry’s car about an hour before the opening.

  When they arrived, Terry put the kids to work cutting up slips of paper for a raffle. A drawing the last night of the haunted house would split the take between the winner and the auditorium fund. Lil and Max set up folding tables on the porch to collect admission, the job Terry had assigned them for the night.

  Art Carnel arrived shortly, dressed in a vampire costume. His hair was covered in white powder and stuck up every direction. He carried a book of scary stories for kids.

  Terry welcomed him and said, “Art, would you show Mom and Aunt Max the garden? They haven’t seen it yet.”

  Art bowed and said in a sepulchral voice, “Certainly, Ladies. Right this way.” He led them through the house to the kitchen. A back door led to a small enclosed porch. They could see amorphous shapes through the porch windows. Art flipped a couple of switches and led them outside.

  “Ohhh!” Lil said. “This is beautiful.”

  In the dark, pots of white petunias and mums along a mulch-covered path glowed in special lighting. Shrubs and trees—some bare and some with rusty leaves—were spotlit from below emphasizing their skeletal shapes. But most eye catching were the graceful and ethereal figures of women in ball gowns that glowed white and swayed in the slight breeze.

  “How did they do that?” Max asked, pointing at the figures.

  Art rubbed his hands together, grinning. He seemed to genuinely enjoy playing his part. “Chicken wire sprayed with glow-in-the dark paint. Then they’re suspended from the branches with fishing line. Aren’t they marvelous? The high school art class made them.”

  Max and Lil followed him through the garden, stopping to examine ghouls and monsters around every turn and exposed with dramatic lighting.

  At the back, an antique armchair sat under a small lattice arch that was draped with cobwebs. Art sat in the chair and opened his book. Again, lights hidden in the foliage near the ground created frightening shadows on his face. The thin clouds sailed past the new moon and added to the eerie lighting.

  “Great effect,” Max said.

  Lil nodded. “The kids will love it. We better get back and get ready to work. We don’t want to get fired on our first day.”

  Art laughed. “You son’s a tough boss. I’ll see you later.”

  The women returned to the front porch and took their places at the table. Max shivered a little at the effects of the mood lighting, bats swooping from the porch roof, and unearthly sounds all around them from hidden speakers. People came in pairs and groups up the path to the house. Some of the kids were in Halloween costumes even though Trick or Treat was still over a week away.

  The special effects worked, based on the number of kids who clung to their parents’ hands or hid behind them. The crowd continued throughout the evening, and Max heard several kids ask parents if they could come back again. The haunted house project was a rousin
g success.

  About halfway through the evening, a large thirty-something man came out on the porch, trailed by two young girls in full police uniforms. He carried a large bundle of black cloth. Max remembered selling him tickets earlier.

  “Is Mr. Garrett around?”

  Lil’s mouth dropped open, and she stammered “Mr. Garrett?” Then she laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry! You mean Terry, my son.” She hesitated and went on. “‘Mr. Garrett’ to me means my husband, Terry’s father, and he’s been gone for several years. It just took me back—” The young man began to look rather impatient. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling. I’ll find him.”

  She hurried in the house to hide her embarrassment. Terry and Camille were in the kitchen, replacing a couple of burned out candles in the wall sconces.

  “Terry, there’s someone out front who wants to see you. I’m sorry—I didn’t ask his name. A big man, has two little girls in police uniforms.”

  Terry laughed. “That’s Josh Mansell, our new police chief. I noticed he has his girls dressed as patrolmen.” He led the way back to the porch and Lil and Camille followed.

  When they got outside, Terry made introductions. “Josh, this is my mother, Lillian Garrett, and my aunt, Max Berra. Max—Josh Mansell is our new police chief.”

  Josh nodded at each of them. “Nice to meet you.” He held up the bundle of black cloth. “The girls found this behind one of the doors upstairs.”

  “We were investigating,” the older girl said with a little swagger.

  Josh carefully unfolded the bundle and held up a nun’s habit with a large white collar.

  Camille gasped.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Terry asked her.

  Camille recovered herself and gave a weak smile. “It just reminded me of a robbery we had at the bank, maybe five years ago? The robber was dressed like a nun. He—or she—was never caught.”

  “I wasn’t here then,” Josh said, “but Dave Bender was, and he’s told me about it. That’s why I wondered if you knew why this was up there.”

  “You mean, you think this is actually the one the robber wore?” Camille asked. “I don’t remember if this house was empty then or not. It’s probably been about that long, but I would have to check the records. It was part of an estate, and the bank was the executor. There were no heirs, and the rest of the estate went to the library. But we could never get the house sold.”

  Terry said, “We were in such a hurry to get the house ready that we didn’t pay much attention to the closets unless we needed to hide something in one.”

  “What is the white dust all over the habit?” Max asked.

  Chief Mansell looked at the garment. “Plaster dust, I think. There are lots of places in the closets where plaster has fallen. We’ll compare this against the security tapes of the robbery and see if it looks like the same one.” He smiled at Terry. “Other than that, it’s a great haunted house.”

  At 9:30, Terry appeared on the porch.

  “Time to close up. I’ll turn off the lighting and sound equipment. How did it go?” He eyed the moneybox that Max was sorting and counting bills into.

  “The turnout has been fantastic,” Lil said. “How did the kids do?” During the evening, Ren and Rival curled up in the bunk beds in the playroom disguised in white make up, and jumped out as people walked around the room.

  “I think they had the time of their lives. Nothing better when you’re a kid than scaring the bejeezus out of adults.”

  The screen door slammed, and a small but firm voice said, “I don’t think you should say that word, Dad.” Ren, her hair and face covered in grayish-white powder, looked up at him with the sternness of a reform school matron. Several of the adults hid their smiles.

  Rival was right behind her. Terry decided distraction was the best course of action and said, “Why don’t you help Granny Lil and Aunt Max put their table and money box away?”

  The kids folded chairs and the table.

  “Rival scared his girlfriend,” Ren teased.

  “She’s not my girlfriend!”

  “Is so. Is so. An’ ya know what, Granny Lil? You can make a really weird noise if you blow across the edge of a piece of a paper.”

  Rival dragged one of the folding chairs toward the door. “We need some candy or somethin’ up there. We get hungry when we’re working so hard.”

  “I’ll ask the Board.” Terry held the door for his son

  “I don’t think a board will help...” Rival’s voice trailed off as he disappeared into the house, the metal chair still clanging on the floor.

  Art Carnel followed Rival back out to the porch. He whipped his cape around in front of him and twirled an imaginary mustache. “Success! The audience laughed, they cried, they screamed, they were at the edge of their seats--or they would have been if they were sitting down.”

  “Great!” Terry said. “I heard lots of good comments. Kids, time to get in the car. We’ll have another big night tomorrow night so we need to rest up. Your mom already left and I believe she has treats ready at home.”

  The kids whooped and raced for the car. Max and Lil both dozed off on the ride back to Terry’s in spite of the children’s excitement.

  As promised, Melody had cups of hot chocolate and monster cookies ready for them on the porch. Ren and Rival took center stage, as usual, with their accounts of the successful night. Max and Lil said their goodnights and were only too pleased to head to their comfortable quarters.

  Max woke the next day with Rosie’s hot breath in her face. She rolled over and looked at her watch. It was an hour past her usual wake-up time—no wonder the dog was getting concerned. She pulled on a sweat suit and sneakers and led Rosie out the back door into the yard. The dog got her chores done and then broke into her ‘crazy dance.’ She leapt and whirled, snapping at imaginary nemeses in the air. She finally loped aback to Max and looked at her expectantly.

  “It’s a good thing you’re beautiful, girl, because you sure don’t have much for brains. You’ll have to wait until my bathroom chores are done and then we’ll go for a walk.”

  At the word ‘walk’, Rosie’s ears went up, and she cocked her head.

  “Not now,” Max said and led the dog back inside. By the time she came out of the shower and redressed, Lil was up and ready for the day. Rosie pranced to the door and back until Max opened the door to the porch. She could hear voices in the kitchen so headed that direction. Melody and Terry supervised an eager Rival as he flipped pancakes at the stove.

  Lil had followed. “Wow, Rival, you’re cooking breakfast?”

  “Yup.” He had a large denim apron on already covered with grease spots and batter. Max would have been willing to bet that it did not look like that when Melody put it on him.

  “Do I have time to take Rosie on a little loop around the neighborhood?” Max asked.

  Melody rolled her eyes. “I think you have plenty of time. We’re putting the finished pancakes in the warmer anyway.”

  “Can I go with you?” Ren asked.

  “Sure. It’s kind of chilly so you’d better get a jacket.”

  By the time Ren returned, Max had the leash hooked to Rosie’s collar and they exited the front door. As they went down the front walk, Ren asked, “Can I hold the leash?”

  Max hesitated. “You can try. She’s strong and if she tries to take off, you may not be able to hold her. She’s pretty good most of the time.”

  Things went well for a while. They walked back down to the creek and watched the water. Rosie located a toad hiding in the rocks. Max pulled the dog back while Ren crouched down to examine the toad.

  The loop included a small park and playground. But on their way back, a gray squirrel raced across the sidewalk, and Rosie bounded after it, jerking Ren’s arm. Max managed to grab the leash just in time and, along with a command in a firm voice, convinced the dog that the squirrel was not in the cards today.

  “We’d better head back or we’ll miss the pancakes,” Max said, and Ren readil
y agreed.

  It was a quiet morning after breakfast; everyone seemed a little bleary-eyed. Terry had to work since the bank was open Saturday mornings. He arrived home at noon to find them all quietly occupied on the porch.

  “What a well-behaved bunch. Mom and Aunt Max, Camille asked if you would be interested in a ride in the country this afternoon? It’s a great day, and there’s some drives around here that are particularly beautiful this time of year.”

  Lil smiled. “How thoughtful of her. I’d love to. Max?”

  Max considered. “Why not?”

  “She said she would pick you up at 1:00 unless we call and tell her differently. I’ll get some lunch going,” Terry said.

  “I’m going to change.” Lil closed her magazine and got up. Max soon followed.

  Camille drove a small SUV. Lil took the passenger seat and Max got in back.

  “We’ll drive up north to the little town of Harvest. They’re having an apple festival today and will be selling homemade apple butter, pie, caramel apples—everything apple you can think of.”

  “Yum,” Lil said. “This is so nice of you.”

  Camille laughed. “Nothing like a road trip with a couple of interesting women, right?”

  Max leaned forward. “Camille, have you always lived in Burnsville?”

  “No, I grew up in Pittsburgh. I went to Vassar and got a job in a New York bank. I met my husband there, but the marriage didn’t last. After the divorce, I wanted out of the city. Took my maiden name back and the job here. That was twenty-five years ago, and I love it here. Totally different life.”

  “I don’t mean to be nosy,” said Lil, which Max knew was exactly what she meant to be, “but is Art a serious relationship?”

  Camille didn’t seem offended. “I think not as much as he would like. But he’s a fun companion. And he’s as loyal as a new puppy. But I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is.”

  “Did you hear anymore from the police about the nun’s habit?” Max asked.

  Camille grew serious. “Yes, Chief Mansell called this morning and said it looks like the same style.” She shook her head. “It’s really odd—not a clue in all of these years and then that turns up. I did check the bank records, and the house has been empty that long.”