STAGING WARS

by Grace Topping

  Anne paused, and I began to wonder whether she was going to share the reason for the call. After she took another bite of scone and sipped some tea, she began again.

  “I explained to Detective Spangler that Ian called to ask me if he could see me while he was in town. We had a lovely chat, and he told me his aunt had written his family over the years and they told him about our friendship. He said he wanted to meet me and express his appreciation for the assistance I’d given her. I hadn’t done much, but I told him I would be delighted to meet him. He sounded like such a nice young man.”

  “Did he visit you?” Nita asked.

  “No. Sadly he didn’t come before…” She shook her head as though searching for the words.

  Nita and I could easily have filled in the blanks, but we didn’t say anything. We all understood what she’d left unsaid.

  “I was touched to learn Doris thought enough of our friendship to write to her family about me. She was such a kind woman.” Anne’s doleful look showed how much she missed her friend.

  Nita refilled our cups with tea from the teapot and then placed it on the table. “How long had you and Doris been friends?”

  “About ten years. I met her when I first moved to Louiston and joined the arts group. When she began having a difficult time getting around and stopped attending our meetings, I started visiting her to help keep her connected to the group.”

  “That was good of you,” Aunt Kit said. “So often older members of a group simply fade away.” I wondered whether she was thinking about her own experience. I needed to maintain better contact with her, perhaps influence her to move back to Louiston so I could keep an eye on her.

  Anne took another sandwich from the tray. “Doris had been a supportive member of the group for many years, but from what I understand, she never participated in group painting sessions or displayed her work at shows. The poor dear was self-conscious about her artwork, which she viewed as amateurish. But she so enjoyed painting.”

  “Did you ever see her work?” Aunt Kit asked.

  “A few pieces she had hanging in her home.” Anne looked at her empty teacup and reached for the teapot.

  “And,” Nita prompted, “was it amateurish?”

  “Let’s just say, it was a little simplistic.”

  We didn’t pursue the subject anymore, feeling that we had put Anne in an awkward position commenting about her friend’s artwork.

  Aunt Kit studied the selection of fruit tarts and took one topped with kiwifruit and blueberries. “What I can’t get over is Damian Reynolds being stabbed by his girlfriend. Such a loss for the art world. I have one of his prints hanging on my living room wall.”

  I hadn’t realized Aunt Kit was a fan of modern art, but there were so many things I didn’t know about her. I needed to rectify that.

  Aunt Kit was on a roll. “Even worse, Nita and Laura walked in and found his girlfriend standing over him—with the knife she used to kill him. And she had been a school friend of theirs.”

  “That must have been just awful, you poor dears.” Anne Williamson said. She and Aunt Kit seemed to be relishing the details.

  So much for going to a place that was supposed to be calming. A lot depended on whom you were with and what you were discussing. Aunt Kit and her grim outlook on everything would need far more than a teashop to mellow out. Time to change the subject.

  “Nita, why don’t you show Aunt Kit and Anne the photos of the short-term rental we completed? It turned out to be a fabulous place.” Fortunately, Nita took the hint and started telling them about the apartment and showing them the photos she took.

  While she talked, I couldn’t help but think of what we’d learned about Damian and the Reynolds family. And then there was his relationship with his agent. What was the full story behind that? Jaime hadn’t liked him, and Ron Zigler from the B&B had overheard Damian and his agent having a heated argument while they stayed there. That might be worth looking into further.

  Chapter 24

  To prepare a house for sale, clean from the baseboards to the ceilings and everything in between.

  The next morning, Tyrone and I’d arranged to visit Ron and Geoff at the B&B on our way to check out the area Josh said might work as a storage space for our inventory.

  “How are you going to feel if you see Ron and Geoff made changes to the work you did on the house?” Tyrone asked.

  I’d been pleased with the way the house had turned out after we’d staged it. For that project, we’d had virtually free rein to do whatever the house needed, and it’d needed a lot done to it. Nita’s talented brothers had done repairs and painted the house to make it attractive to potential buyers. It was our first project, and after it was completed, we had such pride of workmanship it had been hard leaving it for someone else to enjoy.

  I shrugged. “It’s only natural they’ll want to put their own touches on the place. If they made changes and you don’t like them, say nothing.”

  Tyrone had done preliminary work on the house and had only seen photos of the completed rooms, so this visit would allow him to see the completed work. I hoped Geoff and Ron hadn’t changed everything so much that it no longer had our stamp on it.

  Tyrone made a locking key gesture near his mouth. I hoped he’d be able to keep his comments locked up.

  We turned onto the entrance of the long drive that led to the B&B. A wooden sign with blue and gold letters identified the Mansion House Bed and Breakfast. The new name paid homage to the house, but I would always think of it as the Denton house.

  The large three-storied house of limestone had been built before the Civil War and belonged to the Denton family for generations—until Skip Denton sold it following the tragic death of his ex-wife. It had been a challenge turning the dismal place into an inviting dwelling, but the result had prompted Ron and Geoff to buy the place, with all its contents. Their plan to turn it into a bed and breakfast was the perfect use for the massive structure.

  Driving up the long approach to the house, I looked over to where a workman was mowing the grass and was pleased to see Ron and Geoff had kept on Carlos to maintain the lawns and gardens. As we drove by, he looked up from his mowing and waved to us.

  We parked in the back near the garage that had once stabled horses and carriages. Earlier Ron had mentioned their dream of turning the structure into additional guest quarters. With the college nearby, they wouldn’t have difficulty filling it with guests. I thought of the work we’d done completing Monica’s over-the-garage apartment for the Greens. My imagination went into overdrive, and I envisioned us working with Nita’s construction family on the project.

  When we rounded the corner to the front of the house we found Detective Spangler descending the steps from the large porch fronting the house. He looked as surprised to see us as we were to see him.

  “Hello, Ms. Bishop. What brings you here?” His clothing fit him perfectly, and his muscular body showed that he worked out.

  “We’re here for a tour of the B&B Ron and Geoff promised us. They’re going to show us the changes they made.” They hadn’t promised us a tour, but I was sure they would gladly do so if we asked them.

  “What brings you here, Detective?” Tit for tat.

  “Police business.” He tossed his keys in the air, catching them and then tossing them again. He had an annoying habit of fiddling with things, but usually when he was interrogating people—slapping a letter opener into his palm, squeezing a rubber ball, tapping his pen on his notebook, and now tossing his keys. I didn’t know whether he was just antsy or he did those things to distract or annoy people.

  He nodded at Tyrone and got into his car without saying anything more and drove away.

  “From the looks of it, you and the detective seem to have a bit of history.” Geoff shook hands with Tyrone in greeting. “Did he break up with you in high school and you’re still angry abo
ut it?”

  That made me laugh. “Not hardly. We had some dealings during Victoria Denton’s murder investigation, and we got off on the wrong foot.” I needed to be more mature and get over it, and I was getting there—just not very fast.

  Tyrone had more reason to be resentful and was dealing with it better than I was since Detective Spangler had arrested him for Victoria Denton’s murder. But Tyrone was a much better person than I was.

  I climbed the stairs to the porch, noticing that Geoff and Ron had added more rocking chairs, which was a good idea. The position of the porch would give guests fabulous views of the Allegheny Mountains.

  Police business. “Are you having problems out here?”

  Geoff shook his head. “No, not at all. Besides we have Will Parker keeping an eye on things. Detective Spangler was looking for more information about Ian Becker. Anything we could add about his stay here.”

  “Were you able to tell him anything?” Tyrone asked.

  “Not anything more than we told you before.” Geoff grimaced. “That’s two of our former guests dead in a week. Rather frightening. We’re just relieved that neither death happened here.”

  I had come to ask them questions about Damian Reynolds and his stay there. They were going to be inundated with questions about their guests.

  “Welcome. Come on inside.” Geoff opened the heavy oak door leading into the foyer. “We only have a couple of guests at the moment, but they’ve gone out to see some of the sights.”

  We followed him into the massive foyer. A tall hunt table held a guest book and brochures for some of the local sights. The place brought back so many memories of our first visit to the house and everything that had transpired there afterward.

  Geoff led us into the living room. “Please have a seat. Ron is in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast and will join us shortly. He does all the cooking while I take care of bedrooms and baths. He’s got the better part of the deal. Since I’m not much of a cook, it’s better for the guests that I stick with bathrooms.”

  “It all depends on how good Ron would be doing bathrooms.” I wrinkled my nose. The thought of cleaning several bathrooms a day was more than I wanted to think about.

  The living room looked inviting, and after the week I’d experienced, I gratefully sank into a comfortable leather chair, yearning to put my feet up on an ottoman. It was the perfect place to relax. Tyrone sat on a long leather sofa. Seeing the expression on his face and his raised eyebrows, I turned and looked at the direction of his gaze. Sitting on the mantel was a ceramic statue of a pink flamingo, probably something brought back from a trip to Florida. I stifled my urge to laugh, especially given Tyrone’s look of horror. It was so out of character with the style of the house. But everyone was entitled to a bit of whimsy.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” Geoff asked. He was the perfect host for a B&B.

  “Thanks, but we just had some at Vocaro’s before we came.”

  Ron came into the living room, drying his hands on a chef’s apron, and greeted us. “Another breakfast finished—hundreds more to go.”

  I wondered what the breakfast they offered their guests was like. B&Bs could prosper or fail based on the quality of the breakfasts they offered.

  “Ron does a bang-up job with breakfast,” Geoff said. “You’ll have to come up one day and join us. He is always experimenting with new recipes and could use some feedback.”

  “We’d love that. Can I bring Nita? She knows her pastries and could give you an expert’s opinion.” Nita would die if she knew I got to have breakfast at the B&B without her.

  “Absolutely.” Ron waved his arm, gesturing to the room. “How do you like what we’ve done so far?”

  “We haven’t seen much yet, but I love the leather club chairs that you’ve added here.”

  “Thanks. We got them from Josh. He’s going to find us some more. We wanted ones that were a little more broken in than new ones. They’re more comfortable and look like they’ve been here for a while.” Ron stood next to the cavernous marble fireplace, the pink flamingo over his shoulder. Tyrone and I grinned at each other.

  “Thanks, Laura, for recommending Josh,” Geoff added. “He’s been great.”

  I was pleased they liked Josh’s warehouses of unusual things but felt the more they visited it, the less the B&B would look as we left it. I needed to learn to separate myself emotionally from the houses we worked on.

  “Since Tyrone didn’t get to see the final work on the house, we’d love to have a tour if you have time. But first I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “I’d be delighted to give you a tour and answer your questions. What do you want to know—what we changed when we moved in?” The twinkle in Geoff’s eye sent a clear message that they had changed things, which could only be expected.

  “You’ve already gotten some questions about your former guests from Detective Spangler. I hope you won’t mind a few more. When I spoke to you before, you mentioned that when Damian Reynolds stayed here there was a bit of drama—that he and his agent argued. Can you tell us any more about that?”

  Ron and Geoff glanced at each other and shrugged.

  Geoff spoke first. “It’s been a while. You have to remember, the walls in this place are pretty thick. We could hear raised voices, but not necessarily what they were saying.”

  “Whatever they argued about,” Ron added, “it caused the agent, can’t remember his name at the moment, to check out the next morning. He had been scheduled to stay for another night. Geoff, why don’t you take them on the tour, and I’ll check our records for the agent’s name.”

  Geoff led the way toward the dining room and kitchen. “Eventually we hope to finish the basement. I’d like to add a bar and billiards room, along with a wine cellar. Ron wants a sauna and workout room. I don’t know what we’ll end up with.”

  The basement held bad memories for me since that was where I had discovered Victoria Denton’s body. They could board up the basement and forget it was there for all I cared. But seeing it turned into useable space made sense.

  After seeing the dining room and kitchen, Geoff escorted us up the grand staircase to the guest rooms upstairs and showed us the rooms that weren’t occupied. They had added some welcoming touches to each room. “We added more books to the library, and guests are welcome to select a book and relax in there.”

  When we returned to the ground floor, Ron was waiting for us and handed me a slip of paper with the agent’s name printed on it. Garrett Fletcher. Now I remembered. That was the name of the man Jaime hadn’t liked.

  “While you were gone, I had a chance to think more about that evening. I remember one thing I heard, but it wasn’t much. Damian kept saying, ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’ He almost sounded desperate. And Garrett said something like, ‘You must,’ or ‘You have to.’ I can’t remember exactly. Is it important?”

  “Yes, why are you asking?” Geoff asked. “Is this related to his murder? Didn’t they arrest his girlfriend?”

  “I’m asking for a friend of mine who won’t accept that Monica Heller could have committed the crime. I recalled you mentioned the argument here that evening and thought it might be something that could help with her case. Probably not, but I wanted to be able to give my friend some hope, even if it is a bit misguided.”

  Ron shook his head. “From what I read, it’s going to be hard to dispute the evidence of how she was found.”

  “I know, but I owe it to my friend to find something. Had Damian and Garrett seemed to be on good terms before the argument?”

  “Hard to tell when you don’t know people. They’d seemed cordial enough—until their argument that night.”

  Tyrone, who had his own experience with desperate situations, added, “If you think of anything else, could you give Laura a call?”

  “Absolutely.” Geoff and Ron followed us as
we walked toward the front door.”

  “Thank you, both, for everything. We appreciated the tour and the information. You never know what can help.”

  What could Garrett Fletcher have been pressuring Damian to do that he so desperately didn’t want to?

  Chapter 25

  A home stager can stage a vacant house with tasteful furniture and accessories.

  After leaving the B&B, Tyrone and I drove to Antiques and Other Things to view the storage area Josh had identified for us. I hoped it would work since Louiston’s only self-storage facility didn’t have any available storage units at the moment.

  I looked around the large space Josh took us to, imagining how it would look once we got shelving and our inventory in. “What do you think, Tyrone?”

  “Looks good to me, but it’s really big. Do you think we are going to need all this space?”

  “It’s a big space for the inventory we have now, but it will give us space to grow.”

  Tyrone shrugged. “I guess you have to think big.”

  I had always been cautious, sometimes too much so. Now I needed to have confidence that my business would grow and plan for it. And having a place to store the furniture we needed would help us do that.

  “I think it’ll work quite nicely, Josh.”

  “I’m glad it will work out for ya’ll. How about if I work up a draft lease agreement and we go from there?”

  “Sounds good.” I could hardly believe it was actually working out. But then I thought of Monica’s situation and how quickly a small business could fall apart. I gave myself a shake and decided to think positively—not letting my mother’s and aunt’s negative views of the world affect me.