Requiem Murder Part 22

There were foster homes and some of the ones I've seen wouldn't provide Marcie the things she needed. Marcie lived for music. The system seldom provides for special talents. That was up to the individual foster family, not something the county would provide.

"Let me think about this and try to find a solution. Now, why don't you get ready for bed?"

She hugged me. "I'll be all right tonight. At the rate she's drinking, she'll pa.s.s out. Thanks for everything and I'll come by soon so we can talk."

"Good dreams."

She tried to smile but tears filled her eyes. "I'm not sure I want to sleep." As she closed the door, she spoke softly. "If she was dead..." The door closed.

I started to knock on the door. Then I shook my head. She was angry and hurt but she wouldn't act on her anger. I was sure of that.

Lars waited for me at the foot of the stairs. "What was that all about?"

"Tell you later. Where's Judith? I need to ask her several questions." Something Martin had said in the kitchen had tickled my curiosity about Judith's brother. The answers might lead to a way to help Marcie.

"She's gone. When Roger came down, she pounced and dragged him off for a walk." He shook his head. "I've never seen so many people pretending they're having fun. Edward and Laura left before Judith's outburst and the innocence went with him."

I knew what he meant. When Edward attends an affair, all is surface and sweet though often trouble rumbles deep.

"Then I need to see Martin. Why don't you fill a plate with an a.s.sortment of desserts and we'll take them home?"

His eyes twinkled. "Sounds good. That way no one will know how much we eat."

I backed into someone and turned. Pete grabbed my arm.

"Careful, Mrs. M. Don't want any more broken bones. Beth and I are leaving." He shook his head. "This

has been an interesting evening."

"Always."

"Is Marcie all right?" Beth asked.

"For tonight. She went to bed."

Beth sighed. "I wish there was something I could do. She's a good kid. What happened?"

"This isn't the time or place." A number of people stood nearby.

Beth put on her coat. "You're right. Tomorrow, maybe."

She and Pete headed to the door. I went to the kitchen. Martin sat at the table with a gla.s.s in his hand.

He looked up. "Is she all right?"

"Marcie? For now, but you have to do something before Judith destroys her."

"What can I do? I love my wife and I love my daughter." His gaze slid past me. "A mother should be

proud of her daughter...She has to be...It's only right... She loves me...She has to."

When I saw his concern was for himself and Judith, I left. Roger strode into the dining room. The look on

his face was that of a man who'd seen something that both frightened and fascinated. He nodded to me, walked to the bar and poured a drink.

Lars waited in the hall. "Ready?"

"Very." I reached for my coat. A gasp escaped. Judith was sprawled on the steps. At first I thought she

was dead. Then I touched her wrist and realized she'd pa.s.sed out.

"Should I carry her upstairs?" Lars asked.

"Let Martin see to her."

Lars opened the door. Once we were in the car, he spoke. "Promise me you'll stay out of the Simpson's

affairs."

"I intend to do just that."

"Good. I don't want anything to happen to you while I'm away."

Chapter 9.

Domini Jesu.

Monday was spent in recovering from the exertions of the Evensong and the aftermath. I consumed at least a gallon of mint tea and spent hours sitting in the window seat staring at the river and stroking Robespierre. He seemed to sense my uneasiness and only left my side once during the day.

Mulling over the scene at the Simpson's probably raised my blood pressure ten points. Not that I'm in danger of a stroke. I suffer from hypo, not hypertension.

Before I decided how to act, I had to know what had set Judith off. I'm sure she wouldn't tell me. The few crumbs of information I'd gleaned had told me little.

My fears centered around Marcie. Though on the day of her first organ lesson, I had cautioned her about confronting her mother, the child had been emotionally battered too often. I wasn't sure she'd heard what we said.

Lars came to dinner. His presence brought comfort. We avoided any mention of the Simpson's, St. Stephen's and Roger. He invited me again to come with him and once again, I refused.

On Tuesday I drove him to the airport. This was not one of my favorite trips, but has become less hectic since I discovered an alternate route home. This route didn't have me mentally biting my fingernails for fear of missing a turn and ending up on the George Was.h.i.+ngton Bridge bound for New York City. That had happened once.

Since we'd left at the time I usually take my walk, late that afternoon, I decided to walk uptown and do some Christmas shopping.

The air was cold but the sky was bright and cloudless. One of those late fall days that make you think of summer until you step outside.

At the corner, I met Martin. "Early dismissal?"

He teaches English at the local high school and once a month, the students are let out early. He didn't look like he'd been to school. A stubble covered his chin and he looked drained.

"Personal day. Judith's been sick for the past two days."

"Too much Evensong party?"

He shook his head. "That's what I thought yesterday but today she's complaining about sharp pains in her head and her eyes are sensitive to light."

"So you stayed home."

"Someone had to. Marcie couldn't miss school. I couldn't leave Judith alone, not when she's sick. She rarely misses a day of work and she tried to hide this from me. I was getting ready for work when one of the librarians called to ask if she'd be in today. I didn't know she was out yesterday."

"Has she seen a doctor? Headaches can be the sign of a serious problem."

As we crossed the street he took my arm. "She has a real distaste for doctors. Her father was one, and he never approved of anything she did. Wanted her to be a secretary, a teacher or a nurse and forced her to give up her dreams. She was never right and her three brothers never wrong."

"Are her brothers doctors?"

"One is. The other's an engineer."

"And the third?"

"He's the one who died but I think he was studying archaoelogy. He died when he when he was in

college. Some kind of accident. Judith seldom talks about her family. She's not close to them."

We continued the walk in silence. Speculations flowed in my thoughts. Was her dead brother the one

who'd stolen her dreams? Was he the one who'd hurt her? How had he died? Maybe her father had been the one. I didn't think I'd ever learn the answers, certainly not from Judith or Martin.

"Why did you leave Judith now?"

"I have to hit the drugstore." He shook his head. "I could have sworn we had a bottle of pain relievers,

but when Judith went for some she found the bottle empty. I wanted to wait until Marcie came home from her voice lesson but you know how impatient Judith can be when she wants something."

And how eager he was to please her. "I thought Judith ordered her to cancel her lessons with Roger."

"She never said that."

"Not in those words, but you were in the kitchen when your wife exploded. And all because Marcie dared criticize her voice."

He shook his head. "It wasn't like that. Marcie was upset because she had to stay home and prepare for the party. She insulted her mother and then accused her of something that didn't happen."

"Judith was out of line."

"She has no tolerance for criticism. That's all she heard when she was growing up."

"But she's an adult and she pushed Marcie into what the child said. Then she hit her."

He didn't meet my gaze. "Marcie deserved that slap. A mother has a right to discipline a child who lies.

Judith has never been alone with Roger."

Any further comments on my part remained unspoken. I'd heard Judith tell Roger that Martin was away. Another thought struck me. Marcie's evaluation of her mother's voice hadn't been what had angered Judith. What she'd said about Judith and Roger had. Martin's ready defense of his wife meant he wasn't ready to listen.