Who Page 11

  Peri stood in the doorway and watched as Tisbe finagled both the bedroom key and the tray of milk. It took a bit of maneuvering, but in a moment, she shuffled into her room. The lawyer peered at her cup and frowned, closing the door behind her. “Ugh,” she thought. “A perfectly good cup of whiskey ruined by milk,” she muttered under her breath and immediately poured it into the potted plant.

  ***

  It was past nine o’clock when Tamaya woke up. Salisbury was standing over her bed with a pot of tea. “Madame, I believe we have a problem,” he announced. He set the tea service on the bureau and gently fluffed her pillows as she sat up.

  “Thank you, Salisbury.” He handed her the teacup and waited as she took a sip. “Now, what is this about a problem. It’s not the onions again, I hope.”

  “No, Madame, we are in ample supply of root vegetables. It is Miss Tisbe. It appears that Miss Cason has been knocking on her door, and she doesn’t answer.”

  “Perhaps the woman is asleep,” replied Tamaya, airing annoyance by the early morning’s announcement.

  “That’s what I said, but Miss Cason bleated something about a potted plant. She is quite upset with the Schefflera; it seems that overnight it has wilted.” Tamaya said nothing and signaled for another bit of her tea. Salisbury filled the cup and stared at her indifferently as she lingered over her second cup.

  “Have the rest of the guests had their breakfasts?” the hostess asked, offering back the empty teacup.

  “Yes, Madame. Presently, Mrs. Hildebrandt and Mr. Wolfe have settled in the library and are arguing over a game of chess. It’s just Miss Cason that seems to be more than a bit out of sorts.”

  “Please tell her that I will be down shortly, and we will get her another plant. I believe one of the palms from the veranda will do.”

  “Certainly, Madame, a potted palm from the veranda, up the stairs, and down the hall into Miss Cason’s chamber,” he said with an unsettling voice.

  “Don’t bother!” exclaimed Peri Cason at the open door.

  “Why we were just talking about you, you must have a sixth sense.” Tamaya Rosebud waved her hand, feverishly gesturing for her friend to enter.

  “For crying out loud, Tamaya! I don’t give a damn about getting another plant. But I am worried about Tisbe. She won’t answer her door.”

  “Maybe she’s sleeping or took a sleeping pill. You know how they affect some people,” the hostess said, dismissing any notion of trouble.

  “No, no, I think there’s a problem. And if you don’t mind, I believe we should immediately break down the door.”

  “Break down the door, Madame?” remarked the butler, believing his contribution to the conversation was now quite necessary.

  “Yes, Salisbury,” demanded Peri, “break down the damn door.”

  “Wouldn’t it just be better to use a key?” he asked, and placing his hand into his pocket, removed a small ring of brass keys.

  “I agree, Peri, I believe breaking down a perfectly intact oak door would be a bit extreme,” the hostess nodded, and then with a flick of her wrist, motioned for Salisbury to go and unlock the door. “But be sure to knock first!” she called.

  “Naturally, Madame,” he answered.

  But determined to get to the bottom of things, Peri disregarded her friend and followed behind Salisbury while he rapped ever so gently on the locked door. After a moment’s silence, he shrugged his shoulders and tried again. Still, there was no response, at which point he tired several of the keys until he found what he believed to be the correct one. However, to his dismay, the lock resisted. He shimmied the latch, but it remained steadfast. He wiped the key against his shirtsleeve and placed it back into the lock. “It certainly is not being cooperative,” he lamented.

  “Here, let me try,” clamored the impatient woman, and pushing the houseman aside, she wiggled the key and the knob at the same time. The tumblers rattled, and at last, the door released its hold. But it was Salisbury who entered first and Salisbury that first discovered the old sister in bed. Tiptoeing lightly, he stood over the bed, reached forward, and gently shook the barefoot. He waited for a moment and then shook more vigorously. “Miss Tisbe, can you hear me?” he asked in a bold voice, and with a deadpan tone, declared, “I believe she’s dead.”

  “Dead?” screamed Peri Cason, running from the room. “Oh, my Lord, she’s dead!”

  “Who’s dead!” screamed Goldie from downstairs.

  “Tisbe, she’s dead!” cried the lawyer, now charging down the stairs. “Someone poisoned her, someone killed Tisbe, and they tried to kill me too!”

  “What, Tisbe, poisoned?” exclaimed Mr. Wolfe getting up from the chessboard.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Wolfe? We’re not finished, and I’m just about to take your queen!” grumbled Goldie.

  “Be right back, and don’t cheat!” he said, and as he hurried out of the library, he met Tamaya Rosebud coming down the stairs.

  “It’s Peri; she appears to be quite upset. Something about a plant,” the hostess explained, lifting her white cane in the direction of the dining room. Wolfe followed the neck of the stick, leading him to the threshold. However, as he stepped through, he sensed something was not right. The silhouette of a woman aiming a gun appeared from behind the drapes.

  “Don’t come any closer, Wolfe. I’ll shoot if I have to.”

  “Where’d you get that thing?” he asked, trying to remain undaunted by the firearm.

  “From the tureen, the soup tureen, and I’m not afraid to use it. Just step away, Wolfe.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Cason?” Hoping she’d put the gun down, he slowly walked towards her with open hands.

  “Not a damn thing, I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me. Just move, move the hell away and open the front door.” Pointing with the pistol, she directed him to step forward. He followed her command, and warily made his way into the foyer.

  “Where are you going, Peri?” Tamaya asked. “You haven’t had your coffee. Come, Dear, let’s go into the kitchen and have Salisbury fix us some.”

  “You’re batty!” Peri announced. “You’re out of your mind, Tamaya! I’m not going to stay another minute in this nuthouse. Unbolt the door, Wolfe!” Fresh air and sunlight rolled in as he pulled open the front door.

  “Oh my, look, everyone, the sun, now isn’t that nice!” declared Ms. Rosebud leaning against her cane. “You know, we can have our breakfast on the veranda, Dear!” she called out. But the distraught lawyer did not answer her. Peri Cason scrambled out of the house and down the driveway, still with gun in hand. Looking ahead past the trees, she fled as fast as her legs would carry her, and though not built for speed, she was making excellent progress despite her limitations.

  ***

  Peri Cason arrived at the Drunken Mermaid breathless and shaken. The usual cluster of patrons was enjoying the day. Mr. Lee sat at the end of the bar, concealed by the exotic dragon head when the lawyer entered. She arrived without fanfare; however, her presence aroused the entire tavern. It was the gun, and without thinking, she flung open the door with the pistol by her side. Such a sight is often not well-received. “Let me have a gin and tonic,” she said and hoisted herself up on the stool. She was tired and without care to her surroundings; she released a staccato of indiscernible mumbles.

  The barkeep gestured to Mr. Lee, who slid snakelike to the back of the tavern, where he whispered a few words to the two men sitting at a table. And then he slithered back to watch the woman. “House label, okay?” the bartender asked. Peri nodded and placed her head on the bar, resting it against the hand still holding the gun. The bartender made no moves and kept his eyes on the woman as he squeezed lime into her drink. He tried not to appear nervous and placed the glass on a napkin. Peri lifted her head, and with her left hand, reached for the drink when suddenly she felt the breath of someone leaning over her.<
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  “I don’t know who you are, lady, but you better have a damn good reason for bringing that gun in here.” His voice trudged calmly from his mouth to her ears. Slowly she twisted her neck and fixed her eyes on a black wire mustache and a head covered in grey hair half-hidden beneath a wool cap. His words resonated in her mind. She was thirsty and tired and frightened, a deadly combination for a woman with a weapon. “Where you from, lady?” the man asked.

  “That’s curious,” she thought. “He didn’t ask for my name.” She sat up, her right hand still on the pistol, and raising the left one, took a sip of her drink. “I was a guest at the Rosebud house. But there’s been trouble there.”

  “Trouble?” pressed the man soliciting information. “What kind of trouble?” He towered over her, keeping an eye on the pistol as he spoke.

  “Bad trouble,” she repeated. She didn’t court trouble, but in that instant, something in her head popped. An invisible lattice of distrust was conjuring up fear. Her lips hung apart, quivering as she put forth a lifeless whine. “Murder, there have been several murders,” she revealed.

  Mr. Lee’s ears perked up as he moved from his barstool to an earshot of the conversation. He focused on the woman, not the gun, and wondered if she could be trusted.

  “What do you mean murder?” the man asked more emphatically.

  To be confronted by such a question was not unreasonable; however, it was its harsh delivery that sparked the frightened lawyer’s agitation, and she glared at him with the look of a scared animal. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Trigg, Mort Trigg. I’m the sheriff.”

  A calm fell over the woman as she suddenly became revived like a drooping lily takes to water. “Sheriff?” She relaxed and then took another sip. “Well, Sheriff Rigg…”

  “Trigg, with a T,” he corrected.

  “Well, Trigg, I’m Peri Cason, and I’m going to tell you there are quite a few dead bodies at that house.”

  The lawman watched as the woman finished her drink, and covertly slid the gun to her lap. But however innocent a move it was, it was not taken as such by the Sheriff. And thinking that his life was in jeopardy, he reached for her weapon. “No,” screamed the woman, “no!”

  And as he tried to seize it, Mr. Lee jumped up from his stool and yelled, “Take that evil woman!” Dismissing any idea of innocence, the fortune teller shoved Cason from behind, throwing her off balance. A shot was fired, and in a matter of seconds, Peri Cason lay between the feet of both men.

  Blood trickled on the floor as the Sheriff kicked the fired weapon away with his foot. “Hell of a stupid way to go, getting shot by your own gun.” He knelt over the woman and turned his eyes upward. “You saved my ass, Lee,” he said to the patron. “Saved my mangy ass.”

  Chapter 13

  “Finally, a lovely day. Too bad the others couldn’t be around to enjoy the sun,” Tamaya announced, feeling distinctly at ease. The grey clouds had slipped past, and like yards of unfurled canvas, the sky was blue again. Favorable weather extinguished all ill feelings, and as the remaining guests sat on the veranda, Salisbury passed around a tray of deviled eggs and tea sandwiches.

  “That Trigg isn’t so bad for a Sheriff,” Goldie remarked.

  “Monte; he’s always been a good friend.” Tamaya’s faraway look needed further investigation.

  “Not a bad guy, is that code?” Goldie hinted. “Cause in my book, sister; he’s more than ‘a good guy’ kind of relationship.” She hoped she had provoked the hostess into confessing some juicy tidbits.

  Tamaya smiled but wouldn’t take the bait and decided not to enter into a discussion about her past. “He’s a friend, just a good friend,” she continued.

  “Well, friend or not, the fact that he didn’t bother us with a lot of snooping around makes him a first-rate guy. The last thing I need is a cop on my tail,” Wolfe said, inserting his two cents into the conversation. He was more than happy; he was relieved.

  “Too bad for Peri, taking the entire wrap,” Tamaya lamented. “Such a shame.”

  “What wrap? The cops thought she was a crazy broad with crazy ideas, not too farfetched if you ask me. The only one we needed to corroborate was Harold. But, since the police decided to list him as missing, it all ended up just the way it should, with us in the clear. I still think your friend Trigg thinks Peri killed him.” Goldie leaned back in her chaise lounge and sucked her lemonade through a straw.

  “You know, Madame, you still haven’t found out who the killer is.” Salisbury liked to stir up things, and today was no different.

  “As usual, you’re right, Salisbury,” Tamaya sighed. “I suppose before you two leave, we need to find out.” Her eyes met her guests with mixed emotions.

  Goldie shaded her hand across her brow. She sat up in the lounge and slurped her drink until nothing more could be drained from the glass. “Nervous?” Wolfe whispered and grinned.

  “No, I’m not nervous, are you?” she said, trying to antagonize him with her acid tone. He winked and then leaned back in his chaise.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you and Wolfe had conspired together,” Tamaya said with a suggestive laugh.

  “And what about you and old Salisbury here, he seems more than your houseman,” Goldie added. This time it was Ms. Rosebud who winked.

  “We could just blame it all on Miss Peri and get on with our lives,” Salisbury suggested. He felt emboldened and decided to join in the discussion. After all, if anyone accused him, he had a right to defend himself.

  There was a thoughtful pause, but a unanimous agreement that such a verdict would leave everyone quite unsatisfied. No, they decided. It was imperative to arrive at a resolution, or it would be like a cheap ending to a great book. And no one enjoys that kind of conclusion.

  “Now that they’re gone, we need to utilize what’s left of our time together. I certainly will not be returning,” Wolfe admitted.

  “Me neither, as soon as I get back to my nice quiet cottage I’m staying put for a long time,” Goldie said. “I’ve had enough fun for a while.”

  A flock of sparrows flew overhead, forming a shadow. They circled the sky and settled on the hillside to feed on the turned-up insects the storm had disturbed. No one seemed to be in a hurry to talk, so they watched the birds until a sudden gust sent them airborne again.

  “Well, we can’t just sit here as if nothing happened,” announced Goldie. “I say we make a pact. Whatever we say between us can never be revealed to anyone. If one of us goes down, we all go down.”

  The scheme was hard to dispute, stifling any reluctance to band together. Ms. Rosebud laughed richly, sanctioning the idea with a resounding, “Splendid!”

  “Good, then let’s drink on it,” Goldie asserted. “We’ll take an oath of allegiance that can’t be broken.”

  “So melodramatic,” complained Wolfe. “As far as I’m concerned, a handshake is more than sufficient.” However, they ignored his gripe and took an oath of secrecy, followed by a customary stiff shot of whiskey. After which, it was declared binding.

  “We’ll begin with Ray,” Goldie decided. “Fess up, who killed him?”

  “Certainly not I,” Salisbury exclaimed. “I found the little man quite annoying, but not enough to take his life.”

  “Nope, not me,” said Wolfe. “Knew him back in the old days, and he never did any harm to me.”

  “I found him quite amusing, in a crude sort of way,” Tamaya said. “And as for his story, well, he certainly was tricked by that Miller and the daughter. He had a difficult time of it. I rather felt sorry for him, too trusting.” All eyes turned to Goldie.

  “What, what are you staring at?” she asked with a poker face. “Why would I hurt Ray, we were good friends.” But the more they stared, the harder it was to keep a straight face. “Okay, I admit it. But he was going to ruin everything. He wanted to take the de
al, and if that happened, I’d lose everything. I’m a single woman on a pension, and the book is my only other means of income. If he had gone along with us, nothing would have happened.”

  “So, you killed him?” Tamaya asked.

  “Well, if you put it like that, it was a sort of accident. No, maybe more of a dare. He was stupid enough to let me put the ascot around his neck.”

  “My ascot!” snarled Wolfe.

  “Well, I certainly couldn’t use my sash.”

  “Lord, Goldie, I’ll never be able to wear that red ascot again!” Wolfe complained.

  “Okay, now that you know, what about Javotte? That’s one bitch I didn’t touch,” Goldie swore. “Didn’t like her but didn’t lay a hand on her.”

  “I wouldn’t have hurt her either,” Wolfe announced. “I didn’t like the idea that she wanted to take the deal, but no, it wasn’t me.”

  “Pass,” said Salisbury. “I liked her. She was very complimentary about my cooking and a great help in the kitchen.”

  “So are we to conclude that aside from Goldie, there was another killer in our midst?” Tamaya asked with surprise.

  “Yeah, and if I were going to offer my calculations, and I am usually right, I’d say it was you, Ms. Rosebud!” Goldie shouted.

  “Me? What motive would I have to take the life of that dear, simple woman.”

  “Because you’re sweet on Mr. Jay, that’s why,” announced the houseman.

  “Salisbury! Such an accusation,” the hostess clamored and placing her hand over her mouth, she feigned disappointment.

  “So sorry, Madame, but I see the way you look at him,” Salisbury jested.

  “Ohhhh,” exclaimed Wolfe. “That makes sense; you were jealous!”

  “Jealous enough to poison Jay, too?” asked Goldie.

  “Heavens, no. He just happened not to be able to tolerate strawberries. That was none of my doing.”

  “Okay, spill!” Goldie said and sipped her freshened glass of whiskey with extra enjoyment. “This I gotta hear.”