Murder by Arrangement Read online

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 d
o 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.”

  As usual, Mary wasn’t the least deterred, not with the possibility of children helping out. Ignoring Edna’s words, she smiled and stood abruptly, “I really gotta go. I’ll call ya later.” With those words, she headed toward the mudroom and the back door.

  It was only when Mary had gone that Edna thought she should have asked her about the Haverstrum scandal. Of course, she’d be the one to ask. Mary always knew more than anyone else about the comings and goings around town. Edna mentally kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner, but she had been a little distracted by Mary’s ghost story.

  Chapter 3

  Early the following morning, Edna left for her hair appointment shortly after Bev and Junie showed up. Not only were Fridays the day Housekeeper Helpers cleaned her house, but it was also her “coiffure and cuisine” morning with her friends Helen Tucker and Harriet Peppafitch, known to most who knew them as Tuck and Peppa.

  First, the three women met at The Locks Shoppe in town. Typically, this meant a trim for Edna and Peppa, both of whom kept their gray curls short. Since the root touchup on Tuck’s blonde hair took a while before the thick tresses were swept back into a French twist, Edna and Peppa waited for her in a nearby café. Over brunch, a week’s worth of gossip and personal news kept them at their usual table until the lunch crowd began to arrive, at which time the “coiff ‘n cuis” members went their separate ways.

  Edna had known Tuck since college days when she’d married one of Albert’s fraternity brothers from the nearby state university. The Tuckers had remained in the Kingston area while the Davieses moved to Providence, but the two couples had kept in close contact over the years.

  “Look no more,” Tuck’s husband, a realtor, said when Edna and Albert had begun to doubt their ideal house existed at all. “I’ve got the perfect place for you, and it’s only a stone’s throw from Tuck and me.”

  Sadly, he died of a heart attack two weeks before the closing. Needing a distraction from her bereavement, Tuck had taken it upon herself to introduce Edna to the community by way of the garden club and social events at the nearby university. At the same time, Harriet Peppafitch had been fervently working to distract Tuck from her grief by getting her
involved in library funding and scholarship committees, two activities of interest to Edna. Inevitably, Edna and Peppa met and became friends, nearly as close to each other as they were to Tuck.

  Peppa, one of the mainstays of the local town, had recently retired after heading the library for nearly forty years. She was known by everyone who grew up in the region as the Saturday morning story lady. Her hour-long readings had been divided between preschoolers for the first thirty minutes and older children for the last half hour. She’d finally stepped down when budget cuts threatened the job of her second-in-command, a forty-five year old woman who wasn’t as prepared to retire as Peppa. Now, for a few hours a week, the former librarian kept her hand in and her eye on the place as a volunteer.

  Edna looked forward to her Friday socializing, so it was with regret that she had to leave that morning in the middle of Tuck’s report on the latest antics of her three-year-old great-granddaughter.

  Merging onto Route 1 and heading north to Warwick, Edna’s thoughts turned to her own family and stopped to dwell on her youngest child. Starling would be thirty-one in April. She’d been dating a local police detective for over a year, but only since Christmas, after returning from a week’s skiing trip to Colorado, had she seemed more attentive to Charlie Rogers. Idly, Edna speculated whether or not they might announce their engagement on Valentine’s Day.

  Edna first met the detective when Tuck had been the victim of a gang of antique thieves. Within a day of that crime, Charlie was interrogating Edna as the prime suspect in the murder of her handyman. Stumbling over one another during both those investigations, Edna and the policeman had developed a mutual respect that had grown stronger through another couple of mishaps in the last year. Despite their rocky beginnings, she was very fond of Charlie and thought he’d make a fine addition to the family.

  Maybe Valentine’s Day when her father is back from Florida next week, Edna thought and, since it was out of her control, pushed the idea to the back of her mind as she drew closer to Irene and Matthew’s house. Turning onto their street, she began to wonder what sort of woman her son’s newest neighbor would be. Was she an innocent victim or a shrewd killer?