“What's that?” April asked, pointing to a trap door in the ceiling.
“There's a crawl space between the roof and the ceiling,” I explained.
“Can it be used for storage?” Mark asked.
“Well, yes, I guess so, but it's difficult to get to, especially for us old folks.”
“I can reach it standing on this chair,” Mark said, dragging one of the wood-frame dining chairs to a spot underneath the door.
“No, Mark,” I said, “don't stand on the chair. It looks wobbly. You'll break your neck, or the chair, or both. Besides, you won't be high enough to look into the crawl space.”
“But the chair is stable enough for Mark to sit on,” April said. “With him providing a solid base I can safely climb onto his shoulders.”
“What?” I cried. “April, don't!”
But Mark had already sat in the chair and April took off her shoes and stepped up onto his thighs, with her hands on his shoulders. The bottom of her skirt was about at Mark's eye-level and inches from his face. Didn't girls have any modesty anymore? I hoped she was at least wearing underwear.
“It's okay,” April said. “I was a cheerleader in high school.”
That explained some things.
“Grab my ankles,” April said to Mark, who had already done so, partly in self-defense. “When I count to three lift me up onto your shoulders.”
Just like that. But Mark was big and strong and April probably didn't weigh more than 110 pounds. April helped by simultaneously pushing off with her feet against Mark's thighs and her hands against his shoulders. Of course Mark had to look up as he raised her above his head and I didn't want to know what he saw.
April couldn't stand up all the way because the ceiling intervened, but she managed to raise the door to the crawl space and then stand up, with her head above the ceiling.
As she stood in this precarious position, she lowered her head and said, “It's dark up there. I saw a flashlight in the headboard of the bed.”
There's nothing like planning ahead. “I'll get it,” I said, moving as fast as I could toward the bedroom. I didn't want this gymnastics exhibition to continue any longer than necessary. I returned and handed the flashlight to April, whose head disappeared into the crawl space.
Mark looked as if he was enjoying the situation; he adjusted his body to April's weight changes as she turned to look around her, and glanced up to check her…uh, stability.
After far too long a time for my mental and physical health, April lowered her head and said in a disappointed voice, “There's nothing up here except dust.”
She handed me the flashlight and replaced the door. When she ducked her head below the ceiling she slipped and came down off Mark's shoulders. Mark lost his grip on her ankles and his hands slid up her legs and underneath her skirt as he tried to get a hold, while she fell into his lap.
Her momentum carried them both off the chair and onto the floor, with Mark on top. April hit with a resounding thud. I gasped and feared the worst for her, but after the shock of the impact wore off, she laughed! Mark seemed to be all right, too. He slowly disentangled himself from her.
April was wearing panties, but they were so skimpy that I wondered why she bothered. She had a tattoo on her upper thigh; I couldn't make out what it was.
As she raised her head to get up, she said, “There's something under the couch.” She crawled over to it, reached out her hand and retrieved a deck of cards. She triumphantly handed it to me and said, “See, it was worth it.”
“Is that the deck?” Mark asked.
“It looks like the ones we play with,” I said, after a quick inspection. “I'll check with Wesley to make sure.”
“But even if it is, that's only circumstantial evidence. She might have bought those cards herself.”
“But Wesley buys his at a mail-order house, and I suspect the odds of anybody else doing that here at Silver Acres are slim.”
“Something like the odds against getting dealt 13 diamonds?” April asked. She was now on her feet and bouncing around as if nothing had happened.
“Not quite that bad,” I said. “Let's get out of here.” Then I took a look at the chair, which had fallen over along with the gymnasts. It had a cracked leg. We weren't going to get away with this, after all.
“We'll take it with us,” Mark said. “We can get it fixed and return it to Ellen anonymously.”
“I don't mind taking the cards,” I said, “because she'd never dare complain about those, but the chair…”
“We can't leave it because she might not see the crack and she might try to sit in it. I know a furniture repair place. I'll take it there.”
“But she'll miss it for sure…”
“One of the chairs to this set is being stored in the back of the closet to save room,” Mark said. “If we bring it out it will take her a while to figure out that one is missing-maybe long enough to allow us time to get it fixed.” He went into the closet and brought out the extra chair.
Mark had too much sense for someone his age. And too much integrity. When he mentioned the chair in the closet, my first thought was just to switch chairs and not take the broken one with us, but I found I couldn't suggest that in front of him. He picked up the broken chair and we left, hoping that if Ellen found her chair missing she wouldn't suspect me. We took a circuitous route to my apartment, but it probably wasn't necessary. Doesn't everybody carry a chair around with them?
“Lillian, I need to explain something to you.” Mark shifted his gaze from April's car to me as it rounded the curve and disappeared from sight. She was on her way to the Raleigh/Durham Airport to fly back to San Diego.
“I'm the one who should do the explaining,” I said. “Why I jeopardized you two kids for the sake of a deck of cards. Now I wish I hadn't.”
“No; you had to do it. I know the feeling because I'm like that. And you're tightening the noose on Ellen, however circumstantial your evidence.”
“I may never have enough to go to the police. I may just have to satisfy myself that I know she killed Gerald.”
“Perhaps. But what I want to explain to you is about April. April is pretty and smart and…sexy, and I enjoy her company, but…”
“I don't blame you. She's a lovely girl.”
“Yes, but what I'm trying to say is, although I enjoy the company of women, looking at them, flirting with them, and hope I still will when I'm 60…”
“I hope you still will when you're 80.”
“…my heart…my heart belongs to Sandra.”
“You don't have to tell me this.”
“I know, but…I want to. Because you're her grandmother and I want your respect.”
“Mark, you're going to have me in tears in a moment. Give me a hug and get back to your dissertation.”
“Okay, but just promise me you'll wear a green dress at our wedding. You look good in green.”
CHAPTER 20
I'm not the sort of person who gets pleasure from confronting people with their faults, especially when one of those faults is murder, but in a way I felt I owed it to Ellen to talk to her before going to the police.
For one thing I felt compassion for Ellen; after all, Gerald did pull a dirty trick on her husband, possibly even defrauding him out of a share of a Nobel Prize, and Ellen out of reflected glory, not to mention the money that goes with it.
I guess I hoped there could be a resolution other than throwing Ellen in jail for life. Perhaps she could plea bargain and get off with probation.
Tess wouldn't go with me; she had even less stomach for this confrontation than I did and she fervently hoped that Ellen hadn't murdered Gerald. She still hoped that he hadn't been murdered.
I called Ellen and told her I needed to talk to her and that I would be right over. I didn't give her a chance to say no. She didn't say much of anything.