War and Peas (14 page)

“I know, I know," Shelley said. "I can't make any sense of it, either. I'm starting to get paranoid and think everybody's up to something shady."

“I wonder if it comes down to Regina herself," Jane said, putting the library book back in the car and closing the doors after making sure the cats were out. "I can't face vacuuming this now. I'll try to bribe one of the kids to do it. Let's go in and sit down. I think it's about to rain.”

When they were settled at Jane's kitchen table, and had duly admired the birdless bird feeder, Shelley said, "What do you mean about Regina?"

“Just that we didn't really know her at all. We're relying almost entirely on other people's impressions of her, and they're not all the same. And yet I don't feel like I've got a balanced picture of what she was really like, merely a bunch of conflicting ideas. How long will it be before birds come?"

“Any second now."

“Really?"

“No, Jane! Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. You're right about Regina. Sharlene thought she was a goddess — remote, perfect, sort of bloodless, but kind. I'm not sure that's what Sharlene thinks, but that's the impression I had."

“Right. Me, too," Jane said. "But Derek seems to have seen her as a stumbling block to his sexual and professional ambitions. He tried to seduce her out of her job and it didn't work. He thinks she was cold and probably imagines she was as ambitious and aggressive as he is. And for all we know, he was right."

“And we're told that Caspar Snellen hated her, too, claiming that she'd tricked Miss Daisy into giving the money to the museum just to further her own ambitions. Regina's ambitions, I mean.”

Jane nodded. "Caspar's a creep, but even creeps can be right occasionally."

“Probably not in this case, though," Shelley said. "Everybody seems to agree that Babs McDonald was a lifelong friend to Miss Daisy, and if Babs even suspected that Regina was conning her friend, she wouldn't have been supportive of her. And she must have been, or Regina wouldn't have kept her job all this time."

“I suppose so," Jane allowed. "But Babs said herself that she didn't approve of Caspar or Georgia. She wouldn't have wanted them to have Miss Daisy's money to throw away. Maybe she just turned a blind eye—"

“I don't think Babs ever turned a blind eye on anything," Shelley said.

“You say that only because you want to be her when you grow up," Jane said.

Shelley laughed. "I guess I wouldn't mind. I sure hope I have her figure, her hair, and her wardrobe when I'm her age."

“You can't fool me. You can buy all that stuff. What you want is her 'presence.' “

Shelley looked disgruntled at this blunt truth. "I wonder what the real story is about her husband's death. I didn't have any opportunity to ask Sharlene about the newspaper clipping."

“Let's stick to Regina," Jane said. "Whitney Abbot thought well of her. He wanted to marry her. More than wanted to, he planned to. I can't imagine him getting swept away by anyone who was less than perfect."

“Yes, but like we said before, if he felt he'd been made a fool of in some way, or tricked by her, it might be a motive for murder."

“A pretty thin one," Jane said. "My take on him is that he'd consider social shunning a fate far worse than death."

“Lisa, of course, thought well of Regina," Shelley said. "But what about Jumper?”

Jane shrugged. "No idea. He was Miss Daisy's attorney and probably would have dissuaded her from giving her money to the museum if he thought there was anything dishonest or disreputable about Regina."

“What if he was in love with her?" Shelley said suddenly, looking as if she'd taken herself by surprise with the thought.

Jane stared at her friend for a minute as if she'd gone completely mad. "I — you take my breath away. What an extraordinary idea! But if he were, why would he kill her?"

“Because she was going to marry Whitney.

They were going to announce it at the groundbreaking party. The if-I-can't-have-you nobody-can thing. Jane, that makes more sense than anything else. It's passion. Even the most normal people can be driven to murder by passion.'

“I don't like it," Jane said. "I really,
really
don't like this idea, because I do like Jumper."

“But that's got nothing to do with it," Shelley said. "Give me a good reason why it couldn't be Jumper."

“I can do that," Jane said after a moment's thought. "Because I think he's in love, all right. With Sharlene. She's certainly in love with him. And what's more, I think it's up to us to do something about it!"

“Jane, will you please make up your mind whether you're a sleuth or a matchmaker?"

“I can be both. I told you, I'm a modern woman.”

The rain
was
only a drizzle and stopped just as Todd arrived home. Jane managed, by a balanced combination of bribes and threats, to convince him to take the hand vacuum outside and finish the car cleaning. She got busy fixing her own special macaroni and cheese casserole (part of the bribe), and because this was a great favorite with the kids, all three of them managed to fit dinner at home into their social schedules.

Jane was loading the dishwasher when the phone rang.

“Jane, this is Babs McDonald. I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner."

“No, we just finished."

“Good. I wonder if I might ask you a favor. I'd like to meet you to discuss something. I understand from Jumper that you were present this morning when he had a rather unpleasant discussion with Derek Delano—"

“I was," Jane said hesitantly. So much for thinking she'd made herself invisible.

“And I presume you've discussed it with your friend Shelley."

“I — er, yes."

“Quite natural that you would," Babs assured her. "Then perhaps you two would be willing to get together with me so I can tell you about killing my husband?”

"That's what she said," Jane said, glancing around Shelley's pristine kitchen resentfully. Shelley's house was always clean, yet Jane almost never actually caught her cleaning it.

“So what's the plan?" Shelley asked.

“You know that family-style restaurant across the street from the mall? We ate there once and the entree was awful, but Babs swears the desserts are wonderful. We're supposed to meet her there at eight-thirty. You will come, won't you?"

“I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

They arrived a few minutes early and Babs was already in a booth at the far wall. She gestured regally, and like schoolgirls summoned to the principal's office, Jane and Shelley joined her. They made awkward chitchat while giving their orders — at least it was awkward on their part. Babs didn't seem the least disconcerted.

“I know it's a ghastly place," she said quietly so the waiter wouldn't hear, "but the grandson of a friend of mine does the desserts and they're superb. I recommend either the lemon meringue pie or the raspberry torte, and the brownie fudge cake is the best chocolate I've ever tasted.”

They each ordered one of these three suggestions and kept the conversation relentlessly impersonal until the desserts arrived and had been duly tasted and shared. Finally, Babs said, "I don't normally have any particular urge to talk about myself or rehash my own history, but in light of what Jumper told me, I thought I should explain—"

“You really shouldn't feel you have to tell us anything if it's too painful to talk about," Jane said.

Babs smiled. "I've found there are very few things too painful to discuss. To do, perhaps, but not to discuss. And I wouldn't be speaking of it at all except that I feel you are both honorable, trustworthy women. I'm seldom wrong about these things. And, Jane, in case you're wondering if I'm about to confess something that will put you in an awkward position with your friend Detective VanDyne, let me assure you that I'd be entirely content to tell him as well, should he wish to hear it firsthand."

“Thank you," Jane said weakly.

Babs set her fork on her plate, placed her elbows on the table, and crossed her hands elegantly. "I grew up in privileged circumstances and was a 'good girl.' My parents were fine, if rather snobbish, shallow people, and I was their only daughter. I adored them and did all I could to please them. Bobby McDonald was the only son of their closest friends, and it was assumed we would marry eventually. I was content with the idea. He was bright, charming, good-looking. I convinced myself I was in love with him, al- though I had no idea what love meant. It was merely girlish romanticism.

“When the war started, I was only nineteen. Too young to marry under normal circumstances, but the war wasn't normal. And while nobody ever admitted it openly, Bobby's parents pushed for the marriage to take place before he left. I think their pride in their name and heritage was so great that they feared it would die with him, should he not survive. Perhaps they were in the grip of parental premonition and hoped that I would conceive a grandson.

“A big society wedding was planned, with a leisurely honeymoon in California, but Bobby's orders were changed and we had only two days to stage the thing. I wanted the big wedding, the bridesmaids, the big white dress and everything. It was the dream of every girl of my class in those days, but I was pressured to go along with the slapdash alternative. I was such a 'good girl,' and there was an element of romance at that time in hasty marriages.”

She stopped speaking as the waiter approached and poured everyone fresh coffee. When he'd gone, she continued. "I discovered on my wedding night that there was a truly savage side to this handsome, charming boy I had married. I don't mean fumbling, insensitive over eagerness. I mean true viciousness. I won't bore you with the details, but if there is such a thing as a pornographic horror novel, I lived it. For two days, that seemed like an eternity in hell. And then he left to go be a hero. I moved back in with my parents. I worked as a volunteer at a hospital. And I prayed every night that the next day would bring the telegram saying he was dead.

“But the telegram didn't come. A year went by. A year in which I relived those two days over and over and over and grew more terrified—"

“Why didn't you tell your parents?" Shelley asked quietly. "Surely they'd have wanted to save you. The marriage might have been annulled—”

Babs shook her head. "Nice girls didn't talk to anyone about sex in those days, especially not their parents. And they wouldn't have believed me even if I could have gotten the words out. Of course, the words weren't in my vocabulary then. Besides, he'd had the cunning not to leave marks any place that I'd dream of showing anyone. None of us had ever seen him be anything but polite and cheerful — before. No. They'd have thought I'd gone mad. And it would have destroyed a lifelong friendship between them and Bobby's parents. Most of all, I was still a good girl.

“Anyway, Bobby was wounded very slightly and, while recovering in a field hospital, got a severe ear infection. His father pulled all sorts of strings and got him transferred home to the States for treatment. His train arrived at five o'clock in the afternoon. Our whole social set turned out to meet the returning hero, and there was a dinner and reception planned for him at the country club. I spent the evening in the bathroom, being sick. He spent his time drinking.

His parents wanted us to stay at their house, but my parents, with the best intentions in the world, had rented a hotel suite for us so we could be alone together, which was the most horrifying thought in the world to
me. I
was dizzy with fear.

“I'd driven my car to the club, and since I was sober, I drove us to the hotel. It was December. Cold and icy. I can still remember the faint burned-sugar smell my car heater made. Sometimes I catch a whiff of an odor like that and it still makes me sick.”

Jane was feeling sick herself, just listening and imagining the terror that the innocent young Babs must have felt. But Babs was speaking calmly now, far more calmly than Jane could have.

“We left the country club and I was trying to concentrate on my driving," Babs went on. "The road was treacherous. And as we reached a spot where there had been many winter accidents due to a sharp curve and a steep embankment, Bobby reached over and yanked my skirt up and plunged his hand into my crotch. I had a second of frigid terror, and then a stunning realization. This was going to be the rest of my life. And I couldn't live such a life. I can't tell you how liberating it was. I was suddenly calm, rational, and happier than I'd ever been. I knew how to get out of the nightmare and it was easy. I'd
die.
It was so simple! And I'd take him with me so he couldn't ruin anyone else's life when I was gone. It was the only truly spiritual moment of my life. I thought God had set it up forme — the cold, the icy road, the sharp corner, the embankment. It was all so perfect that it had to be a Divine Order. So I wrenched the wheel sharply to the left. And killed Bobby McDonald.”

She paused and took a sip of coffee. "But not myself," she added. "Obviously. When I recovered, I still felt I had done God's work. I believe it to this day. And the months I was in the hospital gave me time to realize other things, too. That I could never go back to being anybody's good girl. That my body and my mind were in my own sole care and would remain so. I would never let another man have control of either. I would create my own life the way I wanted it to be.”

Jane discovered she'd been holding her breath for quite a long time.

Shelley started to speak, but for once had no words.

Babs put out both her hands and Jane and Shelley each took one. Babs squeezed them firmly, then let go. "My dears, this is harder on you than me. I'm sorry I upset you, but I thought you should know. And maybe, too, I just needed to tell it one more time. Selfish of me, but I'm of an age to feel entitled to a little selfishness. To finish the story, I couldn't go back to my parents' house and wasn't well enough to live alone for several months, so my dear friend Daisy took me in and cared for me. Not only physically, but mentally as well. Although she had no interest in an academic life, she was the one with the perception to realize it would suit me. She gave me college catalogs, and helped me find my own apartment when I was well enough. It hurt my parents, I know, that I turned to a friend instead of them, but that was how it had to be.”