by Duffy Brown
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I have no idea, but he’s scary good at it. Did you know that Peepster had something on Penelope and was blackmailing her? I overheard Penelope talking to somebody in the hall and—”
“You were eavesdropping.”
“Tomayto, tomahto. And Penelope’s been through Zo’s room twice looking for the missing phone, and I’m thinking she could have left your purple sequined hat behind so you’d get the blame for breaking in.”
“I did break in and if there’s dirt to dig up, Peep had the shovel. I wonder if Penelope was at the hotel the night Peep bought the farm? I could have left my bag anywhere in the hotel; I was so upset I can’t remember what I did with it. You said Penelope has an accomplice, so one of them could have given Peep the old heave-ho over the railing and the other whacked him with the olive oil from below. Teamwork. I wonder what Peep had on them?”
“That is the sixty-four-dollar question. Penelope’s working late and I could go hear Idle Summers singing at the Cupola Bar and poke around and see what slithers out.” And I could talk to Idle and maybe figure out how she fit into all this mess. Not that I’d tell Fiona that. She thought Idle Summers was a true friend and trusted her to the end of time.
Fiona pried an Oreo apart and licked the filling. “The Cupola? That means heels and a skirt and a lot of makeup for the scratches.”
I retrieved my Earl Grey. “I’ll manage, but whatever you do, don’t you show up at the Grand. The evidence is building and you need to stay out of sight. It’s not just Sutter gunning for you, those mystery groups are everywhere and it’ll be a chorus of There she is. Sutter will lock you up for sure.” I dunked the tea bag a few times in the hot water to release the flavor. “I’ll take this to Sparkle; I think she needs it more than I do.”
Fiona stood and hugged me. “You haven’t looked in the mirror, have you?”
I started for the reception area and stopped dead as Madonna followed by the Body Baggers barged through the front door. “Okay,” Madonna bellowed, her face red and jaw set. She had on black slacks and black top to match her black attitude. She had her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore enough mascara to make Maybelline proud. “Where is that piece of scum? I want to see him right now, and I want to get him ready to fly today. This whole thing has taken long enough; we’re out of here.”
Sparkle poked her head out of examining room 1. “What piece of scum are you looking for?”
“Peephole Perry.”
Sparkle looked beyond Madonna to the Baggers. “And you are . . . ?”
“Trying to solve the mystery of who killed the Peepster, of course.” An older woman in denim capris held up her orange notebook.
Sparkle blinked a few times. “And just when I think things can’t get any crazier around here . . .” She peeled off her exam gloves and came over to Madonna, who was standing in the middle of the waiting room. Sparkle tugged Madonna down into a chair and sat beside her. “Honey, Peeps is dead. Getting him through the security line is gonna be a challenge.”
Madonna parked her hands on her hips and scowled. “Not if he’s in a coffin. I need to get him back home and drop his lying, thieving carcass in the ground before the lawyers will execute the will. So pack him up and toss in some ice; we’re hitting the bricks, baby.”
“It’s not that easy,” Sparkle said in an adult-to-cranky-kid voice. “We have a situation; Mr. Peephole met with an untimely demise.”
“And it’s the only good thing the jackass ever did in his entire life.”
“The medical examiner needs to release the body, and I’m not the medical examiner.”
Madonna gazed around the room. “Well, where the heck is he?”
“That’s a very good question.”
Madonna jumped up. “What kind of town is this?”
“How long you got? It could take a while. Look, Mackinac is a nice island; find something to do for a few days like horseback ride, hike, take a cooking class or maybe something lilac, lilacs are really in right now. This will all get straightened out soon and you can be on your way.”
Madonna harrumphed and stomped to the door. “I got a singing career to launch here. I got plans, big ones. I need clothes, new ones, fancy ones, and a lot of my money is tied up in Peep’s business.” She gave Sparkle a curious look. “Where are Peep’s things?”
“It’s a murder investigation,” a Body Bagger volunteered. “Nothing on the victim can be released.”
Madonna seethed. “Peep always carried a lot of cash; I want to make sure you all didn’t take it. It wasn’t murder by money. I want the money now.” She tossed her head and folded her arms. “Or I can just sit here all day and keep you company and chat about Peep. Trust me, I can chat about that man all day long.”
Sparkle jumped up, ran to her desk and pulled out three big see-through sealed baggies—forensics Mackinac style—and dropped them on the desktop. “You cannot touch anything, but here it is.” She read from the list. “Leather belt with rhinestone buckle, stainless flask half full of vodka, key ring with six keys, shoes with three-inch lifts.”
“I don’t care about those things.”
“And a wallet with various ID and nine hundred fifty-three dollars in cash.”
Madonna’s eyes glistened as she studied the bags, turning them over. “I want the money now before that grubbing Zo gets her hands on it.”
“Thank God you’re nothing like that.” Sparkle pulled on gloves, opened one of the bags, and slid the wad of cash from Peep’s wallet. Madonna took it, then stomped to the door and slammed it shut behind her.
The Body Baggers applauded and the denim lady added, “Isn’t she fantastic? I think she’s going to win best actress for her performance. This mystery week at the Grand is the best time I’ve had in years. I’ve never seen acting like this, and I’ve been to Broadway plays.”
The Baggers scurried out of the clinic and I handed Sparkle the Smarty-assy mug. Fiona dropped a handful of Oreos in her palm. “That must be one hell of a will,” Sparkle said around a mouthful of chocolate crumbs.
“She probably inherits the Inside Scoop,” Fiona said, gazing at the closed door. “Not that she’d have a clue what to do with the thing. Madonna knew how to spend the money, not how to make it. She had some assets tied up in her name in case Peep got sued, which happened all the time, but that’s about it. She’s probably going to sell the rag, and she wants her money, the sooner the better.”
Sparkle popped the last Oreo in her mouth and headed toward the room she’d come out of earlier. She said to me, “I’ll just be a minute with Mrs. Witherspoon, and then I’ll clean off your knees and elbows. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“How about yesterday?”
Sparkle grinned. “That’s what they all say.” A half hour later I left the medical center and shoved Nancy Drew—I was beyond pushing—toward Rudy’s Rides. My knees hurt, my elbows hurt and now my butt hurt. It hurt a lot thanks to not getting tetanus, whatever that was. I passed the perfectly restored Biddle House, the oldest building on the island, where Melissa Graves dressed in full colonial garb and told fudgies more about fur trading than they ever wanted to know.
My butt buzzed and for a second I thought it was a side effect of the tetanus thing till I heard a bing. I eased Sheldon from my back pocket and checked the screen. It was a text from Abigail. How r wedding plans C U soon.
I didn’t really work for Abigail now, just a few freelance gigs in the winter when her ad agency got swamped and I wasn’t. No one did ads better than Abigail; no one ran a better agency and got business the way she did, and how she and Rudy could be father and daughter boggled the mind. Getting a text from her still made my insides liquefy and with being the maid of honor, no way was I telling her the wedding was in serious jeopardy.
Can’t wait to C U, I lied
back.
When I got to the bike shop, a working dray with two behemoth brown horses pulling the wagon sat parked at the curb. Big guys muscled boxes marked Furniture by Design off the wagon, as Mother pointed the way up the side walkway to her office. She turned to me, beaming. “My own office.” I’d never seen Mother happier. “Law Office 101 is now official. Guess you’re never too old to have your dreams come true. Angelo’s taking me to dinner at the Grand tonight to celebrate, and you should join us, Evie. I wouldn’t be here without you.”
I kissed Mother on the cheek and gave her a hug. “And I wouldn’t be here without you. Have fun tonight.”
I took the ramp into the bike shop, where Cal was rolling back and forth across the floor . . . pacing wheelchair style. “Good, you’re back,” he said as I parked Nancy next to the workbench. “The ferries are running now and we had a big crowd in here and two little girls would like you to paint a couple of”—he pulled a paper from his jeans pocket—“My Little Pony bikes, one pink, one purple, and if you could find a way to add a swishy tail off the back they’d love you forever. Rudy had to leave to make more fudge and it’s almost ten, I got to get out of here.”
“You turn into a pumpkin at ten?”
“I have to get up to the fort and fire the cannon, it’s one of my duties.”
“Right, what would we all do around here without a good cannon blast to scare the crap out of us at ten o’clock every day.”
Cal grinned, his sandy hair falling over his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re sarcastic, but at the moment you kinda look like roadkill.”
“Ah, Cal, you’re one sweet-talking son of a gun.”
“And don’t I know it.” He swaggered and held up his arm to show off his very fine muscles. “Me and the guns here got serious juice. We’ll make it up to the fort in time to scare the crap out of you at ten, you can count on it. See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
Cal zoomed off and I plopped down on the stool and sprang right back up like a jack-in-the-box. It hurt to stand, it hurt to sit. The only good thing was that the worst part of the day had to be behind me, literally, right?
“Stick a fork in me, I’m done,” Irma blubbered as she barged into the shop. “Now the Happily Ever After quartet can’t make my wedding. They’re in Canada and can’t get out. Got arrested for taking smoked salmon across the border.”
“Seems a little extreme for a few fish.”
“Try a semi full, and the Happily Ever Afters sure aren’t happy and neither am I. It’s a sign, the final one in the long list of no dress, no flowers, no minister, no venue, no food.”
“The caterer?”
“Max eloped with Eugene that bartender over at the Pink Pony. We all saw it coming and that’s good, but it’s another sign that I’m not supposed to get married. The wedding’s off.”
13
“Wait a minute.” I put my hands on Irma’s shoulders. “There’s no such thing as a sign; Rudy told me that a long time ago.”
“That’s ’cause he’s a sweetie and didn’t want to upset you. You got the black cloud for sure. Just look at yourself, you’re a mess. And now I got the sign too, only mine is a smoked salmon in Canada. You can’t buck a sign like that.”
Two customers came in, took one look at me and stopped dead. “I got run over in the fog,” I explained, needing to say something. I pointed to Nancy Drew. “It was a wreck, all because of the low visibility this morning, but it’s nice out there now; you can see for miles. Riding a bike is really safe and a lot of fun.”
“Doesn’t look safe.” The customer in a straw hat started for the door.
“What about these terrific Downton Abbey bikes? I have two left. See, there’s the castle there on the bumper.”
After more fast-talking I rented the Downtons, demonstrated how to strap on helmets and even threw in kneepads and elbow pads and directions to the medical clinic just in case. I turned back to Irma sitting in Rudy’s white wicker rocker with Bambino and Cleveland snuggled in her lap purring their heads off.
“See,” she sniffed, “this proves it.” She petted one, then the other. “I’m destined to be a crazy cat lady and these two know it. It’s over for me. My window of marital opportunity has closed.”
“Irma, you were making fudge, you smell like butter and cream. These cats would snuggle with Godzilla if he smelled like that. Go talk to Rudy and I’ll think of something to make this wedding happen.”
Irma looked up at me with watery eyes. “Here on the island tomorrow? Tomorrow’s my wedding day; we’ve been planning for months.”
“Of course, here on Mackinac. Tomorrow.” I had no idea how to pull it off in twenty-four hours, but Irma looked so sad I had to say something positive. She and Rudy were the perfect couple and they deserved to be married their way. But by six thirty I had no idea how to pull it off. Irma could get married in any nice dress, but what about food, venue, minister and music? I had no idea how to handle any of those problems.
I locked up, grabbed the box of Cocoa Puffs from the kitchen for dinner and headed for my bedroom upstairs. I wanted to stay open till seven with business being so good, but Idle’s show started at nine and my plan was to catch her before and talk so I could follow Penelope after.
I didn’t want to talk and I didn’t want to follow. I wanted to take a bath, eat peanut butter right out of the jar and watch reruns of Gilmore Girls and then go to bed. I wanted this day to be over.
Instead I pulled out my blue silk dress with the flippy skirt that I hadn’t worn since my Chicago days, dug my strappy heels out of the back of the closet and trashed my old mascara that had congealed into a clump of goo. I had to go glitzy to blend in with the evening crowd at the Grand. And after one shower and a half bottle of Cover Girl to cover scratches and bruises on my face and arms, followed by wiggling into panty hose to hide the scrapes on my legs, I caught a taxi. I never took taxis; they were expensive and someone else did the driving, not that I was a control freak or anything. Tonight I was just too tired to freak.
* * *
“Hey, lady,” a voice said, as someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Wake up.” I cranked open my eyes, gazing into dark brown ones. “You said you were going to the Grand. Well, rise and shine, this is your stop. You were really zonked.”
“Been a tough day.”
“That explains the snoring.” He offered his hand and I climbed from the wagon into the milling crowd on the sidewalk. The yellow crime scene tape still cordoned off the path at the far end of the hotel, and a cool lake breeze ruffled through the trees. I pulled the lace pashmina over my shoulders—thank you, Mother—and took the steps to the porch. Piano music drifted from the big open doors, servers scurried about taking drink orders and I caught sight of Penelope working the front desk. If she saw me after our knee-to-knee confrontation this morning, she’d be suspicious as to why I was here again. I didn’t need suspicious. I needed Penelope feeling perfectly safe so I could follow her and find out what the heck was going on.
To stay out of Penelope’s sight I ducked behind a feathery palm, then shuffled over to a portly porter. I edged my way past the Terrace Room with a wedding reception in full swing and made my way to the elevators and rode up. The Cupola Bar was to the right, a long hall to the left. A murmur of voices and clinking glasses came from the bar side, but since the show hadn’t started yet I figured Idle would be in her dressing room getting ready. I took the hall to the left. The first door was storage for the bar; the second door had a gold star.
“Wow, I love that dress,” I gushed as Idle opened her door, her perfectly penciled brows raised in surprise at seeing me. “You look great in coral, and before you slam the door in my face I’m here to talk about Fiona. What’s going on with you two? Whatever you’re hiding that Peep knew about, it’s making Fiona look guilty. You need to come clean to Sutter for Fiona’s sake; it’s
the right thing to do.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Fiona said, coming to the door and standing beside Idle. “And we won’t have to wait for Nate to hunt me now because everyone’s going to see me if you keep that door open much longer.”
Fiona nodded down the hall to Gabi and one of the Corpse Crusaders getting off the elevator, and she grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. My foot caught on the carpet and I stumbled against a side table, knocking a box to the floor. A Hello Kitty sweatshirt, PJs and a fuzzy pink HK purse tumbled out. Idle dropped down and scooped the goodies back in the box and closed the lid, shoving it all under the table.
“It’s for my niece,” Idle blurted at the same time Fiona said, “It’s for her cousin.”
“It’s my second cousin who I think of as a dear niece.” Idle faked a smile.
“In L.A.?” I prodded trying to get to the truth. Idle might be a terrific singer but she sucked at lying.
“Yes, right, L.A.” Idle nodded, looking like one of those bobble-head dolls, but the strangest part was that the address on the lid read Lisa Willis in Wisconsin. “Look, I really have to get ready,” Idle went on. “Fiona was helping me button and zip; you know how hard it can be to button and zip. You should leave.”
“This room has a fantastic view,” I said, gazing out the back as the last rays of sun caught the treetops of woods below us. “This is really high up. Is that scaffolding right outside your window? I thought construction was a no-no this time of year.”
“The hotel is adding rooms and the bad winter kept them from getting it all done. It’s the back so no one can see the scaffold, and you should leave now.” Fiona backed me toward the door, gave me a little shove out into the hall and closed the door.
Okay, what was that cousin/niece thing all about and that address in L.A. when it was Wisconsin? Why lie about that and who the person was? I could have called them on it, but then they’d know I was on to them. Idle and Fiona were up to something together, but was it a big enough reason to get rid of Peep permanently?
