Jazzed

by Donna Kelly

  A loud groan filtered through the shop as Alice discovered more leaks. “I don’t see how she can unless a band of elves magically cleans up all this for her. I wouldn’t even know where to start!”

  Mary Beth began ringing up Annie’s purchase. “Alice is right. There’s no way to handle this and prepare for the trip.” She placed the yarn in a bag. “Hmm, would you two be interested in going in my place? Kate is going too. You can have a girls’ weekend in the city and bring back ideas for the shop and the club.”

  Annie and Alice exchanged meaningful looks as Mary Beth scanned Annie’s debit card. “Can you say ‘road trip’?” Alice rubbed her hands together in anticipation, her bracelets jingling.

  Annie’s left elbow connected with Alice’s right side. “Can we let you know in a day or two? I need to see if I can reschedule a few things.” She took the card back from Mary Beth. “But the conference sounds fun.”

  Mary Beth handed the yarn-filled bag over the counter. “Sure thing. Is it all right if I tell Kate she might have company in New York? Right now she is concerned about hitting the Big Apple alone.”

  “Absolutely. I hope it works out for us to pinch-hit for you.” Annie moved toward the door. “Good luck with the water cleanup!”

  Minutes later, Annie and Alice were settled in Annie’s car, listening to classic rock music and discussing the possibility of a trip to New York as they drove to Petersgrove.

  Alice turned down the music. “Annie, we have to go to New York. It’s our opportunity to find The Avant-Garde! We might be able to find out the identity of the mystery singer and her connection with your grandparents. Just what do you have to do that is so important?”

  The wind whipped around the car, and Annie steadied the steering wheel. “Nothing too dire. I just wanted to make sure Mary Beth was thinking it through and not just reacting to the emergency. We didn’t really have time to explain about the singer and the photo negatives. And keep in mind, Master Sleuth Woman, that if we decide to attend the conference, we’re doing it to help Mary Beth, not to go off on our own little adventures. The conference will come first.”

  Alice sighed. “You always were the responsible one.”

  “Well, someone had to be!” Annie laughed, enjoying the lighthearted moment.

  The ride passed quickly as the two friends swapped memories and banter. They were surprised when the quaint wooden “Welcome to Petersgrove” sign appeared. Ernst Michaels’s home, a charming beige cottage with blue-gray shutters and surrounded by a white picket fence, was located on the far edge of the small town.

  “This is it,” said Alice, double-checking the house number on the directions. “He must be married. This is way too cute to be the abode of a jaded photojournalist.”

  Laughing, Annie reached to the passenger-side floorboard for the canvas bag resting against Alice’s legs and removed the small envelope containing the photo negatives and a larger one with the two portraits. “Here we go! I sure hope he can help us. He said his studio is at the back of the house.”

  Annie knocked on the studio door with anticipation, a welcome change to her volatile emotions of the last couple of weeks. Although she had no preconceived notions of what a photojournalist might look like, she was surprised when the door opened to reveal a thin greyhound of a man wearing faded blue jeans and clogs, his balding salt-and-pepper hair trimmed close to his head.

  “You must be Annie Dawson.” He opened the door for them to enter. “Ernst Michaels.” He grasped Annie’s hand in a firm handshake before turning to Alice. “And you are?”

  Alice held out her hand. “Alice MacFarlane, sidekick sleuth.”

  Mr. Michaels grinned. “I see. I must admit I’m intrigued. Being somewhat of a music-history buff myself, I’m anxious to see what you have here.”

  Annie handed him the envelope with the film negatives. “We are too. Thank you for seeing us so quickly.”

  Crossing the room to a long work counter, Mr. Michaels switched on a lighted slide viewer and placed a strip of negatives on it. “These are in pretty good shape, especially for being in an attic for decades. I can get some pretty good prints from them.”

  Alice stepped closer to see the images on the viewer and squinted. “How on earth can you tell?”

  Mr. Michaels’s laughter was deep and melodic. “Decades of working with film. Not many of us do that anymore.”

  “You’re telling me.” Annie leaned over to see the negatives. “Oh, I nearly forgot the reason I contacted you in the first place!” She took the two portraits from their envelope and handed them to the photographer. “These are the portraits I’d like reprinted. If printing from the negatives works best, that’s fine with me, but I thought I’d leave these in case the others don’t process well.”

  He studied the portraits a minute. “I’ll try to work with the negatives first. The printed portraits have faded over the years. If necessary, I can scan them and do touch-ups digitally. I’ll call you when they’re ready. It should only take a couple of days. You caught me during a slow week.”

  Taking one last peek at the negatives, Annie lifted both her purse and canvas bag to her shoulder and held out her right hand. “That works for me. Thank you so much.”

  ****

  Ernst Michaels stood at the door and watched the two women walk the path from his studio toward their car. When they disappeared into the front yard, he returned to the viewer and studied the images. Was his imagination playing tricks on him? He blinked his eyes and looked more closely. “You’ve got to be kidding me—it can’t be!”

  After several long minutes, the photojournalist pulled his cellphone from its holster and quickly dialed. “It’s Ernst. You’re not going to believe what I’m looking at right now!”

  9

  Annie and Alice stepped out of the church into breezy sunshine and a group of folks milling around, discussing Reverend Wallace’s sermon and news from the week.

  “You look great, Annie! Better than I’ve seen in days.” Alice put her lips to Annie’s ear. “Having a mystery to solve agrees with you!”

  Before Annie could reply, her cellphone vibrated in her purse. “Hello? Yes, this is Annie. Yes. I can be there in about an hour. Thank you. I’ll see you then. Bye!”

  “Was that Mr. Michaels?” Alice moved closer again. “Any news?”

  Annie nodded. “The prints are done. He sounded really excited. Ready for a return trip to the big metropolis of Petersgrove?”

  Ian approached before Alice could reply. “Heading out for a drive, are you?”

  Seeing Ian, Annie’s stomach churned as her heart swelled. “Yes, we’re going to pick up the prints for the portraits.”

  Looking at her watch, Alice sighed. “I just remembered I need to contact clients to reschedule my Thursday and Friday Divine Décor and Princessa jewelry parties to clear the way for our New York trip.”

  Ian glanced from Alice to Annie. “New York?”

  “Ian, why don’t you go to Petersgrove with Annie, and she can tell you all about the trip and her new mystery.” Alice grinned, her eyes shining in triumph. “Then I won’t feel so guilty about bailing out on her. Besides, you always enjoy helping out with Annie’s mysteries.”

  Annie tried to read Ian’s expression. Did he really want to go? And was she ready to be alone with him again? “I’d love for you to fill in for Alice, if you have time.” She tried to control her breathing. Was that a sparkle in his eye?

  Taking his cellphone from its holder, Ian punched several numbers. “No messages. I’m clear for the afternoon if you’d like some company. I’ll drive if you like, and you can leave your car at Grey Gables.”

  Pulling car keys from her purse, Alice prepared to leave. “I’d best get going now. Please call me when you get the photos, OK?” She gave Annie a quick hug and almost danced down the sidewalk.

  ****

  “So, tell me about this trip to New York.” Ian kept his eyes on the road to Petersgrove as he passed a logging truck.

/>   Annie recounted her last visit to A Stitch in Time, the flooded building, and Mary Beth’s request that Alice and Annie accompany Kate to the fiber arts convention in her place.

  “I’ve never been to New York City, although I’ve been to a number of other big cities like Dallas, Detroit, and Atlanta. I was never interested in visiting New York until last week, when I came across some old photos of Grandpa taken there after he returned from World War II. Now I feel some sort of a connection.” Annie studied the angle of Ian’s jawline. His strong good looks were difficult to ignore.

  Ian glanced at her before returning his eyes to the road. “Everyone should experience New York City at least once in their lives. It has creative electricity not found anywhere else. The city was good to me after Arianna died. Its vibrancy helped me heal.”

  Unsure of how to respond to his reference to his late wife, Annie fell silent for a few minutes and watched the scenery change from farmland to woodland. “Well, there’s another reason for me to go to New York.”

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the mystery Alice mentioned, would it?”

  Was that amusement in his voice? Annie giggled. “As a matter of fact, it does.” She explained her discovery of the mystery singer’s image behind her grandparents’ portraits and elicited laughter from Ian with her humorous description of Alice’s adventure among the cobwebs in the crawl space.

  “I would have paid good money to see that,” he said, chuckling. “So, what was in the tin box she found?”

  He listened quietly as Annie told him about the photo negatives of musicians, the matchbook cover, and the excitement in the photographer’s voice during the phone call earlier. “Annie, I haven’t been to the Big Apple for several years, but The Avant-Garde was still open when I was there. I don’t remember the address, but I did see a couple of shows at the club. It has a long history of drawing in jazz greats to perform.”

  Annie caught her breath. “It’s still there? Really?”

  Ian reached across the car and put his hand on hers. “Annie, you have to go to the conference. It’s the perfect opportunity to learn more about the club and maybe learn the identity of the mystery singer, not to mention that you will be helping out Mary Beth.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I see the logic in that, but what will I do about Boots? I can’t just leave her.”

  Ian thought a minute. “How about Breck? He’s demonstrated an ability to accept responsibility at the diner. He’s doing some serving now as well as busing tables. And he likes you. I bet he’d do it.”

  Annie thought of the lanky, long-haired high school dropout who had recently returned to night school to earn his diploma. He’d really come out of his shell since taking the busboy job at The Cup & Saucer. Peggy talked like he might soon be promoted to server. “That’s an idea! He’s such a great kid, and he’s come so far. I’ll stop by the diner tomorrow and see if he would take care of Boots for me.”

  By the time Ian pulled in front of Ernst Michaels’s home and studio, Annie had decided to take the trip to New York City. “Let’s hope Mr. Michaels has some answers for us.”

  Filled with anticipation, Annie knocked on the studio door. After Annie introduced the two men, Mr. Michaels quickly led his visitors inside and motioned them to his work table. A series of black-and-white photos of various jazz musicians in a smoke-filled, haunting nightclub spread from one end to the other.

  Ian let out a long, low whistle. “Look at this—there’s everyone from Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington to Stan Getz and Artie Shaw.”

  Annie’s eyes went straight to a stunning blonde with fingers curved around an old-fashioned microphone as tendrils of cigarette smoke curled around her. Speechless, Annie looked at Mr. Michaels, who was obviously enjoying their reactions to the photographs.

  “You are looking at photographs by one of the best photojournalists of all time, the award-winning Leo Harmon. The few photos this artistic genius took during the Jazz Era in New York City are iconic and included in everything from textbooks to coffee-table books as well as private art and museum collections all over the world.” Mr. Michaels looked like a little kid surveying his new toys on Christmas morning. “You, Annie Dawson, have solved one of photography’s oldest mysteries: What happened to Harmon’s lost jazz negatives?”

  Annie kept looking at the blond singer. “We may have solved one mystery, but we sure do have a lot more questions. How did Leo Harmon’s negatives get in my attic? Who is the blonde, an unknown among all the jazz greats? And why were the negatives of her photos behind my grandparents’ portrait?”

  Michaels gathered up the photos and divided them into several brown-paper sleeves. “I don’t know. But you’ll want to keep the negatives in a safe or a safety deposit box at your bank. They will be in demand once word gets out that you have them.” He handed her the paper sleeves and a smaller envelope containing the negatives.

  Michaels gestured to four 11 by 14-inch photos on his drafting table. He’d restored each of the two family portraits two ways—one as an enlarged traditional reprint and the other as a digital copy. “These appear to be Harmon’s too. But I never heard about him taking family portraits. His work was usually for newspapers or magazines.”

  He slid the portraits into a large brown sleeve. “I put the negatives in the envelope with the jazz series.” Michaels walked to his desk and returned with the New York–themed tin. “This is probably worth some money too.”

  Handing the photos and tin to Ian, Annie wrote a check for the retired photojournalist’s work. “Thank you so much, Mr. Michaels. You’ve been a big help.”

  Mr. Michaels shook Annie’s proffered hand. “Anytime. I’m glad you found me. Please let me know if you solve your mystery.”

  ****

  Annie and Ian walked onto the porch of Grey Gables hand in hand.

  “Thank you for putting the negatives in the safe at Town Hall until I can get to the bank.” Annie put her key in the front door. “Will you join me for a cup of tea?”

  Their eyes locked. Annie caught her breath and thought she would drown in his chocolate brown eyes before he answered.

  “Sure! I’ve not seen nearly enough of you lately.” Ian opened the door and stepped aside. “And you may keep the negatives in the safe as long as necessary.”

  Annie hung their coats on the rack. “Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll fix refreshments and will be right back.”

  She returned shortly with a tray bearing a full teapot, two mugs, and a small plate of cream cheese and pepper jelly surrounded by crackers. “Here we go, a bit of sustenance to end an exciting afternoon.” After filling each mug, she handed one to Ian, following his gaze to Reverend Wallace’s book.

  Ian cleared his throat and looked at her. “Annie, do you have reservations about our friendship?”

  Annie’s hand trembled as she grasped her mug. She chose her words with care. “I’ve been feeling guilty about my feelings for you. When you kissed me, I felt like I was cheating on Wayne. I never expected to have feelings for anyone else.” She reached out for the book. “Evidently, I’m pretty transparent. Reverend Wallace offered me this book to read. He also told me to talk to you.”

  “Well, I do understand what it is like to lose your soul mate. Moving on feels like infidelity, although it isn’t. It’s taken me time to understand this, but your Wayne and my Arianna would want us to find happiness again.” He tapped the book in Annie’s lap. “By the way, Reverend Wallace gave me this same book to read several years ago. A lot of wisdom can be found in those pages.”

  Boots wandered into the room, jumped onto the couch between them, and curled into a ball. Annie gently scratched under the cat’s chin with two fingers. “The book helps. So does Reverend Wallace’s guidance. Even Boots provides comfort. But I don’t understand the feelings I have right now, and I’m just not ready to define them.”

  Ian put his mug on the coffee table and looked into her eyes. “Annie, I won’t push you to defi
ne those feelings until you are ready. We have no reason to rush into anything.”

  Relieved but unsure of what to say next, Annie spread a bit of cream cheese on a cracker and put it in her mouth. By the time she swallowed the bite, her composure was regained. “Thank you.”

  Reverting to their normal banter, they finished their tea and crackers. By the time Annie walked Ian to the door, she had promised him she would accompany Alice and Kate to New York and share her mystery with the Hook and Needle Club on Tuesday. “Thank you for today,” Annie said as she turned the doorknob.

  Ian bent down and kissed Annie’s cheek. “Thank you for including me. And I’m glad we had a chance to talk. Good night.”

  “Good night.” Annie stood at the door and watched Ian turn and walk across the porch. “Ian.” Annie’s heart skipped when he turned around, a questioning expression on his face. She closed the distance between them and tiptoed to lightly press her lips to his. “Thank you for being patient.”

  Without waiting for a response, she turned and went inside the house.

  10

  Annie stepped inside A Stitch in Time, and her jaw dropped. The shop looked better than it had a few days ago—the water puddles were gone and fewer boxes were stacked in the middle of the floor—but buckets remained in several strategic spots in the event of more rainfall before the roof was repaired. A musty smell filled the shop. Mary Beth obviously had a long way to go before the shop was back to normal.

  “Oh, Mary Beth. We should’ve cancelled the meeting. I had no idea the shop was in this condition.”

  The shopkeeper maneuvered around a short stack of boxes as she waved. “I considered it. But Kate convinced me that seeing my friends would relieve my stress a bit and force me to take a break from the mess.”

  Alice emerged from between lines of shelves carrying a load of boxes and put them down near the cash register. “Hi, you! I came early to help Mary Beth clear a space to work.” She turned to her friend. “I know it must seem like a losing battle, Mary Beth, but I think Annie has some news that might cheer you up.”