To read Part One, please click here.
A scream filled the air.
The gardener, Ralph, raced up the stairs to find Mrs. Axton rocking back and forth beside her sister’s body. He had never seen Mrs. Axton let out so much as a drop of vulnerability, and now she was barely able to remain upright.
Ralph recalled having heard a rustling outside, so he turned to the window and scanned the garden.
The housekeeper was leaning over a clump of dill.
It wasn’t unusual for Josephine to harvest food from the garden, but under the circumstances Ralph found it suspicious. In a flash, his mind arrived at a chilling conclusion: it must have been her.
Ralph made his way downstairs.
Outside, in the garden, Josephine noticed a figure behind a nearby bush.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Josephine approached the bush to find the shivering wreck of the cook.
“Vera? What happened?”
“I didn’t mean to do it, Jo.”
“Do what?”
“I was in my room. She burst in.”
“Who?” Josephine prodded.
“Her sister.”
“Mrs. Axton’s sister? Why would she barge in?”
“She overheard me on the phone. Talking.”
“With who?”
“Please, Jo. I don’t want to make things any worse than they already are.”
In the distance, Ralph could be heard bellowing “I know what you did!”
“What’s going on?” Josephine asked Vera.
“We got into an argument. It got physical.”
“Oh, dear.”
Ralph, closer: “Murderess!”
Vera recoiled. Murderess? Mrs. Axton's sister had died?
Ralph, closer still: “Josephine!”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” cried Josephine.
The two women — one distrusted, the other guilty — fled to a secluded spot and settled on a story. There was an intruder. He broke into Vera’s room, where she had been consulting with Mrs. Axton’s sister about an upcoming menu. Josephine caught a glimpse of him making his escape: medium height, medium build. Nothing to go on, really.
Mrs. Axton accepted their account. So did Ralph, who apologized to Josephine for his gruesome accusation.
The next day, Vera packed her things and headed downstairs to speak with Mrs. Axton.
“I’m going back to Wisconsin,” Vera announced.
Mrs. Axton responded with a blank stare.
“I’m sorry,” offered Vera. “It’s too much for me to handle. Being here. And I’m sorry about your sister. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not paying you for last week,” Mrs. Axton said. “I don’t pay people who don’t give notice.”
Vera jumped at a noise. It was Congressman Axton at the front door, returning early from Cincinnati to be with his wife.
“I should go,” Vera said.
Vera moved slowly to the door and whispered a few things to Congressman Axton, who responded with a hug.
Mrs. Axton studied their goodbye. The whispers were too quiet, and the hug went on too long.
She sat herself down, poured some champagne, and put on her beloved Vivaldi.
Then Mrs. Axton shut her eyes, succumbing to the music and the afternoon sun.
The gardener, Ralph, raced up the stairs to find Mrs. Axton rocking back and forth beside her sister’s body. He had never seen Mrs. Axton let out so much as a drop of vulnerability, and now she was barely able to remain upright.
Ralph recalled having heard a rustling outside, so he turned to the window and scanned the garden.
The housekeeper was leaning over a clump of dill.
It wasn’t unusual for Josephine to harvest food from the garden, but under the circumstances Ralph found it suspicious. In a flash, his mind arrived at a chilling conclusion: it must have been her.
Ralph made his way downstairs.
Outside, in the garden, Josephine noticed a figure behind a nearby bush.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Josephine approached the bush to find the shivering wreck of the cook.
“Vera? What happened?”
“I didn’t mean to do it, Jo.”
“Do what?”
“I was in my room. She burst in.”
“Who?” Josephine prodded.
“Her sister.”
“Mrs. Axton’s sister? Why would she barge in?”
“She overheard me on the phone. Talking.”
“With who?”
“Please, Jo. I don’t want to make things any worse than they already are.”
In the distance, Ralph could be heard bellowing “I know what you did!”
“What’s going on?” Josephine asked Vera.
“We got into an argument. It got physical.”
“Oh, dear.”
Ralph, closer: “Murderess!”
Vera recoiled. Murderess? Mrs. Axton's sister had died?
Ralph, closer still: “Josephine!”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” cried Josephine.
The two women — one distrusted, the other guilty — fled to a secluded spot and settled on a story. There was an intruder. He broke into Vera’s room, where she had been consulting with Mrs. Axton’s sister about an upcoming menu. Josephine caught a glimpse of him making his escape: medium height, medium build. Nothing to go on, really.
Mrs. Axton accepted their account. So did Ralph, who apologized to Josephine for his gruesome accusation.
The next day, Vera packed her things and headed downstairs to speak with Mrs. Axton.
“I’m going back to Wisconsin,” Vera announced.
Mrs. Axton responded with a blank stare.
“I’m sorry,” offered Vera. “It’s too much for me to handle. Being here. And I’m sorry about your sister. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not paying you for last week,” Mrs. Axton said. “I don’t pay people who don’t give notice.”
Vera jumped at a noise. It was Congressman Axton at the front door, returning early from Cincinnati to be with his wife.
“I should go,” Vera said.
Vera moved slowly to the door and whispered a few things to Congressman Axton, who responded with a hug.
Mrs. Axton studied their goodbye. The whispers were too quiet, and the hug went on too long.
She sat herself down, poured some champagne, and put on her beloved Vivaldi.
Then Mrs. Axton shut her eyes, succumbing to the music and the afternoon sun.