Cruel as the Grave (20 page)

“Good night, Maggie,” Adrian replied. “Sleep well.” He gave her one last, long look, which she failed to see as she slipped out of the room, closing the door jerkily behind her.

Her thoughts whirled as she ran up the stairs and down the long hall to her bedroom.
What was I thinking?
she chastised herself.
Girl you're an idiot!
She sat on the bed and tried to catch her breath.

She had been in her room only a few minutes when someone knocked on the door and interrupted a very pleasant reverie. Hastily checking her face in the mirror over the elegant dresser, Maggie was relieved to see that her lips were only slightly redder than normal. Hearing another knock, she quickly went to the door. “Who is it?” she asked, her hands on the lock.

“Claudine” was the briskly offered answer. Maggie opened the door, and Claudine strode in without an invitation. From the middle of the room she turned to face Maggie.

“You and I need to talk,” Claudine announced flatly. “It’s time someone told you the truth about your dear grandmother.”

Chapter Fourteen

“What do you mean?” Maggie demanded, closing the door behind her. She leaned back against the door and contemplated her visitor with ill-concealed curiosity.

“I mean,” Claudine replied slowly, “that your grandmother wasn’t the little plaster saint that everybody’s been telling you she was.” She sat down in one of the chairs near the French doors and motioned for Maggie to join her. After a momentary hesitation, Maggie complied with Claudine’s imperious gesture.

“Well?” Maggie inquired when Claudine failed to follow up her statement right away.

“Look,” Claudine said, “I just spent nearly an hour trying to calm Lavinia down, and my temper’s a little frayed. I certainly don’t mean to take it out on you, but this idea of yours—and Helena and Ernie who damn well ought to know better!—that Lavinia murdered your grandmother is a little too much. Lavinia’s awfully upset. She has a problem with high blood pressure, and scenes like I saw tonight don’t do her any good.”

“No one really accused her of murdering my grandmother,” Maggie pointed out in a mild tone. “I regret that she became so upset, but we were merely asking her some questions about the day of my grandmother’s death. Did she tell you about that?”

Claudine nodded. “Yes, she did. Now I grant you, Lavinia and Magnolia didn’t always get along too well. I was only a kid at the time, but I can remember overhearing some of their arguments. You wouldn’t have thought two supposedly refined southern ladies knew such language.” She leaned forward in her chair. “The point is. Magnolia and Lavinia weren’t that much different. That’s why they never got along too well. Your grandmother was strong-willed and didn’t like it too well when someone didn’t do just what she wanted.”

At the moment Maggie was neutral, despite the angry tenor of Claudine’s remarks. Perhaps she should have been hurt by what Claudine was saying, because, thus far, no one else had offered her such a view of her grandmother and she had built up a different mental picture from the one Claudine was forcing on her. Everyone else had talked about how well-loved Magnolia McLendon had been, with nary a whisper of ill-feeling toward her. But neither had anyone, as far as Maggie could remember, attempted to convince her that her grandmother had been, in Claudine’s words, a “little plaster saint.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied, “so she was strong-willed and liked to have her own way. What of it?”

Claudine uttered a quick grunt of irritation. “The point I’m trying to make here is that Lavinia wasn’t the only one who couldn’t get along with your grandmother, despite what Helena probably told you. Before you start casting Lavinia as chief villain in your little drama, you ought to check out the rest of us.”

Still cool, but definitely intrigued, Maggie replied, “I’m willing to listen, so why don’t you keep talking? But I do want to ask one question—why are you so determined to defend Lavinia?”

Claudine laughed sourly. “Lavinia’s capable of conducting her own defense if she can ever get past feeling sorry for herself over all this ‘persecution.’ I’m not really doing this for Lavinia’s sake, but you just can’t expect to pop into this family one day and hand out judgments without knowing the whole story—or stories, as the case may be.”

“Fair enough,” Maggie responded equably, though her temper was beginning to fray around the edges. “Like I said, I’m willing to hear the other stories. Are you willing to tell them?”

If Claudine was disconcerted by Maggie’s forthright approach, she concealed it well. She shrugged. “Might as well, I guess, at least what I know.” She challenged Maggie with a direct look. “Am I right, though, that Helena’s the source of most of your information?”

Maggie nodded, and Claudine smiled in amused satisfaction. “Then we might as well start with her. Helena did get along with your grandmother pretty well, because Helena always did exactly what Magnolia told her to. Until your grandmother died, Helena wouldn’t’ve gone to the bathroom by herself unless someone told her it was okay. She’s a lot different these days—practically liberated in comparison— but as long as your grandmother was alive, Helena was the meekest creature on earth. She never spoke until someone spoke to her, and even then she had very little to say. Your grandfather didn’t have much patience with her, so he let Magnolia run her life for her, and believe me, back then someone needed to. If Helena had been left on her own, she would have messed things up royally.”

Does Claudine know about the pregnancy and the child given up for adoption?
Maggie wondered. Could this be what she referred to? Surely she must know, she argued to herself. Everyone in the family seemed to know everyone else's secrets, so why should Claudine be any different?

But, in case Claudine didn’t know, how could she ascertain this without giving away Helena’s secret? Then an appalling thought struck her. Suppose Claudine meant that it was actually Magnolia, rather than Henry, who had insisted upon Helena’s giving up the baby for adoption?

For the first time during this discussion, Maggie’s pose of detachment began to falter. The thought that her grandmother might have connived at, or even instigated, the horrible deception practiced upon Helena sickened her.

“What do you mean by that?” Maggie demanded. “How would Helena have messed up her life?”

Claudine’s lip curled. “The only man she ever got up the nerve to talk to turned out to be a con man, and Helena let things go too far and ended up pregnant. Naturally it wouldn’t do for a McLendon to have an illegitimate child—at least one that everyone in Jackson knew about—so your grandfather arranged for the baby to be given up for adoption. He packed Retty and Helena off to Boston without telling anyone what his real plans were. Your grandmother was furious when she realized what had happened, because she could have persuaded Helena to think it was her own idea all along, and Helena would have been happier with the way things turned out. She could talk Helena into anything. As it was, your grandfather just made her really bitter against him.”

Relieved, Maggie drew a shaky breath, causing Claudine to peer at her suspiciously. “Didn’t Helena already tell you all this?” she asked.

Maggie nodded. “But, as I’m sure you’d agree, it’s necessary to hear confirmation from other sources. After all, that’s your purpose, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Claudine conceded, clearly uncertain whether she ought to be offended by the tartness of the remark.

“What about some of the others?” Maggie continued. “Harold, for instance.”

Claudine laughed. “This has never been a real liberal household, so I bet you can guess how much your grandparents loved having a homosexual in the family. Your grandfather could never even bring himself to acknowledge the fact that his only brother was ‘queer’—I think it was completely beyond his comprehension. Magnolia was usually more forward-thinking than your grandfather, but not on this issue. They didn’t exactly refuse to allow Harold to come home, but they certainly didn’t throw out the red carpet either. After Magnolia died, Henry just didn’t seem to care anymore, and we saw Harold a lot more after that.”

Claudine’s revelations convinced Maggie that it was even more important now to have a long talk with Harold. What Claudine had told her didn’t convince her that Harold had had a strong motive to murder his brother and sister-in-law. But hearing his recollections of the past would certainly offer a different perspective on the two deaths, and every bit of fresh insight into the problem might lead that much more quickly to a solution.

“Anybody else who had a reason to dislike my grandmother?” Maggie asked.

“Retty.” Claudine stretched in her chair. “Retty’s husband died when I was still a small child, and he didn't leave Retty and their son too well off. Retty’s son, Lionel Junior, hadn’t been married very long then—he got married while he was still in college. When Lionel Senior died there wasn’t enough money left for Lionel Junior to finish college, much less support a wife, so Henry stepped in and took over. Lionel finished college and went on to law school, and Henry took him into the law firm when he graduated. Retty had to sell her house, so Henry insisted she move back in with the rest of the family here.

“Retty has always been the exact opposite of Helena. She’s got at least two opinions on everything, and she’ll tell you what they are without any prompting. Back when she first moved in here permanently, she was also used to running her own house, and it didn’t set too well with her to have to step back and be a permanent guest in someone else’s house. She kept trying to interfere with the way Magnolia ran the house, always bringing up her ‘little ideas’ for improvements. She nearly drove Mother crazy, trying to get her to do things behind Magnolia’s back. Finally, your grandfather put his foot down when Retty and Magnolia had it out one day after a Ladies’ Guild luncheon here. From that point on, Retty barely spoke to Magnolia.”

Thus far Claudine had talked about Lavinia, Helena, Harold, and Retty. Sylvia, of course, had been much too young at the time to be considered seriously as a suspect in Magnolia’s death. Sylvia’s parents had died about a year before Magnolia, if Maggie remembered correctly what Helena had told her. That left two people unaccounted for.

“What about my grandfather?” Maggie asked.

This time Claudine was disconcerted and showed it. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said,” she responded impatiently. “What about my grandfather? Was he as devoted to my grandmother as everyone has said?”

Claudine nodded emphatically. “That’s the one thing you could bank on. He was as strong-willed as she was, and they had their arguments, mostly over your father, but they adored each other.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied, impressed by the force of Claudine’s assurance. “That leaves us with one person—you. How did you get along with my grandmother?”

“Oh,” Claudine laughed uneasily. “I was the poor little bastard child, grateful for crumbs from the family table.” She looked impishly at Maggie, registering the distaste she saw in her cousin’s face. “Yes, cousin dear, I had a delightful childhood. Kinda like one of those Victorian governesses in those books your grandmother was always having me read. They never really could decide, your grandparents, just how I fit into the family. I was family, but my mother was an uneducated servant, of all things, so they settled on tolerating having me around, as long as I didn’t overstep any boundaries.” She laughed again and couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out.

Maggie didn’t know how to respond. Claudine had spoken flippantly, but underneath the indifferent exterior the woman obviously spoke from long-harbored feelings. Commiserating with her would probably seem patronizing, Maggie thought, so she said nothing at the risk of seeming insensitive.

Abruptly Claudine stood up. “One more little bit of advice, cousin. Though I don’t think you’re going to appreciate it.”

“What’s that?” Maggie said.

“Stay away from Adrian. He’s gorgeous, and he’s a smooth talker.” Bitter self-reproach twisted her face into an ugly mask. “I should know. Oh, he’ll be interested in you, no doubt about that. You’re attractive, and now you’re probably going to be rich, once they’ve read Henry’s will. Just the way Mr. Smooth Talk likes them.”

Stunned, Maggie stared up at her.

“You and your father are real happy now, I guess.” Claudine bared her teeth.

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked, her teeth clenched.

“All the money you’re going to inherit,” Claudine said. “Money that you didn’t earn, like the rest of us did, living here year after year, taking orders from that old tyrant.”

“Get out,” Maggie said. Cold rage swept through her. If Claudine remained in her room a moment longer, Maggie didn’t know what she would do. She thought of several nasty things she could say, but she restrained herself. The whole episode had sickened her completely.

Claudine backed away as Maggie stood. Slowly she walked toward the door, opened it, then pulled it shut behind her.

Trembling now from the aftereffects of the confrontation with Claudine, Maggie walked with shaky steps toward the door and locked it. Then she went into the bathroom and checked to make sure that the door there was locked as well. Suppressing the urge to vomit, she instead made her preparations for bed, her mind numb for the moment.

Once the room was dark and she was snuggled into the bed covers, she tried to relax. She felt as if she’d been stripped naked. Part of Claudine’s hateful remarks she recognized for what they were: jealousy. But a small part of her couldn’t stop acknowledging that Claudine just might be right about Adrian’s interest in her. Why else would such an attractive man display such an obvious interest in her, and at a time like this? And she had played right into his hands. She called herself all kinds of fool, holding the tears back with fierce determination. Finally, she willed herself to think about something else.

Instead, she focused on the other things Claudine had told her. Claudine’s information gave her a more rounded view of the people in the household at the time of Magnolia McLendon’s death. But Claudine’s evidence, if one could call it that, needed verification. Maggie was reluctant to approach Helena for this purpose. She decided Ernie might be more frank with her.