Evil Turns

by Jane Tesh

  “I know. I like to plan, and having this major event in my life up in the air is driving me crazy.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to set up your nursery. Nine months, to be exact.” She paused and toyed with her pen, as if pondering what to say. I thought there was something unpleasant and baby-related she was reluctant to tell me, but her next words surprised me. “I should probably make an appointment to come see you, Madeline.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “I hesitate to even mention it. It’s a little ridiculous.”

  “Believe me, I’ve dealt with some very ridiculous cases.”

  “And you’ve handled some very sensitive matters in town, too.” She reached into her desk drawer and took out an envelope. “This is both.”

  She slid the envelope across to me. I opened it and took out two photos. One showed a younger Kathleen in shorts and a skimpy tank top chugging a glass of beer almost as big as she was. The second photo showed her dressed in a robe and standing in the middle of a pentagram, surrounded by candles.

  More witches? “Do you know who sent these? Is someone blackmailing you, Kathleen?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Were these on Facebook?”

  “Thank God, no. One of my sorority sisters took these.”

  “Some kind of initiation?”

  “No. The one with the beer is the ridiculous picture. I can deal with that. But the other one, not so much.”

  “Doesn’t look good.”

  “Oh, it’s not Satanism. I was interested in all kinds of alternative medicines, natural healing, the wiccan lifestyle.”

  “But to someone looking at this picture, the pentagram might say witchcraft.”

  “Foolish, I’ll admit.”

  “You weren’t part of the Darkrose Coven, were you?”

  “No, no, it wasn’t any kind of coven.”

  It would have been an amazing and convenient coincidence. “You said not exactly blackmailing you. Is it the sorority sister? What does she want? Are there more copies of these pictures?”

  “I’m sure there are copies, and I need you to get them before she posts them all over the Web.”

  I considered her problem. “You know what your best course of action is. You post the pictures. Make a joke out of it before she does. Say it was for a bet, or a Halloween party. Everyone does stupid things. If you’re upfront and admit it, people will understand and forgive you.”

  She looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Madeline. How would you feel if awful pictures of you appeared on the Internet?”

  “You don’t know about my pageant past, do you? I can show you hundreds of ridiculous photos of me in my Little Miss getups, and there’s a really embarrassing video of the time my violin string broke in the middle of the talent competition and smacked me in the nose.”

  She managed a slight smile. “Yes, but that’s a beauty pageant. Forgive me for saying so, but that doesn’t have the same impact on a career. I can’t make a joke out of these pictures. I just can’t.”

  “What do you think this sorority sister of yours wants to accomplish by sending you these pictures?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in years. I don’t know what she wants, or why she decided now is the time to harass me.”

  “Have you considered contacting her?”

  “And end up begging and pleading? No, thank you. I’d prefer it to be handled by a professional.”

  “All right. Give me this woman’s name and address, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Kathleen wrote down the information on a piece of paper and handed it to me. I almost dropped the note. “Your sorority sister is Olivia Decker?”

  “What’s wrong?” Kathleen asked. “Do you know her?”

  “Oh, I know her.” I couldn’t believe it. “She almost married Jerry.” Olivia Decker, a hard-as-polished-nails blonde who wanted to run every aspect of Jerry’s life, the tough little gold digger who almost turned the Eberlin house into a B&B. This sounded exactly like something she would do.

  “Is it going to be a problem, Madeline?”

  I looked at Kathleen’s worried face. I would not mind going a few more rounds with Olivia, especially if I could foil another of her schemes. “A problem? Oh, no, not at all.”

  Chapter Four

  At one-thirty, I cleaned up and put on my fanciest cocktail dress, a little number in red lace and a skirt layered in overlapping panels that hugged my figure and showed off my legs. Gold metallic high heels completed the outfit. I rarely wore much makeup, but for today, I made sure it was perfect. I added a pair of small gold-and-diamond hoop earrings and a gold bracelet. I was ready to blend in.

  Amanda had divorced her husband, and apparently she got everything. Her house on Sunnyside Lane was a huge Colonial-style home with a landscaped yard and a four-car garage. The party was in the backyard on a wide gray stone terrace overlooking tennis courts and a swimming pool. The terrace could’ve easily been a centennial park. A fountain sparkled in one corner, surrounded by massive white and green ceramic flower pots filled with decorative ferns. In another corner near a rose garden was a large table with a lacy white cloth; a silver centerpiece filled with pink and red roses; silver platters piled high with little sandwiches, cookies and cakes; and a crystal punchbowl with heart-shaped ice cubes floating in pink punch.

  My appearance caused quite a stir. Everyone in town was used to seeing me in casual clothes, even jeans and tee-shirts as I went around investigating. There hadn’t been an occasion for me to go all out, and from the looks I was getting, I’d surprised the crowd. I resisted the urge to give them a pageant wave. I really hadn’t paid much attention to the Improvement Society, figuring it was like the Garden Club or the Art Guild, so I expected to see older women in the Society, but, oddly enough, there were two women my age and two in their teens.

  “Madeline, so glad you could come!” Amanda made a big show of greeting me and showing me around. She introduced me to her guests, most of whom I knew, including Constance Tate, her second-in-command. Constance was a tall aristocratic-looking woman with short silvery hair and pale blue eyes.

  She gave me an approving glance. “You look wonderful, Madeline. I didn’t know you were interested in joining the Society.”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “What do you think of our latest project?”

  “It’s very ambitious. Do you have an idea how to finance it?”

  Before Constance could answer, Amanda moved me along to the next two women. “This is Eloise Michaels, and I want you to be sure to meet Gloria Goins.” Her underlying tone said, “Keep an eye on these two.”

  After meeting the rest of the group, I worked my way around to the teens. They looked up from their cell phones and introduced themselves as Britney Garrett and Clover Comer. Clover. Now there was a name I’d have to tell Jerry. Britney’s long dark hair was streaked with light lavender strands. She wore a sleeveless white-lace top and a very short white skirt. Clover was blond, dressed in another tiny white skirt with a blue top with a design of butterflies. Both girls had on gold bangles and many earrings. They admired my dress.

  “Where did you find it?” Clover asked.

  “This is leftover from my pageant days.”

  “You look great.” Britney pointed to my shoes. “Those are fabulous. And I love your eye shadow. Is it Plum Perfect?”

  “Smoky Plum.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “Thanks. It’s nice to see younger people interested in the Improvement Society.”

  “Yeah, well, it sounded cool.”

  I did not for a minute believe that these young ladies were in any way interested in being a part of this group, and as we chatted on about fashion, I became convinced they were here because someone made them come. Then the breeze lifted Britney’s long hai
r, and when she brushed it out of her face, I saw the black rose tattoo on her wrist.

  “That’s a nice tattoo.”

  She gave it a glance and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “Annie who works at Deely’s has one just like it.”

  “Lots of people do. It’s kind of a thing right now.”

  The siren call of their phones pulled them back into the Internet, and I continued my round of the terrace. No one took anything, although Eloise did give the silver centerpiece longing looks. Checking out the guests, I realized the older women were among the wealthiest in town, and when the discussion turned to Flower of the South and what it would cost to pay for the production it occurred to me that this party was a fundraiser for the outdoor drama.

  It must have occurred to Harold Stover, too, because halfway through the party, he showed up uninvited.

  Amanda met him as he crossed the terrace to confront her, a little half-smile hinting she was ready for battle. “Well, what a nice surprise. Care for some tea, Harold?”

  Harold got right to the point. “I know what’s going here, and I’ve come to put a stop to it.”

  She gestured with her glass of punch to the groups of women who had stopped talking and nibbling cakes to observe the impending fireworks. “You’re against garden parties now?”

  Harold had obviously been doing more research into the matter. He waved a piece of paper in her face. “You cannot have an outdoor drama on city property unless you have all the proper permits and a majority of votes from the commissioners.”

  “Nonsense! We’re merely a group of private citizens who want to put on a show. There’s no law against that. And who says we’re going to have it on city property?”

  Harold was dangerously red in the face. “There is no money in our budget for this!”

  “It’s not going to cost the city anything.”

  “Are you going to pay for the lights? Garbage pickup? Parking? Seats? Concessions? Programs and posters and advertising? If your drama is on city property, you’re responsible for these things and more.”

  “And what if it isn’t? We could have it in a field somewhere, or in someone’s backyard.”

  “There’s still the issue of crowd control, insurance, emergency vehicles if someone gets sick, or a fire breaks out.”

  She waved him away. “Details, details.”

  “This is your last warning!”

  “Would you care for some punch?”

  “Don’t fight me on this, Amanda!” He threw the papers down and stalked off. He looked so angry, I wasn’t sure he should get behind the wheel, so I followed him to his car where he turned on me. “I thought you were going to do something!”

  He’d been angry at my office and at the theater, but this was approaching unreasonable. “You’d better calm down, or you’re going to have a stroke. Amanda’s baiting you, can’t you tell?”

  “I’m so mad at her, I could—” He brought his hands up as if gripping Amanda’s neck. “She doesn’t have one shred of business sense!”

  “Why don’t you wait and see how this turns out? Right now, you’re the only one so dead-set against the idea. If enough people in Celosia want an outdoor drama, they’ll find a way to finance it.”

  He jerked a thumb toward the party. “Like all those rich biddies in there.”

  “It ultimately helps the town, doesn’t it?”

  He’d cooled down a little. “I suppose.”

  “Why don’t I call you after the party and let you know what they decided?”

  “I’d appreciate that, thank you.” He glared at the house. “One of these days, I’m going to kill Amanda.”

  “Not the smartest thing to say, Harold.”

  This brought a slight grin. “Not to you, anyway.”

  He drove off, and I went back to the party.

  “Such a wet blanket,” was Amanda’s comment.

  “He’s concerned about Celosia.” I didn’t expect her to understand Harold’s point of view, and she didn’t.

  She shrugged. “If he were truly concerned, he’d be behind this project instead of trying to derail it.”

  “Have you actually thought through all the details?”

  “I’ve got members of the Improvement Society working on everything. We’re planning a full presentation at the next town council meeting.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Harold that?”

  “Did he look like he would listen to anything I said? Or believe anything I said?”

  I had to admit he didn’t, and he didn’t sound as if he believed me, either, when I called him after the party.

  “She’s up to something, Madeline. I don’t trust her one inch.”

  “If you can hold on until the next town council meeting, Amanda plans to give a full presentation.”

  “So she intends to bulldoze over any objections, as usual.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Sorry to sound so cranky, Madeline, but I’m under a lot of stress lately. I’ve got business deals to tend to, and I guess I’m projecting a lot of my own financial concerns onto this outdoor drama.”

  “Would an outdoor drama be that bad for Celosia?”

  “It’s ridiculous. We have, what, seven thousand people here? Closer to ten, if you count the surrounding communities. But that’s still not enough to support an outdoor drama. It would be a huge commitment.”

  “It might pay off, though. Increased tourist trade, maybe new businesses selling souvenirs.”

  “Like Emmaline Ross bobbleheads? I know the kind of things Amanda is capable of. This business with Roger Price, for instance. He was a fool to marry her. She almost took him for everything he had until he finally caught on and got out. If I hadn’t helped him, he’d be sitting on the street corner selling pencils.”

  Maybe this was the underlying source of the Amanda/Harold feud. “What did Amanda think about you helping her ex?”

  “Oh, she wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t going to let a friend of mine go under. And I’m not going to let Celosia go under, either. Didn’t I hire you to stop her?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Name your price.”

  “Harold, I want you to relax.”

  “I’ll relax when that woman is out of my life.” He hung up.

  ***

  The party finished around four o’clock with an announcement from Amanda that auditions were at the theater tonight.

  “In case you were wondering, I have permission,” she told me. “I went by the municipal building this morning. You know, the mayor is so excited about being in the play. Everyone is, except old Stick-in-the-Mud Stover. I hope we’ll see you and Jerry there.”

  I assured her we wouldn’t miss it.

  ***

  When I stopped by Deely’s, Annie was sitting at one of the booths, refilling the ketchup bottles.

  “Wow, look at you,” she said. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Amanda Price’s garden party. Security detail.”

  She grinned. “That outfit doesn’t work as well for an undercover job, and I don’t think you could chase bad guys in those heels.”

  “Fortunately, no one ran off with the silver.”

  “What can I get for you?”

  I sat down across from her. “I need a little information. Do you know Britney Garrett or Clover Comer?”

  She took a napkin and wiped a blob of ketchup that had escaped. “Oh, yeah, I know them. We all graduate this year.”

  “They don’t seem to be the kind of girls who’d be interested in the Improvement Society.”

  “Yeah, they said they wanted to do something for the town. I think Britney’s aunt is in it.”

  “Britney has a rose tattoo like yours.”

  Annie kept her eyes on the ketchup bottles. “Uh-huh. Lots of the girls got one.”

&nb
sp; “Lots? How many would you say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “May I see yours?”

  She turned her wrist. The black rose looked very much like the rose I’d seen on the Wicca symbols site.

  “What’s the deal, Madeline? Are you thinking of getting one?”

  “Have you ever heard of Darkrose Coven?”

  “No. Why?”

  She’d answered very quickly. “There may be a connection to the body found at Phoenix Vineyard.”

  “You think I’d have something to do with a thing like that?”

  “No, of course not. But I think someone in the coven might.”

  Annie remained defensive. “I know you’re always snooping around for clues, and you’ve solved murders here in town, but there’s no coven, okay? We like this rose design, that’s all there is to it.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  She sighed as if I’d asked her the world’s toughest question. “Me, Britney, Clover, and about three other girls. You want their names and addresses? They’ll all tell you the same thing.”

  “Yes, please.”

  She pulled her pad from her apron pocket, tore off a piece of paper, and began to write. Harold Stover came in the diner, saw me, and interrupted.

  “Excuse me, Annie. I need to talk to Madeline.”

  “No problem.” She moved to the counter where she continued to write, her body language suggesting this was an arduous task and I’d better be grateful.

  Harold took her place in the booth. “I want to apologize. My temper got the best of me, and I want you to know that’s not how I am.”

  “It’s okay, Harold. Amanda brings out the worst in everyone.”

  “I don’t know why I let her get to me. Even if she had the money, there’s no way she can get this project of hers off the ground. Another show about our pioneer ancestors? It’s dull and pointless. I think she has another motive, and that’s what I’d like for you to find out.”

  I did have a hard time imaging how such a socialite as Amanda would find a tiny historical event intriguing, or why she’d want to spend her time and money on such a project. “I can do that.”