Miss Julia Paints the Town (4 page)

“Here you are,” Hazel Marie said, as she pushed through the kitchen door the next morning, a cheery smile on her face. “I just dropped Lloyd off at the tennis courts, where he'll probably be all day. Any coffee left?”

“Yessum,” Lillian said, pushing herself up from her chair. “I get you some.”

“You stay right there,” Hazel Marie told her. “I'll get it. Listen, y'all, this town is buzzing with talk. I mean, even at school yesterday morning all the teachers were talking about Richard Stroud. I hadn't seen the paper, so I didn't know a thing about it until I heard what they said.” She pulled out a chair at the table and joined us. “And what about the mayor? From what they were saying, people're ready to impeach him or recall him or something. Nobody wants to tear down the old courthouse.” She grinned. “But nobody wants to put up money to fix it, either.”

“We've been talking about the same things,” I said. “I don't know what this town is coming to. It just beats anything I've ever seen, what with New Jersey developers coming in with bulldozers and the mayor having no sense of history. To say nothing of what's going on with the Strouds and the Conovers.”

Hazel Marie's head jerked up. “What's going on with the Conovers?”

Lillian said, “Uh-oh.”

“Oh, me.” I leaned my head against my hand. “Looks like I can't keep anything to myself. I don't know what's the matter with me. Hazel Marie, you can't tell a soul, but Leonard has moved out and LuAnne is just beside herself.”

“Moved out?” Hazel Marie whispered, her eyes wide with shock. “Where to?”

“I don't know. I forgot to ask.”

Hazel Marie frowned. “I wouldn't think he had it in him.”

“Well, me, either,” I said. “And I'm sure it won't last long. I mean, what will he do all by himself? Of course, LuAnne's convinced he has another woman somewhere.” I smiled wryly at the thought. “I can just imagine who.”

“Who?” Hazel Marie asked.

“Who what?”

“Who does she think the other woman is?”

“Oh,” I said, waving my hand dismissively, “her first thought was Helen Stroud…”

“Helen!” Hazel Marie levitated from her chair.

“No, no, wait. I said it was her first thought, but of course it's not Helen. She wouldn't have him on a silver platter.” Concern for Helen swept over me again. “Hazel Marie, I am just worried sick over that woman. I've called her and gone over there and I can't get in touch with her. Everybody's trying to find her to see what she knows, including a newspaper reporter who was hiding in that privet hedge I wish she'd get rid of. I don't know what to do.”

“Oh, it's just awful about Richard,” Hazel Marie said. “I hope…”

“Knock, knock, anybody home?” James, who'd worked for Sam for years, opened the back door and stuck his head inside. “Oh, 'scuse me, Miss Julia, I didn't know you in here. How you do? Hey, Miss Hazel Marie, Miss Lillian.”

Lillian's eyes rolled up in her head at the sound of his voice. A grim look settled on her face, as she lowered her head and heaved an exasperated sigh. She rarely had the time of day for James, but he popped in at our house often enough to make me wonder about his intentions, as well as her reception of them.

“Come in, James,” I said. “It's nice to see you. If you came to visit Lillian, we can leave you two alone.”

As I picked up my cup and motioned to Hazel Marie, Lillian gave me an imploring look just as James said, “No'm, I don't mean to in'errupt yo' coffee-drinkin', I jus' hear something that make my blood run cold an' Mr. Sam not home, so I stopped off here to tell somebody about it.”

“Isn't Sam at his house?” I asked. “That's where he said he'd be, though why he's working on a Saturday, I don't know.”

“Well, yessum, he come this mornin', but he say he have to go downtown an' he went. An' I went to the sto' to get him some snacks he like…”

“Snacks!” I said. “He's not supposed to be snacking, he's supposed to be working. James, he'll ruin his dinner if you feed him all day.”

“No'm, I don't all day, jus' ever' now and then to keep his stren'th up.”

But Hazel Marie wasn't interested in Sam's eating habits. “What made your blood run cold, James?”

“It all over the grocery sto',” he said, his eyes getting wide with the thought of what he'd heard. “Folks all talkin' in the aisles an' at the meat counter, an' somebody say it'll be in the paper in the morning. So I'm not tellin' anything don't nobody else know.” He paused, perhaps to be sure he had our full attention. “They talkin' about one of them sheriff's deputies findin' a car what'd run off Blake Mountain Road up where it twist an' turn 'fore it run into the interstate, an' that car ended up 'way down the side of the mountain in a gully, like. Nobody know how long it been there, it bein' all smashed up and wrecked and stuck down in a creek with bushes all around it. But wasn't nobody in it or nowhere around it, and nobody seen what happen or when it happen.”

“That's a treacherous stretch,” I said. “I expect the driver just lost control. Probably somebody from out of state who didn't know how steep the grade is.”

“No'm,” James said, shaking his head from side to side. “They got all them 'mergency workers an' rescue people an' sheriff's deputies an' police dogs out there, an' they all lookin' ever'where for a
body.”
James stopped and looked around, again making sure he had our attention. “They sayin' likely it been th'owed out, maybe a long ways away. An' what scare me so bad is them sayin' that mashed up car b'long to Mr. Horace Allen, an' the body he left behind ain't nowhere to be found.”

“Oh, no,” I said, grasping the edge of the table. “That has to be wrong. I spoke to Mildred just yesterday, and she didn't say a word about Horace being missing and nothing about a car wreck. Hazel Marie, we ought to go over there. She may not know a thing about it.”

“Yessum,” James said solemnly, “she do now. Ida Lee, she be in the sto' an' she hear it, too. She take off for home soon as I tell her 'bout poor Mr. Horace. That girl won't have much to do with me, but she purely grateful to me this mornin'.”

“Uh-huh,” Lillian mumbled, as her face twisted with derision.

Hazel Marie picked up my cup and saucer along with her own and took them to the sink. “We better go right on over, Miss Julia. Mildred'll be out of her mind with worry. We should be there when somebody comes to notify her, which they'll do when they're sure it's his car.”

“They sure,” James said, nodding his head up and down. “Least ever'body at the Winn-Dixie say it his.”

Lillian was up and bustling around, turning on the oven to preheat and getting out the mixing bowls. “That po' Miz Allen, she be hurtin' now, but I'm gonna fix her my carrot cake 'cause I know she like it.” She opened the refrigerator door and took out the egg carton. “You can go on home now, James. You already done all the damage you can do, an' I don't have no more time for you.”

Leaving them to it, I followed Hazel Marie out of the kitchen, reminding her to put on a sweater while I hurried to the bedroom for mine. I knew that as soon as the word got out, women all over town would be doing exactly what Lillian was doing—baking, cooking, mixing casseroles and covering one dish after another. That's what we did whenever there was grief in the family of someone we knew. There would be many who didn't know the Allens well, but just a slight acquaintance would send them to the kitchen and then to Mildred's with dish in hand. Every inch of her long dining-room table and kitchen counters would be filled with platters and cake plates and Pyrex bowls full of first one thing and another. Some women I knew had a favorite recipe for condolence calls and kept all the ingredients on hand just for those unexpected moments. Emma Sue Ledbetter, for one, always took the same thing, and I heartily wished she'd come up with a different recipe.

I met Hazel Marie as she came back downstairs and both of us, our faces creased with concern for Mildred—and for Horace, too—hurried out to the car.

“You drive, Hazel Marie,” I said, veering toward her car. “I'm too jittery. I'll tell you, when death comes calling practically next door, it is too close for comfort.”

Hazel Marie turned on the ignition and backed the car down the drive. Then she had to wait for several cars to pass. She glanced at me. “You know, we could've walked. We'd probably be there by now.”

“I didn't even think of it, that's how upset I am. Oh, well, Mildred might need something and it'll be more convenient if we have a car with us.”

The last car went by, and Hazel Marie got us out on the street. Just as Mildred's large, Federal-style house came into view, a sheriff's car pulled out of her driveway, passed us and headed on toward town.

“Why, that looks like Lieutenant Peavey,” I said, craning my neck to look at the patrol car.

“Oh, my,” Hazel Marie said. “I guess that means it's official. Wonder where they found the body.”

“This is just terrible, Hazel Marie. Who would've imagined Horace Allen dead on a mountainside? He was the least likely person I know to be an outdoorsman.”

Hazel Marie shook her head, murmuring, “It all sounds so crazy.” Then she pulled over to the curb hardly half a block from our house. “I'll park here,” she said. “I don't want to get blocked in when everybody else comes calling.”

I nodded, as we continued to sit there in front of Mildred's stately home, neither of us all that eager to go inside. Mildred was a woman of intense feelings, and she was never reluctant to make them known. I felt for her and wanted to be of help, but at the same time I dreaded the lamentations I knew were coming.

“Wonder what he was doing up on that mountain road,” Hazel Marie said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“I wonder, myself. It had to've happened last night or early this morning, don't you think? I mean, if Horace had been gone any length of time, we would've heard about it before now. Mildred wouldn't stand for it, for one thing, and Horace knows to toe the line.
Knew,
I mean he knew to toe the line.”

At the sound of a car turning into the drive behind us, I turned to see who it was. “Oh, my goodness, Hazel Marie, there's LuAnne already and she hasn't had time to cook anything and probably wouldn't feel like it if she did. We better go on in, but listen now, don't say a word about Leonard. Nobody's supposed to know that he's gone, too. Though not in the same way as Horace, as far as I know. But don't even ask her how he is or anything. It'll just set her off, and Mildred doesn't need any more stress. We're going to have our hands full as it is.”

Ida Lee, neat and trim in her black nylon uniform, opened the door as soon as we rang the bell. Her usually serene face was knotted with anxiety, but relief washed over it when she saw us.

“How are you, Ida Lee?” I asked, stepping inside and putting my pocketbook on the demilune table in the foyer. “And how's Mrs. Allen?”

“It's bad around here, Miss Julia,” Ida Lee said in her soft voice. “Miz Allen's up in her room and I can't get her out of bed. She's so upset that she even received the sheriff's deputy in her nightgown. Mrs. Conover's up there with her now.”

“And Tonya, too?”

“No'm, Miss Tony, he…” Ida Lee's face crumpled as she realized how badly she'd misspoken. Tonya Allen had been born Anthony, or Tony, Allen, but years of working up north had made a monumental impression on him and he'd come home as Tonya, complete with bosoms. Or, as Mildred called them, ta-tas. Mildred was barely over the shock of losing her boy to 36-D cups, and here she was suffering another loss.

“It's all right, Ida Lee,” I said. “I still get mixed up, too, even though I admire Tonya much more than I ever admired Tony. Anyway,” I went on, trying to put things back on course, “where is he? I mean,
she.”

“She gone to New York to visit old friends.”

“She needs to be here for her mother. Do you have a phone number?”

“Miz Allen tell me to call already, an' Miss Tonya on her way,” she said, her small body trembling. “Miss Tonya the only one can do anything with her mama.”

Hazel Marie put her arm around Ida Lee and said, “Well, we're here to help you.” And Hazel Marie went right to work organizing things. She was awfully good in times like these.

“I'll answer the door for you,” Hazel Marie said, leading Ida Lee toward the kitchen. “And we'll put a pad by the phone to take down any messages. And we need to keep a list of who all brings food or sends flowers. Mildred will need that. Miss Julia, you go on up and see her. I'll stay down here and help Ida Lee.”

I stood in the foyer, looking up at the graceful stairs and dreading going up them. Glancing toward the living room on one side and into the dining room on the other, I was reassured by their impeccable condition. Mildred might have stayed in bed all day, but Ida Lee was still on the job, running the house like a general. Ida Lee was one of the most refined and capable people I knew, and I had often wondered why she wasn't heading up a business somewhere. Of course, Mildred knew a good thing when she saw it and was more than generous with salary and benefits. On top of that, she gave Ida Lee complete oversight of the house, hiring day workers for the laundry, the yard and the heavy cleaning, with Ida Lee supervising all of it. So I guess she was already running a business right here.

I sighed then and commenced the climb toward Mildred's bedroom, dreading the dramatic scenes to come. Mildred was an emotional woman who loved drama in her life, but she was ill prepared to handle a situation like this. Recalling my own bereavement after Wesley Lloyd Springer keeled over in his car and before I'd known what he'd been up to, I felt a surge of sympathy for her and resolved to comfort her in any way I could.

Instead of the expected hysterics, though, I found Mildred languishing on several pillows in her bed, the Porthault linens overflowing with lace. Mildred's arms were flung out to the side, while LuAnne leaned over her, bathing her ashen face with a cloth.

I tiptoed over to the canopied bed, marveling at the quiet grief that she was suffering. The room was dim with the curtains still drawn and only one lamp burning, and it took a minute for my eyes to adjust. Mildred had the bed covers pushed down to her waist, with her arms and legs spraddled out across the bed. She wore a celadon satin bedjacket over a matching gown, and I was relieved that she'd apparently covered herself to some extent when she received Lieutenant Peavey. Mildred was a full-bodied woman who could've shocked the lieutenant beyond recovery if she'd not made some effort to cover herself. But then, Ida Lee had probably seen to it.

I put my hand on LuAnne's back and leaned over the bed. “Mildred, Hazel Marie and I have come to help. What can we do? Is there any word on Horace?”

“Oh, Julia,” Mildred said with a monumental sigh. Without opening her eyes, she waved her hand around and finally seized mine. “My heart is broken. My dear, sweet Horace could be out there suffering somewhere and nobody knows where.”

I looked with surprise at LuAnne. “They haven't found him? We saw Lieutenant Peavey leaving, and I thought there'd been some word.”

LuAnne shook her head. “He just came to tell her about the car and the accident. And to ask where Horace might be.”

“Oh,” I said, “then I guess that's good news. At least, it could be. Maybe Horace will come walking in any minute.”

Mildred suddenly came to life, her eyes popping open as she shoved herself upright in the bed. “He better not come walking in after putting me through all this. LuAnne, quit wiping my face. Sit down, both of you, I'm tired of being treated like an invalid.”

“Well quit acting like one,” LuAnne snapped, backing away from the bed. I frowned at her and shook my head, cautioning her to overlook Mildred's outburst. Grieving people are allowed to be short and discourteous within reason, but LuAnne's feelings were close to the surface because of her own situation. She was in no mood to be tolerant of anybody.

But we both pulled chairs up close to the bed and sat down, waiting for Mildred like a queen's attendants. Mildred plumped the pillows behind her back and scooted farther up in the bed. She seemed to be her old self, except for her hair which was mashed down in the back and standing out from the sides. But her face now had some color in it, and her eyes had gained some sparkle.

“I want to know where he is,” she said. “Believe me, the longer he's gone, the worse trouble he's going to be in.”

“Now, Mildred,” I said, concerned at her sudden mood swing, “you have to keep your spirits up until you hear something definite. He could still be wandering around up in the mountains, hurt or maimed, maybe with amnesia or something. People get lost up there all the time, even without a car accident.”

“I know that, Julia,” she said, flapping her hand. “But that doesn't answer the question of what he was doing up there in the first place.”

LuAnne leaned forward. “How long has he been gone?”

“I don't know!” And Mildred slung her head back and wailed. Exactly the way I'd been expecting. But then, she seemed to gather herself, took a deep breath and continued in a normal voice. “We have separate bedrooms,” she said, cutting her eyes at LuAnne, then at me. “I don't expect either of you to understand, knowing how your marriages are.” I heard LuAnne make a mewing noise at the reference to her marriage.

Mildred didn't notice, just went right on. “A lot of people have separate bedrooms, you know. They just don't advertise the fact. So,” she said, reaching for a Kleenex, “I assumed he went to bed last night same as always, but apparently he didn't.” Tears flowed down her face. “So I don't know how long he's been gone, and that stern-faced lieutenant acted like he didn't believe me.”

“Oh, I'm sure he did, Mildred,” I said, reaching over and patting her hand. “He can't believe you had anything to do with it. I wouldn't worry about that at all.”

LuAnne sat beside me, her mouth twisting to one side and her eyes narrowing. “You don't sleep together? How do you keep your marriage going?”

“My marriage is just fine,” Mildred said, pursing her mouth at her. “And just because we don't find it necessary to be up against each other all the time doesn't mean we don't on occasion.” Mildred threw up her hands. “Our sleeping arrangements are beside the point and nobody's business. Besides, Horace snores.”

“I think we should try to figure out what has happened,” I said, wanting to turn the conversation away from the tender subject of marriage. “When was the last time you saw him, Mildred?”

“That's what the lieutenant asked, and it was yesterday at lunch. Horace wanted an advance on his allowance, and I gave it to him, although not as much as he wanted. All right, don't look at me like that.” Mildred glared at us. “You both know that Horace has never made a nickel in his life, but he hasn't needed to. We have our own arrangements which have worked for us all our married life, and if it's not what most people are accustomed to, it doesn't matter. I married Horace because he was such a gentleman, cosmopolitan and, well, worldly. He has always been available to me and devoted to me. That's what I wanted and I was willing to support him to get it. So if that doesn't meet your middle-class ideas, then I'm sorry.”

Mildred tightened her mouth and stared us down. Of course, I'd known pretty much all of what she'd just told us, simply from observing the two of them over the years. Mildred had been raised with unlimited wealth, and it's a settled fact that people like that are different from you and me, whether in their money management or their sleeping arrangements. None of it mattered to me, but I knew Hazel Marie would be fascinated and I couldn't wait to tell her.

“Well, I just think it's strange,” LuAnne said. LuAnne only liked it when people did exactly what they were supposed to do with no variation from what she considered normal.

“LuAnne,” I said, in an attempt to get us back on track, “none of that has anything to do with the current problem, which is where Horace is now. Mildred,” I went on, turning to her, “didn't Horace have a cell phone with him? Looks to me like he'd call somebody if he was lost.”

“Well, I know he would've,” Mildred said, “if he'd been able to or if it survived the wreck. It just goes to show that something's not right with any of this.” She suddenly rose from the bed, flinging back the covers to reveal more than I wanted to see. “I'm getting up from here and getting dressed. Julia, you and LuAnne go on downstairs and ask Ida Lee to come help me. That doorbell has about rung off the hook, and I need to be down there.”

“Good,” I said, glad to see Mildred stirring herself. “Come on, LuAnne, let's go see if the coffee's made.”

She and I closed the door behind us as Mildred lumbered toward the bathroom. We lingered a minute in the upstairs hall, still slightly in shock at all that had happened that morning.

“Julia,” LuAnne said, so quietly I could barely hear her. “If things were fair, that should've been me.”

I stared at her. “You mean, married to Horace?”

“No! I mean, it should've been me grieving for Leonard after he'd been thrown out of a car wreck with his body nowhere to be found.”

“Now, LuAnne, you don't mean that.”

“I certainly do. Everybody will sympathize with Mildred, but they'll all laugh at me. It would be so much easier if Leonard had died instead of leaving me.”

Having no adequate response to that, I just rolled my eyes and took her arm as we proceeded down the stairs. “I think you're jumping the gun, LuAnne. We have to remember to keep reminding Mildred that Horace is not dead until his body is found. There's no need to envy her, LuAnne, because you're both in the same situation. Both of your husbands are gone, and nobody knows where they are.”