Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder (11 page)

17

Leonard Wilde served in Vietnam for four years before settling back at the Crazy W ranch. He married an army nurse like his father had, Penny Rollins, bringing her home to Oklahoma when he demobbed. They had two daughters, Jenna and Cecilia. This author is proud to have been adopted by Leonard and Penny. Unfortunately, cancer claimed Penny’s life in the mid-’90s.

After a few years running the Wilde West Art Gallery in Taos, New Mexico, Jenna Wilde has returned to Grace Gulch as the Director of the Art Museum in the new Center for the Arts. Cici Wilde opened Cici’s Vintage Clothing in downtown Grace Gulch in 2003 and married Audwin Howe, now director of the Center for the Arts as well as manager of the Magda Grace Mallory Theater.

From
A History of Grace Gulch

Tuesday, September 19

The words had no sooner left Enid’s mouth when Suzanne Jay blew through the door. Her mouth formed a perfect “o” at seeing her friend had arrived before her. She repeated the formula to earn her right to the next clue.

“Are we first?” Enid asked. How typical of Enid, to say “we” when she had earned first place all on her own.

“You are indeed.” I beamed at them. “Well done.”

“May I see the locket?” Enid spoke in a timid voice.

“Why not? You’ve earned the right.” I unlocked the case. The fine filigree of the leaf-like chain always impressed me. I had never seen anything so unique or fine.

No man could have understood the fascination the garland held for us. Delicate sculpting, fine details that resembled the first rose of spring, it looked like King Midas himself had touched it and turned a real flower into gold.

“May I?” Enid gestured to the clasp on the locket.

I nodded, and the locket sprung open, revealing miniscule photos facing each other. I could trace Cord Grace’s curly hair and strong chin in Bob’s likeness, and Mary reminded me of Magda Grace Mallory’s timeless beauty.

Dina snapped a picture of the two women exclaiming over the locket.

“Hey, don’t give away the clue!” I reminded her.

“I won’t! But I can use pictures in a feature about the hunt after it’s over.”

I gave her a thumbs-up.

“How romantic.” Suzanne sighed. “But. . .you have another clue for us?”

“You’ve figured out the first three clues in a week. I’m impressed. Only one to go. It might be the hardest yet, but I’m sure you’re up to the challenge.” I smiled at my two friends. “The clue is: ‘Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fattened calf with hatred.’ Proverbs 15:17. May the best woman win.”

Gilda took the locket. As Suzanne and Enid headed for the door, I caught sight of a skinny teen skulking outside the door—Danielle. I knew some seniors got to leave school early; that might explain her presence at midday. “Enid, could I speak to you for a minute before you go?”

She wished Suzanne good luck and came back inside. “Yes?”

“That girl out there on the sidewalk.” I paused, uncertain how to put my concern into words.

“Danielle Newton.” Enid slipped on a pair of glasses and looked more closely. “She’s lost some weight. Why girls today think they need to be as thin as a model. . .”

I shook my head. “There’s more to it than that.” I explained my suspicion about her drug use. “If you know her, or her family, can you speak to them?”

“How sad. I know her mother. Irene Newton, nice woman, a single mother, lives at Grace Gulch Condominiums. I’ll stop by and talk with her.”

Enid probably knew Irene’s birthday, too. She was that kind of woman.

“That’s wonderful. I asked Jean Johnson if she could get one of Danielle’s teachers to talk with her as well, but it can’t hurt to have more than one person involved.”

“You’re a dear. Going out of your way to help the poor girl. Not everyone would bother.” Enid patted my hand and jotted something in a small notebook. “So the next clue is Proverbs 15:17. I’ll have to think that one over. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Howe. Dina.”

She left, and I wondered if she went straight to the Newtons’ home from my store.

Gilda had turned the locket over and was studying the back. “Do you know what the inscription means?”

“There’s an inscription?” Dina leaned in for a better look, focused her camera and snapped a picture. “‘To Mary, my garland of grace, 1.25’ How romantic.”

“Does 1.25 refer to a date?” Gilda asked.

“Her birthday.” Dina said.

“Their wedding anniversary.” I answered at the same time. We knew the history of Grace Gulch’s first couple.

“Which is it? Birthday or anniversary?” Gilda sounded confused. Dina gestured for me to tell the story.

“Bob staked his claim during the 1891 land run. That was in September. A year later, he had proved up his claim, and he wed his beloved Mary on her birthday, the following January.”

“Do you know the birthdays and anniversaries of everyone in Grace Gulch?” Gilda sounded amused.

My mind flashed to Danielle, and how little I knew about her. “Not really. But I researched the history of the garland when Mayor Ron loaned it to the store.” In fact, if Gilda had read the placard by the display, she would have known the details.

“And I’ve been researching it for the play. Don’t worry.” Dina must have seen the frightened look on my face. “We’re not planning to reenact the gunfight again. We had enough of that to last a lifetime. But I did think I would include a bit more of the romance between ol’ Bob and Mary.” She wouldn’t say any more on the subject. She and Audie had kept the play under wraps for the time being.

“Living history.” Gilda handed me the garland. “I might as well go to the house. Unless you need me here?” She must be lonely. She just lost her husband, after all
.

When would I have time to examine the journal Dina brought with her? Soon other treasure hunters would follow in Enid and Suzanne’s footsteps. Dina was giving me all kinds of signs.
When can you look at the journal?
More time with Gilda didn’t rate high on my list of desirable activities.

To my surprise, I heard myself saying, “Actually, I expect a busy afternoon. I could use an extra pair of hands. Maybe you could start a fresh pot of coffee.”

After Gilda disappeared into the office for supplies, I whispered my findings to Dina. “I read through the pages Brad let me copy this morning. Nothing stood out to me.” Something hovered on the edges of my consciousness, but I couldn’t place it. I locked the garland back in the display case.

“Okay.” Dina looked discouraged. “I did talk with Noah. . .”

“Did I hear my name?”

Noah Brodie had never entered my store before, but he looked right at home among the psychedelic ’60s numbers. He ignored the clothing and headed straight for the garland in the display case. “‘She will give you a crown of splendor and set a grace garland on your head.’ May I see the grace garland, please?” He gave me a saucy grin and for a second I could see why Dina found him so attractive.

“Silly. You got the verse wrong.” Dina repeated it with the correct wording.

Gilda reappeared and turned on the coffee maker.

“Close enough.” I studied him while I gave him the next clue. He looked overdressed for the mild fall day, and he sneezed.

“Too much ragweed.” He blew his nose.

Allergies—or something else? With my new insight, he could pose for a poster warning against drug abuse. Did Dina know? Guess? Could he hide it from her? For her sake, I hoped he did indeed have a cold.

“I didn’t expect to find you here.” Noah kissed Dina, the kind that was a little embarrassing to watch. I didn’t want to intervene, but I didn’t have the same excuses not to speak up about Noah that I did with Danielle. My internal struggle gave me insight into why families might not step in sooner. Not that Noah was family, but his relationship with Dina was altogether too close for comfort. First step, I needed to talk with Dina about it.

“So you decided to go for the treasure hunt after all.” Dina said when she and Noah broke apart. “I thought your students decided against it.”

“The scene at the Garland Café inspired me. My muse, do you want to follow me while I go ahunting?”

“You know I can’t do that. I’m the neutral reporter.” Dina kissed him on the cheek.

Noah turned around slowly, surveying the showroom. “You have a nice store here.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Gilda acted pleased at the compliment. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He also took one of the pumpkin muffins. He picked up the jar of Dustin’s honey. “So the Murks have pulled you into their web, have they?”

“Dustin came by to talk about costumes for the hayride.” Their web? The beekeeper had certainly made an impression on the town in the short time since her arrival.

Noah set the jar down. “I’d better go. I’ve got a class at 2.”

Dina looked at me, and at Gilda. No chance to talk in private. “I’ll see you later.” They walked out the door arm and arm, and my heart walked out with them. What to do, what to do.

“Does your sister realize he’s into drugs?” Gilda asked from my elbow.

“What?” I hadn’t expected my mother-in-law to be so intuitive.

“You know Audie went through a bad spell in high school.” Gilda made a face. “Praise the good Lord he straightened out, but I educated myself on the danger signs.”

We didn’t have an opportunity to discuss it further. Mayor Ron came in a moment after their departure. Since he rarely visited my store, he might as well have posted a sign over the door saying “third clue here.” I sighed.

Like everyone else, he headed straight for the Grace garland. He stared at it as if he had never seen it before. “My wife is telling me she wants to wear it later. I just don’t know. I kinda think Frances should have it.”

“Either one of them will be lucky to have such a beautiful piece.” I wouldn’t put myself in the middle of that debate. “You might like to know that I’ve had three treasure hunters come by in the last half hour.”

The mayor’s eyes lit up. “Who?”

“Enid Waldberg and Suzanne Jay, practically at the same time. Noah Brodie just left.” I glanced out the window. “And here comes Georgia Hafferty.”

The mayor frowned at the mention of his lone opposition in the last election.

The lawyer swept into the store. She had the figure for the ’60s styles, but I doubted she would buy anything. She wouldn’t want to appear in court in a dress that looked more than forty years old.

“Hello, Mayor Grace. Mrs. Howe.” She joined us by the display case and repeated the familiar words. I told her the next clue.

Georgia and the mayor chatted amiably when they left a few minutes later. The afternoon continued in the same vein, with someone coming in every ten or fifteen minutes to give me the clue. Of the four clues, the one about the Grace Garland had been the easiest to solve. When the time after school rush started—girls still looking for homecoming outfits—Gilda’s assistance proved invaluable. In between customers, my mind wandered back to the journal. What was bothering me about it? I kept hoping it would pop into my conscious mind.

Gilda left at six to fix supper, and I went to the MGM for a few quiet moments with Audie. Before I left, I grabbed the pages from the Larry Grace journal. Maybe Audie could help me identify the trouble spot.

Nearly a dozen pictures lay scattered across Audie’s desk, giving it a messier than usual appearance. One featured Bob giving Mary the garland. He had photos of the other founding families. Another showed a Sac-Fox maiden in full tribal regalia. Others included families that arrived in later years.

“‘To give an accurate description of what has never occurred is not merely the proper occupation of the historian, but the inalienable privilege of any man of parts and culture.’ I doubt the good folks of Grace Gulch will agree with Wilde, however. Who would have thought it would be so hard to tell the story of one small town?”

“That’s the problem.” I smoothed down the cowlick he had mussed in his hair. “In a small town,
everyone
expects their story to be included.”

“Suppose so.” He grumbled then smiled up at me. “How are my girls today?”

“Junior and I are fine.”

He held me on his lap, or at least tried to. For a few moments I felt dainty and feminine instead of like a pregnant whale. When he shifted his weight, I moved to another chair. “This morning I looked at my copies from Brad’s journal, and I keep feeling I’ve missed something important. I thought maybe a second set of eyes?”

“Of course.” He skimmed over pages where I had lingered over the detailed drawings. When we reached the page with the sketch of the Grace garland, he glanced down the page and started to flip it over.

“Wait a minute! That’s it!”

Audie left the page flat on the desk.

“What does the inscription on the back of the locket say?”

Audie looked at me as if I had regressed to an age before I could read handwriting, but he indulged me. “‘To Mary, my garland of grace, 6.6’”

I could hardly contain my excitement.