by Joanne Fluke
“He’s right, Ellen, honey.” Jayne waited until the music had stopped, then flicked a switch and another set of lamps on the piece next to the orchestrion began to glow. It looked like an ordinary piano, but a glass case containing three violins was built in above the keyboard. “This one’s called a Hupfeld Phonolizst-Violina. It’s not quite as impressive as the orchestrion, but it’s really very complicated. See those mechanical arms holding the violin bows? Now watch. And listen.”
They were all silent as the mechanical arms began to draw the bows across the strings. Ellen sighed enviously. “Isn’t that wonderful? It never makes a mistake. What is it playing?”
“Sonata in C major, by Mozart,” Paul said. “It was the composer’s first mature violin-piano sonata.”
When the piece was over, Walker turned to Jayne and asked for one more. “These instruments are really something.”
Jayne led them over to the lovely grand piano in the corner. “This is my favorite. The owners of the piano would hire a popular virtuoso to come to their home to give a little concert. The piano recorded it on a punch roll and the owners kept it to play whenever they wanted. I guess you could say that it’s the great-grandpappy of the tape recorder.”
Walker examined the piano carefully. “I see how it works. Hey, Jayne! There’s a shipping label on the side telling the movers to deliver it to your studio.”
Jayne’s mouth dropped open. “My studio? But why?”
“There’s something written on the roll.” Ellen peered down at it. “It says, Listen to this, Jayne.”
Jayne switched on the piano, which began to play a one-fingered melody. She looked at Paul and frowned. “What is it?”
Paul listened for a moment and then he shook his head. “I have never heard it before. Perhaps it is an original written by Johnny.”
“It’s not very good,” Ellen pointed out, making a face. “If that’s the best Johnny could do, I’m glad he hired you to write his songs.”
Jayne switched off the piano and ran her fingers over its glossy surface, an amazed smile on her face. “I just can’t believe a gift like this. It’s incredible!”
Walker knelt to look under the piano. “It’s on a dolly. I think we can move it by ourselves if we get a little help. What do you say, Jayne? Shall we wheel it up to your studio right now?”
“Let’s wait until tomorrow. It’ll be easier in the daylight. This is so exciting!”
Paul glanced at this watch. “We had better begin the packing. The others will be finished before we have started.”
Jayne shrugged. Paul was right; she knew they had to get to work, but it was so damn typical of him to remind her. There were times when she liked to play hooky from her obligations. She knew she’d have to make up the time by working harder, but it was worth it. It was a basic difference in their personalities. Jayne sighed as she walked over to a standard player piano and looked through the box for a suitable roll. “Why don’t you two start boxing the stuff in Johnny’s practice room? And I’ll put on the ‘Maple Leaf Rag’ to work by.”
“Great.” Walker nodded and headed for the alcove in time to Joplin’s bouncy tune. “Come on, Ellen, let’s go.”
As soon as they were alone, Paul turned to Jayne. “I will now take the cow by her horn. You are angry because I reminded you of the work to be done?”
“Take the bull by the horns,” Jayne corrected him. “And yes, I’m madder than a wet hen. We’ve got all week to do this packing and I was having such a good time showing off Johnny’s collection. You’ve got a problem, Paul. You never did learn how to kick back and have fun!”
“Norwegians are by nature a humorless people.” Paul looked very serious. “We eat lutefisk and enjoy it.”
Jayne stared at him for a moment and then doubled over in laughter. “You made a joke, Paul! I never heard you make a joke before!”
“Does this mean that you have forgiven me for suggesting the work?”
“I guess so.” Jayne blew the dust off an old metronome and put it in the box. “Why aren’t you packing, Paul? I thought you were so hot to work.”
Paul crossed the room and knelt down beside her. “Perhaps you have convinced me to boot back and have fun.”
“Kick back.” Jayne corrected him automatically. “And you don’t know how to have fun.”
Paul didn’t bother to reply. He just lifted her to her feet and whirled her around the room until the “Maple Leaf Rag” had finished with a crashing finale.
“Was that not fun, Jayne?” Paul’s voice was loud in the sudden silence.
Jayne laughed as she reached for another carton and opened it. “I take it all back. By the way, I need a rhyme for a song I’m writing. Can you help me out when we get home?”
“Of course.” Paul glanced over at her, but she was busy filling the carton. When we get home. Was that Jayne’s way of asking him to come back into her life? Or was it just a turn of phrase?
Ellen sighed as she took a stack of sheet music from the shelf and handed it to Walker. It was “Lonesome Hours,” one of Johnny’s early hits. Seeing Johnny’s familiar smile on the cover made her feel like crying. She’d been so sure he loved her. And she’d been so wrong.
“Do you want me to do this, Ellen?” Walker’s voice was gentle. “You could start on the stuff in the closet.”
“No.” Ellen picked up another stack of music and flipped it over so she didn’t have to look at Johnny’s picture. The closet would be even worse. Johnny kept his working clothes there, all the sequined shirts and satin tuxedos he’d worn for his performances. There would be the lingering scent of his expensive cologne and she’d have to fold them and pack them and try not to imagine how he’d looked when he’d sung her favorite songs.
Walker looked up at Ellen as he assembled the next carton. Perhaps she was trying to exorcise ghosts by helping to pack Johnny’s things, but it wasn’t working. “Why don’t you take a break and see how Laureen’s doing in the kitchen? I can finish up in here.”
Ellen shook her head. She knew Walker was trying to spare her, but the kitchen would be even worse. They’d sipped coffee together at Johnny’s kitchen table out of matching mugs. And shared take-out Chinese they’d picked up in town and reheated in his microwave. The silver chopsticks he’d given her for her birthday were still in the drawer by the stove, and the special rice bowl with her name on the side was in the cupboard. No, she didn’t want to set foot in the kitchen.
Thank God Moira hadn’t suggested they pack up the bedroom! One look at Johnny’s bed and Ellen knew she would have been in tears. And the den would have been just as bad. They’d watched late-night movies together, cuddled up on the overstuffed leather couch, eating popcorn and drinking Johnny’s favorite imported beer. The living room was out, too. She’d played hostess there at Johnny’s parties, giving instructions to the caterers and florists, and meeting his friends. The picture she’d given him hung over the fireplace, an original drawing of Johnny onstage that had taken her months to complete. No room in Johnny’s condo was safe from memories.
“Ellen? Are you all right?”
Realizing that Walker was staring at her, Ellen nodded shakily.
“I think that’s enough work for tonight.” Walker taped the box shut and pushed it against the wall. “Come on, Ellen. Let’s go up and open that wine I brought.”
“But there must be twenty boxes left to pack.”
“They can wait.” Walker took her arm and propelled her into the room where Jayne and Paul were working. “We’re knocking off for tonight. Ellen needs some rest.”
“She sure does.” Jayne nodded. “Go to bed, Ellen, honey. You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet.”
Less than ten minutes later, Ellen was sitting on her own couch in her own living room, wearing her new bunny slippers. It was a relief to be home again. Walker came in from the kitchen with the wine and stopped to smile at the slippers. “You look cute with hare on your feet.”
“Thank y
ou.” It was an effort, but Ellen managed to return his smile. “These are the silliest things I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“I knew you’d like them. How’s the wine?”
Ellen took a sip and smiled again. “Perfect.”
When Walker sat down in the big chair across the room, Ellen began to relax. He seemed to know that she didn’t like close contact. She was lucky to have such an understanding friend.
They sat in silence until they’d finished their wine. Then Walker got to his feet. “Can I get you another glass of wine before I go?”
“Go where?” Ellen was puzzled.
“Marc said I could use Johnny’s place since I’m stuck up here with the rest of you.”
“But they’ve packed up all of Johnny’s sheets and bedding. Why don’t you stay here with me?”
The moment the words were out of Ellen’s mouth, she wished she hadn’t said them.
“Do you want to rethink that, Ellen? I know you’re offering your extra bedroom, but some of your neighbors might talk.”
He was reading her mind again! Ellen could feel the color rise to her cheeks. “Forget the neighbors. If you stay here, we can start cleaning up the workroom first thing in the morning.”
“That’s fine with me if you’re sure it won’t cause any problems.” Walker got the wine bottle from the kitchen and refilled her glass. “Take this to bed with you, Ellen. I’m going to start on that cleanup before I turn in.”
Ellen took his advice and finished the wine before she got ready for bed and turned off the lights. It was comforting, knowing that he was only a few steps away. Perhaps she wouldn’t have another nightmare tonight. She’d been absolutely right to tell him she didn’t care what the neighbors thought. It was time she started living her own life.
NINE
After two hours of packing, Clayton had called them all into Johnny’s living room. “Any luck?”
Laureen shook her head. “Nothing in the kitchen. We even rubbed a pencil over the pad of paper by Johnny’s kitchen phone.”
“Why did you do a silly thing like that?” Vanessa giggled.
“It’s not silly at all.” Hal sighed as he explained. “When a person writes, it can leave an impression on the paper underneath. I thought you said you watched Columbo.”
“I must have missed that one. So what did it say?”
“Where’s Ellen?”
“That’s what it said? Where’s Ellen?”
“No.” Alan looked as exasperated as Hal. “We just want to know where Ellen is.”
Jayne spoke up. “Walker took her home. She was all dragged out.”
“Good. We didn’t want to say this in front of her, but one of Johnny’s girlfriends left him a note. It said, Roses are red, violets are blue. Thanks a lot for the screw. And violets was misspelled.”
“That figures.” Marc snorted. “Johnny never picked his girlfriends for their brainpower.”
Laureen noticed that Vanessa’s cheeks were very red. “How do you spell violets, Vanessa?”
“V . . . I . . . oh, who cares.” Vanessa glared at Laureen. “I’m sure you know how to spell it. Tell her what we found, Hal. That’s much more important. It proves Johnny never left on that plane!”
Hal nodded. “We found Johnny’s airplane tickets. One-way to Italy, still in the folder with his itinerary.”
Laureen shrugged. “That doesn’t prove a thing. Johnny might have forgotten them and asked for duplicates at the airport. Or maybe he decided he wouldn’t bother with paper tickets and downloaded e-tickets. I’ve done that a couple of times.”
“So has Gracie.” Moira grinned at her roommate, who was starting to blush. “Except Gracie left the e-tickets at home, too. But we don’t think Johnny left on that plane, either. Grace and I found his telephone bill and there’s not one single overseas call.”
“What does that have to do with the price of apples?” Marc frowned.
“It’s just strange, that’s all,” Grace pointed out. “When my father died, I spent a lot of time on the phone making arrangements with my mother. Of course I tried to call after five when the rates were down, but there were so many things to take care of and the lawyers’ offices were closed after three because there’s a two-hour time difference between Vegas and Indiana and I don’t think it was daylight savings time or there would have been three hours because they don’t have it there, you know. So anyway, my total phone bill was simply . . .”
“I told you those tickets we found were important!” Vanessa interrupted. “Johnny wouldn’t leave without calling Italy to tell his mother what time to meet the plane!”
Clayton held up his hand. “We may be jumping to erroneous conclusions. Johnny could have called from the casino.”
“We thought of that,” Grace continued, “but I was doing a show for Johnny then and I know he never got to the casino more than fifteen minutes before his show because his parking spot was right next to mine. They’ve got the nerve to call it executive parking, but it’s really not because all the spots on the top level are uncovered and if it rains, your car gets wet and you have to walk all the way across . . . Okay, Moira. I know I’m babbling. Anyway, I used to see Johnny pull in at seven forty-five and my girls complained that he left right after the nine o’clock show without even signing autographs.”
“So what does that mean?” Vanessa looked blank.
“It means he couldn’t have called from the casino,” Moira explained. “There’s a six- or seven-hour time difference, and I don’t think Johnny would call his relatives in the middle of the night.”
Clayton looked impressed. “That’s very astute!”
“But it still doesn’t prove anything.” Marc spoke up. “Johnny could have called from his cell phone, or a girlfriend’s phone, or his relatives could have called him. I packed up the stuff in Johnny’s bedroom and I’m positive he left. His suitcases are gone and he took his clothes.”
“His toilet articles are gone, too,” Rachael added. “Toothpaste, toothbrush, comb, razor, antiperspirant.”
Marc looked pleased. “There you go! A man doesn’t pack a suitcase unless he’s planning on taking a trip.”
“A point well taken.” Clayton nodded. “On the other hand, if the two men Vanessa so graphically described engaged in any type of foul play, they may have confiscated the items in question.”
“Huh?” Vanessa frowned.
Rachael assumed her role as interpreter again. “Clay’s saying that if the thugs got to Johnny, they’d take the suitcases to make us think Johnny had left.”
“That’s what I said in the first place!” Vanessa was so excited, she almost shouted. “I told you those two guys looked mean enough to murder him!”
Hal grinned. “Sure, Vanessa. But what did they do with the body?”
“They dug a hole and they buried it. That’s what you do with dead people.”
“They didn’t dig a hole up here. The ground’s been frozen for over two months.”
“Then they took him somewhere else to bury him. Or maybe . . .” Vanessa jumped to her feet. “I know! They chopped Johnny up in pieces and put him in the incinerator! I saw a movie where they did that. Do I win?”
“It’s not a game, child-bride. Is that possible, Alan? Could someone cremate a body in our incinerator?”
Alan shook his head. “No way. Our incinerator doesn’t reach temperatures that high. There’d still be big chunks of bone left behind.”
Vanessa made a face. “Oh, yuck! I know it was my idea, but I’m not going down there to look for Johnny’s bones.”
There was a long silence before Jayne spoke up. “Nobody has to look, Vanessa. There’s nothing in our incinerator except ashes.”
“But how do you know?”
Jayne’s face began to turn red. “Because I dropped something down there yesterday and I had to sift through the ashes to get it back.”
“Grandmother Lindstrom’s silver ice bucket?” Paul sighed as Jayne’s face turned even
redder.
“Well . . . yes. But it only got one little dent that you can hardly notice. And I polished it afterward. I’m sorry, Paul. I promise I’ll never use it for a wastebasket again.”
Paul nodded even though he knew Jayne would forget. She seemed to lack respect for the silver his family had given them as a wedding present. She’d been thrilled to receive it and she kept it beautifully polished, but a few months after their marriage he’d found the coffee server doubling as a vase for flowers and the cream pitcher sitting on top of her piano holding pencils and pens. The only piece that had retained its original purpose was the candelabra and Paul knew that was only because Jayne had yet to find something that would fit into the holes. When he had objected, Jayne had informed him that silver wasn’t any fun if you kept it wrapped up in bags.
“Okay, let’s call it a night.” Clayton yawned and headed for the door. “We can finish up the packing tomorrow.”
Hal took Vanessa’s arm to pull her up, but she refused to budge. “Where’s everyone going? I thought we were going to decide what happened to Johnny.”
“We’ve got all week.” Hal got a better grip on her arm and hauled her to her feet. “I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”
“Oh, sure. You want to go to bed, but you sure don’t want to . . .” Hal squeezed her arm and Vanessa let out a little yelp as he pushed her through the doorway.
“We’re leaving, too.” Moira stood up. “Poor Grace is beginning to droop.”
“True enough,” Grace sighed, “but I wish you wouldn’t point it out in public. You’re no spring chicken either, you know.”
Moira let out a whoop of laughter. “I guess I deserved that one. Come on, Gracie.”
“Me, too.” Marc headed for the door. “I have to check my answer phone. I’m expecting an important call.”
“I’ll bet you ten bucks you didn’t get it.” Rachael looked smug.
“You’re on. This guy promised he’d call right after dinner and he must have called the land line, because I didn’t get any calls on my cell . . . oh, hell!” Marc started to laugh. “I forgot. The phone lines are down and none of our cell phones work.”
