My phone rang every day for the next two weeks. The number was blocked. After the first four days, I turned off the ringer. After ten I powered it off. On day fifteen, I turned it on. There was one message.
“Madison, this is Officer Young. I need to talk to you regarding Brad Turlington. Please call me at your earliest convenience.”
I ignored the message for three more days.
I spent a lot of time lying in the twin bed from Joanie’s store, staring at the ceiling. Rocky slept by my thigh. We took walks around the neighborhood three times a day, and I met a few of the neighbors.
When the pet food ran low, I knew I had to leave the house. I pulled a navy blue tunic over a white turtleneck and navy and white plaid pants, tied a yellow scarf around my hair and slipped into yellow patent leather shoes. I walked to the grocery store and pushed a cart up and down the aisles, so lost in my thoughts that I almost crashed carts with Connie Duncan.
“Madison!”
“Connie, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. If I were you, I’d be preoccupied, too.”
“This is a nice coincidence. I’ve been meaning to call you, to see how you’re doing.”
“It’s not really a coincidence. I saw you walking along the road and followed you.” She tipped her head to one side. “You were going to check on me?”
“Since the car accident. How are you?”
“Madison, I’m fine. I’ve been to the studio about a hundred times. It’s never open. I’ve been calling you too. When the news broke, about the counterfeiting and about Brad, I couldn’t believe that Ned and I had pushed you to be with him. We’ve both been worried. I didn’t know if we’d ever see you again.”
I didn’t want to admit I’d been living in solitude for the past few weeks, that I’d essentially shut out the outside world. I didn’t want Connie to know that Brad had vanished into thin air, but I also didn’t know how to go about pretending everything was normal.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Connie asked.
“Sure.”
After I checked out, I pushed the cart to the parking lot and loaded the bags into Connie’s trunk. I gave her directions to Thelma Johnson’s house. I considered it a good sign that I was allowing another person into my private Idaho. A good sign, that is, until she pulled up to the front of the house and parked behind a police cruiser.
“Who’s house is this?” Connie asked.
“Mine. I don’t live here … well, I guess I kind of do live here. I’d explain but I don’t think this is the right time.”
We both got out of the car. Connie popped the trunk and unloaded my groceries. She helped me carry them to the front door, then hesitated for a second.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
“Not yet. Soon, but not yet.” I hugged her. “Thank you, Connie. When I get everything sorted out, if you want, I’ll give you that kitchen we’ve been talking about.”
Connie hugged me back. “I’m going to hold you to it.”
I fumbled with the front door keys. Officer Young appeared from around the side of the building. She was in her uniform. A canvas shopping bag hung from her shoulder.
“I brought your mail,” she said.
“How did you know I was here?”
Tex stepped out from around the side of the house. I looked at him, then at her. He put his hand up and shook it side to side, as if telling her not to answer. She set the canvas bag on my porch by the screen door and walked away.
Tex approached slowly. If I hadn’t been looking for a limp, I might not have noticed the change to his walk.
“Abby? She’s your chauffeur?”
“I don’t need a chauffeur anymore. Department cleared me for regular duty.”
“So why is she here?” I asked.
“This was her idea.”
I looked past Tex to Abby, who was unwinding Rocky’s leash from around Connie’s legs.
“I’m surprised it took you so long,” I said to Tex.
“You didn’t leave town. That’s a good sign.”
“It’s not a bad idea. Get lost, start over. There are some people I’d rather didn’t find me.”
“You might get your wish.”
“Do you have a lead on Brad? Do you have any idea where he went or if he even went anywhere? I keep thinking I’m going to walk outside and he’s going to be sitting on my doorstep, or worse, hiding in my studio. I have nightmares that he’s going to show up again.”
“Night, we found a body in a hotel room about a hundred miles northeast of Dallas. Gunshot wound to the head. Messy.” Tex paused for a second, and his voice dropped. “It was Turlington.”
“You’re sure?” I whispered.
“We’re sure.”
I closed my eyes as Tex’s words sank in. Brad was dead. By killing himself, he’d admitted his guilt. And that guilt tainted every single memory I had of the good times with him. A numb sensation radiated from my chest and spread through my arms and down my thighs. I wondered if I’d ever feel anything again.
“Night? You still with me?”
“I’m not with you, Tex. I’m not with anybody.”
“That’s funny, because it feels like you’re with me even when you’re not. And that’s not something I ever saw coming.”
“I can’t talk about this right now.”
“Then call me when you can, because I don’t see this changing. You know the number.” He walked past me and headed down the street to the waiting police car.
I carried the canvas bag into the dining room and emptied a stack of envelopes, magazines, color circulars from the grocery store, and a tortilla-chip colored padded envelope onto the table. The handwriting on the front of the envelope was Brad’s.
I sank into one of the chrome-trimmed kitchen chairs and stared out the window. The view from the kitchen included a small sidewalk that led to the separate garage. On the right hand side were the flower beds I’d caught Tex watering. The sun shone on the green grass and the wooden stakes that supported tomato plants starting to bud. The social garlic was blooming next to it, the purple flowers standing two feet tall.
I took a deep breath, tore the envelope open, and tipped it until the contents fell onto the table. A bundle of white tissue paper hit the Formica tabletop with a thunk. My hands shook as I unfolded the layers. When I reached the middle, I sat back in my chair and stared at it.
Brad’s Rolex.
I picked up the watch and held it for a couple of seconds. The crystal was broken, but the watch still kept time. When I turned it over and read the inscription, I knew it had been right. Time had been the one thing that told me the truth. I set the watch between two small clay pots of African Violets and noticed a slip of paper that had been tucked into the tissue paper under the watch. I unfolded it and read his note. You deserve more.
I left the watch on the sill while I carried the plants to the sink. I watered each one and let them drain, then collected the layers of tissue paper and carried them to the trash can. When I let go, the layers fell apart.
Between the tissue paper was a plastic sleeve. On the top left were the letters PMG next to a picture of a scale. Below that were the words Paper Money Guaranty. To the right of the logo were the words $5000 1928 Federal Reserve Note Atlanta. Under that was a series of numbers and letters that meant nothing to me. Inside was a slightly weathered, but otherwise new, James Madison bill.
I knew the bill was evidence.
I knew it didn’t belong to me.
I knew the right thing to do would be to contact Secret Service and arrange to turn it over to them.
I flipped the plastic over and stared at the back. The simplicity of the design, vibrant green ink more beautiful than an emerald. It had been created in a time when th
e need for magnetic strips and holograms to prohibit counterfeiting would have sounded like science fiction. One bill, that, if proven to be real, was worth about hundred thousand dollars to someone.
I sank back into the dining room chair and propped my elbows on the table, holding the plastic envelope in front of my face. I looked back out the window and watched the police cruiser idle by the curb. After a few minutes, it pulled away and drove down the street.
I picked up my cell phone and called information for the number to Paper Trail.
“Paper Trail, Stanley Mann speaking.”
“Mr. Mann, this is Madison Night. I wasn’t sure if you’d be back at work yet.”
“Life goes on, Ms. Night. Won’t do me any good to pretend it doesn’t, just because I lived through a nightmare.”
“About that nightmare,” I started. We exchanged what we knew about the case. I asked about his dog, he asked about my injury. It was as if I was talking to a friend.
“How late are you open today?” I asked. It felt like déjà vu, that familiar sensation of knowing I’d spoken those same words the last time I called this number. “I have something I want to give you.”
I made arrangements to meet the numismatist at his temporary office in the Lakewood Antique Mall. I hung up the phone, tucked the plastic pouch with the collectible bill back into the mailing envelope, and set it on the corner of the counter.
The front door opened, and Connie stood in the doorway. “I overheard part of your conversation. Do you need a ride to the Lakewood Antique Mall?”
“Actually, I do. Do you mind?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. Ned’s waiting for me. But I know someone who can take you if you want.”
She pushed the door open wider, and Tex stepped into view.
“I thought you said I should call you when I’m ready to talk? Because I’m nowhere near ready.”
He stepped through the doorway and approached me. His blue eyes sparkled.
“Who said anything about talking?”
Reader’s Discussion Guide
1. Madison has established an independent life for herself, but when Brad returns, she is thrown off-kilter. Do you think she is as independent as she portrays herself, or do you think she has merely shut out the world to avoid emotional entanglements?
2. Madison waffles back and forth on whether or not to trust Brad, based on how she used to feel and how she feels now. Do you think both sets of feelings are justified?
3. Do you think Brad truly cares for Madison, or do you think he is a manipulator and sees her as a means to an end?
4. Madison’s relationship with Brad is exposed in That Touch of Ink. Do you feel like you have a better understanding of what made Madison the woman she is, or do you think she is still hiding behind the Doris Day image?
5. Many of the characters—including Madison—engage in subversive behavior in this book. Consider Madison drugging Brad, Brad lying to Madison, Hudson confiding in Tex, and Tex not telling Madison that Brad is a person of interest. Do you think their behavior is justified? Do you think any of the characters has more reason for acting the way they do than others?
6. How did you feel when Hudson left Dallas? Did you want him to stay, or were you happy that he was moving on with his life after what happened in Pillow Stalk?
7. Madison finds herself confiding in Lt. Tex Allen about Brad. Do you think he is a smart choice for confidant? Does he put his job as police lieutenant above his attraction to Madison, vice versa, or neither?
8. Both Madison Night and Officer Donna Nast are strong female characters. Are they more alike than they would admit? Or does one have traits the other aspires to have herself? Does the animosity between them stem from their individual relationships with Tex, or do you think there’s more at the core?
9. Is it creepy or a sweet gesture that Brad makes over Madison’s living room without consulting her?
10. Even though he hurt her, Madison lets Brad back into her life. Do you think she is looking for closure on her past or nostalgic for what was a defining relationship in her life? If it were you, what would you have done differently? What would you have done the same?
From the Author
This is a mystery about a counterfeiting scheme, but it’s also about broken trust. How easy is it to accept someone back into your life after he or she has lied to you? What if there is an explanation for the lie? Even if a person can find their way to forgive and forget, can trust ever really be reestablished?
About Diane Vallere
Diane Vallere lives in a world where popcorn is a breakfast food and Doris Day movies are revered for their cultural significance. After over twenty years in the fashion industry, she now writes full time, juggling the Mad for Mod series, the Style & Error series, and the upcoming Material Witness series. She launched her own detective agency at age ten and has maintained a passion for shoes, clues, and clothes ever since. Visit her at www.dianevallere.com.
In Case You Missed the 1st Book in the Series
PILLOW STALK
Diane Vallere
A Mad for Mod Mystery (#1)
Interior Decorator Madison Night has modeled her life after Doris Day’s character in Pillow Talk, but when a killer targets women dressed like the bubbly actress, Madison’s signature sixties style places her in the middle of a homicide investigation.
The local detective connects the new crimes to a twenty-year old cold case, and Madison’s long-trusted contractor emerges as the leading suspect. As the body count piles up like a stack of plush pillows, Madison uncovers a Soviet spy, a campaign to destroy all Doris Day movies, and six minutes of film that will change her life forever.
Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon
CLICK FOR PILLOW STALK
Be sure to check out Madison’s prequel novella
MIDNIGHT ICE featured in
OTHER PEOPLE’S BAGGAGE
Kendel Lynn, Gigi Pandian, Diane Vallere
Baggage claim can be terminal. These are the stories of what happened after three women with a knack for solving mysteries each grabbed the wrong bag.
MIDNIGHT ICE by Diane Vallere: When interior decorator Madison Night crosses the country to distance herself from a recent breakup, she learns it’s harder to escape her past than she thought, and diamonds are rarely a girl’s best friend.
SWITCH BACK by Kendel Lynn: Ballantyne Foundation director Elliott Lisbon travels to Texas after inheriting an entire town, but when she learns the benefactor was murdered, she must unlock the small town’s big secrets or she’ll never get out alive.
FOOL’S GOLD by Gigi Pandian: When a world-famous chess set is stolen from a locked room during the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, historian Jaya Jones and her magician best friend must outwit actresses and alchemists to solve the baffling crime.
Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon
CLICK FOR OTHER PEOPLE’S BAGGAGE
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Henery Press Mystery Books
And finally, before you go...
Here are a few other mysteries
you might enjoy:
LOWCOUNTRY BOIL
Susan M. Boyer
A Liz Talbot Mystery (#1)
Private Investigator Liz Talbot is a modern Southern belle: she blesses hearts and takes names. She carries her Sig 9 in her Kate Spade handbag, and her golden retriever, Rhett, rides shotgun in her hybrid Escape. When her
grandmother is murdered, Liz high-tails it back to her South Carolina island home to find the killer.
She’s fit to be tied when her police-chief brother shuts her out of the investigation, so she opens her own. Then her long-dead best friend pops in and things really get complicated. When more folks start turning up dead in this small seaside town, Liz must use more than just her wits and charm to keep her family safe, chase down clues from the hereafter, and catch a psychopath before he catches her.
Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon
CLICK FOR LOWCOUNTRY BOIL
DOUBLE WHAMMY
Gretchen Archer
A Davis Way Crime Caper (#1)
Davis Way thinks she’s hit the jackpot when she lands a job as the fifth wheel on an elite security team at the fabulous Bellissimo Resort and Casino in Biloxi, Mississippi. But once there, she runs straight into her ex-ex husband, a rigged slot machine, her evil twin, and a trail of dead bodies. Davis learns the truth and it does not set her free—in fact, it lands her in the pokey.
That Touch of Ink Page 23