03 Murder by Mishap Page 6

  Chapter Seven

  After arranging to contact Charlie when she returned from Providence later that day, Edna spent some time in her herb garden. It was a perfect spring morning as far as she was concerned, sunny with a touch of coolness to the air that made it pleasant to work outside. She had orange, caraway and wild thymes she wanted to plant, in addition to the regular garden and lemon thymes already growing among the rocks.

  Over the winter, she had read that thyme, a member of the mint family, is attractive to bees and repulses other insects. I’m all for that, she thought, setting down the small pots. She thought she might try making aromatic sachets of the herb to put in her linen cupboard, as they had in the old days.

  She dug three small holes with her trowel, each in a different area of the garden. Finishing the last, she stood up and looked back at her work, only to spot Benjamin scraping more dirt out of the first hole before going to the second to make that one a little deeper. Very seriously, he moved to the hole at her feet to do the same before leaping onto the nearby brick path and settling down to groom the soil out of his paws. Highly entertained by her cat, Edna wished she had a camera handy.

  “Thanks, my friend,” she said with a chuckle. Watching the time, she finished up in the herb garden, dug up a few mint plants for Peg, and headed indoors to shower and change her clothes.

  An hour later, she paused at the end of her driveway to study the house across the street for a minute, before pulling out onto the road. As she picked up Route 1 and headed for the city, she thought about Jaycee’s face with the idea of making the sketch for Charlie. She puzzled over what the young woman’s story might be and why someone from the Chicago police might want to have her watched. Personal or business, she wondered. Traffic began to pick up as she merged onto Interstate 95. Forgetting about her neighbor for the time being, she focused on her driving and watched for the exit to Memorial Boulevard.

  When she reached the historic clubhouse, she parked in the lot off Benefit Street and walked around to the front entrance. Formed in 1880 to encourage an appreciation of art in the community, the Providence Art Club was one of the oldest art clubs in the country. The house, originally the residence of Obadiah Brown, was built in 1790. Club founders took it over in 1887, creating studios and galleries and providing a gathering place for members. Club membership was restricted and included both artist and non-artist categories. Edna had been an artist member for eight years and had even won a few awards for her portraits. She preferred to paint in oils, but occasionally someone’s face would prompt her to sketch in pen and ink.

  The exhibition in the Maxwell Mays Gallery was for the graduating seniors from the nearby Rhode Island School of Design, or “RIZ-dee” as it was commonly called. RISD, consistently the highest ranked fine arts college in the country, was contiguous to Brown University on College Hill and only a short walk from the Art Club. Edna made it a point to visit student exhibitions each spring, interested to observe trends from one graduating class to the next.

  “I like that one particularly, don’t you?” Peg had come up quietly and stood looking over Edna’s left shoulder at an Impressionistic-style oil painting of a walled garden containing a profusion of flowers in bright yellows, reds, purples, greens and oranges.

  “Yeeesss,” Edna drew out the word, thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly as she studied the work. Straightening to turn to her friend, she nodded to more artwork on an adjacent wall. “There are so many talented young artists in this room. I’m almost overwhelmed.”

  Peg smiled and hooked her arm through Edna’s. “Then let’s get out of here and go have lunch. Are you ready?” Her smile faded and she looked momentarily apologetic. “I’m not rushing you, am I? I purposely took a long walk to give you time to enjoy yourself. I spent an afternoon here last week, so I knew you’d like it.”

  “What did Stephen think of it?” Edna assumed Peg had attended with her husband.

  “He hasn’t seen it yet. Lately, it seems he hasn’t much time for anything except his dusty old bank.”

  Peg’s tone was light, but Edna detected a sadness in her words. When she looked at her friend, however, Peg’s expression was cheerful, as if she were determined to push negative thoughts away. “Come on. Let’s go over to the Capital Grille. I’m dying for some lobster bisque.”

  Edna had to laugh at her friend’s enthusiasm, feigned or not. “It’s really the sherry they drizzle on it that you like. Admit it.”

  “Never,” Peg said, her eyes shining. “The way you talk, people will think I’m nothing but an old lush.”

  Even after one o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon, there was a good crowd at the Grille, but the women were seated almost immediately in the lounge area. It was cozily warm in the room and smelled faintly of cooking spices.

  Peg was wearing a blue-gray jacket dress that complemented the color of her eyes. Once the waiter retreated with their orders for white wine and bowls of lobster bisque, she slipped off the jacket and draped it over her chair back.

  Edna nodded at the sparkling pin on her dress. “Did you fix the clasp?”

  “I bent it a little so it would hold, but I do need to take it to a regular jeweler to look at.”

  “So Stephen hasn’t yet squirreled it away in the depths of his bank vault.”

  Peg tucked her chin to look down at the brooch. “No, but I have to hide it from him. I’m sure he’d grab it, if I’d left it out on my dressing table.” She wrinkled her nose at Edna. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Fine with me.” Edna picked up her linen napkin, focusing her attention for a moment on opening it and laying the silky smoothness over her lap before asking, “What are you going to say to Cherisse? Have you thought about it?”

  Before Peg could reply, the waiter returned. She waited in silence as he carefully served them wine and water. He’d added a thin wedge of lemon to each water glass. When he was again out of earshot, Peg sighed heavily.

  “I haven’t thought of much else since I learned Cherisse was still living. I had the impression she was on her way out when they returned from Florida three years ago. How do I tell her about Mother’s pin turning up, after all these years?”

  “Literally turning up,” Edna said dryly, showing only a hint of amusement in her expression, but hoping to lighten Peg’s mood.

  “Yes,” her friend replied with equally feigned solemnity, but her eyes regained some sparkle. She held her glass up in a silent acknowledgement of the pun before lowing it to take a sip. It was only after this small bit of drama that she looked at Edna more seriously. “I really have been thinking of what to say and I’m still not certain how to begin. I feel terrible for the poor woman, but fifty years have passed. Do you think I’m being wise to rake it all up again?”

  Edna tasted her Chardonnay before speaking. “Virginia knows the pin has been found, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she’s remained friends with Cherisse and the family?”

  “Yes.” Peg gave another sigh. “I see what you mean, and yes, I’d rather confess to them myself. Even if Virginia hasn’t already said something to them, I’d rather they hear an apology from me before any more time goes by.”

  “Do you think Virginia wouldn’t mention it?”

  “She might not. Out of loyalty to me, I suppose.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “No. We haven’t talked about it specifically. I think she’s been waiting for me to bring up the subject. I haven’t wanted to talk about it until I get it all sorted out in my head. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I think I do. Do you want to practice your approach before we leave for the nursing home?”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks for the offer. I have so many different thoughts spinning around in my head, I’ll probably wait to see how the conversation goes once we get there. It may all depend on how frail or how alert Cherisse is. According to Virginia, she’s been declining fairly rapidly lately, but m
ostly physically, not mentally. If her mind isn’t wandering and if she remembers who I am, I think I’ll begin by saying I wanted to visit her and break the silence that has existed for so many years. I’ll say that Virginia told me only recently about Cherisse’s failing health. What do you think?”

  “Sounds like a good way to start,” Edna agreed. “Will you wear the pin when you speak to her?”

  “That would be rubbing it in, don’t you think?” Peg frowned at Edna. “You know I have better manners than that.”

  “Just checking, since you’re wearing it at the moment.”

  “I brought a little box to put it in until …” Peg hesitated before continuing, “or if, I decide to show it to her. As I said, it all depends on her condition and what sort of reception I get.”

  Edna noticed the waiter approaching and reached for her wine glass in a silent gesture to Peg that they were about to be interrupted. Large, shallow bowls of hot, pink and cream soup were placed before them and after a brief conversation with the waiter that “no, they were fine for now and didn’t need anything further at the moment,” the two women were alone again. Neither spoke until they had tasted the bisque. Both agreed it lived up to and probably exceeded their expectations.

  “I wonder how freshly chopped basil would taste on this,” Peg said.

  “Thyme is more common in lobster dishes.” Edna took a small spoonful and rolled it around on her tongue, trying to imagine it with basil. “Hmmm. I think the jury will remain out on your suggestion. I’ll try it next time I have lobster. I might also try rosemary or even a bit of lemon grass.”

  “Better yet, try it with hot rosemary bread, right out of the oven.” Peg’s eyes glowed with the thought she’d conjured up.

  “Speaking of herbs,” Edna hesitated for a second or two as she put her spoon down. “What do you know about your gardener?”

  “Goran? What should I know?” The edges of Peg’s mouth began to lift. “He’s good at plowing up the lawn. He digs holes and puts plants where I tell him to. And, as you so lasciviously pointed out yesterday, he looks good doing it.”

  Edna couldn’t help laughing, but then became serious. “But what do you really know about him? Where does he come from, and what made him decide to take up gardening? What sort of gardener doesn’t know the difference between mint and lemon balm?”

  “I assume Stephen checked his references.” Peg looked down at the brooch as she unpinned it from her dress, avoiding Edna’s eyes.

  “That’s another thing,” Edna said, not able to keep the annoyance from her voice. “Why did Stephen hire him when he’s never done anything like that before? Does he even know how to conduct an interview for household help?”

  At that, Peg did look up at Edna, a smile playing around her lips. “Just because Goran doesn’t know everything there is to know about gardening, doesn’t make him an evil man.” Suddenly, she couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Besides, he’s promised to give me a ride on his bike. I can’t fire him until I have my first motorcycle ride, can I?”

  Edna gave a short laugh. “I give up.” For now, she thought.

  Peg removed a small jeweler’s box from her handbag, carefully wrapped the brooch in a bit of tissue paper and placed it on the cotton in the box. Replacing the tiny lid, she put the box back into her bag. Her smile had faded as she’d concentrated on this chore. Looking across the table at Edna, she said, “Ready to go?”

  They settled their bill with the waiter and rose to confront the task ahead.

  Chapter Eight

  Twenty minutes later, as she and Peg approached Cherisse’s room at the nursing home in West Warwick, Edna gently laid her hand on her friend’s arm. “Shall I wait for you in the sitting room?”

  The look Peg returned was one of near panic. “No. I need you with me, Ed. I’m not sure I can face her alone. You don’t have to say anything, but I’ll feel much braver if you’re there.” Taking hold of Edna’s hand, she moved quietly, pulling Edna along behind her, and slowly peered around the half-opened door.

  “May I help you?” A soft, melodious voice came from inside the room.

  When Peg didn’t move, Edna nudged her forward. If she were to join them and not wait in the lounge, she at least wanted to see those in the room and not simply the back of Peg’s head.

  The speaker was a woman Edna guessed to be about seventy and then adjusted the age by two years when she realized this must be Cherisse’s daughter Renee. She was a slender woman with wispy, white hair cut boyishly short. Wearing a sea-green polo shirt and charcoal-gray woolen slacks, she looked prim seated in a chair by the bed. Edna watched Renee’s expression turn from curiosity to puzzlement to slow recognition as her eyes moved from Peg’s face to Edna’s and quickly back to Peg. The book she’d been reading dropped to her lap.

  A brief silence ensued during which Cherisse’s daughter stared long and hard at Peg. Finally, she said, “You look like your mother.” Only then did she shift her gaze to the woman on the bed. “Don’t you think, so, Mama?”

  Cherisse Froissard rested against a mound of pillows that seemed to be keeping her upright. Her skin had a grayish cast and her short, straight hair lay like a limp cap on her head, but her light blue eyes held an interest that belied the frailty of the body.

  When Renee turned back to them, her eyes, a slightly darker shade than her mother’s, were cool. “It’s been a very long time, Peg. What brings you here?”

  “I …” Peg started to speak, then faltered until Edna gently poked her in the back. “I came to visit Cherisse.”

  “Why? And who have you brought with you?” Renee nodded toward Edna as she frowned at Peg. Her voice hadn’t risen, but it did hold a hint of animosity.

  “Renee.” The woman on the bed reached a shaky hand toward her daughter, her tone weak but admonishing. Her other hand lifted from the coverlet to beckon Peg. “Come closer, dear, so I can see you better. These old eyes aren’t so good anymore.”

  The room was overly warm and small, filled by the single hospital bed, a narrow bedside table and two chairs. The unoccupied chair stood beside a long, narrow window that looked out onto a small patch of grass and beyond to another wing of the facility. On the side of the room opposite the window were two doors. One concealed a bathroom and the other a closet, Edna guessed.

  Peg took the few steps to reach Cherisse’s side and stood across the bed from Renee who continued to frown, but more in question than hostility now, it seemed to Edna. In contrast, Cherisse’s smile was open and friendly.

  “You do look like your mother, Peggy dear. She was very pretty, you know.”

  Peg didn’t reply, but took the old woman’s hand and held it between her own. Edna couldn’t tell if Peg didn’t know what to say or if she didn’t trust herself to speak at the moment. Edna guessed it was the latter.

  Silence filled the room until she wanted to say something if only to cut through what was growing to be an awkward embarrassment. Before she could think of what to say, however, Cherisse spoke, repeating her daughter’s earlier words.

  “It has been a long time. What brings you here today? Has Virginia told you I am dying?”

  “Oh, no.” Peg sounded shocked. “She hasn’t said anything of the sort.”

  “What then? Why should you suddenly show up at my mother’s bedside?” The questions burst from Renee harsh and loud. Glancing at her mother as if in apology, Renee softened her next words. “Mama isn’t strong and tires easily. Please say whatever it is you came to say and then leave us.”

  “Renee,” Cherisse rolled her head on the pillow to scowl at her daughter in silent rebuke. Only a few heartbeats passed before her face brightened and she smiled. “My daughter means well. Takes care of me, but worries too much.” She reached out to Renee and, as she did so, her eyes went to a small vase of yellow daffodils on the bedside table. “She grows such beautiful flowers. She brought these to me this morning.” Cherisse swiveled her head on the pillow to look back at Peg. “Now, dear, tell us w
hat has brought you here today.”

  “Actually, I came to show you something.” Peg pulled the small box from her handbag, adding as she did so, “And I came to apologize.”

  “Apologize?” Cherisse’s face showed surprise.

  Renee glowered.

  Edna watched as Peg set the small box on the bed near the withered hand she had released seconds before. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she removed the lid and took out the wad of tissue. She looked at neither of the Froissard women as she began to open the filmy white paper in the palm of her hand. All eyes were on the object, so only Edna realized another person had entered the room when he moved quietly to stand next to her.

  “What’s going on?” A deep, male voice cut into the silence of the room, making them all jump. “Having a party?” He looked around the room with an amused expression, waiting for someone to answer.

  Edna saw Renee tilt her head in Peg’s direction and guessed the stranger’s identity before Cherisse’s daughter confirmed it. “As you can see, Guy, Mama’s got a visitor.”

  The tall, good-looking man with wavy gray hair was Cherisse’s son. Guy slid his eyes to Edna. She guessed him to be about six feet tall, slender like his sister, with a thick moustache on his upper lip that was more pepper than salt. His eyes were a shade of blue nearly identical to his sister’s, except his had a touch of humor that hers did not. Edna had the immediate impression that he considered himself quite the dandy. With good reason, she thought. His open-neck, pearl-gray silk shirt and black slacks were as neat and trim as the rest of his appearance.

  She smiled faintly, nodded briefly and stared back until Guy finally shifted his eyes to Peg. It took him a few seconds longer than his sister to recognize his former childhood playmate. “Peggy?” His tone was a question, wonder and doubt in his voice. “Peggy Graystocking?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You look like Isabelle. What are you doing here?” The anger that had colored his sister’s questions and comments wasn’t apparent in his tone.