Paint the Town Dead (7 page)

“Nice car,” Louie said of a silver Audi that glided around the corner and headed toward the Lilies Café.

“I thought you were into motorcycles,” I teased because I knew that's why he'd named his dog Harley.

“Hey, a sweet ride is a sweet ride. Have you seen that black pickup with monster tires? Don't know who drives it, but I could do some serious off-roading in that sucker.” He paused, cocked his head. “Although that truck needs a tune-up soon.”

Louie had an eye for cars, but also had an ear for engines. He could identify the big-as-a-boat blue Buick Ida Bollings drove by the growl of its motor, and Eric's dark gray extended-cab truck made a deep hum.

Harley tugged at his leash, and Louie waved as he shuffled down the sidewalk. My cell phone alarm played from my pocket. Time to get home, do my chores, and get on with the day.

I'd promised the Silver Six to come early and help with the table, food, and games setup. After a bowl of frosted wheat cereal, I gave the apartment a light dusting and then a once-over with the vacuum. Amber and T.C. might be short-haired, but they had to be shedding, right? I'm not a total neat freak, but I didn't want my new furniture covered in a thick blanket of fur.

A shower later, I did the makeup and hair thing, and dressed
in a simple denim skirt paired with a blue scoop neck T-shirt and blue flats. Subdued for the blessing ceremony, and appropriate for the rest of the festivities.

Aunt Sherry assured me the critters were welcome, so I loaded them in the white Camry I'd inherited from my mother, and we were off.

*   *   *

What remained of the Stanton ancestral land occupied a full half of a city block near the edge of the city limits. A rustic split-rail fence separated the wide front yard from the street, with the gravel driveway running to the back of the house. The south and east sides of the property were neatly hemmed by pines trees, red buds, and dogwoods in a mini-forest. Aster's herb and veggie garden was on the south side of the house, but it hardly took up any of the huge south and east lawn space with neatly cut native grasses.

The farmhouse itself sat on a slight rise. Wood construction and painted white, the two-story structure boasted a porch that wrapped all around the home, and spilled onto a deck in back. A barn and two buildings a bit larger than one-car garages stood behind the house, all painted barn red. Fred stored the tractor with its riding mower attachment in the barn, and Dab distilled Aster's herbs in one of the outbuildings. In real stills, but redesigned for safety and efficiency by Fred and Eleanor. Yes, Eleanor. She looked like a fashion model, and held an advanced degree in mechanical engineering.

The family cemetery was tucked a short walk behind the barn, bordered by both low fencing and azalea hedges on three sides. In April, the bushes had been a wall of pink flowers. Now, on the first official day of summer, the flowers were long gone, but the bushes still made a nice border of greenery.

My aunt had invited a select group of people to the rededication—Mayor Patrick Paulson, the Lilyvale city councilpersons, Police Chief Gene Randall, and Fire Chief Dan Throckmorton and their spouses. Only the sheriff of Hendrix County had declined because he was out of town.

The Silver Six and I made up the rest of the group.

The blessing ceremony was short and very sweet. Sherry got misty eyed, and she wasn't the only one. When Father Bruce had finished, Aster sprinkled lavender flowers and rosemary leaves at the cemetery gate. Lavender for tranquility, rosemary for remembrance.

That bit raised a few eyebrows. It did mine when I'd first met Aster. Now I'm used to her sprinkling or spraying lavender at the drop of a hat.

The party was in full swing by two o'clock. Half the town seemed to be there at one point or another, and many were strangers. Jasmine showed up with friends from the technical college. Neighbors, church friends, and local artist friends came as well. Although most of the adults simply visited with one another, some entertained the children by playing with toys Dab and Eleanor had bought—a football, soccer ball, and a young child's foam T-ball set. Teenaged boys played with the Frisbee, and the girls took photos I'm sure were instantly posted online.

I circulated along with the Six, meeting new people and reconnecting with those neighbors I'd met in April but hadn't seen much since I moved to Lilyvale. I was surprised that Lorna and Clark Tyler, owners of the Inn on the Square and the Lilies Café, weren't at the party. I wasn't wild about Clark, but Lorna, Sherry, Aster, Maise, and Eleanor were fairly good friends. Then again, the Tylers had an almost full house at the inn with Doralee and Zach, Ernie, Kim, and Georgine there.

I'd just introduced Eric to Doralee and Zach when I spotted my aunt's ninety-three-year-old neighbor, Bernice
Gilroy, standing on her back stoop next door. The woman who pretty much never came out of her small house had taken a liking to me in April, and now she waved at me.

Not a mere friendly wave. I was being summoned for a command appearance.

I excused myself from the group, heaped two paper plates full of finger sandwiches, cookies, and brownies, and went down the front gravel drive to get to Old Lady Gilroy's house.

I'd met Bernice in April when the Silver Six had loaded a box of food for me to deliver to her. Taking meals over wasn't new for them, but they'd warned me she wouldn't so much as crack her front door. So my instructions that day had been to leave the box on her porch.

I don't know why she'd broken her pattern that first day, but as soon as I'd raised my hand to knock, the old woman had thrown open the door, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me inside with such force I'd almost dropped the box of food. The Six had been agog that I'd forged a sort of friendship with Mrs. Gilroy, but the woman had been helpful in solving a murder, and I was grateful. Besides, the lady was a hoot. She'd taken to calling me Sissy, and at first I feared she was confusing me with my ancestress. But no. Though Aunt Sissy
had been much older, Bernice had known and admired my aunt, and had been the first person to liken me to her. Miscalling me was her way of teasing, and I was flattered. Bernice didn't take to just anyone, and I made a point of visiting each time I was at the farmhouse.

I stepped onto the wooden porch and raised my hand to knock. As usual, the door flew open, then she snagged my wrist and tugged me inside. Good thing I'd quickly learned to keep a vise grip on everything I brought to her.

“Come in the kitchen with those,” she said, and I followed her through the dim living room, which held only two wingback chairs upholstered in a hideous, faded plaid, a scarred wood coffee table, and a massive flat screen TV. Did I mention the woman was an enigma?

For a change, the kitchen was flooded with light. Mrs. Gilroy had parted the dull brown curtains at both the back and the side windows that looked onto Sherry's property. The brighter light didn't completely dispel the sadness of the age-dulled paint and yellowed appliances. I'd never asked if the stove-oven combo and fridge were supposed to be harvest gold rather than simply dingy. I'm not that rude, and this woman flat intimidated me half the time.

I eyed the pair of black binoculars on the 1950s kitchen table, a lone chair facing the window. That single chair always tugged at my heart, and today I noticed Bernice's hair looked thinner. I could see her pink scalp.

She clapped her hands in front of my face. “Pay attention, girl. I talk to air enough without you acting like an airhead.”

I chuckled and waved toward the binoculars. “Been spying again?”

“Living vicariously sounds better, don't you think? That big party must've set Sherry Mae back a wad of money.”

I shrugged and placed the paper plates on the table.

Mrs. Gilroy cackled. “Never discuss money, politics, or religion with people you don't know well, am I right?”

“So I was taught, ma'am.”

“I'm not surprised, your mother, Sue Anne, having been Sherry's sister. Well, how was the rededication?”

“Very nice. How have you been? Are you feeling well?”

She cocked her head at me. “It's not nearly as exciting over yonder since you moved to the square, and most of the other neighbors are boring.”

“You mean they aren't worth spying on?”‘

“Don't be fresh.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Did you bring those pictures of the emporium you promised?”

I smacked my forehead. “Shoot, I'm sorry, Bernice, I forgot. I'll bring them next time, and I'll have photos we've taken of the craft presentations, too.”

“You know I'm not getting any younger.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“But I'm not ready to kick off yet.” She cocked her head at me. “I saw that dog and cat you took in running free earlier over yonder in the yard. Fred sure gets a kick out of them, doesn't he?”

“Yes. They'd probably be better off here, but Aunt Sherry hasn't offered to take them.”

“She won't. Last pet she had died shortly after her husband, Bill, did. Got her heart broken twice in about as many days.”

I stared openmouthed. “I didn't know that.”

“No reason you would. How's that handsome detective fella? I hear you had a date with him a few weeks back. Is he a good kisser?”

I blushed. “He's excellent, and he's waiting for me at the party. How about I come back and visit another time?”

“So long as you bring food. And don't come when my programs are on the TV. And don't stay too long like you're doing now.” She shooed me out to the porch, but paused before she closed the door. “There's a storm brewing yonder, Nixy. You be careful.”

I frowned as I walked back to Sherry's. Bernice seemed healthy, but she hadn't once called me Sissy. Was the lack of teasing a sign that Bernice's memory was slipping? I sincerely hoped not.

And that storm brewing bit? I looked up to fluffy clouds dotting an almost painfully blue summer sky. Had she been giving me tomorrow's forecast? Why the warning to be careful? I shook off the skitter of unease that shot up my spine. Mrs. Gilroy was a cagey old gal, but she wasn't a seer.

*   *   *

Ernie and Kim had shown up while I was gone. I'd say they'd crashed the party, but my aunt had invited one and all. I'd rescind the invite if they made trouble, though, and it appeared they were doing just that since Doralee was backed against the double barn doors with Ernie and Kim standing close. Standing far too close, in my opinion.

I hustled nearer as Kim stomped a high-heeled foot and shook her finger at Doralee. When Kim waved her hands, Ernie caught them.

“Stop it,” he said loud enough for me to hear.

“I want that opal, Ernie. Make her give it to you.”

“I can't make her, I don't want to make her, and I'm about done with your harping, Kim. You already have enough jewelry to open your own store.”

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

Ernie and Kim spun toward me, and I had to give Kim credit for not getting her heel snagged in the grass. In addition to the usual bling, she wore skin-tight jeans, a marginally modest camisole, and a beaded denim vest. None of which were appropriate for a small town, casual, family-oriented event. Doralee looked like she might die of embarrassment.

Ernie, dressed pretty much as I'd seen him before, now shook his head.

“No, uh, Nixy,” he said, clearly uncomfortable and barely remembering my name. “No problem here.”

“Nothing you can help with,” Kim snipped.

“Good, that's one less thing on my plate. Y'all enjoy the party now,” I said dismissively. “Doralee, where's Zach? Fred wants to ask him about that gourd box he designed, and Aster wants to see you.”

Doralee appeared more bemused than cowed by Kim, and her attitude toward Ernie came off as long-suffering. Not angry, certainly not frightened. She did, however, look relieved to be rescued.

“Zach had a call from his office, but he should be off the phone by now. Let's find him.”

She walked smack between a fuming Kim and shamefaced Ernie, and linked her arm in mine as we strolled toward the large back deck that linked the house's full wraparound porch.

“Thanks for coming when you did. I knew Kim was single-minded, but I didn't realize she was obsessive. I swear, I have half a mind to sell Ernie the stone just to get them to go away.”

“It must be amazing,” I said mildly, not wanting to pry, but itching with the curiosity bug.

“It is. It's a five-carat black opal from Australia although that's a misnomer if you haven't seen one. The stones actually glimmer with color on a dark background. Mine is red and it appraised as extra fine in quality.”

I didn't know squat about opals, and not much more about any other kind of gemstone, but I heard a touch of awe in Doralee's tone. “I take it that means the gem is pricey.”

“Very. I bought the oval c
abochon
on a whim at an estate sale years ago. I didn't pay nearly what it was worth—not that I intended to cheat the seller, you understand. I simply didn't know the true value, and obviously he didn't either.” She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. “I meant to have it set in a ring for Ernie, but never got around to it. Kim heard about it, and thinks the stone should be his. Or rather hers.”

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Kim marching along the north side of the house. Doralee must've seen her, too. She leaned nearer.

“She wants the gem for her wedding ring.”

“Why? She already wears that huge diamond. Besides, I thought opals were unlucky.”

“Not black ones, and not if the opal is in a setting with diamonds.”

“I never heard that. How fascinating.”

Doralee shrugged. “I suppose if you're into folklore and superstition, it is. As for why she wants the stone so desperately, I don't know. She might not like wearing the ring he had remade for me, but how is having the opal going to be so different?”

“Because she'll believe she bested you?”

“It's as good a theory as any, but I wish Ernie had never opened his big mouth about it. Look, here's Zach.”

He strode toward us from the south side of the yard. “Doralee, honey, I'm sorry about that, and sorrier that I need to leave. The office messed up my expense report, and I have to go to Texarkana to fix it.”

“On a Sunday?” she asked, touching his arm. “You sure that new girl in the office isn't just angling for you?”

He covered her hand with his. “She wouldn't stand a chance, but yes. If I don't resubmit today, I don't get paid this week. You can go with me, or I can borrow the car and be back in three or four hours, tops. I'll bring wine, and we can finish our weekend.”

“I'll stay, and that wine sounds like a plan. Aster put my purse in the foyer. I'll get the car keys. Do you need to stop at the inn for anything?”

“Nope, I'm heading straight out.”

Zach and I followed Doralee into the farmhouse through the back door, waving to Aster as we passed the kitchen, and heading on to the foyer and Doralee's purse. Down the
hall, I thought I heard the front door close softly, but that couldn't be so. I remembered Maise bolting the door to keep people from wandering around the house.

“Oh, shoot, Doralee,” Zach said as she fished her keys from her purse and handed them over, “how will you get back to the inn?”

“I'll take her when I go home,” I volunteered.

“Perfect,” Doralee said. “I have a gift for you, and I forgot to bring it with me today. You can run up to our room with me and I'll give it to you there.”

There was no point in demurring. “That's fine, but do you mind riding with a cat and dog in the car? Are you allergic?”

“Are you talking about those precious pets I saw playing with the children? Heavens, no, I don't mind. I have fur babies of my own.”

I cocked a brow. “I don't suppose you want two more?”

Doralee laughed. “I've got all I can handle. Two dogs, two cats, and a goat.”

“Worth a shot.”

I crossed to open the front door and usher them onto the porch. There they'd have privacy for their good-byes.

The door wasn't closed, though. It stood slightly ajar when it should've been locked up tight.

Shoot. Had Maise forgotten to throw the deadbolt? Even if she had, the door was made of solid, heavy wood. It didn't just blow open. Had someone merely peeked in, or prowled though the house? What with those tools gone missing at the emporium, and now the farmhouse front door unlocked, the Six needed to do a sweep to see if everything was in its place. I sure hoped we didn't have a petty thief roaming Lilyvale.

*   *   *

About three o'clock when Zach left, I saw Ernie and Kim headed down the farmhouse's gravel drive toward the street. I didn't see Georgine with them, but then I didn't recall seeing her at all today. Hallelujah.

I lost track of Doralee for a while, but spotted Lorna Clark chatting with Aunt Sherry. Lorna owned the Lilies Café and the Inn on the Square. The same inn where Doralee and Zack, Ernie, Kim, and Georgine were staying. Why was all of this suddenly starting to sound like a bad French farce?

I started to go greet Lorna, but Eleanor asked me to restock the ice tea. When I brought fresh, chilled pitchers from the house, I saw Doralee again. She stood on the far side of the deck with Ernie. No Kim in sight. As I watched, she put her hand on his chest and kissed him on the cheek. Her expression carried regret. His was just profoundly sad.

He trudged away, shoulders sagging. Doralee turned and was startled when she spied me. Then she met my gaze, and shrugged. “Old habits die hard,” she said cryptically before she gathered two empty food platters and went into the house.

I shoved the scene to the back of my mind. These people would be gone tomorrow. Their troubles were not mine.

My only problem might be missing critters because I didn't see them bounding around the yard as I expected. Then I spotted Amber and T.C. cuddled in an Adirondack chair with a little girl whose leg was swathed in a neon yellow cast. The three of them watched my favorite detective play blindman's bluff with a dozen children.