Chapter 29

It was 8 a.m. when the house phone rang. Debbie answered - it was Genevieve’s housekeeper, sounding completely hysterical and asking for Jeff.

“Jeff, it’s for you. It’s Maria. It sounds like something’s wrong, but I can’t tell what.”

“Hello, Maria. How are you?” Jeff asked. “Slow down. What are you saying? Please repeat what you said...No. That’s not possible. What do you mean? What happened?”

“What’s the matter?” Debbie asked.

“It’s mother. She’s had an accident,” he said to Debbie. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there as soon as possible,” he said into the phone. “Please call the police right away. Tell them I’m on my way.”

“Is she okay? How bad is it?” Debbie asked.

“She’s dead. Maria said she fell down the cellar steps. She hit her head.”

“Was Maria there when it happened?” Debbie asked. “Does she know how it happened?”

“No, darling. She was out dealing with a family problem and mother was alone last night.”

“But I saw her for lunch and she was fine. I can’t believe it! This is impossible.”

“I have to go there,” Jeff said.

“I’ll come along,” Debbie said quickly.

“Are you sure? This may be hard for you to see. I know you were just beginning to get along with her,” he said.

“No, I need to be with you at a time like this,” Debbie said. “I want to help.”

Debbie thought Jeff had not yet absorbed the reality of what was happening. Not until he would actually see his mother lying there would it sink in. She was glad the police would be there. She could tell right away if there might be any suspicion of foul play.

They took the car and Jeff drove to his mother’s house, not speaking much along the way. Debbie said, “I’m so sorry, Jeff.”

“We’ve had our differences,” Jeff said, “but she had my best interests at heart. I can’t imagine being without her.”

Debbie was angry to hear him say that, but she didn’t respond. Genevieve had been an evil witch of a woman - a hateful, superior snob. Debbie would rejoice in her own quiet way, and Jeff would soon agree with her. She was sure of it.

There were two police cars on the driveway in front of the mansion when Jeff and Debbie arrived. Inside, two officers were talking to the housekeeper, whose tears were flowing liberally. Finally, Debbie understood what Jeff had been telling her about crying. Maria’s blubbering looked ridiculous to her. When she was ready to cry, it would be in a much more ladylike way. One of the officers came up to Jeff. “Mr. Sadlers. My deepest condolences. The coroner is going to examine your mother’s body. We don’t believe there’s any reason to suspect foul play.”

“Where is she?” Jeff asked.

“In the cellar. It seems she must have tripped on her way down,” the officer said.

“She almost never goes down there,” Jeff said. “Only when she is selecting wines for a party, and I’m sure she had no dinner parties planned.”

“We’ve called in Philadelphia’s top guy in case there’s a connection to the orchestra murders,” said one of the Lower Merion police officers, “but we don’t see anything out of order. No signs of forced entry. No indication anyone else was in the house. And her housekeeper’s whereabouts have already been verified.”

Jeff was very surprised when the ‘top guy’ arrived a minute later and turned out to be Cynthia Masters. “Jeff, I just learned it was your mother. I’m so sorry.”

“You know each other?” Debbie asked.

“Yes, this is Detective Masters. She has been working on the orchestra murders and we have spoken a few times. Cynthia, this is my wife, Debbie. She spent time with my mother earlier in the day yesterday.”

Cynthia looked at Debbie to see if she had any impressions. It was always the family members who needed to be checked out first. Where a large estate was in the picture, it was often the relatives who took matters into their own hands.

“Have you seen her yet?” Cynthia asked. “If not, I’ll go with you.” Jeff shook his head.

She went down the stairs first, followed by Jeff, and then Debbie. When Jeff saw his mother’s body on the cold cement floor, he shouted “Oh my God. No,” and began to weep. Debbie had been practicing, and squeezed out some tears. She grasped Jeff and buried her face against his chest. She knew that Cynthia was watching them both and her performance had to be perfect. Debbie was the first to speak. “What a terrible accident. How horrible that she was here by herself. I hope she didn’t suffer too much.”

“By the look of it,” one of the officers said, “her death was instant.”

“So...you saw her earlier in the day?” Cynthia asked. “How did she seem then? Is there anything you can tell me?”

“Not really,” Debbie said. “She seemed fine. We had lunch and went shopping and she bought a suit for me to wear to one of her social events next week.”

“What was your relationship like?” Cynthia asked.

“It was improving. We had problems at first. She didn’t want me to marry Jeff because she felt I wasn’t good enough for him. But we have worked through a lot of the issues, and we’ve been getting along better and better. In fact, yesterday was the best time we ever had - kind of like mother and daughter out for lunch and shopping.” Debbie paused, turned to Jeff, and began crying. “I’m going to miss her, Jeff.”

“We both are,” he said.

Cynthia appreciated Debbie’s honesty about her problems with her mother-in-law. She did not suspect either Debbie or Jeff, and could now move on to explore whether it was a genuine accident or not.

“Jeff,” Cynthia said. “I would like to go through the list of people you have interviewed for your articles about the orchestra murders. There may be someone trying to stop you. On the surface of this, it does look like she slipped and fell, but we need to be sure. Lower Merion called me in just in case there’s a link.”

Debbie was relieved that she seemed to be completely off the list of any possible suspects. She wondered how long it would take for Jeff to get over the shock of his mother’s death. Jeff likes his life to be in order. Now he will have to notify all her friends and put together a funeral. He’ll need my help, she thought.

Cynthia took a lot of photos, and asked the coroner to come to the house and examine the body before it was taken for an autopsy. If any unusual substances were found in her body it could be a sign of murder. Debbie knew that nothing would be found.

Jeff called his editor at the paper, giving him a brief account of what had happened. “I won’t be in today, and I’ll need a few days off.” His editor said that another reporter could finish his next story, and there would be a joint byline. “Thank you,” Jeff said. “We’ll phone you about the funeral plans.” Jeff knew for sure that later in the day the society reporters would be all over the story, and that Genevieve’s death would be major news in the city, with the media planting seeds of ‘foul play.’

Jeff and Debbie finally sat down on the sofa next to each other. Jeff was badly shaken and put his head on her shoulder. She put her arm around him, kissed his forehead, and stroked his hair. For now, until he realized his good fortune, she would continue to talk about how terrible this was. By the day after the funeral, Debbie thought, he’ll bounce back to his normal self. They sat still while everyone else moved around them. The coroner arrived, proclaiming Genevieve’s death as “very likely an accident, unless we find anything unusual in her blood. With your permission, we’ll take her now.” Jeff nodded and his mother’s body was carried out on a stretcher, in a body bag.

“Is there anything else we can do to help you?” Cynthia asked. “Otherwise, we’ll leave now and get back to you with the coroner’s report. I imagine you’ll need to make funeral arrangements later today, so please let us know when it is and we’ll keep an eye on things.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said, echoed by Debbie’s quiet words of thanks. “You’ve been a big help. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, I’m sure,” he said.

“As I said, we’re here to help. Don’t hesitate to ask,” Cynthia concluded.

Cynthia and the other officers left the house, Cynthia checking that the door was locked after closing it. The housekeeper had already been excused, and went to her daughter’s house. She would be back the next day to help with anything they needed. She was still sobbing when she left.

Debbie was hungry and tired. “Do you want some breakfast?” she asked Jeff.

“I can’t think about food at a time like this. Just a little water would be nice.”

Debbie went into the kitchen. She poured two glasses of water. She opened the fridge and stuffed a slice of turkey into her mouth, swallowing it as quickly as she could in case Jeff came into the room. Then she took a slice of cheese, again finishing it quickly and washing it down with a glass of water. She refilled the glass and went back into the room.

Jeff was in his own world, wondering what he would have to do next. He thought he should call his mother’s best friend and enlist her help. Debbie agreed it was an excellent idea. At some point, Genevieve’s lawyer, who had her will in his office, would need to be contacted, in case any burial arrangements were specified.

There was so much to be done. Debbie suddenly realized that she had not been in touch with Catherine since their night at the Irish Pub. She was hesitant to tell her about Genevieve’s death, believing that Catherine would somehow know the truth. That phone call could wait until the next day, but she would have to slip out of the apartment to speak with Catherine in private.

The rest of the day went by agonizingly slowly, with Jeff reminiscing about his childhood, and telling Debbie all the lovely things his mother had done for him. Has he totally forgotten what kind of woman she was? How she treated me? Debbie thought she would be sick, listening to it all, but she held his hand, stroked his head, and kissed him. Finally, she interrupted his stories, and insisted on making him scrambled eggs and toast, which he appreciated and found soothing.

Jeff found his mother’s address book. He made the first call to her closest friend, who offered to come to the house right away. Jeff postponed her visit until the morning, saying he would start making all the arrangements first thing in the morning. He made four more calls, but found that the reaction of each friend triggered his tears again. Debbie said she would help with the calls in the morning. They locked up the house and Jeff drove them home. Back in their home, Debbie looked around, knowing that within six months they would be living in a mansion. She only had to get through a few difficult days, and things would begin to turn around.