“Do you think they’ll agree to it?” Jesse asked. “And do you think that the other people at the dealership will accept them?”
Bliss smiled, a small, rueful smile. “At the moment, the other people at the dealership are probably wondering what they’re going to do for a job come Monday morning. So, considering the alternative, yes, I think they’ll accept whatever I decide. As for Maria, I think she’ll be happy for the chance once she has time to think about it.”
“And Bill Marshall?” Jesse asked.
Bliss shrugged. “I can only hope he will. I need his experience, and it would be righting a wrong that should never have happened in the first place. Harry only got rid of him out of spite, because Uncle Malcolm had always thought so highly of Bill.”
Vivian nodded. “True. Malcolm always had a high regard for Bill Marshall. Harold wouldn’t have dared shove Bill aside while Malcolm was alive.” She frowned. “I never understood how the dealership survived that, if you want to know the truth. I guess there was more to Harold’s business acumen than I gave him credit for.”
“I don’t know,” Bliss said doubtfully. “I always thought there was some sort of backdoor deal going on. I just never knew what it was. I mean, Harry was a salesman, not a businessman. I don’t know how he kept the dealership from suffering after Bill left. I never understood it. Oh, well.” With a shake of her head, she stood and went back to the sideboard for another round of coffee and pastry.
Jesse looked to Vivian. “Really?”
Vivian shrugged. “It was always a mystery to me, too.”
Moving closer, Jesse whispered, “Maybe we have more mysteries going on here than we realized. Maybe Bliss should hire an outside auditor to go over the dealership’s books, just in case there were other fingers in the pie that she didn’t know about. This would be the perfect time.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. And I know a good person if Bliss is willing.”
“If Bliss is willing to what?” Bliss had wandered back from the sideboard with a full cup of coffee and a refilled dessert plate.
“What if Harry had hired someone outside the dealership to take over some of the accounting that Bill had been doing?” Jesse suggested. “Maybe that’s how he got along without Bill. We were thinking this would be the perfect time to bring in an outside auditor to go over the financial records of the dealership and find out what discrepancies show up.”
“Wow.” Bliss sat down carefully, then looked at Jesse with appreciation shining in her eyes. “You are devious. I should have spent more time with you years ago.”
“Thank you, I think.” The idea had seemed more logical than otherwise to Jesse, but she wasn’t going to argue.
“No, thank you. That’s a wonderful idea. For a lot of reasons. And I’m sure Marcus will agree.” Bliss clasped her hands in front of her and smiled like a child at a circus. “I am so eager to get started. Yesterday I was so overwhelmed, and today I’m actually starting to see a future again.”
Outside, the crunching of gravel alerted them to the arrival of the black Cadillac Bill Marshall had been driving the previous day. It slid by the sunroom windows on the front of the house and came to a halt a few feet beyond the front door.
“Oh, my goodness.” Bliss hurriedly downed the fresh cup of coffee in front of her. Rising, she smoothed her black, tailored skirt, paired with a simple white blouse and pearls, then patted her hair, which today was neatly and expertly coifed.
A second car rounded the curve in the driveway, and an older, red mustang with the convertible top down braked into position a few yards behind the Caddy. Maria Ortiz pulled a scarf from her head and fluffed her hair before exiting the car and disappearing from view at the side of Bill Marshall.
“I’ll take them into the study, if that’s all right,” Bliss said, nervously glancing in the direction of the front door. “You can join us if you want.”
“The study’s fine, dear,” Vivian answered with a warm, reassuring smile. “And I think you’re ready to do this on your own. We’ll be here if you need us.”
“Okay.” Bliss nodded, grinned and headed toward the front door where the sound of knocking had begun. “Showtime,” she called over her shoulder, then disappeared into the interior of the house.
Jesse stared after her, not knowing if she should be relieved or worried.
“What is it?” Vivian asked.
“Can you read everyone’s mind, or just mine?” Jesse turned her frowning gaze to her companion.
“Let’s just say you should never play poker. At least, not with me.” Vivian smiled and patted the sofa cushion next to her. “How do you think the sheriff’s going to like this?” She cut her eyes toward the meeting commencing in the study.
“That…” Jesse pointed toward the direction Bliss had taken. “Is quite a change from yesterday.” She could hear the misgiving in her own voice to match the frown clinging to her brow. “I think he’s probably going to take note of that.”
“How so?” Vivian asked, seemingly oblivious to the bipolar-like mood swings that seemed so apparent to Jesse.
“From meltdown basket case to take-charge business woman. From ‘oh, woe is me’ to ‘I’m so excited’,” Jesse explained.
“That’s grief, hon. Bliss is just a little more conflicted than most people would be. She’s genuinely sad, and she’s just as genuinely relieved. Her marriage was a mistake, and now that mistake is gone.”
“Is she going to level off any time soon, do you suppose?” Jesse continued to frown in the direction of the library.
“Over time the sadness will come less often and the happiness will come more.”
Not reassured, Jesse asked, “Do you think we can ask her to downplay the happiness for a while? Just until the sheriff’s through investigating her for murder?”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.” Vivian rested delicate fingertips on the slender band of diamonds encircling her throat. “I was too busy trying not to worry about her going into partnership with someone who acts alarmingly like her lover.”
Jesse sank down onto the sofa next to Vivian and buried her head in her hands. “Oh, good grief,” she muttered, her words muffled in the hollow of her palms.
Chapter Fifteen
Vivian patted Jesse on her back and started laughing softly. “For some strange reason,” she said through her laughter, “I had thought this was going to be simple.”
The ringing of Jesse’s phone stopped her from having to think of something positive to say. “Yes,” she answered, hoping her eagerness didn’t show.
“OMG, Jesse, I heard something!” SueAnn cried. Her voice dropped to a loud whisper. “Everybody is talking about this. Hey!” Her sudden shout faded into the distance.
“Chill. I’ll give it back to you in a minute,” Lindsey said, and Jesse could only assume the comment was meant for SueAnn. “Hey, are you watching TV?”
“Uh, are you talking to me now? If so, no,” Jesse answered. They kept a small TV in the kitchen area of the tea room, and she figured they must have seen something on it.
“Well, the news hounds have found us. I just saw a reporter all the way from Tulsa accost Sheriff Joe on the way to his truck a minute ago.”
“Hey, I have news of my own,” SueAnn’s muffled words sounded in the background. “And I need to tell her before I forget what they said.”
“I’ll give you the phone in a minute,” Lindsey said again. “And I saw a TV news truck hauling ass by the front windows a few minutes ago.”
Jesse’s filter system felt whiplashed, but she scored the first statement for SueAnn and the second for herself. “Were they two different news crews?” she asked, not liking the idea of an invading horde of reporters adding to the growing confusion.
“Yep. And it’s front page on the Sunday paper, just in case you haven’t seen that either.”
Jesse struggled not to groan out loud. “I hadn’t.”
“Give me the phone!” SueAnn i
nsisted, followed by the sound of a scuffle, then a loud huff. “Finally! Jesse, are you there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’m going to have to talk fast, ‘cause she’s still eyeing the phone. I heard these two ladies, a little older than Lindsey maybe. One was Mazie Dickens—she’s in here a lot—and she apparently went to high school with Bill Marshall and Harry and Bliss, but a few years before them. And her friend apparently is from the same town as Cindilee Marshall, whose maiden name was Parker.”
SueAnn paused to suck in a deep breath, and Jesse used the opportunity to put her phone on speaker and motion to Vivian to stay quiet. Then, SueAnn launched back into the story she had been working up to. “So, anyway, what they ended up remembering was that when Bill and Cindilee got married, it was about two years after Harry and Bliss, and it was kind of a scandal at the time. They had only dated a couple of months, and Mazie remembered that nobody thought Bill was very serious about Cindilee, ‘cause he’d always seemed to have a thing for Bliss that he’d never really gotten over.”
Another pause for a deep breath, while Jesse and Vivian exchanged glances. It may just be gossip, and old gossip at that, but still it was information that promised to be tantalizing…such as, what scandal?
“Then, all of a sudden, Bill and Cindilee were getting married, with practically no engagement to speak of. So, of course, all the gossip said pregnant. Then a couple of months after they got married, she got sick and dropped out of sight for a while. So, the gossip was that she’d miscarried. Then, over the next few years, she would periodically have flu-like symptoms, then drop out of sight, then reappear subdued, then gradually act more normal, then start the whole thing over again.”
After one last quick breath, SueAnn finished with, “Then, over time, she seemed more and more sick, more and more of the time, and everybody stopped waiting for Bill to divorce her and realized that he was never going to leave his invalid wife. Except, according to the lady from Cindilee’s home town, nobody ever knew exactly what was wrong with her.”
“Wow,” Jesse said, impressed with the amount of information SueAnn had gleaned. “Did you get a good tip? Because you must have spent a lot of time hovering around that table.”
SueAnn’s happy giggle rippled through the phone connection. “I did, several of them, in fact. Because the tables I actually hovered over were the tables surrounding the ladies who were talking. I think I might really have a talent for this sort of thing.”
She sounded terribly pleased with herself, and Jesse couldn’t blame her. It might not be anything that mattered, but it was a good chunk of information they hadn’t had before.
Jesse’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle, several grunts, and one cry of outrage before Lindsey’s breathless voice said, “I think we may have created a monster here. Oh, no, you don’t. Stand back, brat. You’ve had your say. Jesse? You still there?”
Lost in thoughts of how much her coworkers sounded like squabbling siblings, and that it was a good thing, wasn’t it, since she had set out to foster a family-like atmosphere at the tea room and had obviously succeeded, Jesse nodded an absent-minded response to Lindsey’s question. The sharp prod of Vivian’s stylishly slender elbow jerked Jesse from her woolgathering.
“Yes,” she said a little too loudly.
“Will you be back here this afternoon?” Lindsey asked. “Say, a little after closing?”
“I’m planning to. Does three o’clockish sound good?”
“Customers should all be gone by then,” Lindsey agreed. “I’ve got to tell you, I’m kind of stunned by how big this thing is turning out to be, and the brunch crowd hasn’t even hit yet.”
“Are you all right? Are you guys handling it okay?” Jesse felt suddenly guilty for being away so much the last two days, even though she didn’t normally work on weekends, anyway.
“Well, you know, we don’t have that many tables. It’s not like we can get completely overrun,” Lindsey said. “It’s not the work that’s overwhelming, it’s the level of enthusiasm these people are displaying. Boy, bring a murder to a small town, and people just go nuts.”
“Murder?” Vivian asked, alarmed. “Are they calling it murder now?”
“Whoa, here comes the lunch crowd. See you this afternoon.”
“OMG,” came SueAnn’s excited voice in the background. “It’s a news truck!” Then the connection went dead.
“Oh, dear heavens.” Vivian lifted a fluttery hand to her forehead. “This is all going out of control.”
Jesse blew out a heavy sigh. “Murder has a tendency to do that.”
“If they’ve ruled it a murder, it won’t be enough just to prove Bliss innocent,” Vivian said, turning a serious gaze to Jesse. “You do realize that, don’t you? We’re going to have to figure out who really did it. Because without that, the suspicion and scandal are going to hang over her for the rest of her life.”
The fatigue that had plagued Jesse since arising that morning, settled over her once again, like a heavy fog clouding her mind and dragging at her tired limbs. “We need more practice at this murder solving. Right now the hill we’re climbing just seems to keep getting higher.”
“I have one thought,” Vivian offered. “Just brain storming on other suspects, Bill Marshall has real possibilities.”
Without lifting her drooping head, Jesse tilted it sideways to look at her elegant, ageless friend. “Other than the obvious business grudge and his possibly coveting another man’s wife, do you have anything else in mind?”
“Well, he has a wife who’s been in poor health for years, without anyone knowing exactly what’s wrong with her. What if he’s been poisoning her slowly for all those years? What if he used that knowledge to get Harold out of the way, by giving him a larger dose of the same poison?”
“That’s pure speculation,” Jesse pointed out.
“So is the evidence against Bliss. That’s how these things are done. You start with speculation, and then you gather evidence to prove or disprove what you imagine might have happened. And in the case of Bill Marshall,” Vivian continued, “I’ve always thought very highly of him, and I’ve never liked that wife of his one bit.”
“Really?” Jesse was surprised. She herself had rather liked Cindilee Marshall, although she had noticed that her own tolerance of other people was more liberal than Vivian’s was. Vivian was also the more astute judge of character.
“She seemed to like you,” Vivian conceded with a shrug. “She and I have never been particularly congenial. It was well understood that Bill only married her because she was pregnant. And when she miscarried almost immediately, I began to wonder if she’d ever been pregnant in the first place, or if it had just been a lie to entrap Bill.”
“That sounds like the conversation SueAnn overhead. Was that the scandal they were referring to?”
“Probably. Then every time Bill seemed restive, the unconfirmed symptoms of morning sickness reappeared, followed a few months later by the hints of miscarriage, and the long-suffering, tragic saga of Cindilee Marshall began to form.” Vivian gave a trademark huff of disdain. “I always thought the woman was a class ‘A’ bitch, myself. And as much as I like Bill personally, desperate men do desperate things.”
“I’m confused. Was she faking it, or was he poisoning her?” If it were anyone other than Vivian, Jesse would chalk the whole story up to the wild imaginings of a small-town gossip. However, Vivian’s more cynical musings were usually too accurate to be discounted.
“In the beginning, I’m almost positive she was faking it. Desperate woman also do desperate things, and she was wildly in love with a man who had no real interest in marrying anyone at the time. But Bill’s not a stupid man. How many years would he have been fooled by her act? Eventually, it’s possible that he devised a plan to rid himself of both the people standing in his way.”
“Wow, that almost makes sense. It’s a shame there’s not a bigger difference between murder solving and character assa
ssination.”
Vivian lifted a dismissive shoulder. “The police do it all the time. I never notice them apologizing.”
“Point taken. I hate to put everything on Bill Marshall, though. Anyone else come to mind as a likely suspect?”
“Maria Ortiz seems very nice, but she was aware of the Ginny Spurber situation and seemed rather upset by Harold’s continuing callous actions. Perhaps she decided to blackmail him and the whole thing got out of hand.”
“Cynicism and suspicion really come in handy, don’t they?” Jesse asked, wondering if this was how law enforcement became jaded.
“Very. And with a little work, considering how much material Harold gave us to work with, I’m sure we can come up with a pretty substantial list of people with some sort of motive for getting rid of him.”
“Okay then, I guess that means we need to start speculating.” Jesse shivered at the thought. “I just need to get over this feeling that we’re starting a witch hunt.”
“Cheer up.” Vivian gave her a bracing pat on the back. “It’s not like anybody’s going to listen to us anyway.”
With that, Jesse dropped her head back into her hands and groaned. Almost immediately, a sharp gasp from Vivian snapped her head back up again.
“What!?”
Vivian pointed toward the front windows, where a county sheriff’s department car was showcased rolling to a halt immediately behind a dark Lincoln that had arrived while they weren’t watching.
Jesse stopped herself just before she groaned again. A sick feeling of dread slowly sank to the pit of her stomach. She looked to Vivian, who was clutching her midriff with one hand and the hollow of her throat with the other. Her face blanched of color, Vivian looked years older instantly.
When Deputy Murphy emerged from her car alone and paused to watch a monarch fluttering by, Jesse and Vivian both exhaled the breaths they had been holding, then exchanged relieved smiles.
“Not yet,” Jesse said, voicing both their thoughts as she watched the pinched lines of her companion’s face soften and the perfect complexion return.
Murder, Mayhem and Bliss (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 1) Page 13