A Will To Murder (17 page)

“No!” stormed Arthur.  With Frederick in danger, he felt fierce enough to face even Mrs. Marshpool.

“You had better,” the housekeeper snarled.  “Because I found that
disgusting obscenity
in your room.  You’re the one who tried to humiliate your uncle!  How dare you?”

Arthur could only stare back, astonished that Mrs. Marshpool had been going through his belongings.  Boyle’s eyes widened.  He looked his nephew up and down in disbelief and started to shake Frederick, but Arthur let out such a violent squall of protest that Armagnac startled backwards.  Quivering, Boyle hurried off down the side hallway and left the house.  Arthur followed.

His uncle was heading for the gardener’s shed.  When Boyle reached the door, still open after Heydrick’s earlier accident with Richie, he hurled Frederick inside.  The rabbit hit the shed wall with a loud thump, and Arthur was horrified.

Still shaking, Boyle slammed the door shut and went back to the house.  Arthur hid in a bush, waiting until his uncle passed, then ran madly for the shed.  He found the rabbit against the opposite wall.  Carefully, he picked Frederick up and brushed off a few grass clippings.  The rabbit didn’t seem to be hurt.  Then Arthur glanced at a shelf on his left and saw a gardener’s handfork lying there.  The prongs were much closer together than was normal for handforks and covered with something that looked a lot like blood.  Arthur picked the handfork up and held it out in the light of the doorway, and it still looked like blood.

He put the handfork back on the shelf and saw a CD case sitting next to it.  The label read ‘Jazzy F*KU.’

Chapter 11

How could the CD case have gotten here?  Arthur wondered.  He remembered he’d noticed Heydrick out the window while examining the CD case for the first time in the attic.  Could the gardener have seen him, too?  And run up to grab the case?  But that meant Heydrick must have known the case was already in the attic.    

A distant shout interrupted Arthur's thoughts, and he saw Heydrick getting out of a pickup truck.  The boy dropped the case and took off for the door under the arch, hugging Frederick.  He could face Uncle Armagnac, but not the gardener.

Once inside, Arthur disappeared into his parents' room and hid the rabbit under the bed.  Then he went out and opened the door that led to the observation deck.  Through the ironwork steps he saw Heydrick fastening the shed door with a combination lock.  The gardener looked back at the house.  Quickly, the boy fled again to his parent's room.  

About an hour later the phone rang, and Katherine answered it.  “Hello?  Dr. Anderson?  Yes, we've been waiting to hear from you.  A wolf?  Well, that's too bad.  Lance won't be happy to hear that.  I wonder how it could have entered the pen.”  She paused to listen.  “You found a space in the wire?  It was cheap wire, I admit; James hated to spend money.”  Katherine noticed that Briarly was listening and lowered her voice.  

“Who's that?” asked Armagnac.

“Well, thank you very much, Dr. Anderson.  I hope that's not my nephew Lance I'm hearing in the background.  It is?  Oh, dear.”

A distant voice was yelling, “Hey, I could have bought a lot of steroids with that money!”    

The old lady shook her head.  “Well, try to placate Lance as much as possible.  I'll tell the family.  Goodbye.”  She hung up.  “That was the vet calling from the farm.  He says that judging from the marks, it looks like a wolf.”

“We don't have wolves around here,” Armagnac protested.

“Apparently we do, the vet says.  A wire was loose on the stake.  The vet thinks that's how the wolf squeezed in.”

“Aunt Katherine?”  Briarly was standing expectantly.

“Yes, dear?”

“Could you show me how to use the washer and dryer?”

“What for?”

“Mom wants me to do our laundry.”

The old lady stared at the little girl.  

“Mom doesn't trust Mrs. Marshpool to do it,” Briarly added hesitantly.  A blast of disgust came out of Armagnac's nose.

“Don't you worry about that,” said Katherine.  “You're a guest.  I’ll wash the clothes myself, if your mother is so upset.  Here, why don't you help me arrange some flowers?  You can have a vase of your own to fill.”

Frantically, Boyle signaled his aunt with his eyebrows.  “Um, the wolf?”

Katherine glanced aside at the girl.  “Pick out your vase, dear.  We have several on the sideboard.”  Then she said to her nephew, “The slash marks looked like they came from a wolf’s claws, though the wolf didn't seem to eat anything.  The vet said that was odd.”

Armagnac snorted.  “So Lance and Colette won't receive an inheritance.  I can't say I'm upset.”

“I've left them something in my own will,” Katherine replied firmly.  “Is that your vase, dear?  It's very pretty.  I'll show you where to cut the stems.  Do you know what?  I think I’ll have a formal tea today.  Armagnac, go ask Bradley and Eric if they'll take tea in the living room at four o'clock.”

“This is hardly the time to be giving tea parties!” yelped Boyle.

“I haven't invited
you
.  This is only for the guests.  It's time they saw we can be civilized people here at Rollingwood.”

Irritated, Armagnac stomped off to carry her message, while Katherine went into the kitchen and told Sheila about her plans for the tea.  Arthur, meanwhile, was sneaking down the back stairs.  Heydrick hadn't come to accuse him, so the boy thought it might be safe to emerge.  But Arthur wasn’t going to tell anybody what he'd seen in that shed.  His father had already threatened him if he talked about that CD.  Yet the memory of it, and that bloody handfork, made him hesitate.  Maybe he should tell anyway.

“There you are, Arthur.  We're going to have tea shortly in the living room, at four o’clock, and you're invited,” Katherine said.

Arthur almost told her, then decided to say nothing.  

Later that day Bradley was dressing for tea while Eric paced back and forth, waiting for him to finish.  Smith was almost done, but still needed to decide about a jacket.   “The turquoise and black one is my favorite,” he said as he dug through a suitcase, “but it’s a little loud for a tea.  I wonder if Jac’s got anything I could borrow from her closet?”  He gave his friend a sly look.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t even consider it!  Didn’t you notice the mood she was in?  She’d stuff you down the throat of one of your cats.”  Eric was feeling irritable, for Muffin had already attacked his feet twice.  Fortunately, he had changed into his hiking boots before entering Bradley’s room.  

The other cat, Purrball, was sprawled inside a suitcase, batting at a shirt that was spread over her.  Everything inside the suitcases was covered with cat hair, but Bradley didn’t mind.  Cats had a perfect right to lie on clothes, he felt.  But this meant he always had to use a lint roller over everything he planned to wear.  He’d been de-catifying all his jackets for the last half-hour.   

“I’m kidding you,” Smith replied, exasperated.  “I’m not that stupid.”

“I hope not.  Are you done?  We need to go downstairs some month or other.”

“If you used the lint roller while I held up jackets, this would go faster.”

“There is no way I’m going to clean your clothes off for you.  Why don’t you use that roller on those cats?  They’d shed less.”

“Barbarian.  That would hurt them.”

“As if I’d care.  They’re trying to hurt
me
.”  Eric gave Muffin a warning scowl, for the kitten was crouching half-hidden under a skirt of bedspread, wild-eyed and ready to assault another boot.  “I’m glad we’re leaving tomorrow.  Have you told the family yet?”

“No.”  

“You’d better do it soon.  By the way, what do you think about that ostrich?  Natural death or not?”

“Could be.”  Armagnac had told them how Woofie had died while delivering the invitation.  

“Still, the timing’s strange.  Right after the will reading.”  

Bradley shrugged.  “It’s possible that Lance and Colette killed Woofie themselves for the insurance money, but I don’t think the ostrich was insured.  At least that was what Lance was saying.  But who would gain from killing Woofie?  Katherine’s the only one who would benefit, though it would only add twenty thousand a year onto her income, and she’s already getting the entire estate.  Why would she kill Woofie?  Besides, she seems fond of the Wileys.”  

“Maybe Woofie bit her,” said Eric sardonically, eyeing Muffin.

“We already know that you’re an animal hater,” said Bradley impatiently.  “I think the vet was right.  It had to be a wolf.  There’s no motive for anyone to kill Woofie.”

“What about some ancient grudge against Sophia?”  Katherine had told them, evasively, why Sophia had cut herself off from the family.  “Or maybe just spite?  People can behave irrationally when they’re fighting over a will.”  

“You’re sure making me feel comfortable.”

“Maybe you’re lucky you only got a hundred bucks--and that we’re leaving tomorrow.”  Silently, Eric reflected that the cash was undoubtedly intended to keep Smith from contesting the will.  Hamilton could argue that the bequest meant James had not neglected Bradley, and that the hundred was also the limit of his client’s good intentions, thus not to be disputed.  The same would go for Rose’s two hundred as well.

“Something else about the ostrich still puzzles me.  Why leave him to the Wileys in the first place?  Did James have some special reason to be annoyed with them?”

“Hey, some people would like to have a pet.”

“An ostrich ain’t no goldfish.”  

“Okay already!  I can’t guess why Grandad gave him away, either.  I wish I knew more about his death.”

“I’ve a few details to add,” said Eric, not mentioning they came from Wendy.  He told Bradley about the remote and timer.  Smith listened closely, but didn’t comment.  When Eric finished, it was a little after four o’clock, and since his friend still wasn’t ready, Eric went down to the tea by himself.

Arthur sat stiffly on the L-shaped sofa next to Briarly, watching Mrs. Marshpool wheeling in a silver tea cart and a spirit burner.  Most of the rest of the family had gone to Hamilton’s with Lance and Colette to discuss Woofie's death.  

The boy was dubious about this tea business.  Aunt Katherine must be trying to lady things up after all the bad behavior at the will reading, but he would bear it for her sake.  Aunt Katherine seemed downcast, though trying to pretend she wasn't.  The children exchanged looks as Katherine expounded on the ritual of tea, dropping leaves into the pot as the spirit burner heated the water.  Both children sensed an effort to teach them manners and weren't sure they liked it.

Arthur had been worried about the tea itself, but was relieved to find it was real tea they would be drinking, not one of his mother's.  Still, he couldn't drink real tea either, but Aunt Katherine was serving cambric tea, diluted with plenty of milk and sugar.  Fortunately there was a chocolate cake on the lower level of the cart, thick with storm-high waves of frosting, along with a plate of tiny sandwiches.  On a lower tier was an ice bucket with three bottles, two brown, and one of white porcelain with a bow tied around its neck.  The brown bottles, Katherine explained, were chilled spruce beer, which she had brewed herself.  The third was dandelion wine.

“This is the milk jug,” Katherine was saying, “and here is the slops bowl, where you put the old tea leaves when you want another batch.  Would you children like a taste of either the spruce beer or dandelion wine?  Your mother, Arthur, gave me the wine.”

Once again Arthur wondered what it was with grownups.  “No, thank you,” said the children in unison.

Eric arrived and took a seat.  “Bradley will be down in a moment, Ms. Boyle.  He's still trying to get dressed.”

“I shouldn’t think it would take him long,” said Katherine pointedly.  “Would you care for a cup, Mr. Maxwell?  Or maybe some spruce beer or dandelion wine?”

“Just tea for now, Ms. Boyle.  Maybe the others later.  Who else is coming?”

“Only Bradley, I'm afraid.  I invited Richie, but he wasn’t interested.”  The starchy way she spoke suggested that Richie had not returned a polite reply to her invitation.  Suddenly she beamed hard at the children.  Briarly and Arthur were eyeing the unoffered cake longingly.

“I’m still curious about how the ostrich was killed,” Eric said thoughtfully. “It seems strange.”  

The old lady’s teacup settled into its saucer with a solid clink, as if she had given up.  She sighed and looked out the windows.  “The vet said it was a wolf.”

“I think a sheep killed Woofie,” said Arthur.

“Don't think so,” Eric replied.  “Sheep are pretty meek.”

The boy rolled his eyes at Briarly to signal how stupid Eric was, but she only giggled.  Irritated, Arthur ate a tiny cashew butter sandwich.

“Ms. Boyle, I hope you won't mind me asking, but was it possible your chauffeur could have installed that CD player in your brother's car?”

Katherine winced.  “That is a rather bald question, but no, he couldn't have.  Willowby was on vacation for two weeks right before that drive he took with James, and he’d only come back that morning.  There was not enough time for it.  According to the police, it must have taken many hours.  If you're sitting in the car, there's carpeting right behind your calves.  Someone had hollowed out an area underneath the seat--it’s all wood--and hand-stitched the carpeting back into place after installing the player.”  

Arthur listened with fascination, cake temporarily forgotten.  He almost blurted out that he’d seen the CD case, then remembered his father’s threat.  The boy stayed silent.

“Could it have been Heydrick?”

“No!  Absolutely not.”

Eric was surprised.  Her tone was that of a woman who would not consider Heydrick’s guilt, despite all evidence--or maybe someone who knew the truth.  

“Heydrick’s gone most of the time,” the old lady added.  She began to twist the cap off the dandelion wine.  “The grounds here at Rollingwood are only part of his duties.  He spends most of his time at the farm, seeing to the sheep and the orchard.  He has set days for mowing the lawn and tending the flowerbeds here at the house, but the farm actually takes up most of his week.  He’s rarely at the carriage house unless he’s sleeping.”