CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
After getting up from her bed, Elaine tossed a very good book by Toni Morrison onto the pink spread. Heather was sitting in a chair by the door and painting her toenails. Betty must’ve been hogging the bathroom again, but that happened every night. She spent countless hours in the washroom each day, applying face creams and body conditioners, pomades and moisturizers, but to no avail. She always came out looking the same as she had before going in.
It was after eleven in the evening, and it was Elaine’s turn to make sure all of the doors and windows in the house were locked and secure. The alarm system also had to be activated. This task was accomplished every day between the hours of eleven and midnight, and she, Betty, and Heather were the ones responsible for seeing that it get done. Whoever killed Carl probably knew this, too, and that’s why he was attacked before eleven yesterday evening. Detective Connery had been quick to point this out, lending support to his argument that the killer was someone who’d been close to Carl, and who knew his and the entire household’s routine very well.
Elaine drew Heather’s attention when she stood up. “Your night tonight?” Heather asked, rubbing her nose and getting a smidgen of red polish on the tip of it. It made her look like a Hindu with a misplaced dot. Her large, watery blue eyes looked at everything with the innocence of a child. Not what anyone would call a beauty, with her pug nose and wide, flat cheeks and chin, and an uneven haircut that had obviously been done by an amateur, she was still a nice lady, all six feet of her. About as thin as a fair-sized arm, she was an Olive Oil of sorts, and her size-thirteen shoes protruded into wide open spaces like a clown’s would.
“Yes, it’s my turn to check the locks,” Elaine said, pausing at a wall mirror to fix her hair and straighten her collar. “You’ve got nail polish on your nose, Heather.”
“I ain’t puttin’ it on my nose!” she retorted. “I’m puttin’ it on my toes!”
“I’m not kidding,” Elaine said, glancing over her shoulder as she put on an apron. “Some polish got smeared on your nose accidentally.”
Heather wiped her nose with the palm of her hand and then examined the result. “I don’t see no polish. There’s none on my hand.” She raised it up so that Elaine could verify things.
“It’s still on your face. The polish must be dry.”
Staring at Elaine until her eyes crossed, she said, “Oh,” and then scratched at the tip of her nose with a fingernail. “Will you play cards with me when you get back? I like Uno.”
“I know you do, but it’s late. I only stayed up this long because it’s my night to lock up the house. We’ll play tomorrow night, all right?”
“Yeah, and maybe we can talk some other people into playing with us. I’d like that.”
“Me, too. Anyway, I’d better get going.”
“Yeah. I don’t want nobody coming back in to kill somebody else.” By now Heather’s nose was bright red, and not from the polish but from all the scratching.
“I’ll be back in a few,” Elaine said, turning to open the door.
“I’ll have the cards ready,” Heather said, holding them up.
“We’ll play tomorrow, all right?”
Heather checked her watch. “It’ll be tomorrow in fifty minutes.”
Elaine smiled wryly. There were times when Heather shined with the brilliance of a scholar. “Nice try,” she said, stepping into the hallway and descending the stairs to the kitchen.
Cameron was in the pantry and sipping a cup of coffee. Coffee was one of his vices. When she saw him, she shook her finger at him scoldingly. “You’re going to regret that,” she said. “Caffeine at this time of night?” She gave him a playful tsk, tsk, tsk!
“Decaffeinated,” he said, raising the cup to her before taking another sip. “This is proof that I’ve learned a lot from you.”
Now that brought a smile to her face. “Did you see your boys today?”
“I sure did. Unfortunately, I had to see my ex-wife, too.”
“Did Sheila give you a hard time?”
“Always,” he said, sitting down at a small table. He seemed tired; the five o’clock shadow on his face was so thick, it would’ve made a teenager proud to call it a month’s growth. “I’m responsible for every rotten thing that’s ever happened in our lives. Don’t you know that?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t feel….”
“That’s right, she doesn’t,” he interrupted, and Elaine laughed when she understood the bite of sarcasm.
“You’re so bad.”
“That’s right, I am. And that means I need something good in my life, Elaine.”
Hesitating, she tried to size up his intentions. She decided that they were as sweet as he could be whenever his ex-wife or Carl Kastenmeier weren’t trying to pounce on him. “You deserve to be happy,” she said, giving him the kind of compassionate look he craved.
“I could be happy with you.”
“I feel the same way about you.” She paused, growing uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’ve got to lock up for the night.”
“Locking all the criminals in, are you?” he asked, grinning.
Despite being familiar with his brand of humor, just considering that to be true alarmed her. “Gee, I hope not. The way the police are swarming, they certainly believe that the killer is here amongst us, don’t they?”
“I don’t know about them, but I sure as hell do,” he said. “Do you need any help securing the doors and windows?”
“No, I can handle it.”
“Well then,” he said, “I’ll probably be in bed before you get back.”
“All right. See you tomorrow.”
He raised his mug to her again before swallowing the last of his coffee. Thick spots of day-old hair covered his cheeks and chin like polka dots.
Elaine went to the foyer, turned on the newel-post lamp, which had been carved to resemble a draped lady holding a torch, and then ascended the stairway. Breezing past the marbleized fresco paper on the walls and the dark walnut wainscoting, Elaine held onto the scrolled railings all the way to the top. It was a healthy flight of stairs, but she’d gotten good at getting to the top of them in record time. Besides, she could always use the exercise.
The routine of securing the house was best begun by working from the upstairs and going down. Carl’s office area was off limits, eliminating five rooms from the tally, and that was all right by her. Things were moving along well until she knocked on the master bedroom door.
“Yes?” a soft voice said from inside.
“It’s Elaine, ma’am. I’m locking up for the night.”
After an unreasonably long period of time, Lois finally said, “Come in.”
Elaine opened the door a crack, her eyes falling on the woman of the house sitting on the edge of a huge, Renaissance-style bed and looking quite dejected.
“Are your windows locked, ma’am?” Elaine asked her.
“It’s your job to check them, isn’t it?” she snapped.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, making a beeline straight for the nearest window. She went to each one, finding them all locked and secure. All the while, Lois watched her as a spider would watch a fly. Elaine slipped into the bathroom and then a small sitting room and checked the windows as fast as she could.
Lois had her waxed, hardwood dance floor and her practice barre set up as if she’d been executing ballet moves. A pretty pink tutu was draped over an elegant ebonized chair next to the floor. It was common knowledge that she’d been the leader of a ballet troupe that was touring the country when she got pregnant with Silas, forcing her to leave the production and give the starring role to her understudy. Elaine had heard that Carl thought that ending Lois’s career that way was funny.
“Everything’s fine, ma’am,” Elaine said as cheerfully as she could. “Good night.” Trying to get to the door and leave fast, she didn’t even come close to making it.
“Would you draw my bath, please,” Lois said, clutching an oriental lady’s
fan in one hand and a satin chemise in the other. She sat on top of that bed like an empress would on a throne. The nine-foot walnut and walnut burl backboard loomed above and behind her, making her appear lost in her own special-ordered excess. Raised and set back into a massive alcove, the entire side of the room housing the bed and its related furnishings was accentuated by a white marble fireplace and a red, L-shaped divan. A suede-covered copy of Moby Dick lay at the foot of it.
“I need to freshen up after this dreadful day,” Lois said, staring down that narrow nose of hers, “so I’d appreciate it if you’d get started. Put lavender oil in the water, please. It softens my skin.” The request was rather unorthodox, never before coming at such a late hour, but then again, Carl never would’ve allowed her to stay up this long.
“Yes, ma’am,” Elaine said, coming back inside the room and closing the door behind her as Lois stepped behind a beautifully decorated privacy screen to take off her clothes.
Elaine went into the master bathroom and switched on the lights. She always marveled at the flamboyance of the room’s decor: marble floors, countertop, tub, and toilet; china basins decorated with shrewdly authentic replicas of floral arrangements by Japanese masters; the dove gray head of a bird supporting the seat of the commode and a raised bathtub with feet resembling the talons of an eagle; and elaborate, stained-glass windows of landscape scenes and wildlife on every outside wall. Gilt mirrors and gleaming gold wall sconces were abundant, smartly highlighting the tiled areas and matching dado, and the richly colored wallpaper. There was even a gray marble fireplace near a sitting area in the spacious room. A tall sewing basket was in a corner close to a wooden rocker and footstool.
As Elaine started the water running in the tub and tested the temperature of it with her hand, Lois came into the bathroom wearing a purple velvet robe. The sash was tied tight around her small waist. She paused to watch Elaine from over her shoulder as she worked. “Don’t forget the bath oil,” she said, lifting her nose even higher. Elaine picked up a bottle of oil from the counter and unscrewed the top.
“No, no, not that one,” Lois said, her patience waning. “This is what I want.” Taking a bottle from a small shelf filled with pomades, perfume flagons, and the like, she pushed it into Elaine’s hands. Then she snatched the other one away and tossed it back up on the counter. The bottle toppled over, spilling oil on a dresser set, silver pillboxes, and shaving accessories because the lid wasn’t on tight.
“Now look what you’ve made me do!” Lois said. “You’ll have to clean that up before I bathe.” She scrutinized the tub again. “Four capfuls of oil, and I want the water six inches from the top.” Casting a critical gaze at Elaine, she asked, “You do know how much six inches is, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good because if it isn’t right, I’ll call you back in to do it again.”
Elaine nodded; with a threat like that, she considered getting a ruler out just to be sure.
“Put the oil in now so that it has time to be agitated by the water!” Lois’s temper was short. An angry woman was a terrible thing to deal with, and yet there Elaine stood, taking the full brunt of the blast and without an ally in sight. Why the bath was so important to Lois was a mystery; she already smelled great. Terrorizing laborers must have been her new favorite pastime since her husband had vacated the position.
Elaine’s hands trembled as she unscrewed the top and measured four capfuls; she couldn’t do anything right. One cap overflowed, but at least Lois didn’t notice. Steam was rising thick from the water, masking any imperfections in the job she was doing.
Taking a sponge out from under the sink, Elaine dipped it into the spilled oil and then rinsed and rung it out over the nearest basin. Wiping the counter with the wet sponge, she was extremely careful not to bump any of Lois’s magnificent, silver antique compacts and potpourri boxes. She also made sure there was no oil left on the surface as if her job depended on it. Lois stood just twelve inches away, trying desperately to catch her doing something else wrong. When Elaine finished cleaning the counter and shut off the water, Lois stood back and examined her work.
“Will there be anything else, Mrs. Kastenmeier?”
“Drape lace over that light fixture above your head. You don’t expect me to look in the mirrors without softening the light first, do you?”
“No, ma’am,” Elaine said, grabbing a swatch of crocheted lace and a stool. Although standing on the stool added about three feet to her height, she still had to stretch way up with the lace as it dangled from both hands. The ceiling was so tall, she could barely reach the light even though it was hanging from an eighteen-inch cord, but thankfully she managed to ease the cloth over the globe.
Climbing down and replacing the stool, Elaine wiped her sweaty palms off onto her apron and smiled politely. “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”
Lois’s bitter disposition was obvious, and she stared at Elaine as if she hated her. It was an odd, almost immediate transformation from tolerant to easily provoked, and Elaine didn’t understand the root of her hostility. All she wanted to do was get the hell out of there and the sooner, the better.
“Tell your friend Tasia I said goodnight,” Lois said, her dark blue eyes narrowing. “Now get out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elaine backed out of the bathroom and took what seemed like a millennium to walk from one end of the bedroom to the door, and then closed it softly behind her. Afterward, she paused to lean against it, resting her head against the cool, mahogany frame. Closing her eyes with a sigh, she thanked God she made it out alive.
“Elaine,” a small, familiar voice called, so she opened her eyes and stood away from the door. Silas was down the hall and standing just outside his room. He wore a pair of light blue pajamas but no robe. His feet were sockless and without slippers. The thick, copper-colored wallpaper behind him was glazed, therefore accentuating its high relief. It engulfed him as the waves of an ocean would engulf someone who didn’t know how to swim.
“May I speak with you?” he said. “It won’t take long.”
“Of course,” she said, walking over and then following him inside his bedroom.