I’m going to lie down for a while. I’m suddenly very tired.”
“Of course, Mother. Will you be okay?”
She nodded her head and walked slowly back to the house. Cassie ran ahead of her and opened the screen door to the porch. She gave her grandmother a swift embrace and ran off toward the lane that led to the back field.
I sat alone on the sunny afternoon patio with my thoughts whirling. Maybe a nap was the best thing when your brain was on overload. But I knew I could never sleep. Who would have ever suspected something like this? Certainly none of us could have imagined it, not in a million, not in three million years. That would be a year for every dollar. Wow! I thought, that is a lot of money. How does a man get that kind of money? Especially a man like William who was so quiet and unassuming. He had only held one job. He had never traveled outside of the state. When his parents went to visit relatives in Germany, William was in school and declined the invitation to accompany them.
That must have been it! He must have inherited a good deal of the money from his parents. I had heard him tell stories about his father, a good stout German who had come to Louisville with his family in the 1800s.
His grandfather was a successful merchant who opened several dry goods stores. When William’s father decided to strike out on his own, he had purchased a barge and gone down the river selling whatever the farmers needed. After meeting a Scottish farmer’s pretty daughter, he married her and settled down. The small coalmining town where they lived had neither dry goods store nor bank. He furnished both for the next few decades.
According to what I could remember of William’s stories, it was his mother’s thrift as well as his father’s success at making money that made their life so comfortable. She had sustained them during difficult times, most notably when the bank went under during the depression.
William had grown up in that little mining town, and when he showed no real talent for merchandising, his father sent him to school to study bookkeeping. He came back and worked for the bank for the rest of his life.
Ernest Dibber was the young man William trained to replace him at the bank when he retired. Dibber was a tax specialist, too. He’d probably prepared William’s taxes: the only other person in the world to know how much money William really had. My neck started to prickle as the hairs stood on end. There was something really wrong here!
I heard the screen door slam shut and looked up to see Mother coming back outside. She looked more disheveled than I had ever seen her and more distraught than I thought possible.
She knelt in front of me and clasped my hands tightly in her cold fingers.
“Paisley,” she whispered hoarsely. “Paisley, don’t you see? Ernest Dibber was the only person who knew about William’s money. Now that money is all his. I think he coerced William into writing that will and then murdered him! Maybe, he even.…”
I managed to cushion her head from the hard concrete as she sank slowly and gracefully down in a dead faint.
Chapter Four
Mother’s regular physician, Ed Baxter, was recovering from open heart surgery, and the only other doctor in town, a younger man named Winston Wallace, was taking his calls. I explained my concerns about Mother to his nurse, and the doctor came out within the hour. After staring much too long at Cassie as she returned from her walk in the field, her tee shirt clinging with sweat, he allowed himself to be hustled into Mother’s bedroom.
She sat propped up in her bed wearing a soft lavender cashmere bed jacket. Her face was very pale but she had managed to comb her hair and make herself presentable. She held her chin up and smiled, knowing that everything that happened here would be gossip in town tomorrow.
Mother was angry at me for calling the doctor, but at the same time I could tell she was a little frightened and needed some reassurance that all was physically well.
I have to admit that Dr. Wallace seemed to know his business even though I could not stand his condescending manner. He gave Mother a quick but professional examination. Her heart, blood pressure and pulse were all checked and pronounced to be normal. Then he sat beside her for awhile talking softly and asking her questions about her health. After a few minutes, he patted her hand and stood up. He carefully adjusted his jacket and then his trouser pleats. I’m sure he thought, as he preened in front of us, that he was a handsome figure of a man. His clothes were obviously expensive but just this side of flash instead of class. A shiny, gold Rolex hung grandly large on his right wrist and a heavy gold bracelet banded the left. I tried to see if he had a real suntan or used makeup on his smooth, round, face but I didn’t want to get any closer. His aftershave was overpowering.
“You’re doing just fine, Mrs. Sterling,” he pronounced. “I can understand your having a delayed reaction to your cousin’s death. You’re such a tower of strength for your family. Dear lady, you need time to do your own grieving. Your granddaughter certainly seems to be healthy enough, as well as your daughter. Let them take care of you for a while. I’m going to prescribe a mild sedative which I urge you to take tonight and at least for the rest of the week.” He waggled his finger at her. “Now quit shaking your pretty little head.”
I knew she hated that as much as she hated being talked down to. Poor Dr. Wallace didn’t know he was cutting his own throat. This was, no doubt, the last time he would be seeing my mother in a professional capacity.
“No one wants to take medicine but sometimes we need it. You must get some rest. Let your little chickens take care of you for a change.”
He smiled pontifically and beamed in my direction. I wanted to go for his throat but I settled for the prescription he held out instead.
Mother thanked him weakly. She was playing Camille to the hilt, and I began to regret that I had ever summoned medical advice. But she only played roles from a position of strength. He had reassured her that her heart was still pumping and all was well. She was feeling better already. God help us for the next few days! The good doctor had given her a mighty weapon: Camille was here to stay.
I decided to have the pharmacy deliver the sedative instead of taking time to shower, change, and drive downtown for it. I needed some rest and quiet, too.
I got rid of Dr. Wallace and paid off the delivery boy at almost the same time. Mother took the pills in a limp hand. She made quite a show of having trouble swallowing them, but she did snuggle back in her pillows and get comfortable almost immediately falling into a deep and restful sleep.
I stayed a few more minutes to make sure she was all right and then headed toward my room and a long hot shower.
The afternoon had turned as grey as our mood and the evening brought clouds and rain. I could hear the loud boom of thunder in the distance even under the shower. By the time I finished bathing, the temperature had dropped enough to make my wet skin stand up in goose bumps.
I hurried out of the bathroom and searched quickly through the walnut chest. I found a pair of old flannel pajamas and a sweatshirt and shrugged them on gratefully. I was hopping on one foot and pulling a thick sock on the other when Cassie tapped at the door.
The blessed child had a tray of steaming hot cream of tomato soup with cheese melted on top. It was her favorite meal. We turned the gas logs on low and sat on the rug in front of the hearth happily slurping soup and dunking Saltines in the melted cheese.
“I looked in on Gran before I came. She’s fine. Her color is back to normal, and she’s sleeping quietly.”
“Thanks,
