part0020

Sunday morning and Caesar Newland was at the entrance gate with his hedge trimmers. I pretended that was normal and waved, and he pretended not to see me. I gave up and pressed the intercom buzzer.

“Who’s there?” an impatient voice asked.

“Gerald? Is that you?”

“Jessie? Is that you? Come on in.” He clicked off, and the gate swung—yes, swung—open.

“This is not normal,” I told the dashboard as I drove forward. I parked beside the gardener’s cart and hopped out. What’s the saying? Carpe diem?

The diem I was interested in was the previous Wednesday, but I began with idle chit-chat, and soon discovered idle chit-chat is not Caesar Newland’s forte. He completely ignored me in his manic quest to lop off this and that branch from an innocent rhododendron bush.

I raised my voice and mentioned the lovely spring we were having. “Do you enjoy spring?” I asked. “Or is springtime too much work for you?”

“Work!” Lop, lop, lop. “I like work.”

“Speaking of work.” I flinched as another bough fell. “I wonder where you were working this past week? Take Wednesday, for instance.”

Not too terribly subtle, but the gardener took no notice and slipped past the gate post. And yes, he fit. Caesar is as thin as I am and a few inches shorter.

He commenced attacking the shrubs over there, and I, too, stepped outside the gate. “Wednesday,” I repeated.

“Weeding!” he snapped.

“Here at the front gate?”

“At the front door.” Snap, snap. “Everyone knows I weed around the Cupid on Wednesdays.”

“I see,” I said and stepped over the pile of debris he was creating between us. “Keeping all the beds properly weeded must be quite a challenge. ”

“It was when Mrs. Rigby was in charge.” Snap, snap, snap. “She liked formal gardens.”

“She was a lovely woman, wasn’t she?” I asked, and the old guy actually lowered his weapon.

“Mrs. Rigby and her gardens,” he mumbled.

I gestured toward the hedge trimmers. “May I?”

He pulled back, but I pointed to some unruly boughs dangling from the gate post. “I can reach those,” I said, and lo and behold, he handed over the hedge clippers. “I’m like you,” I said as I trimmed here and clipped there. “I prefer Mother Nature under strict control.”

“Don’t let Mr. Rigby hear you say that.” He pointed to a branch above my left shoulder. “He likes the environment.”

“I’m all for the environment.” Snap, snap. “But only at arm’s length. I keep my garden well-groomed also.”

“You have a garden? Mallory said you live downtown.”

I smiled to myself. Of course I had become a topic on the Rigby Estate grapevine. After all, the staff on my PBS program gossips incessantly about any guests at the manor. I lowered my arms and described my rooftop garden, and in a fit of inspiration, invited Caesar to visit.

“I keep myself to myself.”

“But I could really use your help,” I tried.

“With, umm. With pruning my potted azalea bush!” I sighed dramatically. “Oh, but that would be too much work for you.”

“Work?” he asked.

The alien who had taken possession Gerald Witherspoon’s body urged me through the mahogany doors and rushed me toward the drawing room. Said alien, I observed, carried a silver serving tray with a small plastic bag, weighed down by a crystal paper weight.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“There’s been a development!” The Gerald impersonator kept going and performed some sort of long jump over the last three yards to the French doors. “Jessie Hewitt!” he announced, and Piers also performed a long jump to land before me.

Coco was right behind him. “Jessie darling!” She elbowed her cousin aside. “I found the ransom note!”

I think I remained almost calm as the cousins escorted me to the blue couch, and meanwhile Gerald Witherspoon’s look-alike presented Al Kapinski with that plastic bag.

“Is this acceptable?” he asked as the cop took the bag, and slipped a note inside.

“The ransom note?” I mouthed at the Rigbys as it disappeared into Al’s breast pocket.

Piers nodded silently, but Coco spoke up to inform me she had found it in the mailbox.

“But there’s no mail on Sunda—”

Piers held up a hand to interrupt and offered his butler the standard “That will be all.”

“But, sir. Your guests shall require coffee.” He bowed to yours truly, and I marveled at how quickly alien Gerald had reverted back to exceedingly formal and ponderous Gerald. “Considering recent developments, might I suggest further refreshment?”

“Gerald, you are such a dear!” Coco informed everyone she was “utterly famished” and turned to me. “Scones?”

I shrugged noncommittally, but Al was a bit less subtle. “Bring in the scones,” he ordered, and Gerald took his ponderous leave.

Piers glanced at his cousin. “You never eat breakfast.”

“Tis true.” She reached for my hand and confessed that she is not usually a morning person. “But today was different, Jessie darling. You understand.”

No, but she pointed to her livery, and I figured it out. “You went riding and built up an appetite?” I asked.

“Correct.” She nodded to Al. “As I was telling the Lieutenant, your example from yesterday inspired me. You understand. ”

No, again. “I don’t go riding,” I said. “I’m not a horse-pers—”

“Yes, darling, but you do take matters into your own hands, yes?” Coco informed me her own ‘inner sleuth’ had suggested she and Nell ‘trot along’ down to the entrance gate. “And there, my inner sleuth whispered to me.” She tapped an earlobe. “‘Check the mailbox, check the mailbox.’” She let go of her ear and smiled. “Just like you, Jessie.”

I bit my lip and refused to catch Al’s eye as she continued elaborating. Evidently Nell had remained within the estate, but Coco, who is a tad heavier than I, squeezed past the gate post. “And ta-da!” she exclaimed. “There it was.”

That time I did look at Al. “She picked it up!” he roared. “With her bare hands!”

“Then she brought it inside,” Piers said. “We were reading it when Lieutenant Kapinski arrived.”

“More like pawing at it!” Al said. “Forensics will have a whole smorgasbord of DNA to process. Rigby DNA, horse DNA—” He glowered in my direction. “Thanks for being such a great inspiration.”

Need I mention, I was completely innocent? I never told Coco to take matters into her own hands, and I certainly never suggested she touch the ransom note with her bare hands. Living with Wilson Rye has taught me at least that much.

But why quibble? I pointed to Al’s pocket and got to the point. “What does it say?”

Al raised a bushy eyebrow and stared at the grandfather clock. Coco raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and stared at her cousin.

“Piers?” I asked. “How much?”

“A million dollars.”

I started. “That’s it?” Yes, a million dollars may seem substantial to you and me, but remember we’re talking about Pierpont Rigby.

“It gets even more strange,” Coco told me. “Evidently they should have given us instructions. ”

“No time frame, no drop off point.” Al jerked a thumb at Piers. “And they still haven’t told him to stay clear of the cops.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” I mumbled. “Is there a postmark?”

“It’s Sunday.”

Piers waved to get my attention. “They just walked up, or drove up, and left it in my mailbox, Jessie. Why don’t I have a camera down there?”

Good question. But I kept my mouth shut, and he appealed to Al. “Maybe I should put the money directly in the mailbox,” he said. “Maybe that’s what they expect.”

“What about the exchange?” Al asked. “Your girlfriend fit in the mailbox?”

Piers stared at the Persian carpet, and when Al spoke again, his tone was almost gentle. “There’s something you people need to understand,” he said. “And you’re not gonna like it.”

“They don’t mention a tradeoff,” Al said. “That could mean something. You understand?”

“They haven’t thought that far ahead,” Piers said.

“Or they’re not sure I can come up with the money.”

“Everyone knows you can come up with the money, Pee-Pie.”

Al ignored Coco and kept his focus on Piers. “Or?” he repeated.

I gasped and covered my mouth.

“Jessie?” Piers asked. “What’s wrong?”

Coco gasped and covered her mouth.

“Coco? What’s wrong?”

He turned to Al, and the cop stated it point blank. “There may be nothing, or no one, to trade off,” he said, but it still took Piers a second or two.

“No,” he hissed. “No!” he said more forcefully, and I closed my eyes and prayed for strength.