Playing the Devil

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Playing the Devil Page 26

by R. J. Lee


  Hollis pressed on with a flabbergasted expression on his face. “What will happen to her?”

  “She’ll go to prison, of course,” Bax added. “But as for the details of the sentencing, that’ll be up to the lawyers and the judge. Her golf pro days will be over for a while. It’s a shame, too. She was very good at what she did, according to all my sources. She just went a little bit crazy on the spur of the moment, it seems. I guess you could say the same thing about Carly Ogle. There must have been something treacherous in the air that night besides thunder and lightning and driving rain.”

  “Brent Ogle was in the air out there,” Wendy said. “I wonder if it’s possible to poison an entire environment with your mere presence.”

  Then Lyndell managed a little gasp and turned to Wendy. “What a prescient investigative reporter you are. You were exactly right to suggest holding up on releasing your article until this case was closed. We can’t very well tout Mitzy Stone as an example of female accomplishments now, can we?”

  Wendy could do little but shrug. “Afraid not.”

  “So . . . we just focus on Deedah, then? Do you think we’ll have enough material to make it work?”

  Wendy thought about it for a few moments and said, “Why not? We can concentrate on her accomplishments at the RCC and even include a little bit about the Bridge Bunch as a sidebar.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, wasn’t Carly Ogle a member of your bridge club, though?” Lyndell said.

  Indeed, the Bridge Bunch was now short a critical fourth member to make up a table. Wendy mentally cringed at Lyndell’s reminder and said, “Unfortunately . . . she was.”

  It would now be up to Deedah and herself to recruit at least one more new member from the ranks of Rosalieans to keep the fledgling club going. Wendy wondered yet again if her desire to become proficient at playing the game would ever become a reality. Incessant hurdles coming at her from all directions had presented themselves since she had made up her mind to even try her hand a couple of years ago. And with no appreciable success so far.

  Before the group broke up and headed in all different directions, Bax stole another heartfelt hug from his daughter and half-whispered in her ear, “I’m so proud of you, I could just explode. You took a huge risk lunging at Carly Ogle with a gun in her hand—and I don’t even want to think about what could have happened—but I can’t fault you for being brave and putting your life on the line. You’re just like your dear old dad. I’ve done the same thing in my job all my life. You may look like your beautiful, talented mother, but you have my guts and instincts. So I’ll say it again for the millionth time: I love you, daughter a’ mine.”

  She pulled away just far enough to reward him with a smile for the ages. “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Remembering her promise to Hollis that she would have him and Deedah out to the bungalow some time soon to see her mother’s artwork, Wendy decided to increase the number of people coming to her little dinner party by two. It occurred to her that adding extras might also take some of the pressure off Bax and Lyndell to “click,” particularly since the conversation would probably center around Valerie Lyons Winchester’s famous acrylics on the walls. At least in the beginning. Sometimes, suggesting an interesting subject that fascinated everyone was the secret ingredient for a successful dinner party, and before they knew it, strangers or mere acquaintances had discovered their mutual interests and become friends. For her part, Wendy savored the realization that sleuthing skills were not her only talent.

  Once everyone had arrived on a chilly November Saturday evening, the subject of the paintings on the walls kicked things off as expected.

  “I positively adore her primitive technique,” Hollis was saying while browsing the collection in the living room above Wendy’s flamingo-colored flea-market-find sofa. “She really was quite fond of blue, black, and silver in this one, wasn’t she? And even though everyone knows the Mississippi River is actually brown, this interpretation really speaks to me. There are times when the sky can make even muddy water look blue. Perhaps it’s a bit of a stretch since this is a night sky, but that’s what art is all about. You create it through your own filter.” He lifted his glass of Chardonnay to the painting and took a generous swallow.

  “That’s from her Moon on the River collection,” Wendy said, after sipping her wine as well. “It completely sold out not long after she put it up for sale. She was thrilled to get that kind of support from her hometown, and she immediately turned out her Sun on the River collection. That got snapped up just as fast.”

  Deedah, who was standing nearby in an elegant gold caftan, said, “Don’t I know it. I remember that I fully intended to buy one of that first collection myself and hang it in my parlor. But I went out of town for a week to visit your aunt Trudy, Hollis, and when I got back, they were all gone. I don’t remember where I was when that second collection appeared, but I’ve tried to get one of either of them ever since. It’s useless. People hold on to them like they were diamonds. It seems their value just keeps on increasing with every passing year.”

  “I’d sell you one if I had an extra,” Wendy told her. “But the one you’re looking at is the only one I have from that particular collection, and I doubt Daddy would part company with his, would you?”

  From his vantage point on the sofa where he was sitting cozily beside Lyndell, holding her hand, Bax said, “No, I don’t think I’d let mine go at any price.”

  Wendy was encouraged by the sight of her father’s handholding, as well as the charming simple black dress that Lyndell had chosen to wear. Well, it wasn’t exactly simple. There were some sparklies here and there, drawing attention to certain strategic areas of her figure.

  “Well, every one of these paintings is just fabulous,” Hollis said with a sweeping gesture that included the entire wall. “Such bold strokes, and the way she makes the water pop with those ripples of white from the moonlight. I’m totally jealous. I’m barely getting a trickle of business at the gallery, no matter what I do.”

  “You need to do another grand opening,” Deedah said. “I think some people were out of town when you had the first one.”

  “Oh, please. That many people couldn’t have been out of town, Mother. Besides, I don’t want to appear to be pandering too much. I mean, what’s next—buy one, get one free?”

  As usual, Hollis’s hyperbole produced an outburst of laughter from around the room, and on that note, Wendy said, “I think dinner is about ready, folks. Ross just gave me the high sign on the dinner rolls. And let me say, there’s nothing like a man who will help out in the kitchen.”

  “That’s me,” Ross said, raising his hand with a smile after taking the rolls out of the oven. “I can put on a mitt with the best of ’em.”

  * * *

  Over a dinner of roasted chicken with rosemary, dirty rice, and squash casserole at Wendy’s rustic kitchen table, conversation had drifted from artwork to the aftermath of Brent Ogle’s murder.

  “Tell us. Do you have any prospects for a new golf pro yet, Deedah?” Wendy was saying.

  “It’s a little too early yet,” she said. “We’ve put out plenty of feelers, but I’m sure somebody will jump at the chance very soon. I have to be honest and tell you, though, I still feel bad for Mitzy. I know she’ll regret for the rest of her life the moment she struck that blow.”

  “It is sad,” Bax added. “It’s been my experience that there are some arrests you just hate to make. But the law is the law. It applies to everyone, and we have our moral code as well. I do have an update on Carly Ogle, though. Her lawyer told me that he will plead diminished capacity for her, as we thought. My take is that she’ll end up in a psychiatric facility of some kind. Perhaps that’s for the best. I doubt she would survive prison very long. It’s been my observation that some people just give up and die when they get into that situation. Carly had already tried to commit suicide once, as we all know.”

  Deedah finished buttering he
r roll and said, “Poor Carly. I can’t imagine what her life was really like on a daily basis, and the whole thing about what kind of man Brent Ogle really was still makes me shudder. He put people on the defensive immediately, and nothing good ever comes of that. You could even say that they were put in a no-win situation. They were forced to deal with him on his terms, not theirs. I don’t believe I’ve ever run across someone like that who produced such bad feelings in everyone. There was no upside to him, and you see the results.”

  Then Lyndell spoke up. “But maybe there’s an upside of a different sort, Deedah. Wendy’s just about finished with her article on your directorship at the RCC. We want to support the work you’ve done and the changes you’ve made, as you know. Of course, we had intended to include Mitzy’s work as the first female golf pro out there, but that’s totally out of the question now. We only hope Wendy’s article will get people to focus on the positive things that the RCC offers to the community. We don’t want them to associate it with murder and mayhem.”

  “Spoken like a true editor,” Wendy said, winking at her boss.

  “Shall we make a toast to my daughter’s article, then?” Bax said.

  Everyone raised their wineglasses and said, “To Wendy’s article.”

  “Thanks, everyone. It’ll be out this coming Wednesday with all the grocery coupons, so there’s your extra incentive to read it and tell all your friends about it, too.”

  * * *

  It was after a dessert of espresso and sherry custard with whipped cream that people started making their manners to leave. But Wendy managed to break away from her hostess duties briefly to take her father aside and whisper, “I need to talk to you in my bedroom for a minute.”

  Bax drew back and looked at her sideways. “What’s this about? Can’t we talk about it right here in front of your mother’s wonderful paintings?”

  Wendy continued to whisper in girlish fashion. “Just humor me, please.” Then she quickly turned to Lyndell and said, “Let me borrow Daddy for just a few moments, will you?”

  Lyndell smiled graciously. “Absolutely. He’s all yours.”

  In the bedroom with the door closed, Bax showed signs of impatience. “What are you up to now?”

  “Nothing,” she said, playing up to him by patting him on the shoulder affectionately. Then they sat on the edge of her bed with the shiny blue quilt that was so delightfully cool to the touch. “I just wanted to ask you what you really thought of Lyndell, that’s all.”

  “I see.” He appeared to be teasing her by tapping his temple with his finger. “Well, let me think about it for a while.”

  “Stop it. Just tell me how you think it went tonight.”

  “I enjoyed it thoroughly. You outdid yourself with the delicious food and the hospitality.”

  She punched him gently on the arm as she’d done from the time she was a little girl. “You know good and well what I meant. Now, give.”

  Finally, he stopped playing games with her. “Okay, then. I think there might be something there. I’ll admit I’m intrigued. She’s very intelligent, of course, but I like the way her hand felt in mine. She wasn’t pushy about anything, either, and that’s all good with me.”

  “Translate, please,” Wendy said, still not satisfied. “Does that mean you’ll definitely be seeing more of her?”

  “If you want an answer right now, I’d have to say yes. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  She put her arm around his shoulder and leaned against him. “That’ll do for now. But I expect you to keep me posted on all developments.”

  He turned, straightened his posture, and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, sir. I mean, ma’am. Now, let me get outta here and escort Lyndell home.”

  “Will there possibly be a good-night kiss at the door?”

  He stood up and gave her a firm, fatherly stare. “That’s too much information to give you right now, young lady. But if anything significant happens, you’ll be the first to know.” Then he headed out to join Lyndell and the others.

  * * *

  It was Merleece’s Tuesday to clean up Wendy’s bungalow once again, and no sooner had the two good friends sat down to their morning cup of coffee at the kitchen table together than Merleece gave Wendy an unsettling stare.

  “Strawberry, I don’t think you gone like what I have to say to you, but I have to warn you, else you gone be mad with me.”

  Wendy put down her cup and drew back slightly in her chair. “A warning, you say? This sounds very serious.”

  “Maybe it is, or maybe not. But I don’t wanna see you surprised by it, no matter what.”

  “For heaven’s sake, tell me. You’ve got me on pins and needles imagining all sorts of horrible things.”

  Merleece wriggled around a bit in her chair, sounding uncomfortable. “Miz Crystal . . . she say . . . she say . . . well, she say to me yesterday evenin’ . . .” Merleece couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

  Wendy was both alarmed and slightly annoyed. “What did Miz Crystal say?” Then, a worst-case scenario popped into her head. “Oh, no. Tell me she’s not going to let you go, please. Not after all the hard work I know you’ve done for her in that enormous house.”

  Merleece shook her head emphatically. “No, no. Nothin’ like that. I’m prob’ly the one person in Rosalie who’d put up with her and her crazy ways. It just that she find out ’bout that openin’ you got out there at the country club in that bridge club a’ yours. Knowin’ her like I do, she could be on her way out there now to talk to Miz Deedah Hornesby ’bout applyin’ or whatever you gotta do to get in and play. I mean, that woman have trouble waitin’ for the sun to come up. I just thought you oughta know—and Miz Deedah, too. But I also thought maybe you could be the one to tell her instead a’ me since we don’t rightly know each other.”

  Wendy took a sip of her coffee and widened her eyes. “You’re right. That is on the order of a warning. You already know how desperate Miz Crystal was to join the Rosalie Bridge Club last year before it met with its disastrous end, despite the fact that she denies ever having made that offer of ten thousand dollars to join up.”

  “You think she might offer that kinda money again, Strawberry? ”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her.” Then Wendy thought about it for a while. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I have no idea how Miz Crystal plays the game of bridge, but I do know that Deedah could definitely use the money to run the country club. We just lost our largest contributor in Brent Ogle, and his wife is out of the picture now also. So an additional source of funding might come in handy, and we wouldn’t have to do anything but let Miz Crystal play bridge.”

  Merleece was almost cackling now. “Her money . . . that is one thing. But lemme tell you, her mouth and her opinions, they somethin’ else entirely. I oughta know since I have to lissen to her erry day goin’ on ’bout this and that as if any little drop a’ common sense ever enter her mind. If you willlin’ to put up with that, then you go ahead and let her in. Maybe she act more normal if she finally get to play bridge, but I’m just tellin’ you what I see and hear at Old Concord Manor.”

  Profoundly sobered by Merleece’s comments, Wendy decided to excuse herself and immediately talk to Deedah on her cell in the bedroom.

  Wendy began bringing her up to speed on who and what was coming her way, but Deedah interrupted her quickly. “I’m afraid she’s already been here. As a matter of fact, she just this minute left dressed up like she was going to the opera. I mean, why else would you wear opera gloves to come out and talk to me?”

  Wendy was taken aback at first, but it was common knowledge that Crystal Forrest wasted no time in going after whatever it was she wanted next since coming to Rosalie with all of her late husband’s wealth a few years ago. “And how did that go?”

  “She sort of made an offer that I think the RCC may not be able to refuse,” Deedah said. “But I told her I’d have to talk it over with you first. You must be psychic, because I was about to call you.


  “Let me guess. She offered you money.”

  “A great deal of money. Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  Wendy wavered between amusement and astonishment. “She’s upped the ante quite a bit, it looks like.”

  Deedah’s tone remained serious, however. “But she didn’t offer the twenty-five thousand to join the Bridge Bunch. Oh, no. She said she wanted to contribute it to the RCC now that Brent Ogle was no longer with us. She doesn’t let much get past her, it seems.”

  “Correct. I’m certain she pays close attention to what’s in the paper every day and does tons of research before she makes one of her social-climbing moves. So, what do you want to do about this?”

  Deedah was most emphatic. “I think we should take her contribution and let her play some bridge with us. At this point, she’s the answer to our prayer for extra funding. I know Hollis will go along with it—we don’t have to worry about that. So, do you have any objections to having her join under these circumstances?”

  Wendy hesitated to pass along Merleece’s studied opinion of her employer. That might deep-six the deal. Instead, she presented a nonjudgmental front. “I have to confess I’ve never really been around the woman long enough to see for myself. I mean, I’ve heard a lot of things, but we’re only talking about playing a game with her. So, unless she doesn’t know what it takes to make a legitimate opening bid or anything else, I’m onboard with your suggestion. Crystal Forrest is our new fourth. Pencil her in right now.”

  “Done,” Deedah said. Then there was a sigh at the other end of the phone. “There’s also an executive decision I’ve made, and I think it’s an important one. So I want to run it past you.”

  “You sound slightly conflicted. As our esteemed director, you know you don’t need my permission to do anything.”

  “I realize that. It’s just the nature of the beast. I think we should remove that hot tub, since I’m uncomfortable with it still being there. Some people might see it and be reminded of the fact that it was an actual crime scene with that tape all around it, and I don’t want that image to continue. I’m wondering if those in the know will even want to use it now.” Deedah paused for a little shudder. “I don’t want potential new members being given a guided tour of the place and taking a chance that such a hideous thing will be pointed out to them, or they’ll bring it up themselves. You don’t think I’m being a bit paranoid about all this, do you?”

 

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