by Jane Tesh
“You’ll also be happy to know Folly has the right numbers now, and the deluxe face cream will premiere at the Miss Parkland Pageant.”
“Kary said something about that.”
“Kary also said you might like to invite your mother to the wedding.”
He gave the Pop-Tarts his full attention. “She wouldn’t come.”
“She might. Send her an invitation and see what happens. And did you invite Daisy?”
“I did. She’s not sure she can make it.”
“I can go get her.”
“She knows that’s an option. She’s not feeling well.”
I could tell that was the end of this discussion. “Kary found out some interesting things about George and Viola that may be the connection I’ve been looking for. The set designer for Arsenic and Old Lace overheard a conversation in which Viola accused George of giving her a defective cream. When she threatened to tell, he begged her not to.”
“Begged her? That doesn’t sound like George.”
“Didn’t you tell me you felt pain in Millicent’s face and hands? I think George gave both women some BeautiQueen that didn’t agree with them.”
“An earlier version of the secret formula?”
“He probably thought he was doing them a huge favor by letting them preview the wonder cream. We know Viola was concerned about getting older. She may have been excited to try it and really disappointed when it reacted on her skin.”
“Arsenic and Old Lace was in February. Wouldn’t Viola have told Folly by now?”
“Viola was a crafty gal. I think she agreed not to say anything so she’d have something to hold over George to make him leave her alone.”
“What about Millicent? The same thing happened to her.”
“She either went along with Viola, or she forgot. If Viola changed her mind and was planning to expose George, he’d have to get rid of her. His wonder cream was going to win over Amelia—whom he proposed to, by the way—and make enough money for him to create his own company. A bad review from a powerful woman in the community would ruin his chances. He’s got all the motives for murder, greed, revenge, jealousy, and love.”
“Okay, so how did he do it?”
“Let’s suppose Viola calls him. She’s decided to expose him, maybe even go to the Herald. He says can we talk about this. Maybe offers her money. He comes by her house with a peace offering, a bottle of wine. No, wait. Millicent made sure Viola got the bottle of wine.”
“George could’ve stopped by to make certain she drank it.”
“All right, we’ll say he does. He stops by. He’s on his very best behavior. They come to an agreement. They drink on it, only George doesn’t drink. Viola is poisoned, dies, and he buries her. He has plenty of time to dig a grave. He’s a muscular guy, so he can haul her body down to the basement. Problem solved.”
“Except he may be dead.”
“That’s the kink in my theory. Are you getting any sort of feeling one way or the other?”
He refilled his soda. “I’m having a little trouble concentrating these days. If you want some black and white patterns that aren’t making sense, I’ve got plenty of those for you.” He finished his Pop-Tarts. “I do know Ellie and her sisters are on their way. Let’s get out of the house before they carry me off again.”
***
Our first stop was the Drug Palace where Ted handed me the last of the yin yang bracelets. “Might as well get rid of these things. Maybe Kary would like it.”
“She will, thanks.”
“Sorry I don’t have but one left, Cam. If you think Ellin would like one, I could order another.”
“Let me see that.” Camden took the bracelet in his hand. He stared at it for such a long time I thought it had turned him to stone.
“Camden?”
“This is it,” he said. “The dominant pattern. I could never get it to stand still.”
“This is the pattern you’ve been seeing?”
“Yes.”
Ted looked at me and shrugged. “It’s a long story,” I said.
Camden kept staring at the bracelet. “I wonder what it means.”
“It’s one of those yin yang things,” Ted said. “It’s supposed to stand for negative and positive, male and female. It’s Asian.”
“I know what the design is. I’m trying to figure out why I’ve been seeing it.”
Ted shrugged again. “You knew I had them in the store, and I was going to give Randall one, how about that? These visions of yours don’t always make much sense, do they?”
“No, and especially not lately.” He gave me the bracelet, and I put it in my pocket.
“Anything else missing?” I asked Ted.
“Nope. Guess I won’t need you for a while.”
“Thanks for thinking of Kary.”
“Got to keep at least one of your women happy,” he said. “Did she go to the BeautiQueen party?”
“No, our friend Angie did. Again, thanks for the tip.”
“I guess the gals have to stick together and keep their stratum corneums as perfect as possible.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“The outside layer of the skin,” Ted said. “All those old cells get pushed to the surface where they die, flatten, and form the outside layer, the stratum corneum.”
“You are a fount of knowledge, Ted.”
“Well, I always found it ironic that all these skin creams and lotions women put all over their faces are products for cells that are dead.”
“And I have learned way more than I need to know about women and their skin care products,” I said. “Catch you later.”
When we got into the car, Camden stared off into the distance. “Stop by George’s house.”
“You think George is there?”
“Something’s not there that should be.”
I put the car in gear. “You know I love it when you go all cryptic on me.”
***
I still had the key Folly had given me, so we let ourselves in George’s house. Camden stood in the middle of the living room. He slowly looked around.
“I keep seeing a pattern of black and white.”
“There isn’t anything black and white here unless—wait a second.” There was something missing. “There should be a big stack of BeautiQueen boxes. I remember them from last time.”
“Were they black and white?”
“I don’t know. They were flat, and now they’re not here.” I checked the other rooms. No boxes. No sign of forced entry. “I wonder if someone from BeautiQueen came by and got them.” I took out my phone and called Folly. “Folly, I’m here in George’s house. He had a big stack of unassembled BeautiQueen boxes. Did someone from the company come get them?”
“I’ll have to ask and see,” she said, “but we wouldn’t need them. We have new boxes for the new cream.”
“Were the old boxes black and white?”
“Yes, and so are the new ones, but we’ve changed the design a little.”
“Camden and I would like to see the new design.”
“Of course! Come on over. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Chapter Twenty-six
“You did it.”
At the BeautiQueen company, Folly took us to the show room where samples of all the products were displayed. The boxes for the Age-Defying Extra Whip Moisturizing Deluxe Face Cream were white with a black and white design like a modified yin yang symbol. Camden was relieved, but he couldn’t stop staring at the box in his hand.
“Folly, I don’t know how to explain this, but I feel there’s something very wrong.”
“About the design? But it’s very much like the old box, only we’re calling this Age-Defying Extra Whip Moisturizing Deluxe Face Cream instead of plain Extra Whip because of our new formula. We
didn’t want to stray too far from our original BeautiQueen logo, and we didn’t have a lot of time to create a whole new design before the pageant.”
“I’m not sure this feeling is about the design.”
“The formula, then? But we’ve tested it rigorously!”
He handed her the box. “I’m sorry. Sometimes these feelings don’t make sense at first.”
“Have you had time to test this formula?” I asked.
Folly turned to me. “We gave it top priority in the lab. Our facilities aren’t very big, but they’re state of the art, I assure you. We’ve been working on this for weeks. I only needed the proper proportions. You say the older boxes were missing from George’s house? That doesn’t make sense, either.”
Unless George was still alive and had some use for them. I didn’t want to trouble Folly with this theory. “We’ll figure it out. Congratulations on the new formula.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I simply can’t wait until pageant night! Think how gorgeous all those girls are going to look! Will you two be there? I hope you can come. I plan to have a short tribute to George. After all, this was his life’s work.”
“We’ll be there,” I said.
***
“Is something wrong with the formula?” I asked Camden when we got back into the car. “I don’t want anyone’s eyebrows falling off.”
“I’m seeing two sets of boxes, and there’s something wrong with one of them.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “That’s all I’m getting right now.”
“Maybe some leftover telekinesis is getting in the way of the true vibes.”
My cell phone rang. This time it was Ellin.
“Is Cam with you?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Tell him to turn on his cell phone.”
I turned to Camden. “Is your cell phone off?”
“For this very reason.”
“Randall, he needs to have his final fitting. Would you take him there, please?”
“Since you asked so nicely, sure.” I hung up. “Your sweetie has the rest of the day scheduled for you. How about a couple of hot dogs to fortify you for the tasks ahead?”
***
We stopped by Janice Chan’s hot dog place for chili cheese dogs, fries, and Cokes. It was two o’clock, way past the lunch rush, but all of the tables inside and out were full, so we ate in the car. Even fortified, Camden wasn’t ready to get back into his tux. I suggested we take a detour by the theater and check out Kary’s pageant practice.
The stage had been transformed into a series of glittery staircases with sparkly hologram stars dangling from the ceiling. The pageant contestants were rehearsing the opening number. Kary gave us a wave as she twirled by.
We found seats near the back of the auditorium. Camden still looked preoccupied.
“Everything’s good and fuzzy right now, although I’m picking up something that’s not quite right here.”
“All those scheming queens. Their vibes are bound to be shrieking.”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“Is a sandbag going to fall on someone?”
“No sandbag.”
“We have got to get you married and back on track.” I had a chilling thought. “You don’t see anything happening to Kary, do you?”
He didn’t answer my question. “Something’s not right. If this stupid pattern would just stand still.”
“Is it one pattern or a whole bunch of patterns?”
“It’s the same pattern on those bracelets at Ted’s and on the BeautiQueen boxes. But it means something else.”
“Use your scary new power to make it stand still.”
A serious-looking woman with a clipboard came up the aisle and told us we had to leave. “The pageant starts at eight,” she said. “Buy a ticket.”
We gave Kary a good-bye wave and left the theater. Back to Reynaldo’s. It took an hour to get the suit exactly right, and I’d exhausted my supply of snide remarks. I told Camden I’d wait for him in the car.
As I got into the Fury, I noticed the BeautiQueen brochure on the floor of the passenger’s seat. I picked it up for a better look. Sometime during our lunch, either Camden or I had dropped a big glob of mustard on the brochure, right on George McMillan’s picture. The mustard covered George’s moustache. Random thoughts suddenly jumped into my mind.
I remembered Camden wiping off his makeup and saying, “I don’t know how women stand this stuff. It’s like wearing a mask.” I remembered Millicent Crotty telling me she taught George how to use stage makeup. I thought about the girl with no eyebrows, how Danger the doberman seemed completely at ease with a woman who said she rarely saw his owner, and how the pattern Camden finally recognized depicted male and female together in one symbol.
I looked at the picture of George with mustard where his moustache should be. I’d had earlier thoughts about this being a good way for George to disguise himself. He was a medium-sized man with the compact build not uncommon in some women. What if George shaved off his distinctive moustache, plucked his eyebrows, slathered on a ton of peach makeup, and put on a wig? Presto! He becomes bereaved Cousin Lucy, who claims Edwin Bailey’s body as George’s and no one’s the wiser. Would he start stealing ingredients in the hopes of making his own skin cream? Why go to such incredible lengths to duplicate a formula that might not work?
I needed to have a talk with Cousin Lucy.
“And I’m going with you.” Camden hopped into the car, still in his tux.
I must have been broadcasting louder than I realized. “Did you get all that?”
“The possibility Lucy might be George? In wide screen and Technicolor.”
“You want to change clothes first?”
“No time,” he said. “That something very wrong about the BeautiQueen boxes I mentioned? It has to do with Lucy, or George, or whoever he is.”
If Camden was seeing something very wrong, I wasn’t going to argue, but one thing puzzled me. “Why didn’t you sense he might be hiding his identity behind BeautiQueen goo?”
“Are you kidding? With everything I’ve had to deal with? You’re lucky I’m getting anything at all that has to do with you.”
As I drove out to Lucy’s house, he examined the brochure.
“It’s a good thing one of us is a sloppy eater,” I said.
“His hatred for women is growing stronger. He’s planning something.”
“I thought he wanted to create the ultimate skin cream.”
“I need to see inside the house.”
***
The van and George’s SUV were parked in the driveway of Lucy’s house. I knocked, and Lucy Warner peered out. Seeing the stout square figure in the doorway, the wide shoulders and thick legs I’d thought were the result of a somewhat butch P.E. teacher’s days as a tennis coach took on a whole new meaning.
“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Randall. Have you found out anything more about George?”
“I sure have,” I said. “May we come in? This is my friend, Camden. We’ll only be a minute.”
“I’m really very busy.” Now I could hear the masculine overtones in “Lucy’s” gruff voice. “You’ll have to come back another time.”
“But I’ve found George.”
“What?”
“I’m looking at him.”
“Looking at him?”
“I think the folks at the theater would be surprised that you’re such a good actor.”
She took a step back. “You’re crazy. Get out of here before I call the police.”
“Go ahead. I think the police would like to know what you did with Edwin Bailey’s body. Maybe you buried it in the cellar, too.”
“Edwin Bailey? What are you talking about?”
“Your fraternity pal, Ed, the one who looks enough
like you to be your suicide stand in.”
“Lucy” spun and dashed into the house. Camden and I ran after him. George opened the back door and let the doberman in.
Danger rushed for me, teeth barred, looking like every hideous doberman attack I’d ever seen on TV. The dog came straight for my throat. For a horrible second, I thought my last sight on earth would be mad eyes and a foam-flecked mouth filled with fangs. Even if the dog didn’t kill me, I could be maimed for life. I braced for the impact and the ripping of flesh. God, there was no way out!
“Danger, stop!” Camden shouted. The dog halted in mid-air, jaws open, muscles bunched, claws outstretched, and stayed firmly in place, quivering, thanks to Camden’s latest talent. I caught only a glimpse of this, being occupied with George McMillan trying to rearrange my face. I elbowed him in the jaw, grabbed his arms and forced him back. He twisted out of my grasp, so furious he didn’t notice the animals, cushions, and knickknacks drifting up and around to join Danger in suspended animation.
We were surrounded by screaming airborne cats and birds frozen in mid-flight as Camden’s power filled the room. At one point in the struggle, I stepped on the poor lizard’s tail right before it joined the creatures above us. I didn’t know they made noises like that. With a wild cry, George leaped at me. His fingers clawed at my collar, gripped it tight, and smacked my head against the floor. He might have done more damage, but his wig slipped over his eyes, giving me the chance to punch him smack in his peach-colored face. He fell back with a grunt. I scrambled to my feet and hauled him up. He was a wreck, his wig askew, his thick makeup oozing off in sweaty streaks.
I gave him another punch as animals and objects sank slowly to the floor. The cats ran off, tails bristling, and the birds settled onto the back of a chair except for the parrot, which clung to the draperies, squawking. The lizard gave me an offended look and burrowed under a cushion. Camden sat on the floor, Danger affectionately licking and chewing his hair. He kept a firm grip on the dog’s collar.
I shook George hard. “What I really want to know is why you killed Viola Mitchell.”
He laughed harshly. “That old bag! She was pissed because the cream I gave her didn’t work on her! Nothing would work on her ancient skin! She threatened me, held that threat over me, said she’d go to the media. Turns out I have her to thank.”
