Tea for Everyone
Previously: The team has a long chat with Alexa’s ghost, and Jeannie assigns tasks to the office crew.
Need to catch up on The Spring? Visit the chapter index here:
4:17 PM - Thursday, November 6, 2014
50 Laurel Street, Presidio Heights, San Francisco
They were back again, just around the corner from the other house they’d just been in, but this one was already familiar. Mark slid out of the SUV and looked over the stately rick manse again and inhaled deeply. The last time they were here they thought they’d had a bad guy; and now? He made eye contact with Jeannie and then Paco, who just shut the driver’s side door with a bang. They all started to move across the street, three astride.
Mark rang the doorbell and the heavy “thunk” noise that happened the first time happened again, but this time there was no waiting. Mark had the quiet thought that they were likely anticipated. The door swung open to the dark, elegant vestibule with the same insanely large arrangement of deep burgundy flowers that looked like a Renaissance painting. The piano was playing this time — something vaguely familiar, but there was no way of knowing what it was called, at least not to him.
“Hello, I’m Margot Dagonet.” It was the woman who’d walked behind Charlie at the funeral, but now dressed down in a trim pair of jeans and a lush, oversized cable-knit sweater in a deep shade of blue that matched her eyes — the same eyes as her son. She stood halfway down the staircase that led up to the main floor, the merest hint of a smile that wasn’t really a smile. It was something meant to be welcoming and polite, but it was off somehow. Mark knew Jeannie would know why, but he couldn’t figure it out. She was just a Mona Lisa.
“Mrs Dagonet, I’m Mark Greenberg from the FBI, and this is Paco Mayfield from the US Park Police, and Jean Hagen from the SFPD. Our jurisdictions are collaborating to solve what happened to Alexa Thomas.” Any semblance of the faint smile melted away from the woman’s serene face.
“Yes. I — I can hardly believe what’s happened to that girl. She was so lovely.” She gestured to the stairs for them to make their way up. “Although I will say,” she began as they mounted the stairs, “I’m not thrilled that you spoke with my son on his own this past weekend. I feel like that could have waited for another day, don’t you?” She arrived at the top step and paused to look at them as they reached her. Charlie was playing the piano across the room in the window, winding down some kind of classical something.
“I understand how you feel,” Mark began, “however when there’s a dead teenager we try to move with expediency. We had been told your son was someone we needed to speak to, so we didn’t want to lose any time in doing so.” Mark heard himself speaking so formally and didn’t know where it was coming from. “To be honest, had we heard then what we’ve since heard from your son, our week would have gone a lot more smoothly.” He gave her a long look. “And apparently, since we’re expected,” Mark thought it would be useful to simply call it out, “I’m sure you know why we’re here and why we still have plenty more to discuss with your son. I’m grateful you’re here this time to be his advocate.” Now he was sandwiching, but Mrs Dagonet’s shoulders relaxed slightly and she gave a nod.
“Charles — “ she began softly, turning toward Charlie who was sitting at the piano bench expectantly. He nodded and stood, approaching them all.
“Hello.” He said quietly, making eye contact with each of them. Mark thought he looked thin and tired. Nothing like the wiry young man from Saturday, or even the calm, quiet young man from Sunday. Charlie had deep dark circles around his eyes and looked pale. “Should we sit in the dining room?”
“No — living room. I’ll have Marci make tea for everyone.” Margot Dagonet gestured toward her impeccable living room across the hall and made her way back toward the kitchen they’d been in on their first visit. The living room was the same. The same pale walls, pale furniture, but subtle sheens from metallics and mirrors, and the colorful art — it all felt sanctified and plush. As much as he appreciated the general atmosphere, Mark felt entirely out of his depth. He watched Jeannie who seemed to be right at home. She followed Charlie in, but when he went back to one of the sofas, she suggested he take an arm chair so they could all sit around him. He obeyed silently, but looked out of place in the armchair, unsure of how to comport his athletic frame in the upright seat.
“Marci will be right out with tea. She’d already started the kettle and tray, so it will be just a minute.” Mrs. Dagonet breezed into the room as though everyone had gathered for a game of Mahjong. She took a seat on the sofa on the other side of her son, opposite Jeannie, while Mark and Paco sat daintily next to them. Paco looked pinched and uneasy — Mark thought he looked unsure if he’d somehow crush the upholstery irrevocably, or as if he wasn’t able to remember if he’d showered that morning. Even in his nice funeral suit, Paco couldn’t hide is large frame. Surely there was something he was doing that was going to offend Mrs. Dagonet and her fancy room. Mark felt the same. “Can you tell us anything about — well, about anything?” Mrs. Dagonet crossed her slender legs and stuffed a cushion behind her lower back.
Jeannie turned to look at Mark who glanced back at her. “We’re still tying everything together, but we’ve made a lot of progress.” Jeannie ventured, offering a half smile to the woman. “Perhaps, Charlie, you could tell us how you’ve been doing this week?” She began a gentle ice-breaker.
Charlie scoffed slightly, looking in the mid-distance. “I — I don’t, I don’t really know.” It was almost a whisper.
“Have you been able to get to a meeting?” Jeannie encouraged.
“Yes. Yes, and I had a meeting with my sponsor too.” Charlie added quietly. Mark noticed the pained expression that went over Mrs. Dagonet’s face as her son admitted to this.
“Good. That’s very good, I was worried about you.” Charlie considered Jeannie for a moment. “I know this is a bad time, so just stay with your program — it will help.” Charlie nodded, swallowing deeply.
A woman in a set of burgundy scrubs came in carrying a large silver tray with a full tea set and a dish of delicate Madeline cookies. There was even a little silver bowl full of perfectly translucent lemon slices stacked in a tight offset pattern in the bowl. Placing it on the coffee table, she exited quickly to return with a second tray with six cups and saucers, placing it next to the first before departing. The cups had some sort of an exotic pattern on them — something that looked like it should be on an episode of Downtown Abbey, something Mark was sure Jeannie would clock.
“Thank you, Marci — “ Mrs Dagonet said, leaning forward slightly to begin pouring the tea. Mark was grateful for the strong, dark tea, declining any honey or cream, but was itching to start asking Charlie questions. The small Madeline that Margot Dagonet had placed on the saucer as she handed him the cup was gone in two bites.
“This is excellent tea. Thank you.” Jeannie began again. As much as Mark wanted to get going he knew that he’d do well to follow her lead with these people. Mrs. Dagonet smiled slightly.
“It’s Mariage Frères’ Marco Polo — it’s a favorite.” She said it with a precise French accent that meant nothing to Mark.
“It’s lovely. My mother used to drink their Paris-Tokyo blend — it was her little treat for herself in the afternoons.” Mrs Dagonet gave her an encouraging smile, appreciating that at least someone in her living room had some refinement.
“Officer Hagen used to work on the Obama campaign —” Charlie contributed quietly, blowing on the hot tea in his cup. His words landed with his mother, and Mark watched Jeannie’s stock go up in an instant. Jeannie summarized her time in Washington DC with the efficiency of a well-rehearsed elevator pitch.
“This is lovely to hear. We hosted the Obamas here during their second year in office? I think it was before that first mid-term, so 2010? It was a party for the California Democratic Committee. Gosh, that was a long time ago now.” Jeannie dimpled at her. Jesus, these people have money.
Mark took a deep breath.
“Mrs Dagonet, I’m afraid we do have a few questions for your son, if we may?” The woman looked at him wide-eyed and then glanced at her son whose eyes were in his tea.
“Y-yes, of course. I’m so sorry — I’m sure you have a full afternoon.”
“No, ma’am,” Jeannie reassured. “We aren’t in a rush, but I do think we have quite a bit to cover — is that correct, Charlie?” The boy heaved a sigh and looked at Jeannie, licking his lips. He set the porcelain teacup on the coffee table and sat up straight in the chair.
“Where, where would you like to begin?” Charlie ventured, his voice soft and low.
Jeannie’s head swung toward Mark who simply raised his eyebrows. She glanced at Paco who did the same.
“You and Alexa Thomas were — dating?” She asked delicately.
“Yes.” Charlie whispered.
“When did that begin?”
Charlie tilted his head back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “I guess, it was late September? About a month into the school year? We were on a project together.”
“Yes, Myth and Modern Culture.” Jeannie asserted. “Cliff Rollins sent us your project — it’s very impressive.” This seemed to catch Charlie off guard. “I really enjoyed it. I’d have enjoyed it more had you told us on Sunday that you and Alexa were project partners. You seemed to have skipped that part. You simply said you had a class together.” Charlie huffed quietly. “You didn’t say you were project partners and you definitely didn’t say you were dating.” Charlie tilted his head one way, then another, his mouth opening and closing as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin.
“Charles was — “ Mrs Dagonet began.
“Mom — please.” Charlie said, glaring at her slightly. His mother demurred and sipped her tea. Leaning forward slightly, the boy’s muscular shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “Alexa and I kept it between ourselves. We weren’t public at all. Not that I — I mean, I wanted to be, but she was — she was so — scared? Wary? I don’t know — after Seb had been such a jerk plus everything Dash and Tripp had done, and the rumors on that Pr3pSF website. Alexa didn’t want any of that to happen ever again. She didn’t want to be in a fishbowl again, under everyone’s scrutiny, and I knew exactly how she felt.” Charlie’s eyes flared at Jeannie. There was some spirit in the kid, yet. Mark hadn’t seen him like this before.
“So you were on a school project together…and then what? When did you see each other?”
“Every day after school. She came over here and we’d be together. We’d do homework, talk, hang out.”
“Have sex?” Jeannie ventured. Mrs. Dagonet’s head snapped up, eyes wide.
“Yes.”
“Is that why Alexa was on a prescription for a UTI?”
“Yes.”
“So we’re assuming it’s going to be your DNA on the condom we found in her bathroom wastepaper basket?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Dagonet’s face had gone pink. Jeannie waited a beat, considering Charlie.
“And no one knew about the two of you? We know Carolina knew, and Alexa confided in Ryan about it right before Halloween. Are you sure no one else knew?”
“I — I don’t know how anyone else could have known. We were never, like, together at school. We were friends and worked on a project together. We even had it so we wouldn’t even say hi to each other in the halls sometimes. We’d never leave school together either — we’d walk in different directions and then circle back and meet a few blocks over.”
“Jen Tyson goes to school with you — she seems pretty connected with the boys at Xavier. Do you think she could have figured it out and told them?”
“Why would she? What are you asking me?” Charlie’s eyes narrowed. Mrs. Dagonet looked between her son and Jeannie, her eyes identically narrowed.
“I’m asking you if — “ Jeannie paused, thinking. “I’m asking you if someone would be upset to learn that you and Alexa were seeing each other.”
“Upset enough to hurt Alexa? No.” Charlie shook his head.
“What about Tally Briggs?”
“What — what would Tally have to do with it?” Mrs. Dagonet sputtered.
“Mom — “ Charlie glared at her again, and the woman went silent, with a heavy sigh. “How would Tally know? The girls at Holy Heart had no idea — we never really saw them except at parties, and Alexa wasn’t really going to parties this fall. I wasn’t really either. There was nothing on that stupid website about us. No one knew.”
“Tally seems pretty intent on you being her Cotillion escort next month.”
Charlie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Do you honestly think I care about Tally’s Cotillion?”
“Charles — it was agreed to long ago.”
“I don’t care, Mom. If I have to do it, I will, but it’s ridiculous and Tally will make it seem like we’re dating or something. We are not dating, not ever. I do not want anything to do with Tally.” Charlie concluded, giving his mother a long look, jaw set. She raised her eyebrows in resignation.
“Charlie — where is your room in this house?” Jeannie asked intently.
Charlie’s face wrinkled. “What do you mean, my room? It’s upstairs on the third floor.”
“The L-wing that runs along the north side of the house?”
“Yes. Why are you asking me?”
“We visited Tally Briggs yesterday and when we were in her room I noticed that she has this really old-fashioned telescope.” A long pause.
“And —?” Charlie demanded.
“And I looked in it and it was aimed right at your windows. Tally even admitted that she used it to “spy on the neighbors” — right Paco?” Paco nodded. “Those were her words. I mean, she does live just a block and a half up the hill, and — “
“Oh Jesus —” Charlie whispered. His face was stunned.
“So, do you think she’d have seen you and Alexa together?”
Charlie’s chest was heaving. “I guess so, yes. But even still — Tally knows I’m not into her. She knows I don’t want to date her. I’ve made it clear more than once.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s ready to believe it.” Jeannie countered quietly, her mouth forming a straight line. “She has a crush on you, Charlie. Apparently you’re her ideal.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows, scoffing. “Well, that’s flattering, but I’m not interested, and she knows that.” He paused. “Alexa and I — it — it was serious, you know.” He whispered, pleading Jeannie to understand. “I — I’d invited her to come to the Alps with us for Christmas to go skiing. Her Dad had just given her permission to come.”
That’s interesting. Mark was definitely going to have to press Spiro Thomas a little bit more. He glanced at Jeannie whose eyes were trained fully on Charlie Dagonet. She took a long pause.
“What would Tally do if she knew that?”
“I don’t CARE about TALLY.” Charlie blew up.
“Charles, please control yourself.” Mrs. Dagonet scolded.
“It’s fine Mrs. Dagonet — “ Jeannie assured her. “You’re frustrated,” she said to Charlie. “I know. I am too, if I’m honest. So is Mark, so is Paco.” Jeannie gestured to her colleagues. “You’re frustrated because…you and Alexa weren’t just serious, you were in love?” She asked it gently. Mark watched as the boy’s face melted into a grimace, turned pink, and then emitted a deep sob. Charlie pulled it back with difficulty, tears starting. His mother looked on with a mixture of awe and dismay.
“Yes — yes, I loved her. I — I never knew anyone like her.” Charlie whispered out.
“And she loved you.” Jeannie landed it kindly. “That’s why you both kept it private. I understand. But I think Tally knew about it, and if she didn’t find out through the telescope — which, I definitely think she did, she found out another way.”
“What — “ Charlie sobbed, looking at her in disbelief. “What other way? There was no other way.”
“There was.” Jeannie reached into her suit pocket and produced the small plastic evidence bag she’d taken earlier. She laid it flat on the coffee table in front of Charlie.
Inside the bag was an old-fashioned gold signet ring with a single letter “D”.