Ellen Hart Presents Malice Domestic 15: Mystery Most Theatrical. Karen Cantwell
and say, “You are.” I might only be his great-aunt, by marriage, but with both his grandmothers dead, I stole the nickname.
The lights dimmed. I turned off my phone and the audience rustled into place.
Sally whispered, “So old people play all the parts?”
I bit my lip. She was barely ten years younger than me. “All the actors live at Sunset.”
Stage lights brightened, revealing a cardboard castle and a weathered man in a guard’s outfit. He shouted, “Who’s there?”
A second guard entered. “Nay, answer me: stand and unfold yourself.”
* * * *
Rollie and Alicia’s house: “A plentiful lack of wit”
Marian eased a dusty Taurus into the driveway of a Colonial just shy of a cul-de-sac lollipop, and grabbed the roses gathered from her garden. The petals hovered on the cusp of full bloom, and dirt still clung to the stems. The sugary scent tickled Marian’s nose as Alicia led her to the dining room where Marian put the roses in a crystal vase, pinching a thorn that attacked the buds of her fingers as it died. She set the vase of defanged roses on the table and rubbed her fingers in satisfaction. Benjy’s hands would be safe.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, Benjy thundered across the room in Spider-Man pajamas, squealing at the painful pitch children wield.
“Nana Marian!” He leaped onto Marian, who took the blow with a gasp before wrapping him in a hug. As soon as she released him, Benjy reached for the roses.
Rollie plopped the vase on the sideboard. “Flowers are for girls.”
Benjy whimpered. Rollie advanced a step. The whimper jumped an octave.
“Your uncle planted that rosebush.” Marian pulled Benjy to her.
“They’re in the way. I want to see our guests.”
“What are your friends’ names?”
“Alicia, put Benjy to bed,” Rollie yelled. “They’ll be here any minute.”
“I’ll do it,” Marian said, tucking Benjy’s tag into his shirt. “We have our bedtime routine.”
They trotted upstairs to Benjy’s room, where the carpet was spotless and the dresser was dust-free. The one spot of clutter was a bookshelf crammed with Dr. Seuss books, a gold piggy bank, and a variety of plastic trucks and stuffed animals. One brave dolphin had plummeted onto the carpet, lying in the middle of a vacuum mark like a swimmer staying in its lane.
Benjy scooted under the covers. Marian tucked in the sheets and tousled his bunny-soft hair with small curls just like Fred’s. She remembered walking up to Fred in the garden store, saying, “Your hair looks like curly parsley.” Fred’s face crinkled. “That’s the best pickup line I’ve ever gotten.” Even after cancer balded him, Marian still thought of Fred with those curls.
After three rounds of “You Are My Sunshine,” Benjy reached under his bed, pulled out a yellow truck, and stretched it toward her. “For Spider-Nana.”
Marian took the dump truck, its flapping bed blocked by a bulge. “What happened?”
He buried his face in his pillow.
“Benjy, what’s wrong?”
The pillow muffled his answer. “Daddy broke it. I was a bad boy.”
Marian combed his hair with shaky fingers. “You’re not a bad boy. You’re the best boy in the world.” She lifted him to her. “You’re Spider-Boy. And Spider-Nana won’t let anything happen to her precious Spider-Boy.”
Once Benjy fell asleep, Marian raced to the dining room and confronted Rollie, who was uncorking a Pinot Noir. “You smashed his truck.”
Rollie inspected the cork. “He’s my son. Don’t tell me what to do.”
The doorbell rang, and Marian said, “What are your friends’ names? You haven’t told me anything about them.”
Rollie disappeared, reappearing with a stylish couple wearing shades of tan, the woman’s turquoise necklace bright against the neutral palette.
“Marian, these are the friends I told you about.”
“I like your necklace,” Marian said. “I didn’t catch your names?”
The pair tossed each other a smile. “Bill and Cindy,” the man said.
Rollie shook his head. “My aunt forgets things sometimes.”
“I didn’t forget. You never told me their names.”
Rollie patted her shoulder. “Dear Marian.”
After wine and conversation about the warm weather and a new movie, Alicia brought out the food, refusing Marian’s offer to help. Alicia’s pink tee and white jeans draped her skeletal frame as she trotted back and forth.
When Alicia put down a platter of chicken and mushrooms, Rollie announced, “Poulet de Normandie.”
“Norman chicken?” Marian said. Rollie scowled. Bill chuckled.
While platters circled the table, Bill reminisced about college. “Rollie took dibs on everything. I got stuck with the bottom drawers and the top bunk.”
“Just watching out for number one. But I took care of you, too.”
“That econ exam.” Rollie and Bill exchanged an amused glance.
Bill lifted his wine glass. “We had fun, didn’t we, buddy?”
Rollie released a rare grin. “Those were great days.” Alicia’s shoulders relaxed and she took her first bite of chicken.
Rollie leaned toward Bill, his eyes crinkling. “I’m about to get a promotion.”
“You’ll be a big shot, huh? I knew you when.” Both men chuckled, the women smiled, and Bill took a large helping of potatoes.
Silverware clinked. Cindy said, “This chicken is delicious. You’ve outdone yourself, Alicia.”
“Thank you.” Alicia stared at her food. Beneath the scaffold of her ribs, her waist seemed barely wider than the green bean she pushed around her plate.
“What’s its name again?” Bill asked. “Something French.”
“Poulet de Normandie.” Rollie rolled the words around before spitting them out.
“Now that you’re a big shot, I guess you have to eat French food.” Bill pointed his knife at his plate. “It’s good, though.”
“Norman’s thigh is especially tender,” Marian said.
“Pass the green beans?” Cindy said.
As Alicia handed her the platter, a drop of sauce spilled. Alicia wiped it quickly with a napkin as Rollie glared.
Cindy said. “We have spills all the time at our house.”
“Not in this house,” Rollie said.
“Do you have children?” Marian asked.
“Jeffrey’s four, just a few months older than Benjy,” Cindy said. “They play together.”
“Marian, don’t be jealous.” Rollie turned to Bill. “She adores Benjy, especially since Uncle Fred died. They never had kids of their own.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Cindy said to Marian.
“Thank you.” An unchewed new potato scratched Marian’s throat as it went down. “This is my first summer without him.” She clasped her hands under the table.
Rollie leaned back. “Since we’re on the subject of Benjy, let’s talk about the beach