Before one of us could answer, someone screamed.
A bloodcurdling scared-to-death scream. Like someone saw a ghost.
A blast of frigid air swept through the house. All four of us jumped up and dashed into the foyer. Francie lay in the doorway, half in and half out. Behind her, June stood frozen, her back to us.
“What happened?” I slid to a stop next to Francie and knelt. Memories of Simon’s corpse pounded in my brain as I reached for her wrist. Thankfully, this time I felt a pulse.
Hannah shook my shoulder. “Soph . . .” I ignored her.
“Francie!” I gently patted her cheeks to rouse her.
“SOPHIE!” Hannah shouted.
“Not now, Hannah.”
She shook my shoulder and pointed outside. I followed the line of her finger and jerked upright. Waves of shock and relief rendered me momentarily speechless. I blinked hard, my brain not quite making sense out of what I saw.
The colonel marched along the sidewalk, tapping his walking stick, and turned up the walk to my house. “MacArthur’s missing!” he yelled. “Have you seen him?”
At the sound of the colonel’s voice, MacArthur scrambled over Francie’s body and raced to the colonel.
Francie’s eyelids fluttered and she gasped, “I thought I saw the colonel.”
I leaned over her. “You did. He’s alive and well.”
“What?” She sat up. She trembled and tears flowed down her weather-beaten face. I clasped her hand, not sure which one of us was shaking harder. A little cheer went up and the gloom that had hung over us all day lifted.
The colonel appeared bewildered by the pats on the back and the hugs he received. I clasped him to me as though it would prove he was alive, while Bernie and Dad helped Francie to her feet. Then Mom herded us all into the kitchen just as a downpour began. On the way I explained to the colonel that we thought he’d died and been carted away by a hearse.
Seated by the fire with MacArthur at his feet, the colonel slapped his knee and laughed. “I wasn’t dead, but I was in that hearse.”
Dad raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps you’d better explain.”
“It was the oddest thing. In the middle of the night, a call girl arrived on my doorstep. I have no idea why.”
June’s lips pulled tight. She obviously wasn’t buying his story.
“The poor child was half frozen so I asked her to step inside while we tried to figure out what had happened. Don’t look at me that way, June,” he said. “I’m not in the habit of using that kind of service. Besides, she was far too young for me.”
“Did you or did you not order a call girl?” demanded June.
“I did not,” said the colonel emphatically. His shoulders squared in military fashion. “She called her, uh, office and there was some confusion about the order. I made the poor girl a cup of tea to warm up. But when she left, she twisted her ankle on the sidewalk. Little wonder, you should have seen her shoes.”
We had. Those five-inch heels were an accident waiting to happen. His story sounded authentic so far.
“I didn’t know quite what to do. A twisted ankle isn’t really worth calling an ambulance for. But while she sat on the front walk, your friend, Humphrey, came along. He offered to deliver her to the emergency room. Humphrey and I helped her to his hearse and I thought I’d better go with them. I was afraid she might not have medical insurance and I certainly didn’t want her suing me.”
June’s expression softened. “Did she break her ankle?”
“It’s only a sprain, though I understand they can be very painful. A most unsavory boyfriend arrived to pick her up. It was dawn by the time Humphrey brought me home. I went straight to bed and when I awakened, MacArthur had vanished.”
“I’m so sorry. We thought you had died and that MacArthur was alone,” I said.
“Sophie”—he flashed me an emotional smile—“it’s good to know I have such caring neighbors. Thank you for looking out for MacArthur. One mystery solved. But I still don’t understand how that young woman got my name. I would never use that sort of business. It’s most peculiar.”
“She had Sophie’s address. If you’d”—June cleared her throat—“placed the order, surely you’d have given the correct address.”
“It’s almost like someone sent her here on purpose,” said Bernie.
I turned very slowly toward Francie, who held a damp cloth to her forehead. She averted her eyes.
Bernie’s lips curled into his lopsided grin.
Mom scolded, “Francie, you didn’t!”
“I’ve suffered a huge shock. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Francie avoided looking at any of us. It was no small feat given that the kitchen was packed.
“Francie?” said the colonel.
“Okay, okay. I ordered the call girl. I wanted to get you back for not being interested in me. You know, a gag. And then I thought I’d killed you.”
“You mean he didn’t arrange for the tart?” asked June.
“Of course not.” Color flooded back to Francie’s skin. “He’s much too proper for anything like that. I never meant to kill him, just shake him up a little bit. Maybe start some neighborhood rumors to embarrass him.”
Funny how life turns out sometimes, I thought. Francie’s vengeful little game backfired on her. No wonder she’d been inconsolable. She thought she’d murdered the colonel by sending the tart. I started to giggle and poor Bernie couldn’t hold back his amusement any longer. It was contagious. In a flash, everyone, even the colonel and Francine Vanderhoosen, laughed and wiped teary eyes.
When we recovered, the colonel asked, “Just one thing. Did I leave a door unlocked? How did you get MacArthur out of my house?”
The color that had returned to Francie’s face turned an ugly shade of red.
“A neighbor knew where you hide the key,” I said.
My vague answer wasn’t lost on the colonel.
He looked straight at Francie when he murmured, “I see.”
Just then the knocker banged on the door again. Daisy barked and we all heard the door open and close. Wolf appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the colonel. “Glad to see you hale and hearty, sir. That explains why we didn’t have any record of your demise.”
The colonel grinned. “I’m fairly pleased about it myself.”
“I didn’t expect to find so many of you gathered here,” said Wolf. “I came to see Mrs. Winston, but I suspect she won’t mind if the rest of you hear what I have to say. The Loudoun County fire chief called me this morning. They know how the blaze at Natasha’s home started.”
TWENTY-NINE
From “THE GOOD LIFE”:
Dear Sophie,
My guests are still hanging around for the weekend after Thanksgiving. I’m itching to start decorating for Christmas, but I don’t dare make that kind of mess until my mother-in-law leaves. How do I create a transitional ambiance without a lot of work?