Polly’s death?” Anita snapped.
Shrugging, Marla pulled out her chair. “Who knows?” She sank down, grabbing her wineglass and draining the contents.
A waitress in a black dress and white apron approached. “Ma’am, would you like your dinner now? I’ve been holding it for you.”
“Yes, thank you.” It would be a while before their next meal, especially if their activities were cancelled.
Her relatives plied her with questions to which she responded in monosyllables in between bites of turkey dinner. She wasn’t terribly hungry but forced herself to eat. Another glass of wine left her light-headed but calmer.
Dr. Angus was probably right in assuming that Polly had died of natural causes. If her aunt had to take morphine, she must have been hiding a serious problem. Perhaps she’d merely hastened her own death by taking too much narcotic analgesic. But, then, who’d hired the aide, why were Polly’s undergarments strewn on the floor, and what had aroused Vail’s suspicions?
Marla remembered her own evening purse had been displaced. She had unpacked it and put it in the nightstand. Somehow the beaded bag had moved on its own back to her suitcase. Person or poltergeist? Were there truly ghosts here, or human beings who aimed to perpetuate the legends?
Watching her relatives chatting animatedly about the latest family fiasco, she wondered if one of them was lying about hiring the aide. It should be easy enough to discover if the woman had come from a service. Maybe she’d left a receipt in Polly’s room. I’ll have to get in there later, after things quiet down. Among other items, Marla needed to obtain Polly’s checkbook. Since her name was on the account, she’d have to pay any final bills. More importantly, she wanted to locate the letters her aunt had mentioned. Perhaps they gave a clue to Polly’s illness, but that made sense only if they were recent. No doubt about it, she needed access to Polly’s personal belongings.
“If the police don’t pursue an investigation, I suppose someone will have to pack Polly’s things,” she addressed the assembly. “I’d like to help.”
Anita’s expression showed relief. “You’re her closest niece. That makes sense. If you can handle those details, I’ll plan the memorial service. Moishe, what about you?”
The older gent cleared his throat. “We’re flying home to Denver on Sunday. We’ve already paid our regards to Polly by being here for this reunion.”
“I see,” Anita said coldly. “William?”
“I can’t stay for the funeral. We have a flight to catch, too, and I have appointments next week. We’ll attend in spirit. You’ll have enough nieces and nephews to make a minyan if you allow women to participate in the prayer circle.”
“I’m Reform these days,” Anita told them. She glanced at Marla, her scornful look telling her daughter what she thought about her siblings.
“Hey, Marla,” called Joan. “Does this mean we’re calling off the treasure hunt?”
A barrage of inquiries followed, and Marla felt compelled to explain the situation to those who hadn’t heard about it earlier. “Polly told me about a stash of gemstones that Andrew kept as his source of wealth. She seemed to believe some are still hidden on the resort grounds. I’m guessing Aunt Polly returned here every year in order to search for them.”
“Oh, cool,” squealed one of the younger cousins. “Do you think that’s what those two strangers were after, the ones who met with Andrew the night he died?”
“Could be.” She shoved her half-eaten plate of food aside. “You can look for the precious stones. I have better things to do.” Feeling a crushing need for privacy, she murmured farewells before exiting outdoors into the waning afternoon sun.
Once alone, she inhaled a deep breath of warm ocean air. Being surrounded by relatives all weekend was beginning to take its toll, along with the tragedy of Polly’s death. She needed time by
Shrugging, Marla pulled out her chair. “Who knows?” She sank down, grabbing her wineglass and draining the contents.
A waitress in a black dress and white apron approached. “Ma’am, would you like your dinner now? I’ve been holding it for you.”
“Yes, thank you.” It would be a while before their next meal, especially if their activities were cancelled.
Her relatives plied her with questions to which she responded in monosyllables in between bites of turkey dinner. She wasn’t terribly hungry but forced herself to eat. Another glass of wine left her light-headed but calmer.
Dr. Angus was probably right in assuming that Polly had died of natural causes. If her aunt had to take morphine, she must have been hiding a serious problem. Perhaps she’d merely hastened her own death by taking too much narcotic analgesic. But, then, who’d hired the aide, why were Polly’s undergarments strewn on the floor, and what had aroused Vail’s suspicions?
Marla remembered her own evening purse had been displaced. She had unpacked it and put it in the nightstand. Somehow the beaded bag had moved on its own back to her suitcase. Person or poltergeist? Were there truly ghosts here, or human beings who aimed to perpetuate the legends?
Watching her relatives chatting animatedly about the latest family fiasco, she wondered if one of them was lying about hiring the aide. It should be easy enough to discover if the woman had come from a service. Maybe she’d left a receipt in Polly’s room. I’ll have to get in there later, after things quiet down. Among other items, Marla needed to obtain Polly’s checkbook. Since her name was on the account, she’d have to pay any final bills. More importantly, she wanted to locate the letters her aunt had mentioned. Perhaps they gave a clue to Polly’s illness, but that made sense only if they were recent. No doubt about it, she needed access to Polly’s personal belongings.
“If the police don’t pursue an investigation, I suppose someone will have to pack Polly’s things,” she addressed the assembly. “I’d like to help.”
Anita’s expression showed relief. “You’re her closest niece. That makes sense. If you can handle those details, I’ll plan the memorial service. Moishe, what about you?”
The older gent cleared his throat. “We’re flying home to Denver on Sunday. We’ve already paid our regards to Polly by being here for this reunion.”
“I see,” Anita said coldly. “William?”
“I can’t stay for the funeral. We have a flight to catch, too, and I have appointments next week. We’ll attend in spirit. You’ll have enough nieces and nephews to make a minyan if you allow women to participate in the prayer circle.”
“I’m Reform these days,” Anita told them. She glanced at Marla, her scornful look telling her daughter what she thought about her siblings.
“Hey, Marla,” called Joan. “Does this mean we’re calling off the treasure hunt?”
A barrage of inquiries followed, and Marla felt compelled to explain the situation to those who hadn’t heard about it earlier. “Polly told me about a stash of gemstones that Andrew kept as his source of wealth. She seemed to believe some are still hidden on the resort grounds. I’m guessing Aunt Polly returned here every year in order to search for them.”
“Oh, cool,” squealed one of the younger cousins. “Do you think that’s what those two strangers were after, the ones who met with Andrew the night he died?”
“Could be.” She shoved her half-eaten plate of food aside. “You can look for the precious stones. I have better things to do.” Feeling a crushing need for privacy, she murmured farewells before exiting outdoors into the waning afternoon sun.
Once alone, she inhaled a deep breath of warm ocean air. Being surrounded by relatives all weekend was beginning to take its toll, along with the tragedy of Polly’s death. She needed time by
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