A Gilded Drowning Pool by Cecelia Tichi

Author:Cecelia Tichi [Tichi, Cecelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-01T20:43:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

THE KIDDS’ BROUGHAM SPED us to Kiddwood without a moment’s time to think or talk. We held hands.

I tried to recall the young woman in the white robe. Except for darting eyes and large hands, no physical feature of Ella Conklin came to mind. Did she kill Fiona Peebles? In jealous rage, did she lure her to the pool and force her under the water until her lungs filled and she drowned? And with a warrant for her arrest in Florida too? Ella had pressed the wad of wet fabric into my hand last Sunday afternoon, and I joked about the smeared writing on it. Cassie did not touch it, though its nearness in the phaeton summoned the otherworldly vision that troubled both of us.

I asked myself, was the young woman with the water bucket a murderer? Did she press the wet wad in my hand to involve us in her plot? I brought it with me in the little valise, a ripped rag among snowy handkerchiefs.

The carriage turned all too soon into the hard-packed lane, and Kiddwood’s lighted windows and tinkling piano intruded in the dusk. I jammed the Kingston newspaper under my arm just before stepping onto the veranda, ushered inside by the Kidds’ butler and greeted by Sadie in a frosty welcome.

“The prodigal DeVeres,” she trilled, “yet once again at our dear Kiddwood.” Her jeweled rings clawed my fingers, but no apology this time. “Roderick, you scamp,” she continued, “up to new tricks, it seems, and we are owed a confession about the secrets of the DeVere property, are we not? An explanation? First thing this evening without fail, and I have broken my cardinal rule. Because of the disruption, dinner will be delayed.” Sadie beckoned a footman. “Show the DeVeres to their rooms. When they are dressed, show them to Mr. Kidd’s card room. We will await them.”

We hurried past the foyer where formally dressed guests sipped wine, chatted, and apparently ignored Jack Barrott’s robust piano chords. I glimpsed Alf talking with the young couple from the steamboat. He caught my eye and glowered. Our Health-to-Wealth secret was out and we owed him and Sadie an explanation.

We did.

Inside my room with Roddy, I opened the Freeman, and we read the account of Ella Conklin’s arrest for the murder of Fiona Peebles in “darkest woods” beyond the Kingston city limits. The short article was a stream of headlines. “Jealous rage incites murder... Fears roused in Ulster County...Assistant Chief of Police Clyde Fitch affirms officers vigilant...Jail completed in record time for record murder...Free Love possible motive....”

“The massages...” Roddy said. “I’d bet the massages roused suspicion that Health-to-Wealth is a traveling brothel, and the Freeman sold lots of papers.”

“But it says nothing about massages.”

“Maybe next issue. It’s a weekly.”

I looked for a reporter’s name. No name. “Roddy, the newspaper is useless.” I stuffed it under the mattress. “There were two women in the lineup for watermelon last Sunday,” I said, “but the massage women did not participate. They were not part of the ritual.

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