“All right.”
Howard opened a bottle of wine and Michael took the casserole out of the oven, using a couple of towels as pot-holders. Then the table was cleared of papers and the three men sat down to eat.
It was more truth than prophecy.
By nine o’clock he was gone and another name was crossed off the list — Cassius Cassandra, Seabreeze Hotel, occupation, prophet. Several names had already been crossed off, including the one immediately above it: Miss Firenze. Two more were added: Peter Cunningham and Randy.
“Why Randy?” Michael asked.
“It’s the name of the young man or boy Cunningham was calling. Walsh says he didn’t mention it to the police which makes it the kind of thing we’re looking for, an omission, a line of investigation missed or not followed through.”
“We don’t even have his last name.”
“Perhaps Mr. Cunningham will be kind enough to provide it. Or if he’s not kind enough,” Howard added grimly, “perhaps we can see to it that he’s scared enough.”
“I’m opposed to any kind of force or intimidation, Howard.”
“Are you?”
“I like to think so.”
“But not as opposed as you were, say, six months ago.”
“No.”
“You’ve changed, Mike. You’ve changed more than I have.”
“It’s a longer fall from a pedestal than from a seat on the stock exchange. I didn’t ask for the pedestal, it simply came with the territory. I’m glad to be getting free of it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll go into it another time. Let’s get back to work.”
They resumed the task they’d started in the late afternoon. Somewhere in the files that Miss Garrison had copied and delivered to Michael at the church there had to be a list of the clothes found in the closet of the palace, but so far it had not been located. Under clothing there was only a description of what Annamay had been wearing when she left the house with Dru after lunch. There was nothing under apparel, garments, closet, wardrobe, so the clothes in the palace closet were evidently not considered important enough for a separate listing of their own.
A reference was finally located in the report of the sergeant who had first examined the palace after Annamay was reported missing.
Playhouse, clothes closet, contents of:
A child’s sweater, green, cardigan style
Two tennis shoes, one white, one blue
A cotton T-shirt
Nylon undershorts, pink
(All the above were identified by Mrs. Chisholm, the housekeeper, as belonging to Annamay Hyatt.)
Two adult evening gowns, one black chiffon, one blue silk, both in need of repair
One black felt hat trimmed with a pink rose
(These clothes were identified by Mrs. Chisholm as having belonged to Kathleen Hyatt, Annamay’s mother, and given to the child to play grown-up.)
There was no mention of the high-heeled sandals with the rhinestone straps.
Chapter Eight
Dru’s report card for the fall semester was sent to her mother by registered mail, not brought home by Dru herself. This was unusual enough. The contents of the enclosed letter were even more unusuaclass="underline"
Dear Mrs. Campbelclass="underline"
Our efforts to reach you via messages hand-carried by Dru have been unsuccessful. I am therefore using this means of contacting you in regard to the changes in Dru’s behavior and grade-point average.
The entire student body was, of course, shocked by the death of Annamay Hyatt and we had to deal with a number of behavioral problems as a consequence. The shock has gradually worn off and the children have returned more or less to normal. The reverse has been the case with Dru. She appeared quite calm in the beginning, almost as if she believed a great fuss was being made over nothing and her cousin would reappear any day unharmed.
Dru, a bright and motivated student, has become more and more inattentive in class, and aggressive to the point of hostility during game time. She has also violated several of the school rules such as using obscene language, smoking in the lavatory and truancy. These things simply do not add up to the Dru we have known since kindergarten.
I feel that you and I had better discuss the situation and see what can be done to help the child.
Yours most sincerely,
Vicki read the letter twice and glanced briefly and reluctantly at the report card. Then she called her husband, John Campbell, at the Museum of Natural History where he worked and told him to come home immediately because something terrible had happened.
John arrived within ten minutes, expecting to find the house in flames, flooded by a broken water pipe, or at least burglarized. Instead he found Vicki sitting at the bar in the lanai drinking a gin and tonic.
He said, “Well?”
“Dru got a C-minus in social studies.”
“I am staggered. Appalled. Stunned. Now do you mind if I go back to work? I was in the middle of a meeting.”
“By all means go back to your meeting. But I bet if Dru were your own daughter you wouldn’t object to spending some of your time on her problems.”
“Dru isn’t my own flesh and blood but I consider her my daughter.”
“Then take a look at this.” Vicki spread the report card and the letter from the teacher on the bar. “Nothing higher than a C except in science and that was the silkworm project you helped her with. And read what that bitchy woman has to say about Dru’s behavior. I haven’t noticed any change in her at all.”
“I have.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“I’m saying so now.” John put on his reading glasses and studied the report card carefully. “What’s all the commotion about? This isn’t so bad.”
“She used to be an all-A student.”
“So this semester she isn’t. Maybe she won’t be again for some time: Give her a chance to recover. The kid’s had a real shaking up. Annamay was her best friend as well as her cousin.”
“This may sound silly to you because you’re a man and you wouldn’t understand. But I wonder if Dru has suddenly realized she’s not pretty. It’s a terrible disadvantage to a girl not to be pretty.”
“How would you know?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “I suppose that was intended as a compliment. Well, I’m not in the mood for compliments. I want to be serious… Next summer we can start having her overbite corrected and eventually something can be done about her nose. But she has those big ears like Gerald and she’s going to be too tall.”
“Gerald’s big ears didn’t prevent you from marrying him,” John said. “Why did you marry him, by the way?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Will you be saying that about me someday?”
“Maybe, unless you start taking me seriously. Dru’s slipping grades may not be a catastrophe to you. But she simply has to be bright if she’s not pretty. What a shame she didn’t take after my side of the family.”
“You should have thought of that when you were rolling in the hay with Mr. Big Ears.”
“That was vulgar and uncalled for.”
“You asked for it. You know I don’t like to hear references to Gerald or any other of your previous liaisons or whatever you call them.”
“Lovers.”
“Okay, lovers.”
“Gerald had a perfectly beautiful build, if you want the truth.”