Creeps Suzette (13 page)

“Not even your family?” Judith asked in a dismayed voice.

Mrs. Burgess turned away. “Least of all my family.”

Dr. Stevens arrived a moment later to check on his newly acquired patient. Nurse Fritz joined him while Judith lingered in the sitting room. She knew he wouldn't stay long because Mrs. Burgess's soap opera was about to air.

Since Judith had last seen him, Theo Stevens looked older and more drawn. “How's the ankle?” she asked as he came out of the bedroom.

“It's still swollen,” Dr. Stevens replied. “Nurse will keep icing it.”

Judith produced the keys. “Do these belong to Dr. Moss?”

Dr. Stevens took them from Judith. “Yes. Where were they?”

Judith explained about Jeepers and the pool drain. “Doesn't that suggest,” she said, “that the killer returned here to dump the keys?”

“Certainly.” Dr. Stevens's expression was grim. “Which means the killer has access to the house and grounds.”

“I think that can be assumed,” Judith said.

“Why bring them back?” Dr. Stevens remarked, frowning as he pocketed the keys. “The killer could have thrown them anywhere into the woods around here. Or maybe not,” he said. “I saw uniformed deputies combing the vicinity when I drove into Sunset Cliffs.”

“You should turn those keys over to the police,” Judith said. “Any fingerprints were probably destroyed when the keys were thrown in the pool, not to mention Jeepers and the two of us touching them. Still, the detectives must be told where they were found.”

“Oh. Of course.” Dr. Stevens looked a bit sheepish. “I'll do that on my way out.”

“By the way, what time did you discover the theft?” Judith asked, hoping her voice sounded casual.

“Around four-fifteen this morning,” Dr. Stevens replied, then smiled at Judith. “Are you playing detective, Mrs. Flynn?”

“Sort of,” Judith admitted, then told Dr. Stevens about the summons that Renie had received from Beverly Ohashi. “It seems that Mrs. Burgess is still fearful for her life.”

“I don't blame her,” Dr. Stevens said, looking at his watch. “But there are deputies around the grounds. That should reassure her.”

“This is a very high-profile murder investigation,” Judith said. “Heads will roll if it's not solved promptly.”

Dr. Stevens tapped his watch. “My head will roll if I
don't get to the Carruthers house at Beaux Arts. Mrs. Carruthers is having another asthma attack.”

Judith followed Dr. Stevens out into the hall. “Does she live in Sunset Cliffs, too?”

“Yes, about a half-mile from here. They have remarkable gardens, though no one outside of the community gets to see them.” He switched his leather briefcase from one hand to the other as he started down the stairs. “It's a pity, isn't it? The exclusiveness, the snobbery. I wonder how long I can last in this environment?”

“Do you want to?” Judith asked with a wry smile.

Dr. Stevens grimaced. “I have to,” he said, and moved briskly down the stairs.

Peggy Hillman, carrying an overnight case and a garment bag, crossed paths with the doctor between the entry hall and the staircase area. After a brief exchange of greetings, she headed upstairs.

“I see we can't throw you out,” she said to Judith, though not without humor.

“I'm afraid not,” Judith responded. “It looks like you're moving in.”

“I am.” Peggy crossed over to the door just down the hall from Mrs. Burgess's suite. “I intend to keep an eye on
Maman
. Maybe we should've taken her fears more seriously.”

“She's still very worried,” Judith noted.

“Who can blame her?” Peggy set the overnight case and the garment bag down on the floor. “This door always sticks. Kenyon should oil it. Of course somebody should oil Kenyon. He creaks worse than anything else in this house. Ah—there we go.” She picked up her belongings and turned back to Judith. “I understand Carrie has the room on the other side of
Maman
. I prefer it, but I guess I'm stuck with Papa's old quarters.”

“Your father?” Judith said and saw Peggy nod. “He and your mother had separate bedrooms?”

“It's a family tradition, going back to the nineteenth century. I'm not saying that both bedrooms were always used,”
Peggy said with a wink. “Of course it was a necessity when Papa became so ill. At one time, there was a connecting door and a little hall between the two suites, but that was sealed off years ago when Papa was still married to my real mother. See you later.” Peggy scooted inside and closed the door with her hip.

Judith remembered the small office just off Mrs. Burgess's suite. As she walked back to her own rooms, she wondered why the common door had been closed off. Age wouldn't have been a factor. If memory served, the first Mrs. Burgess had been a young woman when she died.

She was still thinking about Walter and Margaret Burgess when she found Renie smoking and doing a crossword puzzle from the morning paper.

“I filched this,” Renie said, pointing to the rest of the newspaper sections. “We were right. No news is good news for the Burgesses.”

Judith glanced at the front page, which displayed headlines from foreign capitals, Washington, D.C., and, on the local scene, the previous night's windstorm. “Amazing,” she remarked. “But if the killer is caught, the trial will have to be covered by the press. Then all this secrecy is for naught.”

Renie put out her cigarette and set the crossword aside. “What if the killer isn't caught? What if the family knows who did it, and they're closing ranks?”

“Coz.” Judith plopped down next to Renie on the settee. “That's a terrible, if plausible, idea.” She made a face at the three cigarette butts Renie had extinguished in a heart-shaped Belleek candy dish. “You know, I really wish you'd quit smoking and go back to eating like a hog.”

“I may have to, if they keep raising the price of cigarettes,” Renie said. “A carton costs more than a prime rib. By the way, what did you think of the interviews this morning with the family?”

Judith got up and emptied the candy dish in the fireplace. “I found it odd that the detectives didn't talk to each person separately,” she said, sitting back down. “I wonder if that
was a ploy to see how the two couples would answer in front of each other. Frankly, I didn't think they came off too well, especially Peggy and Russ.”

“I agree,” Renie said. “Peggy's story about going to the mall and stopping for a snack was particularly lame.”

“Peggy moved into Creepers. She's worried about her mother.” Judith remembered then to tell Renie about Dr. Moss's keys, and her conversations with Nurse Fritz, Dr. Stevens, and Mrs. Burgess. “I found it odd that Fritz knew so much about the money that Walter Burgess left for the grandchildren. She would have finished her assignment here when he died, and the will probably wasn't read right away.”

“Maybe the old gargoyle stayed on to care for Leota,” Renie suggested. “Widowhood might have temporarily sunk her.”

Judith looked skeptical. “Leota knew her husband was dying. She's a very strong woman. I doubt that she collapsed after his death. It must have come as a relief—for both of them.” Moving restlessly on the settee, Judith continued. “I keep wondering if the reason for Dr. Moss's murder goes back in time. Suzette's name keeps surfacing, and never in a positive way. Then, when I talked to Peggy just now, I realized how little the family speaks of Margaret Burgess. What happened to her?”

Renie shrugged. “She died when Peggy and Wayne were very young. They probably don't remember her. Cancer, I always assumed, though Bev never said so.”

“Why would you seal up the door between your bedroom and your husband's ?” Judith asked.

“Because Bill wanted to sleep in the closet with his favorite pair of orthopedic shoes?” Renie made a face at Judith. “Come on, coz, you know we don't have separate bedrooms.”

“You know what I mean,” Judith chided. “You'd do that if you didn't want to have sex.”

“Maybe,” Renie said, growing serious, “Margaret Burgess didn't want to have any more kids. Or maybe she
couldn't. Birth control wasn't so reliable sixty-odd years ago.”

“So my mother tells me when she calls me The Great Mistake,” Judith said dryly.

“You're speculating,” Renie said. “About Walter and Margaret, I mean.”

“I guess. It's made my head hurt,” Judith complained, reaching for her handbag to get her pillbox. “Oh, rats. I forgot, I took the last two aspirin this morning when I got up. We'll have to go out to the car. There's some in the first aid kit.”

“They must have aspirin in the house,” Renie said. “You should have asked Dr. Stevens.”

“We could use some fresh air,” Judith said, checking to see if her raincoat was dry.

“Okay.” Renie sighed. “Get my coat while you're at it.”

The cousins were out in the hall before they realized they'd have to ask the housekeeper to open the garage. At the bottom of the stairs, they met Kenyon, who was teetering around the crime scene tape.

“So ugly,” he murmured in a disgusted tone. “It detracts from the décor, don't you think?”

“The body detracted a lot more,” Renie replied.

Kenyon didn't seem to hear the remark. “So tiresome,” he wheezed. “All this coming and going. By the time I get to the front door, the caller has gone to the back. The family knows better, though sometimes they forget, too. I do wish the police would leave us alone.”

Just as Kenyon finished speaking, the front door opened. It was Kenneth, holding a baby raccoon.

“Is that a cat, Mr. Kenneth?” Kenyon asked, squinting at the animal.

“No,” Kenneth replied, “it's a raccoon. I found him out by the greenhouse. He's hurt his left back paw.”

The animal growled, swiped at Kenneth's nose, and jumped onto the floor. “Oww!” Kenneth wailed, as blood trickled down his face. “He scratched me. Doesn't he realize I'm trying to help him?”

“It doesn't look like it,” Renie said as the raccoon ran off down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. “He doesn't seem to be limping.”

Frantically, Kenneth tried to stanch the blood with a handkerchief even as he gazed every which way around the staircase area and the entry hall. “I need a cage, Kenyon. Hurry, please.”

The butler cupped his right ear. “A what, Mr. Kenneth? Did you mislay your key again?”

“I…need…a…cage,” Kenneth repeated, huffing and puffing between words. “And a bandage.”

Screams erupted from the rear of the house. Judith and Renie whirled around and started down the hall. The last words they heard from Kenyon were, “I didn't quite catch that…”

Edna was cowering in a corner, her face white as a sheet. Ada was wielding a marble rolling pin, and had managed to box in the raccoon between the work island and a large carton. With one swift move, she overturned the carton and trapped the animal.

“Who let this beast in here?” she demanded, still waving the rolling pin. “I'm telling those policemen who are all over the grounds to take this thing away and shoot it.”

“He belongs to Kenneth,” Judith said. “He'll take care of it.”

Ada backed away and set the rolling pin down on the island counter. “He'd better do it quick. That creature is trying to escape.”

Indeed, the carton was moving, unfortunately toward Edna, who screamed again.

“Oh, be quiet!” Ada shouted, putting a firm hand on the carton.

“I think I'm going to faint,” Edna said in a weak voice.

“Don't,” Renie said. “It'll take Kenyon thirty minutes to get a cage and another twenty to fetch the smelling salts. You'll be devoured alive by the time he gets here.”

“Ooh!” Edna's knees buckled and she fell to the floor in a heap.

“I don't believe this,” Renie declared in a sharp, annoyed tone. “What's wrong with these people? We have raccoons marching through our yard all the time.”

“Edna's absolutely hopeless,” her sister said, as vexed as Renie. “Let her lie there. She'll come 'round. She always does.”

Kenneth appeared with a large adhesive bandage plastered across his nose. “Where's Roscoe?” he asked, his head jerking in every direction.

“Roscoe?” Judith echoed.

“The raccoon. I already named him.” Kenneth spotted Edna on the floor. “Did she fall on top of him? Is he all right?”

“Here,” Ada said, slapping at the carton, which was still wriggling under her hand. “Get this thing out of here right now. How many times have I told you not to bring stray animals into the house? You know how they upset your grandmother.”

“I don't have a cage,” Kenneth said. “Kenyon's getting it.”

“Then turn this box into a cage,” Ada ordered. “Just take this animal away.”

Kenyon appeared in the kitchen, bearing not a cage but a bottle of smelling salts. “Where is whoever it is?” he asked vaguely.

Kenneth, Ada, and the cousins stared at him. “You were supposed to get a cage,” Kenneth said in a helpless voice.

“Oh.” The butler spotted Edna. “There she is. I'll take care of this, Mr. Kenneth.”

“I'm leaving now,” Renie announced and walked out of the kitchen.

Judith decided that her cousin had the right idea. “Let's let them solve that problem,” she said as they started down the hall. “Now where do you suppose we might find Sarah Kenyon?”

Renie paused where the hall opened onto another, narrower corridor. “We've never been this way. Let's check.”

The first door was ajar. The cousins peeked inside and
saw an old-fashioned breakfast nook that looked as if it could accommodate eight or ten people. The second door revealed a bathroom. The third was shut tight.

Judith knocked. “Who is it?” came the response.