03 Murder by Mishap

Sybown
Press

Cover Designer: Jamie
Reddig

All rights reserved

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are purely fictitious and the products of the author’s imagination. The author has also taken the liberty of placing fabricated homes in the middle of actual neighborhoods. Any resemblance to actual persons or places is coincidental and unintentional. Places of interest and historic references are real.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or electronic transference without written permission from the author.

Copyright © 2012 by Suzanne Young

ISBN 978-0615622866

Sybown
Press

9028 West 50th Lane, #1

Arvada, CO 80002-4441

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my siblings

Richard

Elaine (in memory)

Carolyn and

Joshua,

with
love.

Other books in the Edna Davies series

Murder by Yew, 2009

Murder by Proxy, 2011

Chapter One

“What’s that glittering in the middle of Peg’s garden?” Edna Davies muttered to no one, as there was nobody nearby to hear. 

She had been walking to the Providence Art Club to attend a special exhibition of watercolors and oil paintings by students from the Rhode Island School of Design when, passing the home of a friend, she was momentarily startled by a bright reflection.  Only seconds before, she probably would have passed it by unnoticed but for the sun taking that moment to slip out from behind dark clouds to spotlight the object. 

Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have taken that route to her destination or been on foot at all, but an early April, blinding downpour had forced her to pull her car to the curb a block away. Over in minutes, the storm had left behind an invigorating, spring freshness to the air that prompted her to leave her car and walk the few blocks to Thomas Street and the distinguished art club.

It shines like a diamond
, she thought, approaching the wrought-iron bars of the tall fence enclosing her friend’s property. Pushing her face against the metal, Edna strained for a better view.  Wanting to get as close as possible, she removed her brushed-felt hat and squeezed her head through the bars. 

Getting a better view, she saw what looked to be a brooch sticking up out of the soil. Only a small piece of the edge remained caught in the dirt, so the pin was propped at an angle.  Apparently, the rain had washed it enough to allow
the
sun to reflect off the stone’s facets.  She could now see that the object consisted of more than a single diamond.  The one that had sparkled, catching her attention, appeared to be the center stone of the brooch. Encircling this main diamond were sapphires which, in turn, were surrounded by smaller diamonds and an outer ring of rubies. A lovely red-white-and-blue pin, lying atop freshly turned earth about three feet from the fence.

Peg must have dropped it
, Edna thought as she felt the first twinge in her spine.  When she tried to back out from between the bars, she found it wasn’t as easy as it had been to slip her head in through the rain-slicked metal. 

After a brief struggle, her ears began to sting from rubbing against gritty iron. She grabbed hold of the shafts a few inches above and to each side of her head in an attempt to relieve her aching back of some weight. She considered her situation. While she was thinking about how to extricate herself before her back gave out entirely or her ears became bloody, a pair of brown brogues beneath khaki pant legs stepped into view.

“That you, Ed?”

Recognizing the distinct Rhode Island accent of her former college roommate and long-time friend with a mix of relief and embarrassment, she said, “Yes, Peg. It is I.”

Edna thought she heard a stifled snigger. 

“May I ask what you’re doing?”

For nearly fifty years, the two friends had communicated by understatement, each attempting to outdo the other with dry wit. Hence, Edna’s reply, “I’ve been admiring the brooch you’ve planted in your garden.”

“Shall I call Stephen and have
him
bring the camera?”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t,” Edna said. Before she could say more, she felt the hem of her dress brush across the backs of her thighs as a gentle breeze picked up. Reaching behind with one hand, trying to make certain her skirt was in its proper place, she asked, “Am I drawing a crowd?”

“Not yet.”

“If the wind gets any stronger, I will be, I fear.”

“Instead of mooning my neighbors, you could have come into the yard, you know. The gate isn’t locked.”

“I was on my way to the Art Club when your old pin there distracted me. I hadn’t planned on staying this long.”

“What pin?”

“It’s a bit to the left of your foot.” 

“Oh, yes. I see it.”  From her nearly doubled over position, Edna saw only Peg’s hand as her friend picked up the jewel. A brief pause preceded a sharp intake of breath. 
“My god.
This is Mother’s brooch. She lost it ages ago.” After another few seconds of silence, Edna heard Peg mutter very softly, “My god.
Poor
Cherisse
.”

“That’s nice, Peg. I’m very glad to have found your mother’s jewelry.” She winced as she felt a jab of pain. “I don’t know about your ‘poor
Cherisse
’ but do you suppose you could help me get out of here? I think my back’s breaking.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry, Ed. I think it’d be best if I came round to your side.”

“Okay, but please hurry.” Edna grabbed the bars on a level with her shoulders, managing some relief on her spine. She heard no footsteps on the sidewalk from Peg’s rubber-soled shoes, but she knew her friend had arrived when she heard muffled giggles.

“Oh, Ed, I wish you’d let me get Stephen and the camera,” Peg’s voice broke through her laughter.

Peg was the only person in the world whom Edna allowed to call her “Ed,” mainly because she’d never been able to break her friend of the habit. Now, Edna assumed her coldest tone.  “If you do, I will seriously consider ending our friendship.”

“Perhaps you won’t mind if I call the gardener over to help. I see he’s decided to get back to work. Fortunately, he finished plowing up this patch before the rain came. Imagine you finding Mother’s old pin in the dirt.”

“Yes, Peg, but I’m fast regretting it. Please get me some help.”

“Right.
Sorry, Ed. Hello!
Goran
! Over here, if you have a minute, please.”

Another pair of shoes came into Edna’s view. These ones were worn, black work boots accompanied by dark blue pants with mud-spattered cuffs. 
“Yes, ma’am?
What seems to be the trouble?” His voice was low and soft, carrying only a hint of amusement. Pleasant, Edna would have said under different circumstances. Now all she could think was
,
He’s about as funny as Peg. Isn’t it obvious what the trouble is?

“Edna, I’d like you to meet our new gardener,
Goran
Pittlani
.
Goran
, this is my very best friend, Edna Davies. She’s just found my mother’s long-lost, birthday brooch. See?”

“Peg,” Edna almost shouted.
“Show and Tell later, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes. Of course, Ed.
Goran
, would you see if you can help me to free my friend from these bars? Perhaps not, but it’s worth a try. Otherwise, we may have to cut them.” 

Edna felt Peg’s fine-boned, delicate fingers prodding and pressing her ears tightly against her head as a larger, stronger hand pushed gently on the top of her head. On Peg’s command, Edna pushed against the bars with her hands at the same time as she arched her back and, finally, pulled her head free. With a groan, she turned and sat down heavily onto the narrow grass strip that ran between the fence and the sidewalk.

Peg leaned down to take her arm. “I think it would be best if you came into the house.  The neighbors might think you’re a bag lady, sitting here on the street.” 

Edna was certain she heard another suppressed chuckle. “You may be right, but at the moment, I can’t stand upright and I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to wear pierced earrings again.”

“Can I be of any more assistance, ma’am?” The gardener’s deep voice came from behind Edna.

“I think we can manage now. Thank you,
Goran
,” Peg replied. To Edna, she said, “Try standing.
For me.
The ground is wet and you’re liable to catch your death, on top of everything else.” Peg tugged gently on Edna’s arm and between her pulling and Edna pushing up with her free hand, she managed to get to her feet and stood only slightly bent over.

In this manner, she hobbled beside Peg, around the fence, through a narrow pedestrian gate, up the brick walk and into the old
Graystocking
family mansion. The front door opened into a large, high-ceilinged foyer. Opposite the entryway, a wide staircase rose to a landing from which stairs
branched
both right and left to the second-floor. An enormous crystal chandelier hung in the center of the vaulted ceiling and sparkled in the light from a window in the hallway that ran above the front door.

On the main floor, to the left of the stairs, the door to the library stood open, revealing a wide brick fireplace. A matching door to the right of the staircase was hardly ever left open and, as a matter of fact, was always locked when the office was unoccupied by the master of the house. Wide arches at the left and right of the foyer led to the dining and living rooms, respectively.

Having been to the house many times over the years, Edna sensed more than consciously saw the interior because, immediately upon entering, she collapsed onto a Persian rug immediately inside the front door.  She rolled onto her back and the hard surface made her feel better immediately.  “Be a dear and straighten my skirt over my legs, would you?” she said, looking up at Peg.

Her friend obliged before pulling over a straight-backed chair to sit beside and look down at Edna.  There was a glimmer in Peg’s light-blue eyes and her voice held only a trace of mirth when she asked, “Comfy?”

“Very. Thank you.” Edna closed her eyes. “I’ll get up in a minute, but this feels too good right now.” After an unusually lengthy silence, she opened her eyes to see Peg studying the newly-found pin with an uncharacteristically somber look. “Your mother’s, did you say?”

“Yes. Father gave it to her for her birthday the first year they were married. Her birthday was July fourth. That’s why the red, white and blue. He had it specially designed.” Turning the jewel over in her hands, she looked down at Edna. “The pin in back is bent, but other than that, it doesn’t seem any worse for the wear. I think it can be easily fixed.”

“What did you mean when you said ‘poor
Cherisse
’?” Edna remembered Peg’s mother’s name had been Isabelle, so who was
Cherisse
?