Bad Reputation, A (12 page)

She eyed me. “Those children are here every day. Doesn't that annoy you?”

“No, I like them, and they keep Jerry occupied.”

“I don't see how you stand it.”

Mom doesn't have to say much to rile me, but the tone of her voice made it difficult for me to control my temper. “Oh, I've gotten used to it. In fact, Jerry and I are talking about having some children of our own.”

It's not often that my mother is speechless. She stared at me for a long moment and then said, “I didn't think you wanted children. I thought that was the main reason you left Bill.”

“Bill left me, Mom, and there were lots of reasons.”

“But this is absurd, Madeline! I don't believe you.”

If I could've popped a baby out right then, I would've gladly done it. “I guess you don't want to be a grandmother?”

“That's not the point. I'm just not sure you're ready to be parents. You and Bill could've managed. He has three now, did you know? I believe I heard something about a fourth.”

“Yes.” Bill always sent me an announcement.

“But to raise a child here, with your limited funds and limited future? I don't think so.”

The limited funds I agreed with. The limited future was a slam. “Celosia's a great place to raise children. It's very safe.”

“Excuse me, but since you've moved here, at least three people have been murdered. Four, if you count Wendall Clarke. I don't call that very safe.” She leaned forward, hands clasped together. “I didn't come out here just to see the gallery. I have a proposal for you, and if you're smart, you'll agree.”

What was this?

“I have friends on the Arts Council board in Parkland. In fact, I have quite a lot of clout in that organization. I can get you a position at the Parkland Museum of Fine Art. I also have connections at the English Manor Townhouses in my neighborhood, and there is a vacancy. You and Jerry could move in next week. He can commute to Celosia until this music director job is through. I can't imagine it would last very long, anyway, and then we'll see about finding him something suitable.”

I realized my mouth was open. I took a breath. “In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a grown woman, a married woman, with a home and an occupation of my own.”

“I'm only trying to help you.”

“No, you're trying to control me, which is what you've done since I was born, but those days are over.”

“Madeline—”

“Listen to me. Really listen. I hated those pageants, but I did them because it made you happy. What little girl doesn't want to please her mother? Now I'm doing what makes me happy. I can't be responsible for your happiness because you are never truly happy. Are you?”

“That's nonsense.”

I was going to have to play dirty. “You've never said a word about my father. What did he do to make you so miserable?”

She pushed back her chair and got up. “If the gallery's closed, then there's really no reason for me to stay, is there?”

“Don't go. Stay and explain this to me. I want to understand.”

“You know your father left us when you were born. I had to take charge. I had to be in control of everything. Otherwise we would have had nothing.”

“I'm glad you took care of us then, but you don't have to take care of me anymore.”

“I believe you've made that abundantly clear. I'm going home.”

I wasn't going to beg her to stay. I helped her carry her things to her car.

True to form, she hadn't given up. “For God's sake will you stop fooling around with these murders? It's not…” she groped for the right words and settled on “proper behavior.” I knew she wanted to add “for a young woman who might still become a pageant winner or a prominent artist.”

“It's what I want to do.”

She looked at me as if to say “How did I raise such an unnatural daughter?” But she replied, “Just be careful.” Then for a moment, her guard was down, and I saw real pain in her eyes. “You're all I have, you know.”

I had to swallow a sudden lump of emotion. “I know.” She gave me a brief hug and got into her car. She drove back down the driveway. I sat down in a rocking chair and took another deep breath. This encounter with my mother had brought up some dark details. I'd known for some time that my mother's marriage had gone off the rails, and she'd refused to have anything to do with men unless she called all the shots.

In her own way, she really cares about you, I told myself. You can't fault your mother for wanting to be in control. Isn't that what you want to do? You've never seen any similarity to her before, but it's pretty clear you inherited her insane determination to have things your way.

That was going to change.

Chapter Thirteen

After a while, Jerry drove in. He took a large box out of the trunk of the car and carried it up the porch steps as the kids bounded around him.

“Is that the famed Wow?”

“It is. We're going to set it up right away.”

“Jerry got the advanced version,” Austin said. “It has extreme everything.”

Jerry looked around. “Where's your mom?”

“She went back to Parkland.”

He handed the box to Austin. “Go ahead and unpack it. I'll be right there.” When Austin and Denisha had gone into the house, he turned back to me. “I thought if I got the kids and myself out of the way, you two could have a heart-to-heart.”

“There was little heart involved. She had a grand plan, a job for me in Parkland, a townhouse for us, everything nice and neat and controlled. I had to go to the dark side and bring up my father.”

“What did she say about that?”

“I know she raised me on her own, and that was tough for her, but she'll never understand that money doesn't mean the same to me. I've got you and this house and I'm managing my own career. You've got your music and all your schemes, legal and otherwise. Mom never got satisfaction out of anything except my titles and tiaras. She never found out who she was and what she wanted.”

“I take it she didn't like all this psychoanalyzing.”

“Three guesses why I have to be the queen of everything.”

Jerry pretended to think. “Well, let's see. You were born a princess, you learned from the best, and you're just naturally bossy.”

“I command you to kiss me.”

“No problem, your highness.”

One kiss led to two and then three, and there would have been many more except for a clamoring from the living room.

“Jerry! Come on!”

I sat on the sofa while Jerry and his assistants hooked up all the wires necessary to run the Wow on our TV. The kids argued fiercely over which game to play until Jerry said, “Let Mac decide.”

I looked through the colorful instruction book and chose Extreme Dirt Biking, which was met with extreme approval. After watching the kids navigate the course, crashing and rolling, I went back to the porch to make some phone calls. My first call was to Flora.

“I'm just checking to see how you're doing.”

She sounded okay. “Thank you so much, Madeline. I'm all right. I've just been going through Wendall's things.”

“Would you and your sister like to come over for dinner? Maybe take a little break from what must be a very sad job?”

“That's so sweet of you. I'll see what she says and call you back.”

Then I called Larissa and asked her what she did after she left the gallery.

She was still defensive. “What do you mean, what did I do? I went home.”

“You admitted you broke up Bea's picture frames. I know you didn't do that with anyone watching. When did you say you went back to the gallery?”

There was a long pause. “Around four-thirty, maybe five o'clock.”

“Was anyone there?”

“No.”

Sasha Gregory had told me she left at four. “How did you get in?”

“The back door was unlocked.”

“You went in, tore up the frames, and then left?”

“I thought Wendall might be there. I was going to talk to him.”

“About?”

“About the gallery, of course.”

All of this sounded very unlikely. “Why didn't you just call him, or go to his house?”

“I didn't want to have any possible contact with Flora.”

“So when Wendall called you later that evening, you were more than ready to talk with him.”

“Yes, I was.”

“You didn't meet or talk with anyone in the gallery at four-thirty, five o'clock?”

Another pause. “No.”

“Where did you park?”

“What?” she said.

“Where did you park? When you came to the gallery last night, you parked around back.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Did you park in the back at four-thirty?”

“No, I parked out front. There were plenty of spaces then.”

“Did you notice any other cars?”

“No. I didn't notice. What are you getting at?”

“Maybe nothing,” I said. “How long were you in the gallery?”

“Just a few minutes.”

Long enough to wreck Bea's frames. “And you went straight home after that?”

“Yes. Is that all, Madeline? I have to go. Reagan Marshall is here for her piano lesson.”

“Making up for the one you missed yesterday?”

“Yes. Good-bye.”

Just to cover all bases, I called Sasha Gregory and asked her what kind of car she drove and if she'd noticed any other cars in the back parking lot. She told me Sasha owned a black Ford Taurus and had parked in front of the gallery, so Sasha didn't see the cars in the back.

“Did you lock any of the doors when you left?” I asked.

“No, but Wendall was leaving at the same time, and he had a key.”

“Do you know if he locked the back door?”

“He followed Sasha out the front and locked that door. Sasha doesn't know if he locked the back.” She paused. “You know, Sasha remembers now he told her his key only fit the front door, and he was going to have to get a key for the back.”

“So there's a good chance the back door was never locked.”

“That's true.”

So anyone could get in.

Jerry came out as I was pondering my next move.

“Things are getting too extreme in there for me,” he said.

“I doubt that.”

“How's it going?” he asked. “Tell me what you found out from Larissa.”

“Around eight o'clock last night, Wendall called Larissa and told her to meet him at the gallery. He had something to tell her. She arrived about eight-thirty and found him dead. She says she doesn't know what he wanted to talk about. I also talked with Bea Ricter, who says she brought some work with her to the gallery yesterday afternoon. Larissa admits to breaking up the wooden frames around four-thirty, but she swears Wendall was dead when she arrived for their meeting later that night. Bea was with Ginger last night, so she has an alibi. Oh, and I found this.” I took the gold button out of my pocket. “Do you happen to remember if there was a button like this missing from Flora's pink jacket yesterday?”

“Sorry. I don't remember. Where did you find it?”

“On the other side of the fence behind the gallery is a parking lot. The owner of the gift shop found this yesterday and she remembers seeing a dark blue Honda in their parking lot.”

“Why would Flora be back there?”

“Good question.”

Jerry sat on the porch rail and examined the button. “Well, this looks like it could've come off a man's suit.”

“A little gold button like that?”

“Off one of the cuffs, I mean.”

“Oh. Yes, I guess it could.”

“Which doesn't really help you, because women wear men's clothes all the time.”

“And all the members of the Art Guild are women. Oh, speaking of things that sparkle, when I went to Bea's house, I found a plastic bag full of silver spacers in her yard.”

“Spacers? For her teeth?”

“Not that kind. Silver or gold pieces that you put between beads when you're making bracelets or necklaces. I also caught a glimpse inside her house, and it looked like a treasure chest had exploded.”

“Bea's a jewel thief? Great news.”

“This is Celosia, remember? I think we would've heard.”

“Okay, so it's her hobby.”

“But she never wears any.”

“Then what was all that about at the gallery meeting? Did she make the bracelet Flora was wearing? And how did Wendall get it?”

“Maybe it's a keepsake from their high school days. Doesn't Bea strike you as someone who would like to flaunt her jewelry-making skills, especially to all the other women in the Art Guild?”

“Maybe it's crappy-looking jewelry.”

“I want to find out, but I used up all my questions, and I've been warned off her property.”

Jerry's eyes lit up. “This is a job for Con Man!”

“I just need a peek, that's all.”

“I will arrange a peek for you.”

“A legal peek.”

“You bet.”

I took out my phone. “Let me try Flora again. If she's home, I'll visit and see if I can get a look at her pink jacket.”

Flora wasn't home. I put my phone away. “I imagine if the coroner's finished examining Wendall's body, she might be making funeral arrangements.” How sad, I thought. The gallery opening—Wendall's attempt to make things right with his old friends—was going to be a grand affair. And now Flora had to deal with her husband's murder—unless she had something to do with it.

I didn't like going down that particular road.

Jerry noticed my frown. “Something else?”

“Well, I have to think like an investigator here and toy with the idea that Flora could've killed Wendall.”

“She would've had to have jumped pretty high.”

“And what's her motive? She'll probably get all his money, anyway.”

“You're getting the look you get after going a couple of rounds with your mother.”

If I'd thought about it in time, and if I had asked him, Jerry would have borrowed someone's baby for Mom's visit. I had the wild notion of plopping it into her arms just to see how she would react. “My mother doesn't think you and I would make good parents.”

“We won't know unless we try. Let's have a baby just to spite her. Spite Fairweather. It has a ring to it.”

I had to laugh. “Would that be Spite Shilleeta, or Shilleeta Spite?”

“I can't decide. Let's have twins.”

“Let's not,” I said. “Where did you put Honor?”

“You know that failed housing development called Tinsley Acres? I told her she could park her car behind one of those houses. No one ever goes out there.”

“Did she tell you what she wanted?”

“No, and it doesn't matter. I'm not doing it.”

“She said she had some dirt on you, so you'd better come clean right now.”

“I'm not only clean, I'm bleached. She has no hold on me whatsoever.”

I really wanted to believe that.

***

Flora called to say her sister couldn't come to dinner but that she would welcome the distraction. I hoped she would wear her pink suit so I could have a look at the buttons, but she was more properly attired in black. I'd chosen a dark blue dress, and Jerry had on a suit and one of his calmer ties, a dark purple one with little yellow stars. The dining room was one of the few rooms in the house that hadn't needed much renovation. Nell had painted the walls a pale yellow and refinished the dark walnut table. There were six chairs, all decorated with roses carved in the scooped backs and yellow needlepoint cushions, also patterned with roses.

Jerry made a delicious-smelling chicken casserole and a tossed salad. We sat down at the table and passed our plates to him for the casserole.

“How's your investigation coming along, Madeline?” Flora asked.

I handed her a full plate. “I have a few leads.”

“Have you spoken with Larissa? And Bea?”

“Yes. Both of them.” I took my plate. “Thanks, Jerry. This looks wonderful.”

Flora looked down at her dinner. “Such angry women.” Her voice caught. “I wish Wendall had never come back to Celosia.”

“Did he ever tell you specifically why he wanted a gallery here?”

“He wanted the town to have something grand.” She wiped a few tears away. “Could Larissa have killed Wendall? Could Bea Ricter?”

“Whoever killed Wendall had to be fairly tall. That rules out Bea and most of the members of the Art Guild.” And you, I thought. “It's also possible Wendall surprised a thief trying to break into the gallery, or someone else from his past who held a grudge.”

She gave me her best wide-eyed look. “I can't believe that. I always got the impression that in high school he was a big fun-loving guy who was very popular.”

From what I'd learned about Wendall in high school, if he'd been a Wow game, he'd be Popular Extreme. “We'll figure it out.”

“What will you do now, Flora?” Jerry asked. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

“I'm moving in with my sister until everything's taken care of. I certainly don't want to stay in Celosia—no offense.”

After dinner, she thanked us, and said she was going to her sister's that evening. “I don't want to be in that house anymore. I'll come back later and go through Wendall's things. You'll call me if you find out anything, won't you, Madeline?”

“Yes, right away.”

Jerry and I were walking her to her car when, to my exasperation, Honor Perkins drove up. She gave Flora a long hard look, which Flora ignored. She got into her car and drove away. Honor got out of her car, and I was about to tell her to leave when she said, “Well, that's very interesting. What's she doing in town?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Your dinner guest. The grieving widow. Lizzie Bailey.”

“Lizzie Bailey? Don't you mean Flora Bailey, who is now Flora Clarke? You know her?”

Honor leaned against her car. “Lord, yes, I know her. We used to call her Bailout Bailey, because that's what Stan had to do every six months or so. She nearly ruined him. What's she doing in Celosia?”

“Honor,” Jerry said, “are you telling me Flora Clarke is on the game?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“I knew something was up! That hair tug was a dead giveaway—which she didn't do during dinner, did you notice that, Mac? But why didn't I recognize her?”

“Oh, she's a pro. Our cons were way too small to interest her.”

My suspicions about Flora didn't include this. “You think she's running a con?”