Let's Play Dead (6 page)

“I’ll show you,” Arabella said.

“I want to come with Jason,” Caitlin said abruptly.

“You a relative?”

“He’s my . . . fiancé,” Caitlin said defiantly. Arabella shot her a startled glance but said nothing.

“You can’t ride with us. You can follow if you want, but you may have to wait awhile.”

“Okay. Will he be all right?”

“Can’t say.”

Can’t, or won’t? I wondered. Jason wasn’t dead, but he didn’t look very alive, either. I wished I knew more about massive electrical shock. My closest experience was when I had stuck a fork into a toaster some thirty years ago, an experience I made sure never to repeat. But while it had been unpleasant, I hadn’t blacked out. How much stronger was the current that coursed through Willy the Weasel?

I realized I was still standing in the same place, as though rooted to the spot, when Arabella returned from directing the EMTs. “Nell, I’m going to take Caitlin and follow the ambulance over to the hospital. I’m so sorry you had to be here to see this.”

I shook myself. “Arabella, don’t apologize. You do what you have to—I’ll follow you out. And please let me know how Jason is, as soon as you know anything.”

“I’ll do that.”

There seemed to be nothing else to say, so we filed out the front door in silent procession. Arabella took her daughter’s limp arm, and after speaking briefly to Joe, who was still standing sentinel at the front door, led her around toward the back of the building, where I assumed she was parked. Joe and I watched as the ambulance pulled away.

“Hey, you okay? You look kind of shook up,” Joe said.

I turned to look at him, truly seeing him for the first time. Maybe thirty-five, at bit younger than me. Tall. Curly dark hair, and blue eyes with lashes that no man deserved. Muscled like he worked out, but not too much. At another time and place I might have admired such a fine specimen of manhood, but he was right—I was shaken up.

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

He was actually trying hard to be helpful, and I had to admit I didn’t feel ready to face a crowded train. “No, but maybe we could sit down and have a cup of coffee or something?”

“Sure. There’s a shop on the next street, and I know they’re open late. Come on.”

I followed meekly as he led me to what would once have been called a greasy spoon, but at least it was warm, and it smelled of good food. Joe held the door for me and waited courteously until I slid into a booth. The proprietor came over and handed us menus, nodding at Joe. I was surprised that despite what I had just seen, I was hungry. Maybe it was reaction, or maybe I just wanted a distraction. I realized that Joe was watching me with those disconcerting blue eyes.

“I guess we never got properly introduced. I’m Nell Pratt—I run the Pennsylvania Antiquarian Society. Arabella invited me by for a sneak preview of the exhibit.”

“Hi, Nell. I’m Joe Murphy. So, not quite the show you were expecting, I’d wager.”

“Not at all. You said you’re an electrician?” When he nodded, I asked, “Do you have any idea how that could have happened?”

The proprietor arrived, pad in hand, and we ordered coffee and sandwiches. Joe waited until he had left before he replied. “I know that part of the building like the back of my hand, and of course we’ve been extra careful because of the kids and all. No way it should have happened like that, unless somebody’s been messing with the wiring.”

The coffee arrived, and I wrapped my hands around the thick white mug, mostly to stop their shaking. “Why would anyone do that? Everybody loves Let’s Play, as far as I know.”

“That they do,” Joe said. “I really couldn’t say who’d want to do the place harm. Lucky thing the circuit was a new one—the breaker cut off fast. Maybe Jason hit his head when he fell?”

“Could be. I was looking at Willy when it happened, not Jason.” I realized I preferred that explanation over a booby-trapped weasel. I took a deep breath and changed the subject. “So, are you from Philadelphia, Joe?”

“Born and raised,” he replied, and I steered the conversation toward safer topics. The food arrived and was surprisingly good, and after devouring the sandwich, I felt much better. When it was gone, I checked my watch: ten minutes until the next train, and they didn’t run too often after rush hour.

“I need to get going. Thanks for suggesting this, Joe—I guess I was a little rocky after all. Let me get the tab.”

“Glad to help,” Joe said, standing up.

I noticed he didn’t counter my offer to pay, so I left some bills on the table. “I’ve got to go catch my train. Nice to meet you, Joe.”

I left him at the booth and went back out into the dark and chilly night. The train stop was only a few blocks away, and I had to hurry a bit, but I managed to arrive just as the train was pulling up at the platform. I slumped into a seat, hoping that there would be good news in the morning.

Jason Miller was still on my mind as I walked from the
station to the Society the next morning. What could have happened? Was he all right? I hadn’t heard a word from Arabella Heffernan, but we weren’t exactly close, and I doubted that she had my home number. Nor did I have hers, and even if I had, I was reluctant to call only to hear bad news. I’d had trouble erasing the image of Jason’s still form on the floor, so out of place among the bright and gaudy cartoon animals. And even if all was well, her daughter, Caitlin, had looked very distressed, and Arabella might have had her hands full comforting her.

I was knee-deep in paperwork at my desk an hour or so later when Front Desk Bob called. “There’s a Ms. Heffernan here to see you. Can I send her up?”

Arabella had come all the way here, in person? That was kind. I sighed, wishing I had that elusive assistant to send downstairs and escort Arabella up to my office, according to protocol. “Please see her to the elevator, Bob, and I’ll meet her on this end.”

“Will do,” Bob said, and hung up.

I swept the papers into a sort of neat pile, checked to make sure that my guest chair was clear, and walked down the hall to the elevator. I arrived before it had creaked its way up the two stories. When the doors opened, there was Arabella, looking far more cheerful than she had the evening before, and all but hidden behind a large basket filled with flowers and cookies. My mouth started watering immediately, even though I’d eaten breakfast.

“Nell, I wanted to bring you this as an apology for yesterday. What an awful thing! I’m so sorry you had to be there. What must you think of us!”

“Please don’t worry about me, Arabella. Is Jason all right?”

“Thank goodness, yes. That’s why I wanted to see you. I was sure you would be worried, though you were so calm yesterday!”

Arabella had done pretty well herself, taking charge and doing what had to be done. I’d been impressed: her warm and cuddly exterior hid a solid core. “Why don’t we go to my office?”

“Wonderful,” Arabella said.

I led the way, catching a few curious glances directed more at the large basket of goodies than at me. Once in my office, I set the basket on my credenza, then gestured toward the chair. “Please sit down. I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to bother you this morning.”

“Well, Jason’s going to be just fine. He woke up in the ambulance and he was talking. He wanted to go home last night, but the doctors thought he should stay overnight for observation, just in case.”

“That’s great news. Oh, where are my manners? Can I get you some coffee? It won’t be as good as your tea, though.” What I really wanted was an excuse to dig into the cookies. “Unless you have to get back to work right away?”

“Coffee would be lovely. And I’m not in a hurry. I thought I’d treat myself to a little time off, after all the stress of yesterday. And of course the electrical inspectors are back, and I’m sure they don’t want me hovering over them.”

“You didn’t think you should close the museum, at least until they had checked things out?”

“The exhibit has its own independent wiring—we added all that recently. That area’s off-limits to the public anyway, until we open the exhibit, but just in case I asked one of our staff to stay and make sure nobody strays.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Let me get you that coffee. I’ll be right back!” I ducked down the hall to the staff room, praying that there was something in the pot, and that it wasn’t sludge. For once I was lucky. I rinsed out two cups and filled them, then headed back down the hall.

By the time I returned, Arabella had already laid out some of the cookies (from a local bakery, not a package) for us on pretty matching napkins. This was one very organized lady. I set a mug of coffee in front of her, then went around the desk and sat with my own mug. “That looks lovely.”

“Thank you. Your office is quite impressive.”

“It is that. I still feel as though I don’t belong here, and someone’s going to come along and throw me out.”

“Oh, pshaw! You’ll be fine. As I’m sure you’ve discovered, this kind of position takes a strong sense of organization combined with an ability to size up people quickly and schmooze them. And I’ve seen you do those quite well. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

I laughed. “I think you’ve nailed the job description, and thank you for the kind words. How long have you been at Let’s Play?”

Arabella fluttered an airy hand. “Forever, it seems. I came up through the ranks, so to speak. I started out as a docent when my daughter, Caitlin, was young—I saw how much she and the other children loved it, and I wanted to be part of it. And things just sort of grew from there! I’ve been president for ten years now, and I still love it. And I seem to have passed my love of it on to Caitlin—she’s our exhibits coordinator. She’s been working with me at Let’s Play for a couple of years now, since she graduated from college, but the
Harriet the Hedgehog
exhibit is her first solo project.”

“I know how much time it takes to get things right, whether it’s fragile documents or plastic animals. She must have had to work long hours.” So Caitlin worked with her mother. I wondered how that had come about—had they avoided any whiff of nepotism?

“Oh yes, she’s spent quite a bit of time working on the exhibit. It’s a shame she lives in Camden now; I tried to get her to stay with me in the city—I’ve been in the same house since Caitlin was young, and when my husband . . . left”—a brief cloud passed across her face, and I wondered what the story was—“it was easiest to stay on, since she was settled in school and had friends there. And it was so convenient! Most of the time I walk to work.”

“I can see that. I live in the suburbs myself.”

“Well, that’s nice, too. So it’s just you?” Arabella nibbled at a cookie, much like a dormouse.

“It is. I own a house in Bryn Mawr, and I take the train in.”

“It’s so pretty out there!”

“I think so,” I said, sipping bad coffee and compensating for it with a good cookie. “Caitlin and Jason are engaged?”

“If Caitlin says so, I suppose they are. She hasn’t shared the details with me, but they’ve been living together for a while. I can’t run a children’s museum and broadcast that. But I like Jason—he’s a sweet boy. Actually he’s a graduate student at Penn, but he’s been moonlighting with us because we’re behind schedule with the painting, and he can use the money. I’m sure you know how that goes—nothing is ever done on time, or you find something unexpected that has to be fixed before you can move forward.”

I had to laugh. “I know exactly what you mean, especially when you’re working with an older building.”

Arabella nodded. “Anyway, he’s Caitlin’s first real boyfriend, but they’re
so
good together! That’s why she was still around yesterday—she was waiting so they could go home together.”

“Poor Jason—he was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m glad he’ll be all right. Caitlin seemed so upset.”

“Oh, she was. I practically had to drag her home with me last night, once we knew Jason would be fine. I volunteered to pay all his medical expenses. He’s got only minimal coverage through his graduate program.”

“Do you know what happened? Was it a wiring problem?”

“I still don’t know. I’m having the original contractor come in and check it out this morning. We’ve been very careful, you know. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong—everything looked correct to him. I’ve also asked someone else to check it out, too, just to be sure.”

“Yes, you said you’d had all the inspections.” Which made it odd that something so obvious would short out—assuming that was what had happened. But I was far from an expert on things electrical, and I knew how often older buildings were plagued by jerry-rigged systems, especially if they’d been around for a hundred or so years. That was a problem we battled with at the Society every time we tried to install something. “Well, I hope whatever it was, it’s simple to fix, and I’m very glad that Jason’s going to be all right. Have you ever visited the Society? I’d love to show you what we’ve got. We may even have a collection of children’s books printed in Philadelphia—if I can find it.”

Arabella clapped her hands. “Ooh, I’d love to see. It’s so much fun to take a peek at what goes on behind the scenes.”

I stood up. “Then I’ll be happy to show you.”

I loved showing off our collections, although to an outsider they didn’t look like much: rows of old metal shelving holding books and documents, mainly. But once you opened a book or a file, there were all sorts of treasures. I could tell that Arabella was sincere in her appreciation, particularly when I showed her the business records for a long-gone Philadelphia manufacturer of carousel animals.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to do something with this?” she said wistfully. “Not with the original pieces, of course, but something derived from those wonderful old animals. Something that the children could actually sit on?”

“I’d love to work with you—maybe we could do a joint exhibit? We could showcase the antique images and the carousel company here, and you could do something updated at your place?” I did in fact like the idea, since it wouldn’t take much on our part—we had all the materials on hand.