Pushing Up Daisies

CHAPTER 25

Only one eye was open when I heard the door downstairs. If Anna was here already, I’d overslept.

“Meez Paula?” she called.

“Up here,” I mumbled. A steady rain had fallen all night and was falling now. Maybe subconsciously I knew gardening was out, so I slept in.

Still in my jammies, I made my way to the kitchen and, zombielike, started the coffee. Anna put down her voluminous handbag and her packages and just stared.

“Don’t you need to grind those beans first? Why don’t you let me do that while you get dressed?”

I yawned and nodded. Fifteen minutes later, I was back. The smell of the coffee stoked my appetite. When Anna offered me one of her four heavily buttered Portuguese rolls, I wolfed it down.

“This is delicious,” I said, mouth stuffed.

“You need to eat more. You are too skinny.”

I repeated my mantra. “I’m not, I could lose a few.”

“Says who? Some magazine?” She pushed another roll toward me, but I passed.

“When the man holds the woman, he doesn’t want to feel bones. It’s true.” She nodded sagely, and who was I to question the words of an experienced courtesan?

Revived by the caffeine, my brain was functioning again. I reached for more coffee and noticed the time on the coffeemaker-6:34.

“Anna, isn’t this a little early for you?”

“I got a ride. I was waiting for the bus in the rain, and someone offered me a lift.” She mumbled something in Spanish and looked agitated.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” I asked.

“It is nothing,” she said. Anna lifted the coffeepot and offered me more, launching into the nonstop Spanish she knew I couldn’t keep up with. One thing I was able to understand, “Boca cerrada, no entran moscas.” Loosely translated it means, “Flies can’t enter a closed mouth.” Or “keep your mouth shut.” She retreated to my office and closed the door behind her. I kept my mouth shut; maybe she and Hugo had had a spat.

With all this rain, gardening was definitely out; tramping around in the muck isn’t good for the soil, and anything planted in this goop probably wouldn’t survive. Instead, I decided to tackle a less pleasant but necessary task.

Guido Chiaramonte’s heavy machinery-the chipper and the riding mower-had already been returned, but I still had a lot of smaller items that belonged to him. Hand tools mostly-dibbles, augers, coas-many more than I had reason to own in my one-woman operation. I dreaded it, but I’d bring them back myself.

It was too early to leave for either Halcyon or Guido’s, and I’d started to regret Anna’s buttered roll, which was already settling on my hips, so I embarked on another less pleasant but necessary task-cardio. By my calculations and according to the heart- rate monitor Lucy had given me, I’d need fifty minutes on the rowing machine to work off that baby, and I dreaded it. Cardio was boring. The best experience I’d ever had on a rowing machine was the time I accidentally caught Ben-Hur on television and did my workout to the chant of ramming speed, but I didn’t own the movie and thought it unlikely I’d get lucky twice.

I bailed after thirty minutes and went a few rounds with the punching bag. The smack of leather hitting leather brought Anna out, armed with a heavy- duty stapler-God knows what damage she could inflict with that thing-but she quickly retreated when she saw it was just me and not a return visit from our prowler.

She was still sequestered in my office by the time I was ready to leave. My anorak hung over the banister. I grabbed it and my keys and yelled to her that I’d be back after lunch. I rooted through the backpack to make sure I had the cell.

“If Hugo or Felix calls they can reach me on the cell, okay?”

“Sн, sн, sн, but I am leaving soon.” Then more Spanish too fast for my gringo brain to decipher.

The rain had eased from blinding to driving. At Halcyon, a black Lincoln I recognized as the Stapleys’ was parked at the side of the house. I called out for Richard a few times, but was eager to get out of the rain, so I hustled over to the green house and started packing up Guido’s tools. Early on, Hugo had cleverly suggested we put colored tape on the handles of anything we’d borrowed to make sure it was returned to its rightful own er. I picked through two large Rubbermaid containers for tools with orange tape on the handles, Guido’s color. I peeled off the tape, and gave them each a swipe with an oiled rag before loading his into a single container.

The rain had picked up again, and the sound of it on the green house roof was like artillery fire. Or what I imagined artillery fire was like. But I still had an hour to spare, and nothing more to do, so I ran from the greenhouse to the never-locked back door. Inside the mud-room I shook off the anorak and stamped the rain from my shoes, checking the time again. Not enough time to start a new project but too much time to spend with Guido Chiaramonte.

Looking around the tiny room for a second time, I noticed the small framed needlepoints were bordered with roses. I made a mental note to look up the quotes; even without knowing their origin, the sentiments about sisterhood were moving.

I went inside the house and up the stairs to Dorothy’s library. As soon as I entered, I could sense something was different. The fine layer of dust that had covered everything when Neil and I were there was disturbed. Not cleaned, just… handled. The library table, the globe, the books themselves, everything was slightly askew. Then I noticed one of the needlepoints was missing. So were three or four books.

I’d mentioned to someone there might be rare books here but couldn’t remember to whom or whether I might have been overheard. I searched for The Temple of Flora. Right where I left it. Since that was arguably the most valuable book in the library, robbery didn’t seem a likely motive. Was there really a journal as Neil seemed to recall? And was something in it someone wouldn’t want found? I walked to the bookcase where the shelf had been cleared out, and hunkered down to see.

“Looking for something?”

I turned around quickly, slamming my shoulder into the solid oak bookcase.

“Richard! You startled me. I didn’t hear you.”

“Horrible weather. I’m surprised you’re out in it.” He shook out his hat and rolled down the cuffs of his pants. Standing there quite still, face dripping wet, he made me nervous. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

“I was just getting in out of the rain,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. “I’m on my way to Chiaramonte’s, but I had some time.” He stood motionless and said nothing.

I worked my way around the library table to the side near the door. “Have you seen this?” I pointed to The Temple of Flora. “It’s amazing. I understand there are only twenty or so in the world. The original plates were destroyed after an auction. To make the books more valuable,” I babbled.

“That’s a clever investment strategy. Anything else of interest?”

“No. I just happened to notice the book because a copy was on display at the New York Botanical Garden. I kept meaning to go see it. I thought maybe the Peacocks had a journal or diary-you know, like The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady,“ I joked.

“You know, strictly speaking, we never discussed your needing to enter the house.”

I started to explain that I’d called SHS, then decided I didn’t want to get Inez in trouble.

“I hope it’s not a problem.” He didn’t answer.

“The insurance company isn’t scheduled to come for another few weeks, but I’ve been downstairs all morning trying to inventory anything of value. China mostly. I just ran out for a coffee before starting on this room.” He thumbed through the copy of The Temple of Flora. “Thank you for telling me about this, although it’s likely just a reproduction,” he said, turning the book over in his hands.

Richard’s cheery manner from the other day had vanished, and in its place was the clipped, supercilious tone I’d experienced that first day at SHS. Okay, maybe he was bipolar. Maybe he thought I’d stolen something. I thought of the book I’d borrowed and wondered when I could sneak back in to replace it without Richard’s knowing.

“Don’t let me keep you,” he said. “And give Chiara-monte my regards.”