Cruel as the Grave (27 page)

“Good lord!” Helena said. Everyone else, with the exception of Harold and Claudine, looked as stunned as Helena.

“Then who was Claudine’s father?” Gerard asked. “There’s no denying a family resemblance. I mean, it’s clear that she’s related to the Culpepers.”

“That came from her mother,” Maggie said, watching Claudine closely.

Claudine sat stone-faced.

“You mean Lavinia?” Ernie asked, her voice almost squeaking in disbelief. “Good heaven above.”

“Yes, Lavinia. Do any of you remember a time when Lavinia was away for a while, visiting family and friends back east?” Maggie asked.

Helena nodded emphatically. “I sure do. And if I remember correctly, it was during the time when Claudine would have been born.”

They all stared now at Claudine, but still she sat, refusing to acknowledge any of them.

“Then who was her father?” Gerard asked.

“I also found out,” Maggie said slowly, “that about this same time, my grandparents were going through a bad time in their marriage. They weren’t getting along, and it seems that it was because my grandfather had been having an affair. My grandmother discovered it, and between them, they apparently made everyone around them miserable.”

“Oh, my,” Helena said in a faint voice. “I knew Lavinia was always after Henry, but I never knew she caught up with him. Heavens to Murgatroyd!”

Claudine broke her silence by laughing. “You sure have been busy. You should be writing fiction, instead of Adrian here. You’ve got a real potboiler going, you know that? This is ridiculous!”

“No, it’s not,” Maggie said. “I’m sure a simple blood test will help resolve this. And maybe a look at the original birth certificate.”

Claudine shook her head. “Amazing. Why are you trying to pin this on me?”

“Because everything fits. You had the opportunity, and you certainly had the motive. You killed three people in cold blood.”

“Three people?” Claudine remained amused. “My, you certainly do have an active little imagination, honey. And here I thought you were supposed to be an intellectual, like your father. But you’re not very smart, after all, are you?”

Maggie refused to be baited. Instead she decided to push Claudine as far as she could. “You see what a lifetime of jealousy can do to someone. All her life Claudine’s been eaten up by it, because neither one of her parents ever acknowledged her publicly. Instead, she lived like a servant in her own father’s home. You might say they eventually caused their own deaths by the way they treated her, because the worm finally turned.” She stared straight at Claudine. ‘The poor little bastard child had to settle for second-or third-best all her life, because neither one of her parents wanted to own up to the truth.”

“You vicious little bitch!” Claudine said, her cool demeanor finally deserting her. She stood up. “You and your father waltz in here after twenty-five years, with not a single word to anyone in the family, and you get treated like royalty. While the rest of us stayed here, putting up with that old bastard and his every whim, and what do we get for it! I worked my ass off for him, and what did he ever do for me?”

“I’m not going to argue that one with you, Claudine,” Maggie said. “He treated you monstrously, as far as I’m concerned, and you had every right to be upset with him over that. But if you hadn’t pushed my grandmother down the stairs twenty-five years ago, you might have stood a better chance of winning his affection and public recognition as his daughter.”

Claudine laughed. “There’s no way anyone can prove that I pushed Magnolia down the stairs. Don’t be absurd!”

“No, you’re right,” Maggie said. “No one can prove that you did it. But I know you did it, and I notice you didn’t deny it, just now. They probably won’t prosecute you for my grandmother’s murder, you’re right about that, but it’s a different story with my grandfather’s murder. They’ll be able to find proof linking you to the murder weapon, and you’re not going to get out of that one.”

“What do you mean, ‘proof’?” Claudine asked.

“I have to say I admire your guts, Claudine. I don’t know that I’ve ever met anyone who’s as cool as you are. I mean, look at you, you’re wearing the evidence around your neck. That takes guts.”

Claudine’s left hand reached up, convulsively, to the scarf around her neck.

“I didn’t catch on to it, at first,” Maggie explained to the others. “It wasn’t until a little while ago, in the kitchen, that I remembered. Seeing you with the scarf again reminded me. You were wearing it that night, at dinner and when we went in to watch the movie. But I suddenly realized that you weren’t wearing it when Sylvia came downstairs and told us my grandfather had been murdered. I’m not sure what you did with it in the meantime. You probably washed it, but I doubt it came completely clean. I’m sure when the police examine it, they’ll find some traces of my grandfather’s blood on it, and maybe even some of that flaky varnish, from where you used it to grip the baseball bat when you beat him to death.”

Claudine didn’t flinch from the brutality of Maggie’s words.

“You don’t know what it was like, living in this family and being treated like a piece of furniture, most of the time. I deserved better.”

“I think you’d better come with me, Miss Sprayberry,” Latham said, coming around the table to where Claudine stood, still defiant.

“McLendon,” Claudine said. “Not Sprayberry.” Head held high, she went quietly out of the room with him.

***

Two mornings later, Maggie was in her bedroom, packing her suitcase for the return trip to Houston. She and her father had tickets for an early afternoon flight. Ernie and Helena were there, chattering away, discussing coverage of the murders in the local newspaper, while she worked.

“Lord have mercy,” Helena groaned, shaking the paper in front of her, “Henry and Magnolia must be rolling in their graves because of this!”

‘“Pride goeth before destruction,”’ Ernie intoned in a deep voice.

“Pride got them both murdered, I guess,” Maggie said, pausing for a moment in her packing.

“Yes, it did,” Ernie sighed loud and long. “But back then, they did what just about anyone else in their position would have done. Covered it all up, pretended Claudine was someone else’s child, just like they did. Heaven forbid that they should admit that she was really Henry’s daughter, and by his own wife’s sister! You can’t imagine what a scandal there would have been in Jackson back then.”

“And Magnolia couldn’t have stood that,” Helena said. “It was one thing to have people whisper behind her back about her brother, I guess, but she would have been mortified to show her face anywhere, if people knew her husband had been having an affair with her sister—and got her pregnant, to boot!”

“I don’t suppose she would have considered divorcing my grandfather,” Maggie observed.

“Divorce! Good grief, no,” Ernie laughed. “That would have been even worse. Besides, despite everything, she and Henry still loved each other, no matter how it must look.”

“Lavinia and Claudine didn’t stand a chance against Henry and Magnolia, that’s for sure,” Helena said. “Talk about iron will.”

“Claudine seems happy enough now to be dragging the family’s name in the mud,” Maggie said, gesturing toward the paper in Helena’s hands. The headline ran LAWYER’S SECRET FAMILY PROVES DEADLY.”

“I still can’t believe how cold she was about everything,” Ernie said. “Then, I guess, revenge is a dish best taken cold. Didn’t someone say that?”

“But that’s the way she always was, poor girl. Cold,” Helena said.

“Poor girl!” Ernie snorted. ‘That ‘poor girl’ murdered three people, and might have murdered more, if Maggie hadn’t caught on to her.”

“You weren’t around her much as a child,” Helena said, making a token protest. “You didn’t know her very well.” She paused. “Well, I guess I didn’t know her very well either, come to think of it. But what I mean is, she was always a bit reserved. Kept things to herself. She was always there in the background. If you asked her to do something, she’d do it, never say much about it. That’s the way she was.”

“And none of us ever had any idea who she really was.” Ernie was still marvelling over the facts of Claudine’s parentage.

“To think that she had such hatred inside,” Helena said. “That’s what I can’t get over! Where did it come from?”

Maggie turned from her packing and pointed toward the portrait of her grandmother. “There, for a start.”

“What do you mean?” Helena asked. “Your grandmother wasn’t to blame for all this. She was the injured party!”

“Was she?” Maggie said, walking toward the portrait. She stared at the face so like her own. How much was she really like her grandmother—on the inside?

She turned back to face Helena and Ernie. “I’ve heard so much about my grandmother these last few days, it’s hard to sort everything out. But I’ve heard time and again that she and Lavinia had a difficult relationship. Lavinia was always jealous of my grandmother. Okay, that happens. But did my grandmother do anything to try to counteract that jealousy? Did she do anything to help her sister grow out of those feelings? Or was it all Lavinia’s fault?”

Helena sighed. “Well, I have to admit, you’ve got a point. Magnolia seemed to enjoy rubbing Lavinia’s nose in it. Oh, I grant you, she usually did it subtly, but she did it just the same. No wonder Lavinia was so bitter.”

“And she fed that bitterness to Claudine, I expect,” Ernie said.

Maggie nodded. “She must have, over the years. I guess Claudine never really had a chance. It would have been better for her if she had been given up for adoption, so that some nice normal family could have reared her and given her a happy childhood. She can’t have been that happy here. With Lavinia around, telling her who-knows-what, filling her head with all sorts of things.”

“You really think Lavinia told her, early on, who her real parents were?” Helena asked.

“It’s the only answer that really fits,” Maggie said. “Think about it. Why else would Claudine have pushed Magnolia down the stairs like that? I imagine she thought that, if she could just get Magnolia out of the way, Lavinia and Henry would be free to marry, and then Claudine could have everything she ever wanted.”

“But surely you don’t think Lavinia encouraged Claudine to push Magnolia down those stairs!” Helena said.

“No, I don’t think she did,” Maggie said. “I don’t think Lavinia was that bitter, or that twisted. I think she was probably appalled by what happened, though of course at the time she just thought it was a tragic accident. When we confronted her with our theory about what happened, I think she finally put everything together and realized what her daughter had done, and why.”

“And maybe,” Ernie said softly, “that’s why she wanted those pills from Sylvia. She was going to kill herself.”

“Maybe,” Maggie said. “Or maybe she was going to kill her daughter, then herself. But Claudine found out and struck first, to protect herself, in case Lavinia planned to expose her.”

“So much damage done,” Ernie said. “So many lives hurt, or ruined completely.” She gazed at the portrait.

“Yes,” Maggie said. “Maybe it’s just as well I never knew her. I can love her, because she was my father’s mother, and he loved her. Dad and I had a long talk about this last night. For his sake, I can love her. But I wonder if I would have liked her.” She went back to her suitcase. Turning to face Ernie and Helena, she said, “I’m sorry, I know I sound impossibly judgmental and prissy. I don’t really mean to be. But, well, I just don’t know. It’s going to take me a long time to sort this all out and come to terms with it.”

“I know what you mean,” Helena said. “Only too well, I’m afraid. I loved her dearly, but sometimes she just wasn’t a nice person. Oh, dear.” Tears rolled down her face.

“There, there,” Ernie said, patting Helena on the knee. “She was human, like the rest of us. Just like Henry. For all the bad things they did, they also did some good things.” She paused. “Give me a while, and I’ll think of a few.” She made a face.

A knock sounded at the door. Maggie went to answer it. “Hello,” she said. “I’m almost done packing, if you came for the bags.”

“Not exactly,” Adrian said, coming into the room. He stopped when he saw Helena and Ernie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had someone with you.” He turned to go.

“We were just leaving,” Ernie announced, standing up. “Weren’t we, Helena?”

“What?” Helena said, wiping her eyes. “Oh, yes, got a thousand things to do.” She followed Ernie out of the room, after giving Maggie a quick hug.

The door shut behind them. Maggie stood awkwardly by the bed, wishing she could crawl inside the suitcase and close the lid over her head.

“I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you,” Adrian said. “Things have been rather crazy the last couple of days, and I haven’t had much chance.”

“No,” Maggie laughed nervously, “after my big Jessica Fletcher act the other night, things have been a bit busy here.”

“You handled it very well,” Adrian said.

“Thank you.”

“Look, Maggie,” he said, in a very determined tone, “I think I finally figured out what went wrong.”

“What do you mean?” she said, though she knew what he was talking about.

“I mean, between us,” Adrian replied. “It took me longer than it should have to realize that Claudine must have said something to you. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?”

Maggie nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to repeat what Claudine had said, and she hoped he wouldn’t ask.

“I can just imagine,” Adrian said bitterly, “what she must have said. That I’m only interested in you because of the money you might inherit from your grandfather. That was probably the least of it.”

“No, that was about it,” she said, her voice low.

“And you didn’t know me well enough to realize that I’m not like that!” Adrian said. “At first, I was angry with you, for falling for something as obvious as that.” He grinned. “But when I thought about it, I couldn’t really blame you. This whole situation was so bizarre, you were right not to trust someone you barely knew.”

“Thank you," Maggie said, relieved. “I was more than a bit confused, and I just didn’t know what to think.” She stared down at her hands. “Then, when I finally figured out the truth about Claudine, I didn’t know how to say to you that I was sorry for thinking what I’d been thinking.”