by Lucy Ness
Brittany bobbed her head. “She started to demand I meet with her just when she knew Bill and I were going to take our lunch hours. Just so we couldn’t get together.”
“Then one evening, I walked out of Brittany’s place and there was Muriel.” Like he still couldn’t believe it, Bill slapped his hand against his thigh. “She was standing on the sidewalk outside of Brittany’s place. And she didn’t say a word. Her face just got all chalky like. And her eyes looked like they were burning up with fire. Then she turned and stomped away; but after that night, working here was impossible for Brittany.”
“Things just got worse and worse,” Brittany said. “Everything I did was wrong. Everything I said, she second-guessed. That’s when I quit.”
“And even then, she didn’t let up on me,” Bill told me. “I figured the best thing to do was just talk to the woman, to explain I wasn’t interested. But whew!” He whistled low under his breath. “That woman did not tolerate not being in charge. Of everyone and everything. After that, I tried to ignore her, but that didn’t work, either. She finally came right out and told me that if I didn’t agree to meet her at a motel up there near the highway, things were going to get really ugly here for me. She was going to let the club members know that I’d served some time. She was going to start a campaign to get them to band together and force me out. And I . . .” His chin came up, his mouth thinned with determination. “I told her to go right ahead. That I didn’t have anything to hide. That I’d turned my life around, I wasn’t the same person I was years ago, and I was proud of myself for it. That’s when she made up the story about me stealing from the club.” His shoulders rose and fell. “That’s when she fired me.”
I hadn’t known Muriel for long, but long enough to realize it was not only possible but plausible.
“I’m sorry it ever happened,” I said. “Sorry for both of you.” I took Brittany in with a look. “No one should have to put up with that kind of treatment. Bill, there’s only one way I can think of to make it right.”
“It wasn’t me killing Muriel,” Bill was quick to put in. “I swear to you, Avery, there’s no way I did that. Even though . . .” He chewed his lower lip before he reached into his pocket.
Blushing, he pulled out a key and dropped it in my hand and at the same time he said, “Brittany’s key for the front door,” Brittany jumped back and gasped.
“You . . .” She pointed a trembling finger in Bill’s direction. “Avery asked about the key, and I told her I had no idea what happened to it because I didn’t. And all this time—”
“I’m sorry, Brit.” When she made to pull her hand away, he held on tighter. “I would have told you eventually. I just thought, well, I don’t know what I thought,” he admitted. “I suppose it was a harebrained plan from the start. I wanted to get back into the club, to look for that stuff Muriel said I took. I didn’t know how many people she’d told about me stealing things, but I figured that if I proved those things she said I took were still here, that would show everyone I’m not a thief. But I swear, Avery . . .” He spun in his seat to look at me head on. “I never used that key. I was trying to get up the courage, waiting for some night you were out so I didn’t frighten you. I figured I’d come and have a look around. I had to prove that I’ve changed my ways, that I was innocent.”
“You’ve already done that,” I assured him. “And now you can do something else for me.”
“Anything,” Bill said. “I need you to know how grateful I am that you had faith in me.”
I gave him a careful look. “Lawn?”
The look Bill gave me in return was blank.
“Flower pots?” I added. I popped out of my seat and swept out an arm, taking in the building and the grounds. “Falling leaves? We’ve got an inauguration coming up and the Portage Path Women’s Club needs to look its best. And then there’s the thermostat on the grill in the kitchen.”
Maybe he was trying to sort out what I was getting at. He shook his head. “What are you saying, Avery?”
“I’m not saying anything. I’m asking. I know I’ll need the board’s approval, but something tells me that won’t be a problem. Bill, would you like your old job back?”
* * *
* * *
It was no more than a minute after Bill and Brittany left, hand in hand and smiling, that Clemmie popped up beside me. “That was real nice, what you did for him.”
“It was real nice of him not to sue the pants off of us for Muriel’s sexual harassment.”
“Sexual . . . ?” Clemmie’s top lip curled.
I promised I’d explain all about it later, but for now, we had other things to do. With Bill taking care of the grounds, I could concentrate on two things—my plan to keep an eye on Patricia the next day and the preparations that were needed to get ready for the inauguration.
“What do you think?” I asked Clemmie. “How can we jazz the place up?”
“Well . . .” She floated toward the stairway that led up to the third floor. “I was looking around this morning. There are some things in the attic that are really the berries!”
She was right. The attic was accessed by a stairway just down the hallway from the room Clemmie had staked out as her own, and it was packed with furniture, trunks, and knickknacks. We spent a couple of hours sorting through it all, and I found a painting of the lilac bushes outside the summerhouse that I promised myself I’d get restored and rehung in the Lilac Lounge once Jack was done in there. I also discovered a whole trunk of old hats. There were picture hats and cloches, hats a woman would wear to tea, and fancier headdresses for formal affairs. They’d make a wonderful display in the glass-fronted case in the Carnation Room, and would be a great way to connect our members with the house and history.
“And look here!” Clemmie called me over to the trunk she was bent over. “Must have belonged to that showcase Mrs. Dennison when she lived here.”
What she’d found was a dress similar to the one Clemmie wore and in remarkably good shape, too. I lifted it out of the trunk and held it at arm’s length. The fabric was black. The glass beads that covered the dress were black and gold. The dress was sleeveless, had a plunging neckline, and fringe below the drop waist that no doubt shimmied like a flapper doing the Charleston with every move its wearer made.
It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.
“Ooh!” Clemmie gushed. “If that ain’t the cat’s particulars. Attagirl! Go on!” With one slightly clammy elbow, she poked me in the ribs. “Try it on.”
“No.” It was far too old, the sort of precious thing that was meant to be kept behind glass. Besides . . . I sighed. “I’m pretty tall. It probably wouldn’t fit.”
“Bushwa!” She gave me a wink. “Tall means the dress will be short, and a short skirt means you can show off your gams. Besides, you don’t know from nothing until you try it on.”
Tempted, I fingered the fringe that dangled from the dress’s hem. “It’s too delicate,” I decided. “I wouldn’t want to damage it.”
“It’s lasted this long, ain’t it? What can it hurt?”
She was right. And I couldn’t resist. I slipped out of my jeans and T-shirt and into the dress.
Yeah, it was a little short. But other than that, it fit like it had been made for me.
Clemmie clapped her hands together. They didn’t make a sound. “Well, if you ain’t togged to the bricks!”
I guess that was a good thing because she smiled when she said it. Anxious to see how I looked, I kicked off my tennis shoes and went over to the cheval mirror on an oak stand in the corner of the attic, and right after I decided the mirror would be a great addition to my bedroom, I took a gander at myself.
“Perfect.” Clemmie hovered next to my shoulder. “You coulda been in the show with me down in the speakeasy. Only . . .” Checking me out, she wrinkled her nose. “You need more makeup.”
/> “I don’t. Not to work here in the club. I’m supposed to look understated. Professional.”
“Understated and professional ain’t never got a guy.”
“I’m not here to get a guy. I’m here to do my job. Besides, who says I want a guy?”
Clemmie’s lips thinned. “Who says the cute one with the shaggy hair is ever going to pay attention to you if you don’t make him sit up and take notice.”
“Jack?” I laughed, even though I couldn’t help but feel defensive. “For your information, he’s already asked me out to dinner.”
“Maybe, but he went to dinner with that other one. The pushy Jane with the screechy voice.”
“You mean Kendall.”
She bobbed her head. “Heard them talkin’. You know, from down in the furnace room. Those two are sounding awfully cozy.”
Of course I’d noticed. That didn’t mean I had to admit it.
Ignoring the comment, I turned to see how the back of the dress looked, just as Clemmie said, “And then there’s that copper, of course. Yeah, yeah.” I spun around to face her just as she held up a hand. “I know all about that, too. He wants to share a bottle of wine with you, right?” She tsked. “Nice, but it ain’t exactly a declaration of undying love.”
“I hardly know the man. I’m not looking for a declaration of undying love.”
“Of course you are.” She dismissed my opinion with a lift of one shoulder. “It’s what every dame wants. And it ain’t gonna happen with you lookin’ like a librarian.”
Did I?
I peered at myself in the mirror. I was a practical, sensible person and I wore practical, sensible clothes.
Except for right then and there. The flapper dress was over the top and when I compared it to the kinds of clothes I usually wore, I realized that most days I looked . . .
Dull.
The realization stung, and I wrinkled my nose and pursed my lips.
“All right,” I told Clemmie. “Let’s try some makeup.”
She followed me to my rooms. Truth is, I don’t own much makeup, but I dug around in my cosmetic case and found a shade of lipstick called Candy Apple, and Clemmie claimed it was close enough to the red she was wearing to be the “bee’s knees.” I touched a bit of the bright red color to my lips.
“Oh honey! Come on.” Clemmie made a face. “How are you ever going to attract a guy if you’re that much of a shrinking violet? Put a little oomph into it, why don’t you. Full lower lip.”
I did as I was told.
“Now a nice bow like mine”—she pointed—“on your top lip.” I did that, too.
Stunned by the image of the vamp that looked back at me, I studied myself in the mirror. “I look . . .”
“Have you always had blonde hair?”
The voice that came from the doorway surprised the heck out of me, and I shrieked and spun around.
Jack stood there, his mouth hanging open.
Hand pressed to heart, it took me a moment to recover. “Of course I’ve always had blonde hair.”
“But you look . . .” He blinked, sucked in a breath, blinked a little more. “You look so—”
“Different?” I thought I’d help him along.
“I was going to say amazing, but if you want to settle for different, I guess that counts, too.”
“Told you so!” I’d almost forgotten Clemmie was in the room. That is, until she floated out from behind Jack and hovered just above his left shoulder. The bow on her left shoe brushed his ear and Jack shivered. “You might have all the brains in the world, sister, but it takes more than that to make a guy tell you you’re amazing. You’re on your way!”
“I don’t need to be on my way,” I grumbled.
“What?” Jack asked.
I froze. Smiled. “I don’t need to be on my way. Not right now. But I was just thinking of all the things I need to do today.”
“Like solving that murder.” The comment came from Clemmie and I did my best to shush her with a look she totally ignored. From eight feet in the air, she looked down on Jack. “This potato might be able to help.”
“How?” I wondered. Yeah, out loud. Not a good move.
“How, what?” Jack asked.
“How are you doing down in Marigold?” Pretty quick recovery, huh? “Any idea how long it might be until you finish the project?”
“Well, actually, that’s why I was looking for you. I hope you don’t mind that I came up here. I looked all over the club, and I called out to you from the bottom of the stairway. You didn’t answer, but I knew you were up here somewhere. It sounded like you were . . .” He leaned forward, the better to look all around. “I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone.”
Clemmie grinned when I told Jack, “Just myself.”
“I do that, too.” He made it sound like we shared some terrible secret. “I find it’s often the best way to help sort through my thoughts.”
Before I even had a chance to answer, Clemmie piped in, “He’s got an in with that Sadler family.”
“How do you know?” I asked her.
“Well, because it helps me solve problems,” Jack asked. “For instance—”
“What about the problem of Muriel’s murder?” I blurted out. “What I mean . . .” If I expected help from Clemmie, I was disappointed. She hung there, suspended and gossamer, her eyes wide and her expression expectant. Like Jack, she was waiting to see where I was headed. Heck, so was I.
“I’ve been thinking about Tab Sadler,” I told Jack. “When I mention him to people, I get a few different reactions. Some people think he’s a great guy. Others tell me that he and Muriel didn’t get along. Somebody even mentioned that Muriel may have limited how much money he was getting. I just thought, well, you seem to know Kendall and I’m guessing that means you know the rest of the family, too. I just wondered what you thought of Tab.”
As if he wasn’t quite sure, he thought it over. “That stuff about the money, Kendall never mentioned it.”
“And of course she’d know. She is their granddaughter.”
“And she lives there. With Tab and Mu—” He blushed. “Well, just with her grandfather, now. She’s been staying with them until she can find a job and get herself established.”
I am reasonably certain that the eagerness in Clemmie’s eyes wasn’t what gave me the idea that popped into my head. “You and Kendall are friends. If you stopped over there this evening to visit her, no one would question it, would they?”
Studying me, Jack cocked his head. “You want to come along.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I’d just like to have a quick look around. Tab says he was home that night, but—”
“Do you have any reason not to believe him?”
When he put it that way—like any sane person would—it made it hard not to say, “Of course not.”
“But you want to make sure, anyway.”
I opted for the truth. “The board asked me to look into the murder. For the sake of the club.”
Jack was quiet for a minute, no doubt thinking of the best way to tell me to mind my own business. “It’s Monday,” he finally said. “Tab plays poker with his buddies on Mondays.”
“So he won’t be home. And Kendall?”
“She won’t mind if I stop by. Can you be ready by six?”
I assured him I would be and Jack backed out of the room. “You’re not going to wear—”
“This?” I fingered the fringe on the skirt of the beaded dress. “I promise to be more subtle.”
“It’s not that you don’t look . . . It’s just that . . .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Kendall would ask too many questions if you just show up. We’ll have to sneak you into the house . . . Fact is, I’m not used to subterfuge. If you’re dressed like that . . . I . . . I can’t a
fford to be distracted.”
I was still grinning when he left, but little by little, that smile faded. I had a lot to think about, a lot to plan. If I had one chance to look around Tab Sadler’s house, I needed to make the most of it.
Looking awfully pleased with herself, Clemmie floated to the floor. “Told you he’d pay attention.”
“I don’t need his attention. I just needed him to agree to take me to Tab’s tonight.”
She squealed a laugh. “You don’t think he would have done that if you were your regular, boring self, do you? You got a lot to learn, sister. A little cleavage goes a long, long way.”
CHAPTER 17
The Sadlers lived in a house that looked like it came straight out of a fairy tale.
A fairy tale about rich people.
The home was a Tudor behemoth complete with elaborate brickwork decorating the outside of the first story, and stucco and half-timbering adorning the second story. The windows were tall and narrow, and when we pulled down the tree-lined street the leaded glass winked at us in the last of the evening light. There was an arched doorway up front surrounded by gorgeous flower beds that even this late in the season, were in full bloom with orange chrysanthemums, purple asters, and dazzling golden black-eyed susans.
Jack didn’t park in front. “Get down,” he hissed at me as soon as we approached the house and he wheeled into the circular drive and stopped the car. I did as I was told, slouching down in my seat, half on and half off the floor.
“Any sign that Tab’s home?” Don’t ask me why I whispered. I guess this whole sneaking-into-someone’s-house thing had me a little unnerved.
“His car is gone,” Jack told me. He had to glance down to throw a nervous look in my direction. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
It was the same question he’d asked a dozen times on the way over to the ritzy part of town, and now, like then, I gave him the same answer. “You got any other ideas?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He steadied his shoulders. “I could excuse myself from Kendall for a while and take a look around myself. That way, I could see if there’s anything that makes Tab look suspicious.”