Free Major Vices by Mary Daheim Page B

aren’t you, Aunt Trixie?”
    Trixie started to bolt out of Mason’s embrace, then remembered her allegedly fragile state. “Hardly! I turned forty just a short time ago.”
    Renie rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother!”
    â€œTrixie’s three years younger than I am,” Judith said out of the corner of her mouth.
    It was Holly, however, who set the record straight: “Let me think—I was born in ’51, and you’re seven years older than I am, Trixie, so that makes you—”
    â€œUnconscious!” cried Mason Meade as Trixie collapsed in his arms. “Quick! Do something!”
    Mrs. Wakefield did. She marched up to the recumbent Trixie Bellew and slapped her across the face. Trixie’s eyes flew open, her body recoiled, and she glared fiercely at the housekeeper.
    â€œYou fool! How dare you! That hurt! ”
    Mrs. Wakefield shrugged. “Brought you around, didn’t it? Ever try a dose of smelling salts? They’re nasty.”
    Angrily, Toadie wedged herself between her daughter and the housekeeper. “That’s grounds for dismissal, Mrs. Wakefield! I’m going to report this incident to Mr. Major!”
    Mrs. Wakefield yawned extravagantly. “Go ahead. I’ll bet he gets real excited, especially if you tell him he got a birthday card from Saturn.”
    At the door to the den, Derek was still trying to turn the knob. He pushed, he shoved, he wiggled and jiggled. He also shouted. There was no response, either from the door or from Uncle Boo.
    â€œI wouldn’t come out, either,” Renie whispered to Judith. “If Boo stalls long enough, they’ll all go home.”
    â€œUs, too,” Judith whispered back, then frowned. “You don’t suppose he’s sick?”
    Renie made a face. “Hardly. He’s asleep, as usual. If everybody shut up, we could probably hear him snore.”
    Derek turned to Aunt Toadie. “Is there another key?”
    Toadie shook her head. “No. The one I gave him wasthe only key to the den. The lock for every room is tooled differently.”
    Mrs. Wakefield guffawed. “A lot you know! There’s a master key for all the rooms.”
    Everyone stared at the housekeeper. Trixie, now recovered from whatever had been ailing her, glowered at Mrs. Wakefield. “Well? Where is it? Go get it so we can open the blasted door.”
    But Mrs. Wakefield suddenly looked blank. “I’m not sure. Weed had all the keys on a big ring he kept downstairs by the furnace room. But I haven’t seen it in weeks. Shall I ask him?”
    Derek’s dark eyes narrowed. “You shall indeed. And if he can’t find those keys, tell him to bring a crowbar.”
    With a sigh of resignation, Judith stepped forward. “Hold it,” she said, feeling all eyes now upon her. “That’s a beautiful Philippine mahogany door, and I’d hate to see it ruined. Has anybody got a crochet hook?”
    No one replied. Finally, Mrs. Wakefield recalled that there was an old sewing cabinet in the third-floor attic. Mason Meade volunteered to go look for it. Trixie insisted on accompanying him.
    â€œI know the way,” she said, clutching his arm and heading for the main staircase. “Now, Mason, don’t pay any attention to what Jill and Holly say about ages and…” The pair disappeared above the first landing.
    Toadie confronted Judith. “What do you intend to do?”
    Judith attempted a smile. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve always had a knack for picking locks. I used to do it when I was a kid. You know, just for fun.” She didn’t add that she had also done it, more recently, out of necessity. There had been occasions in the past few years when Judith had needed to gain access to locked rooms, not for fun or even idle curiosity. Judith and Renie had usually been on the trail of a killer. Of course, this was not the case now.
    â€œSnooping,”