Set the Stage for Murder (10 page)

“And you were … serious about Juliet?” Ed asked.

“Yeah. I mean my feelings were – are – serious, but we’re not even dating, not really. Crazy, isn’t it? There’s just something clean and sweet about her, something so different from the rest of the crap in my life. It’s hard to explain. I know I sound stupid.”

“
You don’t sound stupid,” Ed said, looking back at the pretzel man. “There was a girl like that in my life once. I figured I wasn’t good enough for her so I just stopped the whole thing. She never even knew why.” He looked back at his son. “But you, kid, you’re good enough for anyone and I’ll take out anyone who says otherwise. How did Juliet find out about this girl?”

“
She doesn’t know about her; not yet.”

“
What do you mean she doesn’t know? I thought you said it was over.”

“
It is. If I don’t leave Julie alone, forever, she’ll find out about what I’ve done.”

“
Kid, are you saying someone’s blackmailing you? What kind of person would … well shit, it’s Roz, isn’t it? Roz is blackmailing you to keep you away from Juliet. Ed Cortez’s kid isn’t good enough for her daughter, is that it?”

“
God Dad, this isn’t about you!” Connor exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table, scattering silverware and spilling coffee. “It’s about me. Get it? Me!”

God, Cortez, don’t blow this, thought Ed. Not when the kid turns to you for help. “I’m sorry kid. I just meant that you’re probably being punished for my sins. It’s not right. It makes me sick.”

“
No, I’m the one that screwed up. This time I did it all by myself.” Connor looked at his father and smiled slightly. “I wish I could blame you for this mess, but I’m afraid it’s all mine.”

“
Well you’re not in it alone. Not this time.” Ed looked at the check and pulled out his wallet, suddenly feeling confined by the smallness of the diner. “Roz may have made the first move, but the game isn’t over, not by a long shot.”

“
Dad, please don’t do anything. Roz could get me into a lot of trouble. I could go to jail.”

“
Kid, you’re not going anywhere. I’ll see to that. And you just leave Rosamund Whiting to me, you hear?” Ed Cortez gave his son an uncharacteristic kiss on the top of his head and walked out of the diner, leaving Connor wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

Chapter 9

Teddy loaded the back of his convertible with paper bags full of fresh-picked local corn and two boxes of homemade brownies. He finished the brownie he’d swiped from the box, licked his fingers, and got back into the car with a feeling of total satisfaction. As far as he was concerned, a stop at the Follyville General Store wasn’t just an option, it was an absolute necessity. He never drove to the house without visiting the tiny little establishment and inspecting what it had to offer. Without fail, there would be fresh local produce, good coffee, and delectable baked goods.

Follyville, located on the river only a mile from the estate, had started out as a train stop for those visiting Lenore’s Folly. Eventually, with the advent of automobiles and the construction of a larger depot a few miles downriver, the station had become obsolete and ceased to operate. But by that time, a general store had been built to service not only the estate but other area rural residents as well. The store didn’t get a lot of business, but it managed to stay afloat, partially because at some point in the mid-twentieth century it had become a U.S. post office. The store had been through a series of owners over the years, the most recent being Betty Van Allen, a retired schoolteacher and terrific baker, who bought the place in the late ‘90s. Teddy’s commitment to stopping each time he traveled to the estate had as much to do with his affection for Betty as it did his need for supplies. Still, he was pretty sure that he had absolutely needed that brownie.

Betty stood in the open doorway of the store and waved. “You be a good boy, Teddy, and tell your mother that the girls are playing poker Saturday night. Tell her I’d just love to take her money, if she’s up for it.”

“I’ll tell her, Betty, but you know how tight she is when it comes to cards,” Teddy said laughingly.

“Oh, I know all about it. She’ll donate three million to the local library without batting an eye, but spend fifteen minutes deciding whether or not to put down a nickel on a full house. She’s something else, that one.”

“Yes, she is. I’ll give her your regards.” Teddy drove away, watching in his rearview mirror as Betty brought out a watering can and tended to the bright pink geraniums that grew in the boxes lining the porch. She moved slowly but with an energy that belied her ninety two years. Betty was something else, too, he thought, breathing in the scent of freshly mown grass, while the midsummer sun penetrated ancient trees and dappled the hood of his car. The gardeners were clearly working on the other side of the brick-and-iron fence that ran by the road and encompassed Lenore’s Folly. He turned into the drive and came to a stop while Sam came out and opened the massive wrought-iron gate. Ever since the attempted kidnapping of Phoebe, Teddy had employed security officers to man the gatehouse and patrol the grounds. Sam Barrow normally manned the gate during the day. Sam was a local boy made good. After attending Penn State on a football scholarship, he had been drafted by the NFL but only played one year because of a knee injury. He went home, married his high school girlfriend, and joined the sheriff’s department where he worked for twenty five years before retiring, five years ago. It hadn’t taken him long to come to the conclusion that fifty two was too young to sit around and do nothing, so he’d jumped at the chance to work for the McDowells. He was fit as any man half his age and an imposing figure at 6’2” and 220 lbs. Teddy figured that as long as you were going to have security guards, they might as well look the part.

“Hello Sam,” Teddy said. “Everything okay?”

“Yes sir, Mr. McDowell. Things are pretty slow today. I suppose it’s the calm before the storm.” He opened both gates and walked over to Teddy. “Your mother arrived about an hour ago. She said you’ve got a houseful of folks coming for the weekend.”

“
Indeed we do. Although I’m trying to remember why I thought it was such a good idea.”

“I’m sure you’ve got your reasons, Mr. McDowell. I’ll be around until midnight every day and then Ken comes on duty. If you need anything, just let us know.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Teddy said, shifting the car into gear. “I’ll send down a guest list for you to have just to make things easier. A lot of the guests have been here before, so you’ll know them.”

“I suspect I’ll recognize the rest of them from television, won’t I, Mr. McDowell?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Just between you and me, Sam, you’ll probably know some of them from the tabloids at the supermarket checkout. However, I’ll deny ever having said that.”

Sam laughed as he moved out of Teddy’s way. “My lips are sealed, Mr. Mac. And don’t you worry, those paparazzi won’t get past me.”

Teddy made his way along the curving tree-lined path, slowing down for the occasional rabbit or squirrel crossing. To his left was a small man-made lake surrounded by a winding, graveled path that eventually led to a Japanese teahouse. Evidently Japanese teahouses had been all the rage at one point and some McDowell, not to be outdone by a Vanderbilt or a Rockefeller, had promptly installed one lakeside. It also served as a dock for the small wooden rowboat that stayed on the lake. His mother often rowed in the little boat for exercise.

Just past the lake, the road curved to the right and rose so that when one came to the top of the small hill, the main house was revealed in all its splendid glory. That was what the architect had intended, at any rate. What he had achieved was something a bit more foreboding than splendid. There was no denying that it was an imposing structure. It was a three-story, dark gray stone-edifice, slightly Georgian in style with Victorian elements. In Teddy’s opinion it looked good only at night with all the lights ablaze. Other than that, it was downright spooky. His mother and her gardeners had done a wonderful job of landscaping, using colorful plantings to alleviate some of the gloom, but in all honesty, it was a losing battle.

The main road ended in a circular drive in front of the house, but Teddy took a small lane that forked to the right through the woods, circumventing the main house. After a quarter of a mile, he entered a clearing and smiled as he gazed upon his and Vicki’s home. In direct contrast to the main house, this Victorian structure, while almost as large, was an inviting confection of a house. It was perched on a hill so that all the land behind it rolled gently down to the cliffs above the river.

Ethan was planting one of the front flowerbeds, as Clementine sniffed around, apparently supervising his handiwork. She looked up as soon as she heard the car and came running when she saw Teddy get out of the car. He kneeled down and received multiple kisses.

“
Hi there, girl. Miss me?”

“
Yes, she did. And so did this girl,” Vicki said as she opened the screen door and bounded down the steps. She threw her arms around her husband and kissed him, but immediately broke away from his embrace and headed for the car. “You’ve been eating brownies. Where are they?”

“
Ouch, that hurts,” Ethan said laughingly.

“Marc,” Vicki yelled, perusing the backseat of Teddy’s car. “Evidently, you’re making something out of fresh corn.”

“Hey,” Teddy whispered, glancing over his shoulder toward the house. “You’ve got to finesse these things a little more than that. Marc has got to think it’s his idea.”

Marc walked out onto the porch with his hands on his hips. “So the lord of the manor went shopping, did he?”

“It’s just a little corn,” Teddy said, sheepishly. “It just looked so good, I couldn’t pass it up.”

Marc walked down the front steps and approached the car warily. He reached into one of the bags and took out an ear of the fresh corn. After giving it a thorough inspection, he said, reluctantly, “Well, lucky for you, I was planning crab cakes for an appetizer tomorrow night. I suppose I can incorporate the corn in some fashion.”

Teddy bowed extravagantly. “I’ll forever be in your debt, Chef Denby.”

Vicki, having broken into one of the brownie boxes was halfway through one of the treats and offering the box to Ethan, while Clementine danced at her feet. “It’s always good to be reminded of who is really in charge around here,” she said with a laugh, sitting on the porch step. “None for you, Clem. They’re not good for puppies. Which is good, because that leaves more for us big dogs.”

Teddy sat on the step above his beautiful, brown-haired wife and encircled her in his arms, licking the chocolate covered finger she offered.

“Leave it for the bedroom,” ordered Marc. “I know you haven’t seen each other for a couple of days, but spare the rest of us your reunification love-making.” He picked up Clementine and scratched her head. “And don’t forget there’s a young, impressionable mind present.”

“I hate to break it to you, Marc, but you’re not that young anymore,” Teddy said with mock seriousness, causing Vicki and Ethan to laugh.

“I was referring to Clem,” Mark said, casting a withering look toward Teddy. “And what do you mean, I’m not that young? I’m still in my thirties, which is more than I can say for some of us.” He cast a slightly victorious look toward Vicki and Ethan.

Teddy nodded and made a show of considering Marc’s comment. “You’re correct, of course. Although thirty nine is very
close
to not being in your thirties anymore. It’s really much closer to being in your forties, and in reality, much closer to the end of your life. I have to admire the way you’re grasping at your almost lost youth and completely ignoring the dark abyss that stretches before you. Bravo.”

“I’ll bet he’s sorry he started this,” Ethan said to Vicki in a stage whisper. “He hates it when the ‘forty’ number is mentioned.”

“
I hate all of you except for Clem and I’m not cooking that corn,” Marc announced, getting up from the porch steps and heading back inside the house. As the screen door slammed behind him, the rest of them burst into laughter. “Oh, and by the way,” he said coming right back out on the porch, “Phoebe called and invited all of us to dinner up at Dark Shadows tonight. That means dress nice and be on your best behavior. She’s a proper lady and runs a proper household up there. Not like this slipshod operation we’ve got here.” And with that, he disappeared into the house leaving the others still laughing.

Ethan gathered his planting supplies, along with his kneeling pad, and put them in a wicker basket. “Vicki, how about we walk the gardens later and pick out what we need for arrangements?” Clementine’s ears perked up as she gave Ethan a quizzical look. Ethan grinned and squatted down to her level, scratching her head. “Yeah, Clem, you’re welcome to come along, if you like.”

“
As if we could get away without her,” Vicki said. “That sounds good, Ethan. I noticed those green “Envy” zinnias in the cutting bed. Are they ready?”

“Some of them. Certainly enough for the dining room.”

“Ethan,” Teddy said, “I don’t mean to bring up a delicate subject but … ”

“But how’s the play coming?” Ethan interrupted, smiling wryly. “Well, let’s just say I’ve had a lot of time to tend to the gardens lately. Maybe I’m in a thinking phase.” He rose and gathered his basket of tools. “I’ve been writing for twenty years,” he said, shaking his head, “and I’m as confused about the process as I ever was. It’s still a mystery to me. Meet you in a little bit, Vicki?”