A Skeleton in the Closet (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) (20 page)

I imagined trying to get up the nerve to bring up a subject like that with my own father, shuddered, and took another sip. “I can certainly understand that.”

Lavinia
gazed through the windows behind me, becoming lost in the memory of that long-ago evening. “What I didn’t tell you or
Ada
or the good lieutenant was that I remembered something else about that night. I heard two voices in Papa’s study, a man’s and a woman’s. But it wasn’t just conversation going on in there, oh no. Just as I approached the study door, the woman became quite distraught, almost hysterical, you might say. I couldn’t hear most of it, but there was something about her husband knowing, or having found out something, and then what sounded like crying. Quite naturally, I believe, my instinct was to help her, even if my father was in there with her. I tapped on the door and tried the knob. The voices stopped but not before I heard distinct shushing noises. I realize now that Papa must have been trying to get her to quiet down.” She paused. “Since I didn’t hear her make another sound, he must have succeeded.”

I refrained from commenting, not wanting to break her reverie, and swallowed the last of my sherry. Her revelations were disturbing, to say the least. Slowly, her eyes left the window and refocused on mine. “Do you see? I never heard her make another sound.” And then
Lavinia
, too, fell abruptly silent.

We sat like that for a moment, considering the implications of what the young
Lavinia
had heard. Henry, growing bored with human conversation, scrambled to the floor and trotted off busily to the kitchen. I thought back to what
Lavinia
had told us earlier. “If I remember what you said correctly, it was right after that when the Judge arranged to have the special closet built in the basement.”

“Why, yes, it was. Something about diaries and trial records that he wanted to keep for his memoirs but he didn’t want anyone else to see. I thought it was other people’s secrets he was trying to keep, but now … now I’m not so sure. For one thing, why would he have anyone else’s diary? That’s a very personal record, not a legal document.”

I gave that some thought, and I had to admit it didn’t make any sense. I took a deep breath and came right out with the question on the tip of my tongue. “
Lavinia
, do you think your father was having an affair with a married woman, and that was the secret he wanted to keep?”

Her eyes grew round with distress, but she answered me unwaveringly. “That has occurred to me. It was wartime. Most of the younger men were serving, and many had been gone for years. Papa was a very distinguished-looking man and very popular with the ladies. It’s not entirely unthinkable that … well, that he became inappropriately involved with one of his clients.” Further than that,
Lavinia
could not bring herself to go, and I didn’t push her.

As gently as I could, I asked, “But even if that were true, and I’m not saying it was, why on earth would he want to keep any sort of documents in the house that might point to such a relationship?” Then I answered my own question silently.
Blackmail.
Either he was blackmailing the woman, or more likely, he was using the papers as insurance against her blackmailing him.

If that possibility had occurred to
Lavinia
, she didn’t mention it. “I have no idea whatever. I don’t like to keep secrets from my sister, but I truly don’t see what useful purpose it would serve for me to confide all of this to
Ada
. It was a very long time ago, and her memories of dear Papa are precious to her.” She took a breath. “What I need to know is
,
should I tell any of this to the police? Might it help solve this dreadful crime?”

It was a poser, for sure. On the one hand,
Lavinia’s
recollections might well help trace the identity of the body. Surely, there must be records of women reported missing around that time. The flip side was that
Lavinia’s
memory of the evening in question might not be accurate. It had been more than sixty years since she had overheard the scene in her father’s study—or thought she had. She herself had questioned the accuracy of her recollection. I struggled to think of something wise to say, but in the end, I had to promise to give it some hard thought and telephone her before lunch tomorrow. This called for consultation with Margo and
Strutter
.

“
Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf
!”
This time, both of us were startled enough to jump. We had been so focused on our conversation, we hadn’t noticed that dusk had fallen outside the parlor windows; and while Henry could certainly be heard, he was nowhere in sight.

“Goodness! It’s nearly dark outside. Let me turn on a lamp. Where could that silly dog have gotten to?”
Lavinia
got to her feet rather unsteadily, whether from the effects of the sherry or from sitting too long, it was hard to say. She groped her way to a side table and switched on a lamp, then looked around for Henry. “Henry! Come here! There’s a good dog.” She clapped her hands together sharply and waited expectantly.

The evening breeze coming in the front window had turned sharply cool, and I shivered slightly. “Do you mind if I close this window?”

“Not at all,” she responded distractedly and moved into the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Henry! Where have you gotten to?”

I rose to my feet and realized that the sherry had been a lot more potent than I thought; but then, I had consumed a good deal of it, thanks to
Lavinia’s
hospitality and Henry’s yapping.
So much for sherry being the genteel libation of clergymen and old ladies.
This stuff packed a wallop. With difficulty, I wrestled the window shut and tottered after
Lavinia
. Halfway down the hall, the basement door stood open. “
Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf
!” shrilled Henry from the nether regions, and my heart sank. No amount of sherry in the world was going to make me happy about going down into that basement again, but I could hardly let an eighty-something-year-old woman tackle those stairs, not to mention that dog, on her own.

Nevertheless, that seemed to be precisely what
Lavinia
intended to do. “Now how did that door get open?” she mused, twisting the doorknob. “I’m quite certain the locksmith tested this new lock before he left.” She pushed in the button that locked the door from the hall side. Then she shut the door firmly and twisted the door again. “See? It works perfectly. Oh!
Ada
must have left the door open when she came up with the sherry from the wine cupboard.”
She
tsk-ed
her annoyance.
“Now Henry has got down there.”
Recklessly, she yanked the door back open and started down the dark stairs, feeling for the light switch.

Horrified at the possible consequences, I moved to help, if not stop, her. “I’ll get the light,” I offered, but despite repeated flips of the switch, the dim bulb I remembered hanging from a cord at the foot of the stairs refused to light. Perfect. Muffled growls and yips attested to the fact that Henry was indeed in the basement. If I really had to go down there after him, I wanted some light. “Wait,
Lavinia
. Let’s get a flashlight, at least.” I groped down two more steps unwillingly, feeling my way along the wall, but
Lavinia
had already reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Henry! Come here at once,” she commanded sharply. To my utter amazement, he obeyed, flying past us up the stairs and zooming down the hallway, giddy with his adventure.
Lavinia
, who was obviously familiar with the basement terrain, reappeared from the gloom and climbed up to join me. “Well, that’s a relief,” she remarked, and I heartily agreed. Henry scampered back down the hall to the kitchen, where he became unusually quiet.
Having a drink of water, perhaps.

I had reached the top step, with
Lavinia
right behind me, when the door slammed shut. Clunking and rustling sounds emanated from the other side. Had Henry bumped the door shut? “Oh, dear,” said
Lavinia
, clutching my shoulder. Oh, dear, indeed. I felt for the door and tried the knob.
Securely locked, of course, thanks to the shiny new hardware.

“Now what?”
I asked a bit sourly. This evening was going downhill fast.

Lavinia
sank to a sitting position on the step below me. “Now we wait for
Ada
to get home from bingo, I suppose. I can’t think of anything else to do, can you?”

If I had my cell phone in my pocket, where Emma and Margo were always telling me to keep it, I could have called someone for help. But I didn’t. It was upstairs in my purse, which I had set down next to me in the parlor. My heart rose as I heard distant sounds from somewhere in the house – the kitchen?
the
parlor?—followed by footsteps. Thank goodness. It had to be
Ada
, home early from bingo. “Hello!” I called out loudly to attract her attention. “It’s Kate and
Lavinia
. We’re locked in the basement.” I pressed my ear to the door to get some idea of
Ada
’s
whereabouts.

“
Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf
!” yapped Henry gleefully a few inches from my
ear,
and I fell backward over
Lavinia
, tumbling down and down the dark staircase until the blackness in my head became one with the darkness that engulfed us.

* * *

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Armando’s face scrunched into a worried frown. “Hi, Handsome,” I greeted him idiotically, then winced as the pain from the back of my head, right elbow, and left ankle hit me in that order. If I had expected tender expressions of concern from the love of my life, I was disappointed.

“
!
Nunca
creí
que
fueras
tan
supremamente
estúpida
!”
He rose from where he had been kneeling next to the parlor settee on which I lay and stalked to the doorway leading to the hallway. He folded both arms across his chest and scowled as two paramedics, apparently called during my blackout, attended to business. When they had finished shining flashlights into my eyes, fitting me with an air cast, and wrapping my elbow in icy packs, they took their leave, admonishing me to go straight to the nearest emergency room if I experienced double vision or nausea. The younger of the two, himself a Latino, gave Armando a calculating look in passing.
“
Cálmate
, hombre.
Chill.”
Fat chance.

“Oh, dear,”
Lavinia
fluttered as
Ada
showed the two men out. “Is he upset?” She glanced nervously at Armando, who maintained his rigid stance in the doorway.

“That would be my guess,” I agreed. I had reason to know that under stress, Armando reverted to his native Spanish. I hadn’t understood every word of tonight’s commentary, but the part about my being incredibly stupid had come through loud and clear.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have called him, but he was the emergency contact person listed on the card in your wallet. I’m so sorry to have had to look through your things,”
Lavinia
apologized yet again.

I struggled to a sitting position. Henry jumped up on the settee next to me and lapped wetly at my face, a conciliatory gesture after his part in the evening’s drama. Since he was still festooned with cobwebs from his basement foray, and his breath was redolent of whatever his evening snack had been, I wasn’t particularly happy about this improvement in our relationship. However, one look at Armando, glowering darkly at me from across the room, caused me to rethink my alliances.
Any friend in a storm.

When we arrived home, Armando installed me in my bedroom with absolute correctness, comforter up to my chin, herbal tea and Advil on the nightstand. Throughout the short ride home, which we had made in his sporty little Honda, leaving my car to be collected in the morning, our conversation was perfunctory. Could I manage the low seat? I could. Did it need to be adjusted to accommodate the cast on my leg? No, it was fine.

Having done his duty as a gentleman to his satisfaction, he bid me a cool goodnight, no kiss, and withdrew haughtily to his bachelor quarters on the second floor. Well, at least the events of the evening had served to shelve any further discussion of marriage. I knew Armando well enough to know that the root cause of his anger was his fear that something terrible might have happened to me. I could only imagine his feelings as he tore through the night after
Lavinia’s
call announcing that I was unconscious following a serious fall down a flight of stairs, and the paramedics were in attendance. Once his fear had been assuaged, he allowed himself the luxury of being furious at my putting
myself
in such a precarious position. Apparently, going down into a dark basement to retrieve a ditsy dog was man’s work. Had I called him, or presumably some other man, to take care of the matter, this whole situation could have been avoided, his thinking would go.