03 Murder by Mishap Read online

  Over lunch, Edna and Peg chatted amiably about family and friends and times past. At least Edna felt cheerful, but noticed that Peg, although polite and smiling, had something else on her mind. The two women had met in college, been married within a year of each other and had their first-borns only a week apart. While Edna gave birth to three more children, Peg had raised only the one son. Her Geoffrey and Edna’s eldest son Matthew, companions from the crib, were still like brothers. Fortunately, their wives and children all got along well, and the Luccianellos were always invited to the Davies home when the families gathered. Since Peg had married Stephen, she had attended the combined family functions less often and so needed to catch up on family news.

  Edna took a last spoonful of Virginia’s delicious soup and carefully placed her spoon on the plate beside the bowl. Removing the cozy from the teapot, she refilled first Peg’s and then her own teacup with the hot, aromatic orange-pekoe blend. Her curiosity had been aroused and she thought she knew what was occupying her friend’s mind. “Okay, Peg, I’ve done most of the talking so now it’s your turn. Tell me about this brooch of your mother’s.”

  When she saw Peg was about to protest, she cut her off quickly. “We know each other too well for you to try and weasel out. I can tell something is bothering you, so you might as well spill it. We’ve never had secrets from one another, and you’ll feel better sharing whatever it is.”

  Peg sighed and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin before spreading the linen back in her lap. “You’re right, Ed, as usual. I’ve been going over and over in my mind what could have happened all those years ago. The more I think of it, the worse it becomes. Mother and Father were so unfair to Cherisse.”

  “Now you really must tell me before I die of curiosity.” Edna tried to lighten the gray mood that seemed to have fallen on her friend. “For one thing, who is Cherisse, and for another, how do you know the exact date your mother lost her brooch? It happened so long ago.”

  “I remember it was the fifteenth of April because Father was busy with his accountant, getting his taxes finished at the eleventh hour, as usual. Mother wanted him to join us at the Biltmore for lunch and was not happy when he told her he absolutely could not. Father didn’t often say no to Mother, so when he did, she’d get into an awful snit.”

  At the memory, Peg gave a faint smile and shrugged as if to excuse her mother’s petulance. “I remember she stormed around the house and then went out to stomp around the gardens. By the time her tantrum was over, she had a large basketful of roses that she brought into the house to arrange and I’m certain Father had been forgiven.”

  “That’s a nice story, Peg, but what does that have to do with the brooch?”

  “I’m getting to that.” Peg further strained Edna’s patience by taking a slow sip of tea before continuing. “When Father came home, he must have thought he had to appease Mother because he told her to get dressed for an evening of dinner and dancing. Of course, she was thrilled and didn’t mention that her temper had cooled.” Peg smiled with a faraway look in her eyes, apparently amused at her mother’s manipulative ways. “She went upstairs to change her clothes and was gone for an unusually long time, even for her. When she finally came down to the living room where Father and I were waiting, she was very upset. She said she wanted to wear her birthday brooch, but couldn’t find it. In the long run, she convinced herself it had been stolen.”

  “And this person Cherisse was accused,” Edna guessed.

  Nodding, Peg looked stricken. “She was Mother’s maid. At the time, the only other staff were Virginia and a cook, but neither of them attended to Mother. Cook didn’t ever go into the main part of the upstairs. She and Virginia each had her own bedroom and shared a bathroom over the kitchen. Cherisse didn’t live in.”

  “Was anything else missing?”

  “No, only the one pin. I helped Mother and Father look for it. We hunted everywhere. Eventually though, Mother confronted Cherisse. When she wouldn’t admit to the theft, Mother dismissed her without a reference. Cherisse wasn’t able to get a decent paying job after that.”

  “How do you know? Have you stayed in touch with her?”

  “I haven’t, but Virginia’s remained friends with the family. It was sad, really. Cherisse had two children, a boy and a girl. Guy is two years older than I, and Renee is a year older than Guy. The three of us played together when I was young. I was in my last year of high school and they were both in college at the time this happened. When their mother lost her job, they had to leave school to find work. I haven’t spoken to any of the Froissards since Cherisse was dismissed.”

  “What about her husband? What did he have to say about her dismissal?”

  “She was a widow. Her husband was killed in the Second World War. Cherisse brought her children to this country because she had a brother who lived in Providence. He was a bachelor who had died of a heart attack about a year before this all happened. Cherisse never remarried, so it was only the three of them. Of course her children defended Cherisse, said she wouldn’t have risked her job and her reputation over something so trivial. Renee and Guy were both very angry with my parents.”

  “You said Virginia is friends with them, so they must still live in the area.”

  Peg nodded. “They belong to the same church. Virginia even went to Florida a few years ago with Renee and Cherisse. It was a rare vacation for all of them.” Peg was playing with her spoon, rubbing it around on her plate. “I’ll ask her how I can contact them.” Lifting her eyes to Edna’s, Peg almost wailed, “This is terrible, Ed. What will I say to them?”

  “You had nothing to do with it. Surely they will understand that.” Deciding Peg needed to be distracted, if only until the newness of the discovery wore off a little, Edna said, “You can’t do anything until Virginia gets back from shopping, so why don’t you show me those pictures of the gardens.”

  After they’d cleared away the lunch dishes, talk turned to the restoration of the gardens to their early twentieth century condition. Seeming to relax somewhat, Peg brought out and unfolded a sketch she’d made, spreading a number of old photographs over the table so she could explain the design to Edna. They discussed the type and arrangement of the herbs and another half hour vanished quickly while the two old friends put their heads together, comparing the drawing to the pictures.

  “You know, I have some of these herbs in my own yard, Peg.” Edna said, gathering up the photos. “No sense buying what I can give you. I’ll prepare some pots and maybe you can send your gardener down to fetch them.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Peg exclaimed. “Your plants are so healthy. I’ll definitely take you up on the offer. I can hardly wait for Goran to start the actual planting. I’m sick of looking at mud.”

  Edna gazed out the window at the dark-haired young man plodding behind an old red tiller that had obviously seen better days. “I bet you’re not tired of looking at the one who’s creating all the mud,” she remarked, suppressing a laugh as she attempted to recapture the teasing banter of earlier that morning.

  Peg’s sudden look of astonishment turned to merriment in an instant. “I think you’ve turned into a dirty old woman, Edna Davies.” She giggled mischievously and both women turned back to enjoy the view.

  The rain had soaked the soil so that the gardener seemed to strain with the effort of keeping the rototiller moving forward. His heavy boots and the cuffs of his pants were brown with mud. Wagging her eyebrows at Peg, Edna teased, “Where did you find him?”

  Peg gently slapped Edna’s shoulder. “Well, you old letch, I already told you. Stephen hired him. Goran arrived at the house one morning about three weeks ago and announced that my husband had sent him.”

  “Nice present,” Edna kidded with a wink. Then, more seriously, she added, “I didn’t know Stephen had anything to do with the yard or with gardening.” She wondered if she might have to adjust her opinion of him after all.

  “He hasn’t up until now. I
was totally surprised when Goran said my husband hired him to help me restore the old gardens, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Quite right,” Edna said, grinning at Peg. Inwardly, she suppressed an inexplicably uneasy feeling. “What do you supposed possessed him to take such a sudden interest in getting help for you?”

  “Probably wants to make sure I keep busy.” Peg looked sheepishly at Edna. “I’ve been bored and restless since he’s spending more time at work. When I asked him how he happened to find a gardener, he just shrugged and kissed my cheek. That’s his way of avoiding my questions.” She paused briefly before adding, “Another reason I was so surprised when Goran showed up was that the restoration was something I had only begun to consider. After finding those old pictures in the hat box, I was mostly thinking out loud when I mentioned to Stephen that it might be nice to have gardens again. It was less than a week later that Goran knocked on the door.”

  “It is rather odd, but a nice gesture,” Edna said, believing only the first part of her statement. Curious about the worker himself, she said, “Let’s go talk to him, shall we?” She rose carefully from her chair. Her back had stiffened up with bending over the table, pouring over the old photographs.

  As the women approached, Goran was shutting off the machine, apparently finished with the job at hand. Being an amateur portrait artist, Edna attempted mentally to describe the gardener and noted with surprise how very ordinary he looked. Medium height and weight, brown hair and eyes, and no observable scars, moles or blemishes with which to distinguish him from hundreds or thousands of other thirty-something young men.

  Having failed to note unusual physical characteristics, she concentrated on his speech and tried unsuccessfully to detect any trace of an accent or grammatical idiosyncrasy that might reveal where he grew up. Nothing. No eastern brogue, no southern drawl or mid-western twang betrayed his origins.

  So intent was she on trying to figure the man out, she missed Peg’s question. “Sorry, what did you say?” Although speaking to Peg, she was still looking at Goran, so did not miss the fleeting expression before his face relaxed into one of polite attention. Had it been worry? Concern? Certainly it couldn’t have been fear. What would he have to fear from them? The impression dissipated like smoke in the wind before she could grab hold of it.

  “I was asking if Goran could drive down to your house this afternoon to pick up some of those plants you offered? Will that give you enough time?”

  Distracted from her observation of the man, Edna couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s almost child-like enthusiasm. She had planned on doing some errands before she returned home, but how could she say no? “Of course, this afternoon will be fine. Why don’t you come by around four o’clock,” she said to Goran.

  Soon after, she left to retrieve her car and drive back to South County. During the three quarters of an hour it took her to get home, she thought about the tragic story of the Graystockings’ maid and then wondered why Stephen was so adamant about keeping all of Peg’s jewelry in his bank vault. Also, why had he taken such an uncharacteristic interest in restoring the gardens, especially to the extent of finding a gardener? Peg always contracted the services needed for the house or the yard, even when she’d been married to Joey. Once, she had told Edna that Stephen seemed impatient with anything that didn’t directly relate to his work at the bank. “So, why would he suddenly change his spots?” Edna muttered aloud as she turned onto the crushed-shell driveway that circled around to her front door.

  Chapter Four

  As Edna turned off the motor and got out of the car, Benjamin came galloping around the corner of the house and jumped onto the hood, purring loudly and lifting his head for her to scratch along his jaw line.

  “Hi, Edna. Whatcha doin’?” Mary Osbourne strode through the gap in the stone wall that separated their two properties. Her black Labrador ran beside her, keeping pace with her long-legged stride. Edna rarely appeared in her yard without incurring a visit from her neighbor and Hank who had become her constant companion. Gregarious and not a little eccentric, Mary was a single woman who seemed to know everyone and everything that went on in their small town that was located not far from Rhode Island’s resort beaches.

  On this sunny April afternoon, for the morning’s rain clouds had all but disappeared, she was dressed in jungle camouflage fatigues, one of her preferred costumes. Edna thought her tall, lanky neighbor would blend nicely into the border of laurel bushes that ran along the roadside, if it weren’t for her mass of bright red hair. Poor Mary had her cross to bear, trying to tame her natural curls in the climate of southern New England. The morning rain had insured high humidity for the afternoon, and Mary’s baseball cap was perched on, rather than containing, her vibrant mane.

  She’d been an only child, born when her parents were in their forties and had nearly given up the idea of bearing offspring. She created a drastic change to the Osbournes’ life style, and neither they nor the relative they hired as a nanny seemed to know what to do with an energetic, red-headed child.

  In her mid-fifties and now alone in the world, Mary lived in the rambling, old family mansion next door to Edna and Albert. Curious and watchful by nature, she kept an eye on the neighborhood from her second story, or even sometimes her third story windows, and listened constantly to the police scanner that had belonged to her father from the days he’d served as a volunteer fireman. Edna frequently noticed curtains flutter in one or another of the Osbourne windows when she and Albert were sitting on their patio enjoying the late-afternoon sun, but she had stopped being the least bit annoyed with her neighbor’s intrusiveness since Mary had rescued her from almost certain death the previous fall.

  “Where’s Al,” the neighbor asked now, approaching the car.

  “Albert,” Edna corrected automatically. “He’s off with his pals for a week of golf.”

  Benjamin bent his head to sniff at Hank who raised his muzzle so the two nearly touched noses. They’d become friends during the several months since Mary had adopted the canine and brought him to live next door. Hank had belonged to Mary’s friend Tom Greene who had been Edna’s handyman. Once chased and taunted by the dog, Benjamin now took an occasional ride on Hank’s back.

  “Saw him drive off yesterday afternoon. Didn’t see him come home. Just wondered.” Mary walked over to stroke Benjamin’s back. “So you’re bach’n it this week.”

  “’Til next Sunday. He should be home around lunchtime. Did you need him for something?” Edna hid her smile as she leaned down to rub Hank’s ears. She knew darn well Mary was only being nosey.

  “Met the new neighbor?” Mary rested a hip against the car and crossed her arms over her chest. Edna thought her neighbor might have been considered plain, but for her lovely green eyes that were definitely the window to her soul. Guileless, Mary would never be able to hide her feelings. At the moment, she was not just a little curious.

  “Not yet. The Sharpes must be relieved that someone finally bought their place. I sure am glad it won’t be standing empty any longer.”

  She straightened as she spoke to look across the narrow macadam country lane at the house that was nearly half hidden by the tangle of lilacs and laurels growing in abundance along both sides of the road. The house wouldn’t be visible at all except the land sloped upwards and the building sat on top of the hill. A Prudential Gammons Realty sign had decorated the front lawn since the previous autumn when the owners moved out of town. In their hurried departure, they had not waited for the house to sell. Even Allen Gammons, the best realtor in the area, was unable to find a buyer as quickly as the Sharpes had wished. Local gossip and rumor jinxed the place, it seemed, and it was to Gammons’ credit that the place was finally off the market.

  She turned back to Mary. “Have you met them?”

  “’S not a ‘them’,” Mary replied. “New owner’s a woman. Been tryin’ to meet her, but she doesn’t answer the door. Seen her from a distance, is all.” />
  Edna swallowed another smile, knowing it was probably driving Mary crazy to have someone in the area whose acquaintance she hadn’t made and whose complete history was unknown to her. Giving Mary a chance to air whatever knowledge she’d gleaned so far, however, Edna asked, “Do you know anything about her?”

  “Name’s Joanna Cravendorf. I’ve gone over a few times and knocked on the door, but she doesn’t answer. Keeps her curtains drawn, too. Makes me wonder what she’s hiding.”

  “Oh, Mary, you’re too suspicious.” Edna spoke lightly to take any sting out of her words. “It could be that she’s just busy getting settled in and doesn’t want to be interrupted.”

  Mary gave Edna a “get real” look and snorted. “She’s been living there for almost three weeks. Should be moved in by now.” She frowned when she added, “She does her grocery shopping late at night. Why would she do that if she’s not hiding something?”

  “I don’t know.” Edna was growing tired of Mary’s skepticism. “Maybe she’s allergic to the sun or maybe she’s simply a night owl and sleeps during the day. That would also explain why she doesn’t answer the door.”

  Mary shrugged. “Maybe. I guess. But there’s something else suspicious about her. I can’t find her on the Internet. It’s like she doesn’t exist.”

  Edna glanced at her watch and gasped at the time. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Sorry, Mary, I’d like to help you figure it out,” she said, knowing full well sarcasm would be lost on her neighbor, “but I promised some herbs to a friend. Her gardener will be here to pick them up in less than an hour.”