by Jane Tesh
“Was anyone there?”
“No.”
Sasha Gregory had told me she left at four. “How did you get in?”
“The back door was unlocked.”
“You went in, tore up the frames, and then left?”
“I thought Wendall might be there. I was going to talk to him.”
“About?”
“About the gallery, of course.”
All of this sounded very unlikely. “Why didn’t you just call him, or go to his house?”
“I didn’t want to have any possible contact with Flora.”
“So when Wendall called you later that evening, you were more than ready to talk with him.”
“Yes, I was.”
“You didn’t meet or talk with anyone in the gallery at four-thirty, five o’clock?”
Another pause. “No.”
“Where did you park?”
“What?” she said.
“Where did you park? When you came to the gallery last night, you parked around back.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you park in the back at four-thirty?”
“No, I parked out front. There were plenty of spaces then.”
“Did you notice any other cars?”
“No. I didn’t notice. What are you getting at?”
“Maybe nothing,” I said. “How long were you in the gallery?”
“Just a few minutes.”
Long enough to wreck Bea’s frames. “And you went straight home after that?”
“Yes. Is that all, Madeline? I have to go. Reagan Marshall is here for her piano lesson.”
“Making up for the one you missed yesterday?”
“Yes. Good-bye.”
Just to cover all bases, I called Sasha Gregory and asked her what kind of car she drove and if she’d noticed any other cars in the back parking lot. She told me Sasha owned a black Ford Taurus and had parked in front of the gallery, so Sasha didn’t see the cars in the back.
“Did you lock any of the doors when you left?” I asked.
“No, but Wendall was leaving at the same time, and he had a key.”
“Do you know if he locked the back door?”
“He followed Sasha out the front and locked that door. Sasha doesn’t know if he locked the back.” She paused. “You know, Sasha remembers now he told her his key only fit the front door, and he was going to have to get a key for the back.”
“So there’s a good chance the back door was never locked.”
“That’s true.”
So anyone could get in.
Jerry came out as I was pondering my next move.
“Things are getting too extreme in there for me,” he said.
“I doubt that.”
“How’s it going?” he asked. “Tell me what you found out from Larissa.”
“Around eight o’clock last night, Wendall called Larissa and told her to meet him at the gallery. He had something to tell her. She arrived about eight-thirty and found him dead. She says she doesn’t know what he wanted to talk about. I also talked with Bea Ricter, who says she brought some work with her to the gallery yesterday afternoon. Larissa admits to breaking up the wooden frames around four-thirty, but she swears Wendall was dead when she arrived for their meeting later that night. Bea was with Ginger last night, so she has an alibi. Oh, and I found this.” I took the gold button out of my pocket. “Do you happen to remember if there was a button like this missing from Flora’s pink jacket yesterday?”
“Sorry. I don’t remember. Where did you find it?”
“On the other side of the fence behind the gallery is a parking lot. The owner of the gift shop found this yesterday and she remembers seeing a dark blue Honda in their parking lot.”
“Why would Flora be back there?”
“Good question.”
Jerry sat on the porch rail and examined the button. “Well, this looks like it could’ve come off a man’s suit.”
“A little gold button like that?”
“Off one of the cuffs, I mean.”
“Oh. Yes, I guess it could.”
“Which doesn’t really help you, because women wear men’s clothes all the time.”
“And all the members of the Art Guild are women. Oh, speaking of things that sparkle, when I went to Bea’s house, I found a plastic bag full of silver spacers in her yard.”
“Spacers? For her teeth?”
“Not that kind. Silver or gold pieces that you put between beads when you’re making bracelets or necklaces. I also caught a glimpse inside her house, and it looked like a treasure chest had exploded.”
“Bea’s a jewel thief? Great news.”
“This is Celosia, remember? I think we would’ve heard.”
“Okay, so it’s her hobby.”
“But she never wears any.”
“Then what was all that about at the gallery meeting? Did she make the bracelet Flora was wearing? And how did Wendall get it?”
“Maybe it’s a keepsake from their high school days. Doesn’t Bea strike you as someone who would like to flaunt her jewelry-making skills, especially to all the other women in the Art Guild?”
“Maybe it’s crappy-looking jewelry.”
“I want to find out, but I used up all my questions, and I’ve been warned off her property.”
Jerry’s eyes lit up. “This is a job for Con Man!”
“I just need a peek, that’s all.”
“I will arrange a peek for you.”
“A legal peek.”
“You bet.”
I took out my phone. “Let me try Flora again. If she’s home, I’ll visit and see if I can get a look at her pink jacket.”
Flora wasn’t home. I put my phone away. “I imagine if the coroner’s finished examining Wendall’s body, she might be making funeral arrangements.” How sad, I thought. The gallery opening—Wendall’s attempt to make things right with his old friends—was going to be a grand affair. And now Flora had to deal with her husband’s murder—unless she had something to do with it.
I didn’t like going down that particular road.
Jerry noticed my frown. “Something else?”
“Well, I have to think like an investigator here and toy with the idea that Flora could’ve killed Wendall.”
“She would’ve had to have jumped pretty high.”
“And what’s her motive? She’ll probably get all his money, anyway.”
“You’re getting the look you get after going a couple of rounds with your mother.”
If I’d thought about it in time, and if I had asked him, Jerry would have borrowed someone’s baby for Mom’s visit. I had the wild notion of plopping it into her arms just to see how she would react. “My mother doesn’t think you and I would make good parents.”
“We won’t know unless we try. Let’s have a baby just to spite her. Spite Fairweather. It has a ring to it.”
I had to laugh. “Would that be Spite Shilleeta, or Shilleeta Spite?”
“I can’t decide. Let’s have twins.”
“Let’s not,” I said. “Where did you put Honor?”
“You know that failed housing development called Tinsley Acres? I told her she could park her car behind one of those houses. No one ever goes out there.”
“Did she tell you what she wanted?”
“No, and it doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it.”
“She said she had some dirt on you, so you’d better come clean right now.”
“I’m not only clean, I’m bleached. She has no hold on me whatsoever.”
I really wanted to believe that.
***
Flora called to say her sister couldn’t come to dinner but that she would welcome the distraction. I hoped she would wear
her pink suit so I could have a look at the buttons, but she was more properly attired in black. I’d chosen a dark blue dress, and Jerry had on a suit and one of his calmer ties, a dark purple one with little yellow stars. The dining room was one of the few rooms in the house that hadn’t needed much renovation. Nell had painted the walls a pale yellow and refinished the dark walnut table. There were six chairs, all decorated with roses carved in the scooped backs and yellow needlepoint cushions, also patterned with roses.
Jerry made a delicious-smelling chicken casserole and a tossed salad. We sat down at the table and passed our plates to him for the casserole.
“How’s your investigation coming along, Madeline?” Flora asked.
I handed her a full plate. “I have a few leads.”
“Have you spoken with Larissa? And Bea?”
“Yes. Both of them.” I took my plate. “Thanks, Jerry. This looks wonderful.”
Flora looked down at her dinner. “Such angry women.” Her voice caught. “I wish Wendall had never come back to Celosia.”
“Did he ever tell you specifically why he wanted a gallery here?”
“He wanted the town to have something grand.” She wiped a few tears away. “Could Larissa have killed Wendall? Could Bea Ricter?”
“Whoever killed Wendall had to be fairly tall. That rules out Bea and most of the members of the Art Guild.” And you, I thought. “It’s also possible Wendall surprised a thief trying to break into the gallery, or someone else from his past who held a grudge.”
She gave me her best wide-eyed look. “I can’t believe that. I always got the impression that in high school he was a big fun-loving guy who was very popular.”
From what I’d learned about Wendall in high school, if he’d been a Wow game, he’d be Popular Extreme. “We’ll figure it out.”
“What will you do now, Flora?” Jerry asked. “Is there anything we can help you with?”
“I’m moving in with my sister until everything’s taken care of. I certainly don’t want to stay in Celosia—no offense.”
After dinner, she thanked us, and said she was going to her sister’s that evening. “I don’t want to be in that house anymore. I’ll come back later and go through Wendall’s things. You’ll call me if you find out anything, won’t you, Madeline?”
“Yes, right away.”
Jerry and I were walking her to her car when, to my exasperation, Honor Perkins drove up. She gave Flora a long hard look, which Flora ignored. She got into her car and drove away. Honor got out of her car, and I was about to tell her to leave when she said, “Well, that’s very interesting. What’s she doing in town?”
“Who?” I asked.
“Your dinner guest. The grieving widow. Lizzie Bailey.”
“Lizzie Bailey? Don’t you mean Flora Bailey, who is now Flora Clarke? You know her?”
Honor leaned against her car. “Lord, yes, I know her. We used to call her Bailout Bailey, because that’s what Stan had to do every six months or so. She nearly ruined him. What’s she doing in Celosia?”
“Honor,” Jerry said, “are you telling me Flora Clarke is on the game?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“I knew something was up! That hair tug was a dead giveaway—which she didn’t do during dinner, did you notice that, Mac? But why didn’t I recognize her?”
“Oh, she’s a pro. Our cons were way too small to interest her.”
My suspicions about Flora didn’t include this. “You think she’s running a con?”
“Duh,” Honor said. “Fluttery fluffy little blonde gets rich man to marry her.”
“Rich man dies suddenly,” Jerry said. “Does she include murder in her cons?”
Honor shook her head. “It’s not her style. Fleecing, yes. Murder, no. My money is on the ex-wife. Oh, and on the ex-husband, too. They could be in this together.”
“Do you mean Stan Bailey?” I asked. “What do you know about him? Another con man?”
“No, just some poor sap who fell for her charms. I imagine he was glad to be rid of her. I was just kidding about him being an accomplice. He wouldn’t have anything against Wendall Clarke.”
I wasn’t so sure. I recalled Larissa telling me when she’d seen Flora and Wendall together, she’d called Flora’s husband to let him know about his wife’s infidelity. Larissa had said Stan Bailey acted as if he didn’t care, but what if he did care and wanted to do something about it?
“Do you know where he lives?” Jerry asked.
“Let’s see, last time I heard of Lizzie, she was living in Bayside. That might be where he’s from. She’s quite good. Last time I saw her, she was a redhead.”
“She didn’t seem to recognize you.”
“Nah. I never had any real dealings with her. Want me to help you catch Lizzie?”
I was glad to see that Jerry was not intrigued by this offer. “Why are you here?” he said. “Why won’t you go away?”
“Hey, be nice.”
“Seriously, you need to leave. I’m trying to make a new life here, a con-free life.”
“Doing what? Playing for amateur musicals? Playing for church? Good lord, Jerry. Des was always the musician, and you know it.”
That was a low blow. I’d spent years trying to convince Jerry that he was just as talented as his older brother. I felt an almost overpowering urge to smack Honor’s face, but Jerry remained calm. I could see his thoughts racing.
“Wait a minute. Are you still paying off Big Mike?” he asked.
“Don’t be silly. That was years ago.”
“He’s behind this, isn’t he? And you had to go along, or he’d bust you.” His eyes lit up. “That’s why you conned me. You were hoping to make some money. How many more do you have to play before you’re square with him?”
For the first time, Honor looked uncertain. “I never said anything about Big Mike.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I made the time-out sign. “I need an update. Who’s Big Mike? King of the Con Men?”
“Something like that,” Jerry said. “When we all started out, we learned from the best, and that was Big Mike. As payment for his lessons, we had to give him a cut of our winnings. Well, of course, after a while, that got old, so he got less and less. Apparently, he’s still annoyed. I haven’t run that much lately, so he hasn’t bothered me, but Honor still owes him, right, Honor?”
Another of her large shrugs. “A little.”
“Did he set up the D and S at Billie’s?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“And profits from that weren’t enough to suit him?”
She gave me a sideways glance. “Could we talk privately about this?”
“Go ahead,” I said. “Please settle whatever this is so you can move on. Jerry, I’ll be in my studio.”
“Thanks, Mac. Honor, let’s talk in the living room.”
Honor’s not the only one with a secret language, I thought, as I went up the stairs.
Thanks to the kids, we had discovered that the heating vent in the studio carried voices quite well from the living room—if the eavesdroppers leaned in. I knew Jerry would make certain that Honor sat in the chair nearest the downstairs vent. Sure enough, in a few minutes, I could hear her distinctly.
“This is between you and me, right? I told you my little prank was more than payback. I needed to get in touch with you.”
“I’ve been living here for months,” Jerry said. “Del could’ve told you that.”
“Del might be just the teensiest bit mad at me for double-crossing him on The Widower.”
“Good grief, did you scam him, too?”
“That’s not important. I need your help.”
“Well, you could’ve asked me instead of going to such elaborate lengths.”
“No, you owed me for the bank examiner.”
“And we’re even. I’m not going to do anything else.”
“One more game, that’s all. It’ll be easy. The mark lives right here in Celosia.” Jerry must have started to say no because her voice became more frantic. “Jerry, this is serious. I played one too many pranks on Big Mike, and now he’s after me.”
“Big Mike never killed anyone.”
“No, but he has enough on me to put me away for life. So I cut a deal with him. He says this woman in town owes him, so if I can get what he wants from her, he’ll forgive the other things.”
“What woman?”
“Her name’s Pamela Finch.”
I almost fell out of my chair, and from the sound of Jerry’s voice, he almost fell out of his, too.
“Pamela Finch owes Big Mike? Now I know you’re making things up.”
“I promise you I am dead serious, Jerry. They were an item years ago, they had some sort of spat, and she took off with his cash. You know her?”
“Yeah, she’s a local businesswoman. But it can’t be the same woman. Pamela Finch is thin and wispy, not his type, at all.”
“That’s her. He said she was skinny and nervous. Who knows why he took up with her?”
“Why doesn’t he come talk to Pamela?”
“Oh, he’s done with her. He never wants to see her again. And you know as well as I do he has to keep a low profile. He really doesn’t need to show up in this kind of town.”
“Well, you could scam her. You don’t need me.”
“Yes, I do. I got it all figured out. Does she know about your séances? You could get her to tell where she hid the jewel.”
“First, of all, I promised Mac no more séances. Second, what jewel are you talking about, and third, why should I help you?”
“Jerry.” Her voice was hurt. “Have you forgotten I saved your life?”
“Oh, my God. Are you going to hold that over me?”
“That terribly cold winter, that crazed man with a shotgun. Our only chance for survival was to run through the frozen swamp. I dragged you for miles and gave you my coat because yours snagged on the door when we ran, and if I hadn’t helped you out of it, he would’ve caught you. You had pneumonia and a broken arm, and I got you to a doctor before it was too late.”
I wanted to say, oh, my God. I hadn’t heard this story.