Midsummer Murder (4 page)

Lindy continued to eat, just enough to be polite, though every dish was cooked to perfection. She listened to stories of Ellis and Stuart’s travels to Europe and the Far East, to Marguerite’s reminiscences of how her mother had begun the retreat that had become her passion. How Marguerite had taken over and continued in her mother ’s footsteps.

Lindy found herself contemplating the woman, letting her words fade to a buzz as the magnetism of her person took over. Her hands played delicately in the air as she spoke. Though she wore no rings, Lindy thought that she must have been married at one time, but couldn’t remember to whom or for how long. For years, her name had graced the society and arts pages of the
Times
, only as Marguerite Easton. It would have been unusual for a woman to keep her maiden name in the years that Marguerite had been of a marriageable age.

Good Lord,
thought Lindy,
I’m even beginning to think like a character
in a country weekend novel.
Marriageable age, indeed. Maybe 19

Shelley Freydont

Marguerite had indulged in free love and wild bohemian carousing back in the forties.

A rush of embarrassment turned her uncomfortably warm.

Would she never learn to control this tendency to wild imagination?

It must be because she was so focused on details in her job as rehearsal director. Like a child who went wild when let out of an arduous day in school, her mind roamed the byways of speculation whenever she had a moment of relaxation. But imagination was good for the stage, wasn’t it? She’d just be a little more disciplined about her choice of subject matter from now on.

She smiled at Marguerite as she consciously erased any lurid thoughts from her mind. Marguerite caught her eye and smiled back; a smile that said any friend of Jeremy’s is part of the family. It made Lindy even more chagrined at her wayward thoughts. She looked away and stabbed at a strawberry torte that had been placed before her while she was off on her mental ramblings.

“I’m absolutely stuffed,” said Ellis, pushing his dessert plate away.

“Let’s have coffee in the library, my dear. I feel a hundred miles away from you and Jeremy. We haven’t seen each other in years, and I’ve had to yell just to get his attention.”

“An excellent idea.” Marguerite rose in a fluid movement. Jeremy and Robert were immediately at her side like well-rehearsed courtiers.

The others bustled about, placing napkins on the table, scooting back chairs, finishing up tidbits of conversation, and followed them out of the dining room.

* * *

The library was wainscoted in dark chestnut paneling. A paisley-and-striped wallpaper in tones of gold, burgundy, and green rose above it to the ceiling. Bookshelves covered two walls and a kneehole desk stood in front of a pair of French doors, partially covered by drapery that pooled onto the floor. A collection of leather couches and chairs was arranged around an unlit fireplace; to its left was a bow window with a cushioned window seat.

Lindy took her coffee from Sandiman and sat on the window seat. She was soon joined by Stuart. He placed his cup on the window sill, lowered himself onto the cushion, and placed his cane along 20

Midsummer Murder

side his thigh. “A nuisance, this.” He indicated the cane and reached for his cup.

Lindy smiled. “It doesn’t seem to hamper your activities, and from the look of things, you’ll be throwing it away before long.”

“I certainly plan to, but let’s not talk about the infirmities of the not-quite-young. I’m so glad that you were able to be here. The preparations for the festival have been enormous. I’m always amazed at the amount of scheduling these things require.”

Lindy nodded.

“Having Jeremy here means so much to Marguerite and Ellis.”

“He wouldn’t have missed it.” She looked across the room to where Ellis and Jeremy stood in front of the bookcase, coffees in hand. Ellis faced the room; Jeremy stood with his back turned so that only his profile was visible as he listened to Ellis. Marguerite floated toward them, said something to Ellis, then took Jeremy’s arm.

The three of them moved toward the side table and put down their cups. Marguerite turned to the others.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “I’d like to go down to the pavilion and look in on the party, if any of you would care to join me.”

Robert, Chi-Chi, and Stuart rose at once, Biddy and Lindy only a beat behind. Depositing cups and saucers, they followed Marguerite out of the room and to the front door where Sandiman stood ready to see them out.

They walked across the expansive driveway and toward a path through the trees. To their right, the glass-enclosed lobby of the theater was lit by a band of lamps. The wooden building loomed large behind it, the rectangular roof of the stage rising above the trees and melding with the darkness of the sky. Farther along and to the left, Lindy could discern the dim outlines of other buildings.

Marguerite and Jeremy led the way, followed by Robert and Chi-Chi, then Biddy on Ellis’s arm. Lindy found herself once again in the company of Stuart.

“Those buildings are the studios. There are two smaller ones off in the trees. And to your left is the dining hall.” Lindy’s gaze followed the direction of his uplifted hand; she smiled at him as his arm enclosed hers.

“The path changes to gravel soon. Be careful of your shoes.”

The couples in front of them slowed down as the women picked their way over the stones of the path. It was slow going, and Lindy 21

Shelley Freydont

realized that it was more than politeness that had caused the men to offer their services as escorts. Their flat shoes were more able to withstand the shifting pebbles beneath their feet.

“I’ve suggested they pave all the paths,” said Stuart. “I can’t imagine why they don’t have more twisted ankles than they do. But Marguerite insists on keeping everything as it has always been.”

His arm tightened on hers as Lindy’s heel slipped between the stones.

“Fortunately most of the students don’t wear four-inch heels.”

He chuckled.

“I’ll remember that when I dress tomorrow.”

A glow of light broke through the trees. They continued toward it, the woods behind them becoming darker as their eyes focused on the light ahead. Once Lindy gasped when an otherworldly face peered at her from the side of the path where a beam of light high-lighted its features.

“Statuary,” Stuart informed her. “You’ll meet some of the great figures of history out there in the woods, not to mention a few from mythology and some unrecognizable abstract forms of some of the resident artists. I think that one’s Will Shakespeare.”

The light grew stronger and the sound of dance music hummed in the air. An open pavilion stood before them; hazy yellow light emanated outward from under the roof like a giant lantern. The music was upbeat and loud, but only a few couples were dancing. Most of the students were standing in groups, talking. Rebo, Juan, and Paul were holding court to several young dancers who lounged against one of the picnic tables that were placed along the perimeter of the concrete floor.

When Jeremy helped Marguerite onto the floor, the group nearest her stood up, sending a ripple across the room. Moments later, everyone was standing, their attention focused on the newcomers. It was the first time Lindy could remember a group of young people responding so politely of their own volition.

The music faded out, and Marguerite and Jeremy led the others to the front of the pavilion. The crowd parted as they passed, gazing intently at the woman who led the way. It was like a royal cortege, thought Lindy. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see the students curtsey and bow. Beneath the pavilion’s roof was a silence so complete 22

Midsummer Murder

that she could hear the rustling of nocturnal creatures somewhere out in the darkness.

Marguerite stepped onto the wooden platform that held the music equipment. She surveyed the room for a moment.

“Good evening, I hope you are all getting to know our guest company members.” Her voice enveloped them and gathered them to her.

Lindy could see the familiar heads of the Jeremy Ash dancers throughout the room. Beyond the call of duty, they had intermingled with the young students. Some companies held themselves aloof, approached each event in the jaded, don’t-bother-me attitude that performers sometimes assumed. She felt a familiar warmth of pride as she contemplated how unique a group it was.

Marguerite called the company forward. Dancers made their way across the floor and joined Biddy and Lindy along the front.

Marguerite introduced each one by name.

“Impressive,” whispered Biddy under her breath. “How does she know who’s who?”

Lindy nodded minutely. “Amazing.”

“And this is the director of the company, Jeremy Ash, one of our most esteemed graduates.” Applause broke out among the students and spread out into the night.

It was a rarefied atmosphere. Marguerite commanded an awe and respect rarely found in any group of people, much less the young who had been raised in a world of self-gratification and offhanded manners.

As the applause tapered off, she continued in a more subdued voice.

“I am sure you are all aware of the accident that took Larry Cleveland’s life.” Heads lowered, eyes searched hers as if seeking reassurance. A few students had climbed onto tables and benches in order to see over the heads of those in front, their concentration drawing them physically toward the directress.

“I am so terribly sorry,” Marguerite continued. “Such a tragedy in our midst.” Lindy saw a few heads turn toward each other, looks exchanged, a comment here and there.

“And even though I know we all feel like curling up under the covers and wishing him back to life, we cannot. We can only go forward, work hard, and try to be the best we can be. To dedicate our lives to 23

Shelley Freydont

carrying on.” A few dancers brushed tears away. Arms quietly embraced them. A muffled sob here and there. And again, looks that under other circumstances would have seemed surreptitious.

“I think it would be appropriate to dedicate our performance this weekend to Larry’s memory. I know it is a small thing, but it will be our best tribute.” Someone coughed. Lindy was getting the idea that not everybody in the camp was mourning Larry Cleveland, and it was only their respect for Marguerite that held them in an elegiac state of mind.

“And now please continue with your party, but remember, the rules we have are for your protection. Please, please regard them. We don’t want anything to happen to any of you.” She stepped off the platform, and people began to disperse. She stopped at a group that still lingered nearby. Two girls looked up, their faces brightening.

Marguerite touched them lightly on their backs and then moved toward another group.

Biddy and Lindy made their way back to where they had entered and looked over the crowd. Peter Dowd, the company’s stage manager, and Mieko stood at the edge of a group of students. In their midst, Rose Laughton moved her hands animatedly in the air, recounting some story that produced quiet laughter from the young dancers around her.

Rose was the company’s wardrobe mistress. She was large, loud, and intimidating; not beautiful, but striking in a Valkyrie way. She struck horror into anyone who abused their costumes and had a sense of humor that often left her peers open-mouthed.

Peter, tall and dark with black hair and forbidding brown eyes, stood uncomfortably on the fringe of the group. A whiz at all things technical, he was taciturn in the social sphere. When he had announced his New Year’s resolution of becoming more sociable, his statement was met with howls of laughter. If his idea of sociability meant hovering awkwardly at the edges of conversation, he was making a great start.

Lindy smiled. How someone that handsome could be so socially inept was ridiculous.

She turned from the group and her eye caught those of a boy standing in the shadows at the edge of the pavilion. His face was streaked with tears. She instinctively moved toward him. He disappeared into the darkness.

24

Midsummer Murder

“We’re going back to the house.” Jeremy was standing beside her, eyebrows knit together. This was not the homecoming he had expected.

Lindy touched his arm. “We just got here.” She fell silent when she realized that Robert was with him. He looked utterly exhausted. Thin lines framed his mouth. He rubbed one eye methodically with the back of his hand.

“We’ll go with you,” said Biddy. “We need to go over the schedule for tomorrow.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh.” Biddy looked taken aback, but she said nothing more.

“Shall we find Chi-Chi and tell her?” asked Lindy.

Robert darted his eyes in her direction. “Yes, would you?”

She nodded and led Biddy off to look for Chi-Chi’s bright dress among the crowd.

Chi-Chi nodded when they told her Robert and Jeremy had left, then hurried toward the path. Lindy and Biddy followed.

“Maybe we should leave them alone,” said Biddy. “Jeremy seemed to want to get away from us.”

“I think he’s just worried about Robert. He seems to be taking this rather too hard.”

They followed the others up the path toward the house. Chi-Chi had already caught up to Jeremy and Robert. They stood together briefly, then Chi-Chi took Robert’s arm. Jeremy took the other, and Lindy and Biddy were left to make their own way over the graveled walk.

From the edge of the woods, they watched the three go into the house, Chi-Chi supporting her husband as if he were an invalid. The door closed behind them.

“He sure seems dependent on his wife,” said Lindy.

“Maybe we should just sit here for a minute and then go to bed,”

said Biddy indicating one of the benches that were spaced strategically along the path.

“We should at least say good night to Marguerite and Ellis before we do.”

“We can wait for them here.” Biddy sat down and contemplated a winged statue of Mercury that stood on the other side of the path.

Lindy joined her. “Don’t be upset with Jeremy. You know he always gets totally involved with whatever is going on. He didn’t mean to be rude.”