Murder by Arrangement (Edna Davies mysteries Book 5) (2 page)

Edna persisted.
“Why would she want to kill her husband?”

“The talk was
that he’d had more than one affair. As a matter of fact, one of his latest was
a woman who worked with Rosie and, supposedly, was her best friend.” Irene made
a weak attempt to lighten the mood. “Husbands have been killed for less, if you
watch the soap operas.”

Edna appreciated
the humor, but shook her head in dismay. “Sounds like Gregory Haverstrum wasn’t
a nice man, but surely infidelity isn’t a sufficient enough reason for murder.”

“Perhaps not,”
agreed Irene. “If it were, I think the girlfriend might have been killed, too.”
She scowled. “I don’t understand how someone can work alongside her best
friend, day in and day out, while carrying on with that friend’s husband. I can
easily imagine Rosie being angry enough to murder that backstabber.”

Listening to her
daughter-in-law’s rant with only half an ear, Edna’s mind jumped back to her
early days in the community, and she felt again the despair of her own
situation when she’d been confronted with the murder of her handyman. Then, she
thought of her granddaughter for a moment. Would she be subjecting Amanda to
possible harm if she were to side with Rosie, or should she agree with Irene
who, Edna now suspected, had come looking for support, not argument?

I should meet
Rosie before I decide how to answer Irene
, Edna thought, as an idea began
to form in her mind. “You said you would let Rosie know your answer by this
evening?”

“That’s right.
Tomorrow’s Friday, so the girls will be in school until mid-afternoon. Rosie
wants to bring them down here as soon after that as possible. She works for an
event planner now. This is one of their busiest times of the year with all the
Valentine’s Day weddings. She’ll be working long hours next week, which is why
Lettie will stay with her Grandmother Lily for the school break. I think Rosie
feels that Lettie will be happier if she has a friend with her, even if it’s
only for part of the time.”

Edna stood to
clear the soup bowls from the table and get their dessert. After a couple of
minutes of silence while she worked through the plan in her head, she said.
“How would it be if Amanda spent a few days with me?”

Irene looked a
bit startled at the suggestion, then thoughtful. “I suppose …” she began.

Edna rushed on,
explaining her idea. “I’d like to meet Rosie, get a feel for the sort of person
she is. Why don’t you invite her to lunch at your house tomorrow? Tell her I’ve
asked Amanda to stay with me for a few nights, so I’ll be there for lunch, as
well.” Edna paused, thinking, then added, “It will be a good chance for her to
meet me, too. The girls will be able to see each other, and the question of an
overnight needn’t arise. Besides, it would be a treat for me to visit with my
granddaughter. It’s rare that I see her without the rest of the family around.”

Irene narrowed
her eyes, but couldn’t help grinning. She’d been married to Matthew long enough
to have gotten to know her mother-in-law fairly well. “What are you up to,
Edna? I detect a glimmer in your eye.”

Edna felt a sudden
surge of anticipation in talking to a woman who had been in a similar situation
as she. Evasively, she said, “After lunch, I could save Rosie a trip by driving
both girls down and dropping Lettie off at her grandmother’s. Kill two birds
with one stone, so to speak.”

Chapter 2

“Watcha doin’?”
Mary’s voice came from the mudroom as she appeared in the doorway to the
kitchen.

Irene had gone
home shortly after lunch, leaving Edna to wash up. Now lost in thought, she
nearly dropped the saucepan she’d been drying while gazing out the kitchen
window at clouds the color of a gray cat’s fur.
Mary’s forever startling me
since she’s become used to walking in unannounced. Maybe I’ll install a
doorbell in the back door, so she can signal her arrival
, Edna mused wryly,
taking a deep breath. Nerves steadied, she turned to welcome her friend, but
what she saw startled her.

She had always
thought Mary might be considered plain but for her brilliant green eyes. Today,
those eyes had dark circles beneath them. Her curly, carroty-red hair looked as
if it had been brushed hurriedly before being gathered at the nape of her neck
with a white Scrunchie.

Edna held out a
hand, palm up, toward one of the kitchen chairs. “Sit and have some tea. It’ll
take me only a minute to make a fresh pot.”

“Okay.”

Edna had
inherited Mary Osbourne as her nearest neighbor when she and Albert moved into
their dream retirement home next door to the lanky redhead. After Albert
retired, selling his share of a medical practice in Providence, he and Edna had
spent a year driving from Rhode Island to South Carolina and back, looking for
an ideal place to pass their “golden years.” Eventually, they decided to move
no farther than South County in their own home state. The area had everything
they enjoyed, from beaches to farms and woodlands. The state university’s main
Kingston campus was close by for lectures, plays and concerts; and Providence
was only an hour’s drive when they wanted to enjoy the wealth of social and
cultural activities in the “big city.” Along with the Davieses’ cozy Cape Cod
cottage came several garden plots, hand-written and illustrated journals of the
myriad plantings by the former owner Hazel Rabichek, and a quirky and snoopy
but concerned neighbor.

Dressed this
afternoon in her winter camouflage outfit with its design of pine needles and
bare branches on a white background, Mary was a true free spirit. She’d been
raised mostly by a spinster cousin after Mary’s birth had both surprised and
baffled her parents just when they’d settled nicely into their childless
forties. A willful and curious child, Mary had set the previously sedate
household on its ear. Now, in her mid-fifties, she lived alone in the family’s
three-story mansion--alone, that is, except for a dog and four cats.

Sagging onto a
chair next to the one occupied by Benjamin, Mary stroked his golden coat while
she waited for Edna to pour the tea and set out a plate of cranberry muffins,
warm from the oven. Uncharacteristically, she was silent until Edna took the
seat on the opposite side of the table. When she still hadn’t said a word, Edna
prompted. “What’s wrong, Mary. You look tired.”

“Haven’t been
sleeping,” Mary said, picking up her mug and taking a cautious sip of the
steaming liquid.

“Why not? Are
you ill?”

The redhead
shook her head. “’S not that. It’s the ghost in my attic.”

Edna nearly
choked on the tea she’d just sipped. Seeing the forlorn look on Mary’s face,
she bit back a laugh and said as calmly as she could, “you have a ghost in your
attic?”

Mary nodded.

“What makes you
say that?”

“Noises at
night. Keeps me awake.”

Edna thought for
a moment while she broke off a piece of muffin. After chewing and swallowing,
she decided to play along, wondering if Mary were joking or hallucinating. She
definitely was acting odd this morning, even for her. “Is this a sudden
phenomenon?” Edna asked. “I know your house is old and probably has quite a
history, but I haven’t heard you mention the possibility of it being haunted
before.”

“Just started up
a week ago. Never heard ‘im before.” Mary was studying Edna’s face as if
judging her reaction. “Now, I hear ‘im every night.”

“Hmmm,” Edna
murmured. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Mary shrugged as
she reached for a muffin. “I dunno. Never thought about it one way or the
other, but I’ve never heard noises like these before. Can’t think what else
could cause such a racket.”

“Have you gone
upstairs to check?”

Mary shook her
head vehemently, her mouth full again. Swallowing quickly, she blurted. “No
way. I’m not goin’ up there alone.”

“Could it be the
pipes? Time-worn houses develop strange noises, particularly with steam heat
clanging away in those ancient radiators.”

Mary shook her
head again. “Nope. I know all the sounds that house makes. This is new.
Upstairs. Comin’ from my old nursery.”

“What about
squirrels or raccoons? They’re notorious for getting into people’s attics.”

“I’ve been up
there in the daylight. There’re no signs of the sort left by squirrels or mice
or any other wild animal, but things have been knocked over. So you see,
something
’s
gotta have done that. Things don’t just fall over by themselves.”

Edna didn’t know
how to respond to that bit of information. “What does Hank do?” She asked
instead about the black Labrador Mary had inherited after his owner died. “Most
dogs would bark or whine or whimper, I imagine.”

“Nothing.
Sometimes, if he wakes up, he stands up, turns around and plops back down to
sleep again.”

“I’m surprised
you haven’t gone up to explore.”

“Not me. No way.
I’m no ghost buster. Not by myself. Not in the dark.”

“How are you
going to find out what’s causing the ruckus, if you don’t go look?”

“I thought you’d
come stay with me and we could investigate together.” Mary narrowed her eyes
and stared at Edna for a few seconds, as if deciding whether or not to say something
else. Edna had raised her cup halfway to her mouth when Mary announced, almost
proudly, “Actually, I think I know who it is.”

Edna, glad she
didn’t have hot tea in her mouth this time, carefully lowered the cup back onto
its saucer. “Oh?”

“Yup,” Mary
dipped her chin in a firm nod. “He’s a rebel.”

Edna kept a
straight face, so as not to hurt her neighbor’s feelings. She could see that
Mary was perfectly serious. “A rebel,” Edna repeated.

“Has to be,”
Mary said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it and remembered something my
father told me when I was little.”

Knowing her
neighbor liked to be prompted, Edna said, “And what was that?”

“He told me that
the main part of our house was built in the early seventeen hundreds, before
the Revolutionary War.” Maddeningly, she stopped talking to take a bite of
muffin and a sip of tea.

“And …” Edna
encouraged.

“Did you know
Rhode Island was the first of the British colonies to declare independence in
seventeen seventy-six?”

“No,” Edna
admitted, “but what does that have to do with a rebel haunting your old
nursery.” She thought her comment might make Mary smile at the very least, but
her neighbor went on with a serious expression.

“I’ve been
rereading my history books about what went on in this area at that time and remembered
the Gaspee Affair.”

It was Edna’s
turn to nod. “When Rhode Island traders attacked a British customs ship. But
that took place off Gaspee Point in Warwick, didn’t it?”

“That’s right.
It was a few years before the Revolution, but people around here didn’t like
the British ships patrolling Narragansett Bay to stop ‘em from trading. When
war really started, the English raided farms on this side and then retreated
over to Newport because the colonists over there were Loyalists. Not us on this
side of the Bay. Our guys fought back. Plenty of skirmishes started by the
local farmers and fishermen.”

“Okay,” Edna
said, “but what does that have to do with noises in your attic?”

“I’m coming to
that,” Mary said. “The original owner of my house was a physician, so I figure
maybe, if one of the rebels was wounded, he might have sought medical help. The
doctor could have hidden him upstairs. The top floor was servants quarters,
originally. It wasn’t a nursery until my father had the inside walls knocked
down to make two big rooms. One’s the nursery and the other’s storage space.”

“So you think
the rebel might have died from his wounds and now his ghost is roaming around?”

Mary nodded,
studying Edna’s face as to assure herself that Edna was taking her seriously.

“Why do you
think he decided to appear now? Why not years ago?”

“Dunno,” Mary
said, sounding dejected and then defensive. “Can’t explain it. All I know is
there’s somethin’ going on over my head at night.”

Edna didn’t want
to antagonize Mary, so she posed another question. “Do you think a window
shutter or a roof shingle could be loose? The wind has been pretty strong the
last few nights.”

Mary shook her
head. “That’s not the sort of noise I’m hearing.” She pushed her mug aside and
slumped back in her chair. “It’s coming from inside. He’s in the nursery.”

“What else could
it be then?” Edna said, truly curious and purposely avoiding Mary’s last
pronouncement. “You said Hank’s asleep. What about the cats? Do the noises
disturb them too?”

“Spot doesn’t
wake up.” Mary said, mentioning her year-old black cat who had come to her as a
stray. She sat forward and seemed to be thinking aloud. “I get ready for bed
and shut Auntie Bea, Charcoal and Snowball in Father’s old room before I watch
the late-night news. There’s a bathroom off the bedroom for their litter box,
and I put water in the sink for them to drink. Father’s room is the best place.
I don’t have to worry about them getting into stuff or getting hurt while I’m
asleep.”

Edna thought of
the three felines Mary had adopted after the woman who owned them had been
killed shortly before Christmas. Two of them, one pure white and the other all
black, were about eight months old. Auntie Bea was an older Maine Coon who
seemed to chaperone the youngsters. “Why don’t you keep them in your room?”

Mary frowned as
if the question were absurd. “I’m finally used to Spot and Hank sleeping with
me,” she said. “The two kittens are full of energy and pretty playful, so
they’re probably up half the night. I’d never get any sleep if they were all in
my room.”

Edna didn’t
bother to point out that Mary wasn’t getting any sleep with a ghost wandering
around, either. Instead, she said, “Speaking of Hank and Spot, where are they?”
She’d been so distracted by Mary’s revelation that she hadn’t noticed her
neighbor’s nearly constant companions were missing. They almost always
accompanied her when she came to visit. Both dog and cat enjoyed saying hello
to Benjamin.

“Left them home.
Gotta go to work soon. I just came by to ask you a favor.”

“I thought you
were switching to a lunchtime shift at the hospital,” Edna said, glancing up at
the kitchen clock on the wall.

Mary shook her
head. “Nope. Thought about it, but the nurses told me they have trouble getting
volunteers for the dinner hour.” She shrugged. “I work only three days a week,
and I’m used to starting at four o’clock. Hank and Spot are used to that
schedule, too. When I get home, we go for a walk. Then, they settle down for
the night.”

Wondering about
Mary’s other pets, Edna said, “When will you let the new cats out of the house?
Don’t you think they’ve gotten used to their surroundings by now? I wouldn’t
think they’d get lost or run away, after living with you for the past six or
seven weeks.”

Mary slumped
back in her chair again. “I’m not gonna let ‘em out, not with Snowball being
deaf. I’d be afraid she’d get run over or grabbed by a fox or something.” She
reached over to stroke Benjamin. “As far as I know, they’ve always been house
cats, so they’ll be fine.”

An image of
Snowball, the pure white kitten, came into Edna’s mind. She had learned it was
the gene for the cat’s pretty blue eyes that also caused her deafness.
Charcoal, her black companion, was good about sticking close to her. The two
were rarely out of each other’s sight. Auntie Bea, the older Maine Coon, also
seemed to be conscious of the kitten’s handicap and didn’t stray far from the
frolicking pair.

Thinking of
Mary’s most recent adoptees, Edna said, “Could it be the cats who are making
noise at night?”

Mary shook her
head. “They’re at the other end of the house. The sounds’re above me, in the
nursery. Sorta like someone stomping or running.”

Edna decided to
distract her neighbor from further discussion of the ghost. “You came over to
ask me a favor?”

At that moment,
Mary turned to look up at the wall clock. “Oops. Speaking of which … I gotta
get to the hospital. I’ll be home a little after eight tonight. Since Al’s out
of town, can you come stay over?”

“Albert,” Edna
corrected automatically before shaking her head. Briefly explaining she’d be
having lunch with Irene the next day and bringing two girls back afterwards,
she concluded by saying, “And before I head for my daughter-in-law’s in
Warwick, I have my weekly hair appointment. I don’t want to be up all night
before a very busy day tomorrow.”

Instead of
looking disappointed, as Edna had expected, Mary perked up. “That’s great. Your
grandkids are really good with Hank and the cats. Amanda and her friend can
come over with you tomorrow night. We can hunt for the ghost together. They’ll
love it.”

“Hold on,” Edna
said, thinking Mary’s scheme would turn out to be a wild-goose chase and lead
only to two tired and possibly cranky girls on Saturday. “I’m not promising
anything. We’ll wait and see. At the very least, I’ll have to get permission
from the friend’s grandmother.”