The Outsmarting of Criminals: A Mystery Introducing Miss Felicity Prim (12 page)

Miss Prim knew that Celia had up-ended her life to help her recover after the mugging, though Celia herself would never have
admitted it. Celia was the more free-spirited of the Prim sisters. While Miss Prim had maintained the most stable of lives, Celia had always been more prone to flights of fancy, becoming a private, live-in chef for this person (despite having no talent in the kitchen); flying off to take part in a dig in Iraq with that person (despite having no interest in archaeology and being intolerant of heat); taking part in a month-long regatta with yet another person (despite a tendency to become quite seasick). Of course, these various persons were all of the male variety. Celia’s appreciation of the opposite sex had driven Mama and Papa to distraction, but Miss Prim admired her sister’s willingness to follow her heart, despite its tendency to lead her into sometimes unwise decisions.

“Sister, let me look at you!” Celia exclaimed, breaking the embrace and holding Miss Prim at arm’s distance. “How marvelous you look! So svelte! And with such a glow! It must be this
New England air. And it goes without saying that nothing helps a woman’s complexion like knowing a suitor will simply
die
if she rejects him.” Of course Miss Prim and her sister had spoken about Doctor Poe’s recent admissions, and Celia, being Celia, had urged her sister to accept the doctor’s proposal immediately and worry about the consequences later.

“For you, Sister.” Miss Prim extended the mint lemonade
—or, as the girl had called it, the Junusakey lemonade. Celia squealed with pleasure.

As
Miss Prim began retrieving her sister’s dropped carpetbags, the conductor, who had returned to the train, watched them wistfully through a window.

“Have you conquered another heart?” Miss Prim asked, motioning with her eyes to the conductor.

“
Such
a lovely man, Sister, I cannot even tell you. I must say, life on the railroad seems quite fascinating. Paul has invited me to travel the full length of the train system with him, as he often does what he calls the ‘transcontinental run.’ Wouldn’t it be fascinating to see the heart of our country, as well as the hinterland? The only issue is that I become quite ill from the rattling of a train, but I suppose there are ways to overcome that with a strong mind and the proper diet.”

The two sisters walked to the Zap, Miss Prim struggling with the bags while her sister sipped the lemonade. Miss Prim’s task was not made an
y easier by Celia’s insistence on walking arm in arm with her, but, so delighted was Miss Prim at seeing her sister, she found all reason to be joyful and no reason to complain.

As they drove back to Greenfield, Miss Prim notice
d the death grip with which Celia held onto the dashboard. Celia had gone quite white in the face, her pupils turned to pinpricks with terror. Might Celia have developed a fear of automobiles, or was she simply unaccustomed to traveling in them?
This too shall pass
, Miss Prim thought, for Celia had a long history of developing inexplicable maladies that departed as quickly as they had arrived.

Back at the cottage, Celia stumbled out of the car and took a minute or so to find her legs. Then she straightened up and took in the view: the pleasant cottage with its
quasi-Tudor façade, the well-tended shrubberies and rose bushes, the barn, the ridge above and the woods behind.

“What can I say, Sister?” Celia
asked with wonder. “It is everything I expected it to be from the photos, and more. As always, your taste is simply flawless.” Miss Prim unlocked the door and Bruno bounded out, stopping respectfully at Celia’s feet, where he sat and promptly began licking her hand. The two became friends instantly.

As Celia settled into the guest room
—after providing many compliments on the cottage’s décor and ambience, a food that Miss Prim found altogether nourishing—Miss Prim began preparing the leek-and-onion quiche that had long been one of Celia’s favorite dishes. Celia emerged and began to set the table, knowing instinctively where Miss Prim stored the dishes and cutlery.

Miss Prim had not yet told Celia about their father’s love child, their missing half-sister. Nor had she broken the news about the dead man in her basement. Some news was just too delicate, too personal, to deliver over the telephone. Rather, she wanted to reveal her secrets over a good meal, for the sisters had a long history of sharing intimacies while dining together.

“Sister, I’ve determined what exactly makes the energy in this cottage so
right
,” Celia declared as she began uncorking the wine. “I know you are not trained in such matters, but you have the
feng shui
exactly correct. The site of the cottage is ideal, and the windows and doors are positioned to allow the natural spirits proper ingress and egress. Really, I think nothing bad could ever happen in this house. Now, make me wait no longer. Tell me all your secrets, and I shall tell you mine.”

Miss Prim began.

“Well, Sister, it has been a most eventful few days. Take this wooden star. You see that star-shaped impression next to the cupboard door? Fit the star in there properly and push. That’s exactly what I did, and you’ll never believe what I discovered …”

*

“Well, Sister,” Celia said, after Miss Prim had completed her narrative, “you certainly know how to make an impression when relocating! What I find most difficult to fathom is the …
appropriateness
of it all. Of course I am not suggesting that the poor man
deserved
to be murdered. But given your new career plans”—of which Miss Prim had spoken with her sister many times—“it does all seem rather … fortuitous. What I am trying to say, I suppose, is this: If the man
had
to be murdered and
had
to be dumped in somebody’s house, it is probably best that it was
your
house. I know you will not rest until you have brought the perpetrator to justice.”

“But Sister,” Miss Prim continued, “believe it or not, the body in the basement is not the only secret that this
cottage has revealed. This next secret is very personal, and it is of the utmost importance to both you and me. It is the reason I asked you quite urgently to pay a visit …”

Miss Prim related the tale of discovering her father’s journals again after they had been in storage for so many y
ears. She ended her narrative (throughout which Celia remained mostly, and uncharacteristically, silent) with, “So, you see, we have a task ahead of us. We must find Providence.”

Celia was resolute. “Of course I shall put everything else aside until we can locate her. What a gift this is for us
, Sister. I am quite overwhelmed.”

“I could not agree with you more,” Miss Prim replied. “But I am left with so many questions. Why would Papa not have shared this
blessed event with us? Why would he have orphaned Providence or allowed her to live without knowing the joys of our family and traditions? Can it be he was ashamed of his behavior? Or that he was ashamed of us, his own daughters? What could we have said or done to make him behave thus?” So strong were the emotions engendered by these questions that Miss Prim found her voice becoming quite wobbly. “Oh, Sister, there is a part of me that feels so betrayed by Papa! Since his death, I have treasured my memories of him, and our family, and everything we shared. But now I almost feel as though I never knew him.”

“You must not think thi
s!” Celia replied vehemently. “If there is
one thing
of which you and I can be sure in this life, it is our parents’ love. Papa had nothing to be ashamed of. As the journals make clear, Mama had been long departed when he found himself involved in the
amour
that led to the birth of our sister.”

“Do you think he did not tell us for fear we would reject
O.? That we would not embrace her because of our devotion to Mama?”

“That is not it, Sist
er. Of that I am sure. I distinctly remember conversing with him on this topic after Mama’s death. Several years after her passing, as I saw him looking lonely, I sat him down and assured him that he must not condemn himself to isolation. I know, Sister, you would not have had such a direct conversation with him, but I felt I must, so I took the proverbial bull by the horns. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that no man had better judgment, or better taste, in women. I also assured him that, should he find the right partner for his later years, you and I would welcome her as the dearest of friends. The poor main fairly wept with gratitude. So, no, I cannot, I
will not
, believe he would have kept our sister from us unless he had very good reasons for doing so. The journal refers to ‘A.’s and O.’s wishes.’ I can only assume that these people asked for Papa’s discretion. And Papa, being the man he was, respected their wishes, despite his misgivings.”

“Do you have any idea who A
. and O. might be?” Miss Prim asked. “I have been racking my brain to no avail. Of course, I shall go through all of the journals, line by line, to find hints. But given the number of journals, that may take some time.”

Celia Prim pursed her lips. “I cannot think of any likely candidates right now,” she admitted. “But I shall begin my research as soon as I return to the City. I exchange holiday cards with the children of some of Papa’s business associates, and I know that some of their parents are still with us. Why, Nathaniel Branson
lives only a few blocks from me, and I believe Miss Spry”—Papa’s longtime secretary—“is living quite happily in Westchester with the man she married in her seventies. Of course, this means I shall not be able to accept Paul’s kind offer—at least not yet—but the railroads have been with us for centuries. They can wait. A sister cannot.”

Thus in this, as in all important matters
, the sisters were in agreement, and a plan was made.

“Now,” said Celia, as Miss Prim poured the tea and retrieved cinnamon rolls from the refrigerator, “we must conclude the evening with some fun. This meal has been rather more intense than usual. Let us see what guidance the cards give us.”

Celia retrieved her well-worn tarot deck (which she’d bought in Lily Dale, New York, in the 1960s) from one of her bags. She asked Miss Prim to shuffle the cards and then laid them out in front of her sister, making small noises as she revealed each card. When the layout was complete, Celia took a sip of her tea and decreed, “There are many puzzling situations here, but also many prospects for happiness. Missing people everywhere! I see not one or two, but perhaps even three or four, missing children. And yet the presence of the Sun indicates that all will be found, with happy endings for almost all concerned. I fear that at least one of these children bears a heavy weight, but I think it is not our sister … no, as the Page of Cups suggests, our sister is quite a strong, independent woman on her way to great success in life. She is closer than we think, Sister! And what have we here? Well, if it is not a love triangle—with
you
at its center. I see you still have some untold secrets, Sister. Well, you will tell me about this mysterious suitor in your own time. He is the King of Swords, I see—a man with dark hair and light eyes. Oh yes, a deadly combination in the right man. He is a man of authority, with a strong but understated personality. It cannot be your Doctor Poe, whom I recognize here in the King of Pentacles. I see quite a challenge for you in resolving this, but the cards indicate that you will make the right choice.”

Celia paused a moment. “Just one thing, Sister. There i
s a somewhat worrisome aspect. Almost, but not quite, a bit of danger lurking near you. It is most likely emotional danger, but it could conceivably be physical danger. Please, dearest, do take the proper precautions. ”

To calm Celia’s fears,
Miss Prim told her sister about the protections afforded by the Laser Taser 3000.

*

It had been a long and somewhat tiring day, but there was still one task left to accomplish. Miss Prim had vowed she would call Doctor Poe before the day ended. So, while Celia engaged in her nightly beauty ritual, Miss Prim brewed another cup of tea and prepared to place a call to the doctor.

She had just made herself comfortable on the couch when the phone rang.

“Good evening, Rose Cottage,” Miss Prim said cheerily.

“Miss P
rim, is that you? Amos Poe here.”

Miss Prim had long appreciated Doctor Poe’s
old-fashioned and formal way of introducing himself. As Mama had always said, formal too long is infinitely preferable to informal too quickly.

“Yes, Doctor, it is I. I think our connection may not be the best. You sound somewhat crackly.”

The doctor made a sound of frustration. “It is this newfangled ‘smart phone’ that Norah made me purchase. It seems to be good for everything except actually having a conversation. And now she wants us to purchase computers for the office, too.”

“
I have been thinking about all of you, Doctor. How are Dolly, Zoroastria, Viveca? Has Mrs. Higgenbottom finally accepted the necessity of taking her medication?”

Thus followed a lively conversation, in which the doctor brought Miss Prim up to date on office events. In return, she regaled him with
selected details of Celia’s visit. She did not, however, mention the body in the basement (she did not wish him to worry) or the secrets revealed by her father’s journals (information best conveyed in person, not on the phone).