Sad Victory

First published in FUTURES MAGAZINE, February/March 2002
http://www.fmam.biz

Synopsis: Edwina figures someone is out to kill her. She may not be able to stop them, but she sure can prevent them from gaining from her death.

"That girl is here to see you," Hortense announced as she came into the sitting room.

Edwina looked up from the letter she was writing. "You mean my niece, Cynthia?"

"Yes, that's her."

"She," Edwina muttered. "Tell her I'll be right down. Prepare us some tea, will you?"

"Tea? You want tea? I suppose you want cakes with that?" Hortense nodded her large head and shuffled out of the room, her black taffeta dress rustling. "Let them eat cake," she muttered as she left.

Edwina put her pen down. Hortense was supposed to take care of her. Edwina wondered how much longer it would be before she would have to do something about the woman who had been in her service for over fifty years. Her's and Margaret's. God, she missed Margaret. Edwina sighed and stood up.

Making her way carefully down the long staircase where Margaret had plunged to her death only two months ago, Edwina stopped for a moment at the bottom to catch her breath.

Maybe she should have an elevator installed, as Cynthia had suggested during her last visit.

Breathing heavily, Edwina went to the front parlor where her niece sat primly on the sage velvet Harlow chair. Cynthia got up when her great-aunt entered the room, but Edwina waved her back to her seat.

Sitting down gratefully in the Isadora chair opposite her niece, Edwina tried to catch her breath. She really needed to lose some weight. Her one weakness, which she abhorred, was overeating.

"Are you all right, Aunt Edwina?" Hazel eyes gazed at her guilelessly, fine brow wrinkled slightly, mouth downturned just a tad. Edwina always had a hard time imagining her being a nurse. She looked too delicate.

"Yes, I'm all right," Edwina snapped. She hated anyone to ask about her health. "What do you want?"

"Why . . . why, I just wanted to see you. See if you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay." Her mouth twisted around the slang word disagreeably.

Cynthia looked away from Edwina, her eyes staring at the fox hunt painting on the south wall. She gave a little sigh, then looked back at Edwina with those fine hazel eyes. "Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like to go shopping, perhaps?"

"No, child. My year of mourning isn't up."

"You're going to wait a whole year?" Cynthia asked, her tone appalled.

"Certainly," Edwina replied. "Just as we did for your dear father, so many years ago."

Hortense wheeled in the tea cart laden with teapot, cups and saucers, cookies, cakes and tiny sandwiches. Her white apron was askew, her grey hair wild.

"Shall I pour, Aunt?" Cynthia asked.

Edwina nodded. "You may go now, Hortense," she told the housekeeper.

Hortense shuffled out muttering, "This too shall pass."

"Whatever does she mean?" Cynthia asked, pouring tea.

"I have no earthly idea. She's getting old."

Cynthia handed Edwina her tea. "Aunt, she is old."

Edwina sighed, took a sip of tea and said, "I know. Two years younger than I, though."

"Really?" Cynthia said. "I was sure you were the younger one."

"Because of my svelte figure, no doubt," Edwina said drily. Cynthia's lips twitched. "No, Aunt. Because of your unlined face."

"Ah! "

"I do have something to tell you."

Edwina quirked her eyebrows questioningly.

"I'm getting married. To James."

"Really, now, must you?" Edwina set down her tea cup and frowned at her niece.

"What do you mean?" Cynthia blushed. "No, of course, I don't have to. I mean, I want to marry James."

"Whatever for?"

Abruptly, Cynthia stood up. "I love him, Aunt Edwina. I've loved him for a long time."

"And he loves you, I suppose," Edwina said sarcastically. "Sit down."

Cynthia sat. "Yes, he loves me."

"Listen, child, I want you think about this for a moment. You've been seeing James for how long? Four years? And suddenly he proposes. Why do you think he did that?" When Cynthia started to answer, Edwina held up her hand. "Maybe because you stand to inherit some money soon? With Margaret gone--"

"Please, Aunt, don't even think it. James isn't like that."

"Yes, he is. If you marry him, I shall change my will and make your brother sole heir."

Cynthia began to cry.

"Tell him that, and see if he still wants to marry you. If he does, we'll talk about this later." Edwina stood up and swept out of the room, leaving Cynthia sobbing behind her.

* * * * *

At dinner that evening, Edwina chewed her roast beef thoughtfully while she washed it down with a red good wine. Rain lashed at the undraped windows. Edwina got a perverse thrill from watching it and the lightning. Every boom of thunder made her smile. When Hortense brought in chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream with coffee for dessert, Edwina said, "Cynthia plans to marry James, as you probably already know."

Hortense sniffed.

"What's your opinion of James, Hortense?"

"Kissed the girls and made them cry."

"Exactly. As I'm sure you heard, I told her to inform him that she would lose her inheritance by marrying him. What do you think he'll do?"

"Wave goodbye," Hortense said, picking up the empty dishes and heading for the kitchen.

"Precisely," Edwina said as she took the last sip of her decaf. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed.

Sure that Hortense was working in the kitchen, Edwina walked to her downstairs office and picked up the two-foot-high statue of Winged Victory. She unscrewed the bottom and checked the contents. The thick, stapled-together and folded-into-thirds papers were still there. The doorbell startled her, and she almost dropped the heavy statue. She quickly put the bottom on and set Victory back on her pedestal.

Hortense shuffled to the front door. After a few minutes she entered the parlor.

"That boy here to see you," Hortense announced.

"You mean my nephew, Geoffrey?"

Hortense nodded.

"Send him in. And bring chocolates and brandy, will you, Hortense?"

"Brew of the devil," Hortense said as she turned away.

"Aunt Edwina!" Geoffrey exclaimed as he entered the room. He smelled of the rain. "How are you?"

"Tolerable, Geoffrey." She allowed him to kiss her cheek. "Sit down. What brings you out on this terrible night?"

"I have good news," Geoffrey announced, placing himself carefully on the York chair. He crossed his legs elegantly, tugging on the crease of his trousers to prevent wrinkling. A few drops of rain glistened on his golden hair.

"You're not getting married?" Edwina asked, her lips compressing into a tight line.

"Yes. How did you guess?"

"It seems to be going around," she said dryly. "Who is the lucky bride?"

"You remember Regina?"

Edwina nodded. She recalled a tiny little woman with brassy blonde hair in tight, frizzy curls, nice even features, and a figure that was disgraceful. No hips, and huge breasts. Totally unsuitable for childbirth.

"She agreed to marry me today at lunch. Isn't it wonderful?"

Hortense came in with a tray which held a bottle of brandy and some truffles on a silver server. She set it down on the tea cart.

"Hortense, this bottle is dusty," Edwina said.

Hortense grabbed the offending object and studied it a moment. "Cleanliness is next to godliness," she murmured and wiped the bottle with her apron, then set it back down.

"Thank you, Hortense, for both the food and drink and the pithy words," Edwina said. "You may go now."

"Good night, sweet prince," Hortense said as she left the room.

Both Edwina and Geoffrey shook their heads. "Poor dear," Edwina said. "I'm afraid her eyesight isn't what it used to be." She took a chocolate and bit into it. "Will you pour the brandy, please?"

As he poured, Geoffrey asked, "Aren't you happy for me, Aunt? About marrying Regina?"

"Not really," Edwina said, accepting a glass of brandy. "She's an appalling little thing, you know. Probably after your money."

"Aunt Edwina!" Geoffrey exclaimed, standing up abruptly, almost overturning the tea cart. "How can you say such a thing?"

"Easily, Geoffrey, easily. Sit down." Thunder rolled. "Tell her you're disinherited if you marry her, and see what her reaction to that is." Edwina stood up and took the last sip of her brandy. "I'm sure you won't be able to keep her in the style she'd like to become accustomed to on a banker's salary."

"Aunt, you can't mean it!" Geoffrey cried.

"I do, though. Good night, Geoffrey." Thunder clapped.

Edwina climbed the stairs slowly and went to her room. As she undressed, she thought of Thatcher. He'd proposed again last night. She'd turned him down, as always. As she got into her lonely bed, she wondered why. Thatcher was a thin, elegant man of about sixty. She loved him, but she didn't trust him. What did he see in a woman, almost ten years older than he, who outweighed him by sixty or seventy pounds? Many times she'd thought of testing him, telling him that her money was running out. Would he disappear at the news? How could she give her niece and nephew that advice and not follow it herself? She resolved that in the morning, she'd tell Thatcher she'd soon be penniless.

* * * * *

After Hortense poured each of them their second glass of champagne and cleared their breakfast dishes the next morning, she left the back porch. Edwina turned to Thatcher and raised her glass in a toast.

"To us. Thatcher, I've decided to marry you."

"What? Oh, darling, that's marvelous!" He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I have some bad news along with the good." She gave him a coquettish look.

Thatcher frowned. "What's that, love?"

"This is so embarrassing. You see, I'm about out of money. It'll all be gone in a year. But you have enough for both of us, don't you, dear? And to keep Hortense on, of course."

Thatcher blanched. "Of . . . of course. But how could all your money be gone? I mean, Ward Winston is your financial adviser, isn't he?"

"Yes. But, you see, foolish me, I don't always follow Ward's advice. I like to go off on my own sometimes, take a flyer, you know."

"Really, Edwina. That's not prudent."

"I know, I know." She ducked her head modestly. She felt a little sick, as if she'd really lost her money and was depending on dear old dependable Thatcher to rescue her.

Thatcher threw back the rest of his champagne and stood up. "I'm sorry, love, I must run. I have an important appointment. I'll call you soon." He bent down and pecked her on the cheek. Then he left at a much faster walk than usual.

Somehow, Edwina thought that would be the last she ever saw of Thatcher. She felt her heart sink. Hortense came to clear the breakfast dishes. "Easy come, easy go," she remarked.

"Yes," Edwina said. The brightness of the storm-washed morning dimmed.

The phone rang, and she picked it up.

"Aunt Edwina?" Cynthia asked, her voice thick. "I talked to James."

"Really. What did he say?" Edwina demanded.

"He . . . he told me he'd changed his mind. He said . . . he said he had a job offer on the west coast, and he's decided to take it." Cynthia's sobs came clearly over the phone, reverberating in Edwina's own heart. She thought of Thatcher. But she was old and cynical. She'd expected it from Thatcher. And James. But Cynthia was shocked as well as heartbroken.

"Cynthia, child, you'll find someone else. Someone worthy of you. You're a beautiful girl. And soon to be rich, no doubt. Don't you see that you're better off?"

"I suppose so," Cynthia said, sniffing. "What do you mean, I'll soon be rich? Aunt, you're not ill, are you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. But I assume that whoever murdered Margaret will soon do me in, also."

Cynthia gasped. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't believe it to be an accident, now did you? Tripping over a basket, indeed. Why did she have that basket upstairs at all? It always sat on the foyer floor. You know that. And no one saw it happen, even though everyone was in the house--you and James, Geoffrey and Regina, Hortense, Thatcher, and me. No, I'm sure someone pushed dear Margaret. Or two someones together."

Silence hummed along the telephone wire. Finally Cynthia said faintly, "But Aunt, it could have been an accident. Really."

"No, I'm positive it was murder. That's why I'm eliminating everyone from the possibility of inheriting that I can. If I die in my sleep, you'll know it wasn't your brother who killed poor Margaret."

"What do you mean?"

"I have dispatched Thatcher. Your James has left you. I am sure that Regina will soon join them as ex-potential marriage partners for our family. That leaves you and Geoffry to inherit. If I die an unnatural death, one of you did it. If you know you didn't, you know who did."

Edwina could hear Cynthia swallow. "You're going to tell Geoffry this?"

"Of course. A little insurance on my life. I have no desire to die any time soon."

"No, no, of course not," Cynthia murmured. "I'd better go now, Aunt Edwina. I need to clean my apartment."

"Of course. Thank you for calling with the news."

"Yes. Yes. I'll come by later, Aunt. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, dear," Edwina said and hung up the phone.

Hortense came outside to refill Edwina's coffee cup. "Each woman's death diminishes me," she remarked as she walked away.

An hour or so later, Edwina heard the faint ring of the doorbell. Probably Geoffrey, she thought.

He came bursting through the porch door before Hortense could announce him. "You were right, Aunt. Regina has left me. I never thought . . . " He ran his hand through his thatch of blond hair and flopped down onto a metal porch chair.

Edwina felt no sense of satisfaction. Three out of three. Well, she'd always been an excellent judge of character.

"You're not at all surprised, are you?" Geoffry asked her.

"I'm afraid not, dear. Now listen, I have something important to discuss with you. You remember when dear Margaret plunged down those stairs to her death."

"Of course," Geoffrey answered, looking puzzled.

"Well, I know that was not an accident." She explained it all as she had to Cynthia.

He protested.

She prevailed. "So, you see, we have removed Regina, James, and Thatcher--he declined to marry me after I told him I'd be penniless in a year." At Geoffrey's shocked look, she said, "No, no, the fortune is intact. You know I only spend the interest. That leaves you and Cynthia to inherit. Therefore, if I die unnaturally or suspiciously, you can be prettysure your pretty sister had something to do with it. And if you do the dirty deed, she'll know you did it."

Geoffry looked at her in amazement. "You can't believe that one of us--"

"No, no, of course not. That's why I worked so hard to eliminate the other three from the equation." She smiled at him. "I'm sure I'll live a long, long life now. Of course, I know that your sister has run up some appalling credit card debt. And you, dear Geoffrey, really need to stay away from the race track."

Geoffrey paled.

Edwina sighed. "I suppose you need a loan." She stood up and walked heavily towards her office, knowing her nephew would follow.

Sitting behind the old oak desk inlaid with leather, she took her checkbook from the middle drawer. "How much this time, Geoffrey?"

"Really, Aunt, I don't need any."

Hortense entered the room. "That girl to see you," she announced.

"Cynthia?" Edwina asked.

Before Hortense could answer, Cynthia came into the room, her pale cheeks flushed. "Could I have a glass of water, Hortense?" she asked.

"Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink," Hortense muttered as she left the room.

Geoffrey moved quickly around the desk and stood behind Edwina while Cynthia opened her large purse and removed a hugh hypodermic needle.

Before Edwina could react, Geoffrey grabbed her arms as Cynthia approached. "This won't hurt. Just some nice air bubbles to ease you on your way. Sorry, Auntie, but we've had enough of your running our lives."

As Cynthia plunged the needle into her arm, Edwina sighed with resignation. She'd suspected, but hoped she was wrong. That's why she'd written the will leaving a dollar each to Cynthia and Geoffrey, and the rest of her estate to Hortense. Now she only had to let Hortense know about the Winged Victory without tipping her hand to Cynthia and Geoffrey.

Cynthia slipped the needle back into her purse, and she and her brother walked around to the other side of the desk as Hortense came back with the glass of water.

"O death! where is thy sting?" Edwina gasped.

Hortense gave her a look of comprehension as she handed Cynthia the glass. "O grave! where is thy victory?" she finished the quote.

Edwina saw Hortense glance at the Winged Victory statue as her vision faded to black.

THE END