Creeps Suzette (6 page)

“I wondered,” the young man said. “I didn't see a car out here and that dude from the gatehouse hasn't called us. Hang loose, I'll be right back.”

“He's not going to be here for fifty years,” Renie murmured after the houseboy had left them standing in the slate-covered entrance hall. “I'll bet he goes to the community college up the road.”

The cousins had just taken in a glimpse of the sunken living room with its tiger- and leopard-skin accessories, when a too-thin middle-aged woman with graying red hair appeared from a side door.

As Judith and Renie introduced themselves, Dorothy Burgess barely masked her suspicion. “Come into the solarium,” she said in a tone that sounded as if she'd prefer inviting the cousins into a dungeon.

The solarium was off the formal dining room and faced
west. Enough trees had been cut to allow a narrow view of the sound and mountains. With an indifferent gesture, Dorothy indicated that her guests should sit in one of a half-dozen cushioned wrought-iron chairs.

“So you're Bev's spies,” she said, brushing her long pageboy off her forehead. “What have you learned so far?”

Judith could see from the set of Renie's short chin that she was annoyed by the question. “Most of the family secrets,” Renie responded. “Your mother-in-law is very garrulous.”

“No, she's not,” Dorothy retorted, picking up a gold cigarette case and matching lighter. “She's very reserved. You've come to Creepers for nothing.”

“Then the attempts on Leota's life don't worry you?” Renie shot back.

Dorothy laughed, then took a deep drag on her cigarette. “No,” she said, flicking at an overflowing ashtray. “Leota watches too much TV. Soap operas at noon, police and detective shows at night. She's living out one of those dramas, with herself as the heroine in jeopardy. I humor her—we all do. I'm sure she's enjoying this immensely.”

Judith glanced at Renie. The one o'clock lunchtime and the early dinner hour were explained by Mrs. Burgess's TV schedule.

“Has Leota ever done this before?” Judith asked. “Fantasizing, I mean.”

“Not that I noticed,” Dorothy replied. “But good grief, the woman will be eighty this coming June. Isn't she entitled to be a bit gaga?”

She was, in Judith's opinion. Gertrude had been very sharp until the last few years, and she was older than Leota. “You have a point,” Judith admitted. “I also suppose she gets bored.”

“Of course,” Dorothy said, frowning at Renie, who had also lighted up. “Who doesn't? Most of my friends are still alive, and I still get bored. How much fun do you think it is watching Derek water these damned plants?” She ges
tured at the masses of flora in the solarium, which included some beautiful orchids.

“Derek?” Judith said.

“The houseboy.” A mischievous expression crossed Dorothy's face. “He's lazy, he's flippant, he's unreliable. I keep him on just to annoy my husband, Wayne. Besides, the kid needs the money to finish his associate arts degree at the community college.”

Judith softened a bit toward Dorothy Burgess. “Your husband runs Evergreen Timber, doesn't he?”

Dorothy's face shut down. “Yes.” She stubbed out her cigarette and immediately lighted another. Judith wondered why the plants didn't die from all the carbon monoxide.

The sudden silence prodded Renie. “I did a project for Evergreen Timber five, six years ago. They were trying to rev up their corporate image. Reforestation, animal preserves, all that sort of thing to make the company look like good guys instead of robber barons. Do you remember that campaign?”

“No.” Dorothy shot Renie a withering glance.

Renie was neither withered nor blighted. “It's coming back to me now. Evergreen had gotten a bad rep for some big trade-off with the National Park Service. Old-growth timber that the environmentalists got up in arms about. It wasn't the first time, either. I don't think I met your husband then, I worked with his PR people. I haven't paid much attention since, but it seems to me that the tarnish still hasn't worn off.”

“I don't meddle in my husband's business affairs,” Dorothy said with a forbidding expression. “Look, have you two got anything interesting to say or is this it?”

“This,” Renie said, standing up and extinguishing her cigarette, “is it. Thanks, Dorothy. To quote Groucho Marx, “I've had a good time, but this wasn't one of them'.” Renie stomped out of the solarium, bumping into a large pineapple plant en route.

“I guess we're going,” Judith murmured. “By the way, who's Suzette?”

Dorothy's face fell. “Suzette?” she echoed stupidly. “Oh. Suzette. I don't know. That was before my time.”

Their hostess didn't bother to see the cousins to the door.

Judith and Renie argued all the way back to Creepers. Judith didn't see why Renie had been rude to Dorothy Burgess. Renie didn't see why Judith gave a rat's ass about Dorothy. They were still arguing as they changed for cocktails and dinner.

“Dorothy is one of those bored corporate wives,” Renie asserted. “You learned about that type when we were up at Mountain Goat Lodge with the phone company execs.”

“Don't remind me,” Judith shuddered. “They all kept dying on us.”

“That's beside the point,” Renie countered. “Dorothy's a parasite. And why do we have to be nice to everyone? I didn't agree to come here to make friends. What else did you want to find out?”

Judith, who had slipped into a dark green jersey dress, struggled with the zipper. “I don't know. She might even be right about Mrs. Burgess's fantasizing.” Stepping in front of the mirror on the armoire, she made a face. “I look fat in this. Tell me I'm fat.”

“You're not fat,” Renie declared. “You're big-boned. Statuesque is the proper term, I believe.”

“That's what I'd like to think, but I'm also fat. I put on six pounds over the holidays that I never lost.” Judith frowned at her image. At five-nine, she could afford the extra weight, but she tended to believe the scales and not her own eyes. “I look like a blimp.”

“No, you don't. You'll lose the weight. You always do. Let's go,” Renie said. “I could use a drink.”

The drawing room was long and narrow, jammed with heavy, dark furnishings. A grand piano stood at one end, covered with a black and red Spanish shawl and several framed photographs. Tiffany lamps, lamps with fringed shades, lamps supported by half-draped goddesses rested on the floor and atop a half-dozen tables. There were cameo glass vases, sterling silver pitchers and dishes, Russian en
amel jars, mother-of-pearl loving cups, Lalique figurines, and mirrors framed by elaborate scrollwork. A pair of fierce fire dogs sat on the inlaid hearth, looking as if they'd bite anyone who had the temerity to come too close.

“We're being suffocated by several million dollars' worth of antiques,” Renie complained. “I'd give my eyeteeth for just one of those lamps, but all shoved into one space, I want to run like a deer.”

Kenyon shuffled into the room and took up his post behind a counter ornamented with a glass front and a pattern of entwined ivy. Renie leaned on her elbows and ordered a bourbon and water; Judith followed with a request for Scotch-rocks.

“So now what?” Renie asked as they wandered back to the fireplace. “When does the revelry begin? Or does Kenyon put on one of those fringed lampshades and that's it?”

It was. Except that Kenyon didn't go for the lampshade. After twenty minutes, the cousins requested a refill. Judith lingered at the bar.

“Does the name Suzette mean anything to you?” she asked the butler.

Kenyon blinked several times. “I know the name,” he replied.

“Who is she?” Judith persevered.

“I believe you should ask the mistress that question,” he said, fumbling with a couple of shot glasses. “I'm not at liberty to say.”

The mistress arrived five minutes later. Without being asked, Kenyon presented Mrs. Burgess with a vodka martini.

“Well?” she said, bestowing a regal smile on the cousins. “Have you accomplished anything this afternoon?”

Renie reported that they'd called on Dorothy Burgess. “She doesn't seem like a very happy person.”

“Dorothy claims she's frustrated,” Mrs. Burgess replied. “She once had dreams of her own career. That wasn't possible, of course. By marrying Wayne, she had to dedicate herself to his career with Evergreen Timber. He worked his
way up through the ranks. My husband didn't think his son should be handed everything on a silver platter.”

“You've got about five of them right here,” Renie remarked.

Mrs. Burgess frowned. “Is that supposed to be amusing, Serena?”

“No,” Renie replied quite seriously. “But suddenly I feel sorry for Dorothy. What did she want to do?”

Carefully arranging the long skirt of her blue cocktail dress, Mrs. Burgess took a sip from her drink before answering. “When Wayne met her, she was studying to become a physical therapist. But when they became engaged, naturally we felt that she should quit school and be a proper wife. Wayne had already finished his education, and was working for my husband. Dorothy needed to learn how to entertain, to run a household, to be there for Wayne when he had problems at work. I won't say that Dorothy was happy about that, but she came from a good family background—her father was Joshua Cole Prescott, the judge—and she knew where her duty lay. We built their house as a wedding present. Then Bayless—Bop—came along a few years later and she had her hands full. Bop has always been sort of an unruly child.”

“Bop's the pizza guy, right?” Renie asked.

“Yes.” Mrs. Burgess grimaced. “So undignified, and I tried to discourage him. But he took the money my husband left him in trust and bought a property out on the highway. I don't believe he has much business sense, but what can you expect?”

A middle-aged woman in a tight black pantsuit breezed through the door. “Am I too late for a cocktail?” she asked, coming over to Mrs. Burgess and kissing the older woman on the cheek.

“Not at all, Peggy,” Mrs. Burgess replied. “Kenyon will mix your favorite Scotch and soda at once.”

Peggy gave the cousins the once-over. “You must be Bev's buddies,” she said, reaching out a hand. “I'm Peggy Hillman. Which of you is Serena?”

“I am,” Renie replied. “This is my cousin, Judith Flynn.”

“Hi, Judith.” Peggy shook hands with a firm grip. She had tastefully tinted blond hair and a ruddy heart-shaped face. While she carried some extra weight, her figure looked firm, even voluptuous. Judith felt even more blimp-like by comparison.

“What did you do to your eye, Serena?” Peggy asked. Her voice was husky, but not unpleasant. “Poke it with a sharp stick?”

Renie went through the explanation one more time.

“That's rough,” Peggy said, almost sounding sympathetic. “Say,
Maman
,” she continued, turning to Mrs. Burgess, “I'm staying to dinner. Russ has to give a lesson at the club tonight. I don't feel like eating alone. Again.”

“That's fine, dear,” Mrs. Burgess replied. “I'm sure that Dietz has prepared plenty of food.”

The conversation was taken over by Peggy, who recounted her day, though not without amusement. A visit to the manicurist, a shopping spree at Nordquist's, lunch with friends at the clubhouse, a search of antique shops for a certain kind of decanter she wanted to give Russ for his upcoming birthday.

Dinner was served in the formal dining room, beginning with lobster bisque and followed by a savory pork loin, garlic mashed potatoes, herbed vegetables, and more of Ada's wonderful rolls. Dessert was a wonderful strawberry pie, served with coffee. At precisely five minutes to seven, Mrs. Burgess adjourned to her suite.

“So what do you think?” Peggy asked after her stepmother had gone upstairs. “Is she nuts or what?”

“What do you think?” Judith asked.

Peggy, who had brought a second Scotch and soda to the table, turned thoughtful. “She's not nuts. She may be a little paranoid. God, she's sitting on almost a billion bucks. Papa has been gone for nearly ten years. I suppose having all that money can weigh on you, make you think that someone wants it before you're ready to go on your own.”

“But,” Judith noted, “the family seems quite well-off.”

“We are,” Peggy admitted. “Papa made sure we'd be all right. He left all of us a tidy sum, including the grandkids. But of course,” she added a trifle wistfully, “that was ten years ago.”

“Is anyone hurting by now?” Judith asked.

Peggy finished her drink and set the blue Venetian cocktail glass aside. “I honestly don't know. Bev and Tom have never been interested in money. Wayne and Dorothy—” She stopped and gave the cousins a wry look. “You must be surprised that I'm blabbing all this. But even if we're not quite sure that
Maman
is really being threatened, we have to keep our options open. Who? Why? And money's a terrific motive.”

Judith nodded. “What about Wayne and Dorothy?”

Peggy leaned back in her chair, her bust nearly bursting through the single-breasted jacket. “Wayne should be retiring this year. He's sixty-two. But he's afraid to leave Evergreen Timber the way things stand. The company has its financial problems, you see. My brother doesn't want it to go out of the family's control.”

“But surely,” Renie pointed out, “the family is the major stockholder.”

“Yes,” Peggy agreed. “It is. Or rather,
Maman
is. I don't think she's aware of how bad things are with Evergreen. Wayne wouldn't want to worry her. But the CEO's job would pass to someone outside of the family. Wayne's son, Bop, is unsuited for the role, and our Kenny—Kenneth, as
Maman
calls him—has no head for business, either. Wayne feels he should stay until he's sixty-five or even seventy. If he retains a hands-on approach, he may be able to pull Evergreen out of the Dumpster.”