Another Grave Matter, page 12
part #3 of Volstead Manor Series
“Oh.” I breathed again. “Okay.” I wiped the damp hair out of my face. “Sorry for badgering you, but you really scared me.”
“I know.”
“You know?” I calmed my voice, but I wanted to scream at her. “Did you mean to scare me?”
“No. But it was nice to see somebody actually care.” She tightened the boa around herself.
“It’s turned cold. Come on inside.” I walked to the door, and she followed me into the sunroom. Dedra’s talking parrot, George, ruffled his feathers.
“Let’s have some chamomile tea to warm up. Okay?”
“All right.”
We padded into the kitchen, and I pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
I slipped off my jacket and covered her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
I started a pot of water on the stove—making sure it was on power boil—and took a box of chamomile tea out of the pantry. “Why were you out in the cold without shoes and a jacket?” I took two mugs out of the cabinet.
“I don’t know. The house can be so confining sometimes.”
“And what did you mean, it was nice for somebody to actually care? Lots of people care about you, Dedra.”
She dipped her head. “Not after what I said.”
I brought the mugs and the tea over to the table. “You mean about loving Max?”
“I’m sorry for the way I feel. I know it’s not fair. But I felt like such a liar. I loved you both enough to tell you the truth.” She looked at me then, her eyes filled with tears.
“I do appreciate you being honest. So few people are anymore.” I squeezed her hand. “We can work this out.”
Dedra fiddled with the packet of tea but didn’t open it. “To change my feelings for Max would be like telling the wind to go south when it was meant to go north. You can’t change the wind. . .or love.”
“I know that’s true from personal experience.” The teakettle made a little whistling sound, and I poured the water into our mugs.
“Bailey, you know that panic you felt on the patio a few minutes ago?”
I sat down next to her. “Yeah.”
“That’s the way I felt when you first told me you were going to marry Max.”
My heart broke hearing those words. Oh, God, why would You let this happen? Dedra has finally found someone who truly cares for her, and I had learned to let go of my past and love again. It seems impossible to fix this, and yet You made us all. You know the way to make things right again.
I reached over to Dedra, and we just held each other for awhile.
When she eased away, I said, “Do you think these feelings are exaggerated because you’re not taking care of your health?”
“Maybe.” She opened her packet of tea and made the bag bob up and down in the hot water. “But I’ve felt this way all along, it’s just that it’s harder now to keep the feelings hidden.”
“And so you don’t love Adam?”
“Perhaps I love them both, but in different ways.”
I leaned toward her, anxious to hear her out. “Do you want to talk about it? You know, the differences.”
“Well, with Max, it was like falling in love with my best friend. He’s everything wonderful. But Adam and I have a passion for the same things.” She paused.
Her interlude went on for so long, I took a sip from my cup, but then set it aside. I’d never liked the taste of chamomile tea. It always seems like a sad little beverage that was missing something. Oh, yeah. Caffeine. I remained quiet, since I felt Dedra would eventually have more to say.
“I know that Max could never love me, but for some reason I had to clear the air. I had to let this out. Better now than later. Right, Bailey?”
“You’re right.” I gave her a gentle smile. “It would have been pretty awkward after we were married.”
“Thanks for letting me talk about this. Only a good friend would listen like you do. Most women I know would have stormed out by now.”
I chuckled. “Well, I’ve never really been the storming type.”
She touched my hand. “Yeah, that’s one of the many things I like about you.”
“I realize it benefits me to say this. . .but there is a practical side to your dilemma. Even though you care about both men, only one of them has offered to marry you. Maybe you should go with the guy who’s holding out the ring.”
Dedra laughed. “You really are a facts kind of gal.” She drank down a few swallows of tea and then picked up the boa. “My mother gave me this before she died.” She held it to her nose and smiled. “It still has her scent on it.Her favorite lavender talcum powder. Sometimes I wear it when I want to feel close to her. Like right now. She was always so good with advice. . .just like you.” She stretched. “Wow, I’m really sleepy now.”
I cleaned up the kitchen and helped Dedra to bed. She snuggled down peacefully into the softness. I stayed with her until she drifted off. Sleep looked so good. I couldn’t wait to rest my head.
I got up from the bedside chair and noticed that Dedra had left a drawer open on her nightstand. Just as I was about to push it shut something caught my attention—a novel with a blazing fire on the cover. I quietly eased the drawer out and took a good look at the book. It was entitled, Wild Fire.
Dread started to trickle into my spirit, but I renounced it soundly. The book proved nothing. Besides, it was a novel, not a how-to book on starting fires. I heard a noise out on the street and walked to the window. I lifted a blind. Nothing was on the street below. No cars or people. My imagination was creeping up on me again.
Walking back toward the doorway, I felt something underfoot. I looked down and found a small can of sewing machine oil on the floor. I retrieved the can and set it back on Dedra’s sewing cabinet. Why was it on the floor? Could have just fallen off. But the oilcan had been a few yards away from the sewing cabinet. That was certainly a long way for it to fall.
I picked up the oilcan again. It was one of those flat containers with a tiny plastic spout so you could squirt the oil precisely where you wanted it—like the narrow spot behind the fuses in my breaker box. And the can felt oily to the touch as if it had been used recently. Surely not. But Dedra certainly had the motivation. She wanted Max, and I was in the way. If I were to die in a fire, she might think she’d have a chance to win him. Then when the fire failed, Dedra became insistent that I stay with her. Was I even safe sleeping downstairs? I closed my eyes, wishing I could shut out such terrible accusations. Oh, God, please forgive me. My dark thoughts are consuming me.
I looked over at Dedra as she slept innocently in her bed while her friend was cooking up horrendous tales about her. Dedra was having real problems with her disorder and with her emotions, but no matter what, she would never harm me. The last thing she needed was for her best friend to accuse her of arson and attempted murder. I set the oilcan on the sewing machine cabinet and headed downstairs to my bedroom, feeling more loathing for myself than I’d ever felt in my life.
Morning seemed to come earlier than usual, as if nature had decided to cheat me on an hour or two of shuteye. I deserved whatever I got. With groggy eyes, I glanced over at the clock on the night stand. 9:00 a.m. What? How could that have happened? Oh yeah, Dedra’s alarm was broken.
I rose, rubbed my face and head to wake myself up, and then stumbled into the kitchen for some real ogre-like coffee. Even though I knew it would taste nasty with expired beans and an antiquated coffee-maker, it needed to be strong enough to wake me up. Woody G. was probably already over there with the crew working on the house. Fortunately, he already knew what to do and how to do it.
What was that racket? Surely not the doorbell at nine in the morning? Didn’t people have manners anymore? I threw on my chenille bathrobe and slogged to Dedra’s front door, barely awake enough to remember who I was. I opened the door without even thinking to look through the peephole.
“Good morning,” two men said.
Why were they shouting? I squinted at them in the bright morning light. “May I help you?”
“I’m Langstrom Keys,” one of the men said.
That name tumbled around in my brain for a second or two. Langstrom Keys. He was a local talk show host on Channel 31. Yeah, and considered a celebrity by most Houstonians. As far as my perception of the guy, the jury was still deliberating. But wait a minute, what was Langstrom Keys doing on Dedra’s porch at nine o’clock in the morning?
29 – Half the Neighborhood Looked Guilty
“Yes, I’ve seen you on television. May I help you?”
Mr. Keys smiled through the screen door as if he were still in front of the TV camera. Maybe he couldn’t turn himself off.
“Well, Mr. Greely here was telling me about you and your house, and I wanted to come and speak to you personally.”
Oh, no. I took a good long look at the guy standing next to Mr. Keys. Jason Greely! He’d found me again. The sneak. He looked different somehow. Must have had his hair highlighted, or he must have bathed or something. All he wore were baggy shorts and a T-shirt. Wasn’t he cold? I gave Jason the evil eye and then looked back at Mr. Keys. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, but I think I already know what this is about.”
“I’d love to come in and visit with you about a very promising idea we’ve come up with. I’ve heard you’re a big fan of charities.”
Yes, I had given a sizable chunk of money to the local women’s shelter—money which had come from the sale of the Penumbra Ruby. But how in the world would Mr. Keys know that information and where to find me? Well, Greely did know Dedra, and so the grapevine must have been given another shot of Miracle-Gro. But wouldn’t business and charity matters be handled over the phone? “What you’re saying is somewhat true,” I finally admitted.
“What I have to offer might just give you a chance to double your efforts.” Mr. Keys smoothed his pricey overcoat.
I saw Greely’s little eyeballs darting back and forth, and I knew he’d been at home conniving ways to get back into Volstead Manor. To interview me for his magazine. I wasn’t going to be sucked in by the pretty face he’d brought along to entice me. “Tell you what, I’ll hear you out, but I’d rather you just tell me on the porch. I’m really not trying to be inhospitable, but I’ve already made my position clear, and I’m still in my bathrobe.”
Jason Greely pursed his lips. “I think you’ll—”
“Now, now, Jason.” Mr. Keys put his hand in the reporter’s face and then turned his attention toward me. “That’s fine. I’ll make it brief.”
I crossed my arms, trying to look unwavering, but I probably wasn’t too convincing, with my raccoon eyes and my hair in space-invader mode. “What is your plan?”
“Well, we are proposing a trade that will be a win/win situation. Our twenty-fifth anniversary as a station is coming up in six months, and one of the ways we’d like to celebrate is to raffle off tours of your house at five hundred dollars a ticket. I already know there would be significant interest. We’re thinking along the lines of raising about thirty thousand dollars, and of course, the money is for charity. Your favorite charity.”
“Okay.” That was an interesting plan. “And what do you get exactly, except for the buzz it might create?”
Mr. Keys smiled. “I get to have you on my show, and Jason here gets an interview for his magazine. How does that sound?”
That weasel of a reporter had found an inroad into my psyche. He knew I’d never be able to deny those women food and shelter. “All right, but I have a few conditions.”
Mr. Keys nodded. “All right.”
“There was a fire at Volstead Manor. There was no damage to the cellar or the passageway in the bedroom, which are the two most important places visitors would want to see. But I’ll still need time to get my house back in order after the fire. And I’ve given another TV station permission to do a short documentary surrounding my house. But I don’t see that as an interference, unless you do.”
“I do not.” Mr. Keys cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear about the fire, but all your terms sound reasonable to me. Is that all?”
“That’s the bulk of it, but I’m only working with you, Mr. Keys. Not Mr. Greely.”
Fire flashed in Jason Greely’s eyes. “The deal is together or nothing.”
Mr. Keys held up his hand again. “Now let’s not be too hasty. Maybe we should hear what Ms. Walker has to say. I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”
“I have a policy to only work with gentlemen, and I’ve found Mr. Greely not to be one in manner or speech.” Wow, that sounded convincing.
“Is that true, Jason?” Mr. Keys didn’t look all that shocked.
“I was afraid I’d lose my job.” Jason jutted his chin high enough to set drinks on.
Mr. Keys reared back. “There is no excuse to ill-treat a lady.”
There was a pause, perhaps for an apology, but none came.
I looked directly at Jason. “And do you still have your job?”
“I do, but with your help today, I’m hoping—”
“Hope is gone, my friend.” Mr. Keys shook his head. “You heard the lady.”
Jason pointed his finger in Langstom’s face. “I told you about Walker. I gave you this lead. You’ll regret this, Keys.” Bits of spit gathered around the corners of Jason’s mouth.
Guess he wasn’t going down without a fight. “Mr. Keys, please have your attorney draw up a contract, and I’ll sign it.”
“Thank you.” Ignoring Jason, Mr. Keys pulled a card out of his coat pocket. “I’ll leave my card on the table out here. It was a great pleasure to meet you, Ms. Walker. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you. Good-bye.”
I could see the volcano that had become Jason Greely. He was about to blow. The poor guy couldn’t seem to get a handle on “no.”
“This will not stand,” Jason said. “Both of you have harmed me egregiously, and I won’t—”
Mr. Keys took Jason by the collar of his T-shirt, even though he was the less bulky of the two, and physically encouraged him down the steps. I noticed the logo on the back of Jason’s T-shirt. The emblem was enhanced with orange sparks and red flames and seemed to be promoting some hard rock band called Knight Torch, a band I knew nothing about. But I thought it might be enlightening to look them up online. Especially since the look in Jason’s eyes was one of vengeance.
I went back inside, thinking about how that was an encounter of the strangest kind and plopped down in Dedra’s study. Within seconds I was browsing along and clicking to my heart’s desire. There it was. Knight Torch. An article mentioned that it was a hard metal band that enjoyed cult-like popularity. Blah, blah, blah. Let’s see. Knight Torch featured antiestablishment-style lyrics. So, what else was new? But surely Jason was too old for such juvenile foolishness. Then again. Farther down, the article announced that the band’s most popular song was entitled “Pyromaniacs.” In fact, the piece went on to say that some fans had become so obsessed with the lyrics that a few had started neighborhood fires. The fans claimed their actions were a form of homage to the music. Wow, I think I hit the mother lode.
Okay, so far half the neighborhood looked guilty of arson, but my Knight Torch clue needed to be pinned to the bulletin board. It was a biggie. Not to mention that Jason had threatened me on a previous occasion. He was looking as guilty as the count and Zola Fowler. Perhaps more so. In fact, I’d like to see him playing a little jailhouse rock! But what could I do? How could I trap the likes of Jason Greely?
I leaned back in my chair and wondered how Dedra could befriend a Knight Torch dude like Jason. He was awful. But then Dedra had a heart as big as Texas. She was always taking in little birds as well as homeless women off the street. But sometimes, she also lacked discernment. Could she make friends with a maniac unknowingly?
I sighed. When I’d buried my great grandfather Radburn, I’d hoped that it had put an end to all things dark with Volstead Manor. Someone was still out there who had a bone to pick. I could feel it.
Suddenly I realized the house was too quiet. Was Dedra still in bed? Something told me to check on her. Especially since the previous night had been so emotionally charged. Maybe she’d had a chance to think and pray about her future marital decision.
I didn’t bother checking the first floor, but went right upstairs and tiptoed into her bedroom. She wasn’t there. “Dedra?” I didn’t scream. No sense in being crazy about it. She’d probably left early to teach an art class or buy some groceries.
Her bed was made neatly, and a folded sheet of gray paper sat on her pillow. I snatched it up, frightened that she might have taken her life. It read:
Dearest Bailey,
How can I thank you enough for letting me see what was right and true?
I do love Adam, and since he wants to cherish me for a lifetime, I’ve
decided to let him. We eloped this morning. By the time you read this,
we’ll be married. We will be back Saturday at 1:30, and then we’ll have
everyone over for a celebration!
Love from Dedra,
And love from Adam too, who is right by my side as I write this note.
And then she added a little smiley face at the bottom.
30 – Ten Tons of Human Angst
I was deeply relieved and profoundly grateful that Dedra’s words weren’t what I thought they were—a suicide note. But I wilted onto the bed just the same. “Dedra, what have you done? Or I should say, what have I done?”
The note twirled to the floor. I did this? This was my fault, my doing. I manipulated her into marrying Adam. It had come from my own selfish motives. What if Adam wasn’t the right one?
I shook my head. Whatever was right or wrong, it was too late now.
Oh, God, can I pray in retro? Is there such a thing? I pray that somehow this is the right thing. Please give them joy and love together all the days of their lives. Boy, that prayer must have weighed in pretty heavily up in heaven. Ten tons of human angst.
