said.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe somebody from out of town stole it all. Or whoever stole it is waiting for the heat to die down before he dumps it somewhere,” Trace said.
He had the sense that somebody was listening to him and he walked softly to the open patio doors.
“Hello, Baron,” he said. “Why don’t you come in, instead of straining your ears?”
7
Baron Edvel Hubbaker stepped into the room. He was as tall as Trace and very thin.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Felicia.
She shrugged, and Trace said, “Mind telling us why you were eavesdropping?”
“Really, I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how a real detective worked. But I didn’t want to intrude, so I just thought I’d listen in.”
“Pitch right in,” Trace said. “How do you think I’m doing so far?”
“I haven’t learned anything new yet,” Hubbaker said.
“Here’s a new question for you,” Trace said. “Where were you the night Jarvis was killed?”
“Oh, that’s good. This is really getting good,” Hubbaker said. He seemed totally unconcerned by the question.
“Sorry, Trace,” Felicia said. “Edvel was in England with me. All these people were. We were staying at Lady Dishwater’s.”
“Lady Dishwater?” Trace said.
“We call her that. Lady Dicheter. We were all there. I invited them all to come with me when I had to come home, but they were all mutts and didn’t want to get involved in any funeral. So I came by myself and they all just arrived.”
“Sorry,” Hubbaker told Trace. “She’s my alibi.”
“It was worth a try,” Trace said. “I just generally mistrust people who try to listen in on my conversations. Why did Jarvis come home?”
“He got sick,” the countess said. “I think it might have been food poisoning. First, Willie got sick as soon as we all arrived, and then Early came down with it. I told him to take a couple of days off and go out into the countryside, but he decided he wanted to come back and see his doctor.”
Trace turned back to the fireplace, looked at the safe, then at the two plants on either side of the stone wall.
“This the plant that got knocked over?” he asked, touching the six-foot-high plant that sat loosely inside a Fiberglas pot.
“Yeah,” Felicia said. “I don’t know plants, but they’re some kind of aspidistra trees or something. They’re due for planting any day now and I just hope that one didn’t get shocked. They cost a small fortune. And another thing. I forgot to tell this to the police. The thief stole one of my ashtrays.” She walked to the end table by the sofa and picked up a heavy-looking milky-white marble ashtray. “There was another one just like this,” she said, “and now it’s gone.”
“Why would a thief steal an ashtray?” Trace said. “Unless maybe he hit Jarvis with it.”
“I don’t know,” Felicia said. “Maybe he was compulsively neat and didn’t want to drop cigarette butts in the yard when he was leaving. My ashtray. My goddamn tree. I hate this.”
Trace looked again at the two trees. All trees looked alike to him. He looked at the one that had gotten knocked over and then at the other one, sitting inside its green Fiberglas pot, its roots wrapped loosely in a burlap bag. It didn’t look any healthier to him than the other tree. Maybe shock was good for baby trees; maybe it let them know it was a jungle out there.
Trace looked at the trees and at the ashtray and at the fireplace and at the safe again. He glanced through the sliding doors toward the pool and the fish pond. He felt Hubbaker’s eyes watching him, and he felt required to do something detectivey.
“Umhum,” he said with what he hoped was proper significance. “Yup. I see. Umhum.”
“Oh, Trace, will you stop the bullshit?” Felicia said. “What are you doing?”
He looked at her. Her shirt had slipped open and her breasts were exposed again.
“Just thinking out loud,” he said darkly. “Is Spiro
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe somebody from out of town stole it all. Or whoever stole it is waiting for the heat to die down before he dumps it somewhere,” Trace said.
He had the sense that somebody was listening to him and he walked softly to the open patio doors.
“Hello, Baron,” he said. “Why don’t you come in, instead of straining your ears?”
7
Baron Edvel Hubbaker stepped into the room. He was as tall as Trace and very thin.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Felicia.
She shrugged, and Trace said, “Mind telling us why you were eavesdropping?”
“Really, I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how a real detective worked. But I didn’t want to intrude, so I just thought I’d listen in.”
“Pitch right in,” Trace said. “How do you think I’m doing so far?”
“I haven’t learned anything new yet,” Hubbaker said.
“Here’s a new question for you,” Trace said. “Where were you the night Jarvis was killed?”
“Oh, that’s good. This is really getting good,” Hubbaker said. He seemed totally unconcerned by the question.
“Sorry, Trace,” Felicia said. “Edvel was in England with me. All these people were. We were staying at Lady Dishwater’s.”
“Lady Dishwater?” Trace said.
“We call her that. Lady Dicheter. We were all there. I invited them all to come with me when I had to come home, but they were all mutts and didn’t want to get involved in any funeral. So I came by myself and they all just arrived.”
“Sorry,” Hubbaker told Trace. “She’s my alibi.”
“It was worth a try,” Trace said. “I just generally mistrust people who try to listen in on my conversations. Why did Jarvis come home?”
“He got sick,” the countess said. “I think it might have been food poisoning. First, Willie got sick as soon as we all arrived, and then Early came down with it. I told him to take a couple of days off and go out into the countryside, but he decided he wanted to come back and see his doctor.”
Trace turned back to the fireplace, looked at the safe, then at the two plants on either side of the stone wall.
“This the plant that got knocked over?” he asked, touching the six-foot-high plant that sat loosely inside a Fiberglas pot.
“Yeah,” Felicia said. “I don’t know plants, but they’re some kind of aspidistra trees or something. They’re due for planting any day now and I just hope that one didn’t get shocked. They cost a small fortune. And another thing. I forgot to tell this to the police. The thief stole one of my ashtrays.” She walked to the end table by the sofa and picked up a heavy-looking milky-white marble ashtray. “There was another one just like this,” she said, “and now it’s gone.”
“Why would a thief steal an ashtray?” Trace said. “Unless maybe he hit Jarvis with it.”
“I don’t know,” Felicia said. “Maybe he was compulsively neat and didn’t want to drop cigarette butts in the yard when he was leaving. My ashtray. My goddamn tree. I hate this.”
Trace looked again at the two trees. All trees looked alike to him. He looked at the one that had gotten knocked over and then at the other one, sitting inside its green Fiberglas pot, its roots wrapped loosely in a burlap bag. It didn’t look any healthier to him than the other tree. Maybe shock was good for baby trees; maybe it let them know it was a jungle out there.
Trace looked at the trees and at the ashtray and at the fireplace and at the safe again. He glanced through the sliding doors toward the pool and the fish pond. He felt Hubbaker’s eyes watching him, and he felt required to do something detectivey.
“Umhum,” he said with what he hoped was proper significance. “Yup. I see. Umhum.”
“Oh, Trace, will you stop the bullshit?” Felicia said. “What are you doing?”
He looked at her. Her shirt had slipped open and her breasts were exposed again.
“Just thinking out loud,” he said darkly. “Is Spiro
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