Creeps Suzette (23 page)

As Judith coughed, Renie sneezed. But the cousins approached the other door in the room and opened it. They
assumed it led to an adjoining room, like the bedrooms on the second and third floors.

They were wrong. It was a wardrobe, the far wall rounded to indicate that this was the other side of the tower. There were clothes hanging inside, moldy and dust-laden.

Renie carefully pulled out a long navy blue dress. “The thirties,” she said in awe. “Ankle-length, lace collar at the neck. Goodness.”

Judith reached for a more colorful garment, streaked with faded blues, reds, and yellows. “Haitian?” she breathed.

Renie nodded. “Everything in here is sixty years old.”

“So are we,” Judith remarked dryly. “Almost, anyway.”

They turned back to the bedroom itself. On a small side table next to the bed was a tin plate, a tin cup, and several tin utensils.

“Not the family silver,” Renie remarked.

“Nor is this,” Judith said, bending down. “What do you think?” She held up a rusty chain that was attached to the wall.

“Mother of God,” Renie whispered. “What went on here?”

Dr. Stevens was at the door. “Have you found anything?” he asked in a not-too-steady voice.

“Yes,” Judith said dumbly. “Come in.”

With a tentative step, Dr. Stevens crossed the threshold. “Oh, my God!” he murmured. “What are you holding?”

Judith jiggled the chain. “Do you think this was used on Suzette?”

Dr. Stevens took two steps forward, staggered, and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

“W
E CAN
'
T CALL
the family doctor when he
is
the family doctor,” Renie asserted as Judith bent over Dr. Stevens. “What'll we do?”

“He'll come around,” Judith said hopefully, “unless you want to go fetch some smelling salts.”

“No thanks,” Renie retorted, then gazed meaningfully at Judith. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“I'm wondering why we didn't think of it before,” Judith said in wonder. “Somehow, Theo Stevens is related to Suzette.”

“Grandson,” Renie said. “What else?”

Judith nodded as the doctor began to stir and groan. “I'm sure you're right.” She touched Dr. Stevens's forehead. “Are you okay? It's us. The cousins.”

Theo Stevens's eyes began to open. He looked as if he were in pain. “My God,” he moaned. “I…what…why?”

“Was she your grandmother?” Judith asked, supporting Dr. Stevens's head with her arm.

He gave a faint nod. “I shouldn't have come to the tower.”

“We shouldn't have, either,” Judith admitted. “The Burgess clan won't be happy about this.”

“Damn the Burgess clan!” Dr. Stevens burst out. He
sat up, his anger fueling his strength. “How could they? How could she?”

“She?” Judith stared at the doctor. “Who? Mrs. Burgess?”

Theo Stevens held his head. “Not Leota Burgess. Margaret Burgess. Walter's first wife.”

Judith gazed quickly around the room. There was fog outside the dirty windows; there was a different kind of fog inside, with its patina of dust and sad old memories. The cobwebs hung like the gauzy veil of a woman in mourning.

“Let's go downstairs,” Judith said hurriedly. “This place is playing havoc with my allergies. I'm all choked up.”

“So am I,” Theo Stevens said in a plaintive voice. But he got to his feet and led the way down the steps, never looking back. “Kenneth is fine,” the doctor said in his professional voice as they passed the second-floor bedroom. “His nerves are acting up. He's highly strung, like his sister, Caroline.”

By the time they reached the library, Dr. Stevens seemed to have regained his composure. He apologized for passing out. “I knew,” he said with a shake of his head, “but I never saw that room until now. Aaron told me it was closed up. I guess I was afraid to see it for myself.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Judith asked after the doctor had settled in behind the desk and she was seated in one of the wingback chairs. “Shall I send for coffee—or something stronger?”

“I'm all right,” the doctor replied. “And no, I don't want to talk about it.”

“Fine,” Judith said in a pleasant tone, then turned to Renie, who was sitting in the other wingback chair. “See if you agree, coz. Suzette—and I'm sorry I don't know her last name…”

“Saint-Etienne,” Dr. Stevens put in.

“Thanks. Suzette Saint-Etienne came to this country in the early thirties, probably because the Americans had withdrawn from Haiti, and she—”

“She came with Walter Burgess,” Dr. Stevens interrupted.

“Really?” Judith said, wide-eyed. “Did they meet on one of his foreign travels?”

“Yes.” Theo Stevens looked pained.

“He must have taken to her,” Judith smiled. “Were they in love?”

“He was,” the doctor replied. “Look, I told you I didn't want to discuss…”

Good-naturedly, Judith wagged a finger at him. “You don't have to. I'm just putting forth my theory.”

“You're doing fine,” Renie asserted. “So Walter was smitten with the beautiful Suzette and brought her to Creepers, right?”

“Exactly,” Judith agreed. “He gave her a position here as nanny to his children. Though perhaps there was only Peggy at first. I have to assume that Margaret Burgess was suspicious of the affair from the start. She must have hated Suzette, and after Wayne was born, I'm guessing that she had the passage between the master suites closed up. The marriage, in effect, was over.”

“But no divorce,” Renie said. “That would have been scandalous in the thirties. Maybe Margaret was still in love with Walter. She must have been insane with jealousy. Literally.”

Judith nodded, though she glanced at Dr. Stevens out of the corner of her eye. “I imagine. Who wouldn't be, in her position? She was a young woman with a faithless husband. Her social position was secure, but he was in love with another woman. Not only was she of an inferior class, but she was foreign—and black. I can imagine how galling all that was to Margaret. Like so many people of her generation, particularly, of her social standing, Margaret must have been a bigot.”

Judith glanced at Theo Stevens, who seemed to bristle at the comment. He remained silent, however, his face set in a hard line.

“The final blow must have come when Suzette got preg
nant,” Renie mused. “I wonder if she flaunted her condition in front of the mistress. Maybe there was a terrible scene. Margaret must have gone to Walter and demanded that Suzette be sent packing.”

“No.” Dr. Stevens spoke quietly but firmly. “It didn't happen that way. Or so Dr. Moss told me.”

“What did happen?” Judith asked in a mild voice.

Dr. Stevens's shoulders slumped. He took a deep breath, edged forward in the chair, and folded his hands on the desk. “Margaret imprisoned Suzette in that tower room. It
was
a prison—you saw that for yourselves. Suzette stayed there until her baby was born. Then—” The doctor's voice broke. “—Margaret murdered her.”

“Dear God,” Judith gasped. “I'd never have guessed that.”

Theo Stevens sat back in the chair. “According to Dr. Moss, Margaret strangled her. Suzette was weak from childbirth, and couldn't fight back. Margaret was a tall, strong woman, and motivated by hatred and jealousy. The baby was given to Dr. Moss to do with what he would. He and his wife raised the child, and changed his name to Stevens.”

“Saint-Etienne,” Renie murmured. “St. Stephen or Steven.”

“Yes.” Dr. Stevens smiled faintly. “It wasn't easy for a half-black boy to grow up in the all-white neighborhood that existed around Creepers sixty years ago. Dr. Moss had honored Suzette's request that he be named Toussaint, for Toussaint L'Ouverture, the great Haitian patriot. The other children called him Toast—for more than one reason.”

“Kids are so cruel,” Judith remarked. “What happened to him later in life?”

“Dr. and Mrs. Moss decided to send him away to military school,” Theo Stevens explained. “They thought it might be easier on him. It was, and he fell in love with the military way of life. He joined the army and rose to the rank of major before dropping dead of a heart attack at the age of thirty-eight, the same age I am now. As you've no doubt
guessed, he was my father. Dr. Moss felt he had to tell me about my history, especially if I was going to practice here.”

“I assumed you were the son,” Judith said. “Let's see—you were fourteen. That's a very bad age to lose a parent.”

Dr. Stevens's smile was ironic. “It is. At the time, we were stationed at Wiesbaden where I'd learned to speak German. My father was just four months short of putting in his twenty years, which meant that my mother didn't get his full retirement. We moved back here after he died. It was a real shock in some ways. Growing up in Germany on the base, I was fairly insulated. Not that there still wasn't prejudice—but as an army brat, there was also a sense of family. Except for the Mosses and my maternal grandmother, who was quite elderly, my mother and I had to start all over. It was hard. I was just entering high school, and though we'd moved into a racially mixed neighborhood, I was bused to a school that was virtually all white. It wasn't easy fitting in, especially since I'd grown up in a foreign country. I wasn't ‘cool'—I was merely strange.”

“A stranger in your own land,” Judith murmured.

“I've lived most of my life that way,” Theo Stevens said ruefully, “including out here by Sunset Cliffs. Maybe that's why I'll stay on. Not only do I owe Aaron a huge debt, but my real roots are here. I'm determined to finally fit in somewhere. Being of mixed race, at least in my experience, means you don't belong as black or white. You feel like you're in some never-never land.”

“Was your mother mixed, too?” Renie asked.

Dr. Stevens nodded. “She'd had a white ancestor a couple of generations back, though she felt more comfortable as a black woman.” His expression grew grim. “My mother died four years after we returned to the States. Someone broke into our house, and she surprised the thief. He bludgeoned her to death with an African carving my father had picked up in his travels.”

Renie was looking somber. “You've had more than your share. How have you managed to keep your sanity?”

“Dr. Moss,” Theo Stevens said simply. “He was always there for me. When my father was stationed in Europe while my mother was pregnant, Aaron insisted on having her fly home so he could deliver the baby. Then, after my parents were dead, he and Mrs. Moss paid for my education. They were surrogate grandparents. I'd just turned eighteen when my mother was killed. If it hadn't been for Aaron and his wife, I never could have gone to medical school.”

Renie had inched forward in the chair, chin on fists. “Who knows that you're aware of what happened to Suzette?”

“No one,” Dr. Stevens replied. “I wouldn't have told you, except for your discovery of the tower room. I've wondered about talking to the police, but I can't see what good it would do. Surely there's no connection between my grandmother's death and Aaron's.” He smiled weakly. “Maybe I needed to talk to somebody. Besides,” he added, his eyes misting a bit, “now that Aaron's gone, these old secrets don't seem to matter, do they?”

“They don't show the family in a good light,” Judith remarked.

Renie concurred. “Jealousy. Infidelity. Even murder—but all in the past. Still, the Burgesses wouldn't want the story broadcast, even though all the people involved are dead.”

The doctor gave the cousins a pitying look. “You really don't understand how these people think, how they see themselves. The fact that Margaret Burgess murdered my grandmother—it would rock the world of Sunset Cliffs.”

“She got away with it, though,” Renie said. “Was that because of her wealth and social status?”

Theo Stevens rose from the chair and turned his back to the cousins. He parted the heavy drapes to peer out at the fog-shrouded garden. “She didn't get away with it,” he said, finally facing Judith and Renie. “Two weeks later, Margaret Burgess killed herself.”

 

Dr. Stevens told the story as he had learned it from Dr. Moss. It was simple enough: Walter Burgess had been on a big-game hunting expedition for almost two months when he came home to find his mistress locked away in the tower. He was fearless in the board rooms of the city's largest industries, brave as any lion while on the scent, bold as a bandit in his corner office.

“But,” Dr. Stevens went on with an ironic twist to his mouth, “he couldn't stand up to his wife. Years later, Dr. Moss told me how Margaret would bully and humiliate him. It happened at least twice in front of Aaron, and he was horribly embarrassed for Walter.”

“That kind of public—or even private—behavior will drive any man into the arms of a more sympathetic woman,” Renie said. “My husband Bill has a name for that syndrome. He calls it—”

“Worse than nagging,” Judith put in, trying to head Renie off before she started in on Bill's theories. “Go on, Dr. Stevens. We're…fascinated.” Horrified, too, Judith thought. It was a terrible, tragic tale.

“Margaret threatened to expose her husband's affair and promised to release Suzette after the baby—my father—was born,” Theo Stevens continued. “She kept Walter away from Suzette the last few weeks of the pregnancy. Only Dr. Moss was allowed in, and he'd come away physically ill.”

The young doctor paused, passing his hands over his face as if he could see the horror for himself. “Then, when the baby was born, Margaret struck. Walter was undone. He suffered a nervous breakdown and took to his bed. No one knew about Suzette's murder except Margaret, Walter, and Dr. Moss. There had been no question of going to the police. What happened inside Creepers was private, a law unto itself. In an agony of conscience, Aaron agreed to keep silent. He had no choice, you see.” A pitying smile touched Theo's mouth. “A young doctor, just starting out—it would have been his word against the mighty Burgess clan. Maxwell was still alive, and though Aaron was never sure how
much the old man knew, he exerted enormous influence not just in the community, but the state.”

“Some things don't change,” Judith murmured. “Look at the media blackout on Dr. Moss's murder.”

Dr. Stevens gave Judith a bleak look. “This was even worse, because none of it ever came to light.” He cleared his throat before resuming his account. “Two weeks later, Margaret Burgess hanged herself in the tower, in the same tower room where she had murdered Suzette. The official word was that Margaret died of heart failure. Dr. Moss was compelled to sign the death certificate.”

“Poor man,” Judith sympathized. “What a burden he carried all those years.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Stevens replied. “I know that when he finally confided all this to me, it helped a little. He'd felt a moral obligation to write it all down and lock it away in his safe, to be opened only after his death.”

“That must be what the thief was after,” Renie put in.

“Of course,” Theo Stevens agreed. “But I couldn't say as much. Suzette may have been my grandmother, but it still wasn't my secret. It belonged to Dr. Moss.”

“Not anymore,” Judith asserted, her face set. “Eventually, this will all come out.”