Murder under a blue moon, p.9
Murder Under a Blue Moon, page 9
“I’m sorry, Hugh, but we’re filled up. I see empty seats in the grandstand though,” Mona said, hoping Hugh would take the hint.
“Nonsense,” Melanie said, giving Mona an irritated look. “Hugh always sits in our box. Sit here, Hugh, next to me.”
There were two rows of five seats in the box with Hugh, Melanie, Miles and Dexter sitting in the lower seats while Mona, Jetta, and Willie sat above them.
“Mimi, come girl,” Melanie said, beckoning.
Mimi threw a hesitant look at Mona.
“Melanie, let Mimi sit next to me. I want to ask her about the party last night.”
“Yes, Mother, let me. I so want to talk about the guests with Mona.”
“All right then. More room for us.”
As Mona stood to let Mimi pass to an empty chair, she saw Jamison waiting against a back aisle wall. She beckoned and slipped him several dollars. “Go have fun, Jamison, but be back in three hours.”
“Yes’am.”
“And be sober.”
Jamison said, “I never drink on the job, Miss.”
“Jamison?”
“Just a little swig now and then. Keeps the cold out.”
“Run along now. Remember to be back in three hours, Jamison.”
Jamison tipped his hat before rushing off. “Thank you, Miss Mona.”
Hugh turned around in his seat. “You shouldn’t give servants money like that. It only encourages them.”
“Shut up. No one asked you,” Mona said. It made her furious when working people were disparaged. She had worked since she was fourteen and knew how the rich elevated themselves by denigrating the poor.
Melanie offered her opinion. “Hugh’s right, Mona. They’re never grateful. How much did you give Jamison? A couple of dollars, wasn’t it? Too much for his kind.”
Mona wanted to slap the hat off Melanie’s head but refrained from doing so. She sat seething. “You do what you want with your money, and I’ll do what I want with mine. Okay, Melanie?”
“Yes, but it sets a bad example for the rest of us. Servants talk, and pretty soon my help will be wanting little extras here and there.”
Mona felt Jetta stiffen beside her and reached over to pat her hand. “Don’t,” she cautioned. “They’re not worth your indignation.”
Willie hiccupped, and quipped, “Melanie, why don’t you wear one of those pins the Fascists are wearing in Europe now.”
“Are you calling me a Red, you—you old lush?”
“Communists and Fascists are on different sides of the fence, honey. If you ever picked up a newspaper, you would know that. Tell me, do you still read with your lips moving?”
“You’re ridiculous, Willie. You know that? You’re turning into the town drunk. Everyone feels sorry for poor Dexter.”
“Melanie, I’ll be sober in the morning, but you’ll still have the mind of a simpering teen in a sagging middle-aged body.”
“I still have my looks.”
Willie jabbed Hugh in the back of his shoulder with the toe of her shoe “Ha! Then why is your Don Juan diddling every fresh flower he comes across including last night? He took off with someone to the summer cottage. I saw them, and she looked awfully young. I just can’t remember who it was? Do you, Mimi?”
Melanie jumped to her feet and swirled around, lunging at Willie or Mimi. It was hard to tell as the two were sitting next to each other. Maybe it was both.
Dexter grabbed Melanie around the waist as she struggled to slap Willie who was cackling with laughter.
Miles remained seated, paying no attention to his mother, sipping on his Coca-Cola. He was used to his mother’s outbursts and was bored by them.
Mortified, Mona closed her eyes. People were gawking. She just knew it, and on the day after her triumphant entrance into Kentucky society.
“Hello. Is something amiss here?”
Mona opened her eyes to find Lord Farley with an elderly gentleman standing in the aisle next to the Moon box.
Mona stood and calmly acted as though nothing was amiss. She held her hand out to Lord Farley. “Hello. So nice to see you again.” She called over her shoulder. “Melanie, look who’s here. Lord Farley.”
Melanie immediately stopped struggling and snarled to Dexter, “Let go of me.” She patted her hair and gave a simper of a smile. “Lord Farley. Mr. Bradley. Very nice of you to stop by.”
“Are we interrupting something?” Lord Farley asked, looking at a disheveled Melanie with her hat topsy-turvy.
Willie grinned at Melanie like the Cheshire Cat.
“Just the family discussing politics,” Mona deadpanned.
Lord Farley gestured to the man beside him. “May I present Edward Bradley to you, Miss Moon?”
Edward Bradley leaned forward and shook Mona’s hand. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that I missed your little gathering last night, Miss Moon, but I hear it was a success.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bradley,” Mona replied, remembering what Jetta had told her about his being a friend of the legendary lawman, Wyatt Earp.
“I have a horse running in the Derby, and I thought I ought to be near him last night.”
“Which horse is that, sir?”
“Brokers Tip. He hasn’t much of a chance. In fact, he’s never won a race, but you know how it is. A horseman hates not to have a horse running in the Kentucky Derby. I don’t see an entry from Mooncrest Farm.”
“I think my uncle’s illness precluded such business. Perhaps next year, but I wish you the best of luck today, sir.”
“Luck is what I’ll need with this horse. Well, I’ll let you get back to your political discussion. I just wanted to say hello. Good day to you all,” Mr. Bradley said, doffing his hat. He hurried to some friends waving to him.
Lord Farley said, “I must scoot, too. I’m sitting with Ed. Love how you’re donning your hat, Melanie. Is wearing it lopsided on the side of your head the latest fashion?” He tipped his hat. “Enjoy the races, Miss Mona. Chin-chin everyone.”
Mona sank back into her chair. “Oh dear, oh dear!” was all she could think to say. Why did that man always catch her family acting their worst?
However, Willie was not at a loss of words. “Meelaannieee, it seems the Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood have flown the coop.”
“What now?” Melanie screeched, sick of the Deatherages and wishing their car would drive off a cliff on the way home.
“I mean Hugh and Mimi are gone.”
Mona moaned. What else could go wrong?
21
“What are you doing here? Come to gloat?” asked Mona, stepping into her drawing room.
Lord Farley feigned disappointment. “You’re not very nice to me, especially when I’m doing you a favor. I’m going to a celebratory party tonight at Edward Bradley’s home, and I’m allowed to bring a guest. Would you like to come?”
“Why me?”
“Why not you? Oh, for goodness sakes, you don’t have to be suspicious all of the time, and if you show up looking as spectacular as you did at your own fete, everyone will forgive any Moon impropriety at the Derby. Besides after what happened between the jockeys of Brokers Tip and Head Play, no one will remember Melanie thrashing Wilhelmina Deatherage. The papers are calling the race “The Fighting Finish.” A chap from the Courier-Journal snapped a shot of the jockeys flailing each other with their riding crops at the finish line, and it’s on the front page of every newspaper in the country.”
“I understand the fighting continued in the jockeys’ locker room, but I can see why. I’ve never seen a race so close. Brokers Tip won by a nostril at most.”
“If he even won. This race will be argued long after both the owners of Brokers Tip and Head Play are dead. Look, everyone will be there. You must come. Do you have another dress to wear?”
“Of course, I have,” Mona snapped. “I don’t know if I should leave though. Mimi has not been located yet, but keep that under your hat.”
“My lips are sealed, but if I were a betting man, and I am, I should look across the border in Tennessee. That’s where Kentucky couples go to elope.”
“Oh, no.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. It’s white tie tonight, so dress to the nines. I’ll see myself out.”
As soon as Lord Farley left, Mona went into the library and phoned Dexter Deatherage. “Hello, Dexter, this is Mona. Can you send some men to Jellico, Tennessee to search for Mimi? She might be in a love nest there. They must be very discreet. Very. You can? Good. Let me know if you find anything. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Mona hung up wondering if Lord Farley really wanted her as his date. He was a man full of tricks. She needed to be wary of him.
Mona couldn’t think about that now. She had to go over the month’s budget before getting ready for Mr. Bradley’s party. Mona needed to be stunning tonight. She was going to wow everyone’s socks off—including the very smug Lord Farley.
22
“My dear Miss Moon. So nice to see you again.”
“Mr. Bradley, congratulations on your win.”
“It was a very exciting race, was it not?”
“Has your jockey recovered?”
“Minor cuts and abrasions. He’ll live. Bob, glad you could come and bring the beautiful Miss Moon with you.”
“Wouldn’t miss this party for the world. I see you need to greet your other guests, so please excuse us as I wish to trot Mona onto the dance floor.”
“Yes, everyone should see her dress. Quite daring of you, Miss Moon.”
“This is the twentieth century, Mr. Bradley. Corsets have gone the way of the horse and buggy,” Mona replied, referring to her bias-cut satin dress. The backless top was held in place by a strap around her neck. One side was solid white and the other black. The skirt hugged the hips and flared out at the ankles, showing off sparkly sandals. A black and white shawl around the hips provided some modesty. It was a dress meant to elicit excitement.
“A damn shame, too,” Mr. Bradley said, laughing while gaping at Mona. “Go on, young people. Enjoy yourselves. Wish I was twenty years younger though. I’d give Bob a run for his money.”
Lord Farley led Mona to the dance floor and twirled her about, his hand resting on her bare back.
“The great Lord Farley permits people to call him Bob?”
“Oh, shut up and dance.”
“What’s your full name?”
“I know your full name is Madeline Mona Moon. How come you don’t have people refer to you as Madeline?”
“Because as a little girl, my playmates shortened it to Maddy which rhymes with paddy, and the teasing never stopped. Now it’s my turn. Why is an English lord mingling amongst the peasants? Did you get caught dillydallying with a duke’s wife? Steal charity funds from a parish church?”
“You’ve caught me. I’m guilty of both.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Give it up. You’re being a pest.”
“Name, sir, or I will cause a scene.”
“That seems to be a Moon specialty.”
Mona stepped on his foot.
“Golly, you’re such a devil. All right. If you insist, my full name is Lawrence Robert Emerton Dagobert Farley.”
Mona laughed. “Dagobert. How pretentious. Do you think you are a descendant from the Merovingian kings?”
“As a matter of fact, I am a descendant of the Merovingian line, or at least, my family claims to be.”
“No wonder you go by Bob Farley. I’ll just call you Farley.”
“At least I’m not called Dick.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Now tell me why the Moons only use names beginning with the letter M,” Farley asked.
“My paternal great grandmother was told by a fortune teller that wealth would remain in the family as long as all the Moon children were given names with the letter M.”
“Hogwash.”
“I agree, but why tempt fate?”
“So tell me, Madeline Mona Moon, what does a lady cartographer do?”
“Same as a male cartographer. I’ve mapped out areas for exploring expeditions and archeological adventures—that type of thing. I’ve even worked on proposed dams and roads.”
“So you’re basically a surveyor.”
“It’s a little more involved than that. I make maps and charts for others to use.”
“Miss the excitement?”
“I miss the exploring, but it was hard, boring work with bad food, beastly weather, and uncooperative male assistants.”
“With your money, you can underwrite your own expeditions to anywhere in the world. You might even find King Solomon’s mines.”
“You’re making fun of me again, but wherever there is a legend, there is a grain of truth. Look at Heinrich Schliemann finding Troy and the treasure of Priam, or Howard Carter discovering the tomb of Tutankhamun.”
Lord Farley decided to change the subject. “There’s a blue moon tonight. Did you notice?”
“A second full moon in a thirty day period.”
“Magic happens on the second full moon. People fall in love.”
“Really? I don’t see what a full moon has to do with anything.”
“Can’t you play along?”
“I haven’t the talent for romance. I’m too practical.”
“Just follow my direction.”
“Well, you’re leading.”
“Have I told you that you smell divine?”
“It’s a new perfume called Vol de Nuit.”
“Night Flying. A strange name for a perfume. Next time put some droplets in your hair.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because of this.” Farley pulled Mona against him, pressing his cheek against hers as they spun around the room.
Mona didn’t resist Farley’s familiarity this time, feeling a sudden jumble in her stomach. She was surprised at how readily she yielded. It lasted only a few seconds but felt like being on a roller coaster. Being close to Farley felt good, even though she knew he must be a bounder. She had a friend, Lady Alice, in England whom she would write to about this Lawrence Robert Emerton Dagobert Farley. If Bob Farley had a past, her friend would know it.
Until Mona received a letter from her friend, Lady Alice, telling her what’s what with Farley, she decided to have fun with him—something Mona had very little of in her life.
23
Mona went to the dining area for a glass of punch while Farley and a group of men surrounded Don Meade, Brokers Tip’s jockey, as he recounted the fighting finish for the umpteenth time.
Bored with the constant retelling of the race, Mona wandered off in search of refreshment, bumping into Happy Chandler’s wife.
“Mildred, how nice to see you again.”
“Mona, my goodness, what a dress you’re wearing.”
“Yes, I understand it’s a little risqué for Kentucky.”
“If I had your figure, I’d wear it. You’re only young once.”
Mona protested, “But you’re young.”
“Once a woman has children, such clothes are a thing of the past. I see you came with Lord Farley. He’s a good-looking man in a smart package—all that dark hair. Reminds me of Clark Gable.”
“You think? I thought he looked like a pirate.” Mona dabbed some shrimp salad on a plate. “Know about him—anything I should watch out for?”
“Only that he has impeccable manners, good teeth, lots of money, and claims he’s the son of a duke or something.”
“Why’s he over here then? Shouldn’t he be in England lording his status over his inferiors?”
“That’s what I’ve asked my husband, but since Farley contributes to my husband’s campaigns, I’m told not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Your husband is ambitious.”
“Very, but he’s a good man and really wants to help folks. He means to run for governor, and if he wins, he’ll make a good one.”
“Why stop at governor?”
Mildred laughed. “That’s what he says.”
“You told me you were close to my uncle. I understand there was a falling out between Aunt Melanie and Uncle Manfred. Can you tell me anything about it?”
Mildred pulled Mona aside and out of earshot. “I’m very fond of Melanie. I know you must think her a silly woman, but Melanie has had to withstand blows most of us never face. She’s been badly used and has never had time to recover before the next storm heads her way. God bless her.”
“For instance?” Mona asked.
“I’d rather not say, but much of it involved trusting the wrong person. Of course, we all saw her take a swing at Wilhelmina Deatherage at the Derby. This type of behavior certainly does her no credit. I imagine it’s why she’s not here tonight. Her conduct would have been the talk of the town if those two jockeys’ beating each other with their riding crops hadn’t been worse.”
“But why did Melanie and Manfred fall out?”
“I don’t know if it is my place to say.”
“Please, Mildred. I need help if I’m to make a go of it here. No one will tell me anything, and quite frankly, I’m stumbling in the dark.”
Mildred gave a sympathetic look. “I’ll tell you the rumor, but I don’t believe a word of it. Manfred believed Melanie was embezzling money by forging his name on checks.”
“Was that a year ago?”
“Yes. They had a huge falling out about it, and Manfred banned Melanie and the children from Moon Manor.”
“Was there money missing?”
“According to him—yes. Even if there were missing funds, I doubt it was Melanie’s doing.”
“Why is that?”
“Because she is not a thief. It isn’t her nature, besides she has plenty of money.”
“Not to hear Melanie tell it,” Mona said.
“Oh, I know Melanie is always crying poor mouth, but she has plenty. When her husband died, she received quite a bequeathal, so she has no need of money. Men are her weakness, but Melanie has never stolen another woman’s beau or had an affair with a married man. If embezzlement did take place, I would take a hard look at her son, Miles. It was no secret he wanted to be master of Mooncrest Farm and was vocal that he needed a larger allowance. Perhaps he decided to help himself.”
