by Sarah Fox
Chapter 26
When I parted my curtains on May Day, a cloudless blue sky greeted me, bringing a smile to my face. The weather was perfect for the festivities that would take place on the village green throughout the day. I planned to take in some of them myself, before the Inkwell opened at noon. I’d promised Kiandra that I’d watch her maypole dance. Several groups of schoolchildren would be performing the dance on the green, and Kiandra’s class would be the first group of the day.
I was up and about earlier than usual because I wanted to make sure I had the pub all shipshape and ready to open before I headed out to the green. While waiting for a delivery of supplies, I checked the napkin dispensers and salt and pepper shakers, ensuring that they were all full. After that, I tucked myself away in my tiny office to pay a couple of bills. I wrapped that up just in time to greet the deliveryman bringing an order of fresh produce from a local farm.
I put everything away, either in the pub’s commercial-size refrigerator or in the walk-in pantry. After that, I took a final look around the Inkwell. Everything seemed in order.
As I headed out the front door of the pub, I spotted Wimsey stalking through the grass near the edge of the forest.
“Don’t bother bringing home any presents,” I called out to him.
He ignored me.
He didn’t leave dead creatures on my doorstep too often, so I hoped I wouldn’t be met with any unpleasant surprises when I returned home.
Leaving Wimsey to whatever he was up to, I walked over to the village green, where several dozen people were already milling about. Food trucks had parked along Creekside Road and appeared to be getting ready to open for business. A bouncy castle had been set up at the western edge of the green and a local musical group, the Old-Time Fiddlers, was setting up at the bandstand.
My nose caught the scent of cotton candy and mini donuts on the air. My stomach rumbled in response, despite the fact that I’d eaten a bowl of oatmeal less than two hours ago. I decided I could be strong, for a while at least, and resist the temptation to indulge in junk food until after midmorning.
A group of children dressed all in white gathered around a woman near the maypole. I spotted Kiandra in the group and a second later saw her mom nearby.
“It’s a perfect day, isn’t it?” I said as I reached Shontelle’s side.
“We couldn’t have asked for better.” She smiled as Kiandra bounced up on her toes and waved to us.
We both waved back.
“So, spill,” Shontelle said when Kiandra had returned her attention to the other kids around her. “I want to hear all about your date with Grayson. I would have hounded you for details earlier, but things have been busy, and I didn’t have a chance to grill you after the meeting last night.”
“There’s not a lot to tell.” When I caught her disbelieving and unimpressed expression, I hurried to add, “But it was nice.”
“Nice? That’s all?”
“No,” I said quickly. “It was . . . almost perfect.”
Shontelle tucked her arm through mine as Kiandra and her fellow dancers took hold of the ribbons hanging from the maypole.
“As soon as this is over, I want to know everything.”
Music began to play from a nearby speaker and, with an encouraging nod from their teacher, the children started to dance.
I was impressed by how well they pulled it off, the ribbons crisscrossing as the children danced and wove among each other. When it was over, Shontelle and I clapped and cheered along with the rest of the crowd that had gathered. Kiandra beamed with happiness and ran over to ask Shontelle if she could go to the bouncy castle with her friends.
Shontelle gave her permission and Kiandra ran off happily with two other girls and a boy her age. We followed slowly in their wake, Shontelle sniffing the food-scented air as we walked.
“I won’t be able to resist the mini donuts much longer.” She eyed the food trucks on Creekside Road.
“I’m with you there.”
“But first, I need details,” she said.
I obliged, telling her all about my date with Grayson. She was impressed by the roof-top dinner he’d arranged and she shared my disappointment about our interrupted moment on the footbridge.
After I’d related all the details, we continued to stroll around the village green. As we passed the bandstand, I noticed several portable office dividers that had been set up to showcase posters and photographs. When we got closer, I realized the display was about the history of May Day generally as well as the history of Shady Creek’s annual celebrations.
We paused in front of a poster featuring photographs of Shady Creek’s past Spring Queens. I’d heard about the town’s tradition of crowning a young woman as queen each May Day. Hopeful young women had to apply in advance, and the winner got chosen based on community involvement over the past year.
I was on the verge of turning away from the display when one of the photographs I’d glanced at drew my more focused attention. Although the young woman in the picture had long, flowing hair, her resemblance to Jan Finch was uncanny. What caught my eye even more than that was the caption beneath the photo, naming the 1978 Spring Queen as Margaret Vallencourt.
Was Margaret Vallencourt now Margaret Finch? The resemblance between Jan and the woman in the photo was certainly strong enough. Did that mean Margaret was related to Edwin Vallencourt, the original owner of Shady Creek Manor?
Another question joined the others already bouncing around in my mind.
If Jan and her mother were related to Edwin Vallencourt, was that somehow relevant to the recent events at the manor?
I didn’t know, but I planned to find out.
Chapter 27
After Kiandra had her fill of the bouncy castle, Shontelle and I took her over to the line of food trucks for a decidedly unhealthy snack. I bought myself a bag of cinnamon and sugar mini donuts, and Shontelle got the same for herself. Kiandra, however, preferred the pink cotton candy, though she did eat one of her mom’s donuts as well.
I had to leave them a short time later to get back to the pub, and customers began arriving soon after the Inkwell opened for business. The air held an excited hum of energy that afternoon. Most of the patrons were chatting about the masquerade that was only a few hours away. It sounded like half the town would be at the event, and that made me feel better about closing the Inkwell early. Damien and Mel, having worked at the pub for several years before I purchased it, had assured me that it wouldn’t be worth keeping the doors open during the masquerade.
Neither of them was going to the dance, but Teagan and Booker would be there. Booker was working the early shift, but Teagan would have the day off. In the late afternoon, I hurried across the green to Aunt Gilda’s salon. Mel would close the Inkwell in an hour or so, allowing me to get my hair done for the masquerade.
When I arrived at the salon, Aunt Gilda was putting the final waves into a young woman’s blond hair. I did a double take when I saw the woman’s face in the mirror.
“Karidee,” I said when she got up from the chair a minute later, her wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, “your hair looks great. You must be going to the masquerade.”
“I am,” she said with a smile. “I can’t wait.”
She clearly hadn’t been arrested, and I noted that she didn’t seem to be under any obvious stress.
Before she approached the counter to pay for her appointment, I lowered my voice and addressed her again.
“I saw you with Detective Marquez outside Spice and Slice last night.”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. “I was hoping nobody had seen that.”
“Is everything all right?”
She nodded. “The detective wanted to question me about the murder and the assault,” she whispered. “It was scary, but everything’s fine now. I was behind the manor, talking to a friend of mine, when Linnea’s assistant was killed. My friend works in the kitchen there. She vouched for me.”
She smiled and turned her attention to Gilda, who was now behind the counter. Karidee paid and left the salon without saying another word to me.
“You know Karidee?” Aunt Gilda asked.
“I just met her recently. She came to Linnea’s event at the pub.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember seeing her there. She’s a nice girl.”
I could agree, now that I knew she had an alibi for the murder. Maybe she hadn’t gone about things the best way when trying to get some time with Linnea, but aside from that she seemed nice enough.
“So, what are we going to do?” Aunt Gilda asked once I was seated in her styling chair. “Curls, waves, or maybe an updo?”
I’d spent a fair bit of time pondering that question ever since Shontelle and I had gone dress shopping.
“An updo, I think,” I said. “Maybe with a few curly tendrils loose?”
“That’ll look beautiful,” Betty commented. She was in the midst of styling the hair of one of her regular customers, Delia Wilder.
“Sophisticated and stunning,” Gilda agreed. “A perfect match for your dress.”
“Which I’ve yet to see,” Betty said.
“You’ll see it tonight,” I told her, “but I can show you a picture when we’re done here.”
Aunt Gilda and I chatted about my mom and brothers, and what they were all up to lately, while she got to work styling my hair. After Delia Wilder left the salon, only Gilda, Betty, and I remained. During a lull in our conversation, my mind drifted back to my suspect list. Karidee was officially in the clear now, but I couldn’t say the same about the Honeywells. I still wondered if Brad and Gemma could have worked together, with Brad killing Marcie and Gemma attacking Jan. Maybe they didn’t want anyone finding the treasure because they thought it should be theirs.
I wasn’t even sure if I could completely eliminate Jan Finch from my suspect list. She obviously hadn’t attacked herself, and it was more likely than not that Marcie’s killer had hit Jan over the head, but there was still a possibility that there were two different culprits. And what about that earring I’d seen in the third-floor guest room right after Marcie’s death? Was it part of the treasure, or a clue to the killer’s identity? I still didn’t know.
I also had yet to figure out how Marcie and her killer had accessed the guest room without using a key, especially since there was no sign of a secret entrance. I wondered if there were any more clues to be found at the manor, but it was a big place, and the police had already gone over the hotel.
I forced myself back to the present.
“Any more appointments today?” I asked Betty as she tidied up her station.
“Delia was my last one. I need time to get myself gussied up for the masquerade.”
I smiled. “I’m sure you’ll look amazing.”
“Hopefully my Ted will think so,” she said, referring to her husband.
“He will,” Gilda assured her.
A few minutes later, my hair was piled on top of my head in a gorgeous updo I never could have come close to replicating on my own. Aunt Gilda fetched a curling iron to use on the tendrils she’d left loose on either side of my face.
“Do you two know Margaret Finch?” I asked.
“Sure,” Gilda replied. “I cut her hair every two months.”
“She runs the cat shelter on Magnolia Road with her daughter, doesn’t she?” Betty asked.
“That’s right.” Aunt Gilda twirled a lock of my hair around the curling iron. She met my gaze in the mirror. “Are you asking because of what happened to her daughter?”
“Sort of. I was looking at pictures of past Spring Queens out on the green and noticed one from the seventies. The woman looked a lot like Jan and her name was Margaret Vallencourt.”
“That’s Margaret Finch,” Betty said with a nod. “She was a Vallencourt before she married Roger Finch.”
“Vallencourt, as in Edwin Vallencourt?” I doubted there were two lines of Vallencourts in Shady Creek, but I wanted to be sure.
“That’s right,” Betty confirmed. “Edwin was Margaret’s uncle, if I remember correctly.”
Although Betty hadn’t grown up in Shady Creek, she’d lived here for decades and seemed to have a good handle on who was related to whom.
“Are there any other Vallencourts in Shady Creek?”
Aunt Gilda curled my last remaining tendril of hair. “I haven’t met anyone by that name.”
“No.” Betty paused in the midst of setting bottles of styling products on a shelf. “I can’t think of any others.”
“What happened to the manor after Edwin Vallencourt died?” I asked. “Did Margaret inherit anything?”
“You’re testing my memory here,” Betty said.
“Sorry. I’m probably asking too many questions, as usual.”
She smiled. “Of course not. It’s good for me to make my rusty brain cells work.” She thought for another second or two. “Edwin didn’t have any children. He didn’t have a wife, either, though there were plenty of girlfriends, especially in his younger years. He didn’t live too long. I seem to remember hearing that he died in his fifties. A problem with his liver, I think.”
“Too much partying, probably,” Aunt Gilda said. “I’ve certainly heard those stories.”
Betty nodded. “His parties were legendary. Anyway, he had three or four siblings, and I think everything went to them when he died. Margaret’s father probably inherited a share of the estate.”
“But the manor didn’t stay in the family,” I said. “I heard it changed hands a few times before the Honeywells bought it.”
“That’s true,” Betty confirmed. “The story goes that none of Edwin’s siblings could afford to buy out the others’ shares of the property. At least a couple of them were pretty deep in debt. So they had to sell the place.”
I thought over all this new information as Betty went back to tidying up.
When Aunt Gilda put away the curling iron a moment later, I turned my head from side to side, admiring my hairdo in the mirror.
“I love it. Thank you, Aunt Gilda.”
She squeezed my shoulders. “My pleasure, honey.”
“You’ll be turning plenty of heads tonight,” Betty said.
I sighed at that, and Gilda squeezed my shoulders again. “Maybe not the one you’d like to,” she said, reading my thoughts. “But there will be plenty of time ahead with Grayson.”
“I hope so,” I said.
“Why all the interest in the Vallencourts?” she asked as I got up from the chair.
“I’m trying to connect the dots in my head. Only, I’m not sure if all the dots are relevant. Jan Finch is Edwin Vallencourt’s great-niece. She’s been sneaking around what was once his mansion, and someone attacked her there, about a week after the murder.”
“You think the attack on Jan, and Marcie Kent’s murder could somehow be tied to Edwin?” Aunt Gilda asked.
“But he’s been dead for decades,” Betty pointed out.
“I know,” I said, “but some people believe he hid treasure in the manor before he died.”
I told them about the blueprints Jan had in her possession when she was attacked.
“I’ve always thought the stories about the treasure were just that, stories,” Betty said.
“You’re not the only one,” I told her. “But I think Jan might believe the stories. Maybe Marcie did too.”
Concern crept into Aunt Gilda’s eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to the masquerade after all. What if the killer is still at the manor?”
I had no intention of missing the masquerade. I’d been looking forward to it for weeks.
“We’ll be fine,” I assured her. “There’s no way the killer would dare to harm anyone with so many people around.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said.
I sure hoped I was.
Chapter 28
Rolling up to Shady Creek Manor in Aunt Gilda’s car brought me mixed feelings. I couldn’t shake the mem
ories of what had happened there recently, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to, but the windows glowed with a welcoming light, and I couldn’t help but feel excited about the masquerade. After Aunt Gilda handed the car over to the valet, we ascended the front steps with a handful of other partygoers. Everyone was decked out in formalwear and masks that ranged from simple to bedazzling to slightly creepy.
One man’s mask covered much of his face and had a hawklike beak and sharp angles that gave him a menacing appearance. I almost shivered at the sight of it, especially since his eyes were hidden in shadows. When we stepped into the lobby, I lost sight of the man, to my relief. Everyone else around me wore far less frightening masks.
We left Aunt Gilda’s coat and my wrap at the coat check set up in the front parlor. Then we followed the flow of newly arrived guests toward the ballroom. In the lobby and on a narrow table in the wide corridor, stunning bouquets of flowers provided bursts of color and heavenly scents.
Before entering the ballroom, I glanced across the corridor and into the dining room. A few round tables, draped with white cloths, dotted the room, but there weren’t as many as I’d seen on previous occasions. Each table featured a beautiful bouquet, and a handful of masked guests sat around the tables, chatting and snacking on bite-size food. Along one wall, several rectangular tables displayed an impressive array of hors d’oeuvres and desserts.
My stomach grumbled at the sight. I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, hoping to save room for what I’d been told would be an incredible spread of food. I hadn’t tasted anything yet, but from looks alone, my sources had been accurate.
As we entered the ballroom, I realized the bouquets we’d already seen were a mere taste of what was to come. The ballroom had been decked out with elaborate and eye-catching flower arrangements. Each one had probably cost three figures. Up above, ceiling draperies drew my eyes. The fabric streamers, about two feet wide, were fastened near the giant chandelier and dipped down and then up again as they reached out to the edges of the ceiling. In spring colors like green, yellow, and light pink, they reminded me of maypole ribbons, and each one was lit with fairy lights. The effect was almost magical.
