Creeps Suzette (28 page)

“Your offer implied blackmail,” Renie said, dropping her voice as they stood outside the battered tower door.

“I had to think of something,” Judith murmured as she cautiously opened the door.

The only sound was the creaking of rusty hinges. The circular room was empty. Judith checked the closet, while Renie looked under the bed. They appeared to be all alone. Clouds had settled in again, and the small, dirty windows provided little illumination on this afternoon in late winter. Shadows crept across the floor, as if seeking to merge with the dusty cobwebs.

“Well?” Renie said as Judith sat down on the small cushioned seat between the two dormer windows. “Now what?”

“We wait. It's exactly four o'clock.” Judith sounded con
fident but her dark eyes darted in every direction. “We have to put in a few more pieces to finish the jigsaw.”

“I feel better standing up,” Renie said, planting both feet firmly in front of the fireplace.

“Fine,” Judith said, and then, despite herself, gave a start when the hinges groaned and the door swung open. With a swagger, Peggy Hillman entered the room.

“Hi,” Judith said from the window seat. “We're glad you're here.”

“Let's skip the chitchat,” Peggy said, her voice huskier than usual. “How much is it going to cost us to keep you two quiet and why should we pay you a red cent?”

“It's like this,” Judith said with a faint smile. “You've kept some deep, dark secrets for a very long time. We know all about Suzette, and what happened with your mother, Margaret Burgess. You were named for her, weren't you?”

“So?” Peggy's eyes narrowed as she perched uneasily on the narrow bed. “Why are you stirring up the past?”

“I told you,” Judith asserted. “We know what happened here, in this very room. So do you.”

With an abrupt swing of her head, Peggy turned away. “Let it be.”

“We'd like to,” Judith admitted. “It's a terrible story. But I think it has links to the present. That's what we want to find out from you.”

“No,” Peggy said, still staring off into the shadows. “You want money. Just like everybody else.”

“That was only a lure,” Judith said patiently. “We aren't blackmailers. All we want is the truth. You're the key, Peggy. You're a witness to what happened here over sixty years ago. I knew you wouldn't speak up unless I resorted to drastic measures.”

Slowly, Peggy turned to face Judith. “I honestly don't remember much about what happened with Suzette. I was very, very young.”

“You remember that your mother killed her,” Judith said softly.

Peggy's eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “I remember no such thing. It was never mentioned.”

Judith hesitated, trying to gauge Peggy's state of mind. “You knew, all the same. You must remember your mother's death two weeks later.”

The hostility in Peggy's manner faded as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I remember that.” She swallowed hard and stared at Judith, then at Renie. There was a glint in her blue eyes, a fire that seemed to consume rather then light up Peggy's face. “My mother hanged herself here.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “There are no chairs, you see. There was one in this room then, an oak railback chair that was part of an old kitchen set. My mother stood on it and put a noose around her neck and tied it to that hook in the ceiling.”

Judith and Renie stared at the sturdy iron hook that had probably once held a lantern.

“Then,” Peggy went on, now staring at the floor, “she kicked the chair out from under her.”

Judith nodded. “Yes, I see how that could have happened.”

Peggy twisted around and glared at Judith. “No. You don't see anything. You can imagine it, but you don't see it. I do—because I found her.”

Judith let out a little gasp. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“You do now.” Peggy's face had hardened. “Isn't that what you wanted to find out? All the grisly, humiliating details?”

“Not exactly,” Judith said, looking abject. “Goodness, you were—what? Two, three?”

“Three,” Peggy answered. “Just three, the week before. I'd gotten a dollhouse for my birthday. I was alone. Our nanny—Suzette—had died, and my tower room was next to the nursery. Even though Wayne was barely a toddler, I didn't want him wrecking my dollhouse, so I brought it into my room. I was playing with it when I heard the thud from just over my head.” She stopped, staring up at the ominous iron hook. “I was kind of a bold little thing. I
came up the stairs to see what made the noise. Maybe I thought it was Wayne. He'd just learned to walk, but he was timid. I knew I could scare him away.”

Peggy paused again, a hand over her eyes. “The door was unlocked. I never thought it odd at the time—you don't reason things through when you're only three. I went inside and…” The hand pressed against her mouth.

“I am sorry,” Judith said, a miserable note in her voice. “If you don't want to talk about it anymore, we'll change the subject.”

Peggy didn't speak right away. At last, the hand slipped into her lap. “I smashed the dollhouse to pieces. I took one of the fireplace tools and beat on it until it was destroyed.”

“Then the dollhouse in the nursery…?” Puzzled, Judith let the question hang.

“That dollhouse,” said Renie, moving away from the hearth, “is an older one, which didn't belong to you. Your Aunt Virginia's, maybe?”

Peggy nodded. “Aunt Ginny played with it when she was a little girl. It had been specially made, a replica of Creepers itself. I wanted a new dollhouse, all my very own. Papa ordered it just for me.”

“Ah,” Judith said, grateful for Renie's visual perception. “But you didn't quite abandon your aunt's dollhouse, did you, Peggy?”

“What do you mean?” Peggy snapped. “I never played with a dollhouse again. Not anybody's, not even at my friends'.”

“I think you did,” Judith said deliberately. “I think you and Charlie Ward used to come up to the nursery and drink. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was a form of rebellion, maybe you were drawn to it because of what happened to your mother and Suzette. The nursery wasn't used by the younger generation, because you and your brother had your own houses. Anyway, you'd stash your Scotch bottles under the floor. One time, you must have gotten very drunk.

“Excuse me,” Judith said quickly as she saw the protest on Peggy's face, “please let me finish. You told Charlie the
whole story. You even made a ghastly little joke out of it, with a doll and some plastic blood. Afterward, you realized what a huge mistake you'd made. But Charlie was your husband, you'd sworn him to secrecy. Married couples shouldn't keep secrets from each other—except this was different. It revealed that your mother was a murderess.”

“You're making this up,” Peggy declared angrily. “What's your point?”

“The point is,” Judith replied, “that you and Charlie didn't remain husband and wife. You divorced, and both of you remarried. Charlie and the second Mrs. Ward didn't make a go of it. You were widowed by Zane Crowley when he was killed in Vietnam. Then you married Russ Hillman.”

Sliding off the bed and waving her arms, Peggy started for the door. “I don't need to hear my marital history. I know it by heart. Spare me.”

“I can't,” Judith said helplessly. “I wish I could.”

Halfway across the room, Peggy stopped. “What do you mean?” The husky voice was breathless.

“Charlie Ward wasn't an ambitious man, and he claimed to have hurt his back so he couldn't work. You inherited a large sum of money when your father died. Charlie wanted his piece of the pie. He threatened to expose the family. So,” Judith concluded, her voice breaking slightly, “you ran him down with your car.”

Peggy burst out laughing, though there was no mirth in the sound. “What a crock! Some kid from the college or a drunk from the riffraff on the highway ran poor Charlie down. Everyone knows that.”

“Not quite everyone,” Judith said sadly. “Dr. Moss knew better. That's why you had to kill him, too.”

Judith hadn't known what to expect. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Renie searching the hearth, perhaps in search of one of the fireplace tools that Peggy had used to destroy her precious dollhouse.

But Peggy merely laughed some more. “You're a real pair of loons. Do you have any proof? And even if you had some ratty little scraps of evidence, who'd believe you?
You're nobody. I'm a Burgess.” Her eyes narrowed at Judith and Renie. “Do you know what that means?”

“It means,” Judith said slowly, “that your mother got away with murder. But that doesn't mean you will.”

“Doesn't it? You're a fool.” Peggy turned on her heel and left the tower.

“Is she right?” Renie asked, looking shaken.

Judith's shoulders sagged. “I don't know. Anything's possible when you're rich. But I certainly intend to tell Joe. And Edwina, of course.”

With heavy steps, Judith and Renie left the tower. As they came from the passageway that led into the hall, they could hear raised voices in the entryway. Mystified, the cousins looked at each other, then hurried toward the commotion.

Edwina Jefferson was putting handcuffs on Peggy Hillman, who was swearing at the top of her lungs. “I'm arresting you for the murder of Dr. Aaron Moss. Anything you say may be held against you in a court of law…”

“How dare you?” Peggy screamed. “I'll sue! I'll see that you lose your job! You can't do this to me! You're…black!”

Edwina chuckled, but her usual good humor was absent. “Honey, I could bust you if I were purple,” she said, propelling Peggy across the entry hall. “Maybe it's more fun because I
am
black. You know how lackadaisical and fun-loving we all are in the watermelon patch.”

Arms crossed and leaning against the far wall was Joe Flynn, looking bemused. Judith hurried to join him.

“What happened?” she whispered as Peggy was dragged through the front entrance, where an incredulous Kenyon stood sentry.

Joe shrugged. “The perp went down. That's how it works.”

“But…How did Edwina figure it out?” Judith asked, utterly bewildered.

“Let's get you that drink from the drawing room,” Joe said. “Wayne's in there, having a second or maybe a third
stiff shot, which I gather is unusual for him.”

“He can use it,” Renie murmured, as she trudged along behind the Flynns.

Wayne Burgess was slumped on the sofa, a glass in one hand, the other holding his head. “Are they gone?” he asked in a toneless voice.

“They are,” Joe said, going to the bar. “Do you mind?”

Wayne shook his head, but said nothing.

Judith waited until Joe had poured the drinks. Feeling sorry for Wayne, whose troubles ranged from filial to marital to financial, she sat down beside him.

“So tell us,” Judith urged as Joe and Renie seated themselves in two of the silk-covered armchairs.

“The usual. Hard work and plenty of interviews.” Joe paused to sip his Scotch. “But it wasn't just Edwina. It was Danny Wong.”

“Danny?” Renie echoed. “Number Three Son always seemed like the silent partner.”

“Maybe,” Joe grinned, “but that's what Woody was sometimes called when we partnered. Keeping your mouth shut doesn't mean you can't solve crimes.”

“So how did Danny solve it?” Judith asked, her curiosity rampant.

Joe settled back in the chair. “When Charlie Ward was killed, Danny was enrolled in law enforcement classes at Sunset Community College. I don't know if you've checked out the road between the golf course and the campus, but it's a long, straight two-lane stretch. Now remember, Danny was just a kid, eighteen, maybe nineteen. He'd finished his class and just pulled out from the college. Danny got behind an old clunk that was going too slow for his teenage taste. He wanted to pass it, but there was a big Lincoln Town Car coming in the opposite direction at an extremely slow speed. Danny was temporarily stuck behind the clunk. A minute later he saw another car pulled off to his side of the road. There weren't any flashers on it, so he didn't stop. Danny, I should point out, had a late date that night.”

“So far, I'm following you,” Judith commented. “Go on.”

“The following quarter,” Joe resumed, “Danny's class was using case histories of certain types of situations, including hit-and-run accidents. It was only natural that the instructor chose the Ward fatality, since it had occurred so close to the campus. They could walk to the scene for their field trip.”

“You mean they solved it?” Judith asked, gaping at Joe.

“No, no,” Joe chuckled. “Nothing so simple. The point is, Danny vividly remembered the incident and even the Lincoln, which he recognized when he and Edwina went over it for possible evidence.”

“Dr. Moss's Lincoln,” Renie put in. “How did he know it was the same one he saw that night?”

“He didn't,” Joe replied. “But it seemed like more than a coincidence, especially when he realized that Peggy Hillman's ex had been the hit-and-run victim. That got him to wondering, and of course Edwina jumped on it when he told her.”

Judith felt her stomach lurch. “Wait a minute. You don't mean that Dr. Moss was the one who…?”

Joe shook his head. “No. It turned out that, according to Kenyon, of all people, Charlie Ward was coming to see Peggy at The Willows. Charlie jokingly mentioned to Kenyon that he might end up walking from his place up north because he was having car problems.”

“Real—or manufactured?” Judith asked.

Joe shrugged. “Unless Charlie's car is still around somewhere, only Peggy can answer that.”

“I understand now why Peggy had to get Caroline out of the house that night,” Judith said. “She couldn't afford to have her daughter know that Charlie was coming to blackmail her mother.”