The Fool Dies Last, page 21
‘What’s wrong?’ Hope said. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No.’ Summer padded toward the bed. ‘But I’m worried about Gram. Do you think she’ll get in trouble because of the tontine?’
Hope rubbed her face and sat up partway, leaning against the pillows. ‘I think the whole tontine is trouble.’
‘Good lord, yes. I’m amazed that Gram ever wanted to be part of such a thing. It’s so macabre.’
‘True, but to be fair, it probably seemed harmlessly quirky and bohemian at the time, which is right up Gram’s alley. After all, you don’t open a mystic shop if you’re not a bit quirky and bohemian.’
‘So if we’ve been running the shop for the last five years – more or less – what does that make us?’
Hope smiled. ‘Captivatingly unconventional.’
Summer laughed, climbed up on to the bed, and sat on the blanket next to her sister. ‘I’m pretty sure that Gary would agree with the unconventional part, not so much the captivating.’
‘Then it’s a good thing that dear detective Nate does.’
With a touch of embarrassment, Summer laughed again. ‘You’re being silly. But while we’re on the subject of the police, that’s what I’m worried about. Now that Nate knows about the tontine, won’t Gram get in trouble for participating in it? Didn’t Gerald say that tontines were illegal?’
‘In some places they are, apparently. But my guess is that it doesn’t apply here, because otherwise the lawyer wouldn’t have done the paperwork for the group. It might also depend on the type of tontine. A small, private one is OK, for example. But a big, public one that anyone can join isn’t, because there’s too much potential for fraud and abuse.’
‘That would make sense. Dylan didn’t seem to think that there was anything wrong with his tontine, which is obviously private.’
‘And Nate was really casual in his response. He didn’t act as though there could be legal repercussions. So I don’t think that there’s anything to be concerned about with regard to Gram. If there does turn out to be a problem later on,’ Hope added, ‘then you’ll just have to convince Nate to look the other way.’
‘How am I supposed to do that?’ Summer exclaimed.
Hope grinned. ‘The old-fashioned way, of course. Bat your eyelashes and coo sweet nothings in his ear when you have that drink you promised him.’
Summer didn’t share the smile, and her eyes went down to the blanket. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to that. I’m still married, remember.’
‘Now who’s being silly?’ Hope said. ‘It’s just a drink. One glass, here at the brownstone, either in the living room or outside on the patio. You haven’t committed to a wild night of clubbing or a weekend tryst with the man.’
‘Speaking of trysts,’ Summer pulled on a loose thread at the corner of the blanket, ‘I wonder if Gary and what’s-her-name spent the weekend together at the hotel?’
‘I don’t know. Possibly.’ Hope was thoughtful. ‘It’s odd in a way.’
‘Not really.’ Summer pulled harder on the thread. ‘Gary hasn’t been at the house, so he must be staying somewhere else.’
‘That’s what I mean. You’re not staying at the house, and Gary isn’t staying at the house, which makes it odd about the card.’
‘What card?’
‘The Tarot card. The Fool that somebody put in your mail slot.’
Startled, Summer let go of the thread and looked up at her sister. ‘I forgot all about the card.’
‘I did, too. Then Nate talked about people being fooled by the appearance of wealth, and his choice of words reminded me.’
Summer shook her head. ‘I don’t agree with him – or Dylan. I still think the murderer must need the money; otherwise, they wouldn’t have waited for so many years to start killing members of the tontine.’
‘But what if it’s not about the money?’ Hope said.
‘How could it not be about the money? Money is the whole point of the tontine.’
‘On the face of it, yes. The problem is the third Fool. If the cards in Roberta’s handbag and Marilyn’s pocket were meant as some sort of a message in relation to the tontine, then why give a card to you or Gary? You clearly aren’t members. Neither of you can get the money. So what’s the purpose of it?’
‘Maybe it’s a mistake,’ Summer suggested. ‘Maybe the card was intended for someone else. Gram, for instance. Whoever dropped the card through the slot – the killer, presumably – could have thought that Gram was living at my house instead of here or at Morris’s.’
Hope was doubtful. ‘That seems an unlikely mistake. Everybody knows where Gram lives, and even if not, it isn’t hard to figure out.’
‘Then maybe it was deliberately designed to confuse us. Maybe the killer was worried that they had given away too much information with the first two cards, and they wanted to throw us off the scent with the third, purposely pointing us in the wrong direction.’
‘If that’s the case, then their strategy worked, because I’m definitely confused, and I have no clue what direction to go in.’
Summer reflected a moment, then offered a final possibility. ‘Maybe we’re wrong about everything. Maybe the simplest answer is the correct one. Sylvia or Kirsten is the murderer. The plan is to kill Gram next, followed by either Kirsten or Sylvia, and that’s the end of it. Easy-peasy.’
Hope looked at her without speaking.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Summer said. ‘That I sound horrible. Just as ghoulish and macabre as the tontine. Here I am, sitting on your bed in my pajamas, wishing for a cup of coffee, calmly discussing whether one of Gram’s oldest friends plotted to kill the rest.’
‘No,’ Hope answered. ‘I was thinking that maybe the murderer is right about the cards. Maybe we’re all fools.’
Half an hour later, coffee mugs in hand, Hope and Summer were standing on the brownstone’s third-floor landing, gazing down the hall at the closed door leading up to the attic steps.
‘I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,’ Summer murmured.
‘Probably not,’ Hope agreed, in an equally low tone, ‘but I don’t see that we have much choice. We need that paper.’
‘We need that paper.’
‘But do we really need to whisper?’
Summer raised an eyebrow at her sister. ‘Do you want them to hear us?’
Hope gave a little shrug. ‘I would be very surprised if they didn’t already know that we’re standing down here. They probably also know why. Don’t forget, I spent most of the afternoon in the attic searching through stacks of boxes. Then Gerald tried to get up there for the same reason—’
‘And he failed, thankfully.’ Summer started to take a sip of her coffee and choked. ‘Is that his blood on the wall?’
‘Yes. Gerald got a couple of cuts in the fall.’
‘He’s lucky. It could have been a lot worse.’
‘It’s bad enough,’ Hope replied. ‘He’s in the hospital, and we can’t talk to him, which means that he can’t tell us who made him take Gram’s keys and who he’s supposed to meet tomorrow in the spa.’
‘Today,’ Summer corrected her. ‘Today in the spa.’
Hope looked at the pale streaks of sunlight rising through the window at the end of the hall. ‘You’re right. It’s morning.’
‘At least that’s one point in our favor. The attic is always much safer at dawn than at dusk.’
Acknowledging the truth of the remark, they were both silent for a long minute, listening for any sounds above them.
‘It’s quiet up there,’ Hope said, whispering in spite of herself.
‘That’s a promising sign,’ Summer whispered back at her. ‘They must be tired. Interacting with Gerald took a substantial amount of energy for them, especially if they assisted in his fall down the stairs.’
‘They also slammed the door at the top of the steps when Dylan and I talked about the paper being up there. And there was some growling after Dylan complained about the staircase being dangerous and not in compliance with safety codes. He’s in accord with his dad that the attic should be shut off permanently.’
Summer’s eyes stretched wide. ‘Dylan actually spoke those words?’
‘Loud and clear,’ Hope confirmed.
‘Merciful heaven. Forget my comment earlier about Gerald being lucky. Dylan was the lucky one – lucky that the door at the top of the steps didn’t instantly fly back open and a sharp object wasn’t flung at his head.’
‘I thought the same thing. Needless to say, I switched the subject as fast as I could.’ Hope lowered her voice so that it was barely audible. ‘I’m worried that Dylan might be starting to take too great an interest in the attic, and also that he might be learning too much, especially considering his remarks just before he and Nate left last night.’
Summer nodded. ‘We’ll have to be more careful in the future, both in regard to what we tell him and not letting him come up here.’
‘Agreed.’
Again they were silent, listening for noises.
‘Still quiet,’ Summer observed. ‘I guess whatever they were moving around in the early hours, they’re done now.’
‘They were moving things around? I didn’t hear that. It must have been during the fifteen minutes that I actually managed to sleep.’
‘That’s fifteen minutes more than me.’
The sisters shared a tired sigh and each took a hefty drink of coffee.
‘Well,’ Hope said at last, sighing once more and setting down her mug on the railing, ‘procrastinating isn’t going to help. There’s no indication of activity, and it’s light outside. This is as good as it gets.’
With reluctance, Summer concurred. ‘Don’t stay up there too long. It’s better not to find the paper than …’ She let the sentence trail away unfinished.
‘But I have to find the paper. Gram’s life might depend on it—’
Hope broke off abruptly. She hadn’t meant to say it. She had tried hard not to think it. But the dreadful possibility had finally slipped out.
Summer looked shaken. ‘So my guess could be correct? Sylvia or Kirsten is the killer, and the plan is to go after Gram next?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know. As Dylan and Nate pointed out, Sylvia and Kirsten both had the motive and the opportunity. But I still find it difficult to believe, particularly with regard to Sylvia. Yesterday at brunch when she talked about the tontine and Marilyn and Roberta’s deaths, she sounded a lot more obtuse than culpable. She even doubted whether there could be a third victim, because she didn’t see what purpose it would serve.’
‘If she didn’t think that there could be a third victim, then she clearly wasn’t the one who put the third Fool through my mail slot.’ Summer’s brow furrowed. ‘Except maybe it was an act at brunch yesterday. Maybe Sylvia was just pretending to be obtuse to keep us from suspecting her.’
‘Then it was an awfully convincing act. You might be right, though. At this point, anything is possible. Sylvia could be the one who actually stole Gram’s keys. She could also be the one who Gerald is supposed to meet at the spa.’ Hope stopped and shook her head. ‘No, that doesn’t make sense. Gerald wouldn’t have been so agitated about meeting his mom. He was desperate about bringing the paper to someone, and he seemed terrified of the consequences if that didn’t happen. It’s more likely that the person threatened Sylvia, and Gerald was trying to protect her by promising to deliver the paper. That would also explain why he mentioned Gram just before he went unconscious. He was warning me that Gram was in danger, too.’
‘Which only leaves Kirsten!’ Summer exclaimed. ‘The simplest answer really might be the best.’
Hope was hesitant. ‘But isn’t it almost too simple? Doesn’t it feel as though we’re missing something?’
‘We’re missing the paper.’
‘So is the murderer, evidently …’
And without further ado, Hope stepped into the hall and headed toward the attic door. When she reached it, she paused and glanced back. Summer was sitting on the landing, her knees pulled to her chest.
‘You have to be careful.’ Summer’s voice was shaky. ‘We don’t know what they were moving around up there. They might have put something at the edge of the steps, and it could come crashing down as soon as you open the door.’
Hope tried to feign a smile, with little success. ‘That would be a first. They’ve never laid a trap for me before.’
‘Not for you, but for others,’ Summer reminded her.
With that thought in mind, Hope moved to the side of the door and gingerly turned the knob. The door opened an inch. Nothing happened. She opened it further. Still nothing. Hope leaned forward and cautiously looked up the steps.
‘The stairs are empty,’ she reported. ‘The door at the top is closed. There doesn’t appear to be any change from last night.’ She didn’t mention that the streaks of Gerald’s blood on the floor at the base of the stairs had dried from dark red to russet brown.
‘I have an idea,’ Summer said suddenly.
Hope turned to her.
‘To speed things up, you could try searching with a pair of dowsing rods. Or a pendulum. The pendulum has always worked for you before.’
‘It’s worked twice,’ Hope clarified. ‘Once to find the garage door opener and once to find the television remote.’
‘But you were successful both times.’
‘And both times I got a long lecture from Gram afterward on how the pendulum isn’t a toy and should never be used for frivolous purposes.’
‘Finding something as important as the paper can’t possibly be considered a frivolous purpose,’ Summer protested.
‘No, but it’s too dangerous taking the pendulum into the attic. The veil is already so thin up there. We can’t risk opening up a channel and letting something in.’
Summer shuddered and offered no further argument.
Hope turned back to the staircase. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘There is no luck when it comes to the attic,’ Summer remarked grimly.
Avoiding Gerald’s blood, Hope put a tentative foot on the first step. She waited for a response. There was none. She climbed several more steps and waited again. After a minute, she proceeded the remainder of the way up the staircase.
Just as it had appeared from below, the door at the top of the steps was firmly shut. Hope leaned her ear against the wood and listened. The only noise was a faint chirping from the family of finches that roosted in the pine outside the attic window.
Reaching for the knob, Hope gave it a slight jiggle. It moved without resistance. She paused for a moment, remembering Summer’s warning about a potential trap. If there was anything perched on the edge of the steps waiting to crash down, she wouldn’t be able to avoid it in the narrow stairway. But nothing had ever fallen on her before. She was just going to have to take the chance. With a deep breath and partially closed eyes, Hope turned the knob and swung open the door.
There was no crash. When she reopened her eyes and switched on the light, she found no trap, either. Summer was correct on a different point, however. Things had definitely been moved around during the night. For starters, the stacks of boxes had changed. Some had shrunk, while others had grown. Two of the old willow rocking chairs had shifted from the left corner of the room to the right. And the pair of antique snowshoes that she had told Dylan about were now standing on their tails, leaning against a support beam. But the most noticeable alteration was directly in front of her. Just inside the doorway, only a few inches from Hope’s feet, sat a single brown banker’s box.
Having never seen the box before, she was quite sure that she was not the one who had placed it there. Hope stepped toward it for a closer look. The cardboard was wrinkled and misshapen as though it had gotten wet and then dried on multiple occasions. That didn’t surprise her. Over the years, there had been more than a few leaks in the attic. Some were the natural result of the brownstone’s aging roof and gutters. Others had come from a more mischievous source when the attic windows were opened in the middle of rainstorms.
The lid on the box was in such poor condition that flimsy pieces of cardboard broke off in her hands as she lifted it. At first glance, the box appeared empty, but when she leaned down to be certain, she discovered a large manila envelope at the bottom. The envelope was just as wrinkled and tattered as the box. It was stamped with a name and address at the top. The black ink was heavily smeared. Hope picked it up and squinted at it. She couldn’t decipher many of the words, but the first few were enough.
Law Offices of …
Her heart skipped a beat. It turned out that she didn’t need dowsing rods or a pendulum. The attic had found the paper for her.
Hope looked up, and her eyes traveled slowly around the room. No shadows moved. No sounds reached her ears except for the busily chirping finches outside the window.
‘Thank you,’ she said aloud.
Then, switching off the light and gently closing the door, she returned to her sister and the third floor, the envelope hugged in her arms.
TWENTY-THREE
‘The print on this first page is too faded,’ Summer said, magnifying glass in hand, closely studying the yellowed paper. ‘I can hardly make out any of it.’
She and Hope were sitting at the palm-reading table in the front corner of the boutique. The natural lighting was the best in that part of the shop, exactly what they needed for examining a brittle, moisture-stained document.
‘The second page is the same way. Except … see here at the bottom’ – Hope turned the crinkled sheet toward her sister and pointed to the spot – ‘the names are smudged, but those are clearly six signatures lines.’
‘So it’s definitely the tontine!’
They looked at each other across the table and shared a triumphant smile. Unfortunately, neither the smile nor the triumph was long-lived.
‘But if we can only read a few intermittent words and some signatures, what good will it do us?’ Summer slumped against the back of her chair. ‘We were hoping for a grand revelation, weren’t we? We don’t know anything more now than we did when we got out of bed this morning.’
