Scarlet Fever

CHAPTER 9

March 4, 2019 Monday

“You’ve had your hair lightened.” Sister squinted at Jean Roberts.

“No I haven’t. That’s gray mixed in with the blond.”

“I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t,” Sister fired back to laughter.

Marion, Roni, Martha Kelley, Suzann Strong, and Debbie Cutter crowded around the desk in the main office to eat a delivered lunch. Marion, overloaded with work, had wanted to see Sister but lacked time for one of those wonderful leisurely lunches. So the girls ordered in and sat around as Jenny Young manned the front desk, running back and forth to the back room. As it turned out, their timing was good. Only a few people straggled in on a cold rainy day during lunch hour. Courtney Nashwinter and Emily Kendrich remained downstairs, as they’d had an early lunch. Given the expensive tack downstairs, someone needed to be there.

“Is this rain ever going to stop?” Debbie wondered.

“Only if we build an ark,” Suzann quipped.

“As the oldest person here I go on record to swear this is the wettest six months I have ever lived through. Started during cubbing. You all know I hate to cancel a hunt and I’ve canceled plenty, including Saturday’s,” Sister said.

“What a downpour.” Jean nodded. “We didn’t take the bassets out yesterday. Can you imagine trying to run with the mud up to your ankles?”

“Miserable,” Roni agreed.

“You are the only person who has been in here since Harry Dunbar was found who hasn’t asked about it.” Jean wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I know you want to know.”

Sister sighed. “A loss. I so liked him.”

Roni was the first person on the scene after the cop showed up. “We all did. He was a good customer.”

“Tell me everything.” Sister leaned back in her chair, knowing “the girls” wanted to talk.

Marion interjected, “Here’s the thing. I’ve heard this ad nauseum but I’m starting to think like a law enforcement officer. Listen carefully. Are any details changed or has a newer memory popped up? In crisis people do forget things.”

“True,” Sister agreed.

“I have no story to tell. That was my half day,” Martha Kelley added.

“Aren’t you glad?” Suzann asked.

“Of course I’m glad,” Martha replied.

“All right. You first, Roni.”

“Actually, Shirley Resnick found Harry at the foot of the stairs. You don’t know her. She’s the registrar at the courthouse and always goes to work early. Anyway, there he was. She called the police. They called Marion but I came in a half hour early that day so I actually got here first.”

“And?” Sister inquired.

“And, who knows? The night before there was nothing unusual. Dark and cold outside. I locked up the store. If someone was hanging around I think I’d have known.”

“Wait. Let’s be orderly.” Jean took over. “Roni and I, on Tuesday, February 26, were the last ones in the store. I left a bit after six as I had an Ashland Basset meeting. Roni was downstairs, I called that I was leaving and I did. Earlier, Harry had walked through the store, looking at the silver, then he went downstairs. We left together, going our separate ways.”

To the sounds of paper plates hitting the metal wastebasket, Jean remembered. “That new Melton he ordered. The one tailored perfectly. He asked about it. I said it would probably be ready next week. As always he had energy, noticed everything.”

Marion nodded. “Harry bought a heavy-weight Melton with satin lining. Waterproof. Lovely cut. Only needed a tiny nip along the sides to be sleeker. Even the length of the arms was fine. With the tailoring, almost nine hundred dollars. But those things last.”

“The good stuff does. I still wear a vest of my grandfather’s,” Sister agreed. “What will you do?”

“Sell it in the store, I guess. What really costs is the top hat, those run five hundred and ninety-five dollars,” Suzann said.

“His top hat was fine,” Jean interposed.

“Because he took care of everything. The only reason he bought a new coat was that the seams finally gave way on his old coat, which was used when he bought it. I suspect the coat was about sixty years old, that heavy cavalry twill.” Marion appreciated fabrics.

“Can’t find heavy twill now. Have to buy it used. Coats. Breeches. Drives me crazy,” Jean remarked. “We are out there in all kinds of weather, rain, snow, sleet. We do better than the Postal Service. Nothing is as good as the old stuff. That’s why Harry wore his old coat until the threads gave way, I swear. There really is no such thing as improvement in hunt clothing.”

Marion slightly shook her head. “Yes there is, Jean. The coats for hot weather are better. Well, they are new, really. We didn’t used to have the heat we now have during cubbing. It’s crazy, isn’t it, the weather? Anyway, I found heavy twill.”

They all nodded.

“Back to Harry. Did he appear sober? He could put the stuff away but he wasn’t a drunk. Just wondering.”

“He was fine,” Jean said.

“He slipped and fell.” Roni then added, “There was one oddity.” She thought a moment. “He had in his pocket a fox ring designed by Erté.”

“The one in your Christmas catalog?” Sister’s eyes lit up, for she had truly wanted it. “The one where the tail is wrapped over his snout? How beautiful.”

“That’s the one,” Jean said, offering no explanation about Harry and the ring.

“I told the detective who questioned me, all of us.” Roni stood up to go back to work. “We hadn’t sold the ring for Christmas. It wasn’t in the case.”

“You think he stole it?” Sister thought this odd. “He’d never do that.”

“Then he would have had to be in the store after it was closed and he would have to have known where we keep jewelry after hours.” Marion leaned forward. “The detective chose not to tell the media this and I don’t quite know why. But it really makes no sense.”

“Well,” Sister drawled. “It does if they suspect this may not have been an accident.”

“He was at the foot of the stairs with the back of his skull cracked.” Jean’s eyes opened wide.

“It’s still possible that it wasn’t an accident. Cracking someone’s skull can be done with a number of tools.” Debbie looked at Jean.

“Oh, Debbie.” Martha also stood up. “I’ve been rereading Agatha Christie lately. She’d be with you on this.”

“And you?” Sister glanced up at the pretty woman.

“It does seem unlikely. More like bad luck.”