Chapter 24
I spent the next few hours baking. The chewy salted double chocolate brownies were first. I watched the mixer beat the eggs with the sugar until they became creamy and thick. There was something about the ordinariness of sprinkling flaked salt on the brownies that I found comforting. No skeletons, no antifreeze, no beloved friends dying. I popped them into the oven to bake, watching the time carefully. I didn’t want them to lose the satisfying chewiness.
When they rested on a baking rack on the kitchen counter, I started cupcakes. I had a package of sweetened shredded coconut that had to be used and my family loved coconut cupcakes. I cut back on the sugar in the batter just a little bit because the cream cheese buttercream frosting would be super sweet.
Methodically, I spooned the batter into the cupcake liners, making sure they were three-quarters full. When they were in the oven, Peaches and I ventured out into our garden. It was a lovely summer evening, the kind when the warm air feels like an embrace.
I drew a sketch of Edgar, wondering what his sister looked like. He resembled the man in the picture, but I wouldn’t have known they were related if he hadn’t said so. Maybe it was the old-fashioned yet newly popular glasses he wore that made him look different. Or maybe he looked more like his mom. I drew the glasses with the dark tops and the clear bottoms. They were a style that made a person look serious. Favored by nerdy types, it seemed.
My thoughts turned to Zsazsa. I wondered what other evidence the police might have found in Dolly’s apartment. Lipstick could have fallen on the floor any time. Even I could defend that and I wasn’t a lawyer.
Zsazsa and Goldblum had hit on something important. I doodled a glass as I thought. Whoever had murdered Dolly had either made a drink in Dolly’s apartment, or brought her a drink. The police were focused on orange juice, so I had to believe they had found remains of it in her stomach. I switched to a tangerine coloring pencil and filled the glass. I doodled a straw and a wedge of lemon as a garnish.
I planned to take a cooling thermos to the starlight concert the next night. That would be an easy way to transport a deadly drink. It would be even easier for someone who lived close by. Edgar, Olivia, Priss, or even Dolly’s gardening neighbor might have made drinks and brought them over on a tray. Of course, one would have to be careful that Dolly got the toxic drink.
I hoped Zsazsa didn’t have a cooling thermos. She probably did. So many people took water everywhere with them that they were very common. No one would think a thing about it.
The other point that stuck in my mind was that it must have been someone Dolly knew well. She had opened the door to that person. Unfortunately, it didn’t eliminate many people.
The timer went off in the kitchen. I hurried to rescue my cupcakes. I slid them out of the oven and placed them individually on baking racks. When they cooled, I would frost them.
Satisfied that the bulk of the baking had been done, I returned to the garden where Peaches stalked a mouse.
Poor mousie. It was a good thing Peaches was well-fed. Her instincts forced her to focus on it. I hoped she wouldn’t catch it.
For fun, I opted for an electric violet pencil and drew a little mouse peeking out of a hole. I hoped the real mouse had a hiding place to scamper to.
It was the calmest night I’d had in days. Even as the sun set, I stayed outside and drew, but as I checked the pages of my sketchbook, I found I had more faces than I did garden vignettes for the coloring book.
I was very glad I had swapped days with Helen. In the morning, I would go to Dumbarton Oaks for inspiration and try to get back on track.
* * *
I rose feeling fresh and eager to get going. I should have waited until the phone store opened to check on my telephone, but I decided it was better to do without it. I would go to Dumbarton Oaks, spend the morning sketching without interruptions from my mother, and then check on the phone.
I spooned Crabby Cat Crabmeat into a bowl for Peaches. She ate with gusto. I assumed it was tastier than mouse.
When she was through, she sat in a sunbeam and carefully washed her whiskers.
I made myself an insulated stainless steel water bottle full of hot tea with just the right amount of sugar, sealed it, grabbed my sketchbook, and said goodbye to Peaches.
She didn’t seem to care. It was naptime now that her tummy was full of Crabby Cat.
Dumbarton Oaks was a historic estate, now open to the public. The sprawling gardens were still carefully tended. I opted for the fountain terrace and settled on the grass.
An iron gate hung open as though welcoming visitors. Stone pillars and fences enclosed the area. Overflowing summer blooms lined the enclosure. And in the middle of a manicured lawn were two pools, each with a small child in the center holding a fish from which water spouted.
There were inspiring views everywhere I looked. I focused on the magnificent fountains and sketched, wondering if the artist of The Florist had done something similar in his quest to draw precise images of flowers.
I focused on my work, oblivious to the other visitors who came and went, until someone sat on the grass beside me.
“I hope you don’t mind if I join you?”
I looked to my right. “Mike, right?” It was the man who had left a drawing of me in my sketchbook. The truth was that I did mind, but what could I do? If he talked too much, I would make an excuse and find another spot. “That drawing of me was great.”
“It’s been a long time. I’m quite rusty. This is a magnificent place. Imagine what it must have been like to live here.”
“Like royalty,” I said. “But think about the cost of upkeep.”
“No kidding. I’m sure they didn’t mow their own lawns.” He smiled at me.
“Are you visiting every park and garden in the city?” I asked.
“I lived here for years without ever knowing about this place. No, I am here to enjoy the beauty and wonder of life.”
I looked over at him again.
“Like that hummingbird. I’m told they are a healing symbol. They’re supposed to help us endure and see the positive when we are troubled.”
“I should incorporate one in my coloring book. We all need that!”
I flipped the page and doodled a hummingbird.
“Are you troubled?” he asked.
“A dear friend was murdered and I think they have the wrong suspect. But I’m not making much progress in figuring out who really murdered her.”
“That would be a woman named Dolly?”
“How did you know?”
“I read the newspapers. The skeleton in her attic ensured a lot of publicity about her death. I, too, am looking for someone.”
“A long-lost girlfriend?” I teased.
Fortunately, he smiled. “I’m looking for a man who”—he held up his hand and snapped his fingers—“disappeared into the mist of humanity.” His mouth twitched from side to side. “He stole some very valuable items and vanished. But, you see, I intend to find him. While there are many faraway places on this planet and many places to hide, he will not escape me. Not even if it’s the final thing I do in my time on this earth.”
“You’re scaring me a little bit. You don’t intend to harm him?”
“Ah, that’s where the concept of forgiveness comes in. I could say bygones can never be recaptured and let it go. But he took over twenty years of my life. I am sorry to say, that I don’t think I can simply wash that away. It clings to me like a coffee stain on a crisp white shirt.”
I was almost afraid to ask exactly what he meant. “How could anyone take years of your life?”
“I went to prison for a crime he committed. For twenty-seven years I was incarcerated and could not live my life. Meanwhile, the real criminal was never arrested. Each day he was able to sit in the sun, to hold the hand of a loved one, to lick an ice cream cone, and hear the melodious laughter of children.”
Why hadn’t I stayed home and sketched in my tranquil garden with Peaches prowling around the koi pond?
“You needn’t look so distressed. The point is that I did not commit a crime. But now everyone thinks I did. I paid the price for someone else’s crime. And it was a very dear price. Now I bear the grand title of felon. Most undeservedly. There are no jobs available to me. Who wants to hire a felon? I wouldn’t.”
“But if you find this man you can prove that you were not the thief.”
He cocked his head. “Maybe. Twenty-seven years is a long time. There’s no telling what he did with the items he stole. As far as I know, they never turned up again. Either he still has them or he sold them on the black market. If so, the current owner spent many years with the knowledge that I was not the one who stole them, and he allowed me to rot in prison rather than give up his precious acquisitions.”
“Does this have anything to do with Orso?”
His eyebrows lifted. “You know Orso?”
I smiled at him and shrugged. “I read the newspapers.”
Mike bellowed. His hearty laugh rumbled through the garden. “It’s too bad I never had children. I would have enjoyed a daughter like you.”
He got to his feet. “I hope we meet again, my dear Florrie.”
While his face was fresh in my mind, I tried drawing it. Like Professor Maxwell, his face was a roadmap of wrinkles. I would have to study him to get them right. He had the standard horizontal worry lines across his forehead like Nolan. And the equivalent of a quotation mark between his eyebrows. His lips were so thin that his mouth was little more than a slit. I added a longer tip to his nose. It was prominent but attractive. It suited his face, but there was no pug nose on that man.
By midafternoon, I was pleased with my progress and ready for a bite to eat. I closed my sketchbook and returned to the phone store.
They proudly brought out a new phone with all my old information on it. One item accomplished!
All day long, I had dreaded the starlight concert in the park. Normally, it would be the sort of thing I enjoyed, but the pressure was on to be warm and welcoming to Veronica’s new beau. I wasn’t my sister’s keeper. And I didn’t want to be like Olivia and Priss. If this mystery man was the man of Veronica’s dreams, the least I could do was welcome him into the family. Right now, I reminded myself, they were only dating. So all I had to do was be civil.
In the early evening, I wrapped up the brownies and coconut cupcakes I had baked. I packed them into a picnic basket along with two large thermoses of fruit spritzer. Eric and Edgar arrived just as I was pulling out an old blanket to sit on.
I opened the door and did my level best to sound cheerful. “Ready to relax under the stars?”
I handed the picnic basket to Eric and the blanket to Edgar. As I was locking the door, I spied Mr. DuBois looking out the window. Excusing myself, I hurried to the back door of the mansion and knocked on it.
Mr. DuBois opened it. He was leaning on his crutches. “We’re headed to the park for a starlight concert. Would you care to join us?”
Mr. DuBois gazed at Eric and Edgar. “Thank you for your kind invitation, but I must decline.”
I raised my eyebrows. “We can help you walk.”
“Miss Florrie, I abhor leaving the premises after dark. Sitting in a field on the ground among hundreds of other sweating people is not my idea of a pleasant experience. Concerts are to be enjoyed in a concert hall with finely constructed acoustics. One dresses for such an event and sits in a chair without the smacking noises of one’s neighbor consuming potato chips.”
“Aww, come on. I think you would enjoy it.”
“I fear you have a wildly misguided notion about what would please me. Have a pleasant evening.”
The three of us walked away, but not before we heard the bolt on the door snap shut.
“What’s with him?” asked Edgar.
“He’s very proper, but I have a suspicion that he’s somewhat agoraphobic.”
Edgar glanced at me, evidently confused.
“He likes to stay home,” explained Eric.
The park wasn’t far from the Maxwell mansion. Eric and I spotted Veronica and my mom immediately. They had staked out one of the best spots. It was out in the open where we would be able to see the stars and the orchestra.
And then I spotted Veronica’s new boyfriend. The one she had made such a fuss about. The one she wanted Mom and Dad to meet.
Percy McAllister.