Amateur Hour

Lisa felt sick with anxiety, when they pulled into the yard. It was dispelled a little, by the appearance of the two dogs, trotting around the side of the house. She hunkered down and hugged Gil, until he squirmed, and snuffled one side of her hair out of place and dislodged her earmuffs. When she released him, Tuck seized her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Stop stalling,” he said, and led her to the steps and onto the porch. At the door he stopped, and gestured toward the knob.

Lisa turned it, and walked in. Will greeted them with with his usual ease, though his eyes were filled with hilarity. The scent of bacon told her where Toni was. Lisa bit the bullet, and went to the kitchen, where she found Tuck’s daughter, the lynchpin of the Rawlings family, singing along with the radio, and scrambling eggs.

At the sight of Lisa, Toni turned down the fire under the eggs, and faced her.

“Well, let’s see it,” she demanded, with a big smile.

Lisa held out her left hand, mutely. Toni let out a silent squeal, then kissed her hand.

“It fits, so well!” she exclaimed. “I tried it on, and I told Dad I didn’t think he’d have to resize it. Your hands and feet are the same as mine.”

“It’s perfect,” Lisa dared to smile. She thought about asking Toni if she should set the table. Then, she simply got out the plates and utensils, and set it. When she glanced back at Toni, the younger woman was wearing a pleased little smirk.

“Please tell me you haven’t eaten,” she said.

“Does a donut count?”

“Nope.”

Lisa dropped four slices of bread into the toaster, and set out the butter that was on the counter—goat and cow. When the first batch was done, she dropped in the second. She was stacking toast onto a plate when Will entered with a bottle of champagne in a bucket, which had evidently been stashed in the goat kitchen fridge. Tuck was hot on his heels with two flutes in each hand. He nearly stumbled over Gil.

“If you break those…” Toni said.

“I bought ‘em, I know,” Tuck replied, laughing. “Come to think of it, I bought ‘em to begin with.”

They were soon gathered around the table. Food was eaten; toasts were drunk—Will proposed several ridiculous ones, to offset those more heartfelt. By the time the meal was finished, Lisa felt a bit inebriated, but she also felt welcomed.

***************************

The cold air was just the thing to clear the warm cobwebs of a champagne breakfast, Lisa thought, as she trotted alongside Tuck, on Luna. They slowed to a walk, when they neared the summit of the hill.

“What did you have to tell me?” she asked him, remembering his words at the motel.

“Other than that I’m crazy about you?” he smiled. “It’s not a lot. Just that Gerald granted me an audience, yesterday, while I was waiting in the church for you and Will to finish up.”

“Did he say anything interesting?”

“Does he ever not say anything interesting? He told me some things that blew my mind, actually. It seems that Noah wasn’t a bad kid, for starters. He got that way, after being more or less overlooked by Gerald’s father, who favored Jeremiah. It solidified, when old Lovejoy died, and the favored brother defected to the Union side of the conflict. Gerald said that Noah wouldn’t listen to advice, or obey him, as head of the family. It broke him, I guess.”

“Sad, but not really mind blowing.”

“No. No, the mind blowing part is coming up. After Beatrice married Noah, she and Gerald carried out a longstanding affair.”

“That’s… pretty scandalous, for sure. Hard to blame them, though. They were meant for each other, Tuck. They were cheated out of the life they should have had, together. Beatrice should have had Gerald’s children, not—“

“Ah, but she did.”

Lisa pulled Luna to a stop. They were on the path leading through the wooded area between the top of the hill and the Old Road, now. Tuck was several lengths ahead of her, before he realized that she was no longer behind him. He reined Buckshot into a neat pivot, and waited for her to catch up, wearing a small, ironic smile, at her incredulous stare.

Luna was becoming so responsive now, that she barely had to squeeze her legs, to put her into motion again. Will was doing excellent work, with the mare.

“Say again?” she requested, when they caught up.

“Beatrice’s sons were Gerald’s, too.”

“The Judge actually admitted that? To you, of all people?”

“Why not, to me?” he looked surprised by the question.

“I’m not sure I would want any of my descendants having all the dirt on me,” she replied. “I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t tell them, myself.”

“Ah…Well, no.” He turned Buckshot back toward the Old Road, and they continued on.

“You’re confusing me, Deputy.”

“Hang on, until we can ride abreast again. It’s easier to talk, that way.”

In a few minutes, when they were again riding side by side, he resumed. “I didn’t get that part of the tale from the Judge. It came from Noah. Only, that conversation was…in my head, I guess. You know what I’m talking about. A mental voice that isn’t your own.”

Lisa nodded. To anyone else, this might sound like an impending mental breakdown, but she’d experienced it, herself. “When? When you were in the rectory?”

“No.” He sighed. “The other night, while you were at your class. But, we’re straying from the topic. That wasn’t all Noah told me. He also insinuated that he killed Beatrice for it.”

“Good Lord! What a filthy piece of work he was. I have all the sympathy in the world for the Judge’s second wife. She didn’t ask for any of this crap—I hope she never found out. I admit Noah was wronged, but, to kill his wife, after marrying her for spite… Yet, it’s impossible for me to blame Gerald and Beatrice.”

“Margaret knew. Gerald did tell me that.”

“Oh—this gets worse and worse. Tell me she wasn’t involved in killing Beatrice, then Gerald, too.”

“Is your mind blown yet, Darlin’, or shall I go on?”

“There’s more?”

“Only a little. According to Gerald, he and Margaret and Beatrice had a unique relationship. To paraphrase his words, the three of them had no secrets from one another. Evidently, Beatrice and Margaret were very close. Beatrice introduced Margaret to Gerald.”

“As in: If I can’t have him, I’ll choose a placeholder, for myself?”

“I don’t think so. I think he genuinely loved them, both. He and Margaret had a boatload of children, themselves, remember. He speaks of her, with a kind of affection that can’t be faked.”

“Well… don’t get any ideas of ever doing anything similar, Deputy.”

“I value my skin, too much,” he grinned. “But, no. Margaret wasn’t complicit in Noah’s murders. Not the ones he committed, anyway. Gerald hinted that she was responsible, at least in part, for the body in your cellar, though.”

“Go, Margaret… I guess. Is that all? Because, my mind is blown, now.”

“That’s all.”

“Why didn’t you mention the conversation with Noah?”

“Partly because there hasn’t been much time. Partly because I’ve had other things on my mind. I wouldn’t have kept it from you, honey. It wasn’t very important, at the time. Just Noah being an ass. Taunting, planting doubts, the stuff he usually does.”

“That’s all, then? Just words?”

“Just words. I don’t think he can actually move me around, that far away from the rectory. There’s more danger of that, right here, frankly.”

“I’m ready for him.” Lisa patted her right jacket pocket. Lisa, however, was left handed. Tuck knew that, but Noah didn’t—she hoped.

“Good girl. I’m glad Will remembered to get another can, for you.” He gave her a barely perceptible nod to show that he understood. “Buckshot—“ He tapped his mount twice, with his heels, and put her into a canter.

Lisa held Luna to a walk. Even she knew it wasn’t a good idea to let her horse get into ‘monkey see, monkey do’ mode. Luna didn’t like it, but she settled. It was only after this that Lisa urged her to more speed. It didn’t take long to catch up to Tuck, where he was waiting by the entrance to the Lovejoy drive.

“Nice,” he nodded, approving. “Did she fight you?”

“Tossed her head a little. I waited until she was done, before I gave her the green light.” She patted Luna’s neck.

“Very good. Never forget that you’re the boss.”

With the sun shining through the leaves, the drive wasn’t as forbidding as it had been, the first time they had visited. Luna still didn’t care for the leaves swirling occasionally around her feet, as evidenced by a subtle twitch, now and then. Buckshot ignored them.

“She’ll get used to things going on, around her feet,” Tuck commented, as if reading Lisa’s mind. “She’s young, yet. She’s already used to having them handled, by people.”

The house, like the drive, appeared much friendlier, in the sunshine. They paused in front of it, then rode the horses around it.

“It’s much bigger than it looks, from the front,” Lisa observed.

“Deeper. I wouldn’t have guessed it, either. The Victorian look is only skin deep. A little disappointing. I expected a full veranda.”

“It has a back porch, though. A good sized one.”

“That was more for utility than entertaining. Check that out—“ he nodded toward a low brick building, with a suggestion of a tin roof, rotted through with rust. There were traces of a board walk between it and the main house. “Separate kitchen. Brick wouldn’t burn, but I’ll bet it was like a literal oven, to work in.” He shook his head.

“Not quite that bad. There’s a door at each end, and windows down both sides, for ventilation,” she heard herself say.

Tuck stared at her. He climbed off Buckshot, handed Lisa one of his reins, and walked closer to investigate.

“Tuck—“ she called, as he forced the door open enough to enter the building. She damned herself silently, for having made the comment. What had it been based on? She could see nothing of the kind, from where she sat. “Tucker!” she bellowed, when he had been gone too long, for her comfort.

He appeared, instantly. “I’m okay, honey. Relax.” He approached her, looking amused. “You stopped just short of middle naming me again, didn’t you?” he joked. “I don’t know how you knew, but you’re exactly right. It was all set up to make the most of any cross breezes. Too bad the elements and animals have had their way with it, over the years. It looks like it was very efficient.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“It was worth it, to hear you call me Tucker. Sounds sexy, when you say it. Let’s go back around.”

He didn’t remount, but led Buckshot, instead. They passed a well, coming around the other side, and of course no earthly force would keep him from peering down into it, and finding a good sized stone to drop in. The muted splash was a surprise.

“Come away from there,” she commanded with exasperation.

“You’re no fun,” he accuse her, with a boyish grin. “All right… Bossy Boots,” he added.

Back at the front again, Tuck spotted a hitching rail, tested it, then tied Buckshot to it. He was on the front steps, before she could say anything.

“I am not going in there,” she warned him.

“You don’t have to. Hop down and stretch your legs. I just want to have a peek.”

As she did so, he rubbed some dirt away from the glass of the window closest to the door, and peered in.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he glanced at her, over his shoulder. “But, there’s still furniture in there, under dust covers. Come have a look. The porch is sound enough, where there are still boards.”

“How very reassuring,” she scoffed. Still, she was curious. There were boards missing, on the porch, but he was right, the ones that remained seemed firm, if a bit creaky. Tuck stepped aside, to let her see into the window, resting his right hand on her back. The pieces were few, and large, for the most part.

“Too much effort to move, I imagine,” Tuck remarked, reading her mind again. “Too big for whatever house they moved to, maybe.”

“Too large and too vulgar.”

“You have X-ray vision, now? You can see through dust covers?” he sounded amused, but when glanced him, he didn’t look amused. He looked uneasy.

“No. I’ve always been too imaginative, for my own good,” she smiled. “That’s how Liam managed to scare me, every time the power went out, even during the day. You know, one time he had me half convinced it was because we had used up all the coal in the world?” she shook her head still smiling.

“What are you imagining it looks like, inside?”

“Please. I’ve seen enough period pieces. I could tell you what it looks like, based on that, alone. That settee is covered in velvet. Probably red. Looks like something straight out of a house of ill repute. Gerald liked it, Margaret hated it. He probably liked bold colors, in general. Her taste was more subtle, but white was as bad as red—worse, maybe, because it showed dirt. The children had to be kept out of the front rooms. They were for company. It was all the norm for the time period, and the style of people they were.”

“Anything else?” he challenged.

“Yes. The ‘company’ side of the house is like the Victorian facade. Skin deep. The real, family living all took place toward the back of the house. The rooms were less elegant, but friendlier. The furniture was sturdy, a bit scuffed, with a vague stain, here and there that defied all efforts at removal. Rugs and carpets were more worn. It was clean and comfortable. And, there were several glass doorknobs. Very avant-garde, for the period.”

“Based on these movies you’ve seen, and books you’ve read.”

“It’s not a magic trick, Deputy—it’s just logic.” She scowled at him, feeling unaccountably defensive.

“Uh-huh. What logic leads you to avant-garde doorknobs?”

“Just the Judge telling me once that he had a fascination for innovations. A flight of fancy—that’s all.”

“Well, now I have to go in. I have to find at least one glass doorknob.”

“Please—don’t.”

“You can stay, Darlin’. You don’t have to go in.”

She did, though. That was the thing—she did.

Tuck studied her face, not liking the changes he saw there. The slight flush from the champagne was gone, as was any color whipped up by the cold air. She was pale, and her eyes had taken on a brightness that looked feverish.

“Do you feel okay, Lisa?”

“I’m a little cold, is all. I just don’t feel like playing Nancy Drew, I guess.”

The way she stared at the door belied her words. As curious as Tuck was, something told him she was more so. The mixed messages were confusing, to say the least.

“The door is probably locked, anyway,” he shrugged. “I’m not about to break a window to get in, and leave it open to every bird and squirrel in the county.” He reached for the knob. It gave, a quarter of a turn, and stopped. “Yep. Locked.” He turned to try the window, which wouldn’t budge, either. “Looks like I’m out of luck. I wonder if that lock could be—“

A soft click made him wheel around. The door drifted open, creaking on hinges that hadn’t been oiled in decades.

“How did you—?”

“It wasn’t locked. Maybe you just didn’t use turn the knob hard enough,” Lisa shrugged.

But, he knew he had applied reasonable force.

“Or, maybe you really should join Mandy’s coven,” he joked. He reached past her to try the knob, for himself. It turned freely, in his hand. Smoothly, too, with no grinding or squeaking. “Well– after you, Nancy Drew,” he invited her with a nod and an outstretched hand.

Lisa reached into her right pocket, and pulled out a mini flashlight, and turned it on. Tuck followed suit. The light inside wasn’t quite dark, but it was dim, and Tuck left the door open, to allow more natural light in.

“Better let me go first, from here,” he advised, when they were past the threshold. Lisa nodded, and pulled a tiny occasional table over to block open the door. “Good thinking,” he nodded. “Wonder why that’s still here.”

“It’s a nothing. Easily replaced, I suppose. Have you ever seen such dust? Even the church wasn’t this bad.”

“The church is newer. We’ll try not to stir up too much of it. Although…” He moved carefully toward the settee, under its burden of a grey dust cloth, sounding the floor with his boots, as he went. “I just have to have a peek, at this.”

Gingerly, he pulled the cover back from the old piece of furniture. Grey dust had caked on the cloth, and he tried to disturb it, as little as possible. The red velvet of the arm was revealed, tacked to the rosewood frame of the piece. The cover had done its job well— the nap of the upholstery wasn’t pristine, but it was close. A once-over with a hand vacuum would probably restore it.

“Horrendous,” Lisa chuckled, at his back.

Tuck settled the cloth gently back into place. “What about that one? He asked, nodding toward another large covered piece.

“A chair, obviously.”

“Obviously. I just wonder if it’s also upholstered in red velvet.”

“No. It’s an overstuffed chair, so most likely leather. Probably brown. Black would be too sharp a contrast to the red.”

Tuck crossed to the chair, and cautiously lifted the cover. Brown leather.

“He wanted black, but she said no…” Lisa murmured.

“What?” His tone was sharp.

“What?” She looked slightly confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You said, ‘he wanted black, but she said no’,”

“I did not. Is Noah talking to you, again?”

For an irrational instant, Tuck wondered if she was gaslighting him. But, no—Lisa had the look of someone who was nervous, and trying not to show it.

“No,” he said, in a gentler tone. “Maybe my imagination is running wild. It’s okay, honey.” He offered her a smile, and she nodded, but her eyes were troubled.

Tuck was troubled, himself. He wasn’t afraid of Lisa, but for her.

They continued to explore the old house, which turned out to be a warren of hallways, tiny rooms, vast rooms, closets, pantries—all on the ground floor. They found odds and ends of furniture and possessions scattered about, looking abandoned and forlorn in otherwise empty rooms. Tuck began to notice a preponderance of candlestick holders, with curved handles. Some were made of brass, others of pewter and copper.

“Why do you think there are so many of these?” he asked, after encountering the seventh or eighth one.

“They moved to someplace with electric lights. Didn’t need candle holders, anymore. These are just the common, everyday holders the family used. They took the nicer candlesticks, of course. The ones that would have graced the dining table, for example, and were made of silver. The fancy ones.”

So many left behind, and they spared not one, for me, in my box.

Tuck felt the bitterness and hatred so keenly and so suddenly, he gasped. The violent urge to hurl the pewter candle holder at Lisa’s head…

Her smug, know-it-all head. She really does have all the answers, doesn’t she? Ask yourself how, Tucker—How does she know every little thing?

… sickened him. He fumbled and dropped the holder. It thumped to the floor, and he bent to pick it up. He hesitated. Was it safe, to pick it up?

“Tuck? Are you all right?” Her voice had risen, slightly, in pitch. It was grating to his ears.

Lisa started toward him, but he threw up a hand, turned his head aside, and closed his eyes.

“Back away, Lisa,” he managed. “Back away.”

“Tuck—“ She sounded damned near hysterical.

“Goddammit! Back off!” he roared. He felt his head snap up. Felt his eyes focus on her, keen as daggers. Saw the pistol in her hand. Felt the ball rip through his leg, before he heard the report. Heard a second report, then heard nothing else.