Part 17 (1/2)

”G.o.d help her,” I said. ”But don't send Vesta in just yet. First give me a chance with Mildred.”

”What would Mildred know?”

”More than you think,” I said. A lot more than you think A lot more than you think

Chapter Twenty-One.

I waited until we had finished grocery shopping to throw my firecracker into the furnace. Mildred sat in the pa.s.senger seat while I piled her groceries into the trunk. waited until we had finished grocery shopping to throw my firecracker into the furnace. Mildred sat in the pa.s.senger seat while I piled her groceries into the trunk.

”Don't let me forget to set aside some of those canned goods for the church cornucopia,” she said when I slid in beside her. ”They're supposed to collect them for the care center sometime this week.”

I said I wouldn't.

”And when are you going to tell me about those 'b.u.mps on your head,' as you describe them? What happened, Arminda? Why was someone trying to harm you?”

”In a minute,” I said. ”First tell me about your visit to Brookbend. Did you have a nice time with your relatives there?” I glanced at her as we waited to turn out of the parking lot.

”It was all right. Watch that truck, Arminda! Some people don't seem to know how to use a signal.”

”Tell me about your mother, Mildred. What was she like?”

”My mother?” Mildred opened her black leather purse- the only one I'd ever seen her carry-then snapped it shut again. ”Well... she was just... my mother,” she said. ”Why do you ask?”

”I've never heard you say much about her. What was her name?”

She turned and looked at me, s.h.i.+fting the purse on her lap. ”Ann. Her name was Ann.”

I felt her eyes on me as I maneuvered into the left lane of traffic. The Presbyterians were already returning from lunch at the Dine Rite Cafeteria a few miles down the road. The Methodists would be next, and finally, the Baptists.

”I know who she was, Mildred.” I smiled. ” Cousin Cousin Mildred. Is that why you made that mysterious trip to Brookbend?” Mildred. Is that why you made that mysterious trip to Brookbend?”

For a minute I thought she hadn't heard me, or if she had, she was going to deny it.

”I wish you hadn't found that out, Arminda. I'm afraid it could be a dangerous thing to know. There's something dreadful going on here, and I don't want anything happening to you-although it sounds as though my warning might be a bit too late.”

In a rare gesture of affection, Mildred put a hand on my arm and, I think, came close to patting it.

”You have a point there,” I said, and told her about the two attempts on my life.

”Great mercy's sakes alive!” This was as close as Mildred ever came to cursing, and she did it with a flair Sarah Bern hardt might've envied. ”Could Gatlin place the voice of the person who phoned? The one who pretended to be her neighbor?”

”Not really. Said she sounded like she had a cold. Or it might've even been a man.”

”How did you know-about my mother, I mean?” Mildred spoke in little more than a whisper.

”I saw her picture yesterday in an old yearbook at the academy, and it reminded me of a photograph I'd seen of you taken when you were younger.”

”Where on earth did you find that?”

”Came across it when Vesta and I were looking through your things-”

”You and Vesta went through my belongings? Why?”

”We needed to know what you packed when you left for your destination unknown destination unknown so we'd have some idea of how long you planned to be gone.” Irritation edged my voice, and I didn't try to sugarcoat it. ”We were worried about you, Mildred. We didn't know where you were.” so we'd have some idea of how long you planned to be gone.” Irritation edged my voice, and I didn't try to sugarcoat it. ”We were worried about you, Mildred. We didn't know where you were.”

”I'm sorry about that.” Mildred stared down at her lap and looked solemn-and more or less remorseful.

”So, are you going to tell me now?” I glanced at her. ”About your mother, Annie Rose. Where did she go when she left here, and why did she let everybody think she drowned?”

My pa.s.senger studied about that for a minute. ”Gatlin will probably be at the bookshop for a good while yet. Why don't we go back to the home place where we can talk? These groceries should be all right for a while in the trunk, don't you think? And I'll tell you what I know.”

”Fine. But first I think I have something that might belong to you,” I said.

A welcoming lamp burned in the back hallway of the house on Phinizy Street, and the kitchen had a faint, spicy smell that made me think of happier times.

Sniffing, Mildred followed her nose to the apple-shaped cookie jar on the counter and lifted the lid.

”Why, Minda, I didn't know you had the recipe. These were always your favorites. Remember? Your mother made them every Christmas.”

”Elf krispies!” I bit into a thin, nut-filled cookie, zippy with cloves and allspice. ”Mom said this is what Mrs. Claus made for Santa's elves,” I said, filling the kettle for tea.

Mildred smiled as she helped herself to another. ”You know, I expect she still does,” she said.

I left her waiting for the kettle to boil while I hurried upstairs for the pin I'd found in the bathroom stall at Minerva Academy. It was fastened just where I'd left it weeks before on the inside of a hideous orange toboggan cap Gatlin had once given me during her (thankfully) brief knitting stage.

”Where did you find this?” Mildred asked when I placed it on the table in front of her. She turned the pin in her fingers and examined the initials on the back. ”I was afraid it was gone forever!”

I told her how I had found the star-flower pin on the floor of the women's restroom and had put it in my pocket, then forgotten it during the grim events that followed. ”It wasn't until Gatlin and I discovered the minutes from what must have been a meeting of the Mystic Six that I remembered it,” I told her. ”The emblem on the paper was the same as that on the pin, and it's on the alma mater, too-the one my great-grandmother st.i.tched that was hanging at the academy.”

Mildred frowned and shook her head. ”The Mystic Six?”

”It was a club-a secret society, I think, and there were six members. Your mother, Annie Rose, was one, and so was her sister, Lucy. The others were Mamie Trammell Estes-who, by the way, is the only one still living; Pluma Griffin; Irene Bradshaw's mother, Pauline; and Flora Dennis.”

Mildred nodded. ”I remember Pauline. She came here once just before Lucy died. And Flora...”

Mildred stood and reached for the kettle. ”There are several kinds of tea bags. I didn't know what you wanted-”

”What about Flora?” I s.n.a.t.c.hed a tea bag from the closest box and took the kettle from her.

”She and Lucy corresponded-seemed to be close friends. I wrote to her when Lucy died.”

I sensed there was more, but Mildred wasn't going to share it. Not yet, anyway. ”Then you know about the quilt?”

I watched her face, waiting for her answer. Earlier she had claimed she'd never heard of it.

Mildred sighed. ”Lucy kept an old quilt in a trunk, but I didn't know of its significance until I hung it out to air once. She demanded I take it down. Something amiss there, I thought, but of course I didn't know what! I only saw it two other times: once when it arrived in the mail, and again when she asked me to box it up and send it to somebody else.”