Color Me Dead

by Mary Bowers

  I don’t need you; I know what I have to do.

  Around me, the darkness lightened until it was again the normal darkness of the bedroom. Finally, I felt the tension lift. I rolled over onto my side and slept.

  * * *

  Now that I had decided what to do, I needed to get it done quickly.

  I went downstairs the next morning determined to call Frane and set things in motion. By the end of this day, I hoped, it would all be settled.

  I told Michael and Myrtle good morning and poured out a cup of coffee for myself at the back counter of the kitchen.

  Turning and looking at Michael, I said, “I’m going to take my coffee into my office for a little while. I’m going to make that call.”

  He nodded silently and Myrtle pretended she hadn’t heard.

  My office is in the corner of the house, and it’s lined with windows on the east side and French doors on the north. My desk overlooks the river. I closed the door behind me and walked over to put my cellphone down on the desktop. On a narrow strip of wall beside the office door was Carmen’s lovely flower painting. I couldn’t even look at it. For a few moments I stood there gazing out at the river. The sun was still low enough to be shining into my eyes, but I didn’t lift my hand to shade them.

  Then, feeling ready, I sat down in my desk chair and picked up the cellphone. For the first time, I realized Bastet had followed me into the room, because she leapt noiselessly onto the desktop and posed herself like a pagan icon.

  I tapped my cellphone to bring up my Contacts, and at that instant a call came in. It jolted me as if a bomb had gone off in my hand.

  Of all people, it was Lily.

  “Hi,” she said brightly when I answered. “You okay? You sound scared or something.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “How are you today?”

  “I’m here.” There was a confused pause, at least confused on my part. “I mean, I’m here in downtown Tropical Breeze. I’m parked in front of Artwerks. I was right; Carver wanted me to see if I could have another go at Adam, maybe get him to stop looking like a dead guy. Adam said he’d be free this morning, so here we are. Still there, Taylor?”

  “I’m here.”

  “And guess what?”

  I felt weary. “What?”

  “What’s wrong with you this morning? Got a hangover?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on. “You’ll never guess who’s here, too, and I can tell you’re not in the mood so I’ll just tell you: Jesse Mantrell is here, and he’s trying to break my heart. No, not that way – he’s trying to convince me to put him back on camera again. I think he’s bribing somebody at the station to let him know what’s going on, and he found out I was doing a follow-up at the gallery, so he showed up out of nowhere and now he’s trying to get me to let him interview Adam. Is he stupid or what?”

  “Stupid. Definitely. After fooling around with the boss’s wife and telling everybody about it?”

  “And it’s breaking my heart because I know he’d do a good job. I gotta tell you, Taylor, I’m getting headaches from gritting my teeth at the sound of Treena’s voice. Know what we’re calling her back at the office? Screama. Aa-and . . . the joke falls flat. This is where you’re supposed to laugh, darling. Okay, Taylor, what’s wrong with you this morning? I’m done being the bluebird of happiness while you act like you want to go off somewhere and have a good cry. Did something happen? Something else, I mean?”

  “Oh, not really. I’ve just been thinking about Maida a lot.”

  She quivered over the phone; somehow I could see it. “You know, don’t you? You’ve figured out who did it. Quick, tell me – who was it?”

  “We haven’t got it all worked out yet.”

  “‘We?’ We who?”

  “I might be working with Detective Frane, if you’ll let me get off the phone and call him. Hey wait a minute – you said Jesse is there?”

  “Big as life and obnoxious as ever.”

  “Can you bring him?”

  “He’s my lapdog, at least for now. He’ll do anything I tell him to do if I just do some test shots of him interviewing Adam to show to the boss. He’s delusional, of course, but he’s still hoping. What he thinks we’re going to do with Treena while this is going on, I don’t know. Maybe send her out for coffee, which is all she’s really good for. Bring him where? And if I bring him, I’m coming too. That’s nonnegotiable.”

  “You and Jesse, but no videographer and definitely no Treena. I’ll call you back when it’s set up and tell you where and when. How long will you be shooting at the gallery today?”

  “Just the morning. We’re going to try to make it look like we did it the same day, so we’re doing it at the same time, so the shadows don’t flip on us. That way, we can salvage some of the earlier shots. We should be done by lunchtime. Adam wants us done before ten so he can open on time, but that’s not going to happen,” she said complacently. “Especially if we have Jesse step in for additional footage after Treena is done.”

  “Does Treena know that Jesse is there?”

  “Good grief, no. I shoved him into the back room at Girlfriend’s and told him not to step outside until I call him. When I left him, Florence was giving him tea and cookies. I haven’t promised him anything yet, and if Treena sees him I’ll turn him down flat, and I told him so.”

  “Your life sounds even more complicated than mine is right now.”

  “I can handle it. You know me. The more complicated it is, the better I like it.”

  “Well, you have fun with all that. I’ll call you back after I talk to the detective.” I ended the call.

  Detective Frane’s number had been in my Contacts since I’d first met him, that Halloween when our fortune teller had ended up a corpse. I hit the number, mentally composing a message to leave in case he didn’t pick up.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” he said, after answering quickly.

  “Good morning, detective. Listen, I wonder if you could do something for me. I think I’ve got something, and I want to check it out, but to do so, we’re going to have to have sort of a meeting.”

  “The classic gathering of the suspects?” he asked, amused. He seemed to quickly understand that I didn’t want to joke about it. “Sure. Who did you have in mind?”

  “Everybody. Carmen, Joy, Adam – I guess we can’t have Hank. He’s back in New Jersey. But I don’t think we need him, at least, not yet. We’re even going to have the old boyfriend, Jesse. I’ll arrange for him to be there myself.”

  “Jesse Mantrell? I thought he was back in Orlando.”

  “No, he’s here. My friend Lily Parsons brought her TV crew back to town, and he tagged along. She’s going to bring him. I just need to tell her where and when.”

  “Okay, you go ahead and tell me. Where and when?”

  “After lunch. Say 2:00? And we can get together in the back room of Artwerks. It has to be about the same size as the back room of Girlfriend’s, and that’s plenty big enough.”

  “Fine. I’ll get going on that, but you and I are going to talk first. You say you want this to happen after lunch? Then you and I are going to meet for lunch. How about Don’s Diner, at noon.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter 26 – Deception at the Diner

  Things got even more complicated after that, and it was all Lily’s fault. She went rogue on me, and cooked up a sub-plot for the already confused production we were staging.

  She says it was all my fault, since she was only letting Jesse do a test interview so she could bribe him into coming to the gathering I wanted. In order to do that, she had to get rid of Treena for at least an hour, and even Treena was capable of fetching coffee for four in less than an hour. So she was sending her across the street to get a carryout order at the diner for lunch.

  I’d already told Lily I was meeting Detective Frane there, and my job was to keep Treena in the diner for as long as possible. Lily would text me when the coast was clear. What
I was supposed to do if Treena tried to leave too soon, I had no idea. Throw a flying tackle or something.

  I was mad about it at first, but when I thought it over as I drove to Tropical Breeze, I realized I could make it work in my favor. As soon as Treena came into the diner I was going to recognize her and cry, “Look, everybody, it’s Treena Hilliard, star of Orlando Sizzles!” then flatter her, stifle anybody who said, “What’s Orlando Sizzles?” and generally get her signing autographs and taking selfies with all the adoring nobodies in the diner. Easily distracted by the needs of the little people, Treena would then forget about placing the food order until the excitement died down. Then, if necessary, I was going to invite her to sit down with me in the booth with Frane while she waited for her order, and with her there at the table, Frane wouldn’t be able to grill me.

  Synchronicity. I liked it.

  As soon as I got to the diner, I went up to the pass window ahead of time and explained the situation to Don, the owner-cook of the diner.

  “Listen carefully,” I said to him. “This skinny blond chick is going to come in with a carryout order in a little while. I want you to take as long as possible with her order. I’m going to try to create a diversion in the dining room, but it would be a big help if you would really take forever back there with her food.”

  Don is a man of few words, and he took this in quietly, the angle of his eyebrows only changing slightly.

  I got creative. “You know, drop a stack of pans and then send out word that that had been the sound of her order landing on the floor, so you need to start over, and you’re really really sorry,” I suggested to the mild-mannered face in the pass window. I have never seen Don from head to toe. “Don’t worry; she’s from Orlando. She’s not a potential regular customer, and she’s a snot. The kind of girl who’d dump a guy if he took her to a diner. She’s only coming in for carryout because her boss is making her do it. She probably brought her own lunch today, something like a pear and a can of tomato juice.”

  These were fighting words. Don gave me a silent thumbs-up and returned to the grill-top.

  I had deliberately arrived early so I could slip the word to Don before Frane got there. Then I went across the dining room, slid into my favorite booth and waited for the scene to unfold.

  * * *

  “Look everybody, it’s Treena Hilliard, star of Orlando Sizzles!”

  If Frane was taken by surprise, he didn’t show it. His amphibian eyes looked like they were a fathom or two deeper under the water, but otherwise he only watched to see what I was up to.

  Somebody did, in fact, ask what Orlando Sizzles was, but Treena didn’t seem to hear him. I recognized the man as a member of the City Council, and even if he’d never heard of her or her show before, he was impressed by her hotness and prepared to ask for her autograph anyway.

  She was painted into a frosty-lavender dress, and the pastel color suited her pale, Nordic looks. It brought out bluish tones in her ivory skin. Since Lily had said they’d wanted to salvage what they could from the earlier shoot at Artwerks, it must have been the same dress she’d worn that day. Striding forward confidently on 4-inch heels (black, which I wouldn’t have worn with a pastel, but what do I know), Treena turned to see who was doing all the yelling, saw me across the room, realized she was in the spotlight and turned on the star power.

  It took me a minute to rally the troops, but within a very short time, everybody in the diner realized Treena was somebody or other, and they wanted to get in on the fun.

  The next interlude was indescribably outré for Tropical Breeze. Plumbers and sales clerks in their work clothes turned on the charm, letting their meatloaf congeal on the plate while they surrounded the celebrity – they weren’t exactly sure which celebrity, but she was good-looking enough to go on with, as far as they were concerned.

  Once I had the circus up and running, I retreated to the booth, and Frane mildly asked, “Is she coming to the party?”

  “Oh, heck no. This is only a diversion.”

  “Are we actually here to eat, or is what we’re witnessing important somehow?”

  “Oh, we’re eating,” I said emphatically. “Just ignore all this.”

  I signaled DeAnn, who was standing back at the fountain with her co-worker, J.B., having a quiet laugh. She came over and asked me who that lady was.

  “A shooting star,” I told her. I explained the Orlando TV show, then said, “Get her autograph quick, before she flames out again. I’ll have the usual,” I added.

  “Me too,” Frane said.

  We sipped our iced teas quietly for a while, and finally, Frane said, “You’re going to have to talk to me anyway, you know. I’m not walking into a roomful of suspects without knowing what’s going to happen next.”

  “I know. I’m really not expecting any fireworks.” I thought it over, then amended, “No violence, anyway.”

  Treena was busy and happy doing her personal appearance, so I had her locked down for a while. As I’d hoped, it was developing that Tropical Breeze was chockfull of people who had great ideas for TV shows, but had never gotten them off their chests. One especially persistent man seemed to think that Treena could do something about the way his back yard flooded every time it rained.

  I had to hand it to her, she was a good listener. From my own impression of her and what Lily had to say, it was likely that Treena was standing there thinking about her next visit to the nail salon, but you’d never have known it from the look on her face. Treena was taking it all in as if they were describing Emmy-winning ideas and murky assassination plots.

  I was going to wait until she got bored with all the attention (if ever) before I reminded her that she hadn’t placed her food order yet.

  “Why do you keep watching her?” Frane asked.

  “Just doing a favor for a friend.”

  “I see. So, what are your ideas about the murder investigation? Why are we having a group meeting today?”

  “Well, I’ve got a lot of loose ends in my mind, and it’ll help me weave them together if I can get confirmation of a few things I’ve been suspecting.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one thing, Maida was in love with somebody. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t want her. What I mean is, he didn’t want her anymore.”

  I was getting tangled up sooner than I’d expected, and to give myself a moment, I turned back to see how Treena was doing.

  The crowd around her had thinned, and she was, in fact, looking like she was going to be on the loose again soon if I didn’t do something.

  “Hey, Treena, want to sit with us while you wait for your order?”

  She gave me a blank look and then realized that she’d forgotten she was there to order lunch. It was a shame to remind her, but I figured the timing was right. It was already 12:30, and allowing for delays in the kitchen, I felt confident that the pacing would be good. Treena went to J.B. and began reading off the order from a slip of paper, and as soon as she was done, I called to her again. Lily had ordered me to sit on her until at least 1:00. The big meeting was set for 2:00, and I figured any time I kept Treena around after 1:00 was a bonus for me, but not technically necessary.

  I introduced Frane and Treena to one another, carefully adding the fact that Frane was a homicide detective.

  “How very fascinating,” she said. “I bet you’ve seen a lot, Detective Frail. I’m sure our viewers would be interested in the typical day of a homicide detective. Have you ever been on TV?”

  * * *

  There was a sudden, loud crash from the kitchen.

  I thought Don was a bit premature with the avalanche. It had only been about twelve minutes, a bit longer than his carryout orders usually take, but Treena didn’t know that. Still, he made up in volume what he’d lost in strategic timing.

  All eyes in the diner turned toward the pass window, and then Frane turned slowly back to gaze at me.

  “I wonder what that was?” I said.

  “No doubt we’
re going to find out,” he said smoothly.

  On cue, DeAnn sailed up to the table and had a quiet word with Treena. The diner had turned out to be such a happy place for her, Treena didn’t seem to mind that the kitchen was starting over on her order. Around the room, any new people that came in were still being whispered to and pointed in Treena’s direction. She smiled brilliantly at each and every one of them, and a few were bold enough to come right up and ask for a selfie, just in case she turned out to really be somebody.

  The minute hand of my watch crawled along, and finally it was one o’clock. Treena’s order had been ready at five to, but I kept introducing her to people until the hour struck, and then, exhausted but somehow exhilarated, I let her go. As the door closed gently behind her, I got out my phone and sent a flash warning to Lily.

  Then I sat back and faced the very placid Detective Frane, who had been waiting patiently to be alone with me.

  “That was fun,” he said.

  “I kind of enjoyed it myself,” I admitted.

  “Am I going to care who that was and why you had to delay her from going somewhere?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I thought so. Well, we’ve still got an hour, and things have quieted down in here. Let’s talk.”

  I settled down, and the cheerful glow from the vaudeville act faded away.

  “Remember the last time we talked about all this, and I mentioned all the wreckage that Grant Rosewood left behind him?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I’ve untangled things a bit, and think I’ve managed to uncover a blackmail plot.”

  He was unimpressed. Passing behind his transparent eyes I could see his regret at bringing the suspects together for me.

  Too bad, I thought, it’s too late now. I began to explain.

  “I think the murder was about both: love and blackmail, and here’s how I think it happened and how it all went wrong.”

  Chapter 27 – Over the Falls

  Adam looked more composed that day than he had the last time I’d seen him. There was a calm about him that rose to a kind of dignity. Sitting by his side, Carmen seemed very concerned, and kept taking covert glances at him. She was cradling a cup of coffee between her hands, and I thought maybe she should have opted for water instead. Everybody else seemed to have water bottles sitting on the floor beside them.