by V. M. Burns
I raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”
“Too much?” Emma asked anxiously.
“That depends on who will be wearing it.”
“You,” Emma said timidly.
Nana Jo leaned over and looked at the picture. “Yowzer. That’s a beautiful dress and it’ll show off your assets to their best advantage.”
“I’m not sure I want my assets shown off.”
“I’ll bet Frank will love that dress.” Nana Jo grinned.
“I’m sure you’re right, but I don’t think he has the right legs for it,” I joked.
Nana Jo swatted my butt. “You know what I mean. He will be proud to escort you in that little beauty.”
Jillian looked anxious. “Please say you like it, because it was on sale and . . . well, we already ordered it. We had to order it today to make sure it gets here on time.”
“Look, the girls are under a time crunch, so it’s either that or the pink piñata dress.”
“I love it.”
“I thought that’d sway you.” Nana Jo winked.
I knew I’d been bamboozled, but I was okay with that. It really was a beautiful dress and it certainly looked better than any of the ones I’d tried on at the bridal shop. It was a little more revealing than my usual style, but it was a special occasion.
Lexi had joined us at the table.
“Emma and Jillian, this is Lexi. She and her brother, Angelo, are staying with me for a couple of days.” I pretended not to notice the light that flashed in Lexi’s eyes. I turned to her to complete the introductions. “Lexi, this is Jillian and Emma.”
“Who’s getting married?” She stared from one of the girls to the other.
Jillian laughed. “Don’t look at us.”
“My mom is getting married in less than two weeks.”
“Wow. I’ve never been to a wedding before.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat at the thought that she wouldn’t be attending this one either. I looked around for Angelo and saw him curled up on the floor with Snickers on one side and Oreo on the other.
Nana Jo whispered, “I thought Emma and Jillian could help while we go downstairs for our meeting.” She nodded at Lexi and Angelo.
I looked at my watch. It was almost two, the designated time we arranged to meet to discuss our findings. The tight timeline meant we needed to work quickly to get this resolved.
Nana Jo and I went downstairs. Irma, Dorothy, and Ruby Mae were in the back conference room waiting for me. There was what appeared to be small rectangles of cake on a plate on the table. I suspected it was one of Dawson’s samples.
“Let’s get this meeting started.” Nana Jo opened her iPad. “Volunteers?”
I raised my hand. I relayed what I’d learned from Stinky Pitt.
“So, Stinky Pitt is going to back off and let us solve another murder for him?” Nana Jo looked down her nose. “How magnanimous of him.”
“We’re saving his bacon. He should be grateful, the little ba—”
“Irma!” we all yelled.
Irma coughed.
“I thought you were going to get someone to look into that coughing.” Dorothy picked up the pitcher of water sitting in the middle of the table and poured a small amount into a glass and slid it across the table to Irma.
Irma took the water. “Thank you.” She opened her purse and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured a good amount into the glass and drank.
Ruby Mae shook her head as she pulled a pale green fluffy item from her knitting bag.
“I don’t think we should be too cocky. We may have just been lucky the other times. Besides, we really have our hands full. This time will be harder than all the others put together.” I sighed.
“What do you mean?” Dorothy asked.
“Well, all the other times, we’ve known something about the person who was killed. They were locals. None of us know Lydia Lighthouse or Lydia Jones, according to her police file.” I stared at the ladies.
“Poppycock! None of us knew Melody Hardwick.” Nana Jo looked down her nose at me.
“We didn’t know her, but Dawson did. Plus, she went to MISU,” I said quietly.
“She was enrolled at MISU, but she didn’t attend and no one on campus knew her.” Nana Jo looked at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You don’t think Harold actually killed that woman, do you?” Ruby Mae asked.
I hesitated. “No. No, I don’t.”
“Good. Then what’s bothering you?” Nana Jo asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just afraid. What if I fail? Mom will be devastated.”
Nana Jo patted my hand. “You won’t fail. Now, stop acting like this is your first rodeo and suck it up and let’s get down to business.”
“Josephine, give the girl a break,” Dorothy said.
I stared at Nana Jo and then burst out laughing. “It’s okay. Nana Jo’s right. I can’t afford to wallow in self-doubt. We’ll just have to do the best we can.”
“That’s right.” She patted my hand again. “That’s all anyone can hope for. Now, let’s get back to work.”
“Well, I’ll go next if no one else wants to go.” Ruby Mae looked up from her knitting.
Everyone nodded their agreement.
So, she continued. “Well, I looked at that website Josephine told us about where the people gave reviews. One of the reviews was from Chattanooga, Tennessee. I didn’t know the couple who got married, but my cousin Flora Belle has a granddaughter who works at the Aquarium. That’s where the guy said the reception was held.” She paused to finish a row of knitting. “So, I called Izola, that’s Flora Belle’s granddaughter, and she remembered that wedding. Apparently, Lydia Lighthouse came through that place like a maniac. She was like a madwoman the way she yelled at the staff. Everything had to be perfect. If a flower was slightly off, she was a raving lunatic.”
“Well, we knew she wasn’t nice,” Nana Jo said with a bit of disappointment.
“Not nice? Izola said she spent hours begging and pleading with people not to quit. She had to pay triple salary to get people to work with her and spent the majority of her time running interference to keep Lydia from going off on people.” Ruby Mae looked up. “But, the biggest thing Izola told me was how the caterers, florist, and photographers complained because she didn’t pay them what she promised.” Ruby Mae looked around. “Well, you know if she did that in Chattanooga, she probably did it in other cities too.”
The others nodded.
“Well done, Ruby Mae,” I said.
“Yes. You’re absolutely right, Ruby Mae.” Nana Jo typed. “I’ll bet she did the same thing to the people here.”
“She certainly did to the florist.” Dorothy took a bite of cake and wiped her mouth.
“I paid a visit to Felicity Abrams of Felicity’s Florals.” Dorothy ate another piece of cake. “You know this is good stuff.” She chewed. “Felicity was really standoffish. At first, she didn’t want to say anything against Lydia, but I told her the woman was dead now, what difference could it possibly make?” She ate more cake.
“Dorothy Clark, if you don’t stop eating that cake and tell me what you found out, I’m going to scream.” Nana Jo glared.
Dorothy stuck out her tongue. “All right. Felicity said Lydia threatened her.”
“Threatened her? With what?” I asked.
“She told Felicity if she didn’t give her a discount on the flowers, she would make sure she was blackballed in the wedding planning community.”
“Could she do that?” I asked.
Dorothy nodded. “Apparently she could. Lydia Lighthouse was a rude, arrogant, mean-spirited woman, but she knew the right people. Apparently, one word from Lydia Lighthouse could ruin a business.”
“That’s what I found out too.” Irma took a sip from her glass and belched. “Sorry, were you done?”
Dorothy nodded. “I am now.” She slid her cake away.
“Teddy is this really nice accountant I
met at the casino.” Irma took a compact out of her purse and reapplied her blood-red lipstick. “He didn’t know Lydia Lighthouse, but he did know that caterer, Rudy Blakemore.” She finished her lipstick and patted her beehive hairpiece to make sure not a hair was out of place. Satisfied with her appearance, she put away her compact. “Apparently, he overheard Rudy telling his partner he was glad someone did away with Lydia Lighthouse because she was dragging him into the poorhouse.”
“Well, well, well.” Nana Jo smiled. “Nice work, Irma. Did he say anything else?”
She shook her head. “No. That’s all he heard, but I told him to see what else he could find out.” She smiled. “He’s picking me up for dinner tonight, and I’ll see what else I can get out of him.” She coughed.
“That just leaves me.” Nana Jo swiped a few screens on her iPad. “Freddie’s son, Mark, got some of the same information Stinky Pitt gave to Sam. Lydia Lighthouse was probably strangled. I asked him to find out if the killer would have to be really strong or if it could have been done by a woman.”
“Good question. That will help narrow the suspects.” I smiled.
“Well, don’t get excited.” Nana Jo shook her head. “Unfortunately, because the killer used a scarf, it could have been a man or a woman.”
“Darn!” I said.
“However, we should find out more tonight.”
Something about the way she said we and the way she avoided eye contact made me suspicious. “We?”
“Yes. We’re having dinner tonight at the Avenue,” she said.
“Who do you mean we?” I asked.
“We, as in Grace, Harold, Jenna, Tony, you, and me.” She hesitated. “Margaret and Oscar.
I stared at her. “When exactly were you planning to tell me?”
She sighed. “Look, I don’t want to go to dinner with that stuck-up snob any more than you do, but if we’re going to find out who killed that woman so your mother can get married, then we need to talk to the one person who knew her.”
I glared, but she was right. I was only thinking about myself. This time was harder than any of the other times we had to investigate people. If I took time to analyze my feelings, I might acknowledge it was because this time my mom was involved. I loved my mother, but she had a strange power. Within a few hours in her presence, I wasn’t an adult anymore. I quickly morphed from a confident, independent modern woman into a timid, uncertain, guilt-ridden marshmallow. If I failed, I would have to live with the knowledge that I had ruined my mother’s life and all chances for her happiness. No pressure there.
Our meeting broke up with plans to meet again tomorrow. Nana Jo and I went upstairs to dress for round two of Meet the Robertsons. Emma, Jillian, and Lexi were still at the dining room table looking through bridal magazines. There were pictures they’d ripped out covering the entire surface of the table.
Angelo was sitting on a barstool.
“What are we going to do about dinner for them?” I whispered to Nana Jo as I glanced around the room.
She smiled and walked into the middle of the room. “Sam and I have to go. Who wants pizza?”
Every hand went up, including mine. Nana Jo glared at me and I lowered my hand. She reached into her purse and pulled out three twenty-dollar bills and placed them on the counter in the kitchen near Dawson, who was practicing his piping skills by creating designs on cardboard.
“Pepperoni. Pepperoni. Pepperoni.” Angelo bounced up and down.
“Vegetable or cheese?” Jillian shrugged. “I’m not picky.”
“Not picky, just no meat.” Dawson looked at Emma. “What about you?”
“Forget that, I want the works.” Emma ripped a picture from a magazine and added it to a pile.
“Me too. I like everything.” Lexi had Snickers on her lap and was flipping through magazines with one hand and stroking the poodle with the other.
“Good. One pepperoni, one veggie, and two with everything except the kitchen sink.” Dawson picked up his phone and was placing the order before we left the room.
I wasn’t really in the mood for a fancy dinner at the Avenue, but I reminded myself it wasn’t about me. I needed to get information, and this would help. I hesitated about what to wear. I had two new outfits. One was a cocktail dress I was saving for a date with Frank. The cocktail dress would be appropriate for the setting. However, I knew Frank had to work and wouldn’t be joining us, and I selfishly wanted him to see me in the dress. So, I opted for a black pencil skirt with boots and a nice top. I gave myself a good look from all angles in the floor-length mirror in my bedroom.
I picked up the jeans I’d worn earlier and a piece of paper floated onto the floor. When I picked it up, I saw it was the paper Frank gave me earlier with the name and telephone number of the foster family. I picked up the note, took a deep breath, and took out my phone and quickly dialed the number before I lost my nerve.
“Hello?”
“Hello, may I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Hooper?”
“Mrs. Hooper speaking.”
“I was wondering if . . . do you have a foster daughter named Alexis Gelano?”
She released a heavy sigh. “What’s she done now?”
“I was just—”
“I’m not responsible. Whatever she’s done, I’m not responsible. My sister works as a paralegal and I’ve been assured whatever trouble she’s done, you can’t hold me responsible.”
“I’m not trying to hold anyone responsible. I was . . . well, I was wondering if I could speak to her.”
“She’s not here.”
“Where is she?”
There was a pause. “Look, who did you say you were?”
“I’m just . . . trying to find her. That’s all. What about her brother, Angelo, is he there?”
“No. He’s not here either. Look, who are you and why are you wanting to speak to them?”
“My name is Samantha Washington. I was hoping Lexi might be interested in an afterschool program. Perhaps you could tell me when you expect her?”
“I dunno when she’ll be in, but she’s too young for any programs.”
“Could you call—”
She hung up.
I held the phone for a few seconds and heard a noise behind me. I turned. My door was slightly ajar and Snickers snuck in. I grabbed my handbag and Snickers and I joined the others in the main room.
Nana Jo was dressed in a lovely emerald-green dress and heels.
“You look lovely,” I said.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
The pizza arrived and Dawson grabbed the money from the counter and ran downstairs.
Angelo jumped up and down. “Yay! Pepperoni. Pepperoni. Pepperoni.”
Nana Jo and I said our goodbyes and hurried downstairs.
The drive from downtown North Harbor to downtown South Harbor was short. Despite a continuous blanket of snow that had fallen throughout the entire day, the roads weren’t bad.
I pulled up to the front to let Nana Jo out, and a young man in bright red livery rushed out to valet park the car.
I rolled down the window. “That’s okay, I can park myself. I just want to let my grandmother out.”
“Just let him park the car,” Nana Jo said as she got out of the car. “I want to talk to you.”
I wasn’t accustomed to valet parking or dinners at fancy restaurants that had valet parking, but I grabbed my purse and got out. I took the ticket the young man gave me and hurried inside.
I stopped at the grand staircase just inside the building. “What’s up?”
“I know you’re worried about not solving this murder and disappointing your mother, but I want you to know I have faith in you—” She held up a hand to stop me from interrupting. “I have faith in you and I know your mother does too. We have a lot more faith in you than in Stinky Pitt.” She pursed her lips and frowned.
“I appreciate your faith, but—”
“Regardless of what happens, this isn’t yo
ur fault. If by some miracle you don’t find the murderer, which I don’t think will happen, mind you, but if by some stretch of the imagination you lose your gray matter and suddenly become brain dead and don’t solve this murder, then we’ve got an ace up our sleeve.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Ace? What ace?”
She pointed.
I turned and my sister, Jenna, and her husband, Tony, pulled up outside.
“Best attorney in the Midwest,” Nana Jo said with pride. “Your sister is a pit bull and she’ll rip apart any evidence that dingbat of a district attorney tries to throw at her.”
My brother-in-law got out and walked around to escort Jenna into the building.
“What are you two staring at?” Jenna asked. “Let’s go. I’m starving.” She walked past us and went downstairs to the restaurant.
Tony shrugged and followed his wife.
I looked at my grandmother. “Pit bull?”
She nodded. “Pit bull.”
Harold and Mom were already downstairs when we arrived. The last to arrive were the couple with the shortest commute. Margaret and Oscar strolled in right as the waiter was showing us to our seats.
Harold had requested a table that was positioned in between a large picture window and the fireplace. The table offered excellent views of the icy winter wonderland that was Lake Michigan in the dead of winter, with the heat and atmosphere of a warm, crackling fireplace. Margaret headed toward the seat closest to the fireplace, but Harold was quicker.
“Margaret, I’m sure you don’t mind if Grace sits here closest to the fireplace.” He pulled out the chair and helped Mom sit, not waiting to hear whether Margaret minded or not.
Margaret obviously minded, because she sulkily stood nearby.
“Margaret, why don’t you take this seat near Sam and me,” Nana Jo said with so much syrup in her voice I had to glance back to make sure who was talking. She winked and whispered, “I’m going to need insulin before the night is over.”
Margaret plastered on a fake smile and sat down in the seat Nana Jo indicated.
I took the seat on one side, while Nana Jo sat on her other side. Tony and Jenna sat on either side of Oscar, and the stage was set.