by Jane Tesh
“And everybody dies.”
“Yep. Beverly Sills was the composer’s favorite Baby Doe. You’ve got to hear this aria.”
The downstairs parlor used to be where Jerry held his séances. He surprised me by hiring Nell to paint the walls bright yellow, and then he parked a gleaming golden-brown baby grand piano in one corner. He went inside his music room to root through his CDs. After a while, a beautiful soprano voice soared to impossibly high notes. Jerry came back to the porch. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s gorgeous.”
“It’s called ‘The Willow Song.’ That’s what Baby Doe is singing when Tabor first sees her. Love at first sight for both of them, although Baby Doe knows he’s the richest man in Colorado, so I think she was a bit of a schemer.”
“This is too strange,” I said. “Wendall calls Flora ‘Baby.’”
Jerry laughed. “Baby Flo! Perfect.”
“What exactly happens in this opera? Does anyone get murdered? I want to be ready.”
“No. There’s a lot of singing about gold becoming more popular than silver, and Tabor backs the wrong man for president, so there’s a lot of singing about that, too. At the end of the opera, Tabor is broke and ill. He spends a long time having a breakdown and dies in Baby Doe’s arms. The real Baby Doe froze to death in her cabin at the silver mine.”
“These stories are always so cheerful. What about the ex-wife?”
“Her name is Augusta, and when Tabor loses everything, she sings about wanting to help him because she still loves him, but she doesn’t go back to him.”
“I seriously doubt Larissa wants to go back to Wendall. She won the gold medal in the If Looks Could Kill competition today. She even had one for me.”
“You? What did you do?”
“I’m married to the man who took her theater job. Evan says she often pulls this trick so he’ll beg her to stay.”
“Too bad. It’s my job now,” he said. “I like Oklahoma. It’s not as stirring as Ballad of Baby Doe, but at least everyone comes out of it alive—no, wait, everyone except Jud, but he’s a complete villain. No one’s really evil in Baby Doe.”
The music had changed from Beverly Sills’ glorious soprano to a strident female voice singing her demands and wanting to know what Horace Tabor had been up to. I didn’t even know this opera and I felt sorry for him.
“When are Oklahoma rehearsals?”
“Tryouts are tomorrow night, and rehearsals will be every weeknight from seven until nine or ten.”
That should cut down on Jerry’s scheming time. “What about the Christmas cantata?”
“‘The Glory of Christmas’ is in the bag. I called the church this morning to tell them I’d do it.”
“Can you do both productions?”
“Sure. You know how Wednesdays are around here.”
I had been surprised to find out that Wednesday nights in Celosia most people went to church, usually for choir practice, but also for family night dinners and Bible study groups. “So Evan will let you off on Wednesday night?”
“Up until the last two weeks. Oklahoma opens the end of November, and the cantata’s not until December fourteenth.”
I felt a sense of relief. Two things to keep him occupied. No, wait, I’d almost forgotten about Billie. “There’s something else you can do,” I said. “My friend Billie Tyson called and told me she and her husband had been the victims of a con. She’d like to hire both of us to find the people responsible.”
“What happened?”
“We’re going to meet tomorrow so she can fill me in. Sound interesting?”
“I’ll be glad to help. How about your other case? Anything new to report?”
“The search is on for Pamela’s missing letter.”
“Any clues?”
“Nothing exciting. It’s buried in mounds of papers she’s been collecting for most of her adult life. I have to sift through several file boxes and stacks.”
“What’s so important about it? Are we going to get to solve another riddle?”
“Again, nothing as thrilling as a mysterious riddle. The letter gives her permission to build onto her shop.”
“So we both have jobs. Peace reigns once again in the Fairweather household.”
“I’m taking advantage of this peace to do a little art,” I said.
Uncle Val had used the upstairs parlor as his study. When we first saw it, it was a typical Victorian parlor with overstuffed chairs, a marble-topped table, an old phonograph, and bookshelves filled with leather-bound copies of the classics. I kept the table with its fancy glass lamp and the bookshelves, but the phonograph and chairs went to an antique dealer. I moved in my easels, paper, and art supplies and converted the space into a studio. The light was perfect, and there was plenty of room to spread out my projects and leave them until I’d finished. I was halfway through a landscape of the fields around our house and spent a constructive hour shading in some grass and getting the clouds just the way I wanted them. In this blissful state, I forgot about Wendall and Larissa, Pamela’s letter, Denisha’s concerns, even poor frozen Baby Doe. But something nagged at the back of my thoughts. I finally put down my brush and gave the picture a critical look. It wasn’t the picture. The picture was coming along fine.
It was my growing indecisiveness about children. For years I’d been completely against having a baby, and I’d told everyone there was no way I was going to change my mind. Now I wasn’t so sure. A little boy would be all right, but my mother would snatch up a little girl and try to turn her into a pageant princess, just as she’d done to me. No, Jerry and I wouldn’t let that happen. Our little girl could be an artist, or a musician, or even a private investigator.
Wait. What was I saying? I was not going to have a baby! My wonderful, orderly life, remember? Investigate, paint, sit on the porch, repeat as necessary. That’s what I liked. Having a baby would change all that.
But you could handle it, my little inner voice said in a wheedling tone. You’re a strong woman who can handle anything, as your husband pointed out, and you could definitely keep your child out of your mother’s clutches.
“Be quiet,” I told the little voice. “No baby. Not now.”
Just as Jerry announced supper was ready, and I came down the stairs, Austin Terrell and a little blonde girl rode up the pathway through the field and parked their bikes under one of the large oak trees in our front yard. Austin’s hair was in its usual colorful spikes, but he didn’t come galloping into the house in his usual rodeo style. He waited for the girl and knocked politely on the screen door.
I let them in. “Hello, Austin.”
“Hi, Madeline.” He turned to the girl beside him. “This is my friend, Kennedy Marshall.”
“Hello, Kennedy,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
She shook my hand. She was indeed a beautiful little girl with a sweet smile. She was dressed all in pink, her blond hair held back with a pink headband.
“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Fairweather.”
“You can call her Madeline,” Austin said. “She doesn’t mind. Is Jerry here?”
“He’s in the kitchen.”
I followed them to the kitchen where Austin made his introductions, and Jerry asked Kennedy if she’d like to stay for supper.
“No, thank you,” she said. “As soon as my mom picks up my sisters from piano practice, we’re all going to Deely’s.”
“Kennedy has three sisters,” Austin said. “Madison, Tyler, and Reagan.”
“Are your parents interested in politics?” Jerry asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “How did you know?”
Austin obviously had a plan. “I wanted Kennedy to meet you, Jerry, ‘cause I knew you’d be interested in seeing the Wow System in action, so maybe we could bring it over sometime.”
“Sure,”
he said.
Austin grinned at Kennedy. “See? I told you he’d say yes. Well, we gotta go. See you later.”
There didn’t seem to be anything romantic about Austin’s behavior, but I had to find out. At the door, I said, “Austin, hang on a second. I have some more paper for you.”
Austin had shown a talent for sketching and liked the type of drawing paper I had. I went upstairs and grabbed a handful. As I’d hoped, Kennedy went on out to her bike while Austin waited on the porch.
“I see you have a girlfriend, Austin.”
He looked scornful. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
I didn’t think so. “She’s awfully pretty.”
“She’s got the only Wow in town. That’s the only reason I hang out with her. Thanks for the paper.”
“Well,” I told Jerry when I returned to the kitchen, “that’s the easiest case I ever solved.”
“So Denisha has nothing to worry about?”
“Austin said the only reason he hangs out with Kennedy is because she’s got the only Wow in town.”
Jerry grinned and gave me a kiss. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
I returned the favor. “Thank you. What’s for supper?”
“Chicken and rice.”
I helped myself to a large portion and brought my plate to the table. There was a stack of envelopes next to the butter dish. “Is this today’s mail? I hope there aren’t any bills.”
“I didn’t see any.”
There was one envelope addressed to both of us. The return address was a post office box in Parkland. “Any idea what this might be?”
He brought his plate over and sat down. “Nope. I thought I’d wait till you got home to open it.”
“Looks serious.” I opened the envelope, took out the letter, and read it. “Oh, my lord.” It was serious. “What’s this? Jerry, you’re being sued!”
“What?” He came around for a better look. As he read, his eyes got wide. “What the hell?”
“This claims you cheated some woman named Denby Forest out of her life’s savings. You said you weren’t going to do this anymore! You promised.”
“Mac, I swear on my life I had nothing to do with this. I never met a Denby Forest. I never cheated anyone out of their life’s savings.”
I was so angry and upset, I was shaking. Last month, someone Jerry had scammed recognized him and sent her very large boyfriend to collect what Jerry owed her. Fortunately, I had enough money to pay off this man before Jerry became part of the pavement. “How many of these past mistakes are we going to have to deal with?”
He reread the letter. “I’m telling you I didn’t do this—here, wait a minute. Look. It isn’t something from my past. Check out the date.”
The paper stated that Jeremyn Nicholas Fairweather had performed a séance in Millersberg on August 15, whereby he allegedly spoke to her dead uncle and had convinced Denby Forest the uncle wanted her to invest all her money in Double Delite Doughnuts. She did. Double Delite Doughnuts immediately went under, taking her savings with it. She was suing us for a million dollars.
“Think about it,” Jerry said. “August 15. Where was I? Here with you trying to fix up my house. When did I ever go to Millersberg? I don’t even know where that is.”
I was trying to be calm. “Okay, maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity. Maybe there’s another con man with the same name.” Which was highly unlikely.
“Mac, I never use my real name, especially not my full name. This is somebody who knows me.”
“That’s even worse.”
The letter had been typed on high quality paper. At the top was the name “Hadley Boyles, Attorney At Law,” the post office box address, and a phone number.
“We’d better clear this up right away.” I took out my cell phone and called the number. A recorded voice said, “Thank you for calling the law offices of Hadley Boyles. Our office hours are nine to five, Monday through Friday. If you’d like to leave a message, please do so after the beep. Thank you.” The recording beeped, but I didn’t leave a message. “They’re closed for today, and I’d rather speak to a real person.”
Jerry had his own cell phone in hand. “If there is one. I’m calling around.”
“You think this is some sort of scam? Why would this woman try to con us out of a million dollars when it’s obvious we don’t have that kind of money?”`
“I know this is some sort of scam.”
I thought of something else. “Wasn’t Nell working here on the fifteenth? She could provide you with an alibi.”
“I’m not going to need an alibi.”
“Jerry, what if this is real?”
He had started to punch in a number. He paused. “Mac, believe me, I’m speaking from experience. Somebody’s trying to scare us.”
“Do you have any idea who might be using your name?”
“I’m checking with Del right now.”
Del was one of Jerry’s friends in Parkland. He owned a pawn shop and seemed like a reasonable fellow. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”
“No, but he’ll know who’s in town.”
I listened as Jerry held a terse conversation with Del. “Just let me know, okay?” Jerry said. “This had to be sometime this summer. Is Frankie out yet? How about Allan?” He listened for a while. “Could she be holding a grudge?” He laughed. “You’re kidding! Okay. Thanks.” He closed his phone. “Del says it sounds like something Honor Perkins would do. He’s going to ask around.”
This was getting even more absurd. “Wait a minute. Honor Perkins? There’s a con woman named Honor?”
“Nice, huh?”
“Will you please tell me exactly what is going on?”
“I’m not sure, but Honor may still be mad at me for a little incident that happened a while ago. This may be her way of trying to get back. This letter doesn’t look like a real summons. It’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll take care of it.”
I gave him a long hard stare. He looked so innocent and unconcerned I could see why fooling people came easily to him. After a while, I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I accused you so quickly, but honestly, your reputation doesn’t make things easy.”
“My former reputation, Mac. I have a new one now, remember? Camp Counselor Jerry Fairweather?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I just hate for things like this to keep happening.”
“Like I said, I’ll take care of it.”
Chapter Five
On top of everything else, there was Jerry’s séance to get through. We arrived at Deely’s to find a small crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. This didn’t bother Jerry in the least. I’m sure he was hoping to drum up business.
Deely didn’t stay for the séance, saying he didn’t hold with that kind of thing and reminding Annie to make sure everything was locked up when we were through. He had set up a card table and folding chairs in the back room of the restaurant, which was really a storage room filled with boxes of paper plates and napkins and cleaning supplies. Jerry had brought along his own candle. He lit the candle and set it in the center of the table.
“Okay, Annie, you sit here by me. Who’s this with you?”
“Two of my best friends and my Aunt Louise, Aunt Gloria’s sister. She’s really hoping Gloria comes through.”
Aunt Louise was a grim-faced woman whose tiny eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Got a few things to discuss with her.”
Jerry gave me a wry grin. Let’s see you handle this one, I thought.
The women sat down, and everyone held hands. “Mac, if you’d get the lights, please.”
I turned off the lights. The faces around the table looked ghostly in the candlelight.
“This may take a few minutes,” Jerry said. “Don’t be disappointed if nothing happens. The spirit world has its own rules.”
&n
bsp; Jerry Fairweather rules. I was always amazed that anyone could take this nonsense seriously.
Annie timidly raised her hand. “Will we be able to speak to her directly?”
“Yes, if your aunt comes through, you can ask her your questions.” He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “I call to the spirit world. I request your guidance. We wish to speak to Annie’s Aunt Gloria. Come to me. Show me the way.” There was a pause, and then he spoke in a distant voice. “Annie? Is that you?”
Annie leaned forward. “Aunt Gloria?”
“Yes, child.”
Her friends giggled, and Aunt Louise frowned. Annie spoke in a timid voice. “Aunt Gloria, I need your advice. Robbie Wilcox is getting serious, but so is Tim Farris. I don’t know what to do.”
“Trust your feelings, my dear. Do you love one of them?”
“I think I love Robbie. I’m not sure.”
“Tell both young men you need time to sort out your emotions. If the one you love truly loves you, he’ll be willing to wait.”
Annie looked pleased. Then Aunt Louise broke in. “Gloria, where is my money?”
“What money, dear sister?”
“You know very well what money. The money that was supposed to come to me. I know you were angry with Papa for favoring me, and you took it and hid it, so you’d better tell me right now where it is, or so help me, I’ll leap over to the other side and make certain you’re twice dead!”
Jerry made some strangled noises in his throat and let go of their hands. He blinked and made a great show of coming back to earth. “Sorry. There was a disruption, and all the spirits disappeared. Did Gloria come through?”
Aunt Louise gave a snort. “Came through and ran off, like she always did when faced with a hard decision!”
“I was real happy with what she told me,” Annie said. “Thanks, Jerry.”
Aunt Louise smacked the table. “Well, I’m not happy! Turn those lights back on. I want to talk to this young man.”
I turned on the lights.
Aunt Louise’s face was pinched in tight. “I thought for sure you’d be able to reach her long enough for me to find out where my money is.”