Grand Prize: Murder!

by Vivian Conroy

  Trust Marge to start organizing at once, Vicky thought with a smile.

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned round. Diane smiled at her. “The kids are gone already, and Alain and I are going too.”

  Vicky studied Diane’s expression. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I can understand though that Michael didn’t want to come. It’s odd to…be in the center of attention like this. All the while the mayor was talking I was wondering what Celine would have thought of this. She never could stand pompous people, you know.”

  Diane’s voice trembled a bit. “Alain insisted that I come, also for…closure as he calls it. But I don’t know if anything like it even exists.”

  Vicky squeezed her arm in silent sympathy.

  Diane said with a sigh, “I can’t explain it, but now that we know for sure that Celine did die, it’s like she’s more alive than ever. I remember all the things we used to do and how much fun we used to have. There is a memory around every corner here in Glen Cove.” She blinked.

  Vicky didn’t know what to say. Maybe the same reason had prompted Michael to leave for Copenhagen? He had claimed to her it was a sort of paid vacation, but his expression had told her something else. He had to get away again, run from the hurting, like he had always done. It was his way of survival. That didn’t change overnight.

  Maybe in a way it was even worse now that he had found the answers he had been hunting for so long. There was nothing left to do now. Just an emptiness in which he felt the loss all the deeper.

  She said to Diane, “Look, if you need distraction, you can always stop by at the store and lend a hand. It will be busy with Bella around for the book signing and the scavenger hunt. It’ll last through next week.”

  Diane smiled thinly. “Thanks. And you have to come to dinner at my place sometime so we really have time to catch up. I want to show you the books for the architecture classes I’m taking. It’s an online course, ideal to put some time into whenever you want. Early in the morning or at night. I think you’ll really like it.”

  “Sure, I’ll give you a call to determine the night.” With her hand on Diane’s shoulder Vicky accompanied the couple out of the store.

  To her surprise the man who had been looking up at the apartment from across the street was now in front of the apartment’s door, peering in through the glass pane. The For Rent poster obstructed most of his view so he was tilting his head in every possible angle to see something.

  With a frown Vicky stepped up to him and asked, “Excuse me? Can I help you?”

  A normal person would have felt some kind of shock or shame at being caught red-handed like that, but the man simply faced her and asked, “Is Bella Brookes staying here?”

  He waved up at the upstairs windows. “I rang the bell a couple of times, but she doesn’t come to the door.”

  Ignoring his demanding tone, Vicky asked, “And you are?”

  “Giverny. Haven Herald. I’d love an interview with her about her books.”

  “Then you have to contact her PR people. They are in charge of the entire book tour. They know her schedule and can determine if they can fit you in.”

  Vicky tried to stay polite and accommodating, although she thought the man was being quite pushy in an off-putting way. Did he really expect Bella would just invite him in for a chat?

  He also had a three-day stubble and a huge mustache that looked like it came from an amateur theater kit.

  Giverny said, “I only want to know if she’s staying here. I saw her lugging a big suitcase in.”

  “You have to call the PR people,” Vicky insisted. If she confirmed to this guy Bella was indeed staying here, he might keep ringing the bell until Bella opened the door out of sheer annoyance at the noise. “They can tell you much more than I can, I’m sure. Good day, Mr. Giverny.” She stared at him, forcing him to back away from the door and cross the street again.

  Diane and Alain had watched the exchange, and Diane now asked, “What does he want?”

  Vicky shrugged. “He claims to be a reporter out for an interview with Bella.”

  Alain said, “Must be some paparazzo. His camera doesn’t have a real big lens though. It’s more like a holiday kind of camera.”

  Vicky made a dismissive gesture. “Maybe he’ll bring a photographer to the interview he wants to do? It doesn’t matter really. As long as he doesn’t bother Bella. Thanks so much for coming to see the sign being unveiled, and I’ll be in touch about dinner.”

  She hugged Diane and watched as the couple walked away, hand in hand, down the busy street.

  Then, involuntarily, she scanned for the brash Mr. Giverny again. He was outside the diner, pretending to read the menu on the chalkboard beside the entrance. He held a cell phone to his ear and was talking fast, excitedly. Probably reporting to his newspaper that he had found Bella Brookes.

  Well, there was nothing to be done about it. Bella was used to attention and judging by her determined way of handling things, she’d be quite able to deal with the press.

  After a long, loving look at her brand-new sign Vicky went back into the Country Gift Shop.

  Chapter Three

  Marge had put the laptop on the counter and was working the keyboard with two fingers. Still it produced a sound as if someone was typing with ten. Marge only had one speed: full tilt.

  Claire had sat down in a chair by the fireplace with the dogs in her lap and called out that computers were a mystery to her. “I don’t trust them.”

  Ms. Tennings nodded in agreement. She sat opposite Claire with a wooden tray on her lap. On the tray were a dozen small soaps she was decorating with ribbons, each in a matching or contrasting color. “I do use email to stay in touch with some old friends in the UK,” she confided, “and I know how to pay bills electronically, but I can’t work out all the functions of such programs.”

  “Aren’t there courses for senior citizens at the community center?” Marge said as she clicked on the touch pad.

  Ms. Tennings grimaced. “Yes, but going to one of those makes me feel quite helpless. I’ve been the teacher for all of my life, you know.” She held up a reddish soap with a white ribbon to Vicky. “How do you like this?”

  Vicky came over for a closer look. “Great. I’m also thinking about some finishing touches. Maybe a sprig of lavender and herbs from the garden? I really want to make the gifts stand out so I’ll get more orders for hen parties.”

  “When are you delivering this order?”

  “Saturday morning at the hotel where the bride-to-be and her family are staying.”

  Ms. Tennings nodded. “We’ll do the finishing touches then. I can bring material from my garden as well so we have enough. Everything else is arranged for?”

  Vicky enumerated on her fingers, “For each guest to the hen party a small soap from my exclusive collection, a scented candle in a glass holder with heart decoration and a mini book with quotes, appropriate to their connection to the bride-to-be. So quotes on motherhood for Mom, being sisters for the sisters, friendship for the friends et cetera.”

  “You forgot to mention,” Marge said, “that the bride-to-be mailed us a list with everybody’s favorite color and favorite scent so we can customize the whole thing. Imagine this: Monica likes red so she has to have the strawberry-scented candle and the soap with the reddish tinge and then the book on friends. Oh no, she is a sister-in-law so she has to get the book on sisters.”

  Vicky laughed. “You make it sound so terrible. My client just wants bespoke presents.”

  Marge grimaced. “I’m used to bulk orders. If you had ever washed the outfits for a Little League team, you’d know what I mean.”

  Vicky laughed even harder. “So Kev made the promise to the trainer and you are doing all the work?”

  Marge sighed in resignation. “They are also coming to our place to eat after training. I’ll be making about a hundred pancakes.”

  Vicky cringed. “Then I’d rather do the hen party order. Each
to his own, right? What on earth are you doing anyway?”

  “I’m using Bella’s cover with the London skyline because it’s so familiar. Then all I need is some catchy text. For the posters, to advertise the scavenger hunt.”

  Vicky and Ms. Tennings came to stand by Marge’s side as she put pictures in place and added text.

  SEE BRITAIN AND DIE author Bella Brookes

  signs at the Glen Cove Community Center.

  Be there for a chance to win a trip for two

  to that capital of crime

  LONDON!

  “How’s that?” she asked, staring at the screen in concentration.

  Vicky whistled. “Where did you learn to make things like that?”

  “The library needed promotional material last year, and I offered to make it. You can hire someone for it, but you know how we are budget-wise. So I taught myself all I know. I’m not too hot on courses either where the computer whiz makes you feel like you can’t keep up. Now I can make as many mistakes as I like and repair them without anyone looking over my shoulder.”

  Marge grinned at Ms. Tennings, then turned to Vicky again. “Anything you don’t like about this design? I can still change the font size for instance.”

  “Yes, maybe we should put the date and time in a different font. Or maybe even in a different place on the poster? To draw attention? If people walk past it, they don’t have much time to grab the essentials.”

  “Right. Where would you like it? How big?”

  Vicky leaned over and pointed out a few more things that Marge changed with a mouse click or two.

  After all changes were done and the end product fully approved, Marge printed off one full-color version on the store’s printer and handed it to her with a bow. “Your master copy, ma’am. Multiply it at the Joneses and we can spread it around town.”

  Claire sat up already, eager to do her part. “I’ll take some posters along for Marjorie’s B&B and the fishmonger. I’m picking up dinner there anyway.” She brushed the head of Mr. Pug, who looked alert and ready to jump into action as well. “We don’t have much time to get people talking about this.”

  At Jones General across the road, Vicky was met by Mrs. Jones’ cousin, Bob, a nice-looking guy in his mid-thirties who was a favorite with the senior citizens to whom he delivered groceries. Bob was always eager to help change a lightbulb or look at a leaking faucet. He drove little old ladies out to their bridge nights or to the bank. He taught them how to use email so they could contact their grandchildren with ease or how to make a digital photo album of their family snapshots. There wasn’t a whole lot that Bob couldn’t do.

  Now, with a wide smile, he asked Vicky if he could show her how the copying machine worked.

  Acknowledging the possibility that she’d accidentally run off faulty copies she couldn’t use but would have to pay for, Vicky gave him the master copy.

  “Hey.” Bob’s tanned index finger circled the name Bella Brookes. “I thought she was hiding away from the public. Bit of an eccentric recluse.”

  Vicky was surprised. Bella might be eccentric, but a recluse? “Where did you get that idea?”

  He shrugged. “Must be mistaking her for somebody else. A trip to London, huh?” He whistled. “That’s some prize. I bet Aunt Em would love to see Buckingham Palace, take tea in some fancy tea parlor there. What kind of contest is it? Geocaching? I’ve always wanted to do that. Wouldn’t she be surprised if I took her to London for her birthday in October.”

  Vicky smiled at his enthusiasm. “It could be geocaching for all I know. Bella Brookes hasn’t revealed all the details yet, but she will do so at the book signing on Saturday afternoon. We did announce the signing in advance of course under regional activities, but the chance to win tickets to London is a later addition, so some extra posters seemed like a good idea.”

  “For sure.” Bob put the master copy in place and pushed buttons on the control panel. “This is for the paper size. Letter. Here we have black and white or full-color. Full-color it is. That should do it. Just one at first to see how it looks, hey.”

  The machine began to hum. Bob smiled at her. “You think I could participate in this hunt?”

  “Everybody can who is not involved with my store. Because we’re organizing it, we’re legally excluded from participation.”

  “Ah. That’s too bad. But then again you lived there for years so you know it all, I bet.”

  “Right.” Back in the UK, when traveling around and seeing lots of people, it had always been Vicky’s favorite game to guess what people did for a living. There was always something that gave them away. Bob here for example looked like an athlete with a broad chest and muscled arms, but he also liked to explain things. He was patient and enthusiastic. Coupled with a long summer vacation, it was a no-brainer.

  He had to be a teacher. Phys ed.

  Bob said, “Why don’t I give you a hand getting these spread around?”

  Without waiting for a response, he walked away and stuck his head round the door leading into the back area. “Aunt Em, I’m off. Will be back in an hour.”

  A voice said something in reply that Vicky couldn’t make out. Bob waved a hand. “Later, OK?”

  He turned to her. “I’ll do the stores in town and then take my car to the north, put them up at restaurants, gas stations, hotels and campsites. You take the south, OK?”

  Vicky smiled again. He was thinking up places to put the posters that she hadn’t even considered herself. And with his natural charm he’d talk anybody into allowing a poster to be put up on the announcement board or the front window. “Great. Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem.” He held her gaze a moment longer, his eyes lighting with a special warmth.

  Vicky knew that a lot of little old ladies were a little enamored with Bob, who was always so nice. She supposed it was just his way of handling people and it didn’t mean anything. He probably had no idea how many hearts he had already broken with that winning smile.

  Armed with her stack of posters, Vicky returned to the Country Gift Shop to find a familiar customer browsing the rack that held silk scarves from an artist on Jersey. Coco had come over and was sniffing around the customer’s exclusive stiletto heels.

  Even in a simple summer dress Lilian Rowland exuded class and money. She had styled her platinum blonde bob with a light wave to look like a twenties’ hairdo. The only things missing were a string of pearls and a headband with a feather. Obviously Lilian was already in the roaring twenties mood for her upcoming party on Friday night.

  Lilian smiled and returned the scarf with the magnolias she had been examining to the rack. “Congratulations on your new sign. It looks very stylish. Sorry that I couldn’t be here when it was offered. I intended to, but my appointment with the architect about some changes to our home ran a little late.”

  Vicky glanced at Marge, who was fighting laughter, it seemed. Lilian already had a house to drool over, but she kept hiring people to change things about it, to the frustration of her husband, Deke, who thought it all a waste of money.

  Lilian said, “But I did want to drop by and give you this.” She opened her purse and pulled something out. Coco stared up at her in concentration, expecting a treat.

  Lilian handed Vicky a baby blue envelope with golden decoration along the edges, then turned to Marge to hand her an identical one. She then held a third in the air. “I’d like to invite you both to my roaring twenties’ party if you can bring Bella Brookes along. I know it’s short notice, but Bella will love my theme. The twenties were also the golden age of crime fiction, right? I’d love to hear what her favorite Agatha Christie story is.”

  Vicky couldn’t remember having seen any books in Lilian’s house when she had visited with Michael and Diane. But in such a large house Lilian probably had a separate library.

  Maybe even with a movable ladder?

  Something like that was Vicky’s secret dream.

  Would Lilian show off the library to Bella
Brookes if she did come to the party on Friday?

  Marge said to Lilian, “I never knew you liked Agatha Christie.”

  Lilian made an eloquent hand gesture. “Doesn’t everyone? I do hope you can bring Bella Brookes. Her presence will lend such a nice touch to the party. I only hope the weather will be better than it has been for the past few days. It’s always raining at night. But we have room to move inside if need be. I read somewhere that Bella Brookes adores tropical flowers so she must take a look at my orchids.”

  Left in Lilian’s personal care, the orchids would probably be dead quickly, Vicky guessed. The socialite’s French manicured hands weren’t made to dig into the earth, or even handle a sprinkling can. And orchids were fussy about their treatment. Too much water could be fatal in a flash. But she said, “Bella will be delighted to see your conservatory if she’s still free on Friday night. I’ll give your invitation to her and she’ll let you know, I’m sure.”

  “Wonderful. Got to dash. See you all Friday night.” And Lilian was gone, leaving just the lingering scent of her expensive perfume. Coco seemed to realize the chance for a treat was gone and returned to Claire with her head down.

  Vicky clutched the envelopes, glancing at Marge.

  Marge glanced back, then burst out laughing. “That look on your face. Just like Coco’s.”

  “Well,” Vicky said, “do I feel happy or insulted? It’s obvious Lilian only wants Bella Brookes as special star at her party and is just using us as the channels through which she manages to reel her in. She blatantly ignored Ms. Tennings and my mother, as if they weren’t even here.”

  “She could hardly explain she wasn’t inviting them,” Marge said. “Lilian likes to maintain an exclusive guest list. She only included us because of Bella.”

  “Exactly.” Vicky grimaced. “Perhaps we should have said we had other engagements already?”

  “Are you crazy? Miss the chance to see her award-winning home? The place is probably loaded with valuables.”