Death Dangles a Participle (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series) (30 page)

I was right. There was a lively and sometimes hilarious discussion. Hardy Patchke’s essay suggested that in a hundred years man would have an overdeveloped thumb from multiple decades of texting; Lew Epstein liked the idea of time travel and Micki Davenport predicted that mothers would be able to give birth to baby girls especially bred to already have lipstick and eyeliner, which elicited laughs and a few catcalls.

Serendipity didn’t participate. She didn’t even react to the discussion. A few minutes before the end of class, as the essay papers were being collected, she abruptly excused herself and left the room, head down and hair obscuring her face. I caught a quick glimpse of her expression and made no objection to her leaving.

As the classes changed, I remained at my desk and shuffled through the various papers, putting them in alphabetical order. To my surprise, I found a paper by Serendipity Shea among them.

“My Vision of the Future,” she wrote in her long, back-slanted hand, “isn’t what I thought it would be before. My world was wonderful. It was full of fun and love and happiness . . . ” She went on in this same vein for several paragraphs, then ended with, “But I have no future now. My life is over.”

Serendipity was extremely depressed. I put the essay aside to give to the school counselor. Normally I’d call the child’s parents, but under the circumstances . . .

In my break period I checked with Olive in the school office. Elise Turner, our part-time school counselor was at a conference at the local college until late afternoon. I explained that I had important information about a student.

“Put it in her box,” Olive ordered, with her eyes glued as usual to the computer screen, “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

It was the best I could do under the circumstances. I wrote a short cover note, put the essay in an envelope, and headed for the teacher’s work room.

As I entered, I saw Judith Dee extracting notes from her message box. Does the woman
live
in this room? I thought, but smiled my greeting, found Elise’s box and deposited the envelope.

I was about to leave when Judith said, “Oh, Amelia, I’ll be out of school all next week.”

That wasn’t earth-shaking news. Judith only worked mornings, anyway. I paid merely polite attention to her. I was foraging in my satchel for another packet of peanut butter crackers. The bouts with nausea were becoming more manageable if I just kept something on my stomach at all times.

“I hope there’s nothing wrong,” I said, more as a courtesy than in true concern.

She smiled at me beatifically. “Oh, no, not at all. Just a series of tests. I’m healthy as a horse, thank heaven. They checked me out thoroughly after that situation last year. I’m fine. It’s just tests.”

“But a whole week—” The light dawned. “Judith, are you being tested to donate a kidney?”

“How did you know? Oh, but you had Felicity staying at your house, didn’t you? She must have told you.”

She sidled closer and spoke in a whisper, though there was no one else in the room. “I knew him, you know? Blakely’s father. Quite well, in fact.” She pulled on a chain that extended down into her neckline and extracted a dime-sized, heart-shaped locket.

She opened it. The two hearts contained tiny black-and white photos of two different young men. Judith pointed to the one on the left. “That’s him.”

I didn’t correct her: That’s he was admittedly pretty clumsy.

“He looks a lot like Blakely,” I remarked, squinting.

“And that’s Will Dee, my husband,” she said, indicating the other picture of a pleasant-faced young balding man.

She sighed. “I miss them both.” She dropped the locket back into her blouse. “I suppose it’s why I had such a soft spot for Blakely.” She gathered up her purse and papers. “You know, Amelia, I came into a little money recently—an elderly relative died—and I’ve wondered what it is I should do with it all. Now I know. I can use it for my traveling expenses to Ohio, should I be chosen.”

“It’s an admirable thing to do—to be willing to do, Judith,” I said.

She waved away my admiration modestly. “Aw, no, not really.” She tilted her head and looked at me, straight on. “You know, if I’d had the chance to do this for my husband Will, I would have in a heartbeat.” Her face pinched a little. “So now, I do have the chance to do this for my first love, and it’s a privilege.” She tightened her mouth, straightened her back, and smiled at me. “A true privilege.”

She headed out the door and said, almost gaily, “Say a prayer that I’m a match!”

“I’m trying again, Amelia,” Alec said as we drove along the snowy country road to my house late that afternoon. “Preparations.” With a backward nod, he indicated two large sacks of groceries in the back seat. “Friday night I’m fixing her a steak dinner with all the trimmings and popping the question once more.”

“At your place?”

Alec lived just a few miles down the road from us, also on the lakeshore, in a sixties-style brick ranch house that retained all its eccentric, outdated features, much like Alec. “Have you shown it to her?”

“Nope. Not until now.” He smiled. “Might as well let her see the real me, warts and all.”

“That’s probably a good plan.” I laid a hand on his arm. “But Alec, don’t get your hopes up. Lily’s, well—”

“Never fear, dear lady, I have no illusions about her, not any more. She’s a quixotic little thing with a short attention span, prone to wander, but I do love her.” He began to quietly whistle a snatch of “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.”

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it . . .

Alec turned into our driveway. “Well, here we are.”

“Thanks for the lift, Alec.”

“No bother. And don’t fret. The lad’ll come round eventually.”

Vern was still staying at the B&B and avoiding Gil and me like the plague. It was why I had to get a ride home from Alec.

“I do hope so.”

Only a few minutes later, the front door opened and Vern came striding in. I rose from my spot on the sofa where I was enjoying my second peanut-butter-sandwich-and-milk snack of the day.

“Vern, hello.”

“Mmm,” he answered with a curt nod. In three long steps, he was in the kitchen, where he located several large black garbage bags. Then he brushed past me into his room.

I followed. “Vern,” I began, “we need to talk.”

He pulled open a dresser drawer full of underwear and dumped it unceremoniously into one of the bags. “No need. Everything’s fine. I just made a decision, that’s all.”

“Decision?”

This didn’t have a good sound. I felt a little sick, so I sat on the edge of his bed.

He located a pair of sneakers under his bed and dropped them into the bag. “Yep. You know, I’ve been mooching off you and Gil for too long. It’s time I did a little growing up, went out on my own.” He pulled a poster of the periodic table from the wall, rolled it up, and fastened it with a rubber band from his pocket.

“But where are you going?” I asked his back as he wound an extension cord around his arm.

“The dorm. I got a buddy whose roommate dropped out. I can stay rent free for the rest of the semester, then figure out what to do from there.”

“Well,” I said weakly, “if that’s what you want to do.”

He paused in his packing. “It’s what I want to do.” He gave me a small smile. “Don’t look like that, Amelia. I don’t hate you.”

“You—you don’t?”

“Well, maybe just a little bit, but it’s all going to turn out for the best.” He waved a long arm dramatically in the air. “You’ll have this room for little what’s his name, and I’ll be going out into the great big world to face my future. Congratulations, by the way. Alec told me.”

“Thanks.” I remembered something. “Wait just a minute.” I left the room and returned carrying the Wile-E-Coyote tie.

“Thanks,” he said, his tone a little more gentle. He rolled it up and stuck it in a side pocket.

All at once, I felt a strange vibration on my upper thigh. “Vern? Something’s happening.”

I looked down at my leg. The vibration had stopped. Then it started again.
Bzzzzz.

“What on earth?”

“Here.” With an exasperated sigh, Vern reached into the patch pocket on my oversized sweater and extracted my cell phone. “You must have set it on vibrate.” He flipped it open and handed it to me.

It was probably Gil, I thought. “Hello?”

I heard a breath, then a kind of squeak. Was this some kind of obscene phone call?

The words came out in a whisper and a gulp. “My life . . . is over. I hope you’re happy.”

“What? Who is this?”

A little louder this time, “My life is over. Aren’t you glad?”

“Serendipity? Where are you?”

Vern leaned forward, frowning, a question on his face. I held up a restraining hand.

Serendipity spoke again. “I’m far, far away, where you’ll never find me.” The voice seemed to fade away, then returned. “Never, never, never . . . find me . . . ”

I put my hand over the receiver and whispered, “Serendipity’s in some kind of trouble. We’ve got to find her. Can’t the police locate her cell phone or something?”

He shook his head. “Takes too long,” he whispered. He pointed to his ear. “Let me listen.”

We held the receiver between our two heads.

“Serry? Why did you call me?”

“My mother calls me Serry. Don’t call me that. My . . . jailbird mother calls me that— ” A honking blast, rather like an extremely loud car horn, sounded twice in the background.

Vern gestured to me to keep her talking.

“I’m sorry, Serendipity. I didn’t mean to. Where did you say you were?”

We could hear the blast again. It sounded familiar.

Vern frowned and mouthed, “Ferryboat?”

“Where?” I mouthed back.

“Somewhere far away. Somewhere cooold. Somewhere high, high . . . ” She launched into a sing-song. “I can see for miles and miles and miles . . . ”

Vern snapped his fingers. “Hogan’s Cliff,” he mouthed.

I nodded. It was a precarious, scenic overlook well within earshot of the ferryboat horn. If she wasn’t there, she had to be somewhere nearby.

“But why did you call me, Serendipity?” I asked carefully.

As I continued to talk on the cell phone, Vern took my arm, led me down the hall and helped me on with my coat.

“Serendipity? Why did you call me?” I repeated, concerned by the silence on the other end.

Vern led me out into the cold. There was only one car in the driveway: the Rousseaus’ battered VW. He ignored my questioning expression and insistently urged me into the passenger seat.

Serendipity answered me at last. “Because . . . because-because-because . . . I wanted to make you happy, Miss Prentice.”

“Happy? You want to make me happy?”

I tried reflecting her statement back to her. I’d taken a counseling course in college. Now was as good a time as any to try out the technique since I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She gave a mirthless laugh. “It’s the only chance I’ll ever have to make you happy, Miss Prentice. And I really do want to make you happy.”

I pretended not to hear the sarcasm. “I appreciate that. But why do you want to make me happy?”

By this time, we were careening down the icy country road, heading toward the ferryboat dock. Contrary to what one might think, the ferryboat ran through most of the winter, since the crossing location was where the water seldom froze over.

“What if . . . what if-what if-what if . . . you never had to mess with me again?”

“Mess with you?”

“Well, yeah! You know, never having Serendipity Shea to pick on again.” She laughed.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

Vern was on his own cell phone, calling the police and trying to drive at the same time. It made for some narrow misses on the slippery road.

“No,” I said. “I like having you in my class.”

“Oh, get real! Don’t lie to me! You’re always on my case! You hate me!”

Not any more.
“That’s not true. I like smart people. I like the challenge of—”

“Smart? You think I’m
smart?
”

We made the turn onto the road marked Hobson’s Cliff Scenic Overlook. It was a little-known spot, a favorite among professional photographers, a beautiful place with a small parking lot and a totally inadequate barrier dividing the solid ground from the overhanging rock that thrust outward, hanging at least two hundred feet above the lake surface.

“You certainly are smart. You have loads of, um, intellectual potential.”

In the little phone, I heard her say, “Hah, guys don’t like girls who’re smart.”

Slowly Vern drove the bright purple VW along the narrow gravel road through the woods to the lake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why, look at my husband. He’d never marry a woman who wasn’t smart.”

I turned to Vern and put a warning finger to my lips. We didn’t want to startle the girl.

“I heard a different story, Miss Prentice. I heard—”

Sharply, I said, “Do you believe common gossip, Serendipity Shea?”

There was a long pause.

As I waited for the girl’s reply, I frantically chastised myself.
Why, oh, why did you let this girl get to you at a time like this?

The sound of Serendipity’s voice made my heart resume beating. “No, I don’t. I hate gossip! Do you know what they’re saying about my mom? What they’re saying about me?” She gave a little sob. “They used to be my friends!” She began crying in earnest now.

Her father’s car, a snazzy red sports number, stood alone in the parking lot. She was too young for a driver’s license, but that infraction wasn’t important now.