Chapter 18

Katherine Street's visitation on Sunday was scheduled from ten o'clock until one o'clock so that no one would have to miss church, and the evening session was scheduled from five o'clock until seven o'clock. Carter left early to pick up Henny, Jameson drove Eve, who everyone simultaneously realized at breakfast hadn't left to stay with Bitty Sherwood after all, and Perry drove Della to the funeral home. There was already a long line waiting patiently to sign the guest book, because having your name in the funereal guestbook of a Street still meant something in town.

Perry helped Della from the Galaxie and pulled her into his arms. "Aren't these the same people who stopped by the house Friday? Would you like me to stand with you while you greet them again?"

She leaned into him, sliding her arms around his middle. "No, but thank you for offering, darling. Will you be terribly bored sitting by yourself?"

"I'll have you to look at. I won't be bored."

Della wore one of the dresses purchased at Lorna's the night before, a sleeveless daffodil yellow silk wiggle dress with a twist detail at the bust and cinched at the waist with a narrow patent leather belt. She'd accessorized with the gold dangle earrings and cat charm bracelet once again and looked calm and cool in the stifling heat.

He brought her hand to his lips, witnesses be damned. "Holler if you need me. I'm going to have a cigarette before I go inside."

Coffee provided by the funeral home, which was separated from Rog and Bob's by a vacant building and a truncated street without a sign, was strong and hot. The last thing anyone needed was piping hot coffee, but Perry pushed the spigot on the twenty-gallon urn, refreshing his cup for the second time, and added cream and sugar before heading to the back of the room and retaking his seat on an overstuffed love seat. From the corner of his eye he saw a man break from the reception line positioned to the right of Katherine Street's bronze casket and limp purposefully toward him.

"Oliver Velting," the wiry little man announced, thrusting his hand out in front of him a full two feet away from Perry Mason. "I used to work at the mill, but I'm retired now and own the rock shop up the street a ways."

Perry set down his cup and saucer on a side table and extended his own hand. "Perry Mason. I'm a friend of a family member."

"You're with Della," the man said conversationally.

He nodded swiftly, his eyes searching her out in the crowd. "She's my secretary."

"Sure, whatever you say. I saw you two in the parking lot." Oliver Velting sat down in the chair next to Perry, his knees snapping loudly as he did so. "What do you need a secretary for?"

"I'm a criminal trial attorney."

Oliver Velting whistled, impressed. "Ever seen an execution?"

"I have, but fortunately none were my clients."

"You must be good."

Perry grunted in response. "How did you know Katherine Street?"

"Like I said, I worked at the mill for near forty years." He nodded toward Della, who was currently speaking with a very round woman dressed in an unflattering purple ruffled dress and large lavender picture hat. She appeared to be about Oliver Velting's age, which was near that of Jameson Street's, and appeared to be quite fond of Della. "Known that gal since she was a sprout. She got me interested in rocks."

Perry turned to actually look at the man, interest piqued. "She did? How?"

"Well, it was when my wife died. Mrs. Street brought the little gal with her on a condolence call. Had her all dolled up in a pink dress and shiny shoes, her hair pulled back with a bow. Prettiest little gal you ever did see. Big eyes and a head of curls all the women fussed over. She walked right up to me, couldn't have been more than six, and handed me a glass jar with a blue ribbon tied around it. She looked me square in the eye and said she was sorry about my wife and told me whenever I got sad about her I should look at them. I thought Mrs. Street was going to bust with pride."

Perry was fascinated by the man's story as a candid detail of Della and her grandmother was revealed that wasn't scandalous or cloaked in secrecy. "I can believe she was pretty as a child," he said with heartfelt honesty. "She's a remarkably beautiful woman."

"That she is," Oliver readily agreed. "You're a lucky man."

"Yes, Mr. Velting, I am."

"I took the wisest advice anyone gave me after my wife died and whenever I got sad, I looked at that jar of pretty stones. They were mostly rose and crystal quartz, moonstone feldspar, unakite, and granite flecked with mica, but to a kid they must have been miraculous."

"Pretty stones," Perry repeated quietly.

"I started travelling all over the United States, looking for semi-precious stones, agates and crystals, geodes and fossils, unakite and fractured basalt. You name it, I found it, and brought it home. Soon enough I couldn't park my car in the garage there were so many rocks. You should stop by the shop. I built one of them shadow boxes for that jar and hung it behind the counter for everyone to see. The ribbon is faded and tattered, but the stones are still the prettiest I have in the shop."

Perry extended his hand one more time to the man and shook his hand solemnly. "Mr. Velting, thank you for telling me about the pretty stones. I would be honored to stop by your shop."

Oliver Velting stood with more sharp snaps from his knees. "Dang arthritis," he complained good-naturedly. "Sure is noisy some days. I still get around all right though, for an old coot." He put his hand on Perry's shoulder briefly. "Take care of that gal."

"Did Ollie talk your ear off?" Perry looked up from studying his shoes into the florid face of the exceptionally round woman he had seen talking with Della earlier.

"It's still partially attached. Actually, I enjoyed talking to him immensely. Perry Mason." He indicated the chair next to the love seat and the woman sat down with a 'whoosh' and a groan.

"Della told me to come over here and keep you company," the woman said, fanning herself with a beribboned straw palm fan. "I'm Miss Roseanne. I was Della's ballet instructor."

Perry fought to keep his expression benign but friendly. "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Roseanne."

"Did you know Della was my most naturally talented pupil ever? Of course you didn't, how could you?" Miss Rosanne gave a snorting laugh at her own silliness. "Katherine brought her to me when she was just shy of three because even at that young age she moved with unbelievable grace, almost as if she already thought out her every move and made them in the most attractive way possible. Katherine asked me to refine her movements. You could tell she was going to be tall and slender, and Katherine wanted her to continue to be comfortable with herself in case she grew exceptionally tall like her other grandmother, Marie Sherwood. Mae and Eve aren't so tall, but Katherine was one to think ahead, just in case."

"You are to be commended for your teaching, Miss Roseanne. Della is the personification of elegance and grace."

Miss Roseanne beamed. "She is, isn't she? I used to love watching her go through her steps at the barre. Her face was so serious, but beautifully serene. She was very flexible and really lost herself in the movements. I always gave her the lead in the group recital dances because no one else was half as good. Her grandmother sat in the front row and never took her eyes off of that girl."

Perry didn't have the heart to tell her how much Della disliked ballet, that the serenity on her face hid distaste and resentment and that she worked exceptionally hard at perfecting her movements in the hopes her grandmother might praise her.

"I'll let you in on a secret thought I've always had." Miss Roseanne lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Della probably should have taken tap dancing lessons. Her personality was much more suited to it than to ballet. But I didn't want to lose my best pupil or Katherine Street's support and approval. The fact her granddaughter attended my school brought in a lot of business from the entire county, and I've had a comfortable life because of it. Is it terrible that I was so selfish, Mr. Mason?"

Perry set his cup and saucer down on the tray stacked with dirty cups next to the coffee urn and checked his watch. Another five minutes and the first session of Katherine Street's visitation would be concluded. The last few straggling visitors were almost finished conveying their condolences and once they were escorted to the door, Perry would collect Della and go back to the house for lunch, and maybe he could convince her to take a nap before heading back to the funeral home for the evening visitation. She had slept poorly despite being physically and mentally drained, unable to get comfortable or to shut down her thoughts, which had kept him awake most of the night as well trying not to smother her with worry as he attempted to soothe her. And besides, it would be nice to divest her of the yellow dress and lie atop the covers as the fan blew cool air over their heated skin. His little talks with Oliver Velting and Miss Roseanne had given him unexpected glimpses into her childhood as well as of the grandmother she had loved but was so angry with, and the insights had charmed him anew. A pattern was becoming clear, a pattern he doubted she recognized when she was with her family and lost in emotions he could only guess at. He hoped he could present what he had learned to her in a way that wouldn't cause another argument, or heaven forbid another trip to the 'vangcant' lot. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared broodingly out the window at the hot, sunny day.

"Ready to leave?" Della spoke quietly at his elbow.

He looked down at her and his expression relaxed into a smile. "More than ready."

She curled her hands around his arm and squeezed. "You should have stayed at the house," she said sympathetically.

"And miss meeting Mr. Velting and Miss Roseanne, not to mention your third grade teacher and the group of giggling girls you ran with in high school? Not on your life, sister. Oh, by the way, we've been invited to a bar-b-que today at Gale and Francine's if we don't feel like eating at the house, and Annette Gibson had a baby boy late last night, unnamed as of this morning."

She smiled tiredly. "That's nice. She and Hal already have two girls. What do you want to do, Mr. Mason?"

He leaned down to her and nuzzled the curls beneath her ear. "It would be improper for me to tell you what I want to do while we're standing only four feet from the remains of your departed grandmother."

"Let's go back to the house," she requested wearily. "I think I'd like to take a nap. With you."

Perry grinned. "That was my plan exactly, but I had the decency not to mention it in front of your grandmother."

Perry and Della arrived at the house several minutes after the rest of the family, because Patsy Fadden, Della's friend since elementary school arrived exceptionally late on foot, not having been able to take a break from her job at Skogmo's until five minutes prior. Bemoaning the little department store's new Sunday hours, Patsy alternately hugged Della and apologized for not being there sooner. Promising to be at the funeral even if she had to quit, she finally bade them farewell and headed back to work, cheerfully refusing a ride from Perry.

Everyone was in the dining room, picking at more cold fried chicken and a dill pickle potato salad, and hardly acknowledged their appearance. Henny silently handed Perry a large, thick manila envelope Emmett told him at the visitation he would drop off, and Perry set it in the middle of the table while he and Della ate, cognizant of the fact the others were eyeing it with barely disguised curiosity. When Della yawned, he abruptly pushed back his chair, scooped up the envelope, promised that he and Della would prepare and clean up dinner that evening, took Della by the elbow, and ushered her from the dining room.

She was so tired that after Perry pulled the zipper down on her new dress, she let it drop to the floor, stepped out of it and kicked it aside unconcernedly. She sat on the edge of the mattress, yawning, her head lolling against his shoulder while he helped her remove her shoes and stockings. He gently laid her down against the soft pile of pillows and quickly stripped to his boxers, then draped all of their clothes carefully over the backs of the slipper chairs, knowing she would be pleased. He reached beyond her already sleeping form and turned on the fan, and was immediately rewarded with a blessed breeze. Settling down on the mattress next to her, he spent the next few minutes watching her sleep until he nodded off as well, her small hand nestled in his.

Della stirred and stretched, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile as she became aware of the cool breeze from the fan blowing over her body. She opened one eye and found herself looking directly at a pair of men's blue silk boxer shorts. She sat up blinking in sleepy confusion for a moment.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Perry greeted her. He had slept for possibly thirty minutes, then awoken with a start, realizing that he had forgotten to open the envelope from Emmett Childers. Piling pillows behind his back, he had sat up and begun perusing the documents in the envelope, his ear tuned contentedly to her gentle breathing as he discovered surprise after surprise.

"How long have I been asleep?" She shook her head and fluffed flattened curls with her hand.

"A little over an hour and a half. I was only going to let you sleep for a couple of hours, so it's good you woke up on your own."

"Whatcha doing?" She slurred through a yawn while arranging pillows so she could sit upright comfortably alongside him.

"I am egregiously padding my billable hours in the probation of Katherine Street's estate." He passed a sheaf of papers covered with check marks to her. "This is the inventory Emmett took the other day."

Della shuffled through the papers quickly and gave a low whistle. "He works amazingly fast. Anything amiss? Have Father and Carter spirited away the silver?"

"There are several items unaccounted for. Emmett thinks a few pieces of furniture might actually be stored in the garage. He hasn't inventoried the outbuildings yet."

"And the other items?" She yawned again.

He hesitated. "He couldn't find two pieces of jewelry. A gold ruby starburst necklace and matching bracelet."

Della closed her eyes briefly. "Those are pieces of Grandma Esther's jewelry. Grandmother wore only pearls. I take it Emmett doesn't think he'll find the jewelry in the garage."

He reached over and placed his hand on her knee. "It'll turn up."

"Anything else of interest you'd like to tell me, Mr. Mason?"

"You know how I've been encouraging you to buy a car," he began.

"Incessantly nagging me, you mean?"

"Encouraging, nagging, same difference." He grinned when she snorted. "What would you say to driving home in a like-new dark green nineteen forty-one Packard Clipper? No more bus passes, no more taxi cabs…"

Della burst out laughing. "Grandmother's car! Oh, we could have fun in that thing. Even you could almost stand up in it."

He rubbed his jaw. "I haven't driven a 'three on a tree' in a while, but I guess I could pick it up again quickly enough."

"I'll be the only one driving that car," she declared. "Grandmother taught me to drive it when I was fifteen."

"Your hidden talents amaze me, Miss Street. First the piano, and now I find out you can drive a three on a tree transmission…will the revelations never stop?"

"Do I own the Buick, too?"

He shook his head. "No, that's in your father's name. And Carter's convertible is in his name."

She looked relieved. "Good. What are you going over now?"

"Bank statements."

"And?"

"Aaaaand, there is a lot of money."

"What do you mean by 'a lot'?"

"I mean 'a lot' in capital letters."

She pursed her lips. "Five figures or six?"

"Six."

She sucked in a quick breath. "I can buy a hell of a car with six figures. Low, mid, high?"

"Low-high."

She flung herself back against the pillows, her arm over her eyes. "Give it to me, I can take it."

"Roughly seven hundred and thirty-seven thousand dollars." He rummaged around in the envelope and pulled out a stack of bills held together with a piece of knotted string. "Here's the seven thousand."

She moved her arm away from her face and stared at him. "Seven hundred thousand…" she took the packet of bills from him with trembling hands. "How did she…seven hundred thousand dollars?"

Perry nodded. "It's squirreled away in several bank accounts, except for this stash of cash she kept stashed in her room. Della, the seven hundred thousand dollars is merely the liquid assets of the estate. Once you add the house and its contents, the mill...well, let's say I just took a nap with a millionaire."

Della's eyes were wide in her pale face as she stared at him. "And to think all these years everyone thought I was after your money."