Staging is Murder

by Grace Topping

  “You’re right.” Tyrone stood in front of a cavernous fireplace and rested a hand on the Carrera marble mantel. “All this and she still wasn’t happy. No wonder her husband divorced her.”

  I sighed. It was a wonder Skip hadn’t murdered her.

  I gave Tyrone a tour of the house, telling him of changes I’d already discussed with Victoria and noted his suggestions. “This is a grand old house. Look at the coffered ceilings and wainscoting. They’re fabulous.”

  “It reminds me of Hendricks Funeral Home. No one’s going to buy it looking like a morgue.”

  “Wait and see. It’s amazing what removing excess furniture, decluttering, and freshening the paint can do. Sometimes moving a piece of artwork to a different location can make a big difference. It’s like when you design a stage set.”

  Old-fashioned door chimes sounded in the distance. I walked down the long hall and pulled open the heavy oak front door. Before me stood one of the best-looking men I’d ever seen—tall, blond, and with a bearing that spoke of military training. Not since seeing a young Robert Redford in old videos had I seen someone who made me stand and stare.

  I disliked him immediately. Good-looking men are trouble, my mother had warned. I learned the hard way she’d been right.

  “Is Victoria Denton in?” the Adonis asked. “I’m Doug Hamilton with Hamilton Real Estate.”

  “Doug, how nice to see you.” Behind us, Victoria glided down the long staircase like the female lead in a classic movie, extending both her hands to take his. Charm she hadn’t wasted on us now oozed from her.

  Doug glanced around the foyer. “I wanted to see how the staging is coming along. Have you made any progress?”

  “I keep telling you, my home is fine the way it is. You and Skip are the only ones who think it needs to be staged to sell.” Victoria’s frown clearly expressed how she viewed that. She looked over at Tyrone and me. “Uh, this is Laura Bishop, the stager, and her helper, Tyler.”

  “It’s Tyrone,” I said.

  Doug nodded at us. “Now, Victoria, if you want to sell this place for a good price, you need to spruce it up. Otherwise, it could sit on the market awhile. In its present condition, you’d be insulted by any offer you received. You wouldn’t want that now, would you?” He squeezed Victoria’s hand.

  Victoria pressed her lips together, forming a thin line. She didn’t appear convinced.

  “We’ll hold an open house in a week and see how it goes,” Doug said. “If we don’t have any interest then, we’ll see what else we can do to attract buyers.”

  Warmth crept up my neck and face. “A week? We’ll need at least two weeks to get this place ready for an open house.”

  “That’s all the time we have.” Doug looked into the living room. “If you don’t think you can handle it—”

  “We’ll be ready.” How little sleep could I survive on?

  “I’ll stop back in a couple of days to see how the staging is progressing.” As Doug walked with Victoria to the front door and out onto the porch, I heard him say, “You might want to consider my advice to contact Monica Heller. You get what you pay for.”

  My dislike for him escalated.

  Tyrone and I hurried back to the living room.

  “Don’t let him bother you. He’s got as much riding on selling this house as you do,” Tyrone said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Heard it at Vocaro’s. After old man Hamilton had his stroke, he made some serious mistakes at the agency. Doug retired from the Navy and came home to care for his dad. He doesn’t know much about selling real estate and is helping out.”

  I moaned. “My future work as a stager depends on how well we do here. We really need more time.”

  “Then let’s get started.” Tyrone turned toward the animal heads mounted on the walls and made a face. “The sooner we’re outta this creepy place the better.”

  Chapter 2

  Use mirrors to brighten an area, but only if they reflect something attractive. Mirrors can also make a room look larger.

  “Honestly, Nita, if I didn’t have so much riding on this job, I’d tell Victoria to call Monica myself.” I leaned back in my chair at Vocaro’s and sipped the plain coffee I’d ordered instead of the more expensive cappuccino. Fatigue from the previous days’ work at the Denton house was catching up with me, and I desperately needed the boost caffeine would give me.

  “You must be frustrated.” Nita took a large bite of Danish pastry. She viewed pastries as one of the major food groups. “Is Victoria being more than her usual obnoxious self?”

  I expelled a long, drawn-out sigh. “Working with her is like pushing a rock up a hill with your head, and when you look up, it rolls back and hits you in the face. Tyrone and I are exhausted. For someone who said she didn’t want to be bothered with the details, she’s criticized everything we’ve done so far. When we suggested removing some furniture, she said she liked it exactly the way it is. She doesn’t realize how crowded the rooms are, which makes them look smaller. There’s never a dull moment there.” I pushed away my half-eaten bagel. My appetite had fled hand in hand with my enthusiasm for this project.

  “No surprise there. I won’t say it, but—”

  “I know. You warned me about Victoria, and you were right.” I continued leafing through a magazine. “Right now, I need to find a way to break up the massive wall in the front foyer. It’s the first thing you see when you walk in and it needs something to make a good first impression.”

  “Let me go through the magazines at the dental clinic. I recall an article that showed a photo of three mirrors hanging horizontally on a tall wall, one above the other. At the time I thought it was a clever idea. It might work for you.” For Nita, one of the joys of working as the receptionist at Dr. Malcolm’s dental clinic was having occasional quiet periods when she could enjoy the numerous magazines they put out for patients.

  I flipped my magazine closed. “Could you search for it today and fax it to me at Victoria’s so I can see how it looks? We’re running out of time fast.”

  “I’ll look for it as soon as I get there. We’re not very busy at the clinic right now. Do people still use fax? How about if I scan or take a photo of it and text it to you?”

  “That would be great, but reception on the hill is really poor. On top of that, my cell phone isn’t holding a charge for long and dies out on me. Once I make some money, the first thing I plan to do is get a new phone. In the meantime, Victoria said I could use her fax, so send it to her fax number. That way I can get it today.” I wrote the number on the back of one of my new business cards and handed it to her.

  “I’ll send it this afternoon. If you don’t get it today, give me a call. I’m notorious for transposing numbers and sending things off to the wrong place.” Nita tapped the card with a rose-colored nail. “This one I should remember. It’s close to Dr. M’s home fax and my mother-in-law’s number. Wouldn’t it be funny if I sent it to my mother-in-law?”

  “Knowing you and your mother-in-law, you’d enjoy confusing her.”

  Nita slipped the card into her purse. “How’s Tyrone doing working with Victoria?”

  “Like mixing oil and vinegar, Victoria being the vinegar. His usual good humor is fading fast. Maybe if he gets the Quincy Scholarship he applied for, he can give up some of his part-time jobs and avoid difficult people like Victoria. They’ll be making a selection soon.”

  “Tell him to be careful what he says to her. She’s on the scholarship selection panel.”

  “Oh no.” A sense of exhaustion swept over me. “I’ll have to warn Tyrone.”

  “Definitely. Victoria isn’t someone you’d want as an enemy, and it doesn’t take much for her to view you as one.”

  After arriving at the Denton house, I spent the morning searching the attic for things I could use throughout the house and was delighted
to discover a number of colorful rugs, lamps, and some steamer trunks for side tables. They would help make some of the near-empty bedrooms a bit cozier without having to bring in extra items. I worked cautiously in the dim light, careful to avoid the low rafters, and stepped around piles of abandoned household items.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the steps to the attic. I looked up from the stack of linens I’d been going through. Tyrone emerged from the narrow stairwell, ducking so he wouldn’t bang his head on the rafters.

  “Nita called. She found the magazine article and will be faxing it shortly.” Tyrone paused. “I’d have gone to the library to get it, but Victoria hides out there. I didn’t want to run into her.”

  “Can’t say I blame you, but I think she went out earlier.” I wiped my dusty hands on the back of my jeans. “I’ll go get it.”

  I pushed open the heavy oak door to the library and was startled to see Victoria sitting at a massive desk with a phone in her hand. I didn’t realize she’d returned.

  “Don’t threaten me. Either you get it to me by tomorrow or I’m going public with this.” She slammed the old-fashioned phone down so hard it bounced on the desk.

  I hesitated in the doorway, ready to turn away. Victoria caught sight of me and quickly inserted the papers in her hand between the pages of a book and closed it. “What do you want?”

  “Sorry. I thought you were out. I came to pick up a fax.”

  “Well, come get it.” Victoria brushed past me in the doorway, grumbling something about having me underfoot all the time.

  The fax hadn’t arrived yet, so I sank into the chair next to the machine to wait for it. My body ached, and I needed a rest.

  A large bookcase filled the wall behind me. I swung my chair around and studied the books on the shelves. Seeing the distinctive purple cover of a Louiston High School yearbook, I pulled it from the shelf, surprised Victoria was sentimental enough to keep it close at hand. The dust covering it tickled my nose.

  To kill time waiting for the fax, I leafed through the yearbook, coming across photos of a very young and attractive Victoria. One photo, taken during a high school production of Nicholas Nickleby, featured Victoria and classmates Jack Malcolm and Warren Hendricks. That must have been when they developed an interest in the stage and went on to the Louiston Players, a small but vibrant community theater group.

  A piece of paper fell from between the pages of the yearbook. Someone had written Warren Hendricks in block letters across the top of the page. Below his name appeared a list of dates and dollar amounts. That was strange. Warren was the director of the Hendricks Funeral Home. Was Victoria making payments for someone’s funeral? If so, it certainly had been an expensive one. Over the years, Victoria had entered into a number of business ventures, all of them unsuccessful. One of them may have been been with Warren.

  At the sound of the fax machine turning on, I tucked the paper back into the yearbook and returned it to the shelf. I studied the fax pages spewing from the machine. Yes, the perfect solution for the foyer wall.

  “Come quick,” Tyrone called from the doorway.

  In the distance, I could hear shouting. “What’s going on?” I’d expected a quiet day but instead was beginning to feel like Dorothy in the eye of a Kansas tornado.

  “It’s Cora Ridley. She and Victoria are having a shouting match, and it’s really heating up. Maybe Cora will deck her.” Tyrone didn’t sound averse to seeing it happen. “Man, this is so cool.”

  Cora and Victoria stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I want my money.” Cora waved her clenched fist at Victoria. “I’ve waited as long as I’m going to wait. Now that you’re selling this place, I expect my money.”

  They had been partners in a catering business. Cora had done the cooking, and Victoria was to use her connections to get them business. Rumor had it that Cora put up most of the money for the venture, which hadn’t lasted long. Catering was a service industry, and Victoria wasn’t someone who wanted to please people.

  “I don’t owe you a thing,” Victoria said. “Our business went bankrupt. That’s the way things go. You don’t see me crying over it.”

  “What do you have to cry about? I put up the money, and you made a mess of it. I never should have trusted you with my money, or my husband.”

  Victoria reared back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I mean. I know all about you and Norman. You may think you fooled me, but you’re wrong. For all I care, you can have him, but I want my money. Once I get it, I can leave the creep.”

  Cora was married to Norman Ridley, a representative to the state legislature, who believed one of the perks of being elected to office was access to any woman he wanted.

  “Get out of here.” Victoria advanced toward Cora. “My lawyer says I don’t owe you a penny.”

  Cora backed toward the door. “I’ll get it one way or another, or you’ll be sorry.” Turning, she stalked through the front entrance and slammed the door behind her.

  Tyrone and I stood there frozen.

  Seeing us, Victoria raised her chin and walked up the stairs. “I never should have lowered myself going into business with the likes of her. I won’t make a mistake like that again.”

  When she disappeared down the hall, Tyrone let out his breath. “Do you think Cora will come back?”

  “Who can say?” Remembering my reaction on first discovering my late husband Derrick’s infidelity, I could well understand Cora’s anger. “If she does return, I wouldn’t want to be here. After seeing how angry they both can get, it could be deadly.”

  Later in the day, the Denton house was humming with activity. The window washer and the painters were transforming the place. I was pleased to see how the sparkling clean windows brightened the rooms.

  At the sound of breaking glass, my heart sank. Racing toward the direction of the noise, I entered the dining room to see Tyrone staring at his feet. Pieces of wine-colored glass littered the hardwood floor.

  “You idiot.” Victoria gasped from the doorway. “That was my grandmother’s vase.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Tyrone sputtered with embarrassment. “The shelf tipped when I—”

  “Sorry doesn’t do it.” She walked over to Tyrone and poked her finger into his chest, punctuating each word. “How could you be so careless?”

  Tyrone backed away from her, rubbing his chest. His face flushed. “I was reaching for that covered jar.” He pointed to an Asian-style ceramic jar on an upper shelf.

  “It doesn’t matter how it happened. You should have been more careful.” She leaned over, picked up a piece of the glass, and then straightened. “I shouldn’t have let Laura convince me you were experienced enough to work here. In fact, I recently realized why your name sounded familiar. You’re one of the applicants for the Quincy Scholarship at Fischer College.” She threw the piece of glass onto the floor. “Well, you can forget about it. I could never recommend someone stupid and careless, who presented himself as something he’s not.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked from the room.

  Tyrone turned to me. “What’d she mean?”

  A quiver of regret ran through me. “Victoria’s on the Quincy Scholarship panel. I meant to tell you, but with all that has been happening, I forgot.”

  A shocked look crossed his face and he rushed to follow Victoria. “Look, Mrs. Denton, I’m really sorry. I’ll get it repaired or find you another one.”

  I cringed thinking how expensive it might be to replace the Murano vase. Neither of us had that kind of money.

  “Please, Mrs. Denton,” he pleaded, but Victoria ignored him and started up the stairs. When she continued to ignore him, Tyrone followed her, his panic visible to the window washer and painters who had come out into the hall.

  “Tyrone, wait.” I raced after him, grabbing his arm to st
op him before he could follow her upstairs. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about her being on the panel. I meant to. She’s not the only one determining the winner.”

  Tyrone paced up and down the foyer, a worried look flickering in his eyes. “She could say stuff to the other panel members. I need that scholarship, Laura. You understand, don’t you? With it, the money I’m making now could help out more at home.”

  “We’ll figure out something. I’ll go up to the library and talk to her once she calms down. Maybe my business insurance will cover the cost of the vase.”

  “It won’t matter. She hasn’t liked me from the start. Mrs. Denton could really hurt my chances at the scholarship. I need to talk to her.”

  He took the stairs two at a time, bounded down the corridor toward the library, and then knocked on the door to get Victoria’s attention. I stood on the stairs, trying to hear what was happening. I didn’t need to try hard. Everyone on the first floor could hear them.

  “Mrs. Denton, can I talk to you for a minute?” Tyrone pleaded.

  “Go away. You’re not going to change my mind.”

  “Please, I’ll do anything.”

  Victoria swung open the door and stood in the opening. “I said go. In fact, get out now. I don’t want you working here any longer. I heard about the trouble you got into. I’ll talk to the scholarship panel tomorrow.”

  “You can’t do that.” His voice rose. He slowly descended the stairs. His shoulders slumped and his face twitched with anger and fear. “I can’t let her do that. Sorry, Laura, but I’ve gotta get out of here. I’ll hitch a ride into town.”

  Before I could respond, he was gone. Soon after that, the workmen left, and the house became deathly quiet.