“P-E-E-C-O-C-K.”
“P-E-A,” I said, giving Sister a hard look.
“Thanks. And you didn’t get to talk to her?”
“I tried, but she had trouble answering,” Sister said.
This time it was Officer Andrews who narrowed her eyes.
“Have you touched anything? Moved the body at all?”
“Lord, no, we haven’t moved the body.” I said. “The door was ajar and we called and came on in. I guess we touched
the doorknob and my sister was sick in the kitchen sink.” Officer Andrews smiled a little at this piece of news. “Oh, and I called you from the phone. Other than that, we’ve been out here.”
Lisa Andrews looked up, looked at the salmon-colored sky, the darkening bay water. “It’s a nice view, isn’t it?”
We hadn’t exactly been siting there admiring the view. But Lisa Andrews was right. Lights were being turned on along the beach and we could hear voices. I didn’t turn to see what was going on behind us, though I sensed busyness.
“Know anything about her family?”
“She was supposed to be visiting a sister in Savannah,” Mary Alice said. “She was a widow when she moved down here. I really don’t know.”
“Lisa!” A man called from inside.
“Coming!” She closed her notebook. “Listen, y’all go on home. I’ve got your address and phone numbers. You ladies might even do us a favor and stay home for a few days.” She turned and started into the condo. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Who’s going to tell Fairchild and the rest of her friends?” I asked.
“Y’all can do it if you want to.”
“Smartass,” Mary Alice muttered. I’m sure Lisa Andrews heard her.
We wasted no time getting out of there. Several people were crowded around the door, drawn by the commotion of the rescue vehicles and the sheriff’s department.
“Is something wrong with Emily?” an elderly woman asked.
“Dead,” Mary Alice announced. The spectators gasped, parting before her six feet, 250 pounds like the Red Sea before Charlton Heston.
“Lord, Sister,” I said, running to catch up. “You could
have been a little more tactful. That lady could have had a heart attack.”
Mary Alice hit the elevator button and looked back at the crowd. “You mean break it to them gradually? Like that old cat on the roof joke? Emily’s up on the roof?”
“Something like that.”
“Emily’s dead, Mouse. Dead as she’ll ever be. And I think I’m going to be sick again.”
Fortunately, that didn’t happen. Nor were we the ones who had to break the news to Fairchild about Emily’s death.
T
raffic was heavy between Emerald Waters and Gulf Towers; it seemed to take forever to get home.
“You okay?” I asked Mary Alice, who kept rubbing her hand across her throat.
“You mean am I going to pull a Pukey Lukey? No.” Pukey Lukey is a cousin of ours who was the bane of our vacations during our childhood. Show him a car and he got carsick.
“I’ll drive if you need me to.”
“My Jaguar? Good God, no!”
“It’s just a car,” I said huffily. “And I’m a damn good driver.”
“You’re a terrible driver.”
“I’m an excellent driver.”
“You’re not.”
“Yes, I am.” I felt the sting of tears. I wiped them away angrily.
We rode in silence for a few minutes. I closed my eyes and saw Emily Peacock’s sightless eyes staring through me, staring straight into the setting sun.
“I could never shoot myself,” I said.
“Me neither. And right on her new living-room sofa.” Mary Alice pulled into the turn lane. “Did you notice that floor in the foyer? I’ll bet that parquet’s going to be hard to keep up at the beach.” Mary Alice pulled into the turn lane.
“It looked like it had an acrylic finish on it.” I thought for a moment. “You know what? She was looking out at the bay. She wanted her last look at the world to be a beautiful one.”
“If she still thought the world was beautiful, how come she killed herself?”
I couldn’t answer that. My whole body felt heavy, achy, as if I were coming down with something. We parked, went into the lobby, and waited for the elevator.
“What are we going to tell Fairchild?” Sister asked. “No telling what this will do to his blood pressure.”
What was this “we” business? Then it just popped out: “You could tell him Emily’s on the roof.” In a moment the elevator opened and the young couple who got off were greeted by the sight of two old sisters hanging on to each other, laughing and crying.
The note on the refrigerator said that everybody was at The Flamingo and we should join them when we got in.
“The Flamingo? I don’t think so. Not tonight.” Mary Alice took the note down and threw it in the garbage. “I wish I had some ginger ale. Remember, Mouse, how Mama always gave us ginger ale when we were sick to our stomachs?”
“I could drive over to the grocery in your car and get you some.”
“A Coke will do.”
“I’ll fix it. I need one, too.”
When I brought the drinks out to the balcony, Sister said, “I’m serious. I don’t know how I’m going to tell Fairchild about Emily’s’s death. Do you think I ought to call the doctor downstairs to go with me?”
I handed her her Coke. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
“What’s his name?”
“I have no idea, but Eddie and Laura called him, didn’t they? Maybe he’s a personal friend.”
“Maybe.”
We sat quietly for a few minutes. There was still a tiny streak of orange on the western horizon.
“You know,” Sister said, “chances are that the two deaths are connected. I just don’t see how.”
“Emily was distraught about Millicent’s death and just couldn’t take it?”
“She didn’t even know about Millicent’s death.”
“Maybe she did. Maybe she was the one who killed her.”
Sister rolled her damp glass across her forehead. “Cut her throat like an animal? I don’t think so. Emily was one of the sweetest people in the world.”
“You can’t go by that.”
“I know.” Sister shivered.
“Did you get to talk to Major Bissell today?”
“No. He came late and left early.” Sister got up. “I’m going to get some aspirin.”
“Take it with some Maalox.”
“I’m taking it with some bourbon.” She went inside and pulled the sliding door shut. That’s why, a few minutes later, she didn’t hear the scream, a scream of such desolation and terror that I jumped straight up, the back of my neck tingling, my heart racing. The next scream sent me banging into the glass door, trying to find the handle, finding it and
almost falling inside. Mary Alice looked up, startled. “What’s the matter?”
I pointed to the balcony with one hand. The other held my heart in my chest.
“What?”
“Scream,” I managed to say.
“Oh, that’s just kids, Mouse. For heaven’s sake. They do that all the time.”
I shook my head no. Mary Alice looked at me questioningly and walked out onto the balcony. I stayed behind her.
“I don’t hear anything,” she said.
“It was a scream, damn it, right here.”
She came back in and shut the door. “A kid on one of the balconies. Probably on the floor below us.”
“I think it was next door in Laura’s apartment.”
“No one’s there. I just called.”
“Nobody would answer the phone if somebody was trying to kill them.”
“Get real, Mouse.”
Just at that moment there was a loud knock on the door. We both jumped a mile.
“Don’t open it,” I whispered.
“I’ll look before I do.” Mary Alice marched toward the door. “Damn,” she muttered, her eye to the peephole. “It’s that dickless Tracy.”
“And a good evening to you ladies again, too,” Officer Lisa Andrews said, stepping inside the foyer as Mary Alice opened the door. The evening dampness was doing a number on her curly hair, I noticed.
I almost threw myself on her. “Scream! Right next door. Something awful’s happening!”
Lisa Andrews backed up a couple of steps. “What?”
“For heaven’s sake, Mouse,” Mary Alice said. And then
to the officer, “It’s kids yelling. You know how it is in the summer. Patricia Anne’s just nervous.”
“I think the scream came from next door,” I said.
But I was ignored. Mary Alice turned to Lisa Andrews. “What do you want? We told you everything we know. We even came home, as you suggested so politely.”
“Have you already told Mr. Weatherby about Mrs. Peacock’s death?”
“No,” Sister admitted. “I’m worried about him. He doesn’t look well at all. We were going to see if we could get the doctor from downstairs to go with us.”
“What’s the doctor’s name?”
“I don’t remember. The Stampses next door would know but they’re not home.”
“Probably murdered,” I muttered.
Lisa Andrews smiled patronizingly at me. “I’ll check it out, Mrs. Hollowell.” And almost as an afterthought, “Mrs. Peacock left Mr. Weatherby a note.”
“A suicide note?” I asked. “Why would she leave it to Fairchild?”
Lisa Andrews shrugged, informing us that she would find the Stampses and Fairchild and tell them about Emily’s death. We didn’t argue with her.
“Might not hurt to have that doctor with you,” Mary Alice said.
Lisa Andrews nodded and informed us that she would get back to us later, that we should stay available. Sister closed the door behind her. “Pissant.”
“I’m just glad she’s the one telling them.”
“Yeah. I’ll go over after while and find out what’s in the note.” Sister sat on the sofa and propped her feet on the coffee table.
“Let her be the one who finds a third body.” I shivered.
“Kids, Mouse. They do it all the time.”
Another knock on the door. This time I looked through the peephole and saw Sophie Berliner. “It’s the child from down the hall,” I told Mary Alice.
“Some child!” Sister said.
But when I opened the door, I saw that Sophie did, indeed, look like a very young teenager. The black robe was gone, and in its place were jeans, sneakers, and a tee shirt with a picture of Homer Simpson on it. “Is Haley here?” she asked.
“She’s gone to The Flamingo for dinner. She should be back soon. Can I help you with something, Sophie?”
“Some turtles are coming in at Navarre! They’ve been spotted in the water, and Millicent and I were supposed to be on patrol tonight.” She paused. “Anyway, Daddy’s taking me, and Haley said she wanted to see them.”
Mary Alice had come up beside me. “They’re coming in to lay their eggs?”
“Yes, and I’ve got to go. But tell Haley maybe some will come in tomorrow night.”
“I will,” I assured her. “She’ll be sorry she missed it.”
“They’re so big!”
I looked at the child’s face, flushed with excitement, and realized for the first time that she was going to be a beautiful woman.
She turned toward the elevator. “I’ve got to go.”
“Sophie,” I said, “wait a minute. Did you hear somebody screaming a few minutes ago? A real, loud scream?”
She giggled. “That was me doing my Tarzan yell. Daddy was down on the stile and he knows when I do the yell, I need him.” She punched the elevator button. “Why? Did I scare you?”
“I was considering going to someone’s rescue.”
Sophie giggled again. The elevator opened and she stepped in, giving Sister and me a backward wave.
“See?” Sister said. “I told you it was a kid.”
She gloats when she’s right. “Think you can keep down some soup now?” I asked. “Some Chicken and Stars?”
She could, and so could I. In fact, I thought I had myself pretty much under control until Fred called to say he was home, at which time I took the phone into the bedroom, closed the door and bawled. I told him about finding Millicent’s body and how her throat was torn; I told him about finding Emily’s body and how her eyes had stared toward the water. “Oh, Fred,” I ended, sobbing.
“What?” he was saying, “What? Tell me again, honey.”
So I told him again, this time a little slower and a fraction more sensibly. When I finished, there was a long silence. Then Fred said, “I’m coming down there.”
It took me several minutes to convince him to wait until the next day, that I would worry too much about him driving down two-lane Highway 31 in the dead of night.
“Where is Haley?” he asked.
“At The Flamingo.”
“And Mary Alice?”
“She’s in the living room.”
“Y’all stay put. I’ll be down there tomorrow. You and I’ll stay at the Holiday Inn.”
Sister looked up from something she was writing when I came back in. “When’s the knight in shining armor arriving?”
“Tomorrow,” I admitted.
“I figured.” She closed her notebook. “What did he say?”
“He said to stay put until he gets here. He said we’d stay at the Holiday Inn.”
“Don’t be silly, there’s plenty of room here. But, Mouse, that man treats you like a child.”
“I know it,” I agreed. I wasn’t about to say how much better I felt just knowing he was coming. I nodded at the notebook. “What are you writing?”
“I’ve started a new short story. Gets my mind off things. They keep telling us we should write about what we know, so this is going to be about a manic-depressive man who marries two lesbian sisters. At different times, of course.”
“Of course. This is something you know?”
Sister grinned. “You bet. They live in Birmingham.”
I hoped she wasn’t serious.
She got up and announced that she was going to check on Fairchild and did I want to go? I didn’t. To my chagrin, she took the notebook with her. In a few minutes she was back with the news that the doctor had sedated Fairchild, that his blood pressure was soaring, and that Eddie was there and was comparatively calm. He had told her that the note from Emily said simply “Fairchild, forgive me.”
“For what?” I asked. “Killing Millicent?”
“That’s what it sounds like, doesn’t it?”
“Or does she want forgiveness for killing herself?”
The door opened and Haley called out, “Hey, y’all.” She came into the living room followed by Frances, Berry West, and the man I had seen Fairchild talking to on the stile the night we had walked back from the Redneck, the night before Millicent was killed. He was younger than I had thought that night, probably in his late fifties, but my view had been from above, and the light had been shining on what I had thought was a totally bald head. But there was no mistaking; this was the same man. I had seen his face several times as he looked up toward the apartments.
Berry hugged Sister and then me as I was introduced to
him. A handshake would have sufficed, but the hug was nice; he smelled like The Flamingo’s grilled grouper with an underlay of expensive soap.
The other man was Jason Marley, who had apparently accompanied them to dinner.
“I told Jason how much we loved his pink house,” Frances gushed.
“It’s unbelievable,” I said, truthfully, shaking his hand.
Sister pointed vaguely toward the chairs. “Y’all have a seat. Can I get anybody a nightcap?”
“You have any bourbon?” Berry asked.
“Sure.”
“Bourbon and water then.”
“Same for me,” Jason said.
“I’ll get it.” Haley headed for the kitchen while we sat down. “Why didn’t you and Mama come to The Flamingo, Aunt Sister?”