A Tangled Yarn, page 16
Just then Kevin St. John came in. He stopped near the entrance and took in the whole room. I saw his gaze stop moving when it landed on Lucinda. Before I could do anything, he’d made a beeline for her, obviously figuring something was going on. She seemed surprised when he took the pitcher from her and pointed her toward our tables.
“Thanks for trying,” I said when she was next to me. “What did he say to you?”
She laughed. “He said he didn’t know what I was up to, but he was sure that you had put me up to it and would I please mind my own business and eat my lunch.”
“He certainly wasn’t being the host with the most,” I said. “I suppose by now his nerves are a little frayed. He’s had to scramble to fix the program and try to make his conference people forget that one of the workshop leaders was killed.” Something occurred to me. “I wonder how far he would go to protect the reputation of Vista Del Mar.”
Lucinda grabbed my hand. “C’mon, we can talk while we get our food.”
There was still a line waiting to move past the cafeteria setup, and we stood at the end.
“You probably guessed I was trying to find the guy you were looking for,” Lucinda said. “I would have found him, too, if Kevin hadn’t butted in. I can tell you that I checked all but the last three tables. I’m an expert at working a room.”
We’d reached the food line and I saw that lunch was a slice of quiche and a salad with tapioca pudding for dessert. I had never managed to eat my breakfast, and the smell of the food reminded me how hungry I was. While I put the plates on our trays, Lucinda looked over the dining room.
“I was giving it a last try. Hoping I could see something from here,” she said.
I turned to follow her gaze and gave up. From here it was just a sea of people. “You gave it your best shot.”
We picked up our trays and went back to our table. As before, everyone had returned to the seat they’d chosen at the first meal. It was funny how it always seemed to turn out that way. I was glad that Dolly and Mona had ended up next to each other. They were talking as they ate. I was sure that it was thanks to Dolly, since Mona kept to herself so much. I’d have to see what Dolly had found out about her.
I glanced over the rest of my people, and everyone seemed to be talking. “Thank heavens they all look pretty happy. Hopefully they’ve already forgotten that Lieutenant Borgnine questioned them again.” I turned to my friend. “I hate to say it, but I think Lieutenant Borgnine was right and it was just a hysterical reaction. Why would anyone want to go through their rooms, anyway?”
Lucinda shrugged as an answer and poked at the quiche. “They should stick to more basic stuff. This is kind of overcooked.”
“Ahem,” a voice behind her said, and she jumped. Kevin St. John was almost touching her chair. “The quiche is not overcooked. You are just not used to our cook’s style of making it.” He checked the faces at the rest of the table to see if they were listening and seemed relieved that most of them were busy with their own conversations. That was except Mona. There was a shadow on her face from the brim of her hat, but even so it seemed like she was staring right at him. He picked up on it, too, and leaned in close to me.
“What’s with that woman? I keep finding her hanging out in the corner, watching something. It seems like she’s watching me. Do you have any idea why?”
I felt cornered by his comment. Where did my responsibility for my people end? I had no idea why she was watching him and even if she really was. When all else fails, go for flattery. “Maybe she finds you attractive. She seems a little older, but these days that’s no obstacle. I kind of remember her asking about you. If you were married, things like that.” I realized this was an opportunity to find out about him. His life was a mystery. Nobody knew if he had a social life or even if he was gay or straight. I pressed on. “So what should I tell her about you? Are you dating anyone? Would you like to go out with a woman?”
“Ms. Feldstein, really.” He punctuated it with an angry shake of his head. “That is none of your business. And I certainly don’t want you discussing my life with the guests. I am just here to make sure their visit is pleasant.” He turned to Lucinda and kept his voice low. “And Mrs. Thornkill, I would appreciate it if you have a complaint about the food that you let me know directly rather than discussing it at the table.”
Okay, I got it. I didn’t think he wanted me to try to fix him up.
“Will you please get the attention of your people?” he said. I stood up and clapped my hands, something I’d learned when I was a substitute teacher trying to round up the kids. The combo of the standing and the noise got their attention, and I turned the floor over to him.
“I wanted to let you know that the minibuses will be leaving as soon as lunch is over.” He went on to remind them of the great activity that he had planned for all the guests of Vista Del Mar. They were going to be taken through the famous 17-Mile Drive, which had some of the most breathtaking scenery in the world, including the famous Lone Cypress. The drive went past impressive mansions, through a forest and up above the clouds. I wondered if he would let them stop at any of the luxurious resorts along the way. Even with all the history and natural beauty connected with Vista Del Mar, if they saw the lawn that rolled to the sea and the fancy shops and classy restaurants at one of them, they might view Vista Del Mar as a lesser place.
Beyond that, they were going to Point Lobos, a natural reserve, where they could watch for whales going by. It was one activity that I regretted missing. No matter how many times I viewed all that scenery, I never got tired of it.
17
I felt like a mother hen walking my group to the driveway next to the Lodge to wait for the bus. The line of minibuses arrived just after we did, and my group trooped onto the first one. Lucinda tried to talk me into going along, but I begged off.
I waited until the line of buses had pulled onto the street and disappeared, and then I went back inside the Lodge. Time was flying by and I was nowhere with the investigation. All I seemed to have was a bunch of disjointed facts.
Frank had suggested that Madeleine might know more than she thought she did. Who knew how long she and Don had talked on the plane or about what. Don might have dropped a comment about meeting someone. Madeleine had disappeared from the morning workshop when Lieutenant Borgnine started questioning the group again, and there was no telling when she’d make another appearance.
The easiest option was a phone call, so I picked one of the vintage phone booths that were lined up on the opposite side of the massive registration desk from the café entrance. As I shut the door on the tiny cubicle, it was hard to imagine that these were once common. There was even a seat inside.
The phones were not vintage, but even so, when I read over the directions, they were too complicated, and I left. I was glad Frank couldn’t see me. “Feldstein, really? You’re flummoxed by a pay phone? What kind of detective are you?”
I had to walk all the way to the guest house before my cell got a signal. I clicked on Madeleine’s number. She answered, but as soon as I mentioned Don Porter’s name, she talked me into coming over.
With the group gone for a while, going to Madeleine’s house was no problem. The Delacorte sisters lived in a beautiful Victorian perched on top of a slope that looked over the town. It was painted a pale shade of lavender and had several porches and a turret on the second floor with curved windows.
Madeleine was waiting by the door and opened it before I could even hit the bell. “I am so glad you came over,” she said, taking me inside. She walked ahead purposefully, but I lingered, checking out the details of the interior. There was even a fireplace in the entrance hall.
The living room was spacious and the furniture elegant. “Sit, sit,” she said, pointing to a sofa with swans carved into the armrests. “I’ll tell Lucy to make us some tea.” She went on for a moment, telling me all the different kinds of tea they had. Then she smiled at me. “It’s all thanks to you that I found out there was more in the world than orange pekoe.” Then she left the room to talk to the housekeeper.
It was hard to believe the restricted life Madeleine had once led. Her mother had taken the idea that they were like the royalty of the small town too seriously and had brought her daughters up with rigid standards for clothes, behavior and even tea. It seemed that Cora, though she was the younger sister, had taken their mother’s place and continued to set the tone for both of them.
I wasn’t sure I wanted the credit that Madeleine gave me, insisting that it was coming to my retreats and becoming friends with me that had opened a door to a world she hadn’t been aware of and now was anxious to explore. She thanked me, and Cora blamed me.
“We’re having Earl Grey,” Madeleine said proudly when she returned. A few moments later Lucy came in and set a tray down on the mahogany coffee table before pouring the tea. I waited until the uniformed young woman left the room.
Madeleine immediately began telling me how glad she was that I’d called. “Cora is off at one of her ladies’ club meetings. She tried to drag me along. I said I’d go, but only if I could wear this.” She stood up and showed off her denim pants and long cream-colored sweater. A multicolored cowl added a cheerful accent. “You should have seen her face. I never realized how not fun my sister is. I wish she’d take a lesson from me for a change.”
Like that was going to happen. I cringed imagining the scene if Madeleine suggested it. I wanted to get to the point, but I knew that it was going to take time if I was going to get any new information from Madeleine. When I’d worked for Frank and done phone interviews for him, I had discovered it was all about being friendly and letting people talk rather than hammering them with questions.
As I looked around the lovely room, I thought of the tiny house that Gwen shared with her daughter Crystal and her two teenage kids. Would Gwen ever tell the Delacorte sisters who she was? There was sure to be some upheaval if she did, but maybe the sisters would be glad to have some family, since as it stood now, they were the end of the family line.
“It’s such fun to have you come over. Everyone my sister brings over is so dreary.” She checked to see that my teacup was still full. “I’m sorry I took off this morning. I was really looking forward to being one of the group. I’ve barely had time to get to know any of them.” She picked up her cup. “When I saw Lieutenant Borgnine come in the room, I had to go. You do understand that I simply can’t be questioned by him.” Her eyes flew skyward. “I’ve declared my independence from my sister’s ways, but I don’t know what she would do if she thought I was going too far.”
“You mean picking up with strange men?” I asked, and she nodded.
“You have to understand that our mother left her in control. So if she thinks I’m doing things that are too out there, she can make it so I can’t do anything. Please tell me you’re here because you have it all figured out.”
“I wish,” I began. “I wanted to ask you about Don Porter.” At the mention of his name, her eyes opened wider and she seemed nervous.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear. I’m just so worried that someone is going to tell Lieutenant Borgnine that I knew him, and then he’s going to show up and ask me a lot of questions, and then Cora is going to wonder why he’s asking so many questions. If she finds out the truth . . . She just can’t. I won’t be pushed around by her anymore.” She stood up and modeled her denim outfit. “You don’t understand. She already thinks my clothing choices indicate that I’m not in my right mind.” She fidgeted with a cloth tote bag and took out her knitting. “Is he still hanging around the resort? I really want to come back this afternoon. I dropped a stitch and I don’t know how to pick it up. And I heard about the party tonight. I’ve never done square dancing.”
I told her there was another workshop in the late afternoon and that it seemed Lieutenant Borgnine was finished talking to my retreaters. I even told her that he thought the whole thing about the rooms being gone through was a hysterical reaction. She didn’t seem to understand what that meant.
“It means that it wasn’t real. Their rooms weren’t gone through. One of them started it and then the rest of them imagined that things had been moved around. The real point was that they all agreed that nothing was missing.” Madeleine smiled at the news.
“Good. Then he doesn’t think our people had anything to do with what happened to Don.”
Now that she’d brought him up, it was easy for me to get to why I was there. “I wanted to ask you. Did he say anything about meeting someone when he came to Vista Del Mar?”
She thought about it for a moment. “No. He did say that he might write about the place, and he made a point of saying that he couldn’t guarantee that it would be all positive. Why?”
I wondered how much I should tell her. I decided to go for broke and told her I had reason to believe that he went to the lighthouse to meet somebody.
“Oh, dear,” she said, seeming distressed. “I wish I’d never started talking to him on the plane.”
When I left, she said she’d be there for the workshop and the square dance. She was particularly excited about the skirts.
All that I’d gotten out of the trip to see Madeleine was that she was bordering on panic over the whole matter with Don Porter. It really did seem she was overreacting, but then she was rather fragile. The discussion had been more tiring than I’d realized, and while it might have been nice to go home and chill out for a while, I felt I had to go to Vista Del Mar to be there when the group returned.
It was almost creepy quiet when I went into the Lodge. But then I heard voices coming from the café. Madeleine’s tea had been nice, but I really needed a coffee drink, and it was another chance to see how the regular muffins I’d dropped off the night before were selling. By this time of day, the basket should be empty.
My eye went to the basket on the counter as soon as I walked in, and I was relieved to see that all the muffins were gone. There was something else missing, too, though: Bridget was not behind the counter. Did that mean she was off with Sammy? I grumbled to myself that I needed to get used to thinking of them as a couple, because Bridget was going to make it happen.
I ordered a coffee from Bridget’s replacement, an older man whom I’d seen before and who was the opposite of talkative. While I waited for him to fill a mug, I checked the room for the source of the voices I’d heard. The clouds were thinning and the light that poured in from the two walls of windows had a hint of sunshine, making it seem very bright. All the tables were empty except for one in the corner.
Lisa and Derek were huddled over mugs of coffee and seemed unaware that I’d come in. I was surprised that they hadn’t gone on the outing. Immediately I thought of how I’d figured they were married to other people and this weekend was some kind of secret meet-up for them. It was none of my business, but I was curious to know if I was right.
As soon as I got my coffee, I went over to their table and, without waiting for an invitation to join them, pulled up a chair.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I said, putting down my mug. “So, you didn’t go on the trip.” They had been so deep in conversation that they were startled by my presence and instantly separated.
They fumbled for a moment and then Derek said that Lisa had a headache. He pointed at the mugs of coffee. “Caffeine is supposed to work with aspirin.”
“And it worked,” Lisa said. “My headache is all gone.”
I sensed that they were going to leave, so I launched right into conversation to keep them there. “I’m sorry you missed the trip, but it’s nice to have a chance to talk to you. I barely know anything about you besides your names.”
They glanced back and forth at each other as if trying to pass some sort of secret message, which made me only more sure that I was right about their relationship.
“I’m afraid we’re pretty dull,” Derek said. “This weekend has certainly been the most exciting thing we’ve ever done. And that was before Don Porter died. I suppose you probably know all about him. He didn’t say much about himself at the workshop.”
I perked up at the word workshop, particularly when I noticed Derek’s green jacket stuffed behind him on the chair. Could he be the one who’d caused the scene Madeleine had described?
“So then you were there. Did you bring some writing to share?”
“No, no, I was just there to get an overview of what travel writing was all about,” he said. It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but if he wasn’t the one who’d done it, he was at least a witness.
“I can understand it must be unnerving to read your work in front of an expert like Don Porter. How did it go with the people whose work got critiqued?”
“One man stands out. He absolutely came unglued at Porter’s comments. It was painful to watch.” I noticed that Derek seemed to be relaxing the more we talked about Don Porter. He turned to Lisa. “I’d forgotten all about him.”
I took a few sips of my coffee, trying to appear nonchalant. “I suppose you could point out the man.”
Derek shrugged. “If I’d known what he was going to do, I would have paid more attention. I was just watching Don Porter, wondering what it was like to live his gypsy lifestyle.”
I’d been so busy trying to figure out who might have killed Don, I hadn’t thought much about who he was. “Did Don talk much about himself at the workshop?”
“There was a bio in the bag of stuff we got, but it didn’t say much beyond that he lived near the airport in Florida with no mention of the town. He said something at the workshop about being a citizen of the world.”
