A Will To Murder (21 page)

The next morning people tried to keep close to the telephone.  Colette's body was at the funeral parlor, and Douthit would be calling when he discovered what had killed her.  Eric fidgeted on the I-shaped sofa.  Bradley had sat on the other sofa, only to spring up when he remembered that this had been Colette’s preferred spot.  He was sitting next to Eric, now.

Lance was drunk.  His mouth hung open as he chewed his cereal in the dining room, and his bloodshot eyes were half-closed.  Jac sat with him to make sure he was eating.  She had also been keeping Lance’s glass well filled with bourbon.  None of the family wanted to argue with her about it, as the alcohol seemed to make Lance docile.  Everyone was jittery.

“Why don't you go out and play?” Rose said to her son.  The boy was draped over the back of Eric’s couch, wondering why Colette had died.  She had been reasonably well the night before.

“There's no one to play with,” replied Arthur. “Richie's no fun, and Briarly hasn't wanted to play since Aunt Katherine died.”

“Then go and ask her,” Bert ordered.  

Gloomily, the boy went upstairs, supposing he'd been banished, too.  He found Briarly standing in front of his parents' bedroom door.  The girl seemed nervous, and she was twisting her hair.  “I'm supposed to play with you,” Arthur announced with a made-to-eat-his-vegetables enthusiasm.  “Do you want to try a board game?”

“Maybe,” she replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes.  She was about as cheerful as mud.  Katherine’s death had only touched him lightly, because he had barely known her before this visit.  Nor had Colette’s demise been too hard for him, because his crush on her had waned after she sprayed him.  

They went inside the rec room, and Arthur was laying out a dusty Monopoly board when Briarly said, “I hear you have a really neat coin that you inherited from Grandad.  Can I see it?”

The coin was too valuable to pass around, but Arthur was feeling weak.  Everyone had been ignoring it so far.  He handed the case over with the air of a sultan granting a favor.  After all, Briarly wasn't Richie.  Or so Arthur thought until she ran out of the room with the coin case.

“Hey!” he yelled.  He couldn't believe it.  Briarly had just stolen his coin!  He threw himself after her, furious with himself for trusting her.  She was headed towards the back staircase.  If she reached her brother's, Richie would join her and Arthur knew he'd never get the coin back.  Arthur tackled her right in front of the stairs.  “Gimme that coin, or I'll tell everyone you tried to steal it!”

Briarly only swore violently, and Arthur was amazed at all the words she knew.  She was way ahead of him in this sort of expertise.  She rolled out from under him, but since he was now blocking the way up, she reversed direction and headed down the stairs.  Arthur called out one of the words she had used, thought it sounded pretty good, and ran after her.

At first, Briarly went for the side door under the arch, but the boy threw himself across her path.  If he could get her herded into the living room, the grownups would stop them and investigate.  Sensing this, she tried to find a way past him, dancing just out of his reach.  Her face was scrunched with determination.

“Give me that coin,” Arthur shouted, trying to alert the grownups.

At the very moment he yelled, the phone rang loudly, masking his words and startling both children.  They heard someone coming, and Briarly took the only escape route left, running madly into the kitchen.  Arthur was right after her.

They flew past Jac and Mrs. Marshpool, both of whom were stepping briskly into the summer room for the phone, and the children almost bowled the housekeeper over.          “What!?” yelped Mrs. Marshpool.  

“They're just playing,” said Jac dismissively, reaching for the receiver.

For a moment Mrs. Marshpool teetered, unsure whether to chase the children and administer chastisement, or bulldoze Jac aside and grab the phone herself.  This call might be from Douthit, and the housekeeper desperately wanted to hear the news about Colette.

“Hello,” said Jac into the phone.

“Mrs. Salisbury.”  The housekeeper held out a hand.  Jac waved her off and continued to talk.  “Yes, Mr. Douthit, we were waiting to hear from you.”

“Mrs. Salisbury!  Give that to me and go do something about those awful children!”

Jac placed the receiver against her chest and said with menace, “Shut up, Marshpool.  I'll tell you what Douthit said after I'm done.”  She placed the receiver to her ear again.  “I'm sorry, we were interrupted.  What was that?”

Mrs. Marshpool gazed speechlessly at her opponent.  At this point she would practically have to get into a fist fight for that phone, but the housekeeper was not willing to humiliate herself.  Nor was she sure she would receive any sympathy--or win.  Armagnac had just stepped into the summer room, but he ignored the housekeeper as he concentrated on Jac's replies.  Angrily, Mrs. Marshpool stalked after the children.

In the kitchen, Briarly had tried for the door outside, but Sheila was inadvertently blocking it.  The cook’s hips were in the way as she rolled out dough for scones on the breakfast table.  The girl dodged aside into the laundry room just as Arthur tried to grab her.  Arthur was pleased.  He finally had her trapped.

“Give me that penny!”

“No!”

“Give me that penny, or, or, I'll--” He strained to think of the worst thing he could do to a girl.

“Hey, you two,” said Sheila, looking over her shoulder, “you shouldn’t be roughhousing right now.”

“Or I'll lick you!” Arthur stormed.

“I'll lick you back,” Briarly retorted.

This made the boy pause.  He had not expected such a diabolical countermove.

“I'll lick you first!” he replied.

“No, you won't!” said Briarly.

The two children began to dance and lunge at each other, tongues out.  Then their tongues accidently touched.  At this disaster, such screams and howls broke out, such gaggings and spittings, that Sheila collapsed laughing against the table.

As Arthur reeled, he caught a glimpse of the cook's fair face as Sheila’s stomach convulsed and her eyes teared.  Didn't the cook understand that he was in dire peril?!

The housekeeper burst into the kitchen.  Though yearning to rend the children, Mrs. Marshpool felt she did not have the time.  The children were seized and chucked  out the kitchen door before they knew what was happening.  Briarly flew over a bush and rolled, while Arthur sprawled in a heap.

Slowly, the girl sat up. “What a
horrible
experience,” she said.  She was not referring to being ejected.

Arthur was scrubbing his tongue furiously on his sleeve. “It was like licking a pan full of cold bacon grease,” he said wonderingly, “all slimy and wet.”  Then he glared at her.  “Give me that penny!”

Briarly took off again, Arthur in pursuit.  Then he noticed she didn't have the case in her hand.  She must have dropped it!  He raced back to the spot where the girl had fallen, snatched the case up, and went back inside the kitchen.  Mrs. Marshpool or not, he had to risk the housekeeper.  

Seeing him escape, Briarly faltered, then stopped.  

Once inside, the boy checked the room.  Only Sheila was there.  The cook shook her head at him, but he paid no attention.  Looking out a window, he saw Briarly walking away.  

Quickly, Arthur scouted out the housekeeper by the telephone and ran up the front stairs to avoid her.  Then he hid the coin case in his parents’ room, in the most unlikely place he could think of, directly underneath the trash basket.  Afterwards, he flopped down on the bed and pondered.  He hadn't realized Briarly could be so jealous.

Downstairs, Jac had just received the report about Colette.  “Yes, she did,” Jac was saying into the phone. “She had bronchitis.”

“What was that?” said her brother.

“Douthit wants to know if Colette had any pre-existing medical conditions.  She also smoked,” continued Mrs. Salisbury into the receiver. “Her lungs must have been in terrible shape.”

She fell silent for a while, listening.  “Colette also complained that the dust and mold in her bedroom bothered her.”  Jac glanced at Marshpool.  Flustered, the housekeeper stepped closer to Armagnac.

“We're glad to have that cleared up.  People here were pretty upset.  Thanks, goodbye.”  Jac hung up.  “Douthit says that Colette died of an asthmatic reaction complicated by bronchitis and her smoking.  She threw up while having an asthma attack and suffocated on her own vomit.”

Rose let out a horrified moan, and even Mrs. Marshpool looked taken aback.       

Lance stared dully at the floor.  “My sister didn't have asthma,” he said.

“It can start under the right conditions, if something triggers an allergy,” Jac told him.  “And the bronchitis and smoking didn't help.”

After listening to this, Eric went upstairs for his car keys.  This time when he called Wendy he didn’t want to be overheard--he was going to make his call from Chichiteaux.

“Well, turn the ringer off so no one disturbs us,” said Boyle to his sister.  “I’m afraid the newspapers are going to take an interest this time.”

When Arthur came down the back staircase, the knot of people gathered at the phone had dispersed into the living room.  Suddenly, a male voice sounded from the answering machine.  For a few seconds the machine recorded, then the caller hung up.  Arthur hadn't understood the message, but the man’s angry tone frightened him.  The message must be very important, then.  He decided to be helpful and replay it so he could catch who the message was for.  He pressed the play button and the message began.  Then he pushed another button, thinking to save it, and the machine said, “Message deleted.”

Arthur froze.  

The machine began to record again, and the boy listened, paralyzed, as Kyle Walker identified himself and said he was sorry he couldn't get hold of anyone, but Hamilton needed to discuss Katherine's will with the family.  However, his partner would be delayed.  Hamilton was out on his yacht, and a squall had blown up, and only now was it beginning to die away.  It would be some hours before the lawyer could reach land.  So Hamilton would drive out to Rollingwood tomorrow, Walker added.

After the machine finished recording, Arthur, in a panic, looked around to see if anyone had noticed what he'd done.  His parents would tell him to behave like a grownup and confess he’d destroyed the first message.  

But of course grownups never worried about confessing, he thought irritably.  No one ever spanked them for it.  It didn't matter if he did the noble thing, he'd just get spanked anyway.  Absolute silence was obviously the best course here.  But Arthur hesitated.  What if the message was important?  Then he had an idea.

Upstairs, he knocked quietly on the door of James' room.  “Mr. Maxwell?” he called out shyly.       

“Come in, Arthur,” said Eric, who had just found his car keys.  “Did you need to talk about something?”

“I accidentally, um, messed up the answering machine,” said Arthur hesitantly, once Eric's door was closed.

“And I'm a safely neutral person to tell, huh?  What did you do, drop it?”

“I accidentally deleted a message I was trying to replay.”

“Was the message an old one or a new one?  If it's old, someone's probably listened to it already.”

“No!” said the boy, agitated.  “It had only just recorded.”

“Oh, that's nothing.  They'll just call back if it's important.  Do you remember who it was for?”

Arthur told him, and added, “The guy said he was calling from the Green Mountain racetrack.”

“He'll just assume his message got overlooked because of all the excitement here,” the reporter assured him, “he'll understand.”

The boy’s eyes were wide.  It had been a rough day for him, being mugged by Briarly and attacked by Marshpool.  Then he recalled he had something even more important to talk about.   

“What's the matter?”

So Arthur told him about the bloody scythe in the barn and the bloody handfork in the shed.  Eric listened closely.

After Arthur left, the reporter made for the hall phone anyway.  He decided he couldn't waste the time driving into town.  “There's been another death,” he told Wendy, and repeated the coroner's diagnosis.  “Though Colette smoked, she didn’t seem very sick.  I thought she was getting over her cough.”  Eric was sure any girl inclined to run a hand down his leg must not be feeling
too
badly.  He didn’t mention this to Wendy, though.  

“But Douthit
did
do an autopsy?”

“Yeah, though it may not have been very competent.”

Wendy sighed.  “The state medical examiner will have to re-autopsy her.  Why Colette?  She wasn’t going to inherit anything except that ten thousand dollars, but nothing once Woofie was gone.  And why not kill Lance as well?”

“I can’t guess, either.”  

“Well, let’s give up on her for the moment.  Do you have anything new?”  

“I’ve more on Heydrick.  But first, Arthur told me something else about that shed.  Do you remember his story about seeing the CD case there?  He claims he saw a bloody handfork next to it.  Willowby said Heydrick only bought a lock the day the housepainters came and never kept the shed locked before then.  I tried to look inside, but the shed didn’t have any cracks or windows, unfortunately.  This sounds too convenient, but Arthur might be telling the truth.”

“A handfork?”

“I think it’s also called a cultivator.  You rake the soil with it.”

“I wouldn’t know.  I’m a city girl who can’t keep a houseplant alive.”

“Arthur also says he saw a bloody scythe hanging inside the barn, not too far from where Woofie was found.”

“Little Arthur sounds rather fanciful.  Could you drive to the farm and see if the scythe is real?”

“Uh,” said Eric.  He had not thought this far ahead.  “I suppose I could.  I do know that all the family has keys to the farm gate, and all the servants.  The only ones who don’t seem to have keys are the Wileys.  What did you discover about Heydrick’s criminal record?”

“He did seven years.  He got into a fight outside a bar, pulled a knife and stabbed the other guy to death.  The jury ruled manslaughter.”