by Jane Tesh
“I’ve noticed the reaction.”
“I guess it’s to be expected. Everyone knows Wendall left Larissa Norton to marry another woman. But Larissa didn’t do herself any favors. Wendall’s always been very ambitious. Larissa didn’t understand that. He wanted to give her everything, and for some reason, she didn’t want him to.”
“That sounds odd.”
“Only thing I can figure is since Larissa was so poor growing up, she felt like he was wasting his money.” One of the workmen came up to ask her a question about the color of the walls. “Yeah, everything along that wall is cream,” she told him. “The ones up here are pale willow and off-white.” She turned back to me. “You might have a case pretty soon. I hear the ladies of the Art Guild are ready to kill each other.”
Nell manages to hear everything that’s happening in town. “The big issue is dead wood versus ping-pong balls. I’m keeping out of it.”
“Just put everybody’s stuff in here. Plenty of room.”
“That was my suggestion, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.” Saying that reminded me of Wendall telling Bea “That’s not going to happen.”
“Nell, what’s the deal with Wendall and Bea Ricter? She tore into him at his reception and told him he needed to do the right thing.”
“Can’t say as I recall anything in particular. Bea was always one of those intense social climbers, always jealous of anyone’s success. Married some rich fella from Raleigh and moved there for a while, but the marriage didn’t work out, so she and her son came back here.”
“She has a son?” I envisioned a round, angry little boy.
“Yeah, but he’s grown, lives somewhere else. Visits her every now and then. From what I hear, Bea didn’t get much out of the divorce. That could make her cranky.” Nell picked up her can of paint and paintbrush. “Gotta get back to work. Whenever the Guild declares a truce, the walls will be ready.”
***
While Nell returned to supervising the remodeling, I walked back to my car and called Jerry to see if he had any leads on Honor Perkins.
“No,” he said. “I called that number several times and got the same recording. I also called my pal who’s a real lawyer, and he said we would’ve received more than just a plain letter. I promise you this is a scam, Mac. When you get home, let’s drive to Millersberg and find this Denby Forest.”
Something I definitely wanted to do. “All right. You’re on your own for lunch. I’ve been invited to the Clarkes’.”
“Tell Baby Flo hello from me.”
***
The house Wendall and Flora were renting in River Ridge was huge and modern with an oddly slanted roof that made the house look as if it might take off and fly away. Inside, the rooms looked cold and formal, but there was nothing cold or formal about Flora Clarke’s welcome when she answered the door.
“I’m so glad you could come! Wendall has business in Parkland, so it’s just the two of us. I thought we’d eat out on the deck, if you don’t mind. It’s such a beautiful fall afternoon.”
The deck overlooked a wooded area filled with bright yellow trees. A lunch of fruit salad, chicken salad croissants, and iced tea had been set on an elegant wrought-iron table. “This looks delicious.”
“Please, sit down. I hope you like everything.”
I slipped into one of the floral-patterned chairs. “I’m sure I will.”
Flora was wearing a dress in soft fall colors and a light gold sweater. A distinctive bracelet made of gold and bright yellow leaves dangled from her wrist. She sat across from me and spread her napkin in her lap. This was my first chance to have a good look at her. She was a beautiful woman, her face further enhanced by an expertly applied layer of makeup, including subtle pink rouge and matching lip gloss. A soft gray eye shadow complemented her blue eyes, which appeared to be larger, thanks to eyeliner and thick false eyelashes. And if I wasn’t mistaken, all that golden hair was not her own.
“Have you seen the gallery?” she asked. “It’s going to be a wonderful place.”
“I stopped by just a little while ago. Looks like it’ll be ready in no time.”
“Wendall went to Parkland to interview a potential curator. He wants to find the perfect person.”
“Has he considered hiring someone from Celosia?”
“You know, I told him that might be a good idea, but he didn’t agree. I thought it might help things.” She sighed. “Madeline, I haven’t known you very long, but I feel as if I can confide in you.”
“I’ll be happy to listen.”
Once again, she played with a curl of the golden hair. “It’s like this. I didn’t set out to ruin anyone’s marriage. Wendall and I fell in love at first sight. It just happened. We couldn’t help it. He was so unhappy because Larissa never understood his big plans. As for my ex-husband, he had no ambition whatsoever, and whenever I got him to try something, it always fell apart. I’m sorry Larissa is still so angry, but Wendall and I were meant to be together.”
“Sometimes these things happen, Flora.”
“He wants to give this town something grand and important. I think that a beautiful new art gallery would be just the thing.”
To make the town forgive him? “I hope people will appreciate it.”
“Oh, I think an art gallery is a splendid idea,” she said. “People need the arts, you know. Well, of course you know. You’re an artist. But were you really Miss Parkland?”
“Yes, I was.”
“You didn’t want to continue?”
“I entered Miss Parkland because I wanted to and I needed the money, but from the time I was very small, it was all my mother’s idea.”
“People always said I should be in pageants, but I was much too shy to be on stage.”
“Being in a pageant will take care of your shyness, believe me.” I liked Flora, but there was something forced in her friendliness, as if she were trying too hard to be agreeable. She’d make a great pageant girl. No, that wasn’t fair. She was new in town and had been thrust into an unpleasant situation.
She took a sip of tea. “But you’re really a detective, Madeline. Have you solved any mysteries?”
“When I first moved to town, I helped solve the murder of a Miss Celosia Pageant contestant.”
“Murder at a pageant? That must have been very strange.”
“It was a Twilight Zone moment. But having pageant experience came in handy.” And one of those handy experiences was the ability to tell a fake smile from a real one, and I wanted to believe Flora’s was real. “Then not long after that, a director wanted to use my house for the set of a monster movie, and someone killed him.”
“And you solved that mystery?”
“Yes, and next, an unpopular teacher was found dead at the elementary school, and it turned out she had been murdered. I didn’t think I’d find much work in Celosia, but every now and then somebody goes wild.”
She gave a little laugh. “Well, if you find me murdered, you’ll know who done it. Larissa Norton.”
I sincerely hoped not.
“Besides Larissa, did Wendall ever tell you anything about Bea Ricter? She seemed very upset at the reception. Do you have any idea what she meant by telling him to do the right thing?”
Again she toyed with the curl of hair. “I’m not sure what’s going on there. He is doing the right thing by opening this gallery. Maybe she’s afraid he won’t let her show her work.”
“He also told her, ‘That’s not going to happen.’”
“He said she was still angry about something that happened a long time ago. He knew not everyone in Celosia would welcome him back. Sometimes when you’re that popular, you have a lot of people who are jealous.” Flora picked up a croissant and took a dainty bite. “There comes a time when you have to let things go.”
That was true, but I sen
sed there was more to this than some petty high school envy. “Did he mention what that something was?”
“Well, now, that’s the odd thing, Madeline. Bea’s angry at him, but she won’t tell him why. I think they need to sit down and straighten things out.”
Well, it was usually sex or money. “Did they have a relationship at one time?”
“I don’t know. That doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
“Does he owe her money?”
“I don’t know that, either.” Her hand went back to her hair. Maybe she was afraid it was going to fall off. “I’m just glad we’re not planning on living here. Why don’t we talk about something else?”
***
I spent a pleasant hour and a half with Flora and promised to visit again. Before I went back to Pamela’s shop, I stopped by Celosia High School, located out near the highway. The school looked new—a sprawl of light-pink brick buildings with shiny green roofs connected by covered walkways. The parking lot was as large as the football field. I found a visitor’s spot, parked, and went into the office where I was given a visitor’s badge and directed to the media center. There a helpful student showed me the yearbooks from the years Wendall, Larissa, Pamela, and Bea had gone to Celosia High.
Wendall looked the same, only darker. A long list of accomplishments was under his name. Larissa and Pamela had been very attractive. Teenage Larissa’s hair was down past her shoulders, and her eyes were soulful. Young Pamela’s hair still misbehaved, but in a different style. However, the high school version of Bea was a revelation. Her hair was long and curly, and her eyes crinkled as she smiled. Her picture practically glowed. She looked young and radiant and ready to face the world. So maybe there had been some sort of relationship with Wendall. Maybe he broke her heart. That kind of pain could last a lifetime.
All three women had been in the same clubs; all three were on the soccer team. I looked for the picture of the team in the athletics section of the yearbook. There they stood, side by side on the field: Larissa, Pamela, and Bea. At one time, they must have been friends.
What happened?
***
I drove back to Pamela’s shop, where I spent a not-so-pleasant hour and a half digging through another file cabinet. When my eyes began to cross, I went home. It was not quite time for Denisha to be out of school. Jerry was waiting for me on the porch. He wanted to go to Millersberg right away, but I told him I’d like to wait and give Denisha the good news about Austin and Kennedy.
“Then we’ll go to Millersberg. We can stop back by Baxter’s for supper.”
Jerry agreed. “All right, but I want to take care of this problem as soon as possible.”
“Any idea what caused this problem? Sounds like you and Honor have a history.”
“Just a history of cons, that’s all.”
“Look me in the eye and say that.”
He did. “Just a history of cons, that’s all.” He looked exactly the same.
“I can never tell when you’re lying.”
“Okay, now I’m going to tell a lie.” He kept his gaze right on me. “I really don’t like Baxter’s barbecue.”
“You sound the same.”
“That’s the whole idea. Keep eye contact and speak in a neutral tone. But I promise, Honor and I were only friends and partners in a few schemes.”
“And one of those schemes went south and she’s blaming you? Any idea which one?”
“I think I know, and it was sort of my fault. You don’t want the details, do you?”
I really didn’t. “Maybe later. What have you been doing today?”
“Taking charge of my own destiny.”
“That could mean a lot of things.”
“Job-hunting.”
“Great! Any luck?”
“I’ve set up a couple of interviews for later in the week, one with Tecknilabs, and one with Southern Foods. Both are sales positions. I don’t have any experience with sales, but it can’t be that much different from running cons. You’re trying to get people to buy something you make them believe they can’t live without.”
“I can see where that might work for you.”
“I’ve also been practicing. You can have a private concert while you wait for Denisha.”
I sat on the porch while he played selections from Oklahoma, occasionally putting his own spin on the tunes, so I heard “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning” reggae style, and “Kansas City” as a slow blues. Around three-thirty, Denisha rode up on her bike, hopped up the porch steps, and plopped into a rocking chair.
“Whatcha got for me, Madeline?”
“Good news,” I said. “I investigated the problem and found out Austin is only interested in Kennedy because of the Wow System. He told me so himself.”
“You didn’t mention me, I hope.”
“Not at all.”
She nodded as if mulling over this information. “Well, that’s what I thought, but I wanted to be sure. Thanks, Madeline.”
“My pleasure. And it didn’t take as much time as I planned, so I owe you a refund.” I handed her three dollars back.
“Okay.” She solemnly shook my hand. “What are the chances of Jerry buying a Wow?”
“I’ll have to ask him.”
“Because if Jerry has one here, then Austin won’t go to Kennedy’s.”
“If Jerry has one what?” He walked out in time to hear.
“A Wow System,” Denisha said.
“Depends on how much it costs.”
She handed him the three dollars. “Here’s a start.”
He laughed. “I’m not going to take your money. Mac and I are going to Millersberg this afternoon. I’ll check on the prices.”
“It’s important,” she said. “If you have one, then Austin will stop hanging around Kennedy so much.”
“I will definitely look into it.”
She thanked him and rode off.
“Denisha’s a good name,” Jerry said. “Not as forceful as Hortensia, though.”
Hortensia was the name he’d given our non-existent daughter. “Where did that come from?”
“I looked up some names on the Internet. I was trying to find Honor. She used to have a website.”
“Scam Artists dot com?”
“Fly By Night dot com.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. You put it out front so people can’t say they weren’t warned. But it’s not there anymore. She either changed it, or moved on.”
“Well, let’s move on and see if we can find her. I’ll drive.”
***
On the way to Millersberg, Jerry went down a long list of baby names.
“How about Adelaide?”
“Too old-fashioned.”
“Ambrosia?”
“Isn’t that some kind of coconut dessert?”
“Cephorah?”
“Too Biblical.”
“Dauphine?”
“Sounds like a cough medicine.”
“Guess it’s Hortensia, then,” he said.
“Why are you naming a baby that might not ever be?”
“You said you’d think about it.”
“That’s a long way from having one.”
He looked at my expression, folded the list, and put it in his pocket. “How was lunch with Baby Flo?”
“Interesting. According to Flora, Wendall left Larissa because she didn’t understand or appreciate his ambitions. Flora left her husband for the same reasons. Apparently, he was a slacker, and she had more expensive tastes. She’s quite dazzling, but my experienced pageant eye noticed a lot of her glamour is store-bought.”
“Such as?”
“Besides the fake eyelashes and fingernails, she had very realistic hair extensions and loads of makeup, but she’s one of those women who can
carry off this look. No wonder the other women hate her. But I like her. I think she’s a really sweet person who’s caught in the middle of a highly charged emotional situation.”
“Was Wendall there?”
“He’d gone to Parkland to find a curator. Flora and I agreed it would be better if he chose someone from Celosia.”
He grinned. “Like you, for instance?”
“Oh, no. Don’t go there. I was thinking of someone like Pamela Finch. At least she’s had experience running a business.”
“Does Pamela want to do it?”
“She acts all flustered and modest, but I believe she’s been dreaming of an opportunity like this.”
“Is her work any good?”
“It’s not too bad. Larissa made some very disparaging remarks about it, though.”
“So if Pamela ran the gallery she could display her work and thumb her nose at Larissa.”
“I’m sure that’s occurred to her.”
“What about the other members of the Guild?” Jerry asked. “Suppose Wendall chooses Pamela? Won’t there be intense in-fighting over whose work goes where?”
“I’m sure that’s going to happen no matter who Wendall chooses. Here’s something else I found out. Larissa, Pamela, and Bea were all on the high school soccer team, and from the picture, you’d have to believe at one time they liked each other. And since all three were very attractive girls, I think Wendall played the field.”
“The entire soccer field.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. I think he broke Bea’s teenaged heart, and she has yet to forgive him.”
“That’s the secret grudge she’s holding?”
“According to Nell, Bea married a fellow from Raleigh and the marriage didn’t work out. Maybe that guy was Mr. Rebound.”
“It’s a good theory.”
“Never underestimate the power of teen angst. But let’s take care of your problem first.”
I rarely see Jerry look grim. Even his choice of ties for the trip was serious: little white skulls and bones on black.
“Believe me, I’m ready,” he said.
Chapter Seven
Millersberg wasn’t much more than a suburb of Parkland, a bedroom community with its own post office and strip malls. Even though it was small, I thought we might have some difficulty locating Mrs. Forest. I had underestimated Jerry’s network. We parked at a gas station, and he called someone named Peedee, who knew everyone in town and gave him an address.
