The Tell-Tale Horse

CHAPTER 24

How much do you have in the kitty?” Sister asked, as she drove Felicity to Aluminum Manufacturing.

“Seven hundred and one dollars and ninety-five cents.” Felicity enjoyed the high view the truck gave her. “Most of it from Val.”

“Cusses a lot, does she?”

“Not around you.” Felicity’s wry humor hadn’t abandoned her despite her predicament.

“Better not.” Sister slowed, turning left into the parking lot behind the brick office building.

Felicity saw the manufacturing building behind the brick building, which was obscured by rows of pines along the road. “Huge.”

“Garvey calls this the bullpit. Window frames are made here, caps for broom handles, you won’t believe the stuff they make. It’s fascinating, really.”

“Once our second grade visited a dairy.” Felicity observed a stream of white smoke curling upward from the big chimney at the rear of the building. “I mean, I knew milk came from cows and all that but I didn’t know how much happened before we drank it: machines to milk cows, what goes on at the processing plant. That’s when I became interested in how things actually get done. And profit.” She smiled shyly.

“Profit’s the hard part. There’s no way anyone can pierce the future. All decisions are based on insufficient evidence. But I do know, should you end up in business, a good rule of thumb is, whatever something costs today, it will cost more tomorrow.”

Felicity flipped down the passenger sunshade, a mirror on the reverse side. She checked her face. “Do I look okay?”

“Fresh as a daisy.”

“Should I tell him I’m pregnant? It’s kind of like lying if I don’t.” The strain was showing on her young face.

Sister cut the motor. “Yes, but wait until the interview is mostly over. Garvey’s a good man, a fair man, and if your interview has gone well—and I’m sure it will—he’ll work it out with you.”

“I like Mr. Stokes. He doesn’t do stupid things in the hunt field.”

“I like him too. Ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They walked over the macadam, little bits pilling up over the years. Macadam doesn’t have a long life span. The bits crunched underfoot.

Reaching the glass door, Sister stepped forward to open it for Felicity.

The office building was rectangular, brick with lots of windows. Built in the 1930s, the entire structure, front and back, was no-nonsense. Sister appreciated function so she didn’t find the place ugly at all.

The small lobby contained samples of their products as well as colored framed photos of special projects over the years. A curved reception desk, a deep navy Turkish rug, and six Barcelona chairs offered testimony that Garvey possessed some aesthetic sensibility and was willing to pay for it. True Barcelona chairs are anything but cheap and the desk had been handmade specially by Aluminum Manufacturing, the aluminum top smooth, highly polished, and gleaming.

Bessie Tutweiler, a woman in her mid-fifties, was helping as a temporary bookkeeper and receptionist.

She pulled off her tortoiseshell glasses, hanging on a silver chain, and they dropped to rest on her ample, cashmere-covered bosom. “Sister, haven’t seen you since Moses parted the Red Sea.” She beamed.

“Bessie, that was a long time ago. I don’t even remember what Ramses wore.”

They both laughed.

“And how are you since that distant day?” Bessie inquired.

“Fine. Yourself?”

“Can’t complain.”

“This is Felicity Porter.” Sister introduced her to the older woman instead of vice versa. Sister’s manners were impeccable. “Bessie, she’s a wonderful young lady and she has an interview with Garvey.” She turned to Felicity. “This is Mrs. Thornton Tutweiler.”

Bessie stood, extending her hand, which Felicity shook.

Bessie looked sharply at Felicity, liking the package, for the still slender girl was modestly dressed in becoming colors. “Honey, you sit down and he’ll be out in a minute.” She glanced at the small switchboard, a few dots of light showing, and flicked a button that turned on an orange light on Garvey’s phone, alerting him that his appointment was in the lobby.

Sister sank into a Barcelona chair. She smiled at Felicity, who returned her smile, trying not to let nerves get the better of her.

Within a few minutes Garvey walked down the hall, entered the reception area, came rapidly to Sister, and bent over, kissing her on the cheek. “Master, you look wonderful.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t immune to compliments.

“Best run of the season Saturday!” He took both of her hands in his. “Just the best. I try to forget the rest of it.” He reached over to Felicity, offering her his hand. “Come in, young entry,” he said, winking.

Hearing a foxhunting term relaxed Felicity a little.

When Garvey’s door closed, Bessie said, “She looks like a sensible kid.”

“A brilliant one. She has a real mind for business. And she is pretty sensible, no drugs or drinking, you know.” Sister left it at that, for Bessie would learn in good time about the rest.

“Faye Spencer.” Bessie sucked in her breath. “How awful for you. I just can’t believe it!”

“None of us can.”

“What could that lovely widow have done to deserve such a death? A nicer person you’d never find.”

Bessie put her glasses back on to check a new light on the switchboard, then removed them to look at Sister. Angel had researched and updated the office equipment, but she had died before being able to update their interior communication. Garvey kept meaning to get around to it, but that’s easier said than done. At least Bessie knew how to work the switchboard.

“Faye was a delight to all who knew her. And she worked hard, Bessie. After her husband was killed she picked herself up and kept going. Faye never asked for sympathy or favors. I hope I find out who did this. I’ll skin him alive.”

“I’ll help you.” Bessie pursed her lips. “We live in a strange and violent world, Sister. No respect for life. It’s all money, money, money.”

“Do you think Faye might have been killed over money?” Sister couldn’t lean forward in a Barcelona chair without sitting on the edge but she raised her voice a tad.

Bessie threw up her hands. “Who knows? I guess if her business takes off—well, she’d have been worth millions, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes, I think so,” Sister replied.

“I think there’s a fiend out there. I don’t really think this is about money.” Bessie settled in to explain her theory. “Ever watch the true crime programs on TV?” Sister shook her head. “Well, from what I can gather from them, most criminals, if they aren’t stupid and can’t control their impulses, which is most of the criminal population, if they’re intelligent, they believe that what they are doing makes sense. It’s right. They truly believe they are right, their acts aren’t immoral. You know, like the men who kill prostitutes because they believe they’re filth. Wouldn’t it make more sense to kill the men who buy their bodies? I mean, we do live in a world of supply and demand. Seems to me the retribution is one-sided, but then those killers are always men, aren’t they?”

“Serial killers are, with one or two famous exceptions.” Sister knew Bessie, while not a flaming genius, possessed a sturdy intelligence, better in the long run.

“They truly believe their actions bring justice because the system is slow and unjust.” Bessie repeated the main thrust of her thoughts.

“Never thought of that. I thought killing provided an adrenaline rush, a thrill, power.”

“Probably does. I hope Ben Sidell gets this guy. Makes me look over my shoulder to think he’s out there—I mean, out there on our streets.”

“I’m looking over my shoulder too.” Sister changed the subject. “How’s Thornton?”

“Oh, happy as a clam. Orthopedic surgeons never run out of patients. If it’s not a football player, it’s a skier, and if it’s not a skier, it’s a kid who fell off his bike. He loves it.” She laughed. “Show Thorn a broken bone and he’s in heaven. Isn’t it funny, he was just as enthusiastic when I met him in med school. Blind date and here we are.” She laughed again. “Just love him, just love him to death.”

“Ever notice when someone finds the right one it’s easy”—Sister paused—“or as easy as a relationship can be.”

“Yes, I have noticed.”

“Bessie, it certainly is good of you to fill in here while Garvey is shorthanded.”

“I worked before the kids were born, which you know, and now that they’re married—well, how can I put it? I was drifting along. When Garvey called last month I thought, Why not? A few months will be fun and the pin money never hurts, and you know I quite like it. I like the hustle and bustle.” Bessie’s vocabulary sounded older than she was, no doubt a result of all that time spent playing bridge with her mother-in-law.

“He’s lucky to have you.”

Bessie rose, came over to sit next to Sister, and lowered her voice. “You’re sweet to say that. I spoke to Thornton last night, testing the waters. He said he thought it would be fine if I went back to work, so today I’ll talk to Garvey about it. Even if he hires that pretty Porter girl, he needs one more person on office staff full time. Someone has to work the dinosaur.” She indicated the switchboard. “You wouldn’t believe how much work there is to do here. Mountains.” She emphasized mountains.

“Better get your climbing gear because I know you’ll have a job.”

“Think so?” Bessie sounded breathless.

“Of course.”

They heard Garvey’s door open so Bessie returned to the desk.

Felicity and Garvey were walking in step, both smiling.

“Bessie, Felicity will start tomorrow, working Monday, Thursday, and Friday after lunch, part-time, until school’s out. Then we’ve got ourselves a full-time girl, I mean woman.” He did try not to call women girls, but it confused him that an eighty-year-old woman would call another eighty-year-old woman girl.

“Wonderful.” Bessie meant it.

“Angel’s office,” Garvey mentioned.

“A good omen.” Bessie smiled again. “Congratulations, Felicity. You’ll like it here. You can’t believe how much activity there is, so much to learn.”

“I can’t wait, Mrs. Tutweiler.”

Out in the parking lot, Felicity threw her arms around Sister. “Thank you, thank you!”

“Honey, I just opened the door. You had to walk through it. I knew you’d impress Garvey.” She waited a moment. “The baby?”

“Oh, he was so sweet. He said I should work until I became too uncomfortable and then come back when I was ready; he’d hold my job. I’ll be back in a week. I need to work.” She stopped, then looked Sister straight in the eye. “I don’t want anyone’s money. I’m glad our parents won’t help us. Howie and I will do it on our own. No one can throw anything up in our faces then.”

“You’re right about that, Sugar. Come on, let’s get in the truck. It’s colder than a witch’s bosom.”

Once rolling back down the road they chattered away.

Felicity quieted a moment. She was usually quiet, but the relief of getting a job had pulled the stopper out of the bottle. “Sister, what am I going to do about Parson?” Suddenly tears welled in her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

This was a surprise. “You have?”

“He’s a good horse. He’s got a little age on him, but he’s well made, smart, kind, and will take care of his rider.”

“He’s a good jumper.”

“Lorraine Rasmussen is coming along with her riding. She’ll be ready for first flight next season. I’ll have a word with her. You keep Parson, and when the season’s over, bring him here. I think we can work something out, and I bet you could ride him sometimes, although with a new baby I don’t know where you’re going to find the time.”

“You did.”

“Sweetie, you didn’t know my husband, but let’s just say I married well. We could afford help. And even with help, there were days when I was overwhelmed when RayRay was a baby. I do better with children when they can walk and talk but RayRay didn’t know that so I sure learned.”

“He must have been a good guy, your son.”

“He was. I think of him every day, every hour, and I long to hear his voice.” She smiled. “Your child opens your heart, or maybe I should say opens a part of your heart you didn’t even know existed until that door opens.”

“I’m kind of excited. Kind of scared.”

“Well, Felicity, join womanhood.” Sister laughed. “Every one of us feels that way and then out pops the baby and you’re on the roller coaster.”

“I can never repay you.” Tears welled up in Felicity’s eyes.

Sister’s engagement ring and wedding ring glamed with that odd burnish of platinum as a ray of sun caught her hand on the steering wheel. “You can.”

“How?”

“Love the land. Teach your child to love the land and the creatures upon it and in the sea and in the air. Teach your child respect for life. Even trees are alive and”—she paused dramatically—“put that little thing’s bottom on a horse as soon as he or she can actually see. Hold them up there and I’ll take the lead line. You make a foxhunter for me.”

Felicity grinned. “It’s a deal.”

“Now, what about Howie? I take it he can’t ride yet, so use your womanly wiles. The family that rides together learns to ride out troubles together too.”

“Howie can’t ride a lick.”

“He’ll do it for you. He’ll do it for the baby.”

“I’ll work on him.”

“Felicity, men are easy,” Sister said, a glint of deviltry in her eyes.

Passing through the huge wrought-iron gates, Sister again admired the grounds of Custis Hall. She parked behind Old Main, the administration building, as she had business with Charlotte Norton.

The two walked to the back staircase of the oldest building on campus, once serving multiple functions but now confined to housing administrators.

Sister kissed Felicity on her cheek. “You’re on your way.”

Solemn, a little nervous, Felicity said, “Will you be godmother to our baby?”

Without a second’s hesitation Sister replied, “I would consider it a great honor.”

Felicity felt tears well up in her eyes again. She struggled to know herself because she wasn’t given to emotions and now they skimmed on her surface. “Thank you.”

Sister kissed her again. “Go on, young ’un.”

Inside the reception room to Charlotte’s office, Teresa Bourbon, Charlotte’s able and discreet assistant, waved Sister in.

The silver tea service, expensive then, a fortune now, given to the president by the class of 1952 back in 1952, sat on the coffee table, steam spiraling out of the teapot spout.

“Egg salad and tuna salad sandwiches for starters.” Charlotte stepped out behind her desk. “And your favorite afternoon tea, real orange pekoe.”

“I need it.” Sister sank onto the sofa as Charlotte poured a bracing cup and handed it to her.

Then she poured one for herself and sat next to Sister. She picked up the tray of sandwiches. “Nourishment.”

“I really am famished.”

They ate their sandwiches, drank their tea, and talked forth-rightly, for over the years the two women had taken each other’s measure.

“Got the job.”

“I’m glad,” Charlotte replied. “Much as I’d like to see her at Princeton, I know she’s strong-willed and I hope this will work.”

“Wonder if they’ll all get into Princeton?”

Charlotte leaned back. “They have the qualifications but I doubt if admissions is going to take three girls from the same school.”

“There is that.” Sister reached for another delicious sandwich. “You know, Charlotte, I have a feeling about Felicity. Like I get a feeling about hound puppies. That girl is going to be a success, a big success. She has drive. Fate appears to be handing her a bad card, but I think it will be the making of her.”

“I hope so.” Charlotte didn’t sound 100 percent convinced. “Her parents flamed me like a blowtorch.”

“Immature people need a target for their anger.”

“Felicity is more mature in many ways than her parents.” Charlotte poured another cup of tea for Sister and herself. “You’d be surprised how many times I see that here.”

“Bet I wouldn’t.”

Charlotte spoke next of the unavoidable subject. “I’ve hired extra security. There’s always fat in every budget, so I squeezed some out. Chances are, whoever this perverse killer is, he isn’t interested in Custis Hall, but I can’t be too careful, and both victims were young and good-looking. Who’s to say?”

“I certainly hope the girls are safe. You did the right thing. The only common thread I can find—well, two—for the victims is that both were quite beautiful and both had knowledge of wireless technology.”

“Yes, I thought of that too. Naturally, I don’t want to alarm the girls but I did have the career counselors give each girl a questionnaire concerning last year’s summer jobs. It’s not obvious—there are lots of questions because it’s designed to support finding a job this summer for those who want to do that as well as supporting life experience information for college applications—but there are a few questions about working for cell phone companies and computer chip companies. Just in case.” Charlotte smiled a tight smile. “As it turns out, Val worked last summer for Alltel back home.”

“You’re way ahead of everyone else,” Sister replied. “Let’s hope Val’s knowledge is limited, just in case.”

Charlotte held a plate of chocolate cookies and shortbread ones. “One good thing that’s come out of this is that interest has spiked in the early Middle Ages.” She paused. “It was taught to me as a low point in European history—well, not as low as the so-called Dark Ages but low—and I don’t think it was at all. The advances in agriculture were significant.”

“And the clothing design was gorgeous,” Sister added.

“Twelfth century. The lines,” Charlotte enthused, for she believed clothing revealed a great deal about a culture’s dreams as well as its reality.

“Long fluid lines.” Sister agreed with her. “I think the true Dark Ages for European culture was the twentieth century. A sea of blood.”

“Exactly.” Charlotte paused. “You know, the sum of suffering was so great we can’t apprehend it. But we can understand two dead Lady Godivas. Understand and fear.”

“Do you think the killer wants us to be afraid?”

“I don’t know. I am.”

“I wonder if he’s laughing at us.”

“Is it possible he wishes us to be both fearful and amused?”