The Big Brush-off

by Michael Murphy

  The kid gave her the once-over. “Sarah? Is that you?”

  “Do you like my dress?” The second baseman on his baseball team twirled like a vaudeville dancer.

  He took another bite and nearly choked. “You look swell, but I thought we were going to play ball.”

  She turned her back. “If you’d rather play ball with your friends, go right ahead. I’ll find someone else to talk to.”

  Freddy looked to me for help, but the kid was on his own.

  He took Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go get a good seat, then I’ll buy you some ice cream.”

  The girl answered with a smile. As the bluegrass band left the stage, the kids headed toward the rapidly filling covered chairs.

  I followed them and sat beside Laura in the third row, behind Freddy and Sarah.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  In the row behind me, Rita Banks handed me a slip of paper. “I found this in my original notes. Maybe it’s important. Maybe it’s not.”

  I opened the paper, and Laura and I scanned the page.

  Laura let out a gasp. “Nancy and Katie auditioned for the role of Princess Teleka. Katie won.”

  Nancy was jealous of Katie and not just over a boy. I handed the paper back to Rita. “Thanks.”

  Father Ryan slowly advanced toward the stage, with Mary Caldwell holding on to his arm. He led her to a seat in the front row and sat beside her.

  Most of the crowd fanned themselves with programs as Hanson held up both hands and thanked everyone for making Founder’s Day possible. He began a speech about the current challenges facing Hanover and presented an optimistic view of the town’s future. As a way to introduce the Founder’s Day re-creation, he talked about the past and how Indians and settlers made peace and set up camp in what today was known as Hanover.

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed someone ride up on a bicycle. Luke Jackson hopped off the bike and stood watching the show.

  In her princess costume, Ginger took the stage with two men in coonskin hats. Hanson took a seat beside his wife as the two settlers jawed about putting down roots in the valley. One man mentioned the Indian problem.

  Ginger began her soliloquy and delivered an emotional performance. She was no Laura, but she made a believable virgin princess. She transported the audience back to the 1700s, but my mind only went back ten years.

  Katie Caldwell, the girl I knew only from pictures, stood on the stage as the Indian princess. In the front row, Mary Caldwell dabbed at her eyes with a hankie. No doubt she was thinking the same thing.

  Nancy stood to the side, just where Laura said she’d be, but Alan was nowhere to be seen. If he didn’t show, our last best chance to find out whether he murdered Katie would vanish.

  Ginger finished to a round of applause. Laura and I stood and cheered, but the loudest ovation came from a clown in the back, whistling with two fingers. Hanson hugged Ginger and thanked the other actors then encouraged everyone to purchase items and enjoy the rest of Founder’s Day.

  I got up, fighting panic as I couldn’t find Alan. I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted him standing on the opposite side of the stage from Nancy.

  Ginger sashayed toward Alan, with her hands behind her back. I couldn’t hear the words but, from her reaction, Alan said something flattering. With Nancy in proximity, however, he wasn’t nearly as brash as he’d been at the inn when Laura and I interrupted him sweet-talking Ginger.

  I reached for Laura’s hand. “So far so good.”

  We stepped into the aisle, and Laura bit her lip. “He’s not going to kiss her.”

  Laura edged her way through the crowd and stood behind Nancy.

  Ginger was bubbly, vivacious, and flirtatious. Her hand occasionally touched his arm as she talked, but Alan never made a move. Still, Ginger did her best to appear to hang on his every word.

  “Damn it.” Alan hadn’t kissed her. I didn’t think he would.

  As more people gathered around to congratulate her, Ginger threw her arms around Alan. She planted a lingering kiss on his mouth. Alan kissed her back.

  Everyone stared. Mary Caldwell, Father Ryan, Sheriff Bishop, George and Evelyn Hanson, and Nancy Oldfield, once a princess herself; nearly everyone I’d talked to since arriving in Hanover, except Luke Jackson.

  When the kiss ended, Alan backed away, clearly embarrassed by the public display of affection, but Ginger met him with a confident smile.

  Nancy turned and nearly bumped into Laura. With a smile, she chatted with my wife like they were old friends who ran into each other at the theater.

  Our plan to make the young woman jealous hadn’t worked. Either that or she was a much better actress than she said she’d been nine years earlier.

  Ginger smiled at me. She’d played a part and performed it well.

  I winked at her and made my way through the crowd. I tapped Laura on the shoulder. “Where’s Nancy?”

  Panic spread across her face. “I have no idea. One minute we were talking about Ginger’s performance. I mentioned how scandalous kissing Alan in public had been. Then I noticed you out of the corner of my eye. I glanced back and she’d disappeared in the crowd. This didn’t turn out at all like I thought. She didn’t appear angry.”

  “Don’t worry.” I led Laura through the throng. “I know where she’s going. She’s going to her house, and your plan is working perfectly. Nancy lied about her acting skills. She’s a regular Sarah Bernhardt. She’s not just angry with Alan, she’s furious.”

  Chapter 35

  Two Fat Cats and One Bear

  As we left the town square, I glanced back at Alan. He was looking around for Nancy, no doubt, but she’d run home. Sheriff Bishop was tailing Alan. Laura’s plan seemed to be working.

  I skidded to a stop. I was right about Nancy’s anger.

  Laura stared into my eyes. “Darling, what’s the matter?”

  Maybe I was wrong, but Nancy wasn’t angry only at Alan. She was furious with Ginger, perhaps like she’d been with Katie ten years earlier, but I had to be sure. “Let’s hurry.”

  As we reached St. Catherine’s, Laura tugged on my arm. “Darling, I think you should wait here.”

  “And do what?”

  Laura nodded. “Okay, you can come with me, but don’t let Nancy see you.”

  We made our way down the street and reached Nancy’s neighborhood. At the corner, Laura squeezed my hand. “Wish me luck.”

  “I’m coming with you.” We stepped onto Nancy’s porch. I pressed my back against the front of the house while Laura knocked. She stood as still as a fence post, as if preparing for the start of a scene she was about to film. She knocked again and called Nancy’s name.

  When no reply came, she tried the door.

  “Nancy’s not here. You should pick the lock.” Laura pulled a pin from her hat and offered it to me.

  I ignored the pin and stepped in front of the door. I raised my foot and kicked. Laura jumped back as wood splintered from the frame. I yanked the door open. “Consider it picked.”

  We stepped inside. Where had Nancy gone, if not home? A bar to drown her sorrows? Not Nancy. A fat calico cat hissed and disappeared into the kitchen.

  The house was tidy and well organized but smelled a little like old towels left in the tub too long. The radio where Nancy listened to Ellery Queen sat on a table next to a rocking chair with a soft corduroy cushion.

  Near the front window was an easel with an unfinished canvas painting of a hot dish in a red dress, the material she admired inside the fabric store.

  I ran my hand along the well-polished surface of a bookcase and glanced at the authors: Dashiell Hammett, Agatha Christie, and Dorothy Sayers. Nancy loved a good mystery.

  I smiled at Laura. “No Jake Donovan.”

  Laura held my arm and whispered, “Where would she go?”

  “She was here.” I pointed to Nancy’s yellow flowered hat lying in the corner as if she’d hurried inside and tossed it aside.

  Laura pick
ed up the hat. “She must’ve gone out the back door. Maybe she saw us following her. Maybe she’s going to confront Alan.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “Not yet.” A sense of dread hit with every step inside her house. “I think we should look around first.”

  Laura sighed and followed me down the hall.

  I opened a door. Nancy used a small bedroom as storage. Boxes were stacked to the ceiling.

  I closed the door and followed Laura into another bedroom, Nancy’s room smelled of furniture polish instead of perfume and nail polish. A dresser with no ribbons or jewelry or bows of any kind, just a brush and rubber bands.

  Two cat beds lay in one corner. Above each was a hand-painted sign: LAUREL and HARDY. Laurel was a well-fed gray tabby who looked up then closed its eyes and went back asleep.

  On the far wall hung an ornate gold picture frame with a photo of a smiling gray-haired woman. Nancy’s mother, no doubt. In the corner were a sewing mannequin and a small table with a sewing pattern. Cream-colored curtains covered the one window in the room.

  The bed was a different story. A brown teddy bear, the kind a boy won for a girl at a carnival, sat in the middle of a bed with a pink bedspread trimmed in lace. I never would’ve pictured the girl Freddy called the Prune having a frilly room with pink and lace.

  Laura walked to the other side of the room and stopped at the side of the bed. She clutched at her neck. “Jake, tell me if this is what I think it is.”

  I walked around the bed and looked over Laura’s shoulder. A wooden box with a latch and a lock with a key in it sat beside the bed. Laura stepped aside and I looked inside the box. “It’s what you think it is.”

  We’d been right about Alan cheating on Katie in high school. He cheated with Nancy.

  I picked up a handful of .32 caliber bullets. The same caliber gun someone used to fire a bullet into Katie’s corpse. “It’s a gun case for a .32 she must’ve kept under the bed.”

  Ginger’s kiss with Alan had worked. Nancy ran inside, tossed her hat down, and grabbed her gun. I’d suspected a half-dozen people close to Katie, but not the person who’d been the girl’s best friend growing up.

  Maybe I’d spent too much time focusing on my novel instead of solving Katie’s murder. Perhaps a decade of memories, regrets, and recurring dreams had clouded my focus and objectivity. Was I too late? Laura set one hand on my shoulder and peered inside the box. “We’d better hurry back and warn Alan.”

  Bishop would be there to stop Nancy before she did anything stupid, but I was certain that jealous Nancy was going after someone else, just like ten years ago when she took the same gun to Katie’s house. “She’s not going after Alan.”

  Laura let out a yelp. “Oh, Jake. She’s going after Ginger!”

  Chapter 36

  Lady and the Tramp

  Laura and I ran outside Nancy’s house. At least Ginger was surrounded by hundreds of people celebrating Founder’s Day. We sprinted back to the town square, keeping an eye out for Nancy. We didn’t see her. When we reached the park, Laura and I sucked in gulps of air. I wiped sweat from my brow and spotted a clown eating an ice cream cone.

  Edwin took a step back as we rushed toward him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Where’s Ginger?”

  “Ginger! She went home, and I’m glad she did. She should be ashamed, kissing a man in public like that. She’s just a girl.”

  Laura patted Edwin’s hand. “That wasn’t Ginger. It was my idea.”

  Edwin’s eyes widened. “Your idea. Why would…”

  “We’ll explain later,” I said. “How long ago?”

  Edwin scratched the back of his head. “I guess not too long after the pageant.”

  I took Laura’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  We ran toward the inn. When Laura lagged behind, I grabbed her hand. We reached the inn and climbed the steps, sucking in gulps of air. On the deck, Freddy puffed on a Lucky Strike and handed it to Sarah, who hid the cigarette behind her back. He jumped up from his chair.

  Still winded, Laura gasped. “Ginger.”

  Freddy cocked his head. “What about her?”

  “Where is she?”

  Freddy shook his head. “I assume she’s at the town square signing autographs or making out with Alan Tremain.”

  Sarah giggled. “It got too hot for ice cream, so we came here.”

  If Ginger didn’t go to the inn, she had to be home.

  I took a deep breath. “Have you seen Nancy?”

  They both shook their heads.

  Laura and I hurried past the young couple. Laura followed as I dashed behind the counter and out the back door. When Ginger wasn’t outside, we ran to the house.

  “Wait, Jake.” Laura opened her purse and handed me the .38. I didn’t want to use the gun, but I’d do whatever was necessary to save Ginger.

  I held one finger to my lips and tried the door. I slipped inside, with Laura right behind me. I pointed to Ginger’s open door.

  A sound came from the bedroom, a fearful sob. With my gun behind my back, I tiptoed to the doorway and peeked inside, with Laura on my shoulder.

  Nancy spun toward the door and aimed her .32 at me. “What are you doing here?”

  I whispered, “Wait here.” I tucked the gun in the back of my trousers and stepped into the room, arms raised. “I came to see if everything’s all right. I’m glad I did.”

  Nancy aimed her gun at Ginger, curled into a ball on her bed, streaks streaming down her cheeks. The trembling redhead glanced at me with a hint of hopefulness in her eyes.

  Laura stepped into the room. “What have I done? Ginger, I’m so sorry.”

  Nancy gestured toward Laura and me. “Stay away from her. Get your hands up and your backs to the wall.”

  We raised our hands and stood against the wall, where pictures of Gable, Harlow, and William Powell hung. I had to talk Nancy out of this. “Ginger’s not interested in Alan.”

  Laura nodded. “That’s the honest truth.”

  Nancy’s mouth curled in disgust. “Lips don’t lie.”

  Laura held out both hands. “This whole thing was my idea. My crazy stupid idea to make you jealous.”

  Laura’s plan worked perfectly, except Nancy’s jealousy went much further than either of us imagined. She didn’t direct her anger at Alan, but at a girl he seemed to like, Ginger.

  Nancy stared at Laura. “Why would you want to do that?”

  With one gun and three people to keep an eye on, Nancy had a lot to consider. I felt confident I could draw my weapon and shoot her before she shot me, Laura, or Ginger, but I didn’t want to kill the troubled young woman. I wanted her to go to prison for murdering Katie.

  I had to put the squeeze on Nancy and keep her anger from Ginger. “We found out about you and Alan. We wanted to make you angry enough that you’d tell us what happened the night Katie was murdered. When we came up with this plan, we thought Alan had killed Katie, but now it’s clear you killed her. You got away with murder for ten years.”

  Ginger gasped. The bed squeaked as she pressed herself back against the wall and pulled a pillow close.

  “It wasn’t murder.” The gun trembled in Nancy’s hand. “It was an accident.”

  When tears flowed from Ginger’s eyes, Laura dropped her hands. She walked to Ginger’s bed and sat beside the girl.

  Nancy gestured with her gun. “Get back against the wall, Miss Wilson.”

  Laura wrapped her arms around Ginger, comforting her and flashing Nancy a go-ahead-and-shoot sneer.

  I turned slightly, kept one hand raised, reached behind my back with the other, and gripped the gun handle, hoping I didn’t have to use my Smith & Wesson. I nodded toward the .32 in Nancy’s hand. “That’s the gun you used to shoot Katie, the gun you brought here to kill Ginger with.”

  “I…I didn’t come here to kill Ginger, just to scare her and tell her to stay away from…from Alan.”

  “The same thing y
ou did ten years ago when you went to Katie’s house. You wanted to claim Alan as your prize back then. You wanted Katie to give him up and stay away from him, but you weren’t able to convince her, were you? Something went wrong. You struggled, and you hit her with the trophy.”

  “No, it didn’t happen that way.” A tear slid down Nancy’s cheek. Her gun shook in her trembling hand. “I’d hardly call it a struggle. Katie shoved me. I pushed her back. She slipped on a movie magazine and hit her head on the trophy. She fell and when she didn’t get up, I thought she was acting. I waited for her to quit acting and get up.”

  “But she didn’t get up.” I took a step away from the wall.

  Nancy wiped a tear from her eye. “That’s when I noticed blood on the side of Katie’s hair. She was dead. It was an accident, but the law would say it was my fault for going there. I know. I read a lot of mystery novels.”

  I took another step toward her. “And you listen to Ellery Queen.”

  She glared at Laura a moment but kept her gun leveled at me. “That’s right. I couldn’t believe what happened. I was frantic. I threw the trophy at the wall. I was furious because I knew what people in this town would think, I was some kind of tramp who murdered Miss Goody Two-shoes.”

  Everything Nancy said matched the crime scene. Everyone missed the possibility a jealous teenage girlfriend killed Katie, including me.

  Laura rose and set both hands on her hips. “Your best friend was dead and you were worried about what people would think?”

  Nancy shouted, “I was a good girl who read books and learned to sew. When we got to high school, I stayed a good girl, ‘a young lady,’ Mama called me, while Katie used makeup, wore smelly perfume, and flirted with every boy in school. When Mama got sick, I cared for her every day, while my former best friend sneaked Alan into her room after her mother left for work. Katie was the tramp, not me, and no one knew.”

  Nancy provided a far different picture of Katie than any I’d imagined.

  Laura’s eyes showed she felt sorry for the young woman. Her soothing voice returned. “How did you get involved with Alan?”