Devil May Care (15 page)

A woman got out.

Ellie took an instant dislike to her. She insisted on

118 Elizabeth Peters this initial impression long after she had learned to know and dislike the lady even better.

She was immaculate. That was enough to be irritating on such a sticky, hot day. Her bouffant blond hair curled around her high forehead in little carefully planted ringlets. Her dress was raw silk-- ridiculous, for a casual call on a neighbor on such a steaming day--and was carefully tailored to conceal a slight affluence of hip and thigh--though it did not conceal this from Ellie's critical eye.

"Hi, there." The newcomer raised a plump white hand. Her teeth were white, too. Capped, Ellie decided.

Her gums showed when she smiled.

"You must be little Ellen." Gums shining pinkly, the woman caught Ellie by the shoulders and exuded charm. "Darling Kate has spoken of you so often. I meant to call earlier, but life is so--so-- And now I'm in search of an absentminded cavalier. Don, sweet, did you forget our tennis date?"

Affability oozed from her like a sticky stream of molasses. Ellie felt as if invisible viscous strands had glued her to the spot and closed her mouth. Overdone as it was, the performance was effective; she felt like a grubby urchin of twelve--as if she were wearing pigtails.

"Tennis on a day like this?" Donald demanded.

"You must be nuts, Marge. Anyway we didn't have a date. Just a casual possibility."

"Isn't that just like him?" Marge made a cute little grimace at Ellie.

"You must excuse me," Ellie said stiffly. "I'm afraid I don't remember--"

The doctor started, as if he too had felt the paralysis of sticky sweetness.

"Sorry, Ellie. This is our famous author-columnistiecturer ... "

"You are Marjorie Melody?" Ellie stared.

The older woman lowered mascaraed lashes.

"People usually are surprised," she murmured. "I DEVIL-MAY-CARE 119

can't imagine why. Of course, I'm not as young as I look ... " Eilie was not amused, as she usually was by women of Marjorie's type. She interpreted Donald's blank expression as bemused fascination, and was irrationally exasperated by it. Any man who was fool enough to fall for a haggard fake at least ten years his senior, with an ego the size of Mount Everest and a literary style that combined the worst of Edgar A.

Guest, Dale Evans, and Kathryn Kuhlman ... This she wanted to see more of. Besides, she had little choice; rudimentary courtesy demanded that she invite her visitor in.

Marjorie accepted the invitation with a little squeal of pleasure.

"Darling, how sweet of you. I did promise Kate I'd look in on you now and then."

Seething, Ellie led the way into the house. She couldn't imagine Kate tolerating Marjorie, much less asking her to check up on Ellie, as if she were a child.

She escorted her guest into the kitchen instead of one of the more formal rooms, wishing it weren't so elegant. It had been remodeled when Kate bought the house and was now a Better Homes and Gardens color spread, with an aged-brick fireplace wall complete with iron cranes and oak settles, a central work island bristling with copper pans and bunches of dried herbs overhead--"the works," as Kate had happily explained.

Marjorie sat down at the antique Spanish Colonial Mission table, put her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, and gave them another view of healthy gums.

"How delightfully casual. Let's do sit here, shall we, like old chums? I adore kitchens, I always say a kitchen is the chummiest place in the house--the core of the friendliness, you know. Don--I'll have my usual, darling."

12O Elizabeth Peters Ellie stepped back from the refrigerator with an exaggerated bow.

"Do take over, Don, darling," she said sweetly.

"You know where everything is."

Donald gave her an expressive look but carried out his duties as bartender smartly. When they were settled --chummily--at the table, Marjorie raised her glass.

"Here's to darling Kate. I do hope she is enjoying her vacation. I don't suppose you've heard from her?"

"I don't expect to." Ellie took a long, vulgar swig of her beer. "You know how she is. You're such good friends ... "

"I know something Kate doesn't know," the doctor put in. He seemed peculiarly restless; his face was flushed as if with heat, and his mouth kept twitching.

"What's that?" Ellie asked.

"They are going to broadcast the first preseason game on local TV," the doctor said. "It's not on a national network, so if Kate wants to see it, she'll have to come home sooner than she planned."

Marjorie laughed; a light, tinkling little laugh.

"Football? It's so darling of Kate to pretend to be interested in football, isn't it. She's so cute, with her little affectations."

The doctor pushed his chair back and stood up.

"I must be going. You--er--young people enjoy yourselves. I'll see you--when I see you, eh, Donald?"

"Cold cuts and salad in the fridge," Donald said.

"Eat. I'll check up on you later."

"Talk about Jewish mothers," the doctor said, with a smile.

When he opened the kitchen door, three cats streaked in. Finding their food dishes empty they began to prowl, looking for crumbs. Simbel jumped onto the counter and posed with the elegance of a DEVIL-MAY-CARE 121

miniature cougar, his yellow eyes fixed steadily on Marjorie. Contrary to the accepted tradition, it was her eyes that shifted away first.

"You're such a good son, Don," she said softly.

"I think it's darling of you. In this hard, cynical age--" "It's his only virtue," Ellie said caustically. "For a grown man to spend his life cutting lawns--not that he cuts them, some of Kate's grass is a foot high."

"You want me to cut it now?" Donald inquired.

"The temperature is only about ninety-five out there."

"No, darling, you mustn't take chances," Marjorie exclaimed. "Not in your condition. But--there is one little teenie thing you could do for me; my car has been making the funniest rattling noise ... "

"I'll have a look." Donald accepted the car keys and left, with alacrity. Another cat slipped through the swinging door--the old Siamese, who, after the inevitable investigation of the food dishes, climbed arthritically onto Eliie's lap. Marjorie gave it a look of undisguised loathing. Then she looked at Ellie and lowered her voice confidentially.

"Darling, that wasn't a terribly Christian thing to say, now was it? Donald isn't well. Typhoid takes so long to get over, and he was frightfully ill with it."

"Typhoid," Ellie repeated stupidly.

"Of course you know all about it, you two being so close ... If he hadn't continued to carry the load after he took sick--but he was the only medically qualified person in that entire stricken village--only a third-year student, but there were no doctors, not in that remote corner of Mexico--why, it was absolutely noble of him. ' love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life ...' "

"He's still very much alive," Ellie said. Her voice sounded dry and harsh because she was writhing with self-contempt and unwilling to betray her feelings to Marjorie.

122 Elizabeth Peters

"Ah, but he was willing to die." Marjorie's voice had the revolting oiliness she used for her little sermonettes.

"Be more charitable, darling. It's such a lovely world, full of lovable people. Love them and they will love you!"

She never knew how close she came to having the dregs of Ellie's beer poured over her head. As if sensing Ellie's mood, the Siamese put out its claws.

They pricked like ten little needles, like penance or punishment. Ellie bit her lip.

Marjorie's mood changed abruptly. She leaned forward. Her self-consciously beatific expression was replaced by one of greedy curiosity.

"What are these peculiar stories I've been hearing about you, darling? Is Ted exercising his well-known talent for exaggeration, or--"

"I expect you know as much about them as I do," Ellie said. "I wish I knew why anyone would want to play such bizarre practical jokes."

"Jokes? On you?" Marjorie lifted her eyebrows.

"Oh. Oh, yes, I see. There certainly does seem to be malice involved, doesn't there? Aimed at our old respected families ... "

"None of your relatives has turned up yet," Ellie said. "Of course it's early days."

Marjorie gave one of her tinkly little laughs. Her eyes looked like hard brown pebbles.

"Do be careful what you say, dear. Some people might interpret that as a threat."

The opening door saved Ellie from a reply that would have done her no credit. When Donald came in, Ted was with him. So were three cats, and Franklin the Pekingese. Marjorie began to look rattled. She put her feet up on the rungs of her chair.

"Your car sounds okay, Marge," Donald announced.

"If you have any more trouble, better take it to the garage."

"It sounded fine to me, too," Ted said. "Marge, you're hearing funny noises again. It's all in your DEVIL-MAY-CARE 123

head, dear. One of the dangers of spiritual communication, hearing noises that aren't really there."

"Apparently I'm not the only one who hears, and sees, things that aren't there," Marjorie said shrewishly.

"Don't be catty, darling," Ted said. "It doesn't suit your public image. Ellie, my pet, I hope you don't mind my dropping in. I told you I hate to drink alone." "Help yourself," Ellie said. She was glad to see Ted, although she knew he had come to find out more about the latest goings-on. He was a gossip, but he was genuinely fond of her--and he seemed to have a unique knack of getting under the thick skin of Marjorie Melody. That alone would guarantee him a welcome from Ellie.

"Of course I didn't mean that the way it sounded," Marjorie exclaimed. "I'm truly concerned for Ellen.

Spiritual evil ... As I was saying to Ellen, it almost seems as if someone has a grudge against our fine old families." "Then Ellie can't be suspect," Donald said bluntly.

"She doesn't even know who the old families are, much less any dirt about them." "There are books," Marjorie murmured. Then she looked up, wide-eyed and apologetic. "Oh, you know I don't think that, darling. I'm simply trying to prepare you for what certain evil-minded persons might say. Miss. Mary was telling me about an old book you bought for Kate--"

"She couldn't have gotten any juicy legends from that book," Ted interrupted. "It's the usual collection of pious lies. Your grandmother is prominently featured, Marge."

"Among the lies?" Marjorie showed her teeth.

"Ted, you're such a tease."

"Oh, I am, I am," Ted agreed. "But get one thing clear, Marge. Ellie is not inventing these stories.

Something is happening here; something quite out

124 Elizabeth Peters of the ordinary; and when it's finished this town may never be the same."

The words cast a shadow over the sunny kitchen.

For a moment no one spoke. Marjorie's face was unmasked; it was hard and lined and a little frightened.

The cats, lined up along the counter top, looked like a stiff Egyptian frieze. They were all staring at Marjorie.

The silence was broken by a scrabbling sound outside the door. Ellie got up.

"That must be Roger. I guess it's time I fed everyone."

"Roger Mcgrath?" Marjorie started. "Oh, God, you mean that horrible rat of Kate's. Don't let him in, Ellie, I'm terrified of rodents." "Wrong move, Marge," Ted said, grinning. "You should have let Roger enter; then you'd have an excuse for flinging yourself into someone's manly arms."

Marjorie glowered at him. Her brand of cattiness was no match for Ted's battering-ram tactics.

"I'll go out the back way," she said. "I must get home to the kiddies; they'll be wanting dinner."

"I'm sure your cook and nursemaid and butler and parlor maid have that problem under control," Ted said. He winked at Ellie, who was remembering a recent sermonette in which Marjorie Melody had rhapsodized about the joy of preparing wholesome home-cooked meals for one's darling children.

Yet she couldn't help admiring Marjorie's nerve.

The woman had been shaken by Ted's jeers and by the animals, which she clearly disliked (though a much-admired, often reprinted series of sermonettes described Marjorie's tenderness toward our Little Furry Four-Footed Brothers). But she paused to strike a pose, her chin lifted (it tightened those nasty sagging neck muscles), and her face turned in the three-quarter view with which readers of her column were familiar.

DEVIL-MAY-CARE 125

"Spiritual evil," she repeated musingly. "Yes, I feel it here. Ellen, dear child, remember that you can call on me at any hour. What small influence for good I may possess--in my humble reliance on God's mercy--is at your disposal."

She raised one hand in a gesture that was not quite a formal blessing, and bowed her elegant head.

Whether by design or accident, a ray of sunlight struck it so that her hair glowed like a nimbus. Ellie looked hard at the exposed roots, but was disappointed; Marjorie must take excellent care of her hair. Then, timing her move perfectly, she was out the door before Ted could spoil the performance with a caustic comment.

Ted circled the kitchen, dipping his fingers into his martini and flicking little drops of gin around the room.

"Ceremonial fumigation," he explained. "Isn't she revolting? I hate all my friends--present company and their relatives excepted--but I truly believe Marjorie is the utter end. Would you like to hear some stories about her grandam?"

Ellie opened the door for Roger, who deliberately sat down on the threshold and cleaned his whiskers, forcing her to hold the door like an obsequious servant.

"Move, you rat," she told him. "Who was her sainted grannie, Ted? Another of the town's distinguished citizens?"

"She wrote sermonettes too," Ted said dreamily.

"She had them published--first in little tracts, to be handed out to the helpless poor--then in a private limited edition bound in limp leather covers. I have a copy. When I'm feeling depressed I read it and laugh myself sick."

Donald began to help Ellie with the animal food for the evening meal. A hubbub outside the back door indicated that the dogs were assembling. They knew the schedule as well as the humans did.