Death By Drowning (15 page)

“That doesn’t explain how he knew the code for the security system,” said Jake.

“I gave the code to Charles’ daughters so they could get into the house for the tours,” said Matt, “but they were to keep it a secret.”

“I also gave them a briefing on security for the house,” rejoined Jake, looking irritated.

“Charles probably has the code number written somewhere near the key,” I said. “The key is no good without the security code.”

“Christ,” muttered Jake. “There are just too many people coming and going out of this house with too much information,” he said looking hard at Matt.

“I guess that is directed at me,” replied Matt. “She’s got to make a living and this house is one of the few ways Josiah can make money in her present condition. It’s not like she is well enough to go outside the home and work. The tours stay as they are. If you are as good as you claim to be, you can work around this.”

“I might have been able to if I had been informed that everyone practically in this county had access to the security codes,” growled Jake, his voice growing louder with each word. He was upset and wanted to take his anger out on someone.

Not wishing for a full-blown argument, I spoke up. “I need to go meet with Charles. Can I go now? I don’t think you need me for anything else, do you, Jake? Matt?” I tried to look very innocent and vulnerable.

Although still shook up, I talked Jake into letting me go alone. The cops were still at the barn. He and Matt needed to rejoin the search party going about the farm. Jake reluctantly agreed.

Charles was already waiting for me when I arrived. We chatted for twenty minutes until I was satisfied with the new information he gave me. We hatched a plan that was doable. If I were right, it still would be dangerous, even with all the safeguards implemented.

“See you around eight tonight,” I said to Charles. We shook hands and parted.

On the way to the Butterfly, I checked my beeyards. On the hive cover where I left the honey, was a stick with a blue piece of cloth hanging from it. Underneath was a note written on the back of the one I had written to Moshe Goren. “Mrs. Reynolds, I did not harm your bees or your farm animals. It is not the Jewish way to mistreat dumb creatures. Mr. Moshe Goren.”

I put the note in my pocket and left with an uneasy feeling in my gut. It was going to be a very long night.

17

I was wearing an off-the-shoulder blue Dior which I hadn’t been able to get into for close to nine years. My hair was upswept, sparkling with rhinestone pins I had purchased at the mall along with the blue satin bathroom slippers on my swollen feet. I joined Matt, who was playing solitaire in the great room. Franklin was sullenly making popcorn in the kitchen. They were going to baby-sit a still woozy Baby and the kittens. Matt looked nervous.

Placing my hand on his, I gave him my best smile. “It will be okay,” I whispered. I knew we both were thinking of the last time I went to Lady Elsmere’s home for dinner.

Franklin plopped the bowl down on the table, spilling the popcorn everywhere, including my lap.

“Franklin, you’d better not have gotten butter on this chiffon.”

“I’m so miserable that I am not going. I miss out on everything.”

“Be glad you missed out on this afternoon,” admonished Matt. “It was pretty horrible.”

Franklin stared out the window. Ever so often, he would let out a long sigh.

“Franklin, if you promise to quit sighing, I’ll give a dinner party and ask Lady Elsmere over here. That way she can meet you and she will return the invitation . . . if she likes you. Will that make you happy?”

“A proper dinner party?”

“Well, a little more casual than hers, but yes, a proper dinner party.”

“What this about a dinner party?” asked Jake, coming out of his room in a tuxedo.

My heart did a little flutter. Jake looked very handsome. I must be crazy for men in formal dinner attire.

“Thanks, Matt, for the loan of the penguin suit,” said Jake.

“Looks good on you,” affirmed Matt. “And you look very pretty tonight, Josiah. Very pretty, indeed.”

Jake’s ruddy skin gleamed above the white collar while his thick black hair sparkled blue-black under the lighting. “Can you tell I’m wearing a gun?”

“NO!” Matt and I chorused.

“I can tell he’s packin’,” quipped Franklin.

Jake smoothed the jacket, took a deep breath and said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

After hearing a knock at the door, Franklin ran to see if Lady Elsmere had sent the Bentley. She had. Jake held out his hand to me, pulling me out of my chair. Franklin handed me my sleek ebony walking stick with the silver head of a wolf, which he had purchased in Key West. Jake and I walked out of the Butterfly in style. I hoped no one could tell my stomach was doing somersaults. I was nervous.

We arrived without mishap. Lady Elsmere was waiting for us on the portico. Her frail body dripped heavily with diamonds. I don’t know how her bony skeleton supported the weight. And, of course, one of her three tiaras was perched on her silver coiffed head like a neon motel beacon. Charles was standing behind her as always. He winked at us.

“Daaarling, I was aghast when I heard about what happened at your place today. I didn’t know if you would come tonight or not. And that would have simply screwed with my table arrangement.”

I kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Thanks for being so supportive, June.” I turned to Jake. “May I introduce Jacob Dosh to you, my nephew from Oklahoma. We call him Jake. Jake, this is Lady Elsmere.”

“How do you do,” he said, giving a little bow.

She peered closer at him. “I thought you were going to bring the divine Matthew Garth with you.”

“He was detained, but Jake can eat with a fork and a knife if dinner calls for it.”

“Do you flirt, young man?”

“No ma’am.”

“Well, that is discouraging,” she stated as she swept inside the house. Charles shook his head, muttering the word “contrary.”

We followed suit and found ourselves in the library, just like last year. I heard June say before I stepped in, “Here she is.” I entered to see the same guests as the year before . . . standing in attention. They clapped upon seeing me.

I turned to June. “Let me guess. I’m the guest of honor.”

June reached over and hugged me. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. I thought if I could re-create that night again and nothing bad happened when you went home, it would help. Then that awful event at the barn this morning. I guess my dinners are jinxed for you.” She looked downcast.

Out of the corner of my mouth, I said, “I’ve been telling you that for years.” I stepped forward. “Thank you all for coming. Thank you, Lady Elsmere, for honoring me. It has been a long . . . nine months now, yes, I think that is correct, but I am delighted to be here tonight. If I don’t immediately respond to the conversation, please excuse me. The conk on the head I received sometimes make my response time slower.”

There was a nervous ripple of laughter. I placed my hand on Jake’s arm. “Stand your ground and show no fear,” I whispered.

Reverend Humble and his wife, Ruth, stepped up to greet me. They pumped my hand feverishly as I thanked them for coming. They looked suspiciously at Jake as though trying to place him on the people yardstick when I introduced him.

“Hello Larry,” I said to retired Special Agent Larry Bingham. “Long time no see. Hello Brenda.”

“I can’t believe how well you look, Josiah,” breathed Brenda, holding my hands. Hers were cold. She cocked her head at Jake. “Is this the young man who was with you last year?”

“No, that was Matthew Garth. This is Jake Dosh, my nephew recently out of Oklahoma.”

“Oh,” she said with a disappointed lilt to her voice, but then she caught herself and gave Jake a big smile. “Happy to meet you, Mr. Dosh.”

“I thought you’d still be drinking dinner out of a straw,” said Larry, pushing his wife a little to the side. She gave him an apologetic glance before moving towards June.

“Sorry to disappoint you. Larry, this is my nephew, Jake.”

Larry gave Jake a quick once over. “Well, if you say so.” He leaned in towards Jake, “Big piece you’re carrying. Must be a semi-automatic.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. He gave Larry the once-over.

Meriah Caldwell, the famous mystery writer, stepped forward. “Nice to see you again.”

“How’s your new book coming along?” I tapped my temple. “See, I remembered.”

“Almost finished. We can discuss it over dinner.”

“Look forward to it,” I said smiling, but was inwardly groaning. I made a mental bargain that I’d refrain from boring the party with tales of my ill health if Meriah refrained from boring us with details of her novel. And we’d all just have to hope no one had any grandchildren.

“Dinner is served, Madam,” announced Charles, coming to my rescue.

That was good news, as my legs were giving out. Jake escorted me into the dining room, where June had laid out her best china and antique English silverware. In the center of the table was placed a stunning floral arrangement. I was pleased to see the flowers were Irene’s starburst lilies.

“Most of everything tonight was purchased at the Farmers’ Market,” announced Lady Elsmere proudly. “I knew you would enjoy that.” She gave my hand a tender squeeze. “I can’t believe how good you look.” She looked quizzically at my head. “What’s that thing on your ear?”

I took off my hearing aid to show everyone. “It’s one of those high-tech ones. They’re supposed to be barely detectable, but it seems everyone detects them right off. Go figure.”

Meriah Caldwell inspected it for a time before handing it back. “Incredibly sleek.”

“Yes, considering they have a GPS built into them,” stated Larry. “These little doodads have military applications.”

Meriah lit up. “That’s very interesting.” She started to say something and then thought better of it.

“Yes, isn’t it,” I replied sullenly, watching with displeasure as the servers placed bowls of vichyssoise before us. This was the first time I had heard of a GPS device in my hearing aid. Now I knew why everyone noticed it.

Two of the servers were Charles’s grandsons while the third was a newcomer to Lady Elsmere’s staff, whom Charles had told me about this afternoon. Jake watched the newcomer from under his lids.

“Mr. Dosh, from your accent . . . you’re not from around here,” stated Lady Elsmere.

“No ma’am. I’m from Oklahoma like Mrs. Reynolds told you.”

“That’s a Southerner’s polite way of asking who your people are,” said Brenda.

Lady Elsmere continued undeterred, “You say that you are Josiah’s nephew.” She smiled a Cheshire Cat leer. “But our little Jo doesn’t have any siblings. She’s an only child.”

“Well, she does in fact . . . but from the wrong side of the blanket.” Jake gave Lady Elsmere a wicked grin.

She had the good grace to turn red.

“Oh, do go on,” popped up Brenda. “Sounds juicy.”

“If I might have more champagne, I just might tell you the story of my ill-fated parents,” teased Jake.

I cut in. “Lady Elsmere, did I tell you that my daughter is working on a case where a Botticelli was stolen from a private home in Amsterdam?”

Oh, what whoppers Jake and I were telling tonight. I had no idea what art case she was working on, if any. I just hoped my nose wasn’t growing longer. I stole a glance at Jake’s.

“Speaking of the prodigal daughter, when is she coming home? I haven’t seen her since last October when she whisked you off to Key West. Why Key West? I mean, who goes to Key West anymore. Since Tennessee Williams died and the island built those horrible condos, who cares.”

“Because the island is small enough, it can be contained and has a good police force,” muttered Larry.

“Contained for what?” asked Meriah.

“Security, I would think,” piped Brenda. Larry gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Brenda quickly asked for the rolls.

I picked up the trail of Lady Elsmere’s question. “I expect her home within the month,” I said.

“It was amazing how she pulled herself up after those congressional hearings several years back,” commented Meriah.

My voice was heated. “That was a dog and pony show.”

Jake intervened. “Josiah tells me that you like to base your dinners on famous ones in the past. Can you explain tonight’s conception?”

Lady Elsmere beamed. “Thank you, but we are just having Josiah’s favorites tonight. Prime rib, potatoes au gratin, asparagus, fresh yeast rolls, and crème brulee for dessert.”

“Why did we start off with vichyssoise?” I asked. “I don’t care for cold potato soup.”

Lady Elsmere snorted. “Because I like it and detest the rest of the swill I am obliged to eat tonight.”

Larry speared a big piece of juicy prime rib with his fork. “Some swill.”

“Basically peasant food,” twittered Lady Elsmere. “No real finesse in the cooking. Just don’t burn the meat.”

“Yes, but happy peasants,” I said, happily pouring au jus on my prime rib. I had to cut it into very tiny pieces in order to chew. I didn’t mind, but Charles, seeing that I was having trouble with the knife, brought me a new plate with the prime rib already cut along with the vegetables.

“Madame, your meat looks overcooked. Let me refresh your plate,” Charles said as he switched dishes. It spared me further embarrassment as the other guests were watching me struggle with the knife.

Ruth Humble said, “Well, dinner is delicious as always.”

“Yes, it is,” concurred Reverend Humble. “Tonight is a special treat. I must admit that those French sauces and pickled vegetables of the past meals have rather upset my stomach.” Ruth looked with alarm between her husband and Lady Elsmere, aka June Webster from Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky.

A dark cloud gathered over Lady Elsmere’s face, but she remained quiet. I knew though that Mr. and Mrs. Humble had just been written off the guest list permanently. So did Ruth. She gave her twit of a husband a curdling look.

We chatted about inane subjects until we retired to the library again for dessert and coffee. Jake nodded at me, giving me the signal. I excused myself to use the powder room, but headed to the kitchen where I encountered a skeleton crew of workers. The cook and her people had left, leaving the cleaning up to Charles’ staff, which comprised Charles’s grandsons and a new employee who had been on board for a month.

I went up to the new staff member who was carefully washing the antique china by hand. “Hello,” I said cheerfully. “My name is Mrs. Reynolds. I was wondering if I could get a glass of milk. My stomach is in an uproar.”

The young man looked at his fellow workers, who suddenly had become very busy with other tasks. “Sure thing,” he said, slowly strutting to the refrigerator. I studied him while he poured the milk. His features were pleasant enough but he was very thin as though he hadn’t eaten much protein as a child. His nails were filed and clean but looked yellowish. His blond hair was thin and laid limply across a low sloping shiny forehead. At the back of the neck, one could see the tip of a tattoo. His face was scarred from acne, but what really interested me were pinpoints of swelling on his neck, face and hands. Handing me the filled glass, he watched me drink it. I didn’t like the expression on his face. It was a smirk – like he had one over me.

“I’m dying for a smoke. Can I bum a cigarette off you?”

“How did you know that I smoked?” he asked reaching for a pack in his shirt pocket.

“I saw the nicotine stains on your fingers,” I said. “Dead giveaway.”

One of Charles’ grandsons spoke up. “Miss Josiah, you know you’re not supposed to smoke with your asthma. You give that cigarette right back or I’m going to call Mr. Garth.”

I made a face at him. “I can’t do anything anymore without someone telling on me.” Handing the new guy my the empty glass, I asked, “Mind if I have another? At least, I can have that.”

He shrugged, “You’re the guest,” and gave me another which I drank sitting on a stool.

“You must be new to Lady Elsmere’s staff. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

His face registered nothing, but he shifted his weight. “I’ve been on board for over a month.”

“I hope you like it here.”

“Yes, very much, thank you.” He reached for the empty glass.

“Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed, pointing to the swollen wounds on his hands. “Those look like bee stings. And you’ve got some on your neck too. My bees didn’t do that, did they?”

He jerked his hands away. “No ma’am. I was cleaning out an old shed and a nest of wasps got me. Had nothing to do with your bees.”