The Death of Perry Many Paws (50 page)

“Is that dreadful Kelly boy still working here? I think I see him sneaking around,” Claudia interrupted. Sure enough, Ryan Kelly, the step-son of my best friend, Grace, was refilling water glasses and glancing furtively our way. Ryan and I weren’t on very friendly terms since an incident last fall when he broke into my house and nearly scared me to death. He had been given probation and community service at Bugg Hill Senior Home. He must have some redeeming qualities because Bugg Hill offered him a part-time job when his community service was over.

Abbey nodded her head, her long curls catching the light. Although she looked like me, she had her father’s beautiful red curly hair and freckles. Claudia had considered Cam quite an aberration when he had been born a red head. She was more accepting of Abbey.

“Ryan’s not really dreadful, grandma, just sort of odd. The residents here seem to like him.”

Before Claudia could launch into a tirade against Ryan, I changed the subject. “I don’t see Muriel here today. She’s not ill is she?”

“It’s Wednesday, Mom. The last few Wednesdays she and the other ladies in the knitting group have skipped lunch. I’m not sure why.”

That was a real oddity. If Maude Bellamy had a face that could benefit greatly by darkness then Muriel Wilson had a body that could benefit greatly by a decade of skipped lunches. I couldn’t imagine what would keep Muriel away from her lunch. I love to knit but not at the cost of a good meal and I was a third Muriel’s size.

“What
is
this?” Claudia demanded, timidly poking at her entre.

“Macaroni and cheese,” Abbey answered. “It’s pretty much a staple here. The most popular dish they serve …”

“I don’t know about this …”

“Try it grandma, it’s good.” Abbey turned to me and I expected her to roll her eyes, but then remembered that she adored her grandmother. Abbey and Cam both seemed totally oblivious to how frustrating and annoying Claudia could be. Luckily, I was aware enough for the three of us. “I know you like a mystery, mom. This whole absent-every-Wednesday-lunch by the knitting group is just weird. They used to meet and knit right outside the door every Wednesday so they could be the first ones into the dining room. Now they don’t show up at all.”

“Did you ask any of them about it?”

“Yes. I asked Ivy Davis and she just gave me this Mona Lisa smile. Same with Trudy Mills and Agatha Whitney. When I asked Muriel she just made this grimace and said, “There’s no accounting for tastes.” The other three seemed sort of spacey and Muriel seemed disgusted. It’s very weird.”

Claudia pushed her macaroni and cheese around on her plate but I don’t think she ever ate any before she pushed the plate away. “Maybe they don’t like the food.”

“I don’t think that’s it, grandma. At the risk of being unkind, all the ladies in the knitting group cannot get on the elevator at the same time or it exceeds the weight limit …”

“You mean four of them weigh over 1500 pounds?”

“No, seven of them do. In addition to the four I mentioned there’s also Enid Doyle, Thelma Harrington …”

“Diane’s mother …” I interrupted.

“And Millie Knapp, your old housekeeper, Grandma.”

Claudia daintily patted her lips. “Mrs. Knapp? Really? This isn’t Ashland Belle but I can’t imagine how Mrs. Knapp can afford to live here. She was just a housekeeper. And she didn’t have any family.”

Abbey glanced over at me. I shrugged. “Dad pays her bills.”

“Since when?” Claudia asked with great indignation. “Tamsen, did you know Cam was paying her bills? Why would he do that? She was just a housekeeper when he was growing up. I’m surprised he even noticed her. This is very disturbing.”

“Why is it disturbing, Grandma?”

Claudia reached out and patted Abbey’s hand. “You don’t know what you are talking about dear. You’re too young to understand what is appropriate and what isn’t …”

“That’s not true, Grandma. I’m almost nineteen years old …”

“Quiet dear. You’re too young to understand what you don’t understand.” Claudia smiled indulgently at Abbey then turned to me with a cold stony glare. Jekyll and Hyde. “Explain Tamsen.”

I was longing to tell her that rather than being oblivious of Mrs. Knapp slaving away in the kitchen of Claudia’s enormous monstrosity of a house, Cam had considered Mrs. Knapp a surrogate mother.
Claudia had tired of the whole mothering experience by the time Cam was born six years after his sister Cassandra. Claudia had taken one look at him with his red hair and very un-Behrends like features and emotionally shooed him away. If it weren’t for the attention of his father, now deceased, and Mrs. Knapp, Cam would have been a much neglected child. Mrs. Knapp taught him to cook, made sure he had his homework done, proofread his papers, kept track of doctor appointments and made sure his father attended every baseball game and track meet. She even helped Cam fill out his college applications. While Cam loved his mother, he felt a deep and abiding affection for Mrs. Knapp. When her savings ran out Cam stepped in and took over her daily finances. He even paid for her sister, which apparently Claudia had no idea existed, to come to Birdsey Falls twice a year to visit her. But I didn’t want to go into all of that with Claudia right now. Or ever.

“There’s nothing to explain, Claudia. Cam and I can do what we please with our money. We choose to help out Mrs. Knapp as she is a long time friend of the family …”

“She was the
housekeeper
. It’s not as if I didn’t pay her. Are you going to support the postman and the newspaper delivery boy for the rest of their lives also? How about that homely checkout girl at the grocery store? Or that boy with all the jewelry stuck to his face at the gas station?”

We were saved from the rest of Claudia’s rant by the arrival of Ted Harrington, my friend Diane’s father and current resident of Bugg Hill. I’ve never met a plainer, more non-descript man than Ted Harrington. He literally blends into his surroundings. He would have made a great spy. Ted was outgoing and happy, especially on macaroni and cheese days, but today he wandered to our table and, after giving us a distracted greeting, just stared at the wall. I could tell Claudia was deeply offended. She expected to be fawned over especially as she was
not a regular at Bugg Hill. I reached over and squeezed Ted’s wrinkled hand.

“What’s wrong? You’re not eating your mac and cheese. Do you feel all right?”

Ted gave me a weak smile and patted my hand. “I’m worried about Thelma. Something strange is going on. She and her knitting friends are up to something. And she won’t tell me what it is. We’ve never had secrets before. Yup. Something strange.”

“They stopped eating lunch on Wednesdays. Maybe they’re working on a special project,” Abbey offered. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thelma’s been acting strange …”

“In what way?” I asked. Ted’s face got red and he glanced uneasily at Abbey and Claudia. “Well …”

“Go on. You’ll feel better if you talk about it,” I said.

“It’s just that lately, um, well, lately she’s been, you know.”

Abbey and I looked at each other and shrugged. I glanced at Claudia. She was staring intently at her hand, waving it back and forth to watch the sun reflect off her diamond. Ted leaned in closer to Abbey and me and cleared his throat.

“She’s been frisky.”

“Frisky?” I wasn’t sure he and I were thinking the same thing. Did he mean she just had more energy?

“I don’t mind, you know, her being frisky and all. But sometimes she gets frisky after seven o’clock and I just can’t handle those late nights. I’m in my 70’s you know. I don’t understand how knitting through lunch on Wednesday afternoons makes a lady frisky that evening. But it happens every Wednesday. And, for the last two weeks she hasn’t even taken her knitting with her. Something’s going on.”

“I think you’re right.” I said. “Someone needs to infiltrate the Wednesday knitting group.”