Case of Imagination (30 page)

“Special delivery, miss. Mr. Amry said to hand it to you personally.” He drove back down the driveway.

I opened the letter, read it, and smiled.

“What is it?” Jerry asked.

I handed him the letter. “A poem from Hayden.”

Jerry read it. “Hey, it makes sense.”

“It’s really nice.”

Jerry read it aloud:

“‘Along dark and twisting paths,

Light glimmers.

Truth revealed

A heart released.

This same heart thanks you.’”

I found a smaller piece of paper tucked inside the envelope. “Here’s a note from Shana. She says he wrote this and then wrote the dedication poem for the new school in about twenty minutes.”

“Great news.”

We sat for a while in silence. Then I said, “Looks like I can’t escape the pageant world.”

Jerry took another handful of cornflakes. “Why do you say that?”

“Without my insider’s knowledge of sequins and hairspray, I never would’ve solved this.”

He shook his head. “I would’ve said it was your artist’s way of looking at things that solved this mystery.”

“Oh, really?”

“The color of a fingernail, the sparkle of a sequin.”

I punched his arm. “Quit hogging all the cereal.”

He passed me the box. “So, are you staying?”

“For now.”

“Taking the office at Ted’s?”

“I’m checking on that tomorrow.”

“Here’s hoping there’s enough crime to keep you busy.”

I thought of my revised Big Speech. Nothing is more important than my relationship with Jerry Fairweather. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find something to work on.”

***

Tuesday morning, Ted made all the arrangements for me to rent the office in his building. Afterward, I strolled over to Georgia’s Books, just in time for Prill’s steamroller entrance. He sailed in, his cape billowing behind. He pointed a long finger at Hayden.

“There you are! Thought you’d get away, did you? Impossible!”

Georgia and I moved aside to give Prill a clear path to Hayden at the counter.

“Hello, Prill,” he said.

“Are you sufficiently recovered to bear the brunt of my outrage?” Prill asked.

“Oh, yes. Go ahead.”

“Why should I bother?” Prill said with a dramatic gesture. “Why should I waste my breath? You know this speech as well as I do.”

“Let’s cut it short,” Hayden said. “I bow to your superior knowledge.” As Prill watched in astonishment, he went to the poetry section and took the copy of
Destinies
from the bottom shelf. “In the window today marked ‘Special.’ And I’ll recommend her to the library committee when we meet next week.”

Prill’s eyes rolled. “You astound me, sir! Am I to understand that you Give Up? You concede? Victory is mine? I am speechless. Completely bereft of speech. This is beyond words.”

Hayden motioned to the phone behind the counter. “Call her and give her the good news if you like.”

Prill began to laugh. “I can’t believe this. Wonderful! You’ve made my day.”

“Quit gloating and call her.”

Prill kept laughing. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Hayden said. “Is she in seclusion somewhere, thinking up more world-shattering ideas?”

“No, no.” Prill stopped laughing, but his eyes twinkled.

I had already figured this out. “Hayden, there is no Emily Nesp.”

“No—?” he began, puzzled. “What is all this?”

Prill dusted his hands. “She’s served her purpose, so now I dispose of her.”

“That lady I saw you with the other day—”

“My great aunt Tilly, in town to buy some toiletries.”

Hayden still looked baffled, so I said, “He made her up.”

Hayden’s voice rose. “You made her up? All this bellowing about her work was an act? And her poems—”

“I wrote them.”

Hayden stared at him. “But why? I didn’t think you liked to play practical jokes.”

“No jokes, sir. I was quite serious.”

“Emily Nesp drove me crazy.”

Prill leaned forward. “No, dear boy,” he said in an entirely different tone. “She kept you sane.”

Hayden opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it.

“Am I right?” Prill said. “She was always good for a laugh, our Emily.”

Hayden looked at him. “You’re right.”

“A bizarre, truly wacky old lady. I shall miss her.”

“I will, too,” he said.

“Never fear! I can always resurrect her, if need be.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hayden said.

“Good. Well, I must rush off and tell the other members of FLUF about your decision. No reneging now! I expect to see
Destinies
prominently displayed when I return.”

“I’ll take care of that right away,” Hayden said. “Oh, and Miss Nesp.”

Prill paused at the door, his cape swirling around him. “Yes?”

Hayden grinned. It was the first true smile I’d seen him smile. “Thanks.”

Prill bowed. “Anything for poetry, sir! Good day.”

***

On my way home, I stopped by the Freers’ house to speak with Augusta Freer. She was a small, dark-haired woman with a pleasant little face.

“You’re the detective, aren’t you?” she said. “You know, I could not believe that Kimberly Dawn would do such a horrible thing. She was somewhat self-centered as a child, but to take that to such lengths. I can’t imagine it.”

“I understand you were Juliet Lovelace’s English teacher,” I said.

“Yes. What a horrible tragedy. She was a difficult young woman, but she had a bright future ahead of her, if she’d only been able to pursue it.”

“She was going into English?”

“No, no. Her real love was art.”

“Really?”

Augusta pointed to a framed picture on the wall. “She gave me that as a thank you present the end of this school year.”

The picture showed three irises, a dark purple, a light purple, and a yellow. The colors were expertly done; the shadowing subtle and effective. I found it difficult to associate this delicate painting with the arrogant young woman who’d tried to alienate everyone around her.

“It’s beautiful. She was very talented.”

Augusta Freer nodded. “She loved to paint and draw, but her mother never encouraged her. I think all this flashy pageant stuff was a way of getting back at her parents.”

I couldn’t take my gaze from the painting. My heart ached for the confused young woman who had such promise.

***

I was still in a gloomy mood when I got home. A large van was parked out front. For a moment, I thought Jerry had changed his mind about the Eberlin house and was moving out. A closer look revealed the van to be a delivery van from Masterson’s Music.

Jerry met me on the porch. I said, “What’s all this about?”

He grinned. “A piano.”

“A piano?”

“Yeah, you know. Big thing with keys. Makes music.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Where are you going to put it?”

“In the music room, of course.”

Two men came out. One handed some papers for Jerry to sign. He signed and gave a copy to one man. “Thanks. Come have a look, Mac.”

We went into the parlor. Gone were the séance table and chairs. A shiny brown baby grand sat at the side windows.

“Thought I’d paint this room yellow,” Jerry said. “Brighten it up.” He gave me a sideways look. “Or you could paint it.”

“I don’t do walls.”

“How about landscapes?”

“We’ll see.” To me, the parlor already looked brighter. Everything looked brighter. “This room’s almost big enough to dance in.”

“Almost.” He sat down on the piano bench. “So, you want to hear a song?”

“You bet.”

“Pull up a chair.”

Instead, I sat down on the bench beside him and watched as he played. He was intent on the keys and didn’t notice how my gaze lingered on his face, on his calm gray eyes. I didn’t recognize the song. He was probably making it up as he went along. But that’s what I loved about him. Maybe his imagination took some crazy turns, but I could live with that, if he’d let me.

I realized he’d stopped playing and was looking at me. There was so much emotion in his eyes it took my breath away. At last I knew for certain he felt the same way about me.

“Jerry,” I said. “I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

“That’s funny,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something, too.”

We sat for a moment. I could hear my heart pounding. I wasn’t sure I could say anything. “Jerry,” I began.

“Mac, let me go first.”

I swallowed. “Sure.”

“Since we’ve come to the house, a lot has happened, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” His grin was slight. “Yeah, I know. Thinking, what a concept. But I’ve been thinking and I’ve been paying attention even when you thought I wasn’t. There’s something I want you to know.”

Oh, my God, he’s going to say it!

“All that with Olivia. I’m not sure what I was doing. I knew she was all wrong for me, I just—well, you know. I’m a total screw-up and can’t get serious about anything, especially about romance.”

I wanted to disagree and assure him he wasn’t a total screw-up, but I was afraid to speak. I’d never heard him talk like this, and I wasn’t sure where he was headed.

Now he looked away. “There’s a reason, Mac. I’ve never told you before, but you deserve to know.”

What could he mean?

“It has to do with my parents.” His face was unusually somber. He took a deep breath. “It’s hard to remember what happened. But I think—no, I’m pretty sure I had something to do with the fire that killed them.”

“Jerry….”

He put his hand over his eyes and gave them a quick swipe before looking at me again. “I can’t believe I told you. I’ve been wanting to for so long, but I was afraid you’d leave, and you mean too much to me, Mac. I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

I took his hand. This wasn’t my moment, after all. The time before, he’d been ready, and I’d missed my chance. Now that I was ready, the time wasn’t right for him. But what he needed was a friend, and for now, the relief on his face was all I needed. “I’m not going anywhere, Jerry. We’re best friends, right? This is just another mystery for me to solve. You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

He smiled. “I’d like that.”

I smiled back and squeezed his hand. Hold on, I thought. Whatever secrets you have, I’ll understand. Whatever happened to your parents, I’ll be there.

Because I love you, Jerry Fairweather.

For a little longer, he would just have to read my mind.

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