Read Online Dead Man's Bones by Susan Wittig Albert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Wittig Albert
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square in her beaky nose.”
But at last the theater was ready and the play was as good as it was going to get. The dress rehearsal of A Man for All Reasons was scheduled for Thursday night, and the Denim and Diamonds Opening Night Gala for Friday, followed by the cast party, which Party Thyme had been hired to cater. The costumes and sets were finished, and the actors had been rehearsing for almost two months. The landscaping was done, too—except that Miss Jane didn’t like it, maybe because it made the overgrown garden around her house look like a tangle of weeds.
So what else was new?
I summoned a smile, knowing that I had to humor the old lady. “I certainly understand how you feel about the roses, Miss Jane. Actually, there’s plenty of room to add other plants.” I pointed to the top of the low berm. “We could put two rosebushes right there, and a couple more at the corners of the building. We might even add a rose arbor off to one side for a larger planting, if you like. The plants won’t be in bloom for Friday night, of course, but come spring, they’ll be gorgeous. Did your father have any particular favorites?”
“He liked Cecile Brunner and Duchess de Brabant.” Miss Jane spoke reluctantly, but her deep voice had lost some of its sarcastic edge.
“Those are both shrub roses, so we could use them at the top of the berm,” I said. “We might plant a Cecile Brunner climber at one corner of the theater. How about a Zepherine Drouhine at the other corner?”
“I’ll give it some thought,” the old lady said grudgingly. “How can I reach you?”
I fished a card out of my pocket and handed it to her. Maybe roses were the way to the lady’s heart. “That’s my shop number,” I said. “I can also have some little signs made up, identifying the roses as Doctor Obermann’s favorites.”
Her wide mouth curved into something that might have resembled a smile, although it might just as easily have been a grimace. “Very well, Ms. . . .” She glanced down at my card, as if it had been too much effort to remember my name, and she needed a prompt. She probably wouldn’t remember my face, either. “Ms. Bayless. You may expect to hear from me.”
“Actually, it’s Bayles,” I said quietly. “Rhymes with nails.”
Miss Florence tugged at her sister’s sleeve. “The sign, Jane,” she whispered. “You were going to ask Ruby about it.”
“I was just getting to that, Florence,” Miss Jane said irritably. She turned to look at the building. “The sign will be installed before opening night, I assume.” It wasn’t a question.
I shot an inquiring glance at Ruby, who said, quickly, “Oh, I’m sure it will. Would you like me to ask Marian Atkins to give you a call? She can fill you in on the details.”
“It’s a little late now, wouldn’t you say? I should have thought that Mrs. Atkins would have consulted with me about the sign before this.” Miss Jane’s face was stern and forbidding. “However, yes, she should call me. And when you speak to her, remind her to tell those who are attending the cast party on Friday night that there is to be no loud music or other revelry after eleven o’clock. Florence and I retire early, and do not wish to be disturbed.”
She gave me one more censorious glance and said, in a tone that showed that she classed me as a little lower than the gardener, “Put that hose away before someone trips over it.”
And that was it. Without another word, Miss Jane turned back toward the house, trailed by her acquiescent sister. When they had gone, Ruby let out her breath with an outraged snort.
“That old dragon! How the dickens did she manage to reach seventy-five without somebody bumping her off?”
“Beats me,” I said. “I’m glad I’m not playing her mama. I couldn’t do justice to the role. Has she given you any pointers?”
“Jane doesn’t give two hoots about the way I play her mother,” Ruby replied in a practical tone. “As far as
But at last the theater was ready and the play was as good as it was going to get. The dress rehearsal of A Man for All Reasons was scheduled for Thursday night, and the Denim and Diamonds Opening Night Gala for Friday, followed by the cast party, which Party Thyme had been hired to cater. The costumes and sets were finished, and the actors had been rehearsing for almost two months. The landscaping was done, too—except that Miss Jane didn’t like it, maybe because it made the overgrown garden around her house look like a tangle of weeds.
So what else was new?
I summoned a smile, knowing that I had to humor the old lady. “I certainly understand how you feel about the roses, Miss Jane. Actually, there’s plenty of room to add other plants.” I pointed to the top of the low berm. “We could put two rosebushes right there, and a couple more at the corners of the building. We might even add a rose arbor off to one side for a larger planting, if you like. The plants won’t be in bloom for Friday night, of course, but come spring, they’ll be gorgeous. Did your father have any particular favorites?”
“He liked Cecile Brunner and Duchess de Brabant.” Miss Jane spoke reluctantly, but her deep voice had lost some of its sarcastic edge.
“Those are both shrub roses, so we could use them at the top of the berm,” I said. “We might plant a Cecile Brunner climber at one corner of the theater. How about a Zepherine Drouhine at the other corner?”
“I’ll give it some thought,” the old lady said grudgingly. “How can I reach you?”
I fished a card out of my pocket and handed it to her. Maybe roses were the way to the lady’s heart. “That’s my shop number,” I said. “I can also have some little signs made up, identifying the roses as Doctor Obermann’s favorites.”
Her wide mouth curved into something that might have resembled a smile, although it might just as easily have been a grimace. “Very well, Ms. . . .” She glanced down at my card, as if it had been too much effort to remember my name, and she needed a prompt. She probably wouldn’t remember my face, either. “Ms. Bayless. You may expect to hear from me.”
“Actually, it’s Bayles,” I said quietly. “Rhymes with nails.”
Miss Florence tugged at her sister’s sleeve. “The sign, Jane,” she whispered. “You were going to ask Ruby about it.”
“I was just getting to that, Florence,” Miss Jane said irritably. She turned to look at the building. “The sign will be installed before opening night, I assume.” It wasn’t a question.
I shot an inquiring glance at Ruby, who said, quickly, “Oh, I’m sure it will. Would you like me to ask Marian Atkins to give you a call? She can fill you in on the details.”
“It’s a little late now, wouldn’t you say? I should have thought that Mrs. Atkins would have consulted with me about the sign before this.” Miss Jane’s face was stern and forbidding. “However, yes, she should call me. And when you speak to her, remind her to tell those who are attending the cast party on Friday night that there is to be no loud music or other revelry after eleven o’clock. Florence and I retire early, and do not wish to be disturbed.”
She gave me one more censorious glance and said, in a tone that showed that she classed me as a little lower than the gardener, “Put that hose away before someone trips over it.”
And that was it. Without another word, Miss Jane turned back toward the house, trailed by her acquiescent sister. When they had gone, Ruby let out her breath with an outraged snort.
“That old dragon! How the dickens did she manage to reach seventy-five without somebody bumping her off?”
“Beats me,” I said. “I’m glad I’m not playing her mama. I couldn’t do justice to the role. Has she given you any pointers?”
“Jane doesn’t give two hoots about the way I play her mother,” Ruby replied in a practical tone. “As far as
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