Tea Cups & Tiger Claws (37 page)

Dorthea calmly looked up to the mezzanine and motioned with her hand
. Then she turned back to Veronica and said, “Are you out of medicine, my dear? I can get you some more right now.”

“I don’t need your medicine. I stopped taking it. I’m not taking it anymore.”

Two servants ran down the stairs. Their fake pony tails bounced up and down. They pushed into the crowd and headed toward Veronica. When they got close, they raised their hands and approached slowly, as if trying to catch a dog—or a mental patient.

“Get away from me Perkins! What are you doing?”

One of them grabbed her arm, but she squirmed away. The other lunged, but she knocked his arm to the side. “Stop that!” she said, as she backed away, but then she reached the wall and ran out of room. The servants then latched onto her arms and dragged her through the crowd, toward the stairway.

“I must apologize dear friends,” said Dorthea
, as she tried to reclaim the peoples’ attention, most of whom still had their eyes locked onto Veronica Newfield. “As you can see, my daughter-in-law is not really on her honeymoon—”

“
And I never will be, Dorthea!” yelled Veronica from the base of the stairs. “I know all about annulments, Dorthea…and I’m getting one of them tomorrow. Did you hear that, Dorthea? You’re not going to be the big queen after all.” The servants hustled her up the stairs, her feet barely touching the steps, and out of the ballroom.

Then everyone faced Dorthea. Her soft, other-worldly complexion had turned hard and shiny. Her commanding eyes now weaved an unsteady glare as they shifted from side to side. Her dignified mouth now started and stopped like a bad student giving a book report.

“My daughter-in-law is not well…mentally, as you can see,” she finally said. “When she don’t…doesn’t take her medication it gets worse…but it’s not because of the marriage…it’s because her mother died…that’s what the doctor said….” She started walking. The crowd parted for her. “Please excuse me as I see to her needs.” And she left the ballroom, not by the grand stairway she had so magnificently descended, but by the ground floor servants’ exit.

~~~

Perkins needed to act. He’d been called to act, by Nanny, who now followed him everywhere and continually barked into any ear that swung her way; by the plight of Miss Veronica, who’d embarked on her own death vigil, precipitated, it seemed, by nothing more than teenage unhappiness; and mostly by Dorthea Railer and her confusing assault upon the family and home he’d so faithfully served, against his family, his home.

At first, on the day Dorthea took over, he could
’ve put Miss Veronica into his car and coasted out the gate as easy as a Sunday drive—if he’d known that’s what needed to be done. Even when Dorthea brought in the armed guards, and when he learned of Miss Veronica’s poor health, he still could’ve done something. Now he had surveillance cameras, monitored phone calls, and searches at the gate. He couldn’t help feeling like the frog that had stayed too long in the pot of boiling water.

Thankfully
Sarah’s phone call had gotten through and had revived him. Maybe he’d waited too long, but he still had to try.

Dorthea’s grand entrance, which he’d witnessed from the mezzanine, went down like rotten milk and wormy bread. Without so much as a word, she
’d silenced the room, divided the sea of people, and lapped up their adoration. Perkins watched in disgust, until Veronica, sickly Veronica, got it into her head to bust in on the party and tweak Dorthea in the nose. That’s when Dorthea motioned up to the mezzanine. Perkins didn’t know who she motioned to. Maybe to him. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. He had his opening.

He grabbed
one of his temporary servers and they ran down stairs to get Veronica. After some small effort, they hoisted her by the elbows, ran her up the stairs and out of the room, where Nanny fell on her shoulder with kisses and hugs. Perkins waited nervously for this outburst to run its course before he nudged Veronica toward the stairway that led down to the first floor hallway.

“That wasn’t very smart
, Miss Veronica,” he said, “if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“You leave my girl alone
, Perkins,” said Nanny.

“I don’t mind
, Nanny,” said Veronica with an easy smile, as if the blowup with Dorthea had been nothing but a trifle. “Everyone knows I love to make a scene. How could I resist?”

This surprised Perkins because it made sense. Veronica had said something that made sense…but that still didn’t make it smart; Dorthea would be coming to get her, probably very
quickly.

They made it
to the bottom of the stairs and continued on to Parlor number two, where they stopped.

“Miss Veronica….”

“Yes, Perkins.”

With one eye on the stairway and one on Veronica, he proceeded, “You need to leave Sunny Slope Manor until we get rid of Dorthea.”

“Ok.”

Ok?
He hadn’t expected that. Where was the argument?

“Perkins!” hissed Nanny. “We don’t have all day!”

“Yes, yes. Nanny, you bring my car around.” She grabbed the keys from him and scurried away. He leaned into the parlor, over a writing desk that had been moved into the doorway, and pulled out a red servant’s coat and a servant’s white wig, which he handed to Veronica. “Please put these on…just until we get you out of here.” She eyed the wig with a smile and put it on, followed by the red coat. “Now step through here.” He pulled the writing desk away from the doorway, scooted her into the parlor, and then pushed it back into place. “Pull up that chair and sit at this desk. You’re our new coat checker.” She followed his instructions. Perkins looked her over and didn’t like what he saw. She still looked like Veronica. “Put your head down like you’re sleeping. That’s better.”

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw the human form he’d been expecting but not from where he’d expected it.
Dorthea had just emerged from the side hallway, not more than ten steps away. And she had a gun. But how did she get there? She hadn’t come down the main stairway…which meant that she’d exited the ballroom through the first floor servants’ exit…which meant that she’d been down here the entire time and may have heard everything he’d said.

She walked toward him
and made no attempt to hide the gun.

“Perkins,”
said Dorthea.

“Yes
, ma’am.”

“Perkins,” she said again, standing directly before him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is Veronica in her room?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes, the color of ice cubes, lingered on him
for a moment before she turned. Then she stopped and looked at Veronica. “Wake up you idiot!” she snapped.

“I’m sorry
, ma’am,” said Perkins. “Some of the temporary help are not up to standard.”

“Standard? There is no standard for this
, Perkins! Take care of it!”

“Yes
, ma’am.”

She turned and left,
and eventually disappeared into the small corridor beside the main stairway. After a few seconds the elevator came to life, indicating that she’d taken it up to Veronica’s room on the third floor, where she’d discover that Perkins had lied to her. He had only minutes, minutes for Nanny to bring the car, to whisk Veronica out of this armed fortress, to hide her in the back of his Pinto, and to figure out how to fool the nosy guard at the gate.

Veronica looked up, winked at him, and put her head back down. Oh,
to have such youthful nerve; it inspired confidence and vitality—if it didn’t get one killed.

He watched the front door and listened for the elevator. He tried not to think about Nanny’s exasperating habit of doing the exact opposite of what she’s told. Suddenly she burst through the door.
Quick work, thought Perkins, as a bit of hope trickled into his beleaguered mind. He looked at her expectantly.

S
he kneaded her hands into a ball. “The boys are trying to get your car. It might take a few minutes.”

“A few minutes? We don’t have a few minutes!
” he said. “I told
you
to get the car, not a…a…valet!”

“It’s blocked in by all the other cars! If
you
had made a plan instead—”

“Quiet!” said Perkins
. He raised his hand to punctuate the command. The elevator had come back to life. “We’re out of time, Nanny. You need to listen to me. You and Veronica make a run for it.” He slid the table over to clear the way for Veronica, and then continued, “I’ll take the gun and hold her off until you get out the gate. Take any car you can find, and tell the gate guard we’re out of…champagne. If that doesn’t work, you have to crash through the gate. Do you understand?”

“She has a gun?” asked Nanny.

Just then a body emerged from the corridor—in a hurry. He took that as a bad sign…until his eyes focused and he recognized Sarah, and Mack, who pulled up right behind. It hadn’t been Dorthea at all! They still had time. Sarah and Mack dashed down the hallway to greet them. Of course Nanny came unglued and almost knocked the poor girl over. But even Perkins broke decorum and gave Sarah a hug—while he kept an eye out for Dorthea.

“Where’s Veronica?” asked
Sarah

“Allo cuzzin! Oim the new coat checker for me Lord!” said Veronica
, in her best cockney accent.

“Veronica?” said
Sarah.

She stood up, took off the wig with some fanfare, and came around the table to embrace her cousin. Perkins watched nervously.

“You look good, Veronica. Are you feeling better?” asked Sarah, when the two broke their hug.

“Yes, yes,” said Perkins, “she’s much better…I believe…much better. Do you have a car
, Mack?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Good. You have to take Veronica and get out of here. Dorthea has a gun. You have to get out of here.” He spread his arms and shepherded everyone toward the front entrance like a determined goose.

“What about the guard at the gate?” asked
Mack.

“Do whatever it takes. He probably won’t open the gate for you. Now go. Please go.”

They filed out the door. Sarah, the last one out, looked back and smiled. But then the smile abruptly fell from her face, and she disappeared out the door.

Perkins turned and saw Dorthea staring down at them from the second floor landing. Without a word she walked down the stairs. She’d seen
Sarah, that much he knew, and maybe Veronica too. And he’d lied to her. And she still had the gun.

“You need to get out of here
, Nanny,” he said.

Nanny stepped
toward the front door. Dorthea immediately raised the gun and said, “Stay where you are.” Nanny froze.

“Go. She can’t hit you from there,” whispered Perkins
, who’d resolved to disarm Dorthea, come what may.

Nanny didn’t move.

At the bottom of the stairs, gun still pointed at them, Dorthea lifted the telephone handset from the table next to the stairway. “Lock the gate,” she said into the phone. “Don’t let anybody out.” She put down the phone and walked toward them.

“If a person can be judged by the quality of their enemies,” she said, “then I must protest. Two servile blobs conspiring behind my back just won’t do.”

She stopped a few feet away and pointed the gun, not at Perkins, as he’d expected, but straight into Nanny’s face, which caused him to lose his nerve.

“Don’t get me wrong,” continued Dorthea. “I have tremendous appreciation for irrelevant people. Like rusted bridges
that lead nowhere, you live worthless lives and accomplish nothing. That takes some doing, but it doesn’t qualify you to ever be regarded as enemies of mine. Now put your keys on the table, both of you.”

She pulled back the hammer and moved the gun to within inches of Nanny’s face. Nanny whimpered, pulled the keys from her apron pocket, and threw them onto the table. Perkins did the same.

“Now get into the parlor,” she said.

They slipped past the table and through the doorway. Perkins watched
as Dorthea closed and locked the sliding doors.

~~~

Dorthea walked briskly down the side hallway toward the newly built security office. She exhorted herself to stay focused. Like a dog that’s been lured into the brush by a coyote, Sarah Evans had lured Dorthea’s mind from its desired course. Sarah had been locked in the dungeon, as good as dead. Horrick had chained her to the wall. He’d given Dorthea all the details, about Sarah and the cowboy, and Horrick didn’t have the brains to make up details like that. Something had gone wrong. None of that mattered now, though. She needed to find Veronica. That’s what mattered. Like glue, Veronica’s body, dead or alive, held everything together. At the security office Dorthea punched the code into the electronic lock, pushed open the door, and told herself to stay focused.

The surprised guard started to stand.

“Sit down and watch the monitors. I’m looking for two young ladies who just left the house.” He sat down.