by Donald Olson
Donald Olson is a master of the cozy mystery story. His settings are often familiar domestic environments, em-ploying a closed circle of characterswho know each other well. And there is an element of gentility to his style that one rarely encounters nowadays. But if there is something reminiscent of the past in all of this, it must also be said that the things that motivate Mr. Olson’s characters are thoroughly up-to-date. We salute him on his 100-plus tales!
With only a token wrinkle of disgust, careful that no drop of blood from the croquet mallet stain the beige linen skirt of which she was particularly fond, Violet Rusken wiped the murder weapon vigorously on the grass, then continued to hold it as she gazed down upon the dead body of her employer.
Audrey Fisher’s body lay where she’d fallen, her head touching a blood-smeared wire wicket. The phrase “sticky wicket” crossed Violet’s mind and she almost smiled. A heavy blow had shattered Audrey’s skull, no doubt as delicately boned as the rest of her expensively clad body; that body, Violet was satisfied to realize, which would never again enjoy the unwilling embraces of her husband Edward.
Dear, sweet, long-suffering Edward, freed at last from the shackles of a loveless marriage.
But this was no time for idle daydreaming. Much to be done. First and foremost, disposal of the body. No problem there. Violet was not a dainty little teapot like Audrey but a woman of impressive stature, a robustious woman with a rich soft turban of chestnut hair and eyes on fire. That was Edward’s phrase—Your eyes are on fire, he’d whispered on that memorable magic night which had changed Violet’s life. Actually, it had happened only once and Edward, poor darling, had all but groveled with apologies the next morning. He’d had too much to drink, he hadn’t known what he was doing, it would never happen again, blah-blah-blah.
Oh, but it would, Violet was confident of that. She was banking her heart on it. Edward loved her, must have secretly lusted after her ever since she’d gone to work for Audrey. Yes, it would happen again and again and again now that Audrey, the bitch, was no longer in the way. Edward’s discreetly proper behavior ever since that wonderful night could not fool Violet.
She looked away from the croquet court to the pool below the terrace and the timber-and-stucco house beyond, then she strode purposefully to the toolshed behind the garage, hitched the trailer to the riding lawnmower, drove it across the lawn to where the body lay; with Audrey hefted onto the trailer she headed for the riverbank. There, with spade and pitchfork, Violet bent to her task and in hardly more time than it would have taken to plant a row of tulip bulbs Audrey was safely buried in the mucky earth, her grave hidden among the forget-me-nots and reeds growing so thickly along the riverbank. This done, Violet retrieved the mallet, gave it a thorough scrubbing, and replaced it in the rack before going back to the house to freshen up.
Then for the risky part; well, maybe not so much risky as tricky. In Audrey’s sumptuous dressing room Violet packed a few of Audrey’s clothes and toiletries in an overnight bag, donned a pair of Audrey’s gloves, made sure the car keys were in Audrey’s handbag, and was soon on her way to the county airport in Audrey’s baby-blue Mercedes, first dropping the bags off at her own apartment in town. At the airport she parked in a far corner of the lot, waited to be sure she was unobserved, then calmly walked into the terminal, waited for the city-bound bus, and climbed aboard.
Violet was proud of the cool efficiency with which she’d done what had to be done, but then efficiency, along with her secretarial skills, had landed her the job with Audrey Fisher, her main task being to assist Audrey with the manuscript of a book she was writing about her late father, that old bore the Senator.
Violet had no fear that Audrey’s disappearance would change her own status; the bulky manuscript was not yet ready for the publisher and Edward, moreover, would rely on her help getting Audrey’s affairs in order. Violet had always found Edward, like many exceedingly handsome men, somewhat lacking intellectually. It didn’t take a vast amount of brain power to run the estate agency Audrey herself had managed before marrying Edward. Most of the real work, Violet felt sure, was left in the capable hands of Edward’s young assistant, Todd Landry, not one of Violet’s favorite people.
* * * *
Edward returned from his office four hours later to find Violet hard at work in Audrey’s study.
“Violet, what are you doing here? I understood you were spending the day at the Gresham Library. And where’s Audrey?”
Violet smiled at him, undressing him with her eyes and hoping he got the message. “I finished earlier than expected and thought I might as well come in instead of taking the rest of the day off as Audrey kindly suggested. She wasn’t here when I got back.”
Edward checked the time. “She knows we have an early dinner date with the Randolphs.”
“Maybe she went shopping.”
“Well, you might as well go home,” he said.
“I want to check some things with Audrey. I’ll wait.”
At six she went downstairs. Edward was hovering by the french doors in the living room holding a drink.
“No word?” Violet said.
“No. I called and canceled our dinner date. Funny. She can’t have forgotten.”
Poor Edward, Violet thought. He really did look flummoxed. What an inspired pair of frauds they were. Actors to the hilt. Edward faking such concern for his missing wife, she pretending to know nothing about Audrey’s whereabouts. Why must they play this idiotic charade?
She offered to fix him something to eat. He shook his head. “Don’t bother. You’ll want to get home.”
As if he really believed that. Eager to get back to that lonely cubbyhole in Gresham? “I insist,” she said firmly. “You must eat something, Edward. Take my word for it, there is nothing to worry about.”
Ignoring his protests, Violet headed for the kitchen. Their first meal together—alone. Something more exciting than a salad was called for. He must be literally fed up with Audrey’s salads, as well as with that boring health regime she kept him on. No more, dear heart, no more. In my hands you’ll eat what you like and do as you wish.
Edward, however, remained too preoccupied to mumble more than a perfunctory compliment on her efforts. Well, of course he was preoccupied. It must be driving him crazy wondering what had happened to Audrey. How she glowed with the knowledge of her little secret.
“Maybe there was an accident,” she said, now almost enjoying the charade.
“We’d have heard something.”
“Not necessarily. I think we should call the police. It’s been hours. Something must have happened.”
He regarded her with a muddled, indecisive expression. “I guess you’re right.” A feeble smile. “I do appreciate your concern, Vi, but there’s nothing more you can do. You may as well go home.”
She ventured a comforting pat on his arm as she cleared away his plate. “Please let me stay, Edward. Only until you hear something. All I’d do is sit home and worry.”
“Funny,” he said. “I somehow got the impression you weren’t that fond of Audrey.”
How perceptive: “Yes, I can’t honestly say I like Audrey, although I do admire her tremendously. Almost as much as I admire your—forbearance.”
“Forbearance?”
“Edward, don’t pretend Audrey is an easy person to live with—or up to.”
As if unwilling to enter that area of speculation, Edward rose from the table, said dully: “I’d better make that call.”
A few minutes later he came upstairs. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded from the dressing-room doorway.
Violet froze. Posed like a model in front of the pier-glass, one hand on her hip, she was wearing Audrey’s calf-length sable coat. Now she quickly slipped it off and turned to face Edward with a repentant smile.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I was just checking Audrey’s closet to see if anything’s missing.”
“Missing?” he said sharply. “Why should there be anything missing? There’s been no robbery.”
“No, not that. I just wondered ... She’s gone, her car is gone, no explanation...”
Violet had to admire his pretense of anxious solicitude. She felt a great wave of tenderness and sympathy. If she could only tell him. “Edward, I’m afraid you’re wrong. A number of her things are gone. Clothes, makeup, toothbrush, an overnight bag.”
Edward’s face lost even more color. He sat down on the velvet settee and raked his fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t make sense. I just don’t understand.”
“Did you call the police?”
“They said if I don’t hear anything before then they’ll send someone around in the morning.”
Insisting he wanted to be alone, he would not hear of Violet spending the night. She promised to return first thing in the morning. What did one more night matter, she thought, when heaven lay just around the corner.
The detective’s name was Nobbs and he projected an air of hard-core efficiency under a polite veneer of respectful sympathy for Edward’s concern. And he already had news to impart.
“Your wife’s car was found at the airport, sir. Keys still in the ignition.”
“That’s crazy! She wouldn’t just take off like that. We had a dinner date with friends. She reminded me of it yesterday morning.”
“Could she have been abducted?” said Violet brightly.
Nobbs frowned. “Any reason to believe that? You said you got here about noon, Miss Rusken. Notice anything unusual? Signs of an intruder? Anything at all out of the ordinary?”
Violet shook her head. “Apart from Mrs. Fisher’s absence, no.”
“Doors were locked?”
“Yes. I used my own key to get in.”
Edward scoffed at Nobbs’s suggestion that Audrey apparently left of her own accord. “She would never have left her keys in the car. It’s a brand new Mercedes, for God’s sake.”
“Unless she didn’t plan to return,” said Violet, provoking an even angrier denial from Edward.
Nobbs asked Edward for a picture of Audrey. “We’ll show it to airport personnel and check outgoing passenger lists. Meanwhile, I’ll take a look around here. Aside from that, there’s really nothing we can do until you hear something.”
Edward left for the office after Nobbs departed. He called several times during the day to learn if Violet had heard anything and didn’t get home until after dark.
He said he’d already eaten and disappeared into the study. A storm had blown up in the afternoon and was still raging. This time Edward offered only a token protest when Violet insisted he let her stay the night.
“I’ll be quite comfy in the guest room,” she said, adding coyly: “After all, it’s not the first time I’ve slept there.”
Edward, seemingly intent upon dulling his anxiety with whiskey, did not react. Making a show of tidying the room as Edward slumped on the sofa, Violet said passingly: “You don’t suppose she found out, do you, Edward?”
“Found out what?” His weary gaze focused on her with sudden sharpness.
“Well, you know ... about us.”
“What about us?”
“My dear, it’s no use pretending it didn’t happen, not anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
She felt suddenly angry. Why was he being so obtuse? It required all her self-control to keep from blurting out the truth of what she’d done for him.
“I’m talking about us. About the night Audrey asked me to stay over, and what happened. We needn’t pretend any longer, Edward. She’s gone, that’s all that matters. How or why is of no importance. She isn’t coming back.”
No alcoholic fuzziness in his eyes or voice now. “How do you know that?”
Had she gone too far? “Well, I don’t know, of course, but how else can you read the evidence? If she’d found out about us...”
Edward’s look of amazement collapsed into a smile of amused disbelief. “My God, Vi, where are you coming from? Nothing’s been going on between us.”
“You know what I mean. That night. What you said—and did.”
“Oh God, you can’t possibly have misunderstood that. Look, it was all my fault. I admitted that. Don’t ask me why it happened. I’d had a tiff with Audrey. I was drunk, feeling sorry for myself. It was a stupid mistake. I’m sorry.”
This was not at all the scenario Violet had contemplated with such fond anticipation. But she didn’t blame Edward. She blamed herself. Poor darling, how could he concentrate on anything at the moment aside from what had happened? Now was hardly the time to remind him of his infidelity; he must be feeling guilty enough already. Now was the time to offer sympathy and compassion. He needed her, as he would soon discover.
“No, Edward, I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re right. Now isn’t the time to think about us. You’ll see things more clearly in the morning.”
* * * *
Detective Nobbs arrived at the house not long after Edward had left for the office the following morning. Violet explained that Nobbs had just missed him.
“I know. It wasn’t Mr. Fisher I wanted to see. I thought you and I might have a little chat. When I was here before I had a hunch that Mr. Fisher’s presence put a certain—restraint on you.”
“I don’t understand,” said Violet, only faintly alarmed. Nobbs hadn’t ventured beyond the pool and terrace on his first visit; he could have discovered nothing.
“You worked closely with Mrs. Fisher. You must have been aware of any domestic trouble between her and her husband.”
“Quite the contrary. They got along fine.”
“Then tell me what you think happened.”
“Isn’t it obvious? She packed her bag and flew away. Don’t ask me why.”
“No one claims to have seen Mrs. Fisher at the airport. She was not listed as a passenger on any of the day’s commuter flights.”
Violet floundered. “So maybe she left her car there to throw anyone off the scent. Maybe someone picked her up.”
Nobbs jumped on this. “Are you implying that she might have been involved with someone?”
“Indeed not. She’s devoted to Edward.”
Nobbs looked around appraisingly. “As I understand it all this is actually hers, right? Inherited from her father the Senator. House, money, everything?”
“So what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Possibly nothing.”
“Look here,” she said, hotly indignant, “you’re not suggesting Edward had anything to do with Audrey’s disappearance, I hope.”
“There’s no indication of that, so far. Mrs. Randolph verified Mr. Fisher’s story about the dinner date. We know that Mr. Fisher was already at his office when she called Mrs. Fisher to confirm the date. According to Mr. Landry, Mr. Fisher didn’t leave his office all day. You said you arrived here about noon and found nothing amiss, except for Mrs. Fisher’s absence.”
Violet nodded. “Audrey must have packed and taken off sometime after Edward left the house and before I got here. What more can I tell you?”
* * * *
Edward called that afternoon to tell Violet he was having dinner with Audrey’s lawyer and would spend the night in town with a friend and see her in the morning.
“I’m sorry about everything, Vi. We’ll have a good talk when I see you.”
This pretty speech boosted Violet’s spirits. Everything was going to be all right. Edward had realized how much he needed her. Her happiness suffered a slight rebuff, however, when Edward came home in the company of his young assistant.
Violet had laid the table on the terrace beside the pool and had prepared a lovely breakfast, the sort Edward probably hadn’t enjoyed in years.
“I’ll set another plate,” she said, feigning delight at seeing Landry, and added, to Edward: “Everything you really like. Time someone spoiled you.”
Edward grinned at Landry. “I don’t know what Audrey would do without Violet. She’d mother me if I gave her the chance.”
The word mother didn’t sit well with Violet but she faked amusement. “No word from Audrey, Edward?”
“No.”
“Well, cheer up. I’m sure you’ll hear something today.”
Edward’s night in town had seemingly restored his spirits; he was visibly in no need of cheering up. Violet poured the coffee and they all sat down.
Violet’s few encounters with Landry had left her unimpressed and vaguely distrustful. She found the young man’s familiar manner toward his employer inappropriate. Nor did his looks appeal to her. Too cute for her liking, one of those snub-nosed, fair-haired, and blue-eyed angel-with-muscles types.
Avoiding the subject of Audrey’s disappearance, the two men talked shop throughout the meal, leaving Violet with the disagreeable feeling of being the invisible woman. Presently, Landry excused himself. “I’d better get my bags from the car and drive you back to the office, Ed.”
“You needn’t bother. Why don’t you stay here and settle in?”
“Settle in?” said Violet, nonplussed.
Edward finished his coffee, said lightly: “Todd’s moving in until we hear something.”
Ominous tidings, indeed. “But Edward, I’ll be here. You won’t be alone.”
“Vi, dear, you’ve done more than enough. There’s no point in your doing any further work until we hear from Audrey. I know you must be eager to get back to your own place. It’s high time you had a holiday.”
No, this was not going right at all. “I don’t want a holiday. I want to keep working on the book until Audrey returns. She’d expect me to.”
“We don’t know if Audrey’s going to return,” said Edward, rising and following Landry from the terrace. Violet trailed after them, her face blank with dismay. Landry here? Spoiling everything? Unthinkable.
As the young man fetched his bags from the car and carried them upstairs, Violet seized Edward’s arm. “I don’t understand. We don’t need him here.”
“No, but he’s kindly offered to stay. Please, Vi, I don’t wish to discuss it.”
“Edward, you can’t just throw me out like this.”
“I’m not throwing you out. Be sensible.”
“After what I’ve done for you?”
“You’ve embarrassed me, Vi, that’s what you’ve done. And I don’t think Audrey’s going to want you working for her. Not after I tell her about your—fantasies.” He opened the car door and looked around at her. “I want you gone when I get back from the office. You can leave your key with Todd.”
Before she could protest he was in the car and driving away. She could not have been more shocked if he’d driven the car straight into her body. When she finally found the strength to move she walked slowly into the house, turning blindly into the study and shutting the door behind her.
When she came out a few minutes later Landry, wearing only bathing trunks, came tripping lightly down the stairs.
“If anyone calls,” he said, “I’ll be in the pool.”
Seething with the cruel injustice of it all, Violet followed him out onto the terrace.
“You lied to the police!” she cried. “You told them Edward never left his office that morning.”
Landry shrugged. “He never did. What the hell are you going on about?”
“He killed Audrey! And you’re covering up for him.”
“You’re crazy. What put that idea in your mind?”
“I risked my life for him! He thought I wouldn’t be here that day. My taxi was just approaching when I saw his car speed out of the driveway. I found Audrey dead on the lawn. He’d killed her with a croquet mallet. I suppose he thought it would be blamed on an intruder. Never! Police aren’t that dumb. He would never have got away with it. I had to protect him. I had to make it look as if she’d run away. I buried her down by the river and left her car at the airport. I saved Edward’s life. Because I loved him. Because I thought he loved me.”
Landry stared at her with astonished disbelief. “So that’s what happened. My God, it was you.”
“I buried her. I didn’t kill her. Edward did. Now I don’t care who knows it.”
His sudden burst of laughter jarred her into silence. “You’re wrong, you know. Ed didn’t kill her. I did. It was me driving away in Ed’s car. When he told me she’d vanished I couldn’t believe it. It seemed like some kind of bizarre joke. I’ve gone nuts wondering what the hell happened to her body.”
Violet swayed. “You? But why?”
“Because she’d found out about Ed and me. She came across a letter I’d been dumb enough to write to him. She was going to dump him. He’d have lost everything. All this, the business, every damn thing.”
“Edward? And you?”
“Shocks you, does it? Imagine how Audrey felt.”
Feeling too weak to stand, Violet reached out for the chaise beside the pool and sank down upon it. It was all for nothing. All a waste. Shutting her eyes to hold back the tears, she wasn’t aware that Landry had moved until he was standing behind her, his hands gripping her shoulders.
“You look all hot and bothered, love,” he whispered in her ear. “I think we both need a dip.”
* * * *
He was changing when the doorbell rang. Shirtless, he waited for whoever it was to go away; when the bell kept ringing he quickly ran a comb through his damp hair and went down to answer it.
He recognized the detective who’d questioned him at the office.
“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Landry,” said Nobbs. “We’re here to see Miss Rusken. She called a few minutes ago, said she had something very important to tell us about Mr. Fisher.”
Landry’s lips formed the semblance of a smile. “Sorry, you just missed her. She left a few minutes ago.”
Before Nobbs could reply a uniformed officer appeared beside him. “You’d better come around to the pool, sir,” he said to Nobbs. “I think I’ve found her.”