I was glad he didn’t give us details for a visual. I watch Bones. I know the drill. Yuck. “Did anybody ever demand a ransom?” I asked.
“McDowell said no.”
I tasted a forkful of enchilada. “Oh, this is orgasmic.”
Werner’s elbow slipped off the desk so he ended up juggling his fork like a hot potato while I caught his beer bottle before it tipped.
Eve and I drank our beer the way he did. Good and cold. “So, motive: greed, envy, lust? Or Isobel pissed someone off, got in their way . . .”
Werner chewed thoughtfully. “Her body was exposed to the elements but out of sight. She could have been left—”
“In the bottom of a well,” Eve said, taking the heat away from my vision.
“In a heavily wooded area,” Werner added.
I nodded. “In a cave or a quarry?”
“So if it was so well hidden, why move it to Mad’s place?” Eve asked.
“Construction?” Werner and I hypothesized in sync.
“Nearly the same reason the bones were moved this second time, because I was moving in.”
“I’d like to know,” Eve said, “if Suzanne and Tunney are off the hook for Sampson’s death.”
“Suzanne’s done a runner,” Werner said, “but we know where she is. They’re barely suspects now that I verified Sampson’s status. Mad, I owe you an apology for that night.”
“Accepted.” I waved my bottle his way. “You have a job to do. Just, please, try not to do it at another Cutler family party in future. What about McDowell?”
Eve waved her fork. “Oh, oh. We heard Goodwin say tonight that he thinks McDowell manipulated Isobel’s father, also Goodwin’s uncle, into leaving McDowell the dealership.”
More notes. “I’ll look into it.”
“And Mad and I think McDowell killed Isobel.”
“Guesswork,” Werner said.
I tilted my head. “We know McDowell can’t be trusted. The question is whether he wanted the dealership enough to kill for it. Isobel would have inherited if she hadn’t died. She would have become her husband’s boss. Maybe she was planning to divorce him.”
For half a beat, we sat back to digest the information and sip our beer.
One six-pack down, one to go, and I was starting to feel it.
“Okay, Detective,” I said sitting forward. “Chew on this. Eve and I saw Gary Goodwin and Suzanne Sampson kissing, outside at her place.”
“From a boat,” Eve said. “No entering involved.”
Werner grinned. “Suzanne Sampson divorced both Gary Goodwin and Broderick Sampson. The gossips decided she was Sampson’s sister, and Suzanne didn’t bother to correct the misconception. She wasn’t faithful to either husband and she has the occasional fling with both, not necessarily at the same time. Lolique is Suzanne’s daughter by Sampson.”
“Ah, so they both started hanging around when they thought Sampson was going to make a fortune. Lolique still thinks her father was rich, by the way.” I told Werner what a mean-spirited stitch Lolique was tonight.
“Then the two murders are connected,” Eve added.
I inhaled my beer and coughed a minute. “Connected by Vinney!”
“Vincent Carnevale,” Werner said. “Another of Goodwin’s stepchildren.”
“You’ve been doing your homework,” I said.
“I should hope so.”
“So Lolique and Vinney are step-siblings?” I moved my jalapenos to the side of my plate.
Werner speared one for himself. “Yup. Same mother, different fathers.”
“To me, Vinney had less motive than any of them,” Eve said, “Yet I practically saw him steal the bones.”
“Mad?” Werner asked, “how did you know how long Isobel had been dead?”
“Easy. I have some of her clothes. She followed fashion trends and liked vintage, but I have nothing newer in style than the mid-eighties.”
Eve conveniently dropped a few details of my visions into the pot as speculation, but she also threw in a brilliant question, like could Vinney have been hired? I hadn’t thought of that. Werner had.
We were still at it, our minds on overload, when an officer came in. “I found McDowell’s alarm company—he’s had several plus some outside contractors. His current company said his alarm did not go off last night. And it isn’t silent. We couldn’t find the alarm at the house because the remote keypad’s in a box disguised as artwork in the front hall. The company rep said that was McDowell’s idea, like it was stupid.”
“All part of the lie to cover his ascot,” I said, “in the event neighbors or passersby said they didn’t hear an alarm. Which they wouldn’t have because the door was open, and he didn’t take the time to set it before he left. I think McDowell acts first, then he thinks.”
“You should know,” Eve said.
Werner opened his mouth and closed it again.
But if McDowell acted on impulse, which he had tonight, maybe Isobel’s disappearance was too well planned for him to be her killer. But I did not want to give that man an out, even in speculation.
An officer returned Eve’s personal possessions, and I used her cell phone to call my father, since my phone had gone the way of my Pucci bag, credit cards, and license.
Aunt Fiona came with Dad, wearing his sour expression.
“We weren’t charged,” I said, before he could say anything.
“But you spent the night in jail,” Fiona said. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Us.” My father corrected her. “Why didn’t you call us?”
Whoa, scary statement there. Were they an “us”? Dad hadn’t tripped over the words at all, which didn’t mean he wouldn’t tomorrow.
“I didn’t call because we only had to stay until our story could be verified.”
Eve nodded. “A couple of hours, a few beers, some Mexican food, and good company. The detective didn’t pick us up until well after midnight.”
“Picked up by the police,” my father said.
“I like to live on the edge.” I laid my head on his shoulder. “Can we go home now, Daddy? I’m tired.”
Aunt Fiona winked at my “Daddy’s little girl” ploy.
“Thank you both for an excellent chat,” Werner said as we headed for the car, and that was the last I remembered until Aunt Fiona woke me when we got home.
“I’ll tell you about it in the morning,” I said, going inside. “I mean, when I wake up.”
“Which has to be around eleven,” she reminded me. “You’re giving away scarecrow clothes today.”
I whimpered. “I’ll set my alarm.”
Not nearly enough sleep later, I got to the shop, where people lined up around the building. Parked cars slowed traffic. Potential contest entrants and a few unknowns, who, I think, needed free clothes, swarmed the tables.
That’s when I heard the news from Eve. Her car had been found beside the river with a hole in the convertible top. A hole the size of a spiked heel.
Later, Werner told me that my Pucci bag was neither inside nor out of the car, and I hoped it hadn’t ended up in the river. Baste it, I hoped I didn’t end up in the river.
Vinney’s, I mean the councilman’s sweater had gone missing, as well.
I couldn’t drive my car until I got a new license. A few days ago, I thought that once I had my car and my stock had been moved in, I’d be home free. So not.
I watched my back that day, but uniformed officers came for scarecrow clothes, so Werner watched it, too.
McDowell wasn’t the first enemy I’d ever made. He wouldn’t be the last.
But he might be the deadliest.
Thirty-six
Choose your corner, pick away at it carefully, intensely and to the best of your ability and that way you might change the world.
—CHARLES EAMES
I had plenty of reason to fear McDowell, I thought as I closed up shop, my father waiting in the parking lot, but what about the self-effacing man who wanted a dealership
so badly he went there every day, hoping a portrait might fall?
I knew anyone who got in Lolique’s greedy, spiteful way should fear her. She’d implicate her husband to get her hands on his money.
Vinney I had reason to fear, his eyes so filled with bloodlust when he tried to choke me they haunted me.
The following morning, Eve called as I got ready for Halloween Ball fittings. “I got the news from Tunney—he who knows everything,” she said. “Vinney skipped town.”
I grabbed my throat. “Must have happened during the night, but skipped or not, I don’t like Vinney on the loose now that he tried to kill me.”
“I don’t like it now that I tried to kill him.”
“We’ll both take care. Eve, can you surf the net and find out what Zachary Goodwin, Isobel’s father, died of?”
“I’ll try,” she said before she hung up.
I was so jumpy after Eve’s call I decided that the best way to watch my back was to keep my enemies close, the ones I could find. I called Natalie at the car dealership, ostensibly to thank her for saving my life the other day, but I knew she kept McDowell’s schedule. A bit of chitchat netted me the time and location of his lunch date with his wife. Natalie admitted, however, that McDowell liked to have his schedule leaked for publicity purposes. Big surprise.
That noon, at a local restaurant, I pretended to run into Lolique and the councilman, where I asked them to judge the scarecrow competition.
The councilman seemed delighted by the prospect, and I knew he’d bring television coverage, because he never left home without it.
Lolique’s reaction to my invitation was tepid, at best, until I mentioned giving her an exclusive on the Vintage Magic article. Not that she’d really wanted to write that story. She’d just wanted to dupe us dopes, which was beside the point.
“You know, Lolique, I lost the Pucci bag I carried when we had drinks the other night. I wondered if I’d dropped it in your front hall when we went in with you.” When you were hammered, I wanted to say but didn’t. Yes, I was giving her an opportunity to return my bag with dignity.
She raised her chin. “I’ll ask Maid if she found an old handbag.”
“I’d appreciate it. Have you seen Vinney lately?”
McDowell stiffened. “I don’t care if he is half related to her, if he comes near either of us, again, I’ll have him arrested for trespassing.”
Was the old goat clueless or what? Vinney was a burglar suspected of arson and murder. He wouldn’t stop at trespassing.
“We haven’t seen him,” Lolique said, eyeing her husband with such disdain I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
After I left the restaurant, I went to see Werner.
“You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” I said as I sat down across from him.
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking almost comfortable in my presence. “Madeira, I already do.”
I rather enjoyed sparring with him but shocking him was more fun. “I asked Councilman and Mrs. McDowell to judge the scarecrow competition.”
Werner sat forward so fast, it was a wonder he didn’t snap his spine. “He’s nobody to mess with, Madeira.”
“I know. That’s why I want you to judge, too. And I won’t accept ‘not if you stick a fork in my eye’ as an answer.”
He nearly smiled. “At least we’ll know where they are.”
“Exactly. Is that a yes?”
“Under the circumstances, I’d consider it my civic duty.”
“You believe me about them, now, don’t you?”
“Let’s say that the quilt, the rings, and the Mexican beer chat helped.”
He had to know that I’d done some primo sleuthing while we were at it, but if he wasn’t saying, then neither was I.
For the next couple of days, along with everything else I did, I catered to Fiona’s fellow witches looking for outfits for the Halloween Ball and to our neighbors still hunting for scarecrow clothes.
Fiona put out plenty of stock for both events.
I named my nooks—not hearse stalls—which Eve printed on her laser printer. I slipped each “address” into street name-type frames and hung them at the entry to each nook: Shoe Heaven, Bag Lady, Vive la Paris—for haute couture—Eternals, Little Black Dress Lane, Very Vintage, Unique Street, Around the World, and Mad as a Hatter.
For a while I’d toyed with naming the nooks after designers, but there were too many, and this way, I could mix it up and seduce my customers into looking through everything.
One of Aunt Fiona’s witch friends, Rebecca Engle, asked to try on the buff suede wraparound fringed skirt that belonged to McDowell’s first wife.
“I’ll turn it into a Native American costume for the ball,” she said, “and I can wear it as it is afterward.”
I’d avoided touching it up until now, so I waited with dread for her to exit the dressing room.
“It fits like a dream,” she said, still wearing it.
I released a breath, glad I didn’t have to touch it.
“Can you sew another button on it while I’m wearing it?” she asked.
“Of course.” I looked around for Aunt Fiona, thinking maybe she could sew it on, but she’d gone to bring some sewing upstairs. A minute; I would only have to touch it for a minute.
I found a small clear button and thread and stood Rebecca on the riser facing the triple mirrors. “I need the skirt tighter,” she said, “but I’d like to keep the original button, in the event of too much dessert.”
I tried hard to concentrate on nothing but my sewing; nevertheless, carnival sounds filled my ears, while into my dizzy view came a man’s hand, wearing a big tigereye ring, offering a glass of what looked like lemonade.
The woman who accepted the glass wore the suede fringed skirt and sported an emerald-cut diamond. Isobel’s diamond.
“I hope it wins,” he said—not the voice of the man she’d argued with over the ledgers.
“Mom would be so proud, if it won,” Isobel replied. She knew him well enough to say “Mom”?
“You did a great job on it.”
A merry-go-round whirled beyond them. I heard a public announcement for a pie contest as a half-empty glass of lemonade hit the dirt, then so did the woman. Unconscious. The man reached for her. “Let’s go,” he said.
“She’ll be fine,” Aunt Fiona said. “She didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
I focused on Aunt Fiona and Rebecca looking down at me. Did I wig out? I found myself still kneeling on the floor, sitting back against my legs, a needle in my hand, Rebecca’s new button in place. “Did I take a catnap?” I asked. “I’ve got to stop reading all night.”
“If you go and change, Rebecca,” Aunt Fiona said, “I’ll ring that up.”
“Have I priced it?”
“Yes, two hundred dollars.”
“It’s a steal. How bad did I zone?” I whispered.
“Not bad, though it was the first time you had a vision in front of me and a customer. It’s a good thing you don’t twitch and drool when you do.”
“Gee, thanks, something else to worry about.”
We got Rebecca square and out the door.
“What did you see?” Aunt Fiona asked pushing a folding chair against the back of my legs.
“That maybe Isobel was drugged or poisoned at the fair? There must have been something in that glass of lemonade. The man didn’t seem at all surprised that she lost consciousness.”
Another customer approached us, and several more costumes went out, all from my original stock, thank the Goddess, because that vision had drained me. I couldn’t touch any more of Isobel’s clothes today.
While I was prepping for another afternoon of giving away scarecrow clothes, my cell phone rang.
“Nick, are you okay?”
“I am, and I’ve got a couple of minutes to talk for a change. First, I was able to access the local forensics report on Sampson. He was struck in the gut, fell, and cracked his skull on t
he corner of a cabinet. That’s what ultimately killed him. Time of death was shortly before the fire. The only fingerprints on the scene considered suspicious belonged to a Vincent Carnevale.”
Who was on the loose. I sighed. “Looks like Sampson might have gotten in the way of Vinney starting the first fire, which seems more and more like a ruse to empty my building, so he could grab the bones. Maybe that’s why I’m not getting visions about Sampson, though I am getting them about the bones. Any ID on the bones? The FBI lab got those, right?”
“We got them, but identifying a set of charred bones will take a while. They also have to wait their turn.” Nick sighed. “Whoever you’re dealing with, on either case, doesn’t play nice. Watch your back, ladybug.”
“Believe me, I am.” He didn’t know the half of it.
“Enough about murder,” Nick said. “How are you doing? What are you doing?”
“What am I not doing? With only a week left to get ready, I’m setting up shop and filling nooks with vintage clothes, when I’m not fitting witches for movie costumes or chasing murder suspects.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Say that after you see the place.”
“I might be too busy getting my hands on you then.”
“Mmm. Looking forward to it, but since you’re there and I’m here—” I cleared my voice. “Let me tell you what else I’ve done.”
“What else?” he asked, and I could sense his smile and his hunger.
I ignored my physical reaction to the timbre of his voice and started to pace. “I got an alarm system. It’ll take about two days to install, but it should be ready in time for the opening. An upscale system, extra protective and very noisy.”
“You should have had that done right away.”
“Never mind the ‘I told you so.’ I should have, but break-ins, fire, and murder got the best of me.”
“Which is why you should have—”
“Enough with the jabs, already. Trust me, this system will scare the scrap out of anybody who dares to try and break into Vintage Magic.”
Larcency and Lace Page 17