by Gayle Leeson
“All right,” Grandpa said. “Tell me why you suspect the other three.”
Max floated off the desk and paced the room. “Connie behaved strangely when Amanda saw her at the restaurant with Guy. Who’s to say Connie and Guy aren’t in cahoots on something—maybe blackmailing Janice? Mark found out and tried to protect his lady love and was rewarded with a bullet to the chest.”
She gauged Grandpa’s expression before continuing.
“If you don’t buy that bag of apples, how about this: Maybe Mark discovered whatever it is Ford hides in his hollowed-out books. I mean, he could be putting anything in there—drugs, stolen money, hooch, blackmail materials.”
“Blackmail must’ve been a big deal in your day,” I said.
“Darling, blackmail is a big deal every day.”
“What’s this about Ford hollowing out books?” Grandpa asked.
“Max has witnessed Ford carving out hiding places in some of his books.”
“That’s odd,” he said. “But, continue, Max. Why is Janice a suspect?”
“Because of the love affair, of course. Maybe she was through with Mark and didn’t want to have to look at him every day.”
“But she wouldn’t have had to look at him every day,” I pointed out. “Mark was leaving at the end of the month.”
“Well, there is that...but she might’ve forgotten it.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Passionate people aren’t always the most logical.”
“That’s true.” Grandpa wiped his mouth with his napkin. “But what if Mark was the one who was through with Janice?”
She wagged her index finger. “The wronged woman. I like it. Of course, his mother knew about Janice, so that would lead me to think she was more than a fling...to him, anyway.” She resumed her pacing. “We know so little about Mark’s personal life and why he was unable—or unwilling—to pay his rent. Amanda, you need to speak with Ms. Tinsley and see what you can dig up.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Well, I can’t very well do it, can I?”
I huffed. “I barely know the woman, and I don’t have her phone number.”
“I imagine Connie does. After all, it was she who hosted the séance.”
I turned to Grandpa. “What do you think? Should I call Mark’s grieving mother?”
He inclined his head, and I knew him well enough to know he was trying to reach a conclusion that would placate both Max and me. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to call Ms. Tinsley and see how the poor woman is doing. You don’t have to interrogate her, but you could let her know the people at Shops on Main haven’t forgotten her or her son.” He glanced at Max. “And if Ms. Tinsley feels the need to share anything more, then she’ll have her opportunity.”
“All right. I’ll get the number from Connie tomorrow morning.”
Max ran her hand along her throat. “I wonder how we can get a gander at Ford’s and Janice’s stuff.” She pierced Grandpa with a stare. “How are you at lock-picking, Dave?”
“Not good. Plus, that’s unethical.”
She scoffed. “You and your granddaughter are wet blankets.”
“You go into their shops all the time,” I reminded Max. “Why do you suddenly want to pick their locks?”
“I’m unable to open drawers and go through files and things.”
“No, but you can look through their electronic devices like phones, tablets, laptops and computers.”
“Amanda! That’s as bad—if not more so—than breaking into these people’ offices,” Grandpa Dave chided. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“How are we going to know whether they’re innocent or guilty unless we go through their stuff?” Max asked.
“The way the old-fashioned detectives did—by asking questions.”
Before we could debate the matter further, we heard the front door open. I froze, wide-eyed.
“I thought you locked the door,” Grandpa whispered.
“I did.”
The person who’d opened the door apparently stood in the hallway for a moment, and then the floor creaked as he began to walk.
“What if it’s Mark’s killer?” I asked. “What if—”
“Hold your horses.” Max went over and poked her head through the wall. She looked back around at Grandpa and me. “Relax. It’s the Meacham kid.”
I blew out a breath, put down my plate, and walked over to the door. I opened it just as Brett was reaching for the doorknob on the other side.
“Hi, Brett. Come on inside and meet my grandpa.”
Brett shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strode into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you folks, but I saw the light on as I was driving by, and I was concerned. I wanted to stop and make sure everything was all right.”
“Mrs. Meacham certainly has an asset in you,” Grandpa said, putting down his plate and reaching out his hand. “I’m Dave Tucker. Nice to meet you.”
Brett shook his hand. “Brett Meacham. Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Would you like to have some pizza?” I asked.
Grandpa laughed. “I sometimes have to make Amanda take a dinner break.”
“Mom says the same thing about me,” Brett said. “But, no, thank you. I won’t take up anymore of your time. Just...you know...with all the stuff that’s been going on, I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He lowered his eyes. “I couldn’t forgive myself if someone else...well, you know.”
“Thank you for checking on us,” I said.
He smiled. “Anytime. I...uh...I hope to see you again soon.”
After Brett had left, Max turned to me with a wicked grin. “It seems someone has a crush on our Amanda.”
I could feel my cheeks burning. “I don’t think so. He was right to be concerned that there were people in the building this late.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waggled her eyebrows at Grandpa, and he laughed.
“I suppose we should be finishing up and calling it a night,” he said.
AFTER I GOT HOME, TOOK my bath, and slipped into my pjs, I bit the bullet and called my parents. I hadn’t planned to, but Grandpa Dave had spoken with me about it when we walked out of Shops on Main together.
“Have you spoken with your mom and dad since you opened Designs on You?” he’d asked.
“No.” I avoided meeting his eyes. “Have you?”
“Yes, but I haven’t told them about your new venture. I feel that’s up to you.”
So, I’d promised to call them. I half-hoped they’d be out, so I could leave a friendly message on their answering machine: Hi! Just calling to say I love you, I hope all is well, and I’ve opened my own fashion design shop! Talk soon!
No such luck. Mom answered on the third ring.
“Mandy, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m all right. Are you sure everything is all right? You call so seldom...”
“Yes. I’m...I had dinner with Grandpa Dave this evening.”
“Well, thank goodness for him. At least, someone is around to keep an eye on you and make sure you aren’t getting yourself into too much trouble.”
I didn’t remind her that I was almost twenty-five and hadn’t done any jail time yet. I did, however, take a deep breath and tell her that I’d opened Designs on You.
“You’ve done what?”
“I’ve opened a fashion design shop called Designs on You,” I repeated.
“Amanda Michelle Tucker, have you lost your mind? After all the money spent for your education, and you go and blow it on some hare-brained scheme like this?”
I could’ve said that Grandpa Dave spent the money for my education and that he supported my new venture, but I kept my mouth shut.
“How’d you get the money to set up a fashion boutique, of all things?” Mom ranted. “Let me guess—Grandpa Dave. When are you going to stop taking advantage of that man?”
“I’m not taking advantage of him. I’m paying him back for
—”
“What in the world were you thinking?”
I wanted to speak with Dad. He was like Grandpa Dave...not as...judgmental. But I didn’t dare ask. Maybe if she didn’t get the responses she wanted, she’d hand me over to him anyway. She did.
“David, come speak with your daughter. You aren’t going to believe what she’s done now!”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“I understand you’ve lost your mind.”
“Apparently so.” I explained to him what I’d done. He didn’t interrupt, so I was able to tell him about the shop, the loan from Grandpa Dave, and the gowns I’d received commissions for today.
“That’s wonderful.” He raised his voice. “And you didn’t think to consult your mom or me before diving into this thing?” Lowered it again. “I’m proud of you.”
I giggled. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Your mom is too. She’ll come around in a day or two and give you a call back.”
“All right.”
“I’ll work on her,” he promised.
“I love you.”
“Oh, I know. I’m absolutely your favorite.”
I laughed again. “Goodnight, Dad.”
Raised voice, “Of course, you didn’t! That’s your problem, Amanda!” Lowered voice, “Goodnight. I love you.”
I called Grandpa Dave as soon as I ended the call to my parents. “I told them.”
“I thought I heard shouting from the general direction of Florida.” He chuckled. “Seriously, how did it go?”
“About as well as could be expected. Mom thinks I’ve lost my mind, and Dad pretended to go along with her but said he’s proud of me.”
“Did you mention Mark Tinsley?”
“No. I thought it was best not to mention the murder or the ghost. If Mom thought I’d lost my mind simply because I’d set up shop, she’d have me committed if I told her my new best friend is a ghost.”
“Ain’t that the truth? I agree that it’s best you don’t ever mention Max...at least, not to your mother. And tell them about Mark only when his murder is solved.”
“You don’t think they might’ve read about the murder online and simply didn’t connect it to the place where I’ve opened Designs on You, do you?” I asked.
“I doubt it. If your dad had seen anything about it, he’d have likely mentioned it to me. He doesn’t keep up with Abingdon as much as he did when he and your mother first moved to Florida.”
“I realize I should talk with them more, Grandpa Dave, but they just don’t get me the way you do. And Max and Jason are the first friends I’ve had since graduating college.”
“That happens, Pup. High school, college, workplaces...you always have the best intentions to keep up with the people you’ve befriended, but you seldom do.”
“So, you don’t think I’ve lost my mind?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that. As Lewis Carroll said in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, ‘You’re entirely bonkers...but..the best people are.’”
{ }
Chapter Seventeen
I
arrived at Designs on You and let Jazzy out of her crate. After making sure she was settled in and had fresh kibble, I went over to talk with Connie.
“Hey, there! How are you?” Connie was as bubbly as ever in a blue and white tie-dyed tunic, leggings, and sandals. “I saw what appeared to be a bridal party entering your shop yesterday morning.”
“That was indeed a bridal party, and I’ve been commissioned to do the bridesmaids’ dresses.”
She gave me a high five. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you.” I thought about how much I’d liked Connie before that whole weirdness at the restaurant and Guy. I hoped I’d regain that feeling soon.
I looked around Delightful Home. Connie had replaced the curtains with green-and-white gingham.
“I like the new curtains,” I said. “Very pretty.”
She smiled. “I appreciate that. I feel it’s a major compliment coming from you. I finished them last night and came in early this morning to hang them.”
“I didn’t realize you were a fellow seamstress.”
“Hardly,” Connie said. “I can make a simple skirt, sew a pillow, and whip up some curtains, but I wouldn’t even try to do what you do.”
I browsed Connie’s shelves of essential oils and selected a bottle of lavender. “I love lavender oil in my bath, and I’m just about out.”
“These oils are excellent quality...wildcrafted and organic. I think you’ll love it. And, of course, if you don’t, I have a money-back guarantee.”
As I paid for my purchase, I asked Connie if she had Lorinda Tinsley’s phone number. At Connie’s raised brows, I explained, “I’d like to call and see how she’s doing. I realize I didn’t know Mark, but I want Ms. Tinsley to feel that the people at Shops on Main care about her...and her son.”
Connie stepped around the counter to give me a hug. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” She took out her phone, copied Lorinda Tinsley’s number from her contacts and texted it to me.
“I saw Guy come in with flowers,” I said. “Are he and Janice working things out?”
“He told me yesterday that he’s cautiously optimistic.”
“That’s good.” I held up my Delightful Home bag. “Thank you!”
“Thank you. I’ll talk with you later.”
I opened the door into the reception area of Designs on You to see Max dancing for Jazzy. The cat was following Max around and would occasionally flop down and roll onto her back while gazing up at the ghostly fashionista.
“What have you been doing while I’ve been entertaining the troops?” Max asked.
“I’ve been visiting with Connie.” I walked through to the atelier.
“What did you buy?”
“Lavender essential oil. It’s so relaxing in a bath.” I opened the filing cabinet and placed the small bag in the back.
“You don’t have to do that,” Max said. “It won’t bother me. In fact, I quite like the scent of lavender.”
“It’s not you I’m concerned about. Lavender oil can be toxic to cats.”
“Well, you learn something new every day.” She looked down at Jazzy, who’d followed us. “You’re much loved, little Jazzy cat. We don’t want you getting sick off lavender oil.”
I got a cup of coffee, returned to the reception area, and took out my phone. I motioned for Max to join me as I placed my phone on the round table between the two chairs.
She clasped her hands as she hovered above the chair across from mine. “You got Mark’s mother’s telephone number, didn’t you?”
“I did. But I’m a little hesitant to call from here. I’m afraid the walls have ears in this place.”
Max scoffed. “Only when I’m around. And who can I tell except you? Besides, if you don’t call from here, I’ll miss out on the conversation, and two minds are always better than one when you’re trying to sort things out.”
“Agreed. Still, let’s give everyone a few minutes to get settled in before we call. We don’t want to be interrupted.”
“Nor do we want to be too busy to talk with Mr. Handsome should he come down first thing to ask a certain someone for a date this weekend,” Max said. “I’m telling you, you should invite the man to dinner.”
“I might. I—” Before I could finish my thought, Max was gone.
In a few seconds, she was back. “Connie is scrolling through her phone. Frank and Ella are discussing their niece. Mrs. Meacham isn’t here yet. Ford is playing solitaire on his desktop. And Jason is setting up for his first appointment.” She nodded at the phone. “Dial.”
I took a sip of my coffee, took a deep breath, and called Ms. Tinsley. The woman answered on the first ring.
“Yes? Hello?”
“Good morning, Ms. Tinsley. It’s Amanda Tucker from Shops on Main. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No...you didn’t. I barely sleep at all these days.”
> “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must be going through,” I said.
“I miss him so much. He moved back in with me a few months ago. I believe he could see how lonely I was. He was a kind young man...giving up his apartment for me...He was special.”
“I’m sure. Was Mark your only child, Ms. Tinsley?”
“Yes. Walter—Mark’s father—and I divorced when Mark was just four years old. I never remarried. I was too afraid Mark would feel as if he were second best or that another man wouldn’t love him like his own child.” She took a shuddering breath. “I saw how Mark’s stepmother treated him. “That woman only loved the child she brought into the marriage with Walter. She largely ignored Mark.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Isn’t it? And yet, Mark still adored his father. It would’ve broken his heart to know that Walter didn’t even attend the funeral.” Her voice cracked, and she was silent for a moment. I could well imagine she was composing herself before speaking again. “I couldn’t even locate Walter to tell him about Mark’s death.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” I said. “Everyone at Shops on Main misses Mark. I wish I could’ve known him longer.”
“I wish so too. I’m sure you would’ve been great friends.”
“We’re here for you, Ms. Tinsley, if you need to talk.” The words were hollow, I knew, but I meant them. I’d be happy to talk with this poor woman if it would help her in the least.
After ending the call, I looked at Max. “I feel like a hypocrite. I didn’t go to Mark’s funeral, and I only met the man once. And here I am calling his mother like he and I were great friends.”
“You didn’t tell her the two of you were great friends. You’re only a hypocrite if you misrepresent yourself.” She raised and dropped one shoulder. “Besides, you made Lorinda Tinsley feel better. That’s a good thing. She’s devastated and so horribly alone.”
“I know. How horrible that Mark’s dad missed the funeral.”
“Given the way Ms. Tinsley talked, he might not have known about it. It doesn’t appear she went to any extremes to find him.”
“I wonder if maybe Mark and his father had drifted apart,” I said.
