Freesias and Foul Play

by London Lovett

  "Yes, I promise I won't get in the way. I was just looking for Constance. She had mentioned she had a very effective ointment for skin rashes. My floral assistant had an allergic reaction to some mint—"

  "Miss Damon," a deep voice called from behind.

  Susana looked past me and waved. "Yes, over here, Mr. Mayor."

  My posture immediately crumpled, and I braced myself for another unwanted run in with the town's mayor. He hadn't noticed it was his least favorite Danby resident until I turned to look at him.

  His ruddy, round face flattened. "Miss Pinkerton, what are you doing here? I'm sorry, Miss Damon, I can place some people at both sides of the town square to make sure people aren't wandering through and bothering you."

  "I wasn't bothering her, Mayor Price," I snapped.

  "Miss Pinkerton," he said huffily. "Bothering seems to be part of your nature. Now run along. Miss Damon and I have to discuss the details for opening night. You might not have noticed but these people are very busy getting ready for the show."

  Susana seemed to take pity on me. She, of course, had no idea that Mayor Price disliked me immensely. "I think you'll find Constance in that first trailer with the green trim. She's practicing her lines for the Dorothy part. It is—" she paused. "It was Amanda's trailer."

  "Thank you and good day, Miss Damon." I said nothing to the mayor as I spun around and headed to the leading lady's trailer.

  Chapter 35

  Argh," I muttered as I looked at my phone. "Detective James Briggs, where are you?" I shoved my phone back into my pocket as I reached the trailer. I wasn't entirely sure what my plan was. I seemed to be winging it a lot lately, but the 'seat of my pants' thing had been working out.

  A voice drifted through the open window of the trailer. It was Constance but she sounded funny. I passed up the steps and crept beneath the window to find out who she was talking to. With the words courage and heart being tossed about, I quickly realized Constance did not have a visitor. She was practicing her lines in a sing-song voice.

  I paced a few minutes, suddenly a little uneasy about just walking in and starting up a conversation about murder. The Miracle Salve seemed like the best way to go. I took a steadying breath, headed up the steps to the trailer door and knocked lightly.

  "Yes? Come in," she called still in her Dorothy voice.

  The trailer, Amanda's trailer, was much more sumptuous than Susana's or the costumer's trailer. A plush green sofa bordered a thick rug. A sparkly crystal chandelier hung in the center of the space. Crisp white blinds hung over the windows and gold specked granite covered the counter beneath gleaming ash gray kitchen cabinets. There was even a professional stove set into the counter. Constance was at the far end of the trailer where a bedroom had been set with a pillow covered bed and a pretty walnut vanity cluttered with perfumes, makeup and jewelry. She was sitting on the satin stool in front of the three-piece vanity mirror.

  "Did you remember the whipped cream on the coffee?" she asked before glancing over her shoulder. Her smile vanished instantly, then she forced it back onto her face.

  "It's you. What are you doing here?" she asked. "I'm very busy learning my lines. I don't really have time to answer questions."

  "Yes, I heard you'll be playing Dorothy now." I walked closer and stopped mid-kitchen, which was still just a few feet from where she sat. "I just came to ask you the name of the cream you were using. My shop assistant developed a rash on his hands while potting mint plants. I need to buy him some."

  She looked greatly relieved at my question. (A little too relieved.) "Is that all? It's called Miracle Salve. Tell him just to rub it on the rash. It stings a little at first, but after a day, the rash will start to heal."

  "So it takes a little time for the rash to disappear?" I asked.

  "Well, yes, I mean obviously it's not instant," she said with a huff and turned back to her mirror. She picked up a shiny gold pair of earrings and held one to her ear. The lush surroundings were already going to her head. In her mind she was now lead actress, the star of the show, a title that had been stolen from her. Now she had deviously regained it.

  "It's just that you mentioned you lent the cream to Amanda for a rash she got from the stage makeup," I said.

  "Yes, that's right." She put the earring down briskly and twisted on the stool. "If you don't mind, I need to practice my lines."

  "Of course. Sorry. I was just wondering about the Miracle Salve because the coroner didn't find any signs of a rash or skin irritation on Amanda. Other than the red marks left behind by the cable, of course."

  Without turning around, she stared at me in the reflection in the mirror. Her lips rolled in and out, smearing some of her bright red lipstick on the skin around her mouth. Her bottom shifted haughtily on the satin stool. "Then I guess it really is a miracle salve." She shot a smirk by way of the mirror. "I must ask you to leave. I'm busy."

  "Of course. Nice trailer, by the way. You have wonderful taste," I said.

  "Please," she scoffed. "This place is like a little girl's princess bedroom. I'm going to modernize it just as soon as the new budget comes in."

  I rubbed my hand along the top of the sofa. "I rather like it. But I guess I misspoke. I like Amanda's style. Since you two didn't get along, I suppose it makes sense you'd want to change it."

  I could see every change in her demeanor and expression in her mirror reflection and her posture on the stool. Her back and shoulders were rigid with tension.

  "That's just silly. Amanda and I got along just fine. What would you know about any of it anyhow?"

  "You're right. I just thought because you were once cast as Dorothy and then Amanda took the role over that you might have held a grudge."

  Even though I was hurtling some pretty strong stuff at her, she refused to spin around to face me and spoke to me, instead, through the mirror.

  "Susana made a big mistake then but soon she'll see that she was wrong. I plan to shine on stage as Dorothy. Then everyone will see that I've always been a better actress than Amanda."

  "I'm sure they will. Guess that's why you had to get her out of the way. How else were you going to prove to everybody that you were the true star?"

  "Right," she said quickly, then shook her head. "No, wait, what are you talking about?" This time, she faced me but she remained seated. She pushed her hands between her knees to hide the fact that they were trembling. "If you don't leave my trailer, I'll call someone to come throw you out."

  "If you say so." I meandered toward the door. "By the way, you might want to avoid Johnny. He's really angry about you trying to frame him. He was out there just now telling everyone how he got pulled into an interrogation room. Fortunately for him, he had a witness who could verify that the costume was in perfect shape when he handed it off to the costume department."

  "No it wasn't," she snapped. "There was a large rip in the back where he ripped it on the house. You saw it. I showed you the costume and everything." Her face moved from red to grayish white then back to red. "You have gotten your nose in where it doesn't belong. You're just a busy body. Now get out of here before I call the police." She spun back to the mirror to let me know we were through talking. She fiddled with something on the vanity, but her body was turned at an angle that blocked my view. Fortunately, I could still view things through my nose. She had apparently taken the top off a bottle of perfume, a French brand. An expensive one with a hint of real jasmine.

  I walked closer. "Maybe we should call the police. Then you can explain to them how you killed Amanda Seton. She stole your part in the play and when you saw her with Gordon—"

  "She deserved the same end as the Wicked Witch." Her voice was low and odd. The tension in her body had dissolved into visible shudders. She shot up from the stool and twisted wildly around. I'd predicted her next step and covered my face and eyes before the expensive perfume reached me. What I hadn't anticipated was her violently shoving me back against the granite counter. The hard polished edge of the stone c
ounter jammed painfully into my back. I instinctively shot forward and fell to my knees. When the pain had cleared my head and I was able to focus, a pair of ruby red slippers came into view.

  My face shot up. Constance lifted a frying pan above her head. I reached forward and yanked hard on both her ankles. The red slippers flew off. She screamed as she fell backwards into the kitchen table. The frying pan clanged on the floor next to me.

  I sprang to my feet and was suddenly blinded by the setting sunlight pouring into the trailer. A silhouette appeared in the doorway.

  "Lacey," Briggs said frantically. His urgent footsteps shook the trailer as he raced toward me. Seconds later, I was in his embrace. The lingering pain on my back assured me I was going to have an ugly bruise. It seemed Constance would too.

  She groaned and reached around to her back as she pushed to her knees. Her large eyes glared up at me. There was nothing about her face that seemed like the real Constance. She looked hard and vicious and truly wicked. "You stupid busy body," she sneered. "I was going back on stage. I was going to be Dorothy. You've ruined everything."

  A few more footsteps rocked the trailer. Officer Chinmoor was followed closely by a bewildered Susana. A few of the other cast members peered around the edges of the doorway to see what was going on.

  Briggs slowly released his hold on me, but I kept close at his side. "Chinmoor, arrest this woman for the murder of Amanda Seton."

  An audible chorus of gasps followed. Gordon pushed himself past the others crowding the doorway. Briggs put up a hand to stop him from proceeding any farther.

  "You killed Amanda?" The shock had caused Gordon's voice to crack. "You're crazy. I should have broken up with you long ago."

  His words caused Constance to sob silently. Her shoulders shook as her entire life came crumbling down around her. She picked up one of the ruby slippers and stared at it. "I was supposed to be Dorothy. It was my part. It was always my part." Her words trailed off. If my back hadn't been throbbing in pain, I might almost have felt sorry for her.

  "That's it," Susana said as she tried to herd the cast away from the door. "Show is off. Head back to your trailers and get ready to pack up camp. We're through in Port Danby."

  I looked at Briggs. "The mayor is going to be so mad at me."

  "Do you care?" he asked.

  "Not really."

  His nose crinkled up. "You smell good but strong. Making my eyes water."

  "It's perfume. Expensive perfume if my nose is still as discerning as it was back in my perfumery days." I discretely reached for his hand. "I guess you figured out my clue, but it took you a little too long," I said. "I'm going to have a bruise on my back."

  "If you're going to leave me an explosive clue that needs to be solved quickly to avoid you getting killed, then don't count on Hilda. I was in the office a good ten minutes before she came in and said Lacey had left a message, then another three minutes for her to remember what you said."

  "Next time—" I started.

  "No next time." He squeezed my hand and led me out of the trailer. The look on his face assured me a lecture would follow.

  An enormous crowd of people had gathered to find out why police cars had pulled up to the town square. Members of the theater group were huddled in different places, no doubt discussing the alarming news. A few of the stage crew were already pulling large props out of the tent to begin the tear down process.

  Briggs led me toward his car. He had pulled right onto the grass in front of the trailers. "Lacey, I've told you again and again not to confront killers. You could have been seriously hurt or worse." In between his fatherly scolding, he stopped several times to clear his throat.

  "I know but Constance is several inches shorter than me—" My size matters defense was cut short by his sneeze. "Bless you."

  "Thanks." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter if Constance is shorter and slighter than you."

  I put up a finger. "Uh, I didn't say slighter. Just shorter."

  He grinned faintly. "My mistake. It doesn't matter that she's shorter. Amanda Seton was a good five inches taller than Constance, and she still couldn't fight her off."

  I nodded lightly. "I'm sorry and I won't do anything so foolhardy again."

  He sneezed again.

  I blinked at him for a second. "Uh oh, did I do that?"

  "I've been trying to ignore the sore throat all day, hoping it would just go away."

  I scrunched my face up. "Sorry."

  "I'm only sorry I wasted all those kisses when I was going to get the cold anyhow." He leaned against his car. "So, how did you figure this one out, Super Nosed Sherlock?"

  "I was having a tough time putting pieces together with this one, but it all had to do with Ryder being allergic to mint."

  "I know this is heading somewhere that will eventually make sense."

  "Yes it is. Ryder's rash reminded me about my chat with Constance about the Miracle Salve. At first she didn't mention lending any to Amanda until I brought up that Amanda had some on her skin. She wasn't terribly smooth about it all, but in her haste to fill in the story she said Amanda had developed a rash from the stage makeup so she needed the ointment."

  "Ah, so that's why you needed to see the coroner's report. Nate would have listed any rashes on his report."

  "Yep, good ole thorough Nate. There was no rash. I also found out that Constance used to play the role of Dorothy. Then she caught the flu and Amanda had to step in to cover for her. She was so good in the part, Susana made her the permanent Dorothy, and Constance was demoted to a Munchkin and flying monkey. It would be enough to make any budding actress upset. Even upset enough to kill. Especially when the person who stole your starring role was also attempting to steal your boyfriend. I think that Constance saw Amanda with Gordon and it pushed her last button."

  Briggs nodded. "Impressive." He touched his throat as he swallowed. "A sore throat. Last thing I need."

  I cuddled up against him. "I think what you need is a few days off to recuperate. And chicken soup. And fruit smoothies. And maybe some of Elsie's quinoa and vegetables. And some tender loving care from your girlfriend."

  "I'll take everything, but I draw the line at quinoa. It doesn't even sound like it's edible."

  I rolled my eyes. "You sound just like Les."

  He kissed my nose. "Let me finish my job here, then you can meet me at my house with some of Franki's chicken soup and some of that tender loving care."

  Chapter 36

  Bear trotted up to me, instantly smitten. As much as I would have liked to think the longing look from his big brown eyes was for me, I knew it was for the container of Franki's chicken soup I held in my hand. Briggs was on his couch with a blanket around his shoulders and a box of tissue on his lap. It was so rare to see him weak and vulnerable that I almost wanted to take a picture.

  "You poor guy, you've got the Rudolph syndrome." I stopped and gazed down at him. "But you're still my handsome prince despite the sallow complexion, dark under eye rings and bulbous red nose."

  "Thanks. And good to know my nose is not just red but that it's grown into a bulb just like Rudolph's. Why was that, anyhow? I mean, sure he was born with a red nose, but why was it so enormously big as compared to the other reindeer?"

  I laughed. "I see you've grown philosophical and deep in your sickness." I held up the carton of soup. Bear, who had sat obediently at my feet, lifted his head so his twitchy nose could follow the carton of soup and its dreamy aroma. "Should I heat some up and allow the miracle of Franki's soup to get started on the healing process?" I asked.

  Briggs pushed himself deeper into the couch cushion and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Not sure I'm in the mood for soup. A glass of orange juice sounds better."

  "One glass of OJ coming right up." I carried the soup to the kitchen. Bear's feet clip clopped across the wood floor as he trotted behind me. He released a squeaky, doggy groan as I put the soup in the refrigerator. I spun around to him. "Don't worry, big
guy, I didn't come empty handed." I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out two of Elsie's peanut butter dog treats. Bear's ears perked with glee as he took the treats from my hand and dashed off to enjoy them on his pillow.

  I poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to Briggs before sitting down next to him.

  He glanced sideways at me. "I think you're probably sitting in the germ space." He drew an imaginary line around himself.

  "I think since I gave this germ to you originally, it has no chance of bouncing back to the giver. And don't I just sound like someone who had several years of medical school. My professors would be so proud." I relaxed back next to him. "Any news on Constance?"

  "Just that you nailed everything. She was harboring a year long grudge for losing the Dorothy part to Amanda, and when she spotted Gordon cozying up to Amanda something snapped. She had been in Susana's trailer, complaining that the makeup was giving her a rash. Susana's phone was sitting on the table next to her laptop. She stuck the laptop cable in her pocket to be used as a murder weapon. She spotted a text conversation where Susana was asking Amanda to stay after dress rehearsal so they could talk. She knew Amanda would be in the tent, but she had to make sure she stuck around after Susana finished talking to her. She was mad at Gordon, so she decided to implicate him in her future crime by sending a text from his phone. Later she switched her ire to Johnny because Gordon had come back around." Briggs turned his face to me without lifting his head from the couch. "But none of her schemes worked because the amazing, relentless and clever Lacey Pinkerton was on the case."

  "Uh, I believe you forgot adorable in your list of adjectives."

  "Adorable is a given." He reached over and took my hand. "Thanks for your help, Miss Pinkerton. Couldn't have done it without you."

  Banana Walnut Muffins

  Click photo to view the recipe online