Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel) Page 12

  Patrick moved into the living room, greeting a number of university professors before making a beeline for the bar. He winked at Lee as he maneuvered through the dining room, grabbing something from the table before slipping quietly out the door to the sunroom. Before Lee could settle on her own strategy, she felt a leaden hand on her shoulder and turned to find Mrs. Bates only inches away.

  “Lee, I’m so glad you could come,” she said in a lazy voice, her jowls trembling slightly.

  Mrs. Bates was wearing a rose colored wool suit that looked like it came right out of one of Patrick’s old movies, with a string of pearls wrapped tightly around her sagging neck. Eloise Bates never wore makeup, even face makeup, so that, to Lee, the deep lines in her face made her look like a dried prune.

  Lee flashed her best smile. “Happy Birthday, Mrs. Bates. Thank you for inviting me. This is really a lovely party.”

  The older woman looked around the room with a blank expression. “It’s nice to have so many friends here.”

  Lee produced the card and bottle of wine. “I found a bottle of Fetzer wine you might like. I know you traveled down to California last year for a wine tour.”

  “How nice of you. Thank you. You know, Lee,” she began stiffly, taking the bottle. “I’d like to stop by next week. I have something important I want to talk about. I mentioned it to that assistant of yours, but nothing was done.”

  “Uh…Diane?” Lee paused. It could be that Mrs. Bates was unaware of Diane’s death. “I’m sorry. Just give me a call. I’m sure whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

  The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Bates excused herself to welcome another couple. Lee turned away to follow Patrick, but bumped smack into Bud Maddox who was standing behind her. He was talking with a slender, dark-haired woman dressed in crisp gray slacks and a cashmere sweater. Maddox turned as if to merely acknowledge the mistake, but seeing Lee, made the full turn with a forced grin.

  “Well, well, I thought you were taking a little vacation,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “Sounds like you raised quite a stir this morning.” He leaned toward her as if to share a secret. “You’d do better spending your time grieving rather than raising questions.”

  Lee locked eyes with him in an effort to stare him down and suddenly the room felt quite small. “At least one of us actually is grieving.”

  Maddox only returned a light laugh. The woman behind him merely stared at her.

  Lee turned away and muttered, “Asshole,” and then retreated back into the entryway.

  She ducked down a hallway and back through the kitchen to the sunroom, where she found Patrick laughing with the bartender, a glass of Scotch in his hand. Roland Bates and another man had joined him.

  Roland Bates was an odd man with a protruding stomach and a large nose. He was standing with one hand behind his back. Lee couldn’t decide if he looked more like W. C. Fields or Alfred Hitchcock. The man with him was short and skinny. Together, they could have been characters from a Dr. Seuss book as they listened to Patrick talk about the Ireland he really knew little about.

  “I’m telling you,” Patrick leaned into them, “before the Great Plague, the Irish survived on potatoes. They ate them mornin’, noon and night. Potato stew, potato pancakes, potato biscuits. They even invented the French fry, although it wasn’t called that then, o’ course.”

  The little man interrupted him. “That’s just like pizza. It wasn’t invented by the Italians, either.”

  Patrick seized the opportunity. “Exactly right! The Irish used to fry up little sticks of potatoes in a skillet, and today we have French fries.”

  He lifted a glass in a meaningless toast. Lee stepped to the bar.

  “Give me your best white wine,” she said to the bartender.

  He reached for a Riesling, his eyes still watching Patrick. It was clear Roland and his guest hadn’t been the only ones caught up in Patrick’s story. She waited while he poured a glass. Patrick turned to her as his audience drifted back into the house. She waited until they were out of earshot.

  “French fries?” she smirked. “Are you kidding?”

  “You don’t know it’s not true,” he said, suppressing a smile. He took a sip of his own drink and eyed her carefully. “Don’t tell me you’re bored already.”

  “I was bored on the way here.”

  His eyebrows shot up in mock complaint. “Oh, thanks a lot, Sis. I’m hurt beyond belief. Sure and you’ll be tellin’ me that you’ll be wantin’ to go home with someone else. Perhaps none other than Roland himself.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she frowned and looked around to make sure no one but the bartender had heard the affront.

  “You talkin’ to me?” Patrick suddenly asked pointing at her. “You talkin’ to me?”

  “That’s from Taxi Driver,” the bartender shouted. “Great movie!” he said as he dried a glass.

  Patrick looked at the bartender and then winked coyly at his sister.

  She rolled her eyes and turned to leave. “Go look for those bodies in the basement.”

  “What bodies in the basement?” the bartender asked in earnest.

  Not too bright, she thought. She stepped back into the kitchen leaving Patrick to make his own entertainment. She grabbed a small quiche from under the watchful eye of one of the caterers and emerged into the hallway again, where she looked around with caution, hoping to God she wouldn’t run into Maddox a second time. She decided to take a tour of the house and popped the quiche into her mouth before poking her head into the guest bathroom. She raised an eyebrow at the austere white interior, marble counter top, gold faucets, and monogrammed towels. When she turned to leave, she bumped into Martha Jackson, who was heading inside.

  “Oh, hello, Lee. It’s an amazing house, isn’t it?” her CEO said.

  Lee swallowed before saying, “I haven’t seen much of it yet.”

  Lee felt awkward talking to the hospital CEO in a bathroom, but Martha Jackson seemed oblivious to the moment.

  “Well, make sure you see the upstairs.” Martha started into the bathroom and then stopped. “And, Lee, be careful what you say tonight.” She gave Lee a knowing nod and closed the bathroom door in her face.

  Lee saw the sweeping staircase leading to the second floor and decided to follow Martha’s advice. She climbed the stairs and started with a French provincial bedroom at the head of the stairs and then moved on to one decorated with an ebony four-poster bed that showcased a huge kimono encased in glass. There was also a richly decorated office that sported dark leather furniture and a carpet putting green. Lee looked at her watch and was disappointed to find she’d only consumed ten minutes. She was about to return to the first floor when she noticed a set of carved double doors at the end of the hallway. She looked around for intruding eyes and then traversed the space and stepped inside. What she saw took her breath away.

  The room was adorned from floor to ceiling with cats. Cat figurines crowded every shelf and bureau top. A decorative wood shelf had been installed around the room sixteen inches from the ceiling to display an enormous collection of stuffed cats. Some were obviously antiques; others were collectibles, while still others were clearly nothing more than children’s toys. Cat pillows filled the center of the bed. Somebody had handcrafted a set of lampshades out of a cat print material, while a large antique bureau held several inlaid jewelry boxes with cats crafted onto the lids. A porcelain teapot arranged with flowers was painted with two cats frolicking after a butterfly, and a large coffee table book entitled Cats sat on an antique highboy chest. Everywhere she looked, she saw felines. She was repulsed, yet riveted, barely conscious of the music and laughter downstairs.

  To her left was a small child’s desk. On it were children’s Valentine cards. She bent over to pick one up. The colorful image was that of a cat handing a Valentine to a mouse. Lee thought this was meant to mimic the olive branch, but if you looked at the cat’s expression closely, it was much more sinister. As she studied the card, she sensed the
air in the room shift and glanced up. A face stared back at her from the large mirror above the bureau.

  Lee spun around and let out an involuntary, “Shit!” as she came face to face with a set of dark, glaring eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Lee apologized, throwing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

  “What are you doing here?” the woman growled.

  “I was just looking around,” Lee said, putting the card down.

  “Not in here,” a thin lip curled angrily.

  “I… uh…didn’t know the upstairs was off limits,” Lee stuttered.

  “This room is.”

  The woman’s eyes were mere slits in her head, and a narrow red mouth accented the dark facial hair that covered her upper lip. There was no question as to who she was. The resemblance to her mother was unmistakable. This was Pauline Bates. According to rumors, Pauline Bates had never married and lived at home. Lee thought she’d heard that Pauline had attended the university at one time and graduated with a degree in biology or something, but that she’d never held a job.

  As the two women stared at each other, a brisk breeze pushed its way through the open balcony doors. The Bates woman brushed past Lee as if she weren’t there and went to the French doors. She grabbed a door handle in each hand and stood with her arms outstretched, ready to close them. A second breeze picked up the black scarf she wore around her neck, intertwining it with her stringy black hair.

  A chill jerked its way through Lee’s body. The black dress. The black hair. The black scarf. It was the same image − the same woman − from the grassy knoll above the graveyard the day Diane was buried.

  Lee backed away feeling as if she were trapped underwater. Her lungs just wouldn’t expand. As she backed up, she bumped into a small table near the door, knocking a ceramic cat figurine to the floor. It hit the table pedestal and broke in half. Lee stared at it wide-eyed, knowing full well she’d just made a huge mistake.

  “Oh…I’m so sor…” Lee began.

  Pauline Bates turned in a whirl of black chiffon, her face a dramatic mask of grief. As Lee reached down to pick up the figurine, Pauline rushed forward, forcing Lee to back into the hallway. The other woman flew into a kneeling position beside the fallen figurine and picked up the two pieces, turning a dark expression in Lee’s direction. The two women locked eyes for a moment before Lee mumbled an apology, turned and hurried away. She glanced back only once to see the bedroom door slowly close.

  Lee descended the stairs in a state of near panic, almost running into Andrew Platt as he emerged from the coatroom behind the staircase. When she flew off the last stair, he nearly ripped the seam from his pocket trying to get his hand out to catch her.

  “Whoa!” Andrew gasped, pushing the lining of his pocket back in place. “Where are you going so fast?”

  “Oh! Andrew. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here,” she said breathlessly, stepping back. “Um, where’s Miriam?”

  Miriam was Andrew’s wife, and someone Lee would normally try to avoid. She’d only met her a few times at hospital functions, but had always gone away feeling like she’d been dipped in something sticky.

  “I’m sure she’s off somewhere silently criticizing something,” Andrew said cynically. The look on his face was a mixture of bitterness and resignation. “She never gives up, you know. She thinks we ought to live like this.” He attempted a laugh, but fell short. “How’s the party?”

  It took several breaths for Lee to slow her heart rate down sufficiently to answer. Andrew fiddled with his pockets as he waited. She glanced to the top of the staircase half expecting to find Pauline Bates floating down the banister behind her. Andrew followed her gaze.

  “Did you see a ghost? I’ve heard the rumors,” he chuckled, leaning in to her.

  “No, I…uh… just got going too fast down the steps. I’m okay. Actually, I was looking for my brother.”

  “Patrick? Is he here?” Andrew asked.

  “Yes, perched on a blarney stone somewhere telling a story, I’m sure,” she laughed, still flustered. “Have a good time.”

  She started to step away, but Andrew caught her.

  “Have you seen Martha, yet?” he asked.

  “Yes, she’s here.”

  “Well, between you and me, I wouldn’t say anything. You know, about Diane.”

  “Yes, I know, Andrew. Believe me, I won’t say anything.”

  “I just don’t want to see you lose your job.”

  The front door opened to admit a new couple and Andrew lowered his voice.

  “I thought she’d have a coronary today when she heard that Bud Maddox was dating Diane.”

  “Well, I’d like to know the truth,” Lee said, remembering her conversation with Patrick. “I owe that much to Diane.”

  Andrew’s expression grew dark. “Lee, Martha is more ruthless than you think. I ought to know. She makes my life hell. I think you should drop it.”

  “I’m not sure I can, Andrew, especially when Bud is already here with another woman.”

  Andrew’s brown eyebrows adjusted up. “You’re kidding? Diane just died a few days ago. That’s rather crude. Oh, wait a minute,” he interrupted himself, looking over Lee’s shoulder. “I see what you mean.”

  Lee rotated her head to glance into the living room to where Maddox and his date were sitting on an elegant sofa.

  “Who is she, Andrew?” Lee inquired, scrutinizing the woman through the crowded room. “It’s the same woman he was with at the funeral. I’ve seen her before, but I can’t place her.”

  “That’s Dr. Pendleton. She’s a new Emergency Room doc. And the chair of the Ethics Committee.”

  “I wondered how he could score an invitation to this gig.” Lee felt something connect, like the coupling of two railroad cars, but then they slipped apart. She turned back to Andrew. “I guess he’s moved up in the world.” Tears welled in the corner of her eyes and she looked up to the ceiling in an effort to control them.

  Andrew put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lee. This has got to be tough on you. Maybe you really ought to take a vacation. It couldn’t hurt.”

  Lee smiled weakly. Just then, a small severe-looking woman wearing a beaded jacket appeared out of nowhere and removed Andrew’s hand from Lee’s shoulder.

  “How are you, Lee?” she said, her features pinched into a scowl.

  Andrew stiffened as the little woman laced her hand through his elbow. Her short, dark hair was cut like a boy’s, and she wore no makeup.

  Lee quickly dabbed at her eyes. “I’m fine, Miriam. Isn’t the house lovely?”

  “It’s nice,” Miriam replied with a dim expression. “If you like such an eclectic style.”

  Miriam carried an air of forced elegance and had never made a positive remark in Lee’s presence that she could remember. Andrew had begun to fidget now that his wife was there. Watching the two, Lee wondered what life was like for Andrew. Between Martha Jackson and Miriam, it couldn’t be easy.

  “Well, remember what I said,” Andrew said with a curt nod, and the two walked away.

  She stared after them, deciding this party had to be one of the worst parties she’d ever attended. It was time to find her brother and leave. She slipped into the dining room and found Patrick leaning against the food table talking to an orthopedic surgeon and the President of the University. What they all had in common she couldn’t imagine. No matter. She would let Patrick know in no uncertain terms that it was time to go.

  She’d almost made it safely to Patrick’s side when she was intercepted by the wife of a prominent attorney who had made one too many trips to the bar. The woman had attended their annual auction six months earlier and purchased a package trip to Hawaii that had been fraught with problems.

  “Lee,” she wailed a bit too loudly. Her hand reached for Lee’s arm but missed, and she nearly toppled over. Lee grabbed for her elbow.

  “Mrs. Bernstein. How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” she slurred. “I wante
d to thank you for taking care of that little matter.” She winked at Lee and started to sway.

  Lee helped her steady herself. “I was happy to help.”

  “If you ask me,” Mrs. Bernstein whispered, breathing heavily into Lee’s face, “Joseph Putnam is a cheap bastard!”

  “Well, Mr. Putnam is out of town a lot, Mrs. Bernstein. I think he left most of the arrangements up to his assistant. I’m just glad we got it all worked out.”

  Lee felt guilty having just blamed the problem on Putnam’s assistant, a woman she didn’t even know, but decided it was worth it when she noticed Mrs. Bernstein listing to one side. Lee let go of her elbow and stepped away, hoping the woman could stand on her own.

  “Let me know if there are any more problems.”

  “Oh, I will,” the other woman gushed. “Thank you, Lee.” With that, she stumbled away.

  Someone touched Lee’s elbow and she shrank from what she thought would be another hideous encounter. When she turned, it was Patrick’s boyish grin that greeted her.

  “Having fun?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said, moving through the living room toward the staircase.

  “Whoa,” he called, following her. “We just got here.”

  “Too bad.”

  Lee left her brother in the foyer and went to the guestroom where she found her coat in the closet, but had to search for her purse. She found it on the floor right beneath her coat. Suspicious, she opened it to search for her wallet, but it was there, along with the small leather wallet she used for credit cards. Nothing seemed to be missing. Perhaps someone just moved it to make more room in the closet. She grabbed it and met Patrick in the hallway.

  Outside, Lee waited until they had reached the bottom steps before letting out a sigh. As she swung her coat around her shoulders, she said, “I don’t ever want to go into that house again.”

  Patrick gave her a curious look. “Well, I have to admit that it lived up to its reputation as being a boring party, but it wasn’t that bad. Besides, we were there less than forty-five minutes.”