by Liz Turner
“I’m sorry for it,” Victoria said. “Not to say…” she paused awkwardly.
“Say what you’re thinking, without worrying about hurting my feelings,” Randolf said. “Believe me, I have a very thick skin after working with criminals all the time.”
“Alright then. In a way, I feel very, very grateful that I had as much time as I did with Michael. There’s a golden glow about our years together. We produced Annie and Byron, who are the lights of my life now. When you’ve had the kind of romance I did with Michael, it’s selfish to ask for more and it’s useless to expect anymore either. Maybe I just try to fill the Michael shaped void with… interesting things.”
“So instead of gardening, you took up murder-solving,” Randolf asked.
“When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” Victoria laughed.
Randolf stayed silent, watching her as he brought his mug to his lips. “Tell me more about Michael. How did you know you were in love? I mean, for me, there would be times when I was passionate about someone. I lusted after my first wife for years after we divorced. I suppose you could say I loved her, but that love seemed to evaporate somewhere along the way. I hardly even remember what she looked like now, to be honest. When did you know you were really in love with Michael?”
“I knew I loved him even before I met him,” Victoria said. “I’d read some of his books, and I fell in love with the man in the book jacket.”
“That’s a really dangerous thing to do,” Randolf commented. “You meet the person in real life, and nine times out of ten, things fizzle instead of sizzling.”
Victoria laughed. “Yes, well, in my case, when I met Michael, I sneaked into his hotel and asked for an autograph, and showed him a chapter of the book I’d written. He insulted my writing ability, and threw me out.”
“Wow.” Randolf whistled. “How did you end up married?”
“We solved a case together,” Victoria said.
“You did what now?” Randolf sat up straighter.
“Oh, I suppose this was around the time you were in college,” Victoria said. “But do you remember the multi-billionaire business tycoon Augustin Pelletier?”
“He was murdered at the Larch Luminary, wasn’t he? Nasty business. A poisoning.” Randolf nodded. “My CO told me about that case. He was one of the investigating officers.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you telling me that you solved that case?”
“Michael and I both did.” She said. “It was his idea to try and solve it. We discovered who did it in the end and the murderer confessed to the police after we had a confrontation.”
Randolf whistled. “You have had a romance straight out of a movie. So is that how it happened? You solved the murder and kissed afterward?”
Victoria shook her head. “Hardly.” She said. “We solved the murder and then I decided to never speak to Michael again. He somehow found a copy of my manuscript, the one I thought he’d thrown away, took the time to read it carefully, and then came over to meet me.”
“So he told you the book was fantastic this time around?” Randolf asked.
“No. He told me I had great potential but I should probably get a career as a stenographer if I was going to write in such an adolescent manner. He also asked me to date him.” Victoria said. “I turned him down. I hated how blunt Michael was. But I loved it too. It was a challenge to me. I had to make him acknowledge I had talent so I kept sending him my work. Nine times he told me it was all crap. The tenth time, he flew down from New York to see me, and told me that I was finally catching up to all my potential.” She laughed. “He had a big bouquet of roses, and I was utterly charmed. We started dating soon. It was long-distance for a year. I didn’t even know if he felt as strongly about me, as I did about him. I tried to play it cool. He told me later that he had fallen in love with me, and was terrified I didn’t care.”
“What then?”
“Eventually, we couldn’t bear to be apart, and we decided to marry each other. I was only 21, and he was 25.” Victoria shrugged. “But what he said made sense. Why waste time when you know you’ve found the one?”
Randolf laughed. “When I was 25, I would have laughed at the very concept of The One.” He said. “All this soul mate stuff is beyond me. In my mind, if you’re attracted to someone, you like them as a person, and you are determined to be loyal, you’ve got a winning combination.”
Victoria shook her head. “How unromantic.” She said.
“It’s true, though.” He replied.
“You might as well marry anyone then.” She said. “Thousands of people would fit that description.”
Randolf shrugged. “Actually, it's surprisingly hard to find these three traits in one, single, interested person.”
“It makes me sad,” Victoria said. “To think that people approach love as something of a checklist. If he or she has these ten qualities I’ll just marry them. That’s…wrong.”
“Well didn’t you have your own mental checklist with Michael?” Randolf asked. “If he’d been… I don’t know… scared, or didn’t have a sense of humor, or was three hundred pounds overweight, or…”
“I would still have loved him,” Victoria said, completely confident.
“I don’t think you would,” Randolf said. “Love’s all very well to speak of but human beings are… predictable, after a fashion.”
Victoria shrugged. “To each his own, then.” She said. “I hope one day you find a woman that makes you understand what I’m talking about. That you'll find that lightning bolt of love that eliminates everything else.”
Randolf laughed. “I’ve had two loves that didn’t work.” He said, “Like you, I think I’m satisfied with work that I love instead.”
“You have to believe you’ll find it someday,” Victoria said. “Don’t be such a pessimist.”
“I’ll believe if you believe.” Randolf shot back.
“It’s different for me, Randolf. I’m just not interested in men anymore. No one will ever compare to Michael, will they? For you, you have to find the woman who makes you feel as alive as Michael made me feel.”
Randolf looked at her, surprised. “Michael made you feel alive? So what do you feel now?”
“In limbo,” Victoria answered. “No, I feel… oh, Randolf. It’s been three years now since Michael passed. It’s not like I’m unhappy, you know, it’s just that the sounds are all a little bit softer, the colors are all a little bit duller. I suppose I’m slowly and quietly slipping into old age.”
“You’re young, and you’re beautiful still,” Randolf said. “Don’t drown yourself in the conviction that there will never be another man. There will never be another Michael, but love takes a thousand forms, I think. Sooner or later, you’ll meet some incarnation.”
“Incarnation?” Victoria looked startled. “That’s a funny word.”
“Is it?” Randolf smiled. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s just that it reminded me of something Steve said the other night at dinner. Something about people changing, and becoming new people at each stage of their lives.” Victoria frowned. “Now why did that pop up in my brain? There’s some connection I haven’t made.”
Randolf frowned too. “I don’t think I was there when this happened.”
“Well, since I remembered Steve, I also remembered Amanda which leads me to the painting,” Victoria said. “There was a painting missing from LeeLee’s home, or at least Dr. Molly Stewart thought so.”
“Oh?” Randolf looked suddenly very alert. “A painting worth a lot of money, perhaps?”
“I need to talk to Amanda about how much it was worth.” Victoria said, “And perhaps the police could enquire too.”
“I think we most definitely will.” He said.
Chapter 15
Victoria must have fallen asleep on the couch while talking to Randolf. When she woke with a start it was 5:30 a.m, and she had a blanket wrapped around her.
Randolf, she saw, was asleep in a chair next to her. In his sle
ep, he looked years younger, almost like a little boy. She smiled at him, and then crept out of the house, hoping that no one had noticed her absence.
Karen was waiting for her at home with a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t ask,” Victoria said, rushing around to get ready.
“Vanilla woke me up asking for a walk,” Karen said, following her. “I noticed you were gone and got a little worried.”
“Not worried enough to phone me, though,” Victoria said.
“Well… I thought you’re an adult and you can take care of yourself.” Karen shrugged. “You can take care of yourself, right, Victoria?”
“I’m alright, and it’s not what you’re thinking. I’d just gone to ask Randolf about some...”
“Ah, Corporal Jager is just plain old Randolf now, is he?” Karen asked. “My, my.”
“Don’t my,my me!” Victoria said. “Karen, I tell you, there’s nothing to gossip about here.”
“So you say,” Karen said with a laugh. “I like him anyway. He’s a good man.”
“He is a good man, and we are only good friends,” Victoria said firmly.
“I’ve heard that plenty of times before,” Karen said. “Next thing I know, people are heading up the altar.”
“I’ve got no time,” Victoria said. “I’ll see you in the evening, Karen.”
“Say hi to Randy for me, Vic!”
Victoria shook her head and rushed to the café. The morning shift was so packed with hungry customers that Victoria barely had time to breathe. It was only in the afternoon shift that things started slowing down.
“Hey, Amanda,” Victoria smiled as Amanda entered the café with Ida at around 2 pm.
“Hey, Vic,” Amanda said. “Can we get two strawberry milkshakes, one ham sandwich for Ida, and a pastrami-on-rye for me?”
“Coming right up,” Victoria said. “How’s it going, ladies? Been doing some shopping today?”
“We’re looking at color combinations,” Ida said a bit grumpily. “I wanted to wear bright red lipstick, but Amanda won’t let me.”
“Ida dearest, bright red lipstick just won’t look very good in a wedding,” Amanda said. “We have to wear something a little more sober. A Mint dress, and frosty pink lipstick, how about that?”
“I want bright red,” Ida said, sticking her lower lip out.
“Well, we’ll talk about that later. I’m going to forego the traditional white dress and wear a pale pastel shade I think.” Amanda said. “But I don’t know.”
“Well, we’ve got to go dress shopping soon,” Victoria smiled. “I can’t wait, personally.”
“Same here.” Amanda hugged herself and beamed. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”
“For you, maybe,” Ida said, biting her lip. She took a long, loud slurp of her milkshake.
Both Amanda and Victoria looked at her, then at each other. Victoria gave a little nod to Amanda.
“Well, I’m sorry that you have that attitude, Ida, but it’s not very fair, is it? Just because I think bright red lipstick will be inappropriate, you’re...”
“It’s all I want,” Ida said, her voice pitching higher. “It’s the one thing I want and you won’t let me. I hate you!”
“Ida!” Amanda looked down at her, shocked. “Ida, come on.”
“Amanda, why don’t you take a small walk?” Victoria suggested. “I can talk to Ida for you.”
“No, this is something she and I have to solve on our own.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” Ida said, cuttingly. “I don’t want to even see your face! Just leave me alone!”
Amanda nodded. “Alright, I’m going to take a walk. You can stay here and finish your milkshake. Then we’re going to go home and talk about what happened, alright?” she put a hand on Ida’s shoulders. “I love you, kiddo. I know this isn’t easy for you. I know it’s just been you and your dad so far, and you’re maybe a little scared of the change. But I promise we’ll make it work.”
Ida kept her eyes straight ahead, ignoring Amanda, until she heard the door clang, signaling Amanda had left. Then, she put her head down on her shoulders and sobbed.
Victoria put a hand on the girl’s hair, and patted it, feeling glad that the afternoon slowdown meant no one else was in the café. Linda, the waitress, gave Victoria a look, but Victoria shook her head, blinked slowly, and inclined her head, giving the universal look for, “I’ll handle this.”
“Ida. You can talk to me.” Victoria said.
“It’s not fair,” Ida said. “I don’t even have a picture of my mom. Dad didn’t keep any because he said it makes him too upset. All I have is the memory of her red lipstick and now I’m not even allowed to bring that into the wedding.”
“Is that why you’re insisting on red?” Victoria asked, shocked. “Well, Ida, have you told Amanda this?”
“It’s my memory. I don’t want to share it with her.” Ida said. “Well, not yet.”
“I think you should,” Victoria said kindly. “It might help a lot.”
The door clanged again, and Amanda was there. “Come on Ida.” She said. “Let’s go home, if you’ve calmed down a little bit.”
Victoria gave Ida a hug. “Don’t worry.” She whispered. “Amanda will agree if you tell her your reasons.”
She went up to Amanda. “Are you alright?”
“I think so,” Amanda said. “It’s just been a really stressful week for us all. Ida’s been moody, I’ve been up to my ears in work, Steve’s been irritable all week too.”
“Why?” Victoria asked.
“Declan has refused to give Steve his check for the mosaic. Steve’s really upset about it. The money was really good, and we would have been able to plan a better wedding with it. Did Declan give you what he owed?”
“LeeLee actually paid me herself,” Victoria said. “But I’m sorry to hear that. Will Steve be alright?”
“He’ll be fine,” Amanda said. “He’s never one to worry overmuch about money. I’ve told him we’ll make it work somehow.”
“By the way, I had a question to ask you. Did you know that LeeLee had a painting in her bedroom?”
“Steve’s seen it.” Amanda nodded. “It’s a rare piece by Wilmagelda Massini, isn’t it? Steve said it’s a shame that it's locked up like that in the house of an old lady who won’t ever appreciate the true depth of its art.”
“Well, she might not have appreciated the art, but I think she would appreciate the dollar amount,” Victoria said. “Did it cost a lot?”
“If it’s the painting Steve described, then it did,” Amanda said. “In the neighborhood of two to three million dollars.”
“Wow!” Ida gasped. “Paintings sell for that much? Can I become an artist?”
“Well, not every painting is that much, dear, and it’s all subjective,” Amanda said.
“Steve wasn’t at the party that day, was he?” Victoria asked. “I wish he had been. I bet he would have remembered more details about the red coated girl. I talked to Karen about it and she didn’t even remember seeing her.”
“Steve was at the party,” Amanda said.
“No, he wasn’t. I didn’t see him.” Victoria said.
“He just came really late, because he had to finish a mural over at Hanson’s resort,” Amanda said.
“Oh.” Victoria’s eyes went wide.
“What is it?” Amanda asked.
“Hanson!” Victoria said, throwing her apron down.
“What?”
“I have to make a call. Actually, I have to go,” Victoria called out to Linda, a waitress. “Linda, can you cover for me for an hour, please? I have to go do something sort of important.”
“No problem,” Linda called.
Jumping into her car, Victoria raced all the way to Hanson’s office, and despite a secretary’s protests, burst into his room.
Hanson was talking on the phone. On seeing Victoria, his eyebrow rose in surprise, and he hung up on the caller. “Well, this is interesting.”
He said. “Are you interested in buying a timeshare, Victoria?”
Victoria looked around at the secretary, and Hanson motioned to her to shut the door. Meekly, the secretary left.
“Well?” He asked. “Oh, where are my manners? Have a seat. Can I get you a coffee? It’s not as good as the one in your café, but we’ll have to make do.”
Victoria plopped herself on a chair, and said, “Hanson, you loved her. You told me you loved her the day before she died.”
Hanson’s face seemed to go blank, and then livid. “You have no business coming here and talking nonsense.” He said. “I said no such thing and you have no witnesses to back up your claim.”
“Maybe not,” Victoria said. “But here’s the thing, Hanson, first, you came to the party with the girl in the red coat. Second, you fought with Declan. Third, you told me the next day that you’re in love with LeeLee.”
“I never said I was in love,” Hanson said, then bit his tongue.
“What happened to denial?” Victoria asked, smiling triumphantly.
“I’ll deny it to anyone else,” Hanson said. “Just so you know. I have no interest in becoming the patsy who gets nailed for this case.”
“You did love her, though, didn’t you?” Victoria asked.
“I don’t know if I did,” Hanson said. “I know that I felt unhappy about her death, and I know that I have no interest in going to jail, just as I had no interest in killing her.”
“Maybe you did, though,” Victoria said. “Maybe you confessed your love to her. Maybe she rebuffed you. Maybe your ego couldn’t handle it and you killed her.”
Hanson laughed. “You’re a fiction writer, aren’t you? That imagination of yours… it’s delightful.”
“You’re acting cool now, Hanson, but when my witnesses get you, you’ll sing a different tune.”
Hanson slammed his fist on the table. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have trusted that fool. He talked, didn’t he? I told him not to talk for his own good. I told him.”