Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders (7 page)

We pondered that question while we each took another bite. “Audie may have a list of references,” I said. “I’ll ask him.”

When we finished the cobbler, I paid for the check. What else did I expect, eating out with two college students? To give Dina credit, she left the tip.

“That’s enough for one day. I need to get back to work,” I told the girls when we buckled into my Civic. I checked my side view mirror and glanced over my shoulder. A van approached on the highway, but the van didn’t signal its intention to pull into the diner. I backed out of the parking space.

Crunch. I heard the sound of a taillight shattering, and the car rocked a little. The van I had expected to move down the road had instead turned into the parking lot—and the back of my car.

7

From: Elsie Holland ([email protected])

Date: Sunday, April 20, 9:39 PM

To: Cord Grace ([email protected])

Subject: Parking tickets?

Last month your truck failed the emissions test. You spoke with Officer Frances Waller and mysteriously received your renewal tag. Did you fix the problem. . .or the police?

Expect further communication from me on the subject.

Monday, April 21

I stopped the car and rid my mind of angry thoughts about irresponsible tourists.

Sure enough, the license tag indicated the driver came from out of state. Route 66 brought business to our county, but it also brought people who ignored traffic laws. The van driver had already pulled into an empty space, and a family with two small children, a rarity at a restaurant at midday, piled out. They appeared oblivious to the damage they had done to my car.

I sighed. My windshield suffered enough damage from the county’s dirt roads; now I’d have to replace the taillights, too. Oh, well.

“What are you doing?” Dina’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

Peppi had already unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. She ran after the van driver, a young mother not much older than she, and screamed, “Hey! What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you look where you’re going?”

The woman paused in mid-stride, holding on to her children’s hands. “I’m sorry?”

“You ran into my friend’s car.” Peppi got a few inches away from the stranger’s face.

Dina and I stared at Peppi, then at each other.

“Bounced us around in that car like ice cubes in a glass.” Peppi didn’t lower her voice. “What are you going to do about it?”

I’d heard enough. I got out of the car. “Peppi.”

She didn’t budge, but instead pulled out her cell phone and started dialing.

I darted forward and grabbed the phone before she could finish dialing. “Peppi, please. I'll handle this.” I turned to the startled family.

Two toddlers clung to their mother’s skirt, their last defense against angry strangers.

I sought to soften their worry with a smile. “Excuse me, ma'am, I'm sure you didn't realize you dinged my car when you turned into the parking lot.” I thought about apologizing for not looking, but I’d be lying, and I might open myself up for trouble. “We need to exchange insurance information.”

“We—collided?”

Peppi sputtered.

“Look at my taillight.” I spoke before Peppi could interrupt.

The mother studied the shattered plastic and appeared to take in the situation for the first time. Together, we looked at the front bumper of her van. Sure enough, we found a splinter of red glass that matched the center point of my broken taillight.

“I’m so sorry,” she stammered.

Beside us, Dina coaxed Peppi back into the Civic. I exchanged insurance information with the woman. By the time I sat behind the steering wheel, Peppi’s tirade had subsided to muttering under her breath.

We drove in silence for a few minutes while I waited for an apology from Peppi.

“Why did you let her get away with it?”

So much for an apology
.
“I have her insurance information.” Although the more Peppi carried on, the less I wanted to pursue the matter.

“Careless drivers like that woman cause a lot of damage. Be sure you report her.”

Why won’t she let it go?
“My car, my choice.” I would think twice before inviting Peppi to accompany us again.

“Whoa, ladies,” Dina piped up. “Don’t worry, sis, Peppi overreacts to all kinds of things. Pop quizzes, last minute changes at the paper—”

“But it’s not right.” Peppi spoke in self-defense, then shrugged. “Guilty as charged.” She settled into the back seat and didn’t speak of the accident again. An hour later we pulled into the parking lot behind the store.

“Anyone want some tea? Water?” That was me, always playing the perfect hostess. Although I wished Dina would take Peppi and disappear, I knew how thirsty we all were. The girls followed me into the storeroom. Dina fetched the bottled water while I listened to my messages.

Audie had called to remind me of the play rehearsal that night. The second call came from Frances Waller.

“Cici. I’ve got good news for you. Mrs. Mallory called up Chief Reiner, and he’s agreed to let you go ahead and have the pearls back for the play as soon as we’re done testing them. They should be ready on Thursday.”

“That’s great!” Dina had heard the message. As props person for the theater, she had goggled at the chance to use the Mallory pearls in the production.

“Some people think they can get anything they want.” Peppi dipped her napkin in the water and wiped it across her forehead. “Only a Grace could get away with that. And only in Grace Gulch.”

Here we go again. Peppi sounded ready to start another tirade, this time against the special privileges afforded to Magda Grace Mallory. Peppi’s attitude didn’t make sense. She sounded for all the world like a Gaynor holding a grudge against a Grace—a feud harking back to the founding of our town—although as far as I knew she had only recently moved to town and wasn’t related to either clan.

The cold drink seemed to soothe her, and she let it go without further comment. “But I’m not complaining. I get to wear the pearls in the play.”

“I don’t care who pulled strings. I’m just glad we get to use the pearls. Only think.” Dina’s hazel eyes danced. “You should auction the pearls to the highest bidder. They’d bring a good price now that they’re evidence in a murder investigation.”

“The theater could use the funds.” Even so, I would hold on to the pearls for a while. The police might change their minds and want them back for the trial.

In fact, that was what Frances implied. I had them back—for now. Oh, well. Eventually I could sell them to make a tidy profit for the store and the theatre.

“I know what I’ll do.” Dina pulled out her steno pad and made a note. “I’ll write a piece for the paper, how the pearls that Peppi is wearing in the play are the same ones that were discovered with Spencer’s body. That ought to sell a few more tickets. People will want front row seats, just to ogle them.”

Peppi laughed at that, and the earlier uneasiness I felt about her dissipated.

“Are we going to check out more pawnshops tomorrow?” Dina asked.

Peppi shook her head. “I’ve got classes and work, and then there’s my aerobics class at the gym. I can’t make it.”

“You work out all the time. You can afford to miss one class,” Dina chided her friend. “But you’re right. Work and school for me, too.” Her hazel eyes warned me not to go sleuthing on my own.

The girls left a few minutes later, and I debated about what to do until the rehearsal started. Since they wouldn’t wear costumes until the last few rehearsals, I didn’t need to attend these early run-throughs. But I enjoyed watching Audie at work. He had a knack for getting the most out of his amateur actors, even people like Reiner, who portrayed a police officer in the play. Audie had teased me about coming to the theater every night. I smiled when I remembered the conversation.

“Watch out. If you come here any more often, you’ll catch the acting bug.” Audie’s eyes had swept over me as if assessing me for a role.

I blushed under his appraisal. “The only thing I want to catch at the theater is the director.”

In answer, he kissed me.

Before tonight’s rehearsal, I went home long enough to mix together a cold pasta salad for a late supper, and then I headed over to the MGM.

The same soupcon of pleasure the theater always gave me tingled my fingers when I walked into the dark back of the auditorium. Even in the dim light coming from the stage, the room reminded me of the Paris Opera House in Phantom of the Opera, the inspiration behind the design.

As expected, most of the cast had already assembled. I timed my arrival to avoid a barrage of questions from the cast. They would get their chance soon enough at the first break.

The players sounded like a Who’s Who of Grace Gulch, heavily weighted in favor of the Grace family. In addition to Magda, other Graces included Mayor Ron, as Uncle Teddy; my friend, Cord, as Jonathan; and Magda’s son, Gene Mallory, playing the sinister Dr. Gilchrist. Gene’s Shih Tzu dog, Bobo, accompanied him to every rehearsal; Audie joked about listing him with the cast members. Theater regular Suzanne Jay would play the second Brewster sister; she and Magda shared a passing resemblance that made the connection believable. The plum role of Mortimer Brewster had fallen to Lauren Packer. In spite of his vulture-sharp nose and thin lips, he oozed charm on stage.

Like Chief Reiner, Frances Waller had been roped into playing a police officer in the play. When not on duty, she showed at most rehearsals, chatting with various cast members, especially Cord.

Peppi rounded out the cast, the only unknown, but she won the part fair and square with her excellent acting ability. The group made her feel welcome to the community.

The one person missing from tonight’s rehearsal was Magda herself.

Audie stood in the orchestra pit. My poor fiancé attempted to give instructions to the actors, but everyone kept asking him about the discovery of the body. I took pity on him and joined him in front of the stage. “Maybe we should just tell them and get it over with,” I whispered in his ear.

He shrugged, a familiar twinkle dancing in his eyes, then addressed the group. “Yes, I discovered Victor Spencer’s body on Saturday night. Yes, it was the same man who cleaned the theater. Yes, it was murder. Yes, he had Magda’s pearls. No, we don’t know why he was at Cici’s store. And that’s really all we know.”

A chorus of questions erupted on stage, but Audie raised his hand. “And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter for now. Back to work.” He brushed my cheek with his lips, and I headed for the back to prepare drinks for the rehearsal break.

Magda arrived. “Sorry I’m late!” she said in greeting to the assembled cast. She spoke to Audie in a whisper that reached me where I hovered in the wings.

“I’ve been with the police. I confirmed your whereabouts for last night.”

So that’s where Audie was last night. With Magda
.
Relief washed over me. Reiner could stop suspecting Audie in Spencer’s death. I came forward and hugged Magda.

“Thanks!”

Magda stepped back, surprise written on her face. She and Audie looked as guilty as a pair of kids with a broken cookie jar. She shrugged in an elaborate “I-didn’t-know-she-was-there” apology to Audie. A grimace crossed his face.

I didn’t get it. So what if Audie met with Magda last night? After all, she owned the theater and technically was his employer.

Audie didn’t give me time to think about it. He pecked me on my cheek. “I told you not to worry,” he whispered in my ear. Out loud, he called, “Attention on stage!”

With Magda’s arrival, rehearsal could begin. I would have to wait for my answers yet again.

As soon as the actors started rehearsing their lines, I busied myself preparing cold beverages for the break. Whatever the time of year, stage lights kept the stage warm, and it didn’t take long to work up a thirst. So I fixed pitchers of iced tea and water.

The next hour sped by while the cast blocked out the scenes from the first act. The first pitcher of tea disappeared fast; cast members grabbed a glass while they waited for their next cue. I watched the action on stage in between refilling drinks. It was amazing how much attention to detail went into giving a play the illusion of reality. Come opening night, the audience would believe that the set really was the living room of the Brewster home. Dina made notes of all the changes in her ever-present steno notebook.

When Audie called a break, Mayor Ron arrived at the tea table first. He gulped down a glass of water in a single, long swallow. “Feels good to wet the whistle. Thanks.” Ever the politician, he made a point to thank everyone for the smallest favor. I liked the man more than ever for throwing himself into the role of zany Uncle Teddy, an over-the-top performance that would leave the audience in stitches. I toyed with the idea of giving him a toupee to cover his bald head and a handlebar mustache to echo the connection to Theodore Roosevelt and the charge up San Juan Hill. It was hard to believe we had suspected him in Penn Hardy’s death only a few months ago.

Everyone except the mayor plopped in velvet-cushioned seats after grabbing their drinks. He stood in front and raised his voice—one that didn’t need the help of a microphone to be heard.

“My office will be making an important announcement tomorrow morning at nine, in front of the city office building. I hope you can all be there.”