Someone grabbed me from behind. I whirled and shrieked, fist raised for attack. Duane laughed down at me. I punched him in the arm. “You scared me.”
“Couldn’t resist. Why are you standing on the outskirts of this craziness?” He grabbed my hand and dragged me behind him. “Let’s join the frenzy. I want to look at the tools.”
With all the work still waiting on me to prepare for the evening’s party, I had a hard time concentrating, even when Duane exclaimed with delight at some blackened, oily, piece of metal. I meandered away. Maybe I’d find something suitable for my new home.
Melvin lifted a hammer from a battered cardboard box and turned the object in his hands. “I can’t believe Kyle is dead. It’s even harder to imagine a sweet girl like Karen bashing him in the head.”
Who told Melvin that Kyle had been killed with a hammer? It hadn’t been in the morning’s paper. They’d only mentioned blunt force trauma to the head. I’d have to write this piece of news in my notebook. Was Bruce aware of it? “I’m sorry for your loss, Melvin. I know you and Kyle were close.”
“Off and on. We were either best friends, or at each other’s throats.” Melvin cleared his throat. “We’d argued earlier that morning about Grandma’s gift. Again. He said a brooch and scarf wasn’t enough for someone who’d lived as long as she had. I said it was the thought that counted, and I was trying to save money. I wonder where he put her gift.” He dropped the tool back in the box and shuffled further down the line of tables.
Had they fought enough for Melvin to kill Kyle? I shook my head. Grasping at straws, Marsha. You’re good at that. People didn’t kill over someone else’s present, did they?
Mom chattered nearby, showing her ring finger to anyone who’d stop and listen. Piled at her elbow was a basket full of assorted colors of yarn and bolts of fabric. She’d scored a boatload for the store, it seemed. Duane leaned against a table talking sports with a man whose name I didn’t know. Lindsey finally showed up and followed Billy around like a puppy. Good. Anyone who could’ve advised me not to interrogate suspects was occupied. I moved to the rack of clothes where Marilyn held a sequined gown up to her.
“Look at this, Marsha.” Marilyn twirled, the gown’s fuchsia sparkles catching the sunlight. “Only ten dollars! I could use something like this in Hollywood. No one needs to know where it came from. Where do you think Stephanie came up with all these gowns?”
“No idea.” I idly fingered a white dress on a hanger. She’d most likely gotten them for company Christmas parties from years gone by. Maybe I could go to the masquerade party as Marilyn Monroe in the Seven Year Itch. I grabbed the gown and tossed it over my shoulder. Sure enough, a blond wig lay in a basket at my feet. I reached for it the same time as Marilyn.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Her normally pretty face twisted. “I’m going to your party as Marilyn. I share the name and have the body for it.” She raked her gaze from my flip-flop clad feet, up my overall shorts and up to the hair tied back in a ponytail.
That did it. No one insulted my curves but me. I shoved the wig under my shirt. “I got it first, and I’ll make a perfectly fine Marilyn Monroe.” At least I was pretty sure Duane would think so. “You’re hair is already the same color. You don’t need the wig.” And if she didn’t stop being mean I’d rescind her invitation!
Marilyn took a deep breath, then forced a smile to her lips. “Fine. I’ll go as a different Hollywood starlet. Maybe Jane Mansfield. It makes no difference to me.”
“Obviously it does. You were willing to fight me over it.”
She stuck her nose in the air. “You’ve been mean to me ever since you met me.”
“I have not.” What was she talking about?
“I hear things, Marsha. I have eyes in my head, and if you knew what was good for you, you’d be a bit more careful about how you treat people. It always comes back to get you in the end.” She spun and stomped away.
Talk about coming out of left field. I treated everyone like the Golden Rule. Kind of. Had she threatened me or only been mad because I got the wig? I should’ve asked more questions. Maybe having the party as open invitation wasn’t a good idea. Someone could kill me while pretending to be someone else. I shook off the gruesome thought and moved to the next table.
“Hey.” Duane picked me up and swung me around. “I thought I was going to have to break up a cat fight. What was that all about?”
I kissed him. “Silly, really. All over a blond wig we both wanted for the party tonight. Did you find anything?”
“Some great tools and old issues of Sports Illustrated.” He shook his head. “People get rid of the best stuff.”
“Imagine that.” I tapped his shoulder. “Put me down before you break your back.”
“I volunteered to help Leroy set up for the party. What time do you want me over?” His arm fell around my waist, and we strolled among the tables.
“Noon or one at the earliest? It doesn’t start until seven.” And I’d done nothing to prepare. No twinkling lights strung, the lawn still needed mowed, and. . . “I’ll catch up with you later, Duane. I need to talk to Melvin.” I dashed off.
I caught up with him as he climbed into his truck. “Hey. Could you come over and mow before the party tonight? I’ll pay you thirty dollars.”
“Sure. I’ll be over in half-an-hour. Can’t afford to turn down money, no matter how cheap.” He slammed his door. “See you later.”
Asking Melvin about the puppy would have to wait until later. Also, if he was so hard up for cash, why pay Marilyn to watch a puppy that could stay in a crate while Melvin worked?
A glance at my watch sent me rushing toward my mother. We’d been digging through junk for an hour. A stack of books caught my eye, and I skidded to a halt. How had Stephanie gotten a hold of my father’s medical journals? I gathered them into my arms and marched toward the buying table.
“Wow, you’ve found quite a few things.” She grinned and opened her box.
“These. Are. Mine.” I fought not to clinch my teeth.
“But you gave them to me to sell.” Her smile faded.
I shook my head. “These were not included. How did you get them?” I glared. “I made it perfectly clear which boxes were for you. What else did you take?”
Her eyes widened. “Go ahead and take them, Marsha. I can see it was a mistake, but you owe me for the dress and wig.”
I clamped my lips together, forked over the astronomical amount of ten dollars and stormed to Mom’s car. These books hadn’t been anywhere near the yard sale donations. I was positive they’d been sitting inside the cottage, ready for a place of prominence on my soon-to-be-put-together bookshelves.
Someone had been in my house. Why?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I twirled in front of my full-length mirror. A mighty fine version of Marilyn Monroe reflected back. All I needed was the air vent beneath me. I pretended to hold down the skirt, and giggled.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Dressed as a boy, Lindsey leaned against the door jamb. “And why are you primping like that?”
My bubble burst. Of course, Lindsey wouldn’t recognize the famous star. My face heated, and I straightened. Thankfully, most of the party guests were adults. “Never mind.”
“Oh, now I recognize her. She’s the girlfriend of President Kennedy.”
Good grief. What were they teaching her in school? I shoved past my daughter and sauntered outside. The yard looked wonderful. Once the sun set, the lights wrapped around every tree trunk would lend a festive air. I placed ribbons and lace on my mom’s and Leroy’s table. Candles flickered from borrowed tables of every size and shape. I grinned. Pretty good for a hillbilly festivity thrown together in two days. Leroy had even sprung for a country and western band.
I paused on the back step and searched the crowd for Duane. He wanted his costume to be a secret. A horn blasted in the front of the house. Holding my skirt in place, I rushed around the corner. Laughter burst from me with all the
force of a summer storm. Sitting behind the wheel of a vintage convertible was Duane’s imitation of a playboy. Slicked back hair, leisure suit, and a breeze carrying a whiff of delicious cologne. I should’ve guessed he’d figure out my costume. The wig and dress slung over my shoulder must have given me away.
He bounded over the side of the car without opening the door and sprinted to my side to swing me up in his arms. “Before the night is over, I expect you to sing me ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President’.” He nuzzled my ear. “You look hot.”
“Dream on, big guy. Besides, you don’t look anything like a President.” Dangerous would be a more apt description. “Even compliments won’t get me to sing for you.”
“Too bad.” Duane put me back on my feet and escorted me to the party.
The band started a rousing two-step, Lindsey and Billy splashed each other with water bottles, and Mom linked arms with Leroy as they walked to the area set aside for dancing. In the shadows, fireflies added their merriment. Not one person wore a President Clinton mask. So much for that aspect of sleuthing. Oh, well. A night of fun and celebration beckoned. Plus, I hung on the arm of the handsomest man in the entire state of Arkansas.
Stephanie, dressed in a trench coat and hat with lips painted redder than mine sat at a table with her husband, Mark. He wore his pharmacist coat. The man obviously had no imagination since he worked as a pharmacist. Marilyn wore the sequined dress and a black wig with tresses hanging half-way down her back. She flirted with a young man I didn’t know. Only one of my suspects was unaccounted for. Melvin hadn’t returned after doing his job earlier in the day. Bruce stood near the buffet table, getting an early start on loading his plate.
“Stop sleuthing for one minute and dance with me.” Duane swung me into a two-step.
“Who said I was sleuthing?”
“It’s obvious.” His breath tickled my neck. “Now, suppose you tell me why you set up this little shindig?”
“My mother’s engagement.” I found it difficult to talk and concentrate on my steps at the same time. Luckily, Duane was lighter on his feet then me and kept his toes away from harm’s reach.
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay. Lindsey and I thought someone might show up in a Clinton mask. A long shot, I know, but I’m ready to try anything.”
“Why?”
I stopped and turned to face him, knowing exactly what his one-word question meant. “I don’t know, really. It started as a way of clearing Lindsey’s name. Now, I just want to know what the connection is. I’m certain there is one and it’s driving me crazy.”
He led me back into the dance steps. “You’ve always been impetuous, but this could be dangerous. You need to think everything through carefully.”
“Excuse me?” I yanked free of his grasp. “I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were.” Hurt feelings radiated across his face.
“You insinuated.” I planted fists on my hips.
His brows drew together. “No, I didn’t. I’m just giving you a word of caution because I love you.”
“Humph.” I whirled and stalked to the buffet table then grabbed a glass of pink lemonade. Duane stood where I left him, his jaw set, and a stormy look on his face. What was I thinking? Two hot heads in a relationship? We were doomed to failure before we get started.
“Mom.” Lindsey approached with Billy in tow. “This is Billy Butler.” My daughter lifted her chin. “I thought it was time for y’all to formally meet.”
The young man in front of me shifted from foot to foot, but held my gaze. Long dark hair fell forward over one eye. His strong chin sported a cleft. It wasn’t hard to see why he’d caught Lindsey’s eye. I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Billy.”
“Ma’am.” He nodded. “Lindsey said you suspected me in the thefts. I’m here to clear your mind of that idea.”
I opened my mouth then shut it. Lindsey had accused him more than me. What did my daughter have up her sleeve? “I have several people on my list.”
“It’s true that I need money for camp, but I’m working, doing odd jobs here and there. I’d never steal.” He squared his shoulders. “My mother taught me better than that.”
“I can see that.” And I could. A light shined from Billy I wished I saw in myself when I looked in the mirror. But I couldn’t help reminding myself history showed many good men were brought down by the greed of money.
He grinned and grabbed Lindsey’s hand. They strolled away, leaning into each other, leaving me alone with Duane across the yard. His face softened and he hurried to my side. “Still mad?”
“No. I wasn’t really. Just frustrated, I think.” I melted into his arms. “I’m missing something obvious.”
“What can I do to help?”
I leaned back and gazed into his face. “You’d help?”
“If it will keep you out of trouble.”
“I can’t guarantee that.” His arms wrapped around me provided my own slice of heaven. “Duane.”
“Hmmm?” We swayed in time with the slow song the band played.
I closed my eyes. “I just can’t figure out why people aren’t remembering what happened when they were robbed. It’s like they black out. I know I did. And now, two people are dead.”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. But I still wish you’d leave things to Bruce.”
“You promised to help.” And Bruce’s ego-swaggering, little-man syndrome, didn’t instill a lot of confidence in me.
“And I will.” His chin rested on my head.
A shriek of metal against metal rang from the driveway. Duane grabbed my hand and dragged me with him. I fought with my billowing dress, trying, without success, not to flash my assets. Someone gave a wolf whistle and my face could’ve set the barbecue on fire. I felt a definite summer breeze in places meant to be covered.
Duane stopped at the edge of the yard sudden enough I rammed into him from the back. I lifted a hand to my throbbing nose.
“Uh-oh.”
I glanced at Duane. “Uh-oh, what?” Stepping around him, I cringed. Melvin sat on top of his lawnmower which sat flush against my Prius. What had he done? I dashed across the gravel driveway, trying not to fall on ankles that wobbled in high heels. “Melvin Brown. Look what you’ve done!”
The odor of liquor slapped me in the face, and I staggered back. “You’ve been drinking.”
He shook his head. “Only a drop.” His chin fell forward and sobs wracked his body.
Uh. I glanced to Duane for help. He nodded and moved forward.
By this time, most of the guests gathered around us, lemonade or soda in one hand, plates piled with food in the other. Our town sure could draw a crowd anytime there was food, music, or disaster. If a person could sell tickets, they would make a fortune.
Duane clapped a hand on Melvin’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
Melvin shook his head, still unable to speak. I’d never seen the man so distraught. Disgruntled, yes. Grouchy, definitely. But like his world had ended? Never.
“Can we call someone for you?” Duane peered into the man’s red face.
“I need to speak with Bruce. Someone said he was here.”
“Are you hurt?”
Melvin wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his stained tee shirt. “When I was over here mowing, someone broke into my house and took all the money I’ve been saving to start my own business.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Melvin had been mowing at my house when he was robbed, which meant he’d been awake, figuratively speaking. That seemed to throw my theory of the thief drugging people out the window. If I had a clear theory, that is. This case was murkier than a stirred up river bottom.
“Break it up.” Bruce strolled up, his chest puffed out like a rooster. “Let the police do their job. I’ll handle this.” He whipped out a notepad and pencil from his pocket. “Start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”
Melvin sniffled.
“After you stop crying.” Br
uce rolled his eyes and shook his head. Obviously the little monkey thought it unmanly for Melvin to shed tears over the theft of months of hard work.
Repentance shot through me. Mom would be scandalized to know I harbored uncharitable thoughts about someone. But Bruce could be a regular thorn in someone’s side. “Be nice.” I scowled. “He’s lost his life savings.”
“So he says. That’s what I’m here to find out.” Bruce’s look clearly told me to stay out of it; which made me more determined to stick around.
Duane put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. Most likely to hold me in check, rather than a sign of affection.
Melvin took a deep shuddering breath. “Like. . .I said. I. . .mowed the Calloway’s yard. The grass was real long so it took about an hour.”
Mom gave me a look. Mowing was usually my job, but between work and clearing Lindsey’s name, I hadn’t found the time.
“When I got home, I noticed my back door was open. You got to yank on it to get it to latch, and I’m real careful about locking up when I leave. So, I pushed it open real slow like.” He speared Bruce with a glance. “Could’ve been killed on my doorstep by a deranged murderer for all the protection we get in this town. Anyway, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary … at first.”
Melvin wiped his eye with the back of his hand. “But when I went to hang up my coat, I saw the shoe box I’d been keeping my money in was moved about an inch. I opened it and. . .it was empty.” Sobs retook control of his body. “Gone. All of it. I had close to a thousand dollars.”
How did someone know where Melvin hid his money? A shoebox in the coat closet wasn’t a common stashing place, was it? “Melvin, how many people knew that shoebox was in your closet?”
Bruce glared at me. “I’m handling this, Marsha.”
“I think I told Kyle, but he can’t pass the information on. He’s dead.”
Thanks for the reminder. I shuddered. Someone told somebody. Kyle could’ve before he died. If he did, it wasn’t his sister. She still languished in the town’s one jail cell.
Deadly Neighbors (A River Valley Mystery) Page 15