by Kari Bovee
I arrived back at the ranch just as Rose was serving lunch. Only Susie and Miss Meyers were there. She was a slip of a woman with long features—long nose, long neck, long arms and legs. Not attractive in the conventional way, she had a kindness in her eyes that gave one instant comfort. I liked her from the moment I’d met her.
“Miss Grace, why can’t I go to the barn to see the horses?” Susie asked as I walked into the kitchen. “Mr. Chet needs me to help him feed the oats.” She held a forkful of chicken pot pie in front of her face. From her cheery demeanor, I gathered she’d not been privy to last night’s horror, and I was glad of it. She didn’t need any more trauma in her life. Although, we were going to have to tell her something. I just needed a little time to figure out how.
I met Miss Meyers’s gaze, and I could instantly tell she knew what had happened. When Ned had taken Ida downstairs to Miss Meyers’s rooms, Ida had probably mentioned something about Lizzy’s bloody hands. I assumed Ned told Miss Meyers, either last night or this morning, what we’d found in the barn.
I turned my gaze to Susie. “There is some work being done in the barn today, and we mustn’t get in the way,” I said, stalling, trying to come up with some kind of excuse for why she hadn’t been able to do her favorite daily chore. Susie had a great need for ritual. She liked to do things in a methodical, sequential way.
She had come to us from an appalling “privately run” orphanage up north. The owner of the place, a Mrs. Barstow, had been an alcoholic and the children barely had been tended to. Chaos reigned in the place. When Mrs. Barstow had died from the drink, the children were dispersed throughout California. Susie had ended up at an orphanage run by the Catholic nuns at the Notre Dame Institute in Santa Clara but had not been thriving. Sister Antoinette, whom I’d met at an orphanage in New Mexico, had been transferred to the Institute. She and I had kept up correspondence since my visit to New Mexico, and she knew about our ranch. She was the one who had sent Susie to us.
I smiled at her. “I saw the horses in the pasture. Ned must have put them there. Maybe you can help him with the grain this evening.”
“But the horses count on it in the morning,” she said, her eyebrows pressed together. Susie was small for ten years old. Probably due to malnourishment, according to the doctor. She reminded me of a little pixie with her round, freckled face and poker straight hair cut in a banged bob.
“I know. But I don’t think they minded getting out into the pasture early. There was still dew on the grass, and they like that.”
“You can help me print the lessons on the chalkboard for tomorrow,” Miss Meyers said, patting her hand.
Susie grinned at Miss Meyers, satisfied with the turn of events, and recommenced eating her serving of pot pie. Ida came into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning. Obviously, she’d just woken up. She probably had not slept well so I assumed Rose had let her sleep in.
Ida went directly to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. Not much of an early riser anyway, Ida rarely spoke until she’d had a cup of Joe. I thought fourteen years old was a little young for drinking coffee, but according to her, she’d been partaking of it since she was ten. She joined Susie and Miss Meyers at the table, and I did the same.
Rose brought over another freshly baked chicken pot pie, just as Chet came into the kitchen through the side porch door. He looked exhausted. Our eyes met. I was dying to talk to him about Lizzy but knew I needed to wait until the children were out of earshot.
“Did you just get home?” I asked. “You must be starving.”
He shook his head and placed his hat on the counter, the expression around his eyes tight. “No. Got home a bit ago, but I’ve been in the barn, had to get some things done out there.”
“Did the horses get their oats this morning?” Susie asked.
He gave her a smile. “Ned took care of them, Susie. But they will be anxious to see you this evening.”
“Well, wash up and I’ll get you a plate,” Rose told Chet. They were the first words she’d spoken since I’d returned from Margaret’s.
As Chet went over to the sink, Daniel came into the kitchen via the living room, hands in his pockets and head hanging low. I remembered Rose saying all the kids, except Susie of course, had been drinking last night. I wondered if Daniel had a hangover. I thought about chiding him, but he was almost seventeen—nearly a man—and the subject was moot now. Besides, I usually left any disciplining of him to Chet.
The boy walked to the cupboard, got a glass, poured himself some lemonade, and then proceeded to leave—without lunch. Such a thing was unheard of, as he was a human food bin.
“Daniel, stick around,” Chet said from the sink. “We need to have a meeting.”
I glanced at Miss Meyers, and taking my cue, she tapped Susie on the shoulder. “Okay, my girl. Ready to help me in the classroom?”
Susie put down her fork, swiped the napkin across her face, and then bounced out of the kitchen. I smiled at Miss Meyers. “I’ll fill you in later,” I said. With a tight-lipped smile, she left the kitchen, too.
“This about what happened to Lizzy?” Ida asked, getting up to pour herself more coffee.
Chet nodded. “Yes.”
Daniel walked over to the kitchen window, lemonade glass in hand. He’d listened to Chet and stayed, but he seemed a million miles away.
“I don’t know how much you’ve gathered,” Chet started, “but last night, Lizzy had some kind of altercation in the barn. She was found unconscious in the hay room. Lying next to her was Mr. Edward Travis. He was dead.”
“Oh my god.” Ida’s eyes filled with tears. She rested her forehead on her palm. I reached across the table and laid a hand on her shoulder.
Rose came over and gave Chet a plate. “Daniel?” She tilted her head toward the pot pie on the table. “Are you going to eat?”
“No,” he said, still staring out the window.
“Grace?” she asked.
I shook my head, the pain in it reverberating like an echo. “Not now. Maybe later.”
Her mouth turned down in a frown. “You all need to eat. You won’t be much help to anyone on an empty stomach.” Rose always felt that food was the answer to everything. From what Chet had told me, she’d been raised in poverty and couldn’t abide anyone turning down a good meal. Still, I didn’t think I could make the food go down, as good as it smelled.
Chet cleared his throat. “Detective Walton’s men have been in the barn all morning. They are just finishing up. The detective has just arrived and is coming in to speak with us. He has some questions.”
“Did Lizzy kill him?” Ida asked in a small voice.
“We don’t know what happened,” I said in what I hoped was a soothing tone.
“Is she okay? Where is she?” The note of concern in her voice was heartwarming given Lizzy and Ida were not the best of friends. I didn’t entirely know what the problem between them was, but I think it had something to do with Daniel.
“She’s at the police station,” I said.
There was a knock at the kitchen door. Rose opened it, and Detective Walton stepped through. He took off his hat and smoothed his thinning gray hair. “Afternoon,” he said.
“Detective,” Chet said as they shook hands.
“Would you like some lemonade?” I got up to pour myself some, and when he heartily agreed, I got him a glass, too. We all sat down at the table, and Chet introduced him to the kids and Rose.
“Daniel,” the detective said. “Mind if I start with you?”
Daniel shrugged and crossed his arms. He seemed melancholy, despondent.
“Did you attend the party?” the detective asked.
Daniel looked him in the eye. “Yeah. Only long enough to talk to some folks and get some food. Then I went up to my room.”
The detective paused, taking a sip of his lemonade. “Did you see Lizzy during that time?”
Daniel gave a snort and then scowled. “Yeah. Chatting up every guy in the room.”
“Did you see her talking with Mr. Travis?”
Daniel looked away from him. “I wouldn’t know who that is.”
“You were up in your room the rest of the night? Until yesterday morning?”
He turned back to the detective. “That’s what I said.” He raised his lip in defiance.
Startled at his disdain for Detective Walton, I bit back a rebuke and took a sip of my lemonade. An explosion of tartness pinched the back of my throat.
“Hey,” Chet piped in, “show some respect.”
“You’re sure?” Detective Walton seemed nonplussed by Daniel’s surly behavior. I’m sure he’d seen much worse, but Daniel’s attitude made me want to squirm in my chair.
Daniel sighed. “Well, I went out on the staircase off Grace’s studio to have a smoke for about five minutes.”
Detective Walton jotted something down in his notepad. “What time was this?”
Daniel shrugged again. “Ten?”
“Anyone with you?”
“No.”
The detective turned to me. “Your studio is where?”
I pointed westward. “The other end of the house, upstairs.”
“So you wouldn’t be able to see the barn from there,” he stated.
“No,” I answered.
He turned back to Daniel. “So you went out on the stairs for a smoke. Did you see anything unusual?”
Daniel sniffed. “No.”
The detective then turned to Ida. “What about you, sweetheart? Were you at the party?”
She nodded, sitting up tall, her eyes as big as saucers. “Just for a little while. I wanted to see the movie stars.” I couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness to answer his questions. She really wanted to cooperate.
“And did you see any?” he asked indulgently.
“I got to talk to Mr. Chaplin. You know, Charlie Chaplin?”
The detective nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Were you alone with Mr. Chaplin ?”
“No. Ned was with me. But, then Grace came to get me.”
“Where’d you go?”
She cocked her head, and her eyes drifted to the ceiling, as if trying to recall. “To my room. I heard a loud crash and went to the hall to see what was happening. Grace and Ned were taking Lizzy to her room. I followed them and saw that her hands were all bloody.”
I winced at the memory.
“Then what did you do?” the detective asked.
She frowned. “I was kind of upset so Ned took me down to Miss Meyers’s. I stayed with her and Mrs. R for a while, and then I went to bed.”
The detective nodded. “All right. Thank you.”
“Can we go now?” Daniel asked.
“We’re done for now,” the detective said.
Ida and Daniel quickly got up and left the kitchen. Detective Walton turned his attention to Rose, asking her about what she had seen last night. She claimed she was in the kitchen most of the night, except to come out to refill the food table. She mentioned she’d seen Ida, Daniel, and Lizzy all partaking of the punch and champagne. She’d been especially concerned about Lizzy who, as Daniel had said, was talking to many of the male guests. When she mentioned that bit of information, she shot me a look. My stomach curdled at my utter failure to protect Lizzy.
After a few more questions directed to the three of us, the detective stood. “Well, I’ll need one of you to come to the station with me.”
“You’re releasing her?” I asked, hopeful.
“Yes, into your custody. We don’t have enough evidence to hold her, and we haven’t been able to find a murder weapon. Just some broken glass, the shards of which aren’t big enough to cause the kind of damage Mr. Travis suffered to his neck. My guess is that Travis was killed with a knife or another sharp object. We’ll find out for sure from the coroner. Lizzy does have a cut on her hand that she claims she doesn’t know how she got, and I am assuming that was from the broken glass. Could be she fell on it.”
“That glass had to come from somewhere, Detective. We certainly would not have broken glass in the horses’ feed,” Chet said.
“True that. She’s still our prime suspect, and I’m trusting you will keep an eye on her.” He uttered the last sentence while looking at Chet.
“You have our word,” he said.
After Chet left to go pick up Lizzy, I called Margaret. She wanted to come over so that she could be there when Lizzy arrived.
She showed up twenty minutes after we’d hung up. She was neatly dressed in a pair of cuffed palazzo pants, a sleeveless shawl collar top, and a summer tam o’ shanter reined in her mass of chocolate tresses. Her eyes were puffy and red, her normally dewy, porcelain complexion splotched. My heart went out to her. I knew what it was like to be worried for a sister, especially when she was the only family you had.
“Please come in,” I said as I took hold of her elbow and guided her into the house. The afternoon was warm, and her skin was hot to the touch. “Can I offer you some lemonade?”
She shook her head. “No. Not right now.” Her voice had a tremor in it.
“Let’s go into the living room where it’s cool,” I said.
She followed me through the entryway into the living room. She took a seat on the sofa, and I sat on the love seat adjacent to it.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
She gave me a weak smile. “Not very well. I’m so worried about Lizzy’s state of mind. She’s been through so much.”
“I know. But she is being released so that is good news.”
Margaret nodded. “She wouldn’t kill anyone. She’s not capable of it. The reason she acts out is because she really is just so sensitive and she keeps everything bottled up. I know in my heart of hearts she did not kill that man.”
I took a deep breath. “If it was Lizzy, I’m sure it was self-defense. If he was trying to—”
“No!” She nearly shouted the word.
I blinked in surprise, and I decided not to offer anymore opinions. The woman was clearly distraught.
I heard the front door open, and Margaret shot to her feet. She waited until Chet and Lizzy entered the room, and then she rushed to the girl and threw her arms around her. Lizzy’s arms remained at her sides.
“Oh, my darling,” Margaret said, releasing her. She placed both her hands on Lizzy’s cheeks. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried about you.”
Lizzy did not make eye contact with her. Instead, her gaze traveled to me.
“Come sit down, Lizzy.” I hoped to break the tension. “I’ll get you some lemonade. Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. Margaret took Lizzy’s hand and led her to the sofa. They both sat down, Margaret clinging to the girl’s hands.
With a tilt of my head, I motioned for Chet to come with me to the kitchen, to leave the sisters alone.
“Lizzy didn’t look too happy to see her sister,” Chet whispered once we were out of earshot.
“Poor thing.” My heart ached at the thought of Lizzy being interrogated and spending all night in that cold jail cell. “She’s probably traumatized. Did she say anything on the ride home?”
“Not a word. Just stared out the window.”
“Oh dear.” I bit my lip. We’d have to be careful how we handled her. I wasn’t sure if we needed to give her space or if she could use the comfort of company. We’d just have to be as sensitive to her emotional state as we could.
I pulled the pitcher of lemonade out of the icebox. “Do you want a glass?” I asked Chet.
“Sure. But I need to get back out to the barn soon. The police are all done out there. Joe is coming over to exercise the new horse.”
I handed him a glass of lemonade. He kissed me on the cheek and then went out the kitchen door to the barn.
I poured two more glasses, one for Lizzy and one for Margaret. She’d said no before, but just in case. If she didn’t want it, I’d drink it.
As I was about to push open the swinging door separating the kitchen and the livin
g room, Lizzy shouted, “Stop with the third degree! I’m sick of answering questions.”
I stepped into the room. Lizzy’s face was contorted in anger, and the tension between the two of them was thick and electric.
Margaret flinched. “I just want to know what he said to you, Lizzy.”
Lizzy stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “He didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, okay? We were talking about the horses, and he wanted to go see them.”
Margaret stood up, too. “Are you sure he didn’t say anything more? Anything of a personal nature?” Her voice had softened.
“I don’t know!” Lizzy shouted, slapping her hands against her thighs.
It was time to create a diversion. Holding the two glasses of lemonade, I walked briskly toward the sisters and tried to make my voice sound upbeat. “Here we are. Margaret, I poured you a glass. Did you change your mind?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She accepted the lemonade with a shaking hand. Her brow was furrowed, and there was a tightness in the muscles around her eyes.
I held out a glass for Lizzy, but she just scowled at me. Her face was flushed, and her eyes hard with anger. “I’m going to my room. I just want to be left alone.”
“Lizzy—” Margaret reached out to her, but Lizzy ignored her and walked to the staircase. She clomped all the way up to the second-floor landing, and a few seconds later, she slammed her bedroom door.
Margaret sighed, her face crestfallen.
“She just needs a little time,” I offered. I did wonder why Lizzy was still so mad at Margaret. I would have thought that after what Lizzy had been through, she’d feel comforted by seeing her sister, but she seemed angrier than ever.
“I don’t know what to do with her.” Margaret’s eyes sought mine. She sipped her lemonade. “I never imagined Lizzy would ever meet someone like Edward Travis. Why was he even here?”
Oh gosh. She had no idea.
“We both work for Ambassador Films,” I explained. “I’m a costume designer. We are—were—working on a film together. He asked if he could have a party here at the farm.”
