Bad Reputation, A (8 page)

Mrs. Forest brightened. “Why, that would be most acceptable.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jerry said, sotto voce.

“I'll see to it.” I stood up to shake her hand when the cat yowled again. Jerry ran past me and down the hallway toward the back of the house.

Mrs. Forest gasped in alarm. “What's he doing?”

I heard another voice, a slight scream, running footsteps, a crash, and a “Damn it!” from Jerry. Then the back door slammed twice.

Mrs. Forest wrung her hands. “Oh, no, he's getting away!”

What in the world? I hurried to the back. Jerry came limping across the backyard. “What was all that?”

“Her partner,” he said. “The way that cat kept howling I had a feeling someone else was back here, listening in, in case things got ugly.”

“What did you do to your leg?”

“Tripped over the cat.”

“Was it Honor Perkins?”

“I couldn't tell. It was somebody large, though, and whoever it was screamed like a girl. Can I talk now? There are a few things I want to say to Mrs. Forest.”

But when we got back to the parlor, Mrs. Forest was gone.

“Bad leg and all,” Jerry said. “It's a miracle.”

To my surprise, he went back to the kitchen and looked through all the cabinets.

“Do you need a snack?” I asked.

Satisfied with what he found in the cabinets, he checked the refrigerator and then moved down the hall. I followed and watched, mystified, as he looked in all the rooms and all the closets.

“Jerry, what are you doing?”

“A real con woman would be living very light,” he said. “From the look of things, I'd say Mrs. Forest actually lives here. Plenty of food in the kitchen, lots of clothes in the closets and junk that accumulates over the years. Check out the dresser. Family photos, pictures of her cats.” He took a deep breath. “That lived-in smell. Well, most of it's cat, but you know what I mean.”

“Then what's going on?”

“A real con woman wouldn't have all this stuff. She'd fold her tent and get out of town, but I have a feeling Mrs. Forest is just somebody's stooge. She won't leave her cats, or all these family pictures. I don't think she's going anywhere, and if she does, it'll take her a while to pack. Let's go get some lunch and come right back. She won't be expecting that.”

I agreed to this plan. “I want to apologize for doubting you. Mrs. Forest sure had me fooled.”

He grinned. “You gotta watch out for the little old ladies.”

Chapter Nine

We found a diner on Millersberg's Main Street. I was hungry enough to eat some tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich. Jerry reminded me to take the medicine. My stomach hadn't given me any trouble since this morning, but he insisted I try the pills.

“Unless you want me to haul you off to the nearest doctor.”

“No, thank you.”

We gave Mrs. Forest about an hour to return and settle down. Then we went back. Jerry parked the car several houses down and suggested we split up.

“You go in the front. Tell her the police have arrested me and she's safe. I'm going in the back.”

I didn't bother to ask if he could get in. One of his dubious skills is his ability to pick locks. “Don't scare her. You'll give her a heart attack.”

“She's not the one I hope to scare.”

Mrs. Forest was puzzled to find me at her door again.

“Mrs. Forest, good news. The police caught Mr. Fairweather.”

She opened the door a little wider. “Oh, my, well, that's a relief. He frightened me, bounding out the door like that.” She turned and spoke over her shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

I could see someone else sitting in the parlor, a very large woman with long black hair cut in bangs straight across her forehead and keen dark eyes.

“Yes, now say thank you and good-bye,” this woman said.

“This is my niece, visiting me for a few days.”

I didn't think so. “I didn't realize you had company. I won't bother you any longer.”

I figured I'd given Jerry enough time. Sure enough, he appeared from the kitchen.

“But I will,” he said.

Mrs. Forest gave a squeak of terror. The other woman jumped up and appealed to me. “Oh, my God, it's that madman! He's come back to kill us! Call the police!”

“Give it a rest, Honor,” Jerry said. “That's my wife.”

The woman stared at me for a moment and then gave a burst of laughter. “I don't believe it! You can't fool me, Jerry, but I sure as hell fooled you.”

“Not for long.”

Jerry looked as angry as I'd ever seen him. I thought I'd better jump in. “I'm really his wife. Madeline Fairweather. And you must be Honor Perkins.”

She was still chuckling to herself. “The one and only. You've met Denby Forest. Take a bow, Denby.”

Mrs. Forest's eyes darted from Honor to Jerry to me and settled on Honor. “You said there wouldn't be any trouble.”

“And there won't be, right, Jerry? Now we're even.”

“Even for what?” I asked. “I didn't appreciate your joke.”

“Oh, now don't get your knickers in a twist, Mrs. Fairweather. Jerry owed me for a bank examiner swindle. Now we're done.”

“Bank examiner swindle?” Just when I thought I'd heard it all.

Jerry gave me a look to say, not now. “All a big misunderstanding. Honor, if you'd waited where I told you to, you would've gotten your cut.”

She shook her head. “Oh, there was a lot more to it than that.”

Mrs. Forest tugged on Honor's sleeve. “When do I get my money?”

Honor rolled her eyes. “I told you I'd pay you. Chill out.”

Mrs. Forest pointed at me. “This woman's a private investigator. If you don't give me my money, I'll hire her to track you down.”

Honor looked interested. “So that card you gave her was the real deal?”

“Yes, and since I'm not too happy with you right now, I'd take the job.”

She chuckled again. “See what comes of working with amateurs, Jerry? Let me pay Denby off, and then we can talk about old times.”

I'd had enough. “No, if you and Jerry are through playing jokes on each other, we'll go. We have a meeting in Celosia at two.”

“You actually live in Celosia?” she said to Jerry. “I thought that was another one of your cover addresses.”

“I inherited an old house there.”

“Still doing the séances?”

“No, I've reformed, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Aw, a little harmless prank.”

“No, I'm talking about a D and S on Pumpkin Lane.”

She paused. “Oh, really?”

“The woman you robbed is a friend of Mac's. She gave me a good description. Who are you working with? And more importantly, are you crazy?”

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.”

Mrs. Forest tugged harder. “My money.”

“Yes, yes.” She kept her self-satisfied smirk. “It was fun, though, wasn't it, Jerry? Admit it. Nothing like the rush of a good con.”

“Not when I'm on the receiving end,” he said. “And not when you're involved in breaking and entering.”

“Can we talk about this later?” She pried Mrs. Forest from her arm. “All right, all right, you'll get your money. Is there somewhere we can meet?”

“We're going to talk about this now.”

“In front of the—?” She gave a little nod indicating Mrs. Forest, and one indicating me.

“Mac's not a mark and never has been. We can talk outside if you don't want Mrs. Forest to hear.”

“I just want my money,” Mrs. Forest said.

“Pay her off and come on.”

Honor sighed theatrically. “All right. Give me a minute.”

Jerry went out the back door to stand guard while I covered the front in case Honor decided to make another run for it. After a few minutes, she came out the front door and gave me an appraising dark-eyed stare.

“So you're really a private investigator, huh? I thought you were a beauty queen.”

“Beauty queen's not exactly a full-time job. The pay is lousy and no one takes you seriously.”

“But it makes a great cover, doesn't it? Have you solved any crimes?” Her tone bordered on condescending.

“A few. Including murder.”

She backed up in mock fear. “Oh, a tough gal. Not exactly Jerry's style. You know he always went for the baby-doll blondes. What was that woman's name? Olive? Olivia?”

“Olivia.”

“Yeah, he was hanging around her for the longest time. What did you do to pry him away? You must know some pretty good tricks, yourself.”

“No tricks.”

“Well, we ran some great schemes. He's never told you about any of them?”

“He's told about some of his adventures, but he never mentioned you.”

She had a pretty good poker face, but I could tell this bugged her. “Wild times, I'm telling you. What's it like being married to him? Never thought he'd settle down.”

“Never a dull moment,” I said. “Especially when we have to confront his old con buddies.”

“Aw, you don't have to worry about me. I was only fooling around. I apologize if I upset you.” She turned to call, “I'm out here talking to your wife, Jerry.”

He joined us. “Okay, I want details.”

“Nothing to tell,” Honor said. “I did the scope, that's all.”

“Who asked you to? Who are you working with? Nobody in our circle went that big.”

“You know I can't tell you that, Jerry.” She glanced at me. “Sorry about the D and S. Insurance paid for your friend's stuff, didn't they?”

“What's a D and S?” I asked.

“Dinner and a show. It's also called the Broadway. Really kinda harmless.”

“What if my friend and her husband had come home early?”

Honor shrugged. “Everybody hightails it out of there.”

“You were involved only with the setup?” Jerry asked.

“Yes, and what's it to you? You're out, right? No more cons? At least, that's what Rick tells me.”

Jerry hesitated. I could tell he was torn between wanting to help his former partner in crime and letting her deal with the consequences of her shady actions.

Honor pressed another button. “So now that you're a law-abiding citizen, you're not going to rat on me, are you?”

“No. But you can't keep doing this kind of thing.”

“I repeat, what's it to you?”

He took another long pause. I knew he wanted to be loyal to his friends, but wasn't there a limit? I wondered if this was going to be the final cut in that knotty rope that tied him to his con man past. “I guess it's nothing to me. You said we're even, so we're even. Come on, Mac.”

Honor gave him a jaunty little salute, but gave me a look that bordered on hostile. “Till next time.”

Oh, there'd better not be a next time.

***

Jerry didn't say much on the drive back to Celosia, except to express concern that if Honor had moved on to the larger more dangerous cons, he wouldn't be able to help her.

I wasn't so sure we'd seen the last of her. “So all this with Mrs. Forest and the million dollars was just an elaborate prank to get even with you. Is this something you and your friends did all the time?”

“Honor's the only one who got a kick out of conning us. I suppose it made her feel superior. She never could do card tricks or pick locks, and she wasn't the physical type to be a bait girl. Maybe she was jealous.” He rubbed his forehead. “I don't know. I can't believe she's in this deep.”

“I hate to say this, but we should call the police. She could lead them to the people who actually robbed Billie's house.”

“I can't rat on her.”

“But I can. She has to know that's what I'm going to do.”

Jerry heaved a sigh and didn't answer.

***

He was still in a thoughtful mood by the time we arrived at the gallery for the two o'clock meeting. A new window gleamed with the words Celosia Art Gallery in swirling gold letters.

“At least it doesn't say Clarke Art Gallery,” I said. “I don't think that would win him any more fans.”

Rows of chairs had been set up inside. Besides Pamela and the members of the Art Guild, I saw Larissa Norton, her arms folded, her lips in a thin line. I recognized a reporter from the
Celosia News
, the head of the downtown merchants' association, and a young policeman.

Flora was seated in the first row. She was wearing a pink suit with rows of gold buttons and lots of gold jewelry, including the bracelet with the little gold and yellow leaves. She looked gorgeous but maybe a touch too flashy. I would've attempted to be more subtle. The curl of hair was getting quite a workout.

Jerry and I took the two seats next to her. She leaned over to me. “Thanks for sitting with me. I didn't want to come, but Wendall insisted.”

“Everyone will settle down.”

“I don't think Bea Ricter ever will. And Larissa is here. I want to sink into the floor. Why did she come?”

“Just curious, I suppose.”

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere near my ex. She was probably hoping the gallery would be a big flop.”

Wendall stood facing the group. Standing next to him was a severe-looking, dark-haired woman all in black. Wendall held up his hands for silence. “All right, everyone, I know you're anxious to find out more about your new art gallery. We're very lucky to have secured the services of a very fine curator from Parkland's Silver Gallery. Let me introduce Sasha Gregory.”

The dark-haired woman gave a brief nod.

“Sasha and I will be happy to review any and all submissions. Just see her after the meeting. We plan to hold a reception and grand opening next Saturday, where you can see the best artwork Celosia has to offer. Does anyone have any questions?”

Bea Ricter was already waving her hand. “Why didn't you get a curator from here? No offense to Ms. Gregory, but we have plenty of qualified people in Celosia who could run this gallery.”

“Who did you have in mind?” Wendall asked.

“Me, for one! I could run this place!”

A few people laughed and there was a general muttering from the Guild for her to sit down and be quiet.

She glared at the crowd. “I could! What do you have to do? Pick the artwork that goes on the walls, pick the artwork that goes in the display cases. That's all there is to it. I could certainly do a better job than someone who never lived here. She won't know whose work is good and whose is just crap.”

Pamela spoke in a tense whisper. “Bea, please. I think it's a little late to present your case. Wendall's already hired Ms. Gregory.”

“What about Larissa, then? I know they're divorced, but she knows all about running a business.”

“Hush, Bea, for God's sake.”

Bea flopped back into her chair. I wasn't sure it was possible, but Larissa sat even stiffer. Her voice was dark with sarcasm. “Thank you, Bea, but I have no desire to have any dealings with this gallery.”

“Then why are you here?” Bea asked.

“It's a public meeting. I have a right to be here.”

Sasha Gregory raised a slim hand. Her voice, by contrast, was low and calm. “If Sasha may say something.” When she had everyone's attention, she continued. “Perhaps there is some concern that, not being a native Celosian, Sasha will not be a fair judge of your art. Sasha assures you, everyone will have a chance to be represented in this gallery. Sasha will be happy to speak to anyone about this. The goal of this gallery is to advance the universality of art in your community, not exclude artists because of visionary differences.”

No one said anything for a long moment. I wasn't sure how many in the audience understood what Sasha Gregory had said, and the fact that she referred to herself in third person had even given me pause. Jerry was trying not to laugh. Quite a few people gave her narrow-eyed looks, as if to say, “Are you putting one over on us?”

Wendall rubbed his hands together in a satisfied manner. “Well, then, I think that says it all. Any further questions?”

Despite Pamela's efforts to stop her, Bea waved her hand.

Wendall smiled politely. “Yes, Bea?”

She stood up, rearranging her patchwork skirt. “I just wanted to say that although I appreciate a gallery, I don't like the way you steamrolled in and set everything up without consulting us.”