The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (22 page)

“Oh no, Paz, your and my mother are going to get along all
too well,” Noelle warned.  “Sorry to change the subject, but how did things
go?”

“Not as we supposed, better maybe.  It seems there is a
stronger candidate in the running.”  I didn’t want to elaborate so I changed
the subject, hoping Noelle would get the hint.  “I stopped by the hospital and
they took the oxygen off Father Michael.  He was sleeping comfortably when I
left.”

“Mom, Aunt Liz, you have to see this priest.  He’s the most
handsome man I have ever seen.  He’s tall, dark, and has the most beautiful
eyes, dark thick hair that gives you impure thoughts.  I imagine the Catholic
women he comes in contact with have to go to confession quite frequently.”

“Deep southern accent, and he’s a Jesuit, the guys that wear
those black dresses.  I nearly fell off the cliff we were climbing when he
turned and looked back at me and smiled.”  Noelle fell back into the couch in a
phony swoon.

We all laughed and made very bad comments.  Yes, if I was
going to hell I would have good company.

~

Noelle showed me to my room so I could clean up before
dinner.  She promised she would come back later, and we would try to navigate
our way to the living room for drinks before dinner.  Caroline assured me they
wouldn’t be dressing for this meal.  Pants were fine.  I suspected my hostess
made this concession due to our limited traveling wardrobe.

I found my clothes had been unpacked, and some genie ironed
my black slacks and laid out my green V-necked sweater.  I had to remind myself
I wasn’t a governess in a gothic novel.  I was the guest, the one who would
have to be witty at cocktails and amusing during dinner, instead of sitting
demurely in the corner.  I had never thought that I would be playing this
role.  Before I could build up a good panic Noelle and Paz showed up at my
door.  They invaded my room wanting to know what really happened over at
Maurice Sherborn's office.  I quickly told them, and they sat there
thoughtfully.

“What happens next?” Noelle asked.

“I don’t know.  Browning will be there to interview Maurice
in the morning.  Because of us I’m sure he will have a lawyer with him.”

Noelle looked me over.  "Mom, you’re wearing one navy
and one black sock."

"Am I?"  I looked down and sure enough I was.  I
must have packed them that way.  I rummaged around fruitlessly and solved the
problem by taking off both socks.

"Do you think you’ll get in trouble for talking to
Maurice before the police?  The Cornwall guy seems alright, but I don't think
the Met guys are too comfortable with your American ways, Cin."

"I don't think so either, but I think they will handle
things from now on.  Maybe they’ll let us know or we’ll just read it in the
papers like everybody else.  Anyway, let's leave it till the morning.  Tonight,
I am going to my first dinner with the swells."

“Well then, let’s eat, drink and be merry,” Paz said. 
"But first, I want to prepare you for the farce downstairs.  My mother has
invited my Aunt Liz, whom you’ve met, and Uncle David.  Peter will be there and
Billy – she’s been calling him William all day.  I have to warn you about my
father.  In conversation he’s an experience that is similar to a carnival
ride.  He starts off slow and quiet and when you are comfortable and feeling
mellow, he flies around, talks a mile a minute, changes the subject and forgets
what he was talking about minutes before.”  Paz paused for effect.  In her best
munchkin voice she said, “Hold on to yourselves, in your honor, the matriarch of
the family, my grandmother Lady Mary Price is joining us.”  Returning to her
own voice she continued, “Rounding out the table is Doctor Bertram Marcum,
Professor of Music and his protégé, Stephen Douglas.  I am sure we’ll have to
sit through a small recital afterwards.  Steven’s a master of the violin.  No
doubt, poor Peter, will be accompanying him on the cello.”

“All this for us?”

“Yes, because you are the famous manuscript detective from
the United States.  And here we have Noelle who captured an international
criminal.  My mother will be much envied at her club.”

“Yikes!  I’m going to make an ass out of myself aren’t I?”

“No, Mom, we will leave that to Paisley.”

“Got your back, Cin.”  Paz raised her imaginary gun and
posed in true Charlie Angels form.

We followed Paz downstairs and to the other side of the
house from the music room.  The large ornate room we entered had several
groupings of furniture that were set up in conversation pits.  I could just
make out a fire burning at the end of the room.  I should have worn my driving
glasses.  Peter walked forward and greeted us before stealing Noelle away for a
whispering session.  Billy was sitting, looking very ill at ease and holding a
drink that he passed from one hand to another.  He looked up and was overjoyed
to see Paz.

“I think that Billy needs a rescue.  What’s he wearing?”

“I don’t know, wait, my father must have given him a shirt
and trousers to wear.  Not too bad, but not Billy.”

“I agree.  Billy needs denim.”

Paz left.  I stood for a while building up my courage.

“Are you going to venture in or be a spectator?” a gruff
female voice said behind me.

“I always like to see what kind of game is being played
before breaking the rules of it,” I said without turning around.

“It does give one an advantage.”

I turned around and smiled.  “You and I should play on the
same team.  I’m Cin Fin-Lathen.”

The tall regal woman behind me bowed her head.  “Very nice
to meet you.  I am the foundation, the wind and the water.”

“That would make you wise, egotistical and humorous.  It’s a
pleasure to meet you, Lady Mary Price.”

“I sense a little pierced rat has clued you in on me.  Let’s
go in and grab something high in alcohol.  Then you can explain your answer.” 
Lady Mary moved her ample frame with the grace of a ballet dancer.  She chose a
wing chair in the far corner.  The moment she sat down a young man in a uniform
asked her for her drink order.  “What’s strong where you come from, Lathen?”

“I drink Manhattans.”

“What’s in it?”

“Double scotch, vermouth, dash bitters and a cherry.  And
it’s Fin-Lathen or Cin.”

“How awful, simply deplorable.  Son, we will have two.  That
is, two for each of us.”

“I’m surprised you ordered a Manhattan if they’re awful and
deplorable.”

“Oh no no.  You misunderstood me.  I was referring to your
name.  Lathen is a good name, good stock comes from that name.  What in
heaven’s name does Fin come from?  I suspect the Irish.  And sin?  Must we
advertise?”

“C I N,” I spelt out, “preferable to Cynthia.”

“Fine.  Cin, how has your trip to England treated you so
far?”

Our drinks arrived.  I waited until the young man left
before replying, “Aside from being dumped in a bog, shot at, and ruining four
pairs of shoes, the trip has been a lot of fun.”  I drank deeply.  It was very
good.  I caught the eye of the young bartender and mimed my approval.

“Don’t waste your time on him.  Too young, no stamina.”

I almost choked.  “Oh no, I was complimenting him on the
drink.”

“Fine, save face,” she said dryly.

“I like you, Lady Mary.”

“I will reserve my judgment on you till after you explain
your earlier comment.”

I thought a moment before answering, “You are wise because
you are the foundation of this family.  Your granddaughter Paisley has your
remarkable intelligence, and to keep a family together in these times takes a
wise woman, hence the good foundation.”

“Egotistical?”

“The wind is egotistical.  It goes where it wants, never
thinks that it isn’t wanted and it is impressed with itself.  The water is
humorous because have you ever listen to it gossip with the rocks in a stream. 
It will torture your senses as it continues through the night, dripping from a
faucet.  And for kicks, it throws itself off of cliffs.  Very funny water is.”

“I like you too, Cin.  Why hyphenate the name?  Don’t love
the hubby?”

“I do, did, love my ex-husband.  But I thought that when you
meet someone for the first time you should give them the whole picture.  Cin –
I am too impatient to wait for someone to say Cynthia.  Fin – my parents’
name.  They’re responsible for my red hair and quick wit.  Lathen – he’s the
father of my children.”

“Nicely done, just think it up?”

“Yes.”  I started laughing.

Lady Mary and I got along well.  I couldn’t have asked for a
better verbal match.  She was insightful and very aware of everything that went
on in her world.

Peter brought Noelle over and introduced her to his
grandmother. 

“Ah, Noelle, my grandson Peter called me from a payphone to
gush about you just minutes after you met.”

“Grandmother...” a very embarrassed Peter tried to cut her
off.

“Hush up."  She held up her hand.  Peter closed his
mouth. Lady Mary continued, “He fell head-over-heels in love with you.  Chills,
stomach felt funny, and he heard bells ringing.  How do you explain that?” 
Lady Mary opened her eyes wide.

“The flu.  Evidently, he wasn’t vaccinated.”

Lady Mary burst out laughing.  “Noelle, better run fast,
Peter has long legs.”

“Good advice.”  She smiled at Peter and he lit up.

They left us to our girl talk.  Funny thing, girl talk, it’s
the same all over the world.  Different subjects maybe, but we do tend to
frighten men away when we get started.

“Not the trusting sort.  She has a wait-and-see attitude.”

“Hope he hangs in there, Lady Mary.  I like him.”

“Never seen him like that before.  Good boy, my daughter Liz
and her husband are good parents.”  She drained the first drink and moved on to
the second one.  “Caroline is excellent at entertaining, except occasionally
she’ll invite some real losers.  I cannot abide with the upwardly mobile set. 
It’s in bad taste to talk about what you have or how you got it.  Breeding
can’t be learned.”

“Then is it a talent?”

“Yes it is.  Poor people who raise their children to respect
others, they have good breeding.  Rich people with pedigrees that let their
children run amuck don’t.  Yes, it is a talent.  Oh good God, here comes Doctor
Music Pants and the limp fiddle boy.  The kid has talent, no doubt, but he has
no musculature.  If it weren’t for his bones he would be a sack of flesh.”

I watched them approach.  The doctor had an air of authority
and cut through the room while his protégé walked so close behind him that he
resembled a racecar drafting.  Lady Mary held out her hand and Doctor Marcum
bent over and kissed it.  His shadow mumbled something and fled.

“You’re going to have to teach him how to talk.  Maybe ask
Liz for some deportment lessons,” Lady Mary advised.

“You’re too hard on the boy.  His talent will gain him a
spot in the sun.”

“Without people skills his wings will burn, just like
Icarus.”

I had a feeling that this battle was just beginning. 
Fortunately, it was time to go in and eat.  Doctor Marcum gave Lady Mary his
arm, and I followed behind them.  Caroline directed us to our seats.  I was
sitting between Peter and Liz. Directly across from me was Doctor Marcum.  To his
right was Noelle and Stephen to his left.  I promised myself I would not
frighten the boy even though it was tempting.

The meal was wonderful and Doctor Marcum was a good
conversationalist.  Peter told him I was a musician and played in a symphonic
band in the United States.  I admired the gentleman for his feigned interest in
community bands.  Also for his restraint for not letting wine come out of his
nose when I told him what instrument I played.  Stephen, however, didn’t know
what an alto clarinet was.

“You are familiar with a soprano clarinet?”

He nodded.

“It is larger, a couple more keys than the soprano and in E
flat instead of B flat.”

“Samuel plays one,” he said to Dr. Marcum.

“No, that’s the Bass clarinet.  Alto clarinet is a harmony
instrument very popular in the 1920s.  It isn’t so popular now.  You are a
rarity.”

“Thank you, I know.”  I admired the way he didn’t say, “Why
the hell are you playing that?”

“Bobby Bathgate is in her band.”  Peter smiled at me.  I
didn’t know exactly what he was up to.

“Bobby Bathgate?  What a small world, his father Edward
taught me.  How is he?”

“Fine, very busy of course.”

“Stephen, Bobby is a trumpet player, very fine trumpet
player.  Made a name for himself in the jazz arena.”

Stephen just nodded.  I think he may have overexerted
himself with the alto clarinet.

“I spent a summer at Bathgate the second to last year it was
in session.  Did you hear a student that went there is going to be knighted by
the Queen?”