The Angel Whispered Danger (23 page)

“What about Casey?” he said.

“Casey’s a gardener. He’d know better than to shock the root system like that . . . look what it’s done to the bush. Besides, I heard Uncle Ernest tell him to stay away from the rose garden.”

“How’s Josie?” Grady asked. “Her foot any better?”

“Swelling’s down some, thanks. She has poison ivy, though.” I started walking back. We were only a few yards from the house; nothing could happen to me here, yet that feeling of unease persisted.

Walking along beside me, Grady must have sensed it. He put out a hand to stop me. “Wait a minute, Kate. Something’s wrong. What is it?”

I tried to laugh. “You mean other than we all spent the night roaming around the mountain and somebody pushed Ella into a ravine? Not to mention the skeleton they dug up next door and the yellow jackets that attacked Belinda.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to mention that.”

When Grady grinned, he looked and sounded so much like his old self I had to laugh. But now he turned serious. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you, Kate?”

“What? Don’t be silly! Of course not. What a thing to say!”

“Yes, you are. I can tell. What’s the matter? You think I did in poor Ella?”

We walked to a bench beneath the scuppernong arbor and he sat and put his head in his hands. “Just tell me what it is, will you?
Please?
”

I sat beside him and pulled his hands away. “It’s just that . . . well, you said something the other day that made me wonder, that’s all.”

“When? Said what? You mean when I told you about my . . . father?”

“No, not that, although that did come as kind of a shock. You described Beverly’s apartment, Grady, when you said you’d never been there.” I glanced at the back porch. No one was there. And Augusta? She was probably somewhere shepherding Penelope.

“I see.” My cousin linked his fingers together and stared at the earth between his feet. He didn’t speak again for a while.

My mind went crazy. This is where the murderer says,
And now no one need ever know
. . . as he chokes the victim. I hoped my wandering husband would turn up sometime soon to take care of Josie in case Grady took a notion to do away with me. The idea was so ridiculous, I almost laughed.

“You’re right, I
was
there,” Grady said finally. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone. There didn’t seem to be any reason . . .”

“You were there when Beverly died?”

“No! No, I drove up there a few weeks before. Didn’t mention it to anybody—it was a spur of the moment thing, but Bev and I hadn’t seen each other in . . . well, years really. We’d talked over the phone for hours, and everything seemed to click between us—almost like it used to. I just needed to see her, to be with her, and Bev felt the same.” Grady pulled a leaf from the scuppernong vine and rolled it between his fingers.

“So, how did it go?” I asked.

He took a deep breath and dropped the leaf to the ground. “Okay, I guess. It was good to see her again. We went out to dinner, had some wine. She told me about her work and what she planned to do when she got her degree. We talked about old times . . .”

“And?” I waited.

“And . . . nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?” I asked.

“Just that. We had a pleasant time together, but that was all. There wasn’t any chemistry between us. It was gone—zilch!”

“Do you think she felt the same way?”

Grady shook his head. “Don’t know. It’s hard to say. Bev seemed eager to be back in North Carolina, closer to her family and all that, and I’m sure she was glad to see me. To tell the truth, I was so disappointed after building this all up in my mind, I didn’t pay much attention to how Beverly reacted. I was disgusted with myself for dragging it out like that, for wasting all those years hoping someday Bev would change her mind.”

“And when she did, you didn’t want her?”

“Something like that. Frankly, I was hoping Bev felt the same so it would save me the embarrassment of going through all that. Kate, you must think I’m a real jerk.”

“You can’t help how you feel,” I said. “So that’s how you knew about her apartment, how small it was and where it was located.”

He nodded. “Right. That place was out in the boonies.”

“Grady, while you and Bev were talking, did she mention having a quarrel with anyone?”

“Not that I can think of. Why?”

“She didn’t seem afraid or suspicious of anybody at the university or maybe somebody she worked with?”

Grady got to his feet. “Why are you asking me this, Kate? Is there something I don’t know?”

I was explaining that the police there thought Beverly’s death wasn’t an accident when Uncle Ernest drove up. Once he’d gotten out of the car, he barely nodded to us as he approached; his pace was slower than usual and his hair looked as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. My uncle seemed to have aged five years in the last few days.

I knew it probably wasn’t the proper time to ask him, but I had to know. “Uncle Ernest, it looks like somebody dug up something under one of the rose bushes. Did you know about that?”

He looked at me as if he didn’t understand. “What, Kate?”

“The rose bush—the pink one in the back. Somebody’s been digging under there. Looks like they tried to put it back so nobody would know.”

He took a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, and it occurred to me that Ella must have ironed that handkerchief. “Let’s don’t worry about that right now, Kate, and I’d just as soon you stay away from the garden for now.”

I nodded. I felt like a little girl with her hand in the cookie jar. “I’m sorry about Ella, Uncle Ernest. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s all taken care of. Service is tomorrow at three—Presbyterian church, of course.” It surprised me when my uncle smiled. “Ella left instructions, you know—had everything written out. And guess what hymn she wants? ‘Shall We Gather at the River’! And her terrified of water!”

I left Grady to mull over what I had told him about Beverly and followed my uncle inside where Violet waited in the kitchen. She had a tall glass of sweet tea ready with lemon and mint, just the way Uncle Ernest liked it, and before the man had a chance to do otherwise, Violet had him seated at the table. She pulled out a chair and plopped down across from him, then indicated that I was to do the same.

“Kate and I are concerned about Maggie, Ernest,” she began in a confidential whisper. “She’s uneasy, you know, living alone with all that’s been going on.”

My uncle glanced at me and I repeated what Violet had said.

He drained his glass and waited while Violet refilled it. “I never knew Maggie to be the nervous type,” he said.

Violet smoothed her purple hair and patted his hand. “Well, of course, she won’t let on, but I know she’s been awake half the night.”

I almost laughed. My grandmother usually slept like a rock.

“We were thinking, since she’s alone over there it might help her to get a good night’s rest if you were to stay with her—for tonight at least. We have Lum and Grady here with us and I’ll be sleeping on the cot—just until this passes over.”

Uncle Ernest took off his glasses and polished them. I doubt if he’d been out of his own bed more than two or three times in the last forty years. He was not a happy man. “You want me to stay tonight at Maggie’s?” He sighed. “Well, Violet, if you really think it would help—”

“Oh, I do, I do!” For a minute I thought she might hug him, but Violet restrained herself. “But don’t let on to anybody about this, please. It would embarrass Maggie for anybody to know she’s having these problems. You know how independent she pretends to be.”

My uncle nodded numbly. I wanted to jump up and run. Surely lightning would strike us at any moment! If my grandmother ever found out what we had done, Violet and I would really have something to worry about!

A few minutes later I heard Violet telling Ma Maggie that Ernest was concerned about her staying alone and insisted on being with her that night.

“Why, I’m perfectly all right by myself. Ernest knows that.” My grandmother spoke a little too loudly and Violet made even more noise trying to shush her.

“He wants to do this, Maggie. He’s your brother, he worries about you. One night isn’t going to kill you, so just humor the man, will you?” I could tell Violet was losing her patience.

“Oh, all right, but I’ll have to make up the bed in my guest room. I just hope I can find the sheets!” Ma Maggie grumbled. “And for the last three nights some idiot woman has been calling me at four in the morning asking to speak to somebody named Homer Earl. I keep telling her there’s no Homer Earl there, but she can’t seem to get it through her thick skull! Hope Ernest doesn’t mind losing out on his sleep.”

“And please don’t say anything to him or anybody else about this, Maggie,” Violet said. “He’d hate for everybody to know he’s such an old worrywart. Promise it will be our secret.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, all right!” My grandmother waved her away. “But I think you’re both about three pickles shy of a quart.”

She doesn’t know the half of it
, I thought.

If there had been a way to hide from Deedee, I would have done it, but neighbors bearing food had already started to pour in and I had to mingle and be polite. Uncle Lum and Casey rummaged around to find extra tables to hold all the cakes and pies, and Ma Maggie was trying her best to keep a record of who brought what. Uncle Ernest’s neighbor Goat had just brought over a huge basket of fruit and I was trying to find a place to put it when Deedee appeared from behind an arrangement of red gladiolus and whisked it out of my hand.

“Here, let’s put it in the middle of the table,” she said, shoving aside a graceful centerpiece of hydrangeas, roses and Queen Anne’s lace the florist had delivered earlier.

“Let’s not,” I said, and setting things the way they were, I moved the basket to the buffet. A vase of pink carnations sat on the table by the door and a billowy multicolored arrangement from Ella’s circle at the Presbyterian church cascaded from the mantel. The house was beginning to smell like a funeral parlor and I tried to avoid even looking at the spray of purple artificial flowers with a toy telephone in the center bearing the message
Jesus called!

Deedee fiddled with a dish of cookies, turning it this way and that. “So . . . how’s the runaway this morning? Feeling better?”

“
Josie’s
all right,” I said. “I think she came through just fine after spending a night alone in the woods. She’s a brave little girl and I’m proud of her.”

“I noticed you and Grady were alone all night, too!” My cousin snickered—she actually
snickered
!—I don’t know any other way to describe it. “That must have been interesting. Wonder what Ned will think about that.”

“In the first place we weren’t alone together, although if we had been it wouldn’t have made any difference. And I’m sure Ned will just be relieved that we all found our way back home.”

“You mean he doesn’t know?” Her eyes narrowed. “Where is Ned, Kate?”

Thank heavens Aunt Leona came between us just then on her way to the kitchen with a dish in her hands. “Gracious, look at all these sweets! And here we have another lemon meringue pie. I don’t know what we’ll do with it all.”

I had a good notion of what to do with that pie but it would’ve been a terrible waste and then I’d have to clean the floor. Deedee must have guessed what I was thinking because she stepped back and put a Boston fern between us.

“What do you suppose is going on with Uncle Ernest?” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“He
says
he sent Belinda away for her safety but nobody knows where she is. It’s just peculiar, that’s all.”

“I think that’s the point—that nobody knows where she is,” I said, looking around for a way out.

“Yes, well, there was that incident with the bees, you know, and then all of a sudden, she’s
gone
.” Deedee glanced behind her and leaned closer. “The police have been asking questions, too, since they found that skeleton over there in the cemetery.” She shrugged. “Haven’t you ever wondered what really happened to Rose?”

Cousin Violet took that opportunity to announce to one and all that she thought she
knew
who was behind all the things going on around here.

The room became as quiet as if she’d asked for organ donors. Judge Kidd, who had been dribbling salted nuts into his mouth, stopped with his hand in midair; Ma Maggie’s glasses slid down her nose and Grady and Casey, who had been shifting furniture about to make room for everybody, dropped a heavy armchair somewhere near my foot.

Deedee looked at me and rolled her eyes, and Uncle Lum and Aunt Leona just tried to laugh it away.

Uncle Ernest wandered in about then with the guest book he’d brought from the funeral home and wanted to know why everybody was so quiet.

“Cousin Violet says she knows who killed Ella and hid Belinda’s purse!” Deedee told him, not even trying to supress her giggles.

“What about that skeleton, Violet?” Goat spoke up. “Reckon you know who put that there, too.”