I nodded. “I learned something else this morning.” I frowned. “You won’t like it.”
“Hit me.” Jenna handed Audie a box. “I’m in a good mood this morning. I think I can handle anything.”
I saw a couple of high school girls peeking in the windows. I pointed to the Closed for Lunch sign. “We’d better make it quick. I’ve got customers waiting.” I explained about the homecoming dance. “Well, it seems the rumor mill says Finella was really pushing Brad to get back together. And people think that he got fed up with it and, well, you know, that gives him a motive for murder.”
“I already knew that.” Jenna looked displeased with my lack of progress.
Audie shook his head. “I just don’t see it. Brad told me he ended his relationship with Finella after he became a Christian. He wasn’t sure if she was also a believer, and besides, he felt he needed time to reconsider his priorities.” He dug into his salad. “If anything, he felt bad for Finella. He told me he was praying for her. I don’t see him losing his temper with her.”
“But you never know what might trigger an explosion. We all have our breaking points. Jenna.” I had to ask. “During the time you knew Brad, did he ever show signs of a bad temper?”
“I was in so much of a daze, I might not have noticed.” Jenna waved her hands around. “But no, he didn’t. The other girls were jealous of me. Everybody thought he was wonderful.”
“Wilde would say ‘Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.’”
I saw a protest forming on Jenna’s lips.
Audie raised his hands in mock self-defense. “I’m just agreeing with you that someone in love doesn’t see the object of their affection with twenty-twenty vision. And you’re right, Brad was charming. Of course people liked him.”
“All that most of them knew was that I was Brad’s model.” Jenna opened a bag of brownies and gave us each one.
Her words turned my thoughts in another direction. “Who knew you were lovers?”
Jenna sighed. “Finella.”
Oh, dear. That was one fact I hoped the police would never find out.
“And Noah, of course. The Three Musketeers didn’t have any secrets from each other back then.”
Noah, Dina’s boyfriend, might have guessed the truth about her birth father. His interest in such a younger woman puzzled me, especially since she was the daughter of an old friend. “What happened to your friendship?” As far as I knew, Jenna hadn’t hung out with either of the Musketeers since her return to Grace Gulch.
“I guess you could say I grew up. Having a baby will do that to you.” She laughed at herself. “Finella pulled away from me during my pregnancy. And Noah. . .well, he was the same party animal he had always been.” The bleakness in her voices betrayed the ostracism she must have experienced during those difficult months and years. “And then, later, Noah and I went to different colleges, Finella married Ham and we just drifted further and further apart.”
“What about Noah and Finella? Did they stay friends?” I answered my own question. “No. Ham wouldn’t stand for it.”
“They had stopped hanging out together before we left high school. Noah still fooled around some with alcohol, and Finella just wasn’t into that scene anymore. I guess he must have straightened up eventually, or else I don’t see how he made it through graduate school. When we all came back for our ten-year high school reunion, we were like three strangers. Our lives took very different paths.” Jenna picked a pecan off her brownie. “If the police ever find out the whole story. . .” Jenna sighed. “It will look bad for both Brad and me.”
The high schoolers returned at one on the dot, when my sign said I would reopen, and were knocking on the door.
“I guess that’s our sign that it’s time for us to go.” Jenna’s phone rang while she collected the lunch trash. “The police station. I’d better answer it.” She scrunched her nose and hit the speaker.
I should have told her about the early morning police visit. Too late now.
“This is Jenna Wilde. Yes, Chief. Today? As soon as I can come in? How about 3? Okay. I’ll be there then.”
I already had my own phone out, calling our lawyer.
10
Bob and Mary Grace almost disinherited Louella when she married Louis Hardy. But they only had two children, and they were loath to cut ties with their only daughter.
At the time of her marriage, she was working the Grace Gulch Herald, the daily that her father had founded. The paper developed a strong readership across Lincoln County.
In the end, the Graces divided their worldly goods between their two children. Roland inherited the ranch and the working oil properties. Louella Grace Hardy took over the reins at the Herald and the Orpheum. The paper stayed in the family until the death of Penn Hardy (Louella’s grandson) during the tragic reenactment of the original gunfight between Bob Grace and Dick Gaynor.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Friday, September 15
Georgia agreed to represent Jenna, but too many customers came in during the afternoon for me to worry about their visit with the police. By the time I closed up shop, over half of my formal wear from the ’60s had sold. Several of the girls asked if I carried menswear from the decade as well. I spent a few minutes at the computer, ordering more stock.
Jenna called on my way out the door. “Meet you at the MGM?”
I didn’t ask about her little chat with the police. “See you in a few.”
Jenna and I arrived at the same time. We heard Dina and Audie discussing her script for the Grace Gulch Gold production on stage.
“What do you think—should we go with vignettes about the different cultures that make up our town? I think it might be fun to do something about the Sac-Fox nation.”
“I don’t know. People might like to see some of the more colorful moments in Grace Gulch History. Like the legend of Larry Grace’s lost treasure and the Romeo and Juliet story of Louella Grace and Louis Hardy.”
I wished they would make up their minds. I was running out of time to provide costumes for the play.
“We’re here!” I called out.
“Jenna!” Dina ran and hugged her. “What did they say?”
Jenna sank into one of the plush seats at the front of the auditorium. “They weren’t asking me about the murder. I guess that’s good.”
“But?” I prompted.
“They seem to think I should know something about the recent increase in drug traffic.”
I sputtered, and Audie laughed. “Why would they think that?” He managed.
“You should have seen the chief.”
I could picture the scene. Reiner’s Roosevelt-mustache quivering while he paced the floor in a menacing manner.
“He said drugs started flooding in—his words, I swear—about the time I arrived in town. And surely I have connections to some drug organization south of the border after all those years in New Mexico. All artists are a drug-happy lot, at least in his opinion. If only he knew.” She managed a weak smile. “I made a point of only working with sober artists. Drugs destroy talent faster than anything. But of course, Reiner threw my history with drugs back in high school in my face.”
I could almost hear her thoughts. Will I ever live that down?
“Well, if he ever tries to talk like that around me, I’ll—” Dina gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what I’d do, but I’d give him a piece of my mind.”
“My sweet girl, I don’t need you to defend me. Georgia did a good job of that.”
“I suppose.” Dina’s phone trilled at that point, and she brightened. “It’s Noah!” She left the office for a moment of private conversation.
“She’s been waiting for that call all morning.” Jenna scowled. “She hangs on his every word.”
Dina returned, a smile on her face. “I learned something else this morning. There’s a chance Finella’s death wasn’t murder after all.”
“What’s that?” I couldn’t beli
eve it.
“Well, I got a little out of Frances about the investigation.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I needed an excuse to be at the station while the Chief was grilling Jenna.”
“What did she say?” Get to the point.
“‘This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.’” Audie grinned at Wilde’s wit. “All right, spill the beans. They’re not sure what caused the fire, are they?”
“They’re pretty sure it started with a turpentine-soaked cloth. What you would expect in an artist’s studio? They don’t know whether it was accident or arson. But there’s more.”
I swear she counted to ten before she continued. She had a good sense of drama.
“Dr. Barber isn’t sure what killed Finella. She did inhale smoke from the fire. But she also had received a blow to her head that could have been fatal. If someone had found her in time. . .who knows? I suspect they know more but you know the police. They always hold back something.”
I ran my fingers through my hair—never a good idea, with its tendency to stand on ends like dandelion stalks—and thought through the implications. “So she could have died accidentally. Fallen and hit her head and maybe knocked over something that started the fire.”
We stewed over that. Audie spoke up. “Or someone might have knocked her on the head and left her to die. That’s murder. The same person could have started a fire on purpose to hide what happened.”
“Or someone else could have started the fire.” Jenna offered another opinion.
I groaned. “It’s just like what happened when Vic Spencer was murdered. We weren’t sure if the blackmailer and thief and murderer were all the same person or different people.”
“That’s why we need you.” Dina grinned. “You did such a good job of figuring things out last time.”
Junior chose that moment to press on my bladder. “Be right back.” I dashed for the bathroom.
“You can run but you can’t hide.” Dina’s voice trailed after me. A trill announced a phone call. “It’s Noah!”
I spent an extra minute in the restroom, tugging a comb through my hair and pulling it back into a bushy ponytail. The puzzle of recent events intrigued me, yes, but I had more important things to think about. “Like you,” I spoke to the elbow that rippled along my belly. I needed what little energy I possessed these days to continue working and not much of anything else. But I had promised Jenna and Dina to do what I could, and whatever else, the Wilde sisters stuck together. The Lord is my strength.
Jenna was holding court when I returned. “If the attack on Finella and the fire are two separate events, could Brad have been the intended victim of the fire? We’ve focused on who had a motive to kill Finella. What if we’re looking in the wrong place?”
“Let me play the devil’s advocate for a moment.” I rejoined the circle. “The police might think Brad killed Finella and then set the fire to hide the evidence.”
Both Audie and Jenna shook their heads. “An artist wouldn’t destroy his own work. No artist I know would do that.” Jenna spoke from experience.
“I agree.” Audie leaned forward. “And specifically not Brad, not on this project. He had invested too much of himself into making it succeed.”
Three pair of eyes trained on me, demanding action on my part. I asked the question that occurred to me in the bathroom. “What are you asking me to do? To look for Finella’s murderer? Or to figure out where Brad has disappeared to?”
“Why stop there?” Audie grinned at me. “Why not look for the arsonist and people with grudges against Brad while you’re at it?”
I shook a mock fist at him.
“My priority is to find Brad and get his side of the story,” Jenna said.
Dina nodded in agreement.
“Okay. I need a steno pad.” I tried to get up but only collapsed back in the seat.
“I’ve got an extra. I’ll even give you one of the Herald’s super-duper pens.” Dina pulled the items out of her purse.
Audie stood and offered me a hand to help me up. “I hate to bring this brilliant brainstorming session to an end, but Mother is expecting us home for supper.”
“At least give us an assignment,” Dina begged. “I want to do something.”
“Let me think.” Brilliance escaped me for the moment, and I grasped at straws. “When will you see Noah again?”
She blushed. “This evening, for supper.”
“I expect he would tell you more than he would to the rest of us. He and Finella were two of the three Musketeers. See if he has any ideas on who might hold a grudge.”
“Besides me, you mean?” Jenna laughed. “Okay, Miss Marple, what do you have in mind for me?”
I was glad I had anticipated the request. “Check your contacts. See if there’s any jealousy floating around about Brad, or if anyone from the art world was near Grace Gulch on Tuesday.” A successful artist must have rivals, but I didn’t expect much to come from that line of questioning. The odds that an outsider would sneak into Grace Gulch and set fire to Brad’s studio at the exact moment Finella lay there unconscious were slim to none. But I couldn’t think of anything else for now.
“Madame General, what are my orders?” Laughter brimmed in Audie’s beautiful eyes.
“Mr. Director of the Center for the Arts, the police might let you get into the studio.”
“You can out-investigate the police at the crime scene?”
“Not me. You. You might notice something out of place.”
“Am I looking for something in particular?”
“Yes.” I explained what I hoped to find. “Although we might as well all look. If Audie gets permission, how about in the morning, before I open the store?”
Everyone agreed.
Audie’s comments stayed with me as we drove to the house. Why had he called me Madame General? Had Audie married a woman just like dear old mom?
That scared me even more than chasing down another murderer.
11
During the Great Depression, Bob Grace not only kept the Circle G going but bought a lot of the land around it. Between his increased land holdings and oil rights, he amassed a modest fortune. His son Roland took to ranching as Louella did to the arts. Like his father, he didn’t have a lazy bone in his body. The Second World War interrupted his courtship of Gwennie Kirkendall. He fought in the Pacific theater and hurried home as soon as peace was signed with Japan. Roland and Gwennie made their contribution to the post-war baby boom with the arrival of three children a year apart: Magda, Ron, and Curtis.
Neither Magda nor Ron expressed any interest in running the family ranch. Curtis managed it for years after his father’s death, before he and his bride of twenty years died in a tragic airplane accident. Their young son Cord took over the ranch as soon as he finished college. The Circle G is currently still in operation, handled by Cord Grace and his bride, Frances Waller.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Saturday, September 16
I wasn’t sure if Audie could get permission to enter the burned-out studio, let alone on a weekend, but Frances came through for us. We decided to go by on the way to work on Saturday.
Gilda surprised me by volunteering to fill in at the store while Audie and I sifted through the ashes. She even offered to stop by and pick up some of Jessie’s sticky buns, more popular than ever with Dustin’s honey.
My goodwill toward my mother-in-law lasted until she studied my black mock turtleneck sweater and maternity jeans. Her comment of ‘At least soot won’t show. I just hope being around all that fire won’t hurt the baby’ reignited my resentment. I didn’t need her to echo my own fears. Then again, if we shared the same thought patterns, maybe we were more alike than I had realized at first. Scary.
Audie and I stared without speaking at the blackened structure that had once held Brad’s studio. The gleaming walls of the Center for the Arts, white except for those portions of the mural he had already completed, formed a dramatic backdrop to the ruins. The
black-on-white setting made it difficult to envision the myriad colors Brad planned for the mural.
“I wonder what will happen to the mural now.” The stark reality pushed the question to the front of my mind.
Audie stuck his hands in his jeans pockets as if he didn’t know what else to do. “Of course we have Brad’s proposal. But. . .”
Without the artist, what good was it? Like any creative work in progress, the final product would have differed to some degree from the original concept. “He kept coming up with new ideas. Every time we talked about costumes, he’d make a sketch or a note and mumble something about how to incorporate it into the mural.”
I heard a car door slam behind us. High heels clacked across the pavement. Jenna.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your plans.” Her voice rose higher than usual as she came up behind me. “I didn’t find out until I called the store and Gilda said you were coming—”
The sight of the burned-out shell of the studio stopped her in mid-sentence, and she turned as pale as the walls of the Center for the Arts. I hadn’t prohibited Jenna from coming to the crime scene with us, but I’d thought she might prefer to stay away. I imagined the same video played in all our minds: murder and arson, a story that got uglier every time it replayed.
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my stomach as much to calm myself down as Junior. “We might as well get started.”
“I don’t see how you expect to find anything.” Audie stared at the ashes as if the wind might stir them into an image of the murderer. “After all, the police have already been through everything.”
“The police were looking for evidence of arson and murder.”
Before I could continue, Jenna spoke up. “Whereas we are looking for clues as to why Brad disappeared. Or where to.”
“And of course, to see if we can salvage anything about the mural.” I pulled a white scarf with black polka dots from my jeans pocket and tied my hair back. “Let’s get to it.”
“Put this on first.” Audie handed me a medical mask that probably had been used as a play prop at some time or other. He also offered gloves. “To avoid smudging things any more than necessary.” I started to object, but then I decided he was right. I didn’t want to breathe in ashes anymore than I liked to breathe dust at home.
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder Page 7