Who Page 3

  “We’ve been expecting you,” declared a voice from the inner sanctions of the house. Salisbury nodded and taking the cue, allowed the small fellow to enter. “I hope you’re hungry because breakfast is ready,” called Ms. Rosebud as Mr. Stiltskin followed the overture into the dining room. “Why don’t you take a seat beside our newest guests,” pointed the hostess. “You can sit between Javotte and Tisbe.” The two women, not much older than Mr. Stiltskin, looked fatigued, for they had taken an earlier train, which, in their opinion, took longer than necessary. The two women, both quite ordinary in appearance, could only be sisters since not only did they have a strong family resemblance, but their mannerisms were strikingly similar. The little man took his seat and surrendered his hat to the houseman, who was quite pleased to remove the dusty article from the dining room. “I am so pleased you could all could join me. The other guests are out in the garden, and anytime now, the last of the latecomers will arrive.”

  “It is so hard to get everyone together these days,” chimed in Tisbe. “Mother was so good at getting parties together, rest her soul.”

  “That she was,” remarked Javotte.

  Salisbury glided around the table and refreshed the empty cups with tea. “What may I get for you, Mr. Stiltskin?”

  “Coffee, black and three lumps of sugar,” he grinned and exposed several missing teeth, of which he was not the least bit self-conscious.

  “Stiltskin, Stiltskin, the name is so familiar,” mused Javotte.

  “Call me, Ray; we should be on a first-name basis.”

  The two women giggled and nodded in unison. “And you can call us by our first names too,” explained Javotte. “That’s Tisbe, and I’m Javotte.”

  “We’re sisters,” they said with one voice.

  However, Ray was too busy dunking his toast into his coffee and slurping his oatmeal to pay any attention to the small talk, which Ms. Rosebud took as an opportunity to draw the two ladies’ focus away from the uncouth little man.

  ***

  Mr. Wolfe entered the dining room, wearing an expression of boredom. Mrs. Hildebrandt and Norman flanked him. They had taken a leisurely walk around the grounds and were ready for a second cup of coffee. The two sisters retired to the library, which left the hostess, and Mr. Stiltskin still seated at the table. But before any formal introductions, the small man jumped to his feet and offered an extended hand to the incoming guests. “Damn it, if this isn’t the reunion of the century,” he cried. “Goldie, you don’t look a bit over…”

  “Don’t say it, Ray,” she snickered and grabbing the man around his neck, they embraced. “My, you are the same scoundrel, aren’t you?”

  “That I am Goldie. So, I guess we’re all here for the same reason,” he hinted and turned to Ms. Rosebud with a glimmer of satisfaction.

  “Still doing magic tricks?” Norman asked.

  “Hell no, haven’t done one since the fiasco with the gold bullion,” sputtered Ray. “Got me into too damn much trouble. I barely got out with the shirt on my back. By the time I paid off the lawyer bills, I didn’t have two nickels to rub together.” Mr. Wolfe nodded with understanding.

  Ms. Rosebud, ignoring the lamentations of lost time, was the only one to notice the rain. Unlike the warm and sunny day, she hoped for, her plan of serving lunch on the veranda was spoiled. She continued to debate with herself as to where they should dine when she was happily interrupted by the presence of her confidant and lawyer friend from Tilddler and Associates, Dr. Peri Cason. Trailing behind her was a neatly dressed gentleman sporting an out-of-fashion copper beard tapered to a point. “My dear old souls, you have arrived!” the hostess announced.

  “I’m not sure if I should take that as a term of endearment or not,” rebuked Dr. Cason. “Aside from my greying hair, I don’t feel the least bit old.

  “Nor I,” agreed the dapper man.

  “Tell me, how was your trip?”

  “Too damn wet for my taste,” quibbled the lawyer.

  “And you, Mr. Dover?”

  “Enjoyed the boat ride across the sound. Couldn’t have been more invigorating.”

  Ms. Rosebud politely smiled as she sized up his seemingly sarcastic answer. The others, except for the two sisters, stood idly as informal introductions were exchanged. Harold Dover was the agent on behalf of the Babbitt Publishing Company, and Peri Cason was an attorney and forensic specialist. The hostess was basking in the delight that everything was going along so warmly until someone brought up the weather. As if a raincloud formed overhead, the mood suddenly turned glum.

  “It’s positively depressing,” remarked one of the spinsters.

  “Yes,” nodded Goldie. “Lousy, just lousy!”

  To look at the hostess, it was apparent she was disheartened, so, in the suddenly cramped quarters of this circle of guests, she did what any good hostess would do, suggest they join her in the library to play cards, checkers, or chess. At one o’clock, a buffet would be provided in the dining room, and with any luck, the sun would be shining, and they could all retreat to the veranda.

  ***

  But it wasn’t, and the only thing that arrived by way of the veranda for lunch was Mr. Jay wearing a yellow oilskin rain jacket and matching overalls. “Salisbury, get him a towel,” cried the hostess. “My word, what brings you here in this dreadful weather!” she asked, as the rain-drenched sailor dripped water on her wood floors. “Take that thing off and come get yourself a cup of tea!” she insisted. “You don’t want to catch a cold!”

  “Brandy would be better suited for this occasion,” said Javotte looking curiously at the man as if she had never seen anyone disrobe. However, to her relief, or perhaps her disappointment, he was fully dressed beneath his raingear.

  “I came to let you know that if anyone is thinking of leaving anytime soon, don’t. The last ferry arrived with them two,” he said, pointing to Dover and Cason. “The sound’s kicking up, and now the boat engine’s flooded. It’ll take a few days to dry out.” He wiped his face with the towel and tossed it back to the houseman who, in turn, threw it down in the puddle. “I hope you’ve got enough supplies,” Jay said, emphasizing the conditions.

  “How did you manage to get up the driveway?” exclaimed Ms. Rosebud ignoring his chatter.

  “Pushed my bike, but the rain’s coming down pretty hard and fast. I got my son, Reggie, tending to the lighthouse. If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait a bit. My bicycle’s parked under the overhang.”

  “Of course not, Mr. Jay. If you wish, join us in the library for a hand of bridge,” the hostess suggested. “You do play bridge, I hope.” With a half-smile that could have been interpreted as disgust, she led him to the library.

  Salisbury looked at the floor and then glanced over his shoulder. His outlook on the day hadn’t included mopping. The towel would take care of the wet floor, but as what to do with the man’s raingear, that was a nuisance question. A soggy pile of yellow oilcloth was waiting for him and him alone. “Well, he won’t need them for a while,” the finicky butler muttered. And with his foot, he slid the pile across the floor, opened the door, and with a good kick, booted the whole mess out.

  ***

  “Ever been in jail?” Norman asked. He pushed his red checker forward and took the little man’s piece.

  The elder made a scowl and put his hand on his chin as if in contemplation. “Nope, just the drunk tank. No cot, no chair, just a bench, and a toilet. I had a cell to myself a few times. Once, they gave me a blanket and pillow. I think they felt sorry for me since it was Christmas.” His hand hovered over his piece, and then he pulled it back.

  Norman nodded but had no sympathy for his opponent’s frivolous tales of woe. He’d heard everything before, and the only conversation he was interested in was what he could get out of this weekend. “So, how’d you avoid doing time?”

  Ray leaned back in his chair and winked
, “I turned state’s evidence,” he said. “Of course, it cost me plenty, everything I had stashed away, and my reputation…shot. I suppose it was worth it, but sometimes I wonder.”

  “You must have had a great lawyer.”

  “Lawyers,” he said with correction. “A whole damn office full of em’ that are now living off my money!” His face grimaced when he spoke. He leaned forward and whispered, “I’m a bit leery of that Cason woman, hope she’s on the up and up.”

  Norman got a whiff of the old man’s breath when he spoke and wondered if the scoundrel had raided the liquor cabinet. A bit early for a drink, but who was he to pass judgment. “States evidence?” the giant questioned, ignoring the statement about the lawyer who was at another table playing bridge.

  “Somewhat of a stretch, but it stuck. I turned the table on the miller; he concocted a story that I was trying to swindle them. Now, what the hell would I want with a baby? I wasn’t about to take the whole rap myself. He and that whimpering daughter could have walked away Scott free if I hadn’t had enough sense to hire a private detective. Amazing what money can buy.”

  “Damn lucky break,” agreed Norman. “Damn lucky.”

  “You said it!”

  “Mind if I sit in and watch?” The woman grinned crookedly and, for the first time, noticed a scar on Norman’s face. It wasn’t big, but a ragged line that lay quietly across his brow. She pulled the chair and sat down with her hands folded on her lap.

  “Looks like your sister is busy,” Ray said, turning Tisbe’s attention to the lighthouse keeper and Javotte engaged in a game of scrabble with Goldie. “Two’s company,” he laughed.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean!” scoffed the sister.

  “Lay off,” exclaimed Norman. It was apparent that Ray was enjoying his role as instigator. However, it may have been too late for Tisbe had already become aware of her sister’s interest in the seaman.

  “I didn’t say anything!” defended Mr. Stiltskin. “Besides, aren’t we all here for a little fun?”

  “Personally, I am not here for entertainment. Who’s winning?”

  “Nobody yet,” Norman explained. “You can play winners if you like.”

  “I could, but I can’t. I don’t know how to play.”

  “Too bad,” Ray added. “Well, you sit there like a good girl and just watch.”

  Tisbe had little patience for the game, and while the two men quibbled over who moved what piece, she excused herself and wandered into the kitchen where Salisbury was preparing cucumber sandwiches.

  “When Ms. Rosebud asked me to help this weekend, I didn’t know I would be serving all day long!” he grumbled. “Never seen so many plates of food in such a short amount of time.”

  “Evidently, you’re not accustomed to entertaining,” the aggravated sister said. The gangly women reached over and pulled a red smock off the peg.

  “Not for a crowd of this size,” he complained. “I haven’t been off my feet since the first guest arrived.”

  “That would have been Wolfe,” Tisbe remarked and tied the sash. She rolled up her white shirtsleeves and brushed the front of her apron. “Now, may I help you with some of the preparations. I really would rather be in here than out there,” she scoffed. Then realizing her faux pas began to explain. “You see, I hate to see my sister make a fool of herself.”

  “Fool, Madam?” inquired the houseman, who tried not to show his enthusiasm for gossip.

  “It appears that my sister, Javotte, has taken to that old seaman.”

  “Mr. Jay? Oh, pray tell me, what makes you think so?”

  “A woman can tell. She nearly fell over her own feet when he helped her off the boat yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if he planned this whole thing.”

  “Planned, planned what?” Salisbury asked, handing her a cucumber to slice.

  “Planned to seduce her!” she exclaimed, and with several whacks, she split the cucumber into two large chunks. “Yes, I imagine the old sea dog must know about our inheritance,” she muttered.

  “Inheritance?” the interested cook reiterated.

  “Mother left us each a bit of money, that is after having to pay compensation to our stepsister. It would have been a fortune, but…”

  “But?”

  “Well, everyone knows the tale. It was all a huge misunderstanding. However, the jury didn’t think so.” Tisbe’s tone had turned more remorseful than angry, and suddenly, she began to weep.

  “Dear, dear, please, don’t cry, why you’ll get the sandwiches all wet. Why don’t you go upstairs until you feel better? When you return, you can help me cut up the strawberries.” He patted her gently on the shoulder and watched as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “You’re an awfully nice houseman, Salisbury,” she sniffled, handing him back her apron. “I think you’re very nice. I’ll be back right back.”

  “Thank you, Madam,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

  Chapter 4

  “What’s the matter?” It was Dr. Cason, who first noticed the visible change in Wolfe’s demeanor after the telephone call with his wife.

  “My royalty check didn’t clear,” he gripped. “I don’t suppose you know anything about it?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about?” answered Cason picking through her hand of cards as if it were a bouquet.

  “Come and sit back down and let’s finish our game,” replied the hostess, trying to ease the tension. “I believe it’s your turn to bid, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “No, it’s mine,” reminded the lawyer.

  Wolfe stood behind Mr. Dover, his hot breath falling over the seated man. “I hope you aren’t peeking,” said the player. “Although it wouldn’t matter since we are partners.”

  “If I weren’t in mixed company, I’d…”

  “You’d what? Do the same thing to me as you did to that poor old woman?” taunted the agent.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about; they never found the body!” Wolfe moved around the table, almost ghost-like.

  “That’s right,” Dover answered coolly. He straightened up in his chair; he was enjoying himself.

  “Don’t take that crap from him, Wolfie!” provoked Goldie, the busybody, from across the room.

  A shifting mood of hostility pierced the room, followed by, “Lunch is ready!” In the glow of the chandelier’s light, those seated at the game tables rose to their feet. Wolfe extended a harsh look towards the instigator, who appeared not the least bit troubled, having declared to himself as the victor in round one. Fate looked out over the room like a mounted deer head over the mantel. Without much more banter than Ray’s outrageous belch, everyone filed into the dining room where a buffet lunch was set out. Tisbe stood by the sideboard, fixed on Mr. Jay, who was standing behind her sister, making what appeared to be friendly advances. Tisbe’s eyes widened as she watched Javotte giggle, undaunted by the man’s shameless flirtation. Tisbe felt her cheeks flush and reluctantly turned away. A platter of deviled eggs suddenly resembled yellow eyeballs. She tried to scoop one up with the spoon, but she was too nervous, and they slipped around the plate-like fish. Her eyes burned cold as she tried to appear nonchalant, and sauntered eggless back into the library with the others. Only Ms. Rosebud waited for Salisbury to serve her.

  “I believe these strawberries are worthy of an award!” exclaimed Goldie. “Everything is delicious and very dainty.”

  “Yes, dainty,” muttered Norman picking up a crustless sandwich. “What is this?”

  “Cucumber sandwich,” Dover said. “Very good for the digestion too.”

  “I think I will take that drink now, Salisbury,” said Mr. Wolfe gloomily.

  “Of course, Sir. On the rocks.”

  The room was considerably quiet except for the slurping and finger sucking of Mr. Stiltskin
. Ms. Rosebud sat with her plate of tea sandwiches on her lap while Dr. Cason attempted to console her that the day was not in ruins. A persistent pattering of raindrops fell against the panes crafting an even more somber mood.

  “Look Wolfe; I think we got off on the wrong foot. I have a bad habit of rubbing people the wrong way.” The agent sat down and offered his hand, but Wolfe’s reluctance was inescapable as the wedge between his brows knit together. “Come on, sport, no hard feelings,” coaxed Mr. Dover. “I think after this escapade is over, you’ll be happy we’ve met.” Wolfe stared him in the eye and ignoring his wife’s advice, smiled widely, and shook the outstretched hand. He eased into the chair and began to pick at his cucumber sandwich as if it were rabbit food. He had met guys like Dover in prison and learned to tolerate them. The whiskey felt good going down his throat, and he was finally beginning to relax. The rain was falling even harder, muffling the light laughter coming from Javotte. She was dangling a strawberry over the sailor’s mouth, and like a fish to bait, he caught it.

  “You see,” whispered Tisbe to the houseman. “She’s shameless! I’m just so happy Mother isn’t here to see her make such a fool of herself!” Salisbury smiled enviously at the old salt while Tisbe’s eyes traveled around the room. No one else appeared to notice the two lovebirds. Everyone had strayed off into their private conversations. The jealous sister set a bowl of fruit on the sideboard and drifted back to the dining room. She was hungry from quarreling with herself. She pouted at how few sandwiches remained and placed the last three on her plate. A bowl of potato salad looked most unappealing; however, to her delight, the hearts of palm and artichokes had barely been touched. Tisbe wandered over to the window with her plate and looked out. A flash of light flickered the shadow of a brown bird. She tapped her fingers against the pane, but the rain was too loud for the bird to hear her. She watched for a moment before taking a bite of her sandwich when a terrified shriek interrupted her tranquility.