Death on the Family Tree (21 page)

She pointed him toward the downstairs bathroom and took Dane upstairs with her while she changed. “You are here to protect me,” she reminded the dog. But she locked her door before she stripped.

She slipped on a white shirt and some comfortable striped sand pants, then took a few minutes to blow-dry her new hairstyle into fluffy waves. When she finally ran barefoot down the stairs, Hasty sat at the breakfast room table drinking iced tea.

“Well, make yourself at home,” she said sarcastically.

“I did,” he said with perfect equanimity. “You saving that cake for something special?”

She sighed, thinking of her ruined birthday celebration. “I was, but we might as well eat it.”

Katharine could see why scientists claimed chocolate was good for women. After a big slice of chocolate cake with sticky fudge icing, they were both so mellow they chatted idly about this and that. She even dared to ask, “Did you think about what I said, about calling Melissa and Kelly to come down for a visit?”

“I’m thinking about it. I don’t have a place for them to stay, though. When I got down here, I was so mad at Melissa and in such a hurry to start the semester, I took the first place I found. It’s tiny. But my lease is up in August. I thought I’d look for something bigger and maybe invite them down then.”

If he thought she’d invite them to stay with her, he had another think coming. “Atlanta has a hotel or two,” she pointed out. “Or you could find a bigger place and sublet the little one.”

“Maybe.” She could still read his face. He didn’t want to talk about it.

The doorbell rang. “Grand Central Station,” Kate muttered, heading to the hall. And to think, three hours earlier she had thought that day was boring.

Hollis stood on the veranda with Amy behind her. Both looked strained and Amy had tear-stained cheeks and damp lashes. Her birthday hairdo was a thing of the past. Long straight hair hung limp and lifeless on both sides of her pallid face and she clutched one hand to her throat, as if afraid Katharine might throttle her instead of inviting her in. The sophisticated young woman of Wednesday had become a child with woebegone brown eyes and a clownish red nose.

Make that a child dressed in what Katharine knew for a fact was a five hundred dollar powder-blue cotton sundress with a matching sweater and three hundred dollar powder-blue sandals. It had been years since she had catalogued things by their price. Was Hasty making her look at her world through new eyes? Or was she getting back her old ones?

Hollis was wearing a red-and-black long skirt, a black T-shirt, and her black flip-flops.

Katharine stood back to let them in. “Come on back to the breakfast room. I’m eating cake.” Not until they got to the kitchen did she remember Hasty.

When Hollis saw him at the table, she turned back toward the door. “I didn’t know you had company.”

“I don’t.” Katharine took her arm and dragged her back. “This is Hobart Hastings, the Emory history professor. You all met Wednesday, remember? We’ve been talking about the diary. Sit down and let me get you a piece of cake and a glass of tea. Or would you rather have hot tea?” Amy’s teeth were chattering and she was shaking like she was naked on an ice floe.

Hollis, on the other hand, looked flushed and warm. Katharine hoped that wasn’t because of Hasty. She also hoped Hollis didn’t notice that she and Hasty were both barefoot and his hair damp, or that his bathing suit lay wrapped in a towel on the countertop. She shielded it with her body and carried it into the laundry room. He watched with a smug grin.

“Hot tea, please.” Hollis collapsed into the chair beside Hasty and smoothed back her hair with both hands, an unexpectedly sensual gesture. As Katharine filled the kettle, she noticed that Hollis had cheered up enough that day to paint her nails bright red.

“So what do you teach?” Hollis asked, leaning on her elbows and leaning toward Hasty in what Katharine could only call a seductive pose.

“European history,” he told her.

Amy sat down across from him. “You were Zach’s advisor. Zach Andrews? He graduated last month. Do you remember?”

Hasty grimaced. “My memory may be slipping, but it stretches back that far. Zach would make a fine historian, if he applied himself. Tended to be a bit lazy, though. What’s he doing now?”

“Working for the Ivorie Foundation. You know, my brother, Brandon.” Amy took it for granted that everybody knew her brother, Brandon.

Hollis turned to Katharine, “I hope you don’t mind us just showing up, but we’re worried, and we can’t talk at my house or Amy’s.” She bent to stroke Dane, who was leaning against her leg.

“Of course.” Katharine fetched mugs and two tea bags. When the kettle boiled, she poured steaming water into Hollis’s mug and held the kettle aloft. “Do you want hot tea, too, Amy?”

Amy brushed away her tears. “Do you have herbal tea? Caffeine is so bad for you.”

“Somewhere.” Katharine rummaged in the pantry and found an assortment of herbal teas Susan had bought last time she was home. She poured water into a mug for Amy, fetched sugar and milk and spoons, and added a dish for their used bags. Then she cut two slices of cake and found forks and napkins. Neither girl made a move to help. If she ever needed to go to work, Katharine reflected, maybe she could get taken on at a Waffle House.

She had just sat down beside Hasty when Amy asked, “Do you have honey?” Katharine returned to the pantry for a clear plastic bear with a yellow hat that doubled as a spout. She set it before Amy, who was staring at her tea bag, but making no move to open it or put it in the water. She seemed to take seriously the concept of being waited on hand and foot. However, Katharine had done all the waiting she intended to do. She slid into the seat across from Hollis. “So, what’s happened?”

Hollis looked at Amy. “Zach has disappeared!” Amy declared. “He—he’s not anywhere,” she added, in case there was something about the word “disappeared” the grown-ups didn’t grasp. Tears filled her eyes. “Papa and Brandon have had the police looking for him since yesterday, but nobody can find him.”

“Maybe he’s with his parents,” Katharine suggested.

The tears spilled out onto her cheeks. “No, ma’am. They’re on a Baltic cruise.”

Katharine didn’t trust herself to look at Hasty. She looked at Hollis instead. Hollis’s eyes were surprisingly dry. Maybe she was too worried to cry?

Hasty reached over, unwrapped Amy’s tea bag and dipped it in and out of the water, then wrung it out efficiently with a spoon and laid it in the bowl. He squeezed in some honey and pushed Amy’s tea toward her hand. “Here, drink this. It will make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better except finding Zach,” Amy declared. But she obediently sipped the tea, alternating sips with heavy sniffles through her nose.

Katharine looked from one girl to the other. Hollis shrugged. “Maybe you’ve already figured it out, but I’m not dating Zach, Amy is. Her family would freak out if they knew, though, so we’ve been pretending.”

“I’m not just dating him,” Amy corrected her, chin in the air. “I am going to marry him. Just as soon as Mama has time to go see the lawyer.”

“Amy came into a trust fund from her father on her birthday,” Hollis explained, “but her mother has been too busy to take her down to the lawyer to sign all the papers.”

“Then we are going to get married.” Amy gave a watery smile, her cheeks pink.

It seemed to Katharine that a woman old enough to inherit a trust fund and get married ought to be mature enough to take herself down to the lawyer’s to sign her own papers, but she didn’t mention that. She also feared that Zach wasn’t marrying Amy for her watery charms. Was he working for the Ivories in order to worm his way into their graces, so they wouldn’t object to the marriage? After all, what Amy got from her father would be peanuts compared to what she would inherit from her mother’s side of the family one day.

So why had Zach disappeared?

Hasty reached for a box of tissues and handed it to Amy. “Blow your nose and let’s think where he might have gone.”

Fathering a daughter had apparently taught him some skills, for Amy sat up at once, blew her nose, and obediently began to speak. “He’s not at his apartment, because the police went over there, and he’s not at work, because Brandon is furious, and he’s not at his parents’ because the police looked there, too. Besides, they are on—”

“A Baltic cruise,” Hasty finished for her, looking at Katharine.

She concealed her snort of laughter with a cough. “Couldn’t he be at a friend’s house?” she asked. “Or visiting grandparents? Or maybe he’s out of town on private business.”

“What kind of business?” Hollis narrowed her eyes as she looked at her aunt.

“Selling your Uncle Tom’s jade,” Katharine felt like saying. Hollis must know that was what she suspected. Instead she shrugged. “You all would know better than we would.”

Amy swabbed her eyes and shook her head. “He doesn’t have any business except Brandon’s, and I don’t know about his friends or relatives. He never mentioned any. You don’t know who they are do you?” she asked Hasty.

He shook his head. “Sorry. That never came up in conferences.”

She sat up straighter in her chair and said with pathetic dignity, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Murray, for falling apart like this. You are very nice to let us come over.”

As if Katharine had had any say in the matter.

“Would you all like to talk privately?” she suggested to Hollis.

Hollis’s gaze flitted from her to Hasty and back. Did she think Katharine was asking for private time with him?

“Hobart was about to leave,” Katharine said firmly.

Hollis stood. “Then come on, Amy, let’s go to the library.” She pushed back her chair.

“I need to use the powder room first,” Amy said primly.

Hollis waited until she was gone, then leaned forward and asked, “Are you staying here tonight? Mama said you are.”

Katharine was touched by the worry in her eyes, but was there a bit of fear, as well? What did Hollis know? And how could she encourage her to tell it?

“I can’t go on staying with your folks forever.” She tried for a light tone.

“But if somebody came in—” Hollis broke off, her voice strained.

“—if he came for the necklace and didn’t get it, he may come back,” Hasty added.

“I’ve got Dane.” Katharine bent and stroked the soft ears. He gave a low “woof.”

“I’m staying over.” Hollis’s expression was belligerent. Katharine suspected she thought Hasty was fixing to offer the same ser vice.

“Or I could take the necklace and keep it safe,” he suggested with a sideways glance at Katharine.

“The necklace is safe and I have Dane,” she told them both with more confidence than she felt—and, she suspected, a whole lot more than she would feel around eleven that night. As much to convince herself as them, she said firmly, “He’s not going to let anybody in the house. Now you need to leave,” she told Hasty, “and you need to talk to Amy,” she reminded Hollis. “I’m sorry about Zach,” she added, “but he’ll probably turn up in a day or two.”

“I hope so,” Hollis said soberly. “Otherwise, I don’t know what Amy might do.”

After the girls went to the den, Katharine expected Hasty to leave. Instead, as he carried his dishes to the sink, he noticed the bag she had gotten from the telephone store. “Are you swapping out a telephone?”

“No, I plan to install one, if I can figure out how. I want one in my new study.”

“Show me where, ma’am. I’ll have it done in a jiffy.”

Hasty always had been handy, and she did want the phone installed, so Katharine led him to the music room. While he was working, Hollis and Amy came out and Hollis decided that was as good a time as any to get the room ready for the painters. Katharine suspected that had something to do with not leaving her alone with Hasty. By the time he had the phone installed, Hollis and Katharine—supervised by Amy—had rolled the rug and moved it and the secretary into the front hall and had taped old sheets over the bookshelves.

After that, it would have been churlish to send them home unfed. Katharine ordered pizza and they ate out by the pool. Amy had a few qualms about eating pizza made by human hands she was not absolutely certain had been thoroughly washed, but once they got past that objection, supper was a lighthearted meal. Katharine was almost sorry when it was over. As they rose to carry things back in, the telephone rang. She ran in to answer, leaving the others to clear up.

“Katharine?” It was Tom, his voice concerned. “Are you all right? Posey called this afternoon and said you had a break-in. I’d have called earlier, but things are real hairy up here, getting ready for the meeting, and I just listened to my messages.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Somebody broke in Friday night while I was asleep, but I heard him downstairs, so I went to Jon’s hideout and locked the bolt. Then I called the police on my cell phone. I really am fine.” She noticed she was reassuring him as she always did that she was perfectly able to cope while he was away, so she added, “But it was terrifying at the time—one of the scariest experiences of my life. I sure wished you were here.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t.” The words were the right ones, but he sounded as if his attention had drifted away. Then she heard voices in the background and knew he was still at the office, making final preparations for their big meeting. “Did they take anything?” he asked. When she hesitated, he added, “Posey said you’d have to tell me about that.”

Bother Posey. Why couldn’t she have let Katharine tell Tom in her own time and her own way?

She sighed. “I didn’t plan to tell you until after your meeting, but whoever it was got your jade.”

“All of it?” He sounded like somebody was choking him.

“Every last piece. I’m real sorry, honey.”

He was silent for a long minute. “Nothing you could have done, I suppose.” She got the impression he himself would have managed to think of something. “Did he get anything else?”

“Nothing I’ve missed yet, except a diary I found among Aunt Lucy’s things.”

She realized with a shock that while the necklace and diary had occupied most of her thoughts and time for the past four days, Tom didn’t even know they existed. Nor was he interested in a diary right that minute.

“Have they caught whoever it was?” When she admitted they hadn’t, he said, “Call the police tomorrow and tell them to get a jump on it. And take them the pictures from the safe-deposit box. Maybe they can trace at least some of the jade. And you need to—”

“I’m dealing with it,” she said sharply, “just like I always deal with emergencies when you aren’t here. Don’t hassle me, Tom, when you aren’t around to pick up some of the load.”

Silence flowed from D.C. to Atlanta. Finally he asked, “You aren’t staying at the house until they catch him, are you?”

“I stayed with Posey for two nights. Now I’ve borrowed Dane. He’ll protect me.”

His voice grew sharp. “You aren’t letting that dog in the house, are you?”

“Well, yes. He wouldn’t be much protection in the backyard.”

“He’ll pee on the rugs. Keep him out of the music room.”

“I’ve moved the music room rug. It’s rolled up in your office for you to decide what to do with when you get home.”

“Why on earth—” His voice was baffled.

He probably didn’t want to discuss rugs at the moment, but she told him anyway. “I’m turning the music room into my study, so I’ve bought a new rug I like better.”

“Will I like it?”

“I have no idea. It’s not your study.”

She missed his reply, because the girls and Hasty came into the kitchen just then, laughing and talking loudly. “Who’s that?” Tom asked.

She was tempted to retort, “I don’t ask who is talking in your background.” Instead she lowered her voice, hoping the others couldn’t hear. “Hollis, a friend of hers, and a history prof I ran into at the history center last week. They came over for a while and stayed for pizza. He installed a new phone in my new study.”

“You’d better have somebody check it out. I doubt a history professor knows much about installing phones. Well, I need to go. I’m sorry about the jade, but I’m glad you’re okay. Listen, why don’t you fly up here for a few days? You can visit museums or something while I’m at work, and I’ll feel a lot better without you in the house by yourself until they catch that guy. See what time you can get a flight and let my office know when you’ll be coming in.”

Katharine almost said yes, but then she remembered that she needed to talk to Dutch Monday and wanted to take the necklace to their safe-deposit box. Hollis’s painters were coming Tuesday and would need at least two days, and she had to meet with Dr. Flo’s cousin on Thursday. “I’m sorry, hon, but I’m tied up until Thursday afternoon. Could you come home early? Or could I fly up Thursday and we could go somewhere for a long weekend?”

If he had begged her to come, she would have canceled everything in a heartbeat. Instead, he said in a surprised tone, “What’s so all-fired important?”

“My life,” she said before she thought. “Everything is not about you, Tom.”

Hasty spoke right over her shoulder, and she wondered how long he’d been there. “We’re going, Kate. Will you be all right?”

“Who’s that?” Tom demanded.

She gestured for Hasty to move away. “The history prof.” She ignored Hasty’s snort and said quickly, “Listen, I need to go. Can I call you back later?”

“No, a bunch of us are heading out to eat, then we want to wind up loose ends for tomorrow’s meeting. I’ll call you tomorrow night and tell you how it went. We can make plans then. Goodnight.”

It was not a satisfactory call, but she’d gotten used to that, being apart so much. Some calls were good, some were so-so, and some were the pits. That one hovered on the brink of the pits.

Katharine and her guests moved to the front hall. “You’ll be all right?” Hasty asked again at the front door.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“Shall I come back tomorrow to work on the diary? I could even take one of the copies with me and get a head start.”

“You made copies?” Hollis asked from behind Kate. “So it’s not a total loss?”

“I made copies,” Katharine told her, “but it may be a total loss. Hasty thinks it’s not very old and certainly not valuable.”

“So why are you translating it?” Her eyes roved speculatively from one to the other.

“Because it’s still a historical document,” Katharine said.

“Because it’s there,” Hasty added with a grin. “You’ll talk to Dutch, Kate?”

“Tomorrow at the latest,” she promised. “Good night.”

“What could Uncle Dutch know?” Hollis demanded as Hasty headed down the steps.

Katharine shrugged. “Probably nothing, but he knew Aunt Lucy and her friends.”

Amy stepped from behind Hollis and held out her hand. “Thank you so much, Katharine. I had a really good time.”

Katharine couldn’t remember the last time somebody Amy’s age had shaken her hand as they left a casual event—probably when Jon was about twelve.

“I wasn’t real good company,” Amy continued, “since Zach—” She blinked away tears “—you know. But you all helped me forget for a little while. He’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

When Hollis stayed behind, Katharine asked, “Didn’t you all come together?”

“Yeah.” Hollis fondled Dane’s ears. “But I’m staying. I don’t want you here by yourself.”

Did she think Hasty was coming back? Or was she worried that Zach might return for the necklace?

“I don’t need you,” Katharine said firmly. “I have to start staying by myself again some time, so I might as well start now. I’ve got Dane. Amy,” she called loudly so the girl could hear. “Wait a minute. Hollis needs a ride.”

As she closed the door and locked it, Katharine reflected that if she didn’t take control of her own life, there were a lot of people willing to run it for her.

She considered watching TV, but in spite of her brave words, she didn’t feel like sitting in a big empty house for two or three hours waiting for bedtime. She’d go see Dutch. It wasn’t yet nine, and that old night owl wouldn’t go to bed for ages.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised Dane as she went for her keys. She took Lucy’s oldest album and one copy of the diary along.

Dutch greeted her in a faded bathrobe, blue striped pajamas, and slippers so old and tatty that the Salvation Army would have turned them down. When he saw who it was, he took her arm and dragged her into the room, looking both ways to make sure nobody was watching. “Don’t want the hall biddies getting the wrong idea,” he said gruffly. “They talk enough as it is. To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?”

“I was a little lonesome, to tell the truth. Tom didn’t get home—remember? And you’re one of the few people I know whom I can visit this late.”

“Well, sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

“Which isn’t exactly easy, is it?” she teased, heading for a scruffy old sofa that she knew had spent years down in his basement.

In contrast to the elegance of Autumn Village and the comfortable living quarters of most of its residents, Dutch’s living room was Spartan. With his usual stubbornness, he had brought only his favorite things to his new home: the scruffy sofa, a massive walnut desk, his computer and printer, a gray metal filing cabinet, several mismatched bookshelves, a small kitchen table and two chairs that had also been relegated to the basement years before, and a wide-screen TV. Not one picture hung on the walls. He had placed the desk in the best spot in the room, over by the window where the light was strong, and had filled the shelves with books and untidy stacks of papers. Books and papers also overflowed the desk and sat in piles on the floor, for Dutch spent most of his time working on genealogy or minutes for various committees.

“That was the most comfortable couch we ever owned, I’ll have you know,” Dutch insisted, waving her toward the sagging cushions. “Would you like some sherry or a Coke?”

Katharine accepted the sherry. Dutch always bought the best. Besides, maybe it would loosen him up so he’d reveal more than he might otherwise.

He brought the drinks in Waterford crystal. “See? I still retain a remnant of culture.” He sat down at the other end of the couch. “What you been up to?” She told him about translating the diary, but didn’t mention Hasty’s contributions.

“I’ve been wondering who wrote it,” she concluded. “It seems to be an Austrian. Do you remember any Austrian woman Carter was involved with while he was over there?”

He pursed his lips and made a soft “pooh, pooh, pooh,” bobbing his head while he thought. “No,” he said finally. “There were a bunch of fellahs who went around together: Carter, Lee and Donk Western, and that Austrian fellah who went to Sewanee—I still can’t remember his name. There were a few girls around, as well, but I can’t think of anybody special. Besides, Carter never paid women much attention. He was always bookish. Lucy used to tease him that if a man could marry a library, he’d be first in line.”

“Well, let me ask you another question. Did you have a nickname back in college?”

“Dutch. Mama called me Lionel, but nobody else did after first grade. My teacher read out my name as ‘Lionel’ and the kid behind me started whispering ‘Choo-choo, choo-choo, choo-choo.’ That made me so mad, I told her I was called by my second name. She pronounced it Dutch instead of Deutsch, and I’ve been Dutch ever since.” He chuckled. “I bloodied the nose of that other kid at recess, too.”

“Were you never called ‘L-squared,’ for L. L.?”

“Not to my face. Why?”

“Because somebody in the diary was, and I thought it might be you.” She didn’t add how relieved she was that he wasn’t the one who had arranged a seduction.

“I can’t recall anybody called L-squared, but it seems like—” He paused. Finally he said with regret in his voice, “Nope. I thought I had an idea, but it took a hike. Happens more and more these days. If you ask me, we’ve got too much to remember.”

It was his favorite complaint, so Katharine sipped her sherry and let him rumble on. Finally he demanded, “What happened to plain ‘off’ and ‘on’ switches? If I was younger, you know what I’d do? I’d start a company making a line of simple products that just do what most people need them to. I don’t need ten temperatures on my microwave or a television and alarm clock I can program. So long as the microwave heats coffee and makes popcorn, the TV changes channels and has a volume control, and the alarm clock wakes me up, that’s all I need. If I was a little younger—”

“If you were younger, you’d still be running your brokerage firm,” she reminded him. “Why don’t you and some of your poker buddies go ahead and start that company?”

“Don’t be silly. We’ve been put out to pasture.” But his eyes were thoughtful behind his trifocals.

“Tell me about Carter,” she ordered. “This is his picture, right?” She handed him the album.

Dutch fetched a magnifying glass from his desk and peered at the pictures. Then he chuckled. “Yep, that’s him all right. The short girl is Lucy and the one hanging on to him for dear life is Sara Claire.” He scrutinized the pictures again. “Can’t blame her, really. Carter was a handsome devil, wasn’t he? Of course, she switched to that other feller—the Austrian whose name I can’t remember—when Carter wasn’t interested.”

Katharine turned the page to the wedding pictures and put a finger on one face. “Is that you? You weren’t too bad-looking yourself back then.”