by Jane Tesh
She went into the house, and Jerry looked at me, his gray eyes dark with anger. “I hope to hell nothing evil happened to that baby.”
I was trying not to think about the missing baby and what a group of desperate and delusional women might have done, but my emotion must have shown on my face, for Jerry caught me in a comforting embrace.
“I don’t have to go to the camp’s open house today.”
“Yes, you do. Nathan’s counting on you. I’ll be okay. I need to talk to the other girls on Annie’s list and have another talk with Lauren Garrett. I need to find out if any of Nell’s information ties to Eric Levin’s murder. Now more than ever, I want to solve this.”
I wanted to solve everything.
Chapter Eight
During breakfast at Deely’s, the diner was buzzing with the news of Harold’s murder. I sat at the counter so I could watch Jerry scramble eggs and fry bacon for the customers crowding in for takeout orders. Everyone had a theory, including one involving a serial killer who had wandered over from Parkland. The Geezer Club gathered in their same corner booth and held forth that Amanda always looked as if she could murder someone, while people who worked in the stores and banks along Main Street decided Amanda was set up.
“Any idea who might do that?” I asked one young woman as she reached around me for her bacon biscuit to go.
She tugged an extra napkin from the holder. “From what I hear, Amanda’s got plenty of enemies in town. Quite frankly, I’m surprised someone hasn’t killed her.”
“I’d talk to Joanie Raines,” said another woman further down the counter. “She was very unhappy with the way she was treated at tryouts.”
“Hey, what’s going to happen to the play now?” someone else chimed in. “Are they still going to have it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Solving Harold’s murder might be more important.”
This set off another firestorm of argument between people who agreed with me and people who were appalled by the thought of losing their chances to be in an outdoor drama. I ate my own bacon biscuit and drank my coffee. Amanda had plenty of enemies. The question was, did Harold?
***
After the breakfast rush was over, Jerry put on his khaki shorts and green-and-yellow tee-shirt and headed out to Camp Lakenwood’s open house while I drove over to Amanda’s house. If anyone thought Harold’s murder would halt production on Flower of the South, they were wrong. When I arrived, Amanda was meeting with Constance Tate in her kitchen, a vast room gleaming with stainless steel appliances, as cold and sterile as an operating room. It looked as if the kitchen had never been used. No cheerful canister sets, trivets, dishcloths, or any of the items that generally decorate a kitchen. Either Amanda was a neat freak, or she always ate out. The cast list for Flower of the South spread out on one of the granite counter tops. Constance was making notes on another sheet of paper.
Calm, icy Constance. Was it possible the baby had been hers? Was there any way to see if she still had her coven tattoo? She never said much, probably because Amanda did all the talking. When Amanda left the room to take a phone call, I told Constance I was surprised the show hadn’t been postponed.
She wasn’t concerned. “It’s absolutely shocking what happened to Harold. But he would’ve wanted us to move forward with centennial plans.”
“Which would be the construction of a centennial park.”
“Everyone knows that’s a dead issue.” She had the grace to look embarrassed. “That didn’t come out right, sorry. We’re going to have an outdoor drama, and we can dedicate the opening night performance to Harold.”
Just what he would’ve wanted. “So the show must go on?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“May I see the cast list?”
“Of course. My original copy is on top.”
The neatly handwritten list confirmed my suspicion that Amanda had indeed cast herself as Emmaline. Joanie Raines was Mrs. Ross. I didn’t know a lot of the names, but it looked as if most people who tried out got a part. Whether or not they’d be happy with their roles was another matter.
“Constance, do you know anyone who had a serious grudge against Amanda?”
“Other than Harold? I suppose first on the list would be her husband’s ex-wife, Tammy Henderson. She never forgave Amanda for ‘stealing Roger away,’ as she put it. Let’s see, there’s sales manager at Reynaldo’s. She and Amanda are always arguing about fashion. Then there’s the chef at Mamie’s, her hairdresser, who is a wonderful woman by the way, and does my hair every Friday. I have absolutely no complaint about Delores, then there’s her cleaning woman, her—”
I held up a hand. “Hold on. Does Amanda aggravate everyone she comes in contact with?”
“She’s such a perfectionist, she’s impossible to please.”
Amanda returned, scowling. “The Celosia News can’t stop pestering me! I don’t want to talk to them. Why aren’t the reporters out looking for the real murderer? Can’t they see someone’s trying to frame me?”
“What about your husband’s first wife?” I asked.
“Tammy? I seriously doubt she had anything to do with this.”
“It’s my understanding she’s not too fond of you.”
“Yes, but when I divorced Roger, he went right back to her, so she won. Lucky girl.”
“All right. Can you think of anyone else? A member of the Improvement Society, or maybe a member of the Centennial Committee?”
She turned briefly to give Constance a smile. “I’ve been friends with Constance and the others for years. What motive would they have? And as for the Centennial Committee, that was Harold and four others.”
“I’m curious, Amanda, why is someone as wealthy and as fashion forward as yourself living in a small town like Celosia? Why aren’t you cutting a swath through Parkland, or Greensboro, or even Charlotte?”
She made a dismissive gesture. “Been there, done that. Celosia needs my guidance. Can you imagine what this place would be like without me?”
Someone wanted Celosia to be without Amanda. And without Harold. Was getting rid of both of them part of the murderer’s master plan?
Amanda’s phone rang again, and with an exasperated sigh, she left the room.
“No,” we heard her say, “I am not cancelling the show.”
Constance sat back down at the counter and continued making notes on the cast list. Try as I might, I couldn’t see the underside of her wrist.
“Constance, this is a completely different subject. Were you a member of the Darkrose Coven?”
She lifted one silvery eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“About twenty years ago?”
“There is a Darkrose Coven,” she said, and for a moment I thought she was going to tell all, “but it’s in a book called Pagan Desires. That must have been where you heard of it.”
“No, I’m talking about the original one, the one with Joanie Raines and Lauren Garrett and a few others.”
Nothing cracked her composure. “You must be mistaken.”
“You wouldn’t mind showing me your wrists, would you?”
She stared at me as if I’d made an improper noise in church. Then she turned over both hands. An expensive silver watch was on one wrist, its thick band covering where a tattoo might be. A pearl bracelet dangled on the other. She took off both pieces of jewelry.
No tattoo.
“What’s this all about, Madeline?”
Could Nell have been mistaken? Of course, tattoos could be removed or covered with makeup. “Nothing, thank you.”
Amanda returned, complaining at the top of her voice. “Can you believe Evan James had the nerve to call and ask me if I was cancelling the show?”
I really didn’t believe Evan had the nerve. “Did you get the grant money?”
“It’s due any day now.
”
“Where is the money coming from?”
“The Hunter Hardin Foundation, an exceptionally generous group, and it was no problem to fill in the form.”
“How generous?”
“One hundred thousand dollars. That, combined with our local contributions should be enough to get us started. Is there anything else, Madeline? I’m really very busy, so you need to get out there and clear my name.”
***
To be on the safe side, I looked up the Hunter Hardin Foundation. It was legitimate, and the grant form was not complicated. So Amanda was telling the truth about that, at least.
Of the three young women on Annie’s list, one was out of town, and one had broken her leg rock-climbing and was still in the hospital. Her family didn’t want her disturbed. That left Renee Hedley, who met me at Deely’s and obligingly put down her cell phone to show me her black rose tattoo. Renee had black hair chopped in a short shaggy style, a nose ring like Annie’s, and a wealth of tattoos, including a thorny vine circling her arm blooming with skulls, and a fanged serpent running down her other arm. I’d offered to buy whatever she liked, and she opted for a cheeseburger and fries. She sat sideways in the booth, one red-sneakered foot up on the seat. When Annie brought her order, they gave each other a nod, and Annie moved on.
“Have you read Pagan Desires?” Renee asked me.
“I’m on chapter five.” Lissa had been kidnapped by the demon Arzarath and had fallen under his spell, but the angel Rigel was coming to the rescue. All very dramatic.
“Are you up to the part where Arzarath takes Lissa to his chamber? Hot stuff.”
“Looking forward to it. So you and Annie and the others got a black rose because Lissa has one?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
“You don’t meet and act out scenes?”
She laughed. “You mean like a LARP? Hell, no. That’s for kids.”
“LARP?”
“Live Action Role Play. Some people are into it, but it’s too much trouble. I mean, you gotta find costumes and a place that’ll let you play. I’m just into the books. The movie’s coming out next year, and I can’t wait. Hope they don’t screw it up.”
“Did you ever hear of another Darkrose Coven around Celosia?”
She spoke around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “Nope. There’s one in Parkland. You could probably find a ton more if you looked online.”
Annie approached cautiously, as if Renee were spilling deep dark secrets. “Need a refill?”
“No, thanks.”
“Anything for you, Madeline?”
“Sit down for a second,” I said. Renee moved her foot, and Annie slid in beside her. “Okay, ladies, I need your help. There have been two murders in the neighborhood, and I’m unofficially investigating both of them. It’s unusual that the name Darkrose Coven has come up, whether it’s the old one that was around years ago, or the new one associated with Pagan Desires. Both of you please let me know if you hear anything that might be a clue.”
Renee looked interested, but Annie looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think there’s anything to it.”
“I know somebody in the Parkland group,” Renee said. “Maybe I can go to their next meeting.”
“Let me know when they’re going to meet, and I’ll get in.”
She gave me a critical glance. “You probably could.”
“Annie?”
“I think you should leave it alone, Madeline. It’s nothing. Just fans of the book.”
Renee gave her a friendly shoulder punch. “Ah, come on. It’ll be fun infiltrating the coven.”
“You can go if you like. I’m not interested.”
Renee’s phone chimed with a text message which she read and quickly answered. “Gotta go. Give me your number, Madeline, and I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”
After she’d gone, Annie’s look of disapproval spoke volumes. “What?” I said. “You don’t think I can pass as a teenaged witch?”
“You do whatever you like, Madeline.”
Annie’s mood was puzzling, but Renee was eager to help. Maybe once I knew more about Parkland’s chapter of the Darkrose Coven I’d be able to figure out why Annie was being uncooperative.
I wasn’t sure that Amanda’s chef, hairdresser, or housekeeper would have any useful information, but Tammy Henderson Price might have something to say about Amanda.
A phone call later, I was talking to Tammy Price’s young daughter who said her mom wasn’t home, but she’d give her the message to call me. I thanked her and then checked my watch. Time for open house at Camp Lakenwood.
Chapter Nine
The camp was ten miles away near a little farming community called Westberry, the same Westberry that Nell had said was near Peaceful Meadow. I turned off Chandler Road to Camp Lakenwood Trail. Nathan had repaired the twisting gravel road, as well as the wooden rail fence and faded welcome sign. The archway still said “Camp Lakenwood, Established 1954,” but the letters had been repainted in bright yellow and green. So had the camp bus and the yellow arrows pointing to the main cabin where Nathan met me. Like Jerry, he had on his official outfit, khaki shorts and bright yellow and green camp tee-shirt. His eyes gleamed behind his little round glasses as he spread his arms wide.
“What do you think, Madeline? Quite a difference, isn’t it?”
The last time I had been to Camp Lakenwood, it was in sad shape. Now all the cabins had been cleaned and repaired, new silver rowboats and green and yellow canoes bobbed at the repaired dock, and smooth concrete replaced the old cracked basketball court.
“It looks fantastic, Nathan. The kids will love it.”
“Now what’s all this about Harold Stover being found dead? What’s going on?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
“You’re on the case? Who hired you?”
“Amanda Price.”
“What? Why?”
“Because she’s a suspect.”
When he was railing about Amanda yesterday at our house, Nathan’s face had turned bright red. Now he looked ashen, and his voice quavered. “Why would the police think that?”
I hadn’t seen Nathan this upset since we’d been in a time-crunch to solve his uncle’s riddle and win Camp Lakenwood. “Nathan, what do you know?”
He swallowed hard. “I went over to Harold’s house last night to talk to him about Amanda, but he wasn’t home. At least, he didn’t answer the door.”
Uh, oh. “When was this?”
“I didn’t get finished here at camp until nine. Nine-thirty, maybe? He didn’t answer his phone, either, so I thought he might already be in bed.”
Amanda had come by at ten and found Harold’s body. “Nathan, you might want to talk to Chief Brenner.”
He took a step back. “And have him think I killed Harold? No way!”
“You might have seen or heard something useful. Harold was dead when Amanda found him. You might have just missed the killer.”
“Or just missed being killed by Amanda. I can’t think about this now, Madeline. I’ve got an open house to run.” He hurried off to greet arriving campers.
This was interesting news. Nathan was as mild-mannered as they come, but he’d been furious with Amanda. Could he have picked up a handy branch, hoping to smack her, and hit Harold instead? He was at the house at nine-thirty. Amanda said she came by at ten. Would Nathan go to such lengths as to kill Harold and frame Amanda? I didn’t know the relationship between the two men, but from my short time in Celosia, I’d untangled a Gordian knot’s worth of relationships. I didn’t think Nathan was lying to me, but my past cases had involved a lot of secrets and lies, not all of them intentional. I’d better have a long talk with Nathan.
The camp was filled with children and their parents checking out the cabins and all the activities. I fou
nd Jerry playing basketball with a group of ten-year-olds. Other camp counselors gave guided tours of the crafts building and showed children how to build campfires, climb ropes, and paddle canoes. Austin helped younger boys dig worms for fishing. Denisha assisted little girls through the obstacle course.
I wandered around, greeting people I knew. I admired the tiny fish the boys yanked out of the water. I cheered for the girls as they managed to conquer the tire run and the monkey bars. Then I sat down at one of the picnic tables in a shady spot near the lake. I’d decided Nathan would be too busy today to discuss his problem, when he suddenly came up and sat down across from me.
“Madeline, I need to talk to you.”
“That’s convenient. I need to talk to you, too.”
He took off his glasses to wearily rub his eyes. “I’ve already told Jerry. Chief Brenner called. He wants to see me as soon as open house is over today. A neighbor saw me knocking on Harold’s door last night.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about. You didn’t go in. Or did you?”
“No!”
“Now’s not the time to hide anything.”
He set his glasses firmly back on his nose. “I promise you I did not go in.”
“You didn’t try the back door?”
“No. I knocked on the front door and rang the bell. When Harold didn’t answer, I figured he’d already gone to bed, and I left.” He clasped his hands together. “It gets worse. Remember when I stopped by your house and vented about Amanda? I’d done the same thing here at camp when she came by. The other counselors heard me. They saw how angry I was. Brenner wants to talk to all of them, too.”
“It’s standard investigation procedure.”
“There’s more. Brenner said Harold was killed by a blow to the head with a piece of wood similar to a baseball bat. Look around. I’ve got a camp full of murder weapons.”
He was getting way too upset. “Okay. You leave here with a piece of wood, go into town, and smack Harold over the head. What’s your motive? You’re mad at Amanda. Why not smack her over the head? Why attack poor Harold?”
