The Angel and the Jabberwocky Murders (13 page)

“I think I just lost a year of my life,” Ellis said. “We're getting too old for this, Lucy Nan. I don't know why I let you drag me into these things.

“Do you think the Hornsbys are still living together?” she asked before I could protest. “I can't believe she'd take him back.”

“Maybe she's used to him,” I said. “Or maybe she just doesn't care. Who knows? Could be she's out for revenge.”

“And could be she's already had it,” Ellis said.

We found Nettie having tea in Blythe Cornelius's snug living room while her niece hung around in the doorway looking like she'd rather be someplace else. Leslie scooped up Blythe's big orange tabby and stroked it until it squirmed free. Some of the tension was gone from my neighbor's face, so I guessed her visit with Leslie had gone better than she expected.

Nettie stood when she saw us. “Do-law, has it been an hour already?”

“Time flies when you're having fun,” I said with an insinuating glance at Ellis. “I hate to drag you away from good company, but Ellis here has a hot date tonight.”

“Then I'd better get a move on,” Nettie said, setting aside her cup, “but I'm glad Blythe and I had a chance to visit. It's a comfort to see some things don't change. My niece—Leslie's mother,” she explained to Blythe, “lived right here in Emma Harris back when she was in school, only her room was in the other wing. Many's the time I've gone up and down those stairs helping to move her in or out.” Nettie smiled at her grand niece. “The old place looks pretty much the same.”

“There are several old yearbooks in that bookcase in the lounge,” Blythe said. “Maybe your mother's in one of them, Leslie. Do you remember when she was here?”

“Why, it's been at least thirty years.” Nettie seemed surprised at her own words. “Margaret started at Sarah Bedford the year they built the new gymnasium, and that part of the campus stayed in a mess. Naturally, the girls tracked in a lot of mud and the housemother was a regular old dragon about it! I believe she lived in this very apartment, Blythe. The girls were terrified of her.”

“Wouldn't it be fun if we could find your mother's picture, Leslie?” Blythe said, gathering up the empty cups. “What was her maiden name, sugar?”

“Oh, we have one of her annuals around somewhere—from her freshman year, I think.” Leslie stooped to pet the gray cat. “She never did graduate, though. Mom married right after her sophomore year.”

“Married Doug Dixon when she was barely twenty,” Nettie explained. “Lost one baby before it came to term, and another was stillborn. Then Doug was killed in an automobile accident right soon after that.”

“Oh dear!” Blythe shook her head.

“Margaret was in her early thirties when she married George Monroe and had Leslie,” Nettie said.

Leslie shrugged. “That must've been a surprise.”

“But a nice one.” Nettie put an arm around the girl's shoulders. “My niece died when Leslie was only six,” she explained to Blythe. “And her father's always expected her to be a straight-A student and act like a grown woman.”

I saw the look that passed between Nettie and Blythe Cornelius.
No wonder this child has an eating disorder
.

Leslie walked with us to the car, where her great aunt gave her a cushiony hug. “It's all right to relax and have fun, you know. You don't have to be perfect, honey,” Nettie told her. She held Leslie by the shoulders and looked into her face. “Now I want you to promise you'll follow through. Remember what we talked about? Don't put it off.”

The girl nodded and watched as her aunt climbed into the car. “Aunt Nettie…”

“What, honey?”

Leslie shook her head and shrugged. “Nothing.” Shoulders sagging, she turned and walked back toward the dormitory.

Nettie frowned. “Now what was that all about, I wonder.”

“Did you talk with her about not eating?” I asked.

Nettie buckled her seat belt and took a deep breath. “Yes, and she denied it at first. I finally got her to agree to see somebody about it, and she promised to call home tonight to see if they can make an appointment with their family doctor. I guess he'll know where to go from there. Bless her heart, she's always tried so hard to please her daddy, and now she thinks she has to compete with his wife!”

“I don't blame you for worrying,” Ellis said. “She's awfully thin.”

“And white as Sunday slippers,” Nettie said. “Acts like she's afraid of something to me. Can't say I blame her, with young girls being murdered left and right.”

“Have you heard any more about those Jabberwocky notes?” Ellis asked me as we started home.

“Not much,” I said. “Joy Ellen Harper says they only have two: D.C.'s and the one sent to the girl who drowned. Of course D.C. never opened hers because she rarely checked her mail. Her roommate said it had been sitting on her desk for a couple of days. Weigelia told me her cousin Kemper said the police think the two were killed by the same person, and D.C.'s must have been hand-delivered because there was no name on the envelope.”

“So it didn't go through the regular mail.” Nettie frowned. “Then somebody must have slipped it into her box. This is getting too close to home.”

“I don't suppose they ever found one to the girl who fell from the Tree House.” Ellis's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror.

“But that doesn't mean she didn't get one,” I said.

Nettie clicked her upper plate. “I wish Leslie would go somewhere else for a while. She doesn't need all this worry on top of everything else.”

“Fall Fest is coming up this weekend,” I reminded her. “Maybe that'll help take her mind off it.”

“I'd almost forgotten about that,” Ellis said. “I think they've been having Fall Fest at Sarah Bedford forever. Susan always loved to go when she was a child.”

“I'd like to take Teddy, but I have to oversee our class project,” I said. “The girls are making hand-pulled taffy and popcorn balls to sell, and there'll be a cake walk and fortune-telling—even a haunted garden. It gives the campus organizations a chance to earn money.”

“Sounds like you're going to be busy,” Nettie predicted.

“Not really. I just plan to enjoy it. Jo Nell and Idonia always come—haven't missed one in years—so it should be fun, and the girls in my class are taking turns with the booth,” I said. “I shouldn't have to do a thing.”

“That'll be fifty cents for the popcorn ball and a quarter for the taffy.” I took a mangled dollar bill from a small boy in a pirate outfit and gave him back a sticky quarter. Where
was
that girl? Troll had asked me to relieve her for ten minutes so she could go to the bathroom, only it seemed she'd been gone an hour.

Across the lawn I saw my cousin Jo Nell having her palm read by a student wearing a red turban and about fifty pounds of jewelry. On closer scrutiny the gypsy looked slightly familiar under all that makeup. Sally Wooten, D. C. Hunter's roommate. It was good to see her loosen up after all that had happened lately.

Idonia had bypassed our booth for candied apples, then wandered off to watch the jugglers. On my right the college tennis team sold funnel cakes, while the Science Club grilled hot dogs and onions in the booth to my left. I felt like the inside of a junk food sandwich, but this wasn't going to be a calorie-counting night. I took one long happy sniff and told my skinny little conscience to go to hell.

Someone waved to me from across the quad and I wasn't surprised to see Augusta strolling happily among the food booths. “Isn't the sense of smell a wonderful thing?” she said as she approached—then winked. “Of course the sense of taste is even better.”

Taking the hint, when my replacement finally returned I bought the two of us hot dogs with everything on them which we ate on the steps of the science building while watching a puppet show. The night smelled like hot grease and dry leaves, and children called to one another, racing in and out among the booths. I had just finished my supper and was trying to decide between a funnel cake or ice cream for dessert when a blue-faced dwarf barreled into me, almost bringing me to my knees.

“Teddy!” I stooped to hug my grandson, who gave me a sticky kiss while happily devouring the last of his indigo-tinged cotton candy.

“Don't tell Jessica!” my son Roger whispered as Teddy dragged him off to discover other forbidden delights. I hoped he would remember to scrub his son's face before returning home.

The evening had turned crisp and cool as darkness settled in, and I was glad of my comfortable jeans and the baggy sweatshirt that said, “This is my Halloween costume!”

The usually sedate little college looked almost gaudy in its effort to forget, if only for a while, the gruesome thing that had happened there. Earlier I had seen Ed Tillman and his partner, Sheila Eastwood, from the local police attempting to blend in with the crowd, while Weigelia's cousin Kemper strolled about the fringes, observing the activities from a distance. I was glad to know they weren't far away. It was difficult not to watch the faces of the Sarah Bedford students as they went about the business of playing, and of trying not to be afraid. Some succeeded, I think, but I wasn't sure about the others. I wasn't sure about me, and I certainly wasn't looking forward to staying on campus overnight.

Nettie had phoned earlier that evening with a peculiar request. “I know you're going to think I'm neurotic, Lucy Nan, but I'm really concerned about Leslie. They've made an appointment for her with their family doctor early next week, but her dad's not able to come for her until Sunday. Frankly, I don't think the child's sleeping any better than she's eating.” She paused. “Is there any way you could make some excuse to stay with her Saturday night, since you'll be there for the festival anyway? I'd do it myself, but it would be too obvious. There's an extra bed in her room, you know. The girl who was to room with her got homesick and went home after a couple of weeks.”

“I guess I could tell her I'll be working late after the festival and need a place to crash, but do you really think she would want me?”

“I think she'll jump at the chance to have someone in the room with her,” Nettie said. “I honestly believe part of Leslie's problem is being in that room alone—especially after what happened to that other girl.”

“Okay, I'll see how she reacts when I mention it,” I told her, “but I'll bet she'll come up with a string of excuses why I shouldn't stay.”

“Oh, that would be great!” Leslie said when I asked her. “I'll make up the other bed with my extra set of sheets.” And she showed such animation I felt ashamed for not wanting to stay. Now and again during the festivities I caught sight of her with some of the other girls, and each time she smiled and waved. Tonight she didn't have to dread being alone.

With Jo Nell and Idonia, I bought a chance at the cake walk and came away empty-handed, but Jo Nell won a sour-cream pound cake with cream-cheese icing.

“I can't walk around with a pound cake all night,” she said. “Will you go with me to put it in my car, Lucy Nan?”

“There's no use in both of us going,” I said, reaching for the cake. “Here, I'll take it.”

“And trust you alone with a sour-cream pound cake? Not in this lifetime!” my cousin said. “Besides, you're not walking across this campus by yourself with a murderer lurking about, and that parking lot's dark as a bat cave. We'll both go.” Jo Nell marched resolutely ahead, holding her cake like a trophy, and I trailed obligingly along behind. Idonia, I noticed, had been waylaid to decorate a pumpkin. She never can resist a chance to smear paint on something—usually it's an unspoiled and unsuspecting canvas.