Death by a Whisker

by T. C. LoTempio

  I was just about to Google “poisons whose symptoms resemble anaphylaxis,” when my phone rang. I scrambled for it, hoping that it might be Maggie at last, but the caller ID came up Deer Park Inn. Puzzled, I pressed the answer button. “Hello?”

  “Ms. McCall? This is Savannah Blade.” The admin’s voice sounded a bit strained. I was willing to bet that Charlie Callahan had put her, as well as all the other CNC people, through the wringer. “I was just calling to find out if perhaps you might have found something of ours mixed in with your things.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. It’s Ulla’s necklace—the one she was wearing. She took it off when she was being photographed with that cat, and the clasp broke.”

  “I remember,” I said. “She tossed it into her tote bag.”

  “Yes, the police went through it, and it’s not there. I thought perhaps, since the tote was over near your things, it might have fallen out and gotten mixed in with the shelter supplies.” She paused and added, “The Glow people gave her that necklace. The charm is solid silver, and in the shape of a lip gloss tube. It’s quite unique.”

  “Well, we unpacked everything when we got back here, and I didn’t see the necklace. I can have Sissy go through everything again, though.”

  “Are you absolutely certain? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just … well, it’s quite a valuable piece.” She continued with a catch in her voice, “Ulla loved that necklace. She told me that if anything ever happened to her, I could have it. As a remembrance.”

  That remark surprised me. “I didn’t realize you were that close to Ulla,” I said.

  “I know. It surprised me too. I never expected to like her but … I do—did,” she amended. “Oh, she could be condescending, sure. But I learned a lot from just watching her. She was the Queen of Shopping, you know? She was tough as nails, but she had her Achilles’ heel too. For example, she was super nervous about coming back to Deer Park.”

  “I know she grew up here. I’d heard her childhood here wasn’t exactly idyllic.”

  Savannah let out a snort. “That’s putting it mildly. I saw some of the notes that she had written down about her early years. Lots of that didn’t make the book, but if it had … There was one girl in particular she had issues with back in high school—really big issues. And another girl who tried to be her friend, but that went down the drain when Ulla pulled a dirty trick on her. A real dirty trick.”

  Hmm, that tallies with what Wendy told us about Ulla’s ulterior motive for coming here. “Lots of stuff like that goes down in high school,” I said lightly. “I don’t imagine Ulla named actual names in her book. Or did she?”

  Savannah barked out a laugh. “Oh, goodness no. Legal would have had her head. No, the names were changed to protect the innocent—sort of.”

  “ ‘Sort of’?”

  “Well … according to Ulla, if anyone she knew back then read her book, they’d recognize themselves right away, name change or not.” She lowered her voice. “She was desperate to get hold of one person from her past … someone she referred to as Miggs.”

  “Miggs? That was this person’s last name?”

  “I have no idea. It was a woman, though, because she always referred to Miggs as a ‘her.’ She said that she simply had to speak with her before we went back to Charleston—no ifs, ands, or buts. And I know why.”

  I held my breath, and Savannah did not disappoint. “Just between us, Ulla was working with a therapist.”

  The lightbulb was shining now so brightly above my head, I could have reached out and touched it. “A therapist? It wouldn’t be a Dr. Gray by any chance?”

  “Yes, exactly! Have you heard of her?” Without waiting for an answer, Savannah rushed on. “Ulla wanted to put a lot of her trust and anger issues behind her. She enrolled in an anger management program with Dr. Gray. A large portion of this program involved making amends with people that she felt she’d wronged in some way in the past. That’s why she was so frantic to get hold of this Miggs person.”

  “I see,” I said slowly. “And you’re certain that the name was Miggs? It couldn’t have been … Maggie?”

  Savannah paused. “Maybe,” she said at last. “At any rate, I saw her talking with a woman in the back hallway. It seemed to be a very intense discussion. And shortly afterward is when Ulla collapsed!” She lowered her voice. “I don’t know the details, but from what I could gather about that relationship, it seemed to me like this Miggs person had an excellent reason for hating Ulla. Maybe even a good enough reason to kill her!”

  I was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “This woman you saw—do you remember what she looked like?”

  “I didn’t get a good look at her. She had a pink scarf with white dots wrapped around her head that hid most of her face. And she had on a really worn-looking red coat.” She sighed. “Not much of a help, is it?”

  Quite the contrary, I knew someone who owned a pink scarf and a worn red jacket just like Savannah had described.

  Maggie Shayne.

  After promising to look again for the necklace, I hung up and dialed Maggie’s number once more. After the voicemail kicked in, I said, “Maggie! This is serious! I need you to call me pronto.” I tossed the phone down on the desk, and as I did so, Kat stuck her head in my office.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “You could say that.” I gave Kat a quick rundown of my conversation with Savannah. When I finished, Kat let out a low whistle.

  “It sounds bad on the surface, but I can’t believe that Maggie would actually do something like that.”

  “Well, in that video she had on her red coat,” I said, my jaw clenched. “I recognized it right off. And she has a pink scarf with white dots on it. She had it on the other day.”

  Kat gave her head a brisk shake. “Lots of people own red coats, and I’ve seen a few women with dotted pink scarves. They had a sale on ’em a few weeks ago in Kings. It’s a coincidence, that’s all.”

  “Maybe.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “But what about her not answering her phone? That’s not like Maggie at all. She always answers her cell—you know, in case it’s about a rescue or an abandoned animal or something.” I eyed my sister. “She hasn’t called you or texted you again, has she?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason.” Kat shook her head. “I think you’re making mountains out of molehills, little Sis. I mean, Miggs might be a nickname for Maggie, but then again, maybe it’s not. Maggie’s probably just busy. She’s always been a straight shooter—you know that. I doubt that she’s avoiding you.”

  I sighed. “I hope you’re right.” But deep down I had my doubts.

  * * *

  Kat still had some paperwork to finish up, so I handed her the keys to my car and told her that I’d walk home. She started to protest, but stopped when I held firm, telling her that a nice leisurely walk would help clear the cobwebs out of my brain. She drove off, and after leaving a note for Sissy to check for the necklace when she came in for her shift in the morning, I set off at a quick pace up the block. As I passed Crowden’s, I glanced over at the shop and saw Tara leaning in the window, straightening a pile of books. She looked up, saw me, and motioned for me to enter. I hesitated, then walked over, noting as I did so that the display she’d been fussing over was of Ulla’s book. The door suddenly swung open, and Tara stood on the threshold, her eyes bright.

  “You wouldn’t believe the crowd that showed up after you guys left. Her book has been flying out of here.”

  I shook my head. “It’s amazing how a tragedy can boost sales sometimes, isn’t it?”

  “You can say that again.” She took my arm and pulled me inside the shop. “I’ve got about a dozen copies that Ulla signed for me in the back. I was going to put them out, but that girl who used to work for Ulla—Savannah, I think her name is—was in here earlier and told me to hang onto them and sell them on eBay. She said I could probably get a couple hundred e
ach for them. Can you imagine that?”

  Sadly, I could. “Sometimes celebrities become even more famous after they’re dead. Look at Marilyn Monroe.”

  “You’re right.” Tara’s head bobbed up and down. “I’m thinking of doing it, though, and giving all the proceeds to the shelter. What do you think?”

  “Selfishly, I think it’s a great idea,” I said. “But maybe you should wait a few days.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. If I do end up getting a lot for ’em, I guess I’ll have to send Savannah a thank-you note.”

  “I guess the shelter will too,” I agreed. I glanced at the pile of books in the window and plucked one from the pile. “You know, I think I’ll buy a copy myself. Everyone who’s read it has said it’s pretty spicy.”

  “Yeah, Wendy said that too. Of course, with Ulla as the subject matter, how could it be anything but.”

  I took the book over to the counter, and Tara rang up the sale. As she was slipping it into a green and white Crowden’s bag, I asked, “Why did Savannah come back?”

  “She wanted to know if Ulla’s silver necklace had turned up somewhere. She seemed quite concerned about it.”

  “Yes, she called me too. Ulla told her if anything ever happened to her, the necklace would be hers.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Wendy always said that Savannah was an opportunist.”

  “Really? She seemed sincere to me. She went on about how she’d miss Ulla and how much she’d learned from her.”

  Tara let out a snort. “She might have learned a few tricks from her, but miss her? Doubtful. Wendy overheard her on the phone a few days ago, telling someone that her ship was about to come in and, boy, was she ever going to enjoy having the last laugh.”

  I frowned as I slid my credit card back into my wallet. “Last laugh? On who? Not Ulla?”

  “Who else? Anyway, Wendy said Savannah’s seemed very different the past few weeks. Very confident. Who knows, maybe she interviewed for another job somewhere. She has a degree in something … English, I think.”

  I tucked my purchase under my arm. “I take it you don’t think she was sincere when she said she liked working for Ulla?”

  Tara wrinkled her nose. “I hate speaking ill of the dead but … who would? After all, she didn’t get the name “Dragon Lady” for nothing.”

  * * *

  Back out on the street, I pondered what Tara had told me. Ulla had argued with Ken about getting the Glow Cosmetics deal, had even threatened to quit if it weren’t awarded to her, yet they’d been all cozy and cuddly afterward. She’d been upset over Candy Carmichael’s appearance, and about the former beauty queen’s running for the Glow position as well. I wondered what had been so darned important to Ulla about getting that contract. Was it ego, or was it the fact that she just didn’t want Candy Carmichael to have it? Then there was Savannah—what was up with that? Did she genuinely care about Ulla, or had it all been an act? She might have hated Ulla, but if hatred were a crime, a lot of people would be in jail. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t realized I’d turned in the direction of Maggie’s house until I saw the quaint ranch loom up in front of me. Maggie’s beat-up Honda wasn’t in the driveway, but the garage door was shut. I walked up the short flight of steps to the porch and rang the bell. No answer. I knocked twice on the door, as hard as I could. Still nothing. I sighed and started down the steps, when the next-door neighbor’s door opened, and Jeannie MacGillicuddy thrust out her gray head.

  “Hello, Syd,” she called. “Are you looking for Maggie?” At my nod she went on, “I saw her leave earlier, around three I think. She had two big suitcases with her. Said she had some sort of family emergency and had to go out of town for a few days.”

  “A … a few days?” I cried.

  “Yep. She wasn’t certain just when she’d be back.” Jeannie eyed me curiously. “You look upset, Syd. Is something wrong?”

  “No, no. I’m just still a little flustered after what happened earlier today,” I said quickly.

  “Oh, yes, Ulla Townsend. Such a dreadful thing. Maggie was quite upset over it too.”

  My head snapped up. “She was?”

  “Sure seemed to be. She turned pale when I told her.” A soft “ding” sounded from within the house, and Jeannie shot me an apologetic smile. “Oh, that’s the timer for my pie. See you, Syd.”

  Jeannie shut the door and I just stood for a moment, trying to assimilate what she’d just told me. Maggie was ignoring my calls. Maggie had seemed upset over Ulla’s death. Last but not least, Maggie would be out of town for a few days.

  I tried, unsuccessfully, to tamp down the phrase that kept running through my mind: flight is considered evidence of guilt.

  “But she’s not fleeing,” I murmured to myself. “She’s got a family emergency.” Or so she’d said. I struggled to remember what Maggie had told me about her family. She had one sister who lived in San Francisco and another who lived in Detroit. Both were married, and each had two kids. Her parents were both deceased, and she had an aunt who lived in a nursing home in Weddington and a second cousin who lived on the other side of Deer Park.

  And just as I was racking my brain, trying to remember if there was anyone else, my phone buzzed that I had a text. I snatched it up and looked at the message on the screen:

  Sorry. I had to leave after what happened. I’ll be in touch soon.

  “Oh, Maggie,” I murmured, feeling my heart sink right down to my toes. “What have you done?”

  Chapter Eleven

  I tried my best, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of trepidation that coursed through me after reading Maggie’s text. On an impulse, I walked the three blocks over to Mulholland Street, where Maggie’s second cousin Rhonda lived. I’d met her a few times at the shelter, and she was a pleasant, plump woman who’d moved to Deer Park after her divorce a few years ago. She did some telemarketing out of her home and was just finishing up a call when I rang her bell. She seemed happy to see me, and invited me in for a cup of tea. I informed her that I couldn’t stay long, and then I explained about Maggie being out of town. “I really need to get in touch with her. You wouldn’t have any idea where she might have gone, would you?”

  Rhonda shook her head, letting a curl fall over one eye. “Sorry, no. I can’t imagine what sort of family emergency it might be. Last I heard, Aunt Chloris was doing fine at the nursing home.” She waved her hand in the air. “Maybe she just wanted to get away for a few days. It wouldn’t surprise me. She was kind of upset at Ulla Townsend coming back to town. And even though that signing benefited the shelter, I know it ate away at her. She just never trusted Ulla, and I can’t blame her—and now Ulla’s dead. I’m sure Maggie didn’t shed any tears, but knowing her, she probably feels bad. Like maybe her not wanting Ulla here might have caused it, which is ridiculous.”

  Is it? I thought. I sincerely hope so.

  Rhonda got up and walked over to the large bookcase that took up one corner of her living room. She selected a thin blue book and walked back to me. “This is Maggie’s high school yearbook,” she said. “I was gathering pictures for our family reunion, and she let me borrow it. I need to return it to her.” Rhonda flipped some pages and then held the book out to me. “Here’s a photo of Maggie and Ulla in the Glee Club. They’re right in front.”

  I took the book and peered at the black and white photograph. I recognized both Maggie and Ulla right away. From the happy expressions on their faces in that photo, one would never have suspected that they’d end up being enemies. I shut the book and handed it back to Rhonda. “I know something happened between them in high school a long time ago, and I get the feeling it was something pretty bad. Would you know anything about that?”

  Rhonda looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m not privy to all the details,” she said at last. “It’s really better if you ask Maggie. It’s her story to tell.” She paused. “One thing I will say, though, is that yes, it was bad. Really bad for Maggie.”

&
nbsp; I tried to pry more out of her, but Rhonda held firm. We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then I thanked Rhonda for her time and headed home. Toby greeted me at the door when I arrived, and I noticed a headless Melvin the Mouse lying a few feet behind him. I bent down to retrieve the mouse, then dangled him above Toby’s head.

  “You just can’t leave poor Melvin alone, can you?” I chided the cat.

  He looked up at me, eyes wide. “Merow?”

  “Okay, I know. Better Melvin than Leila’s couch.” I walked over to the kitchen island, set down my tote bag, and fished out my copy of Ulla’s book. I held it up for Toby to see. “See this poor woman, Toby? She was the main attraction for the shelter benefit. And now she’s dead.”

  Toby stared at the book, then cocked his head. “Rrr.”

  “She died from an allergic reaction, but no one seems to think she had any allergies—hence Will’s on the job. And a new guy, Charlie Callahan. They’re both competing for Bennington’s senior slot. Will seems to think that whoever solves this case will get the job.”

  Toby lay down, crossed his paws in front of him. “Mrrr?”

  “Exactly. I know how badly Will wants that job. I think I should help him solve this mystery so he can get it. What do you think?”

  The cat stared at me for a minute, then opened his mouth in a wide yawn.

  “Sorry to bore you,” I said with a chuckle. I took the book and settled in one of the kitchen chairs. Leaning back, I started to flip idly through it. The book was divided into thirty chapters and three sections: Ulla’s early years, her years struggling to find her niche, and her last fifteen years as a successful shopping channel host. The first section no doubt, was my best bet on finding a clue, if one were to be had, but curiosity over all the salacious parts of the book won out and I flipped to the third part.

  It didn’t take me long to find out that Ulla wasn’t above revealing skeletons in the closets of her coworkers. She didn’t name names, but the descriptions were so spot on, I imagined that people who were regular viewers would be able to read between the lines. She intimated that two hosts, both happily married, were embroiled in an affair, while another was a closet alcoholic. She ripped apart several staff members as well, and finally I found the section where she described her relationship with another female host as “dealing with a two-faced barracuda.” From her description I was almost positive the host, whom she called “Ms. X,” was Candy Carmichael.