Barbara Graham - Quilted 03 - Murder by Music

by Barbara Graham

  In the midst of people leaving, heading for their cars, Theo overheard a raspy male voice say, “I'm sorry she's dead, but I guess that makes me a free man.”

  And a woman's voice drowned out by the noises of the crowd had agreed. Theo tried to maneuver the wheelchair to find the source of the voices. It was impossible to do so in the crush of mourners.

  “Theo.” Martha charged through the crowd and grabbed the wheelchair handles. “What are you doing out here alone? Where's Katti?”

  “We got separated.” Theo leaned forward, searching for a flash of pink. “I think I'd better wait here for her.”

  “I'll wait with you.”

  “Shouldn't you be teaching?” Theo didn't want to admit her sudden unease at being alone in the disorganized crowd.

  “Not this afternoon.” Martha grabbed the wheelchair and pulled it out of the path of four men walking abreast, deep in conversation. “With the funeral in the gym, the high school students went home at noon. Elementary is still in session.”

  Theo relaxed. At least she hadn't misplaced her sons. She smiled at Miss Flossie, who was picking her way between the tombstones. The old woman fumbled with the buttons on her coat. The glint of a heavy gold necklace with a single large ruby, winked at Theo and disappeared.

  “Hey, Tony.” The voice on the phone was one he had heard only a few times and could never forget: the accent was North Dakota meets Appalachia. Today it positively rang with excitement.

  “Hey Lars, what did you find?” Tony held his breath. Lars had been given the coveralls to work his magic on.

  “I'm still picking bits of evidence off the outside of your coveralls, but I found some really great hairs on the inside.”

  Tony heard the sound a keyboard clicking before the voice came back. “I have enough hairs to run nine kinds of tests on them and share the extras with you. Who knows, maybe you'll recognize the color and length.”

  “We're small, but we've got a few people living here.”

  A laugh like a donkey's bray came through the receiver. “Okay, point taken. Maybe carry them around to your three beauty shops. I'll bet one of them has seen the dye job.”

  Tony felt like tap dancing down the hall. A real clue. “I'll have someone pick up the hairs in two hours at the latest.”

  In Silersville, there were actually four full time beauty parlors, as Tony thought of them. Prudence Sligar Holt threatened to throw him into the street when he said something along those lines to her. The champion arm-wrestler and part-time psychic wasn't someone he wanted to antagonize. Although he thought one of the members of the “catfish guerillas” ought to be a bit more gracious to the sheriff.

  “I run a salon.”

  “Fair enough,” said Tony. He held the hair sample encased in a plastic sleeve. “Does this hair ring any bells?”

  Prudence studied it carefully, holding it up like she was comparing it to hair on a head. Then she picked up a metal ring with gradated color samples, short braids, and picked out one. “Here's your color.”

  “I'm impressed.” Tony stared at the color sample, trying to imagine that shade of hair on anyone he'd seen. He touched the sample ring. “Would everyone using the same dye match exactly?”

  “No. The chemical formulas are not identical from brand to brand, but the end result could be too close to call.”

  “Do you know anyone who might match?”

  “Yes, several folks.” Prudence began flipping through a notebook and stopped, turning the page to face him. “These women and a man.” She watched while Tony made a note of the names. “These are just the ones I do. I'd bet every stylist”—she emphasized the word—“has a minimum of three similar. It's a good color, not brassy, and this length”—Prudence waved to Tony's hair sample—“is neither long nor short. It could be a man or woman.”

  Somewhat crushed, Tony thanked her. He had hoped for a miracle. What he had was a clue and the cause for more questions. The investigation would take a while, but a conclusion would be reached.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Tony stood by the side of the highway connecting Park County to the back side of the national park. It was a beautiful road, full of twists and turns, and had no shoulder in areas where the road was cut through stone. At one of the turnoffs, a boiled peanut vendor had set up a makeshift store in the back of his pickup. He recognized Old Nem by the mustard and green sport coat he wore when he was working. It had seen decades of use and still hadn't worn out. Most of the year, Old Nem was simply “the egg man.” Today he had his wares arranged neatly, and his mongrel dog and constant companion, Lucy Two, stood next to his cash drawer—a rusty coffee can covered with aluminum foil.

  Lucy Two wasn't much of a deterrent to crime. Anytime a person got within five feet of her, she'd roll over onto her back, legs sticking up, and wait to have her belly scratched. If she ever growled at someone, it was time to pay attention. Old Nem wasn't a criminal, in Tony's mind. Tony thought the old guy simply didn't understand the concept of needing permission to park where he wanted and sell his eggs and peanuts.

  Writing him a citation would be a waste of time and money. There were few citizens in the county who hadn't eaten eggs or peanuts they'd bought from Nem. He was honest and trustworthy and helped out in the community.

  Tony handed him five dollars for some peanuts. “Have you been out here long today?”

  “Yep.”

  “I've been getting reports of signs being shot with a .22.” Tony pointed toward the sign behind him. It was so peppered with holes, the black numbers were impossible to discern.

  Nem looked over Tony's shoulder at the speed limit sign. “Yep.”

  “In your travels around the county selling your eggs and peanuts, have you witnessed anyone shooting with a .22?”

  “Yep.”

  “Would you tell me who it is?”

  “Yep.”

  Tony busted out laughing. Old Nem joined in, and Lucy Two yapped and ran in a circle. “So who is it?”

  “Man in a black truck.”

  Tony guessed there were more .22 rifles in Park County than black trucks, but it was a starting place.

  “I tell you what made me afeared.” Old Nem's voice dropped to a whisper. “That crazy Nellie Pearl carries her rifle down to the road and shoots at them automobiles.”

  The idea of Nellie Pearl Prigmore shooting at passing cars was serious. The old woman's dementia seemed to worsening rapidly. She wouldn't talk to her daughter. The only person she seemed to trust, at least on alternate Tuesdays, was Sheila Teffeteller, the only female deputy in his department. Nellie Pearl had some respect for his badge and office, if not for him. He was an outsider because he didn't move to Silersville until he was eight.

  “Thanks, Nem, I appreciate the help.” Tony scratched Lucy Two one more time before climbing in his official vehicle.

  Tony left a message with the highway department to have the sign replaced.

  With the excitement of the funeral over, Theo remembered she needed to pay Lila for the silver shawl and wheeled herself across the street, leaving Katti to help Gretchen unpack a new shipment of fabric.

  Lila was busy with a customer, so Theo rolled toward the photo wall. She saw a picture of herself and Lila at the grand opening of her quilt shop. Had she really ever been that thin? She glanced down at her massive belly and sighed. More photographs celebrated events they had both attended. Lila posed with a variety of men and women, famous and not.

  One photograph in particular caught Theo's eye. Why hadn't she noticed it before? The man standing next to Lila was a politician from a neighboring state. What was unusual was the heart-shaped birthmark just below his jaw. It looked just like the one she'd seen on Patrick MacLeod's neck at breakfast.

  Lila's customer departed. Positive she knew who'd fathered Elf's baby, Theo rolled past a poster advertising tuxedo rentals and stopped at the cash register. “I'm here to pay for the shawl.”

  “I almost forgot.” Lila opened a drawer and
pulled out not only the sales slip for the shawl, but the book missing from Theo's workshop. “Miss Flossie was here.”

  Theo asked what Flossie had taken from Lila but only got a slight shrug for an answer.

  “You don't know much about women, do you?” Theo stared up at Tony, holding the copy of the music Elf had been composing. “Her baby's heart. Her lover's heart. She couldn't stand it. The jealousy was eating her alive.”

  “She? You mean Lila?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why? Her boyfriend's affair with Elf ended a quarter of a century ago.” He shook his head. “How long does jealousy last?”

  “In Lila's case, forever.” Theo rubbed her belly. “He had children with his wife. He had children with both of Summer Flowers' girls. Lila probably craved one of her own, and he wouldn't give her one. It wasn't just jealousy, it was also blackmail. Her silence was probably very expensive.”

  Theo had described the photographs and the man with the heart-shaped birthmark to Tony. Her most convincing information was Miss Flossie's exchange of Theo's book for Scarlet's necklace. “Lila must have been frantic when she saw the necklace was gone.”

  Tony and Wade sat opposite Lila and her attorney. Carl Lee tried to get Lila to remain silent, but she wasn't listening to his advice.

  “No. I want to explain.”

  Tony was shocked. He'd known Lila for most of his life. She'd always seemed so nice. Friendly. Normal. “What happened to Scarlet?”

  “I knew she was staying up at The Lodge. I drove up and parked in the lot like everyone else. It didn't take much thinking to find her room. I just took a key from the drawer and went up.” Lila's fingers mimicked playing with an invisible dulcimer string. “I sat in the bathroom, in the dark, running my fingers over the string. Her sister made a fortune playing music.” Her lips curled. “And even with all her money, she made my darling pay and pay.”

  “Why wait in the bathroom?” Wade leaned forward.

  “I figured that the less I moved around, the less likely I would be to leave evidence. I didn't want to take a chance, even though I was wearing those nasty, smelly oil-stained overalls.”

  “And the dark?” said Tony.

  “I was afraid the light might shine under the door and scare her off. The last thing I needed was to have a whole gaggle of women barging in, trapping me in the bathroom.”

  “Go on.” Tony wanted to get through this and go home.

  “It felt like I sat in there for days. I almost left, but finally I heard the key in the door. I stood up and caught her from behind the second she was in the room. I wrapped the string around and around her neck and jerked hard. Her neck snapped. She never knew what happened.”

  Tony felt a chill. Lila was the picture of disappointment, and her voice sounded plaintive.

  “I did want her to know I did it. I was the one who killed her. She claimed I was weak. I wanted her to see I am not a worm.”

  “Why did you drop her outside? Why not just leave her in her room?”

  “That's where my plan got confused. I thought if I pushed her into the bushes from the balcony, it might look like an accident and then it would be perfect. Just some trash. But every time I wanted to do it, I would hear someone talking in the hall, so I decided that it would be real late before I would be able to leave.” She started talking faster and faster. “One time I saw a TV show where the body was kept warm and the time of the death was all confused. I thought it might be better if I had an alibi, you know, just in case. So I wrapped her up and put her near the heat.” Sweat was pouring off Lila's face now, and she was gasping for breath. “By the time the hotel got quiet, I was so freaked out I couldn't think straight. I took the jewelry. I figured I could hock it safely the next time I was on a buying trip to some city. I couldn't believe that batty old lady took the necklace. I saw her wearing it at Elf's funeral and knew it was only a matter of time before you found out.”

  “Did you kill her for the money?” said Wade.

  “No.” Lila's eyes filled with tears. “She owed me more than money.”

  “Why?” Tony guessed he was missing something big.Something Theo understood. “What made you hate her and her sister?”

  “They tainted my love.” Lila looked surprised. “They both tempted him with their bodies. They both carried his children.”

  “I knew about Elf's baby, of course, but Scarlet's?”

  “Oh, hers died.” Lila's smile was just short of triumphant. “But even it had the birthmark. I hated them all.”

  “Blackmail wouldn't have been necessary if he was a better man.” Tony doubted two lonely girls seduced by an adult were anything but victims of another type of criminal. “What happened to Elf?”

  Clearly furious, Lila slammed her hands on the table, half rising from her chair. “She promised not to tell.”

  “And she kept her promise, even from her son.”

  Lila's head moved sharply from side to side. “She was writing her memoirs, wasn't she? I couldn't trust that she wouldn't tell.”

  “How did you get into the motor home?”

  “I saw her driver go into his space.” Lila's expression became dreamy, like she was recalling a pleasant event. “I still had the coveralls in my car, so I pulled them on over my dress. She let me in. Everyone acts like she was something wonderful, but she was stupid. Stupid Elf.”

  Tony saw Carl Lee try again to silence her. Lila shook her head.

  “I'm not stupid like Elf.” Lila hissed. “She said she was working on a special song. She was distracted, kind of spacey. When I asked her what it was about, she said it was a song about her baby.”

  “Patrick?”

  “There it was on the table. All about her little heart. No one else would understand, but I did. Elf went to get us some wine. While she was in the kitchen, I took the sheet of paper and folded it up and put it in my pocket.” Lila's eyes were wild and spittle flew from her lips. “I pulled out the dulcimer string and waited.”

  “The music was in her mouth.” Tony checked his notes.

  “Oh, she plopped down on her chair and poured the wine like we were old friends having a party. Can you imagine?” Lila went quiet.

  Carl Lee opened his mouth, but she shook her head.

  “I gave her the chance to apologize, to promise to leave him alone.”

  “And?” Tony prompted.

  “And nothing. She yawned like she was bored. Didn't even cover her mouth. I fixed her good—shoved the paper into her open mouth and tied her voice shut. She'll never sing that wretched song.”

  Tony and Wade walked into the hall, and Tony glanced back. “It's like she doesn't realize what ‘dead’ means.”

  A week later, Tony arrived home just as a truck pulled up in front of their home. Sitting proudly on the flatbed trailer was the brightest yellow SUV Tony had ever seen. Painted to resemble quilt blocks was “Theo” in huge block letters, extending the length of the vehicle on both sides.

  “It's hideous.” Tony murmured into his wife's ear as he rolled her chair down the ramp.

  “It's gorgeous!” Theo bounced in her excitement. “I can't wait to drive it, or at least ride in it. Let's take it to the Marmots' party.”

  So Tony drove, embarrassed by the gaudy car but secretly thrilled by Mr. Beasley's kindness.

  When they arrived at the dump for Claude and Katti's wedding celebration, he decided the SUV wasn't too bright for him after all.

  At least it wasn't pink.

  Pink paper lanterns hung from the Marmots' trees. Pink crepe paper streamers covered the ceiling in the living room. Even the appliances in the kitchen were pink. A huge red velvet cake with bubble gum−pink icing sat on the dining room table surrounded by a stack of pink plates and napkins.

  Theo showed him the brand new pink and brown quilt proudly displayed in the bedroom, accented with a pink satin pillow with “Katti” embroidered in brown letters and a brown satin pillow with “Claude” in pink.

  It made Theo's y
ellow car look rather washed out.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Barbara Graham has loved mysteries “forever” and wonders what could be more fun than making up people and then killing them off. Legally, that is. She began making up stories in the third grade and immediately quit learning to multiply and divide. Her motto is “Every story needs a dead body and every bed needs a quilt.”

  An enthusiastic, if dreadful, gardener, she is a prize-winning quilter. Her quilts have been in calendars and magazines, as well as displayed in shows. Her favorite quilts are the well-loved and frayed ones that get hugged every day.

  Married to a wonderful man who can do math in his head and the mother of two perfect sons, she has acquired a fabulous daughter-in-law.

  Visit her website at www.bgmysteries.com.