Suzanne reappeared a few minutes later, her face freshly scrubbed and lipstick adding color to her pale skin. She handed me a mug of coffee. “I’ll be back with bowls for the fruit.” She saw the photograph in my hand. “It’s the only picture I have of Magda.”
“It’s lovely.”
“Peppi was taking pictures of the cast members, and I asked if I could have a copy.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she grabbed for the tissue box. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry.” She tugged the last tissue out of the box. “Where did I put the other box of—”
“Oh, Suzanne.” I put my arms around her. It felt as natural as hugging a child with a wounded knee. “I’m so sorry.”
My friend relaxed and hugged me back, then let me go. “Let’s eat some of that delicious fruit you brought, shall we?” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with bowls, forks, and napkins. We sat on her sofa.
“Are you looking into Magda’s death?” Suzanne eyed me over her steaming coffee.
“Surely, the police—”
“Don’t be coy with me. I remember how you went after Penn’s killer last year. Please tell me you’re on the trail of Magda’s murderer. It would mean a lot to me.”
“I do think that her death must be connected to Vic Spencer’s. You know, the janitor who was murdered at my store?”
“Why?” Suzanne answered her own question. “Because of the pearls?”
“That and other things. And as usual, Reiner seems to be focusing on the wrong people.”
“Like me, I suppose.” Suzanne laughed at my expression. “Of course I’m a suspect. I’m the unexpected daughter who shows up in time to get a share of the fortune. The chief has been around.”
“I don’t suppose you have. . .an alibi? For the time of the murder?”
Suzanne laughed out loud. “I wish I did. I was down in Oklahoma City looking at kitchen supplies. I gave them my credit card receipt. I hope that clears me.” Laughter turned to a frown. “I forgot the tissues.”
I dug a packet from my purse and handed them to her.
She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “Something has, rather had, been bothering Magda recently. She knew gossip about our relationship would catch up with us eventually, and she wanted to make a preemptive strike. But I don’t think that was it.”
So something else had been on Magda’s mind. Did Elsie/Jerry know about it? “Do you have any idea what it was?”
“Not really. She mentioned paying for past sins. I asked her about it, but she said not to worry, it had nothing to do with me.” Suzanne shrugged. “I bet the blackmailer knows. You know, the one who keeps sending those e-mails.”
Find the blackmailer, find the murderer. The theme returned, turning logic on its head. It would make more sense for the victim to murder the blackmailer and not the other way around. Wait. Could Magda have been the blackmailer? No. I dismissed the thought as ridiculous.
I stayed with Suzanne for another hour and left before supper became an issue. I wanted to pop into the theater to check on Audie’s progress and to put away Magda’s costumes.
Audie had left the MGM by the time I arrived. Where had he gone this time? He could have at least left me a note or phone message. I went straight to work on the costumes. Each cast member kept their accessories, scripts, and other personal items in a cubbyhole, but sometimes they left their costumes there, as well.
Audie wanted a ’30s feel to the play, and he turned to me for advice. I gave Uncle Teddy a suit coat with patched elbows and designed hand-sewn cotton dresses with wide collars for the Brewster sisters. The neckline on Elaine Harper’s dress dropped to a fashionably daring low; Peppi’s dress, with the gathered waist and slim hips, emphasized her slender figure. Magda was almost as slender as the twenty-something actress; I added padding to give her a matronly look. Whoever took her place would need a new dress. If someone took her place. If the play was produced as expected.
I blinked back tears as I put the dress that Magda would never use into a garment bag and hung it on the clothing rack. I noticed the clutch purse on the floor that Peppi carried in her scenes. Really, she could be careless. Out of habit I picked it up and carried it to her cubbyhole.
When I put the purse away, I saw a glimmer. A single, shining pearl, perfectly oval in shape, fell from the cubby and rolled around on the floor.
I stared at it. It can’t be. Was it the real thing? For a second I debated the legality of touching the object. Why not? I found it in the theater, where no crime had taken place. Any connection with the murders was pure conjecture.
I picked up the shining oval and held it to the light. I recognized the luster, the opaque color, the precisely matched size. I would stake my professional integrity on this being one of the pearls from Magda’s necklace—pearls I had last seen scattered around the floor in Magda’s kitchen.
How did it get here? Did Peppi pick up one to keep? How? The police had arrived minutes after we made the 911 call and bagged all the pearls as evidence.
I scrambled to think of an explanation for the presence of a pearl in Peppi’s cubby and could think of none. Peppi seldom wore jewelry. The hair on my arms stood on end. I didn’t like the direction of my thoughts. I could be wrong. Perhaps Peppi had lost a pearl earring. Perhaps someone else had dropped it.
I knew one way to confirm the pearl wasn’t from Magda’s necklace. I dialed the police station and asked to speak to Officer Waller.
“Yes?” Frances sounded frazzled. Two murders in a single week could do that to a police officer, I supposed.
“I’ve got a question.” If she refused to answer, I didn’t know how else to get the information I needed. “How many pearls did you retrieve from Magda’s kitchen?”
“Why do you need to know? You won’t be getting them back this time, at least not until after the trial.”
I didn’t want them back. I could never again handle them with pleasure. “It’s for insurance purposes.” I wasn’t exactly lying; I did need to file a claim.
“Okay. Give me a minute.” I heard fingers clicking on a keyboard. “Evidence log says we retrieved 29 pearls.”
“Okay, thanks.” My desire to protect Audie and the theater warred with my conscience. The pearl I held in my hand was solid evidence, not conjecture. “Um, Frances?”
“What else?”
“I found another pearl here at the theater. I’m pretty sure it’s from Magda’s necklace.”
“Are you sure? How do you know?”
“There were thirty pearls on the necklace. I counted them when I had it appraised. And I studied them, you know? It just looks right.”
“Where did you find it? Never mind. I’ll come right over.”
I heard the buzz of the phone in my ear. I didn’t have scientific evidence, but I knew it was the missing pearl. But what was it doing in Peppi’s cubby? Had it been planted? Or had Peppi left it there?
Start with the obvious. I had raced past Peppi’s name as a possible suspect when I listed cast members a few days ago. I dug out the list and studied the notes on her page. I hadn’t followed up on any of my questions about her, like whether or not she knew Suzanne or Audie back in Chicago, or whether she was connected to the miserable Mrs. Lambert at the nursing home.
I tapped the end of my pen on my teeth and added more notes and questions. Pearl belonging to Magda’s necklace found in cubbyhole. What is the relationship between Magda, the pearls, and the Lamberts, if any?
What was it that Mrs. Lambert had said when she saw me wearing Magda’s pearls? Something about the pearls belonging to her and her son giving them to a harlot? Even knowing that Magda had given birth to an illegitimate child, I couldn’t imagine describing her as a harlot. But maybe someone who knew her in her wild youth might. Who could I ask? The people who knew her best, like the mayor, would never answer a question like that. How could I learn the history of Magda’s pearls?
I found a blank page and wrote “pearl found in Peppi’s cubicle” at th
e top of the page. Of course, someone else connected to the theater could have planted it there. I flipped back through the previous pages. Unless I wanted to include everyone in Grace Gulch, because we all had some kind of connection to Magda, the same pool of suspects applied. They all had access to the theater.
I went through the familiar names in light of my discovery. Audie. As with the threatening emails, he had the best opportunity to plant something in Peppi’s cubby. I couldn’t imagine any connection between Audie and the pearls; however, the police would.
I ran my fingers over Magda’s page and tapped the note at the bottom. “Murdered” was written in dark letters, circled, and underlined.
Suzanne Jay. Did the pearls have any connection with the illicit romance that resulted in her birth?
Lauren Packer. Was he scamming Magda? Locating high-priced goods for Spencer to steal, including the pearls? Did she threaten him? Could he have tried to substitute paste jewelry for the real thing? I shook my head. If so, he failed. The necklace in my keeping was the real thing.
I wanted to skip the pages for the mayor, Cord, and Gene. Why would they kill her? They were Magda’s closest relatives, which put them under the microscope. Okay, perhaps the necklace was related to some family secret; perhaps they didn’t like Magda’s decision to give away a family heirloom. They might know about the history of the jewelry, some unknown fact that would point to a motive. I thought of Gene’s injured finger. Could I learn when he had it set?
As props person for the theater, Dina had handled the pearls. History repeated itself because last fall, she had also handled the murder weapon that shot Penn Hardy. In fact, she was the only person, besides me, that I knew had touched them. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I hoped that the police wouldn’t focus on her as a suspect.
Next up were Peppi and the mysterious Mrs. Lambert who accused “that harlot” of taking the pearls. How could I interrogate a senile old woman? For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single reason why Peppi would want to kill either Vic Spencer or Magda Grace Mallory.
The last name on my list was Frances Waller. I knew of no connection between her and the pearls. I didn’t really think the police officer was a murderer.
The only solid clue I had was the pearl in Peppi’s cubbyhole, which anyone could have dropped there.
Back to square one.
22
From: Cici Wilde (Cici’[email protected])
Date: Thursday, May 1, 9:17 AM
To: Audwin Howe ([email protected])
Subject: Secrets?
Audie. . .we need to have a serious talk. When I called your cell phone, I got a message that said you were “out of area.”
Where do you keep disappearing to? Remember the pastor’s words.
Call me tomorrow.
Thursday, May 1
I set my notes aside when Frances arrived, but pulled them out again at home. This time I prioritized my suspects.
I discounted most of them. Audie and Suzanne had alibis for one of the murders. Cord had only limited opportunity and no known motive. Dina, Frances? They didn’t make sense.
That left Gene and Lauren. They both had strong apparent motives for murdering Magda. I debated about Peppi. I found the pearl in her cubby, but someone could have planted it there. What motive did she have to harm Magda or Spencer? Still, I included her among the strong suspects in the murders. I would focus my questions on those three.
Ideas for pursuing answers played around in my head as I sorted through my closet for what to wear tomorrow. A black-and-white flowered rayon Rockabilly dress—perfect. Before I changed into my nightgown, I heard a sharp rap at the door. Who on earth?
I opened the door, and Audie immediately gathered me in his arms. “I’ve missed you.” He kissed me as if a week had passed since he had seen me, instead of a single day. “I’m sorry I missed your call.”
“I went to the theater tonight,” I told him. “I thought you might be there?” I made it into a question.
“I couldn’t settle down to work, so I took a drive to clear my head.”
I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to conduct an argument on my front porch. “Come on in.”
“Maybe, for a few minutes.”
He followed me into the silent living room. I flicked the radio on low volume, as was my habit.
“Would you like some tea? Coffee?” I headed toward the kitchen, anticipating his answer.
“No, thanks. Can you close your store tomorrow?”
That stopped me in mid-stride. “Close the store? I just reopened. Why?”
“I want to show you something.” Audie smiled, but the cloudy blue of his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. “It will only take a few hours. Like you said, we need to talk.”
Two different ideas flew into my head at the same time. Was Audie ready to tell me his “good” secret? In that case, I couldn’t refuse. Also, I needed time away from the store to continue my investigation.
“Of course. I’ll ask Dina to cover for me while I’m gone.” This semester she had several online classes and never minded coming in when I needed her. “Can we go in the morning?”
Relief at my answer turned Audie’s eyes back to a clear twilight blue, stars sparkling in his eyes. “Yes,” he said and he kissed me good night.
I went through my bedtime routine with a happier mood than the last several evenings. I reconsidered the next day’s outfit in light of my new plans. Everyone in Grace Gulch knew my penchant for wearing everything from half bustles to polyester, but the rockabilly outfit might look outlandish once we left town. I decided on a black dress, always timeless, even if this one had square shoulders, belted waist, and a military cut that had ’40s stamped all over it. Magda’s pearls would have been the perfect accessory for this dress. I put my head in my hands and allowed myself a quiet sob over my friend’s death. Oh, Lord, I want to bring her murderer to justice. Help me.
~
I awoke earlier than usual and studied my notes. In case the opportunity to ask questions arose today, I wanted to prepare. After a little thought, I logged into the MGM web site where we had posted publicity photos in happier days. I printed them out and tucked them in my purse.
Audie, dressed in blue jeans and a denim shirt that made his eyes shine, picked me up at my house at eight. His casual attire told me a little about our destination; we weren’t headed anywhere stuffy, like an office.
He whistled. “Don’t you look good, soldier girl.”
I saluted him smartly, and he laughed. “Do you want to stop by Gaynor Goodies before we leave?”
I agreed, and we exchanged banter on the way to the store. I felt more light-hearted than I had in days. The prospect of spending a morning with Audie did that for me. We were laughing as we walked into the bakery.
Jessie, dressed today in a peacock blue uniform with pinstripe apron, raised an eyebrow when she saw us enter together. “The happy couple. I don’t often see you together. Busy with wedding plans today?”
I couldn’t answer if I wanted to because I didn’t know our destination. But that wouldn’t stop Jessie from spreading a story about honeymoon plans or some such thing by day’s end. I bought cookies to drop off with Dina, and one bran muffin and a large cup of regular coffee for myself. I indulge in the leaded version in the mornings. Audie bought a bagel swimming in cream cheese. After a brief stop by my store, we headed down the turnoff that would take us to Route 66.
“Do you mind if we stop at any pawnshops we run across between here and wherever we’re going?” I wouldn’t give Audie the satisfaction of asking him for details about our secret destination. I would let him surprise me. I fished the cast photographs out of my purse. “They might have seen Spencer or his accomplice selling the stolen items.”
“Can’t get you away from your murder inquiries, can I?” Audie grumbled, but he smiled. “Have at it, my dear Miss Marple.” He glanced at me, and his eyes lit with pleasure. “Although looking like that, p
erhaps I should call you Mrs. North.”
“Why, Mr. North, we’re not even married yet.” Secretly I was pleased.
Ahead of us, a trio of neon signs flashed on and off. Pa ’n hop—the same stores I had visited last week with Dina and Peppi. No one recognized anyone in our photographs.
“Don’t worry,” Audie said. “I’m sure the thief went farther afield. We’ll stop at more places along the way. Unless you’re in a hurry to get back?”
“Dina can stay as long as I need her today.”
We stopped one more time before we hit Route 66, and Audie wandered off the highway a couple of times to locate pawnshops. Again, none of the clerks could identify anyone in the pictures. My hopes flagged.
We hit pay dirt in Arcadia, at a pawnshop within sight of the red roof of the town’s famous round barn. This particular establishment had some nice jewelry for sale, unlike the other stores, which sold mostly junk.
I showed my pictures to the clerk, a beefy, muscled guy who looked like he would be more comfortable on the back of a bucking bronco than behind a counter. “Do you know if you’ve dealt with these people any time in the last six months or so? They told me about some earrings I would like to wear at my wedding.”
He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. He must hear a dozen hard luck stories a week. People didn’t sell good pieces like the hypothetical earrings I had mentioned for fun. I doubted that he cared about their reasons. He barely glanced at the pictures and shook his head. “Nope.”
Audie stepped in. “Bob.” He glimpsed the man’s left hand where he wore a wedding band, then he looked him in the eye with all his actor’s sincere ability. “You’re married, aren’t you?”
“Yessiree!” Bob the bronco buster transformed into a good ole boy. “Me and Missy got hitched at Christmas.”
“And you remember how Missy wanted everything perfect for the wedding, don’t you?”
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders Page 16