5 Murder by Syllabub (20 page)

Hattie’s self-satisfied smile, so familiar from our visit to the Payton Randolph house, was back. “You bank the coals and, when you think the oven is hot enough, you sprinkle flour on the bottom of it. If it burns, it’s too hot. Then you stick your hand in. If you can hold it there until you count to twenty, you need more coals. Recipes usually tell you how long, but that’s for a bigger cake. It’s experience as much as anything. I’ve been doing hearth cooking since I was twelve. My mother taught me and her mother taught her. After you’ve made about a hundred of these, you just know.” Hattie paused to put the hot cake on a trivet. She touched the top, much the way Aunt Mary did, to test a cake was done. She looked thoughtful, and then her lips twitched in what might be a smile. “Come to one of my classes. You’d learn a lot.”

“You don’t cook like this all the time, do you?” I waved my hand around the kitchen, thinking about the Wolf stove in Elizabeth’s house.

“Of course I don’t.” Hattie gestured toward a closed door on the back wall. “That new addition is modern, but it’s important to keep the old ways alive. Colonial Williamsburg does. So do I.”

Hattie seemed more interested in keeping the Culpepper family name alive. I wondered if she’d ever read the Constitution or even knew who Patrick Henry was. However, she turned out great food.

“Do they know who attacked her?” she asked me.

“What? Oh.” I was still on cake, Mildred temporarily forgotten. “I don’t think so
,” I said.

“What happened?” Hattie picked up the kettle, poured a little water into a cup and tested it with her finger. It must have been hot enough because she winced and poured a very small amount in the bottom of the teapot, swirled it around until the bottom of the pot was hot
, then carefully poured it full. “Just off the boil. That makes the best tea. We’ll let that steep, allow the cake to cool a bit and have a nice chat. Pull up that chair. That’s right.”

I thought Hattie was going to show us around the kitchen, explain what the barrels contained, tell us about the strings of herbs hanging from the rafters and go into what furnishings they needed for the kitchen and how to use them. Evidently Aunt Mary did, too, because the look she gave me said she didn’t want to chat. However, we all sat waiting for the tea to steep, like old friends.

Hattie settled herself deeper into her chair. “Now, tell me. What happened last night?”

“I really don’t know.” Aunt Mary’s words were slow, measured.
Hattie clearly intended that we settle in for a good gossip. Aunt Mary didn’t gossip. “Mildred stayed to have dinner with us then walked home. She got as far as the barn when someone attacked her.”

“Do the police know who?”

“If they do, they haven’t told me.”

“No. They wouldn’t, would they?” Hattie paused.
“I suppose Leo McMann is conducting the investigation?”

“He turned up at the hospital last night, but I didn’t see him this morning.” I didn’t add we’d been down in the cellar almost all morning.

“Payton knows Leo McMann real well. Leo’s a lot older, but Payton did some criminal law before he moved over to DC. That’s when they got to be friends.” As if rethinking that last statement, she added, “Not personal friends exactly, the age difference and all, but Leo, he’s always looked up to Payton.”

Aunt Mary made a little choking sound. I tried not to laugh. I’d only seen Payton Culpepper and Lt. McMann together once, but
their exchange had been short on admiration and respect. Animosity and contempt was more like it.

“When Payton heard about Monty, and that Elizabeth was a suspect, well, he was upset. He called Leo to see what was going on, but Leo wouldn’t tell him a thing. Said he could only talk to Elizabeth’s attorney, so for him to call back when that happened. Payton wanted to help Elizabeth, felt he owed it to Monty.” She paused, as if to emp
hasize her point. “They were best friends, you know.”

“No, I didn’t.” All Cora Lee had said was
that they went to school together. I was missing something. How did Payton and Monty being friends years ago translate into him wanting to protect Elizabeth? Or did Hattie have it wrong? Was it something else Payton was after?

Hattie, however, wasn’t letting up on her story. “Payton practically grew up there, and Virginia and I were almost as close as sisters. Such a shock, the way she died.”

I wondered if Aunt Mary was as confused as I was. The cast of characters around here was growing and no one was providing a playbill. “Was Virginia William’s first wife?”

Hattie seemed surprised I hadn’t known that. “She was, and Monty’s mother. If what Monty and Payton suspect is so, she was his only wife.”

“What?” Aunt Mary couldn’t have sounded more indignant. “They don’t believe Elizabeth and William got married?”

“They think they went through a ceremony. They just don’t think it was legal.”

“Why not?” The strands of this conversation were as tangled as a knitting basket full of yarn after the kitten got through with it.

“William’s stroke, of course. Poor man couldn’t walk, could hardly talk. Needed everything done for him. That’s when he changed his will and that’s when he married Elizabeth. Up ’til then, Cora Lee managed everything, and since she can’t inherit, everyone thought the estate would go to Monty. It should have. Then to have him die like that, well, it’s a good thing Payton’s looking into it all.”

“Looking into what? Monty’s death? I don’t understand.”

“Why, he’s taking care of Elizabeth. Monty would have wanted him to. He got her an attorney.”

“Why?”

Aunt Mary’s question was a good on
e. Why, indeed, would Monty care about Elizabeth? He’d been trying to rob her blind for months.

“Payton’s not a trial lawyer
,” Hattie said, as if that explained everything.

“I know that,” Aunt Mary snapped.

Frustration was getting the better of her. She needed to back off a little so I quickly got in the next question. “I thought Monty was going after Smithwood. Was Payton helping him?”

“Payton wasn’t going to sue Elizabeth over the title to the plantation or anything like that. He likes her. He was just helping Monty. You know, Monty had rights, too.”

Maybe so, but I didn’t think they included Smithwood and I still had no idea why Payton injected himself into Elizabeth’s dilemma. It was plain Hattie didn’t either. Time to change the subject. “Are you planning on helping Elizabeth set up the school?”

“Do you think Elizabeth poisoned Monty?”
Hattie asked.

So much for subject changing.

“Elizabeth didn’t kill anyone.” The tone in Aunt Mary’s voice plainly said the subject was closed.

Hattie studied Aunt Mary for a moment, speculation in her eyes, then smiled that tiny smile.
Walking over to the sideboard, she lifted the top off the teapot, placed a tiny strainer over one delicate china cup and poured. Nodding her approval, she filled two cups. She placed each on a saucer, then cut two slices of the cake, which she laid on small bone china plates of another pattern. She carried the cake to the table and set a plate in front of each of us. “I’ll get your tea and bring a fork and napkin.”

“Let me help you.” I was already out of my chair. I didn’t want any tea and wasn’t sure I could swallow cake, but
my offer got the subject changed, and changed it would stay. “Is this the right drawer?” I indicated the top drawer in the hutch. At Hattie’s nod, I slid it open. It contained an assortment of silver pieces, no two alike, all lying in divided slots lined with purple velvet. In spite of my irritation, I was impressed. The pieces were heavy, with intricate patterns, but the most impressive thing was how well they were cared for. Sterling silver wasn’t easy to keep. There wasn’t one speck of tarnish on any of these. I picked up the top three forks and spoons. “Are these the ones you want to use?”

Though
surprised and none too pleased, Hattie nodded.

“Napkins? Are they in here?” Aunt Mary stood beside me, looking into the drawer. Our eyes met. She nodded toward the drawer slightly as if to indicate approval. Hattie was busy with the cake so Aunt Mary pulled the other drawer open.
No napkins. It contained a small bone china serving dish, a silver sugar bowl and sugar tongs, a silver gravy boat, and several beautiful sterling silver serving spoons—elaborately engraved, all beautiful, and all in different patterns. In the corner, nestled on a bed of what looked like silk, was a blue and white china bowl. That was all we saw before the drawer closed.

“That drawer is for things I don’t use much. The napkins and tablecloths are in the chest over there.” Hattie marched over to the chest on the other side of the room, the one that stood high off the floor and had closed doors across the front. “This is the linen press.” She opened the doors. Linens were carefully laid out on shelves inside the cabinet, ready to be used. She selected three almond-colored napkins, heavy with embroidery, and returned to the table. She placed one beside Aunt Mary’s plate, then mine and waited pointedly for us to return.

“You have beautiful things, all that silver and crystal
,” Aunt Mary said.

Hattie laughed, a little bell-like
peal with absolutely no mirth. “Some of those things are priceless. Jerome’s family things, you know. I’d die if one got broken, so I leave them in those drawers.”

Aunt Mary nodded. “One can’t be too careful.” She paused and took another bite. “Delicious.”

Hattie played with her fork, her eyes never leaving it. “Payton was wondering when Monty’s body would be released. He’s trying to make the funeral arrangements and needs to set a date.”

“Didn’t Monty have any family? You said his mother died.”

“Yes, several years ago. Poor Virginia. She fell down the cellar stairs and broke her neck.”

Aunt Mary choked on her tea. She held her napkin up to her mouth, coughing into it while she tried to get her breath. Hattie frowned. I wasn’t sure if it was the coughing or because now she’d have to wash and iron the napkin.

Finally Aunt Mary could breathe again. “The Smithwood cellar stairs?”

“Yeah. That’s where she lived. Not in the small house, of course. Cora Lee stayed in it when she came. Virginia lived in the big house. William had long since abandoned her to move in with Elizabeth, but Virginia stayed on. She loved Smithwood, you know. Just loved it. You would a’ thought it was
her
ancestral home. Such a tragedy.”

“What was she doing in that house if she lived in the big one?”

“Don’t know. Except it’s the only way to get to the cellar without going outside.”

Hattie knew Smithwood.

“Ah, did Monty live there also?” That seemed safe and I really wanted to know.

“Oh,
no. He’d moved out long since. He was still married to Amy when his mother died, but they were getting ready to separate. He never told her, and that’s a blessing. Virginia, she’d a’ been devastated if she’d known. Amy came from another one of the old families, you know.”

That seemed to be a priority. I wondered if Payton was married. If so, Hattie
had probably examined his wife’s pedigree before she gave her blessing. By those standards, Monty wasn’t much of a catch. Or, had Amy, whoever she was, thought Smithwood came along with the deal and got tired of waiting? Now,
there
was an interesting idea.

“He thought about moving back out there after his mother died, him being alone, and it seemed a natural thing to do since he was sure he’d inherit the place. He could see to the management of it all, and he wouldn’t have to get an apartment, either. Only, William wouldn’t let him. Said Cora Lee managed it just fine. So Monty stayed in town. Closer to his law office, I guess.”

He hadn’t considered moving out there while his mother was alive. Or had Amy refused to live with Virginia? I wondered what had caused her to fall. The stairs were fairly well lit. It was the floor of the cellar that was so dark, at least until you got down there and turned on the downstairs lights. I pushed back my cake plate. “This is wonderful, Hattie. I’m sure Elizabeth will want you to teach the students cake making. She should be here any time now. She’ll probably have a lot of questions.” I hoped not too many. It was already after two and we still had to go to the market.

“Perhaps we could look at the garden while we wait?” Aunt Mary pushed her empty cake plate away and started to stand. “I noticed how lovely it was as I came in. I want to ask you about a few of the plants.”

Hattie didn’t move. “Is Elizabeth really going to use Calvin Campbell to plant and care for her garden? Not that he don’t—doesn’t—know about gardens, but he’s not reliable. Never was. That’s what my Payton says. He ought to know. They all went to school together.” She paused. “He hated Monty, you know.”

She pushed back her chair and gathered up her plate and cup to take to the sink.

Aunt Mary piled mine on hers and followed. “I don’t know what Elizabeth is going to do. Why don’t you ask her when she comes?”

Hattie got to the sink before
Aunt Mary. “I’ll take those. Everything in this room gets taken care of as if we were in the eighteenth century. I’ll put them on the hutch and heat some more water and get them washed up later. The basin for washing them is over there”—she waved in the direction of a ceramic basin that sat on the bench—“and I keep the soap in that little crock.”