Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by E. E. Kennedy

  To borrow my student Hardy Patchke’s expression, Lily’d been a little squirrely ever since her husband Duane died, over ten years ago. I approved of this match. Alec was thoroughly besotted with Lily, and Lily, for her part, needed a steadying influence. Alec had a way of calming her down that amazed me. Perhaps she loved him, too, in her own way.

  I said a prayer for Alec and Lily that night, though I wasn’t even sure what to pray for.

  Thy will be done.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Oh, good, you’re here.” Lily swept into the kitchen of Chez Prentice the next day and sat down next to me at the huge kitchen table. As usual, she looked cool and crisp in a sleeveless cotton dress with sandals in the exact same shade. Her blonde hair was perfect, of course, tousled just enough to be stylish and not messy.

  “I took a chance you’d be because I want to ask you a question. Amelia, just how old is Sam? I’ve got him out in the carrier in my car with the A/C on, so hurry up and tell me. I don’t want him to get kidnapped—or is it catnapped?” She waved her manicured hand toward the door. “Or my car stolen either. I’m taking him in to update his shots.”

  She smiled her thanks to Hester Swanson, who brought her a glass of iced tea, then spoiled the courteous gesture. “I’ll need a to-go cup for this.”

  Hester shrugged and nodded.

  “Fine, Lily, and how are you?” I took another sip of my milk. “I have no idea how old he is.”

  The Sam she asked about was Samuel de Champlain, my late mother’s elderly, beloved, and moderately obese cat. I had inherited him and recently passed him on to Lily, who was more of a cat-lover than I.

  “Mother found him as a kitten in the parking lot of the Grand Union supermarket ages ago. I don’t even remember when. It was quite a while after Barbara married, I know that.” My sister now resided in Florida with her husband and teenaged brood of four. “Does that help?” I added.

  Lily frowned. “Not particularly. Well, if you don’t remember, I guess I—”

  She reached for her iced tea, but Hester snatched it from in front of her, dumped the contents into a foam container, and snapped the top in place with a practiced air. “That do ya?” She tilted her head and parked fists on her ample hips.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  The Junoesque Hester, our housekeeper and cook, was one of the few people around who was able to hold her own with my friend.

  Lily wrinkled her nose. “The vet thinks he’s at the age when he needs to become an indoor cat, but Sam really hates it, I can tell. He’s taken to sharpening his claws on my tapestry settee and don’t get me started on what he’s done to the fabric blinds. I guess I’ll just have to let him have his freedom to do what comes naturally.” She shuddered as she gathered up her purse. “He brought me a bird the other day. It wasn’t dead. I picked it up with a spatula after he dropped it on the porch and the poor thing flew away. I wonder if Sam’s teeth are all right.”

  “Have you heard from Alec lately?” I interrupted casually.

  She glanced at me, momentarily diverted. “No, not for a few days. He had to break a dinner date with me last night. Why?”

  My heart sank. I shrugged.

  “No reason.”

  She grabbed her keys and snapped to. “Gotta fly. See you!” She was gone.

  I repaired to the office to fetch my tutoring materials. The B&B’s office was my father’s former study. Marie LeBow, our general manager, sat behind Papa’s big desk scanning a piece of paper. She glanced up as I entered.

  “Amelia? I have a question. I’ve been looking over our list of linens. Would you know if your mother had any extra-long tablecloths put away somewhere, maybe in the attic? I mean, ones that would fit when we put all the leaves in the dining room table?”

  I pulled open the file drawer marked “Amelia” and extracted two textbooks and a long legal pad. “I’m not sure. Perhaps. I only remember my folks using all three leaves one time, for a family reunion. You could check in the back of the big linen closet upstairs. What do you need it for?”

  I was well aware that I’d ended a sentence with a preposition. Sometimes it was just too difficult to constantly maintain proper grammar.

  Marie’s quizzical expression changed to an elated one. “We have a big, big event coming up, a retirement party for some kind of show-business person. We’ll be catering it too. They want dinner and a cake and everything, and there’ll be some family from out of town staying here. We’ll be full up—isn’t that great? It’ll help pay for replacing the front lawn next spring.”

  Ever since my business partners Marie and her husband Etienne had opened my old family home as a bed and breakfast, they’d been systematically sprucing up the place.

  She returned to the issue at hand. “But I was hoping I wouldn’t have to buy another tablecloth.”

  Marie was nothing if not practical.

  Lily stepped into the room. “You do, too, have one.”

  She must have been listening at the door. She strolled in as though she was part of the conversation and not just an eavesdropper. I should have realized she was there when the scent of Toujours Moi filled the room.

  “At least, you used to.”

  “Did you go to the veterinarian already? I know it’s not far, but you certainly were quick.”

  “They told me to leave him there. They had to do, um, various things. Better them than me. But as I was saying, I know you have one.”

  Marie and I spoke together. “Have what?”

  “A long tablecloth. My mother borrowed it from your mother once, Amelia. Cream-colored linen, with cutwork flowers in the corners. There used to be some napkins to go with it; about ten, I think. I’ll bet it’s up in the attic.” She raised her eyebrows and looked toward the ceiling.

  “Thanks, I’ll check it out,” Marie said.

  Lily crossed her arms and tilted her head. “But what about this show business person you mentioned? Anybody famous?”

  Marie shrugged. “I don’t think so. A woman named Dierdre Joseph is throwing the party. She’s planning it for her brother. Name’s Jamie something.”

  Lily and I looked at each other. “Not Jamison, is it?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Clarence, no, wait a minute, Terence Jamison, I think it is.”

  “And her name is Dierdre? His sister?”

  Marie nodded. “That’s right. She’s from Peru.”

  The Peru to which Marie referred was not the far-away South American country, but a small town, just twelve miles down the road. Their high school and our high school were bitter sports rivals.

  Lily smiled. “What do you know? Ol’ Dierdre Jamison’s been here all the time. Do you remember her, Amelia?”

  “Oh, yes.” It was uncanny. “I was just thinking about her the other day. Marie, could I use the computer for a while? I want to do a little research.”

  She stood and came around the desk. “Help yourself. I’m going upstairs.” She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse just before she went out the door. “If there’s an extra-long tablecloth in this house, I’m gonna find it.”

  Lily called after her, “Good luck.”

  I moved around the desk to take a seat at the computer.

  “Hold it. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Getting ready to go online.”

  Lily shook her head. “Move aside. You might break this thing.”

  I was indignant, but I did give her access to Marie’s chair. “We have a computer at our house, you know.” I stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.

  Lily flexed her fingers over the keyboard. “I’ve seen that ancient thing. It’s strictly twentieth century. So are you, if we’re being honest. Don’t you remember telling me you wished they’d bring back the card catalog at the library?”

  “I liked the feeling of control,” I protested, knowing full well it was futile to argue.

  “Now, where do we want to begin? Terence or Dierdre? Let’s start with him.” Sh
e began typing.

  “How did you know what I planned to look up?”

  “Girlfriend, I can read you like a book. Tell me we weren’t both thinking the same thing.” A list of links appeared onscreen. “Okay, here we go! St. Terence, Terence Howard, Terence Hill, Terence Jamison . . . here he is.” She clicked the link and more lists appeared. “Look, here’s mention of Terence and Pat Jamison.”

  I leaned in, and we both read the screen. After the summer Lily and I had worked with them, Terence and Pat had gone back to New York and produced a series of films based on children’s books for public television.

  “I wouldn’t know much about that. I stopped watching kid’s shows when Scooby-Doo went off the air. Look at this.” Lily moved the mouse and clicked on another link.

  “Here’s a review of his nightclub act.” She read aloud, “ ‘Terence Jamison’s Lost Broadway Treasures just trots out old, obscure, unpopular songs. Strictly amateur hour.’ ”

  “I hope Terence hasn’t read this.”

  “If he did, it was so long ago, he’s probably forgotten it. Oh, boy, jackpot! Look at this!”

  On Wikipedia, there was an entire page about Terence’s iconic role as the Storybook Dragon, a character in the popular children’s show Grandma and the Dragon.

  “I’ve heard of it. A couple of my students wrote essays about the program. I can’t believe I didn’t know that was Terence. Look, Lily! Look who played Grandma.” I pointed to a caption beneath a black and white photo of a white-haired woman in a rocking chair with a big red book in her lap, looking up at the Dragon. “Pat Jamison. She must have worn a wig.”

  “Or maybe her hair really had turned white,” Lily said.

  Apparently, the program’s goal was to encourage third graders and older children to read chapter books on their own. The series lasted for about ten years before it was cancelled.

  Lily searched some more. “That’s it. That’s all I can find on them, but just out of curiosity . . . ” She began typing again: “Neil Claussen.”

  I leaned forward. “He has a website: NeilClaussenHeadliner.com.”

  “Had a website,” Lily said. “The last thing in here is over seven years old. I think the word headliner was just wishful thinking. Look over here.”

  She was right. According to another show business website, Neil had done some tiny walk-on roles in several long-ago sitcoms and appeared in a nightclub somewhere in Connecticut. The last thing was a mention of his starring in a dinner theatre production of the old musical Sherry in central Oklahoma about six years ago. There was nothing about being on Broadway.

  “Remember that fight in the alley right after he lost that part in a play? He blamed Danny. He was—or is—really talented, but it looks like his career never really got off the ground again.”

  “Maybe he was right about it being Danny’s fault. Or rather, his uncle’s fault,” I said. “They seemed to truly hate each other after that fight. And I remember what you said about violin cases?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Lily half smiled. “I’m kind of sorry I was so mean to him back then.”

  “You were a child, Lily. We both were.”

  “True.”

  “Besides, there was that betting thing.”

  Lily frowned. “I’m still not sure I believe that.”

  We looked up Dierdre Jamison Joseph, but all we found was her wedding announcement from a newspaper archive, dated fourteen years ago.

  “What about Danny? Let’s look him up.”

  “Haven’t you heard about that? He’s dead.” Sad as the news was, it was still a coup to know something Lily didn’t.

  “What? Oh, no, that gorgeous man! What happened? Where did you hear this?”

  “He was murdered. It was a terrible thing. I’ve got a newspaper article at home. I’ll let you read it. But look, Lily, I have to get going. I have a tutoring session in ten minutes.” I scooped up my materials.

  Lily glanced at her watch. “Oh yes, I’ve got to run too! I told them I’d pick up Sam about this time. They promised that after all those procedures, they’d give him a bath. He won’t be feeling himself.”

  As I bid Lily goodbye and waited for my pupil to arrive, I said a quick, silent prayer for the veterinarian.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Several days later, Alec ambled over to the kitchen table at Chez Prentice, buttoned his sport coat, squared his shoulders, and placed his big hand on his burly chest, Napoleon-style. “Tell me, how do I look?”

  I regarded Alec over the rim my ubiquitous cup of decaf. “Very nice, Alec. I’ve always liked you in that suit. Do you have another date with Lily?” I said the last sentence slowly and with meaning, sending a knowing glance his way.

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes, only shook his shaggy head and took a seat. “Would that I did, m’dear. Nothing so pleasant, I assure you. I’m meeting with a board of directors on an important matter.”

  Gil drained his cup of what he called high-test java. “Sounds serious.”

  “Oh, aye, it is. These are the corporate people. They want to know about my progress before they advance me any further funds.” He stroked his spade-shaped beard nervously. “I’ve a feeling that they’re about to put an end to them.”

  “Oh, dear! What would that mean? Would you have to stop hunting for the creature?” Alec had already lost all of his government grants, due to budget cutbacks, and now this.

  “I don’t know, Amelia. Maybe, maybe not. It’s partly because of the Japanese, y’see.”

  Gil frowned. “The Japanese?”

  “It was a few years back. A scientific team from one of their finest universities came here. They had all the latest gear, boats, sonar, the lot. Charming fellows, really, and truly open minded, at first. They trolled the lake, end to end, and concluded that there’s something there, but it’s probably merely pike. Pike, I ask you! It’s brought up by the board every time we meet. So far I’ve managed to convince them that there’s far more to the story.”

  “But if they say no, you could lose the Sweet Afton!”

  Alec’s boat held a special place in my heart. It had been there when I needed it. But it was probably legally owned by the conglomerate that had been endowing his project all these years.

  “Now, now, don’t be upsetting the bairn,” He looked significantly at my pregnant middle and patted my hand. “And don’t go borrowin’ trouble, Amelia, not at a time like this. I prefer to err on the optimistic side. The Sweet Afton’s mine. That is, mine and the bank’s.”

  He spoke calmly, but the rolling r’s in his speech betrayed him. He was troubled.

  Hester Swanson placed a cup and saucer before him. “I know you like a cup of tea. Let me get you some of that English Breakfast stuff you like.”

  “Many thanks, but not now, dear lady. My appointment is at three.” He stood. “Just spare a wee prayer for me, would you?”

  That reminded me. “Have you a hymn for today?” I asked gently. Alec had an astounding memory for hymns.

  “‘Have Thine Own Way, Lord,’ ” he murmured with a faint smile.

  With everyone’s good wishes echoing after him, he left the kitchen and we heard Chez Prentice’s big front door close.

  Two hours later, Gil had repaired to the newspaper office. Young Serendipity Shea and I were going over her practice English Regents’ test when the front door at Chez Prentice opened and someone strode heavily through the foyer and into the dining room.

  I looked up. “Vern!” I yelped involuntarily. The last time I’d seen Gil’s nephew—my nephew now—was when he’d snubbed us in the supermarket parking lot.

  “Amelia and um . . . ” Vern waved vaguely at my student. He looked a little embarrassed as he dumped an armful of wadded-up quilted fabric on the opposite end of the dining room table. “I don’t need this now. I got some new stuff for my place.”

  “I told you all the linens were yours to keep.”

  I tried hard to hide the annoyance in my voice. Vern Thomas had lived i
n our spare bedroom at the lake house for several months until our falling out last winter. Apparently encounters with him were going to continue to be strained.

  He shook his large, blond, thick head. He needed a haircut, but it wasn’t my problem, nor was it my place to point it out.

  “Not that bedspread. Not my style. I thought maybe Marie and Etienne could use it in one of the guest rooms.”

  I couldn’t help it. “Just what is your style? Early Chaos?”

  I was remembering the way he’d maintained his room at our place. Vern was a brilliant graduate student but a total slob and had formerly been a good sport about my teasing. This time, however, I immediately regretted my crack. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, especially not now.

  He drew himself up to his full, six-foot-three height. “I’ve been told I have a good eye for color,” he informed me stiffly. I could sense a trace of pride in his voice.

  “And do you also have a good ear for Melody?”

  Melody Branch was his current girlfriend. I suspected she was redecorating his place.

  He blushed to the roots of his hair. There was the ghost of a smile, quickly followed by a disapproving scowl, but no answer to my jibe.

  I decided to offer hospitality. “Look, Serry and I are just finishing up here. Time we all took a break. Why don’t you go into the kitchen and ask Hester if she has any more of Valerie’s famous lemon cookies?”

  Vern shrugged. “Okay, but I can’t stay long.”

  He exited with a nod to my student. He could always manage to be civil when food was involved.

  Serendipity watched him leave. “That’s your nephew, huh?”

  I sighed. “For better or for worse. He’s Gil’s late sister’s son.”

  “Whatever.” She tucked a violet-streaked, blonde strand behind her ear. “I’ve seen him around town. He’s kind of cute.”

  “We all think so,” I replied dryly, then turned my attention back to her test. “You’re doing much better on these, Serry. If you keep on studying like this, your classes this fall won’t be hard at all.” I gathered the study materials and began replacing them in my book bag. “Let’s adjourn to the kitchen for a snack.”