Ellen Hart Presents Malice Domestic 15: Mystery Most Theatrical. Karen Cantwell
the party start?”
Alicia inspected the grass again. “One o’clock.”
Marian whirled as Rollie walked up. “You said the party started at two.”
He took the last piece of cake, a smile fluttering on his lips.
“Nana Marian!” Benjy barreled into her and clamped his arms around her knees. Marian scratched his head. “Hello, birthday buddy!”
She held up the package, wrapped in a crowd of shiny Spider-Men.
“Gift opening is later.” Rollie snatched the present. “Benjy, play with your guests.” Rollie tipped back his Orioles cap. “Marian, how about if we host your birthday party next week?”
“I’m too old for birthday parties. Numbers don’t matter as much at my age.”
“You deserve a party. Besides, it was important to Uncle Fred that we keep in touch.” He added, “We’ll make it a casual picnic next Saturday. Come early to see Benjy before Jeffrey comes to play. We’ll start at four, so be here at three.”
“Three o’clock. You’re sure this time?” At Rollie’s nod, Marian said, “I’ll be there. I’m glad Benjy has a play date.”
Rollie paused. “The developer upped his offer for the beach house.”
“Memories are more important than money. You should know, now that you’re a father.” She nodded toward Benjy, who was laughing with a smaller boy.
Rollie released a puff of exasperated air. “That house is sitting vacant most of the time. We could at least rent it out, make some money.”
“I’m going down later this summer. And you, Alicia, and Benjy will come for a week or two, I hope. But you’re right, it’s a good idea to rent it out the rest of the time, so it’s lived in. And watched over.”
Rollie jerked his head back. “Did you actually say I’m right?”
They exchanged a look bordering on a smile before Rollie called the boys to the piñata. His baseball cap slid down, nearly landing on his sunglasses. He tipped it back and handed the bat to Benjy.
“Go ahead, son. You get the first hit.”
“Don’t wanna!”
“You need to learn to hit. Remember that Orioles game I took you to? Swing like that.”
Benjy’s face scrunched. The bat slid from his fingers.
Rollie grabbed the bat and gave it to a chunky boy who clenched his jaw and stepped into the swing, sending bits of orange onto the grass. A flurry of blows followed, crumbling the paper dog and releasing a spray of candy chased by all the boys except Benjy, who ran to Marian.
Marian wiped his nose with a pinch of her fingers. “Alicia, you have to do something.”
Alicia darted a glance at Rollie, who was cheerleading the candy chase. She spoke in near-perfect imitation of him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
* * * *
Sally’s elbow jabbed my ribs.
“Ouch! Sally, I’m trying to watch the play.”
“It’s boring. The prince is crazy.”
“Is he really?” I pointed to Hamlet, who was talking with the actors about to perform for the king:
HAMLET: Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,
Come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion
And ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb,
Lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you,
Must show fairly outward, should more appear like
Entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my
uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
GUILDENSTERN: In what, my dear lord?
HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
I whispered, “See? Hamlet knows what he’s doing.” Sally paid no attention.
* * * *
Rollie and Alicia’s house: “Some quantity of barren spectators”
At three o’clock, Marian trotted up Rollie’s sidewalk as the windy warning of a distant storm swayed the lawn’s lone sapling. She scratched her head, spiking sweaty strands at odd angles, and rang the bell.
Rollie opened the door. “Marian, we were worried. You’re an hour late for your own party.”
She checked her silver watch. “I’m right on time. Three o’clock.”
Rollie rubbed her back as she stepped inside, his sweaty hand bunching her blouse. “The party started at two.” He gestured toward a gathering of onlookers with hoisted wine glasses.
“You said come at three.”
“All right, Marian. We’re just glad you’re safe. No smoking, Joe,” he told a man lifting a cigarette.
Rollie rubbed a puckered dot on his elbow before giving Marian a quick kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday.”
She stared at his chin, so like Fred’s. “Thank you.”
Rollie ushered Marian through the crowd. She plucked dirt off her khaki skirt as they angled past a wreath of women in linen dresses, the yellow linen telling the lavender, “You wouldn’t think they could mess up Mozart.”
Rollie steered Marian around a cluster of laughing men to the makeshift bar, where a row of bottles faced an army of glasses. Rollie engaged a bottle and glass in a skirmish, and handed Marian a glass of white wine. “Nice watch.”
“You’ve seen it before.”
Two middle-aged women ambled up as thunder rumbled in the distance.
“These women are from my office,” Rollie said. “This is my Aunt Marian, the birthday girl. Doesn’t she look lovely?”
The taller woman took in Marian’s denim shirt and flyaway hair with a swift glance. “Wonderful,” she said in the tone Sally had recently adopted.
That tone followed Marian like a mist as she nibbled cucumber sandwich triangles and listened to debates about whether the storm would head their way. When she started to slice a piece of Brie, a squat woman in a sundress offered to do it for her. When Marian headed to the powder room, Cindy said, “I’ll wait outside.”
“I know how to use a bathroom.”
As Marian left the powder room, a man approached with a somber expression. “Excuse me, ma’am?” His shirt tented his belly. “Fred and I used to go fishing at Deep Creek Lake. We lost touch a while ago, but he was a decent man and I’m sure sorry he’s gone.”
Marian smiled and accepted his outstretched hand. “Thank you for remembering him.” Their hands clasped for a moment before he shuffled away.
She stared at the hardwood floor, covering her sniffles with a cupped palm. A ceramic cup intruded into view.
“I got you tea.” Rollie’s voice. “Wartberry or something.”
“Whortleberry. I can get my own tea.”
“I’m trying to be nice.”
Marian took the cup and sipped the watery tea until Rollie walked away. Then she tucked the cup behind an empty glass and headed onto the lawn where Benjy and Jeffrey were crashing trucks. Benjy revved his green truck, holding one blistered thumb in the air. A mark ran, ruler-straight, between the puckered burn and the undamaged skin below.
Marian