by Jane Tesh
I came back to Rahnee. “Do any of those costumes belong to Taft? Did Taft or Lucas have any other props stored here?”
“No.”
“I’d like to look in the storage room.”
She pointed toward the front door. “To your right, past the bar.”
The storage room was bigger than I expected, lined with shelves filled with supplies for the bar, paper towels, toilet tissue, boxes of envelopes, and crates of beer. I had to move several boxes of napkins to get to the back wall. I counted seven cinder blocks up from the floor and gave the seventh block a push. It slid back, revealing an empty hole. When I put the block back in place, I noticed that unlike its neighboring blocks, number seven had a small dark splotch. Mold? A mark Lucas had made to find it? I couldn’t tell, but it was possibly blood.
I put the boxes of napkins back and returned to Rahnee. She’d remembered something. “Taft’s coat is in my office. He left it at the club one night. I kept forgetting to tell him.”
I followed her to her office. She took a long brown coat out of the closet. I thought I might find cards, or rabbits, or long strings of colored scarves in the pockets, but all I found was a wad of tissue, a paper clip, and several blue pills.
“Any idea what these pills are?”
“I’m not sure. I know occasionally Taft had a problem with insomnia. Maybe that’s some sort of sleep medication.”
It wasn’t much, but it could be a clue. I put the pills in my pocket.
Rahnee took the coat from me. “Lucas should have this, or maybe the police need to see it. You have to prove this was an accident, Randall.”
“I’ll do my best.”
As she wrote a check, I couldn’t help but think back to this morning and Camden’s prediction of another client. Well, now I had three clients: Lucas Finch, Sandy Olaf, and Rahnee. A box, a bracelet, and a body. Maybe that old black magic was really working.
Chapter Three
Semi-Charmed Life
While I waited to hear from Rahnee, I checked in with Sandy Olaf. She lived in Deer Point Estates, Parkland’s ritziest neighborhood, and not only did she live in Deer Point Estates, she lived in Barrington Trace, a gated community within the Estates. I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to breathe such rarefied air, but the gateman checked his list and let me in. Sandy’s house was built along the lines of a Ramada Inn, with enough columns for a Greek temple. She was on the front steps, waving and smiling.
You’d never guess Sandy Olaf’s one of the wealthiest women in Parkland. She has blonde hair and blue eyes and the pleasant addled look of a caterer who isn’t sure she has enough hors d’oeuvres. She wears very little makeup and dresses in plain-looking but very expensive blouses and slacks, like the navy blue outfit she had on today.
“Good morning, David. What a chilly day! Come in.”
I followed her down a couple of acres of foyer to a huge living room decorated in vertigo-inducing patterns of stripes and flowers, all pink and blue. There wasn’t a bare spot in the room. Everything had a matching pattern, from the wallpaper to the rugs to the cushions on the sofas. On one of the tables, Sandy had an array of papers and several telephones.
“Sit where you like. I’m in the middle of organizing the Arts Council Auction, so the phones are going to be ringing. I’m sorry, but I have to get it done. The Salvation Army fund-raiser is next week, and this has to be finished.”
I sat down on a striped sofa. “That’s all right.”
“I had the most fun setting up the Cancer Relay. Do you know we raised over fifty thousand dollars? I was so tickled.” One of the phones rang. “What did I tell you? Please excuse me.”
She picked up the phone and chatted excitedly about a painting someone was donating to the auction. I looked around the room, being careful not to turn my head too fast. Huge ugly vases posed on little marble-topped tables. Pictures of foxhunts and flowers in heavy gold frames clashed with the striped and flowered wallpaper. Even the ceiling had flowers and stripes.
Sandy hung up. “Now then, where were we?”
“Your missing piece of jewelry.”
“Oh, yes! My diamond tennis bracelet. David, I’m embarrassed to say I have several, but this one was given to me by my dearest friend, Bertie, who passed away from AIDS last year. You can’t imagine the sentimental value. I mean, I do my best for the AIDS Foundation here in town, all in Bertie’s memory, but that bracelet meant so much to me. Our initials are engraved on the clasp, mine and Bertie’s. I’m devastated.”
“When did you last see it?”
“Well, that’s the trouble. I run around town all day, and I can’t remember.” Another phone rang. “Excuse me again. Hello? Kennedy, sweetheart, how are you?” She listened a moment, and then gave a sigh of exasperation. “But I told Andre you needed those ice sculptures by Saturday. He doesn’t have any of them done? All right, dear, just leave it to me. No, it’s no trouble. Give my love to Boots.” She hung up. “You’d think getting a few ice sculptures for the Debutantes’ Ball would be a snap in this town, but everything is such a production. Let me call Andre and sort this out.”
While she made her call, I got up and wandered the room. If the whole house was this busy, I was going to have to get some Dramamine before I began my search. I came back to the table and looked at her calendar, hoping for a clue. It was as scrambled as the room, dates and appointments marked out, rewritten, and squeezed in, with a bright confetti of Post-It notes on top.
Sandy hung up. “It’s a mess, isn’t it?”
“Can you recall the last time you wore your bracelet?”
She pointed to last week. “I think it was sometime here. I’m pretty sure I had it on when I hosted the PETA Banquet—I almost wore my mink—can you imagine? Yes, I think I had the bracelet on that night.”
“And you remember having it when you came home?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure.”
I looked at the appointments for the rest of that week. Sandy had organized, hosted, or emceed four banquets, a charity ball, a dinner party, and two fund-raisers.
“David, you can eliminate the Garden Club Banquet. I wasn’t able to go, and someone else took my place. And the banquet at the Silver Estate has been moved to next month.”
“So, counting the PETA banquet, that’s two banquets, two fund-raisers, a dinner party, and a charity ball.”
“That’s right.”
I copied down the addresses: The dinner party had been at April Meadows, the ball at the Parkland Country Club, the other banquet at the Parkland Hilton, and the fund-raisers had been at First Methodist Church and the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer. “I’ll check out these places first. I assume you’ve searched everywhere here?”
“Everywhere.”
“Well, if I don’t have any luck at these places, I’ll come search your house. You may have overlooked your bracelet.”
Her gesture took in the scramble on the table. “Around here, that’s possible.” She unearthed a checkbook from the piles of paper. “Let me write you a check.”
“Does anyone else know the bracelet’s missing?”
“The housekeeper helped me look.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.” As she tore off the check and handed it to me, the phone rang again. “Oh, my goodness.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I have enough to get started. Could I talk to your housekeeper?”
“Yes, she should be in the kitchen. That’s down the hall and to your left.”
“All right. I’ll check with you later today.”
“Thanks, David.”
As I went out, I heard her say into the phone, “Ann, dear, I’m so glad you called. I need you to check on the car. Didn’t you say you could donate an Infiniti? Wonderful! Well, could you get two? Oh, that would be fabulous! Can you get a black one and a silver one? That way, they
’d match the decorations.”
Down the hall and to my left took me about thirty minutes. I must have passed twenty-five rooms, parlors, and other hallways. The kitchen stretched the length of the house, a gleaming array of appliances, pots and pans hanging above like copper balloons. A small woman stood at a vast cutting board in the center of the room, chopping carrots and celery.
She glanced up. Her prominent lower teeth made her look like a cheerful little bulldog. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. I’m David Randall. Mrs. Olaf hired me to find her diamond bracelet. May I ask you a few questions?”
“I assure you, we’ve searched every inch of this house,” she said. I almost expected her to say, And I sniffed every corner! “Not an easy task, as you can imagine.”
“Do you remember the last time you saw her wearing the bracelet?”
She continued to chop vegetables. “She had it on the night she went to the animal rights banquet, and she had it on when she came home, because she came down here and wanted a hamburger. She said she felt bad, but after all the salad at the banquet, what she really wanted was a juicy steak. We made a joke about the rights of cows.” She looked at me with an anxious expression. I resisted the urge to pat her head. “I’m paid extremely well, Mister Randall. I’d never take any of her things.”
“I’m not accusing anyone. I’m retracing Mrs. Olaf’s steps.” I checked my notes. “So, she had it on the night of the PETA banquet, and you noticed she still had it on when she came home and wanted a steak.”
“Yes, I am almost certain.”
“Does she always come down here for a snack after these social functions?”
“Not always.”
“How about Monday night?”
For a moment, the housekeeper’s little tongue stuck out as she tried to remember, and I had to turn a sudden laugh into a cough. “I can’t recall.”
I looked at my list. “She had a dinner party, a charity ball, and a banquet at the Hilton. Okay, how about after the Lutheran Church fund raiser?”
“That was the one with all the chickens.” Chickens! Woof! “There were quite a few left over, so I helped her pack them.”
I really needed to rein myself in. “Did you notice the bracelet then?”
“I’m sorry to say I don’t remember.”
“And the First Methodist Church?”
“That was the one with the yard sale and all the baby clothes. I remember because Mrs. Olaf brought home a big box for my sister’s little girl.”
“Any chance the bracelet fell off into the box?”
“No, no. My sister and I emptied the box at her home. I would have seen the bracelet.”
It was hard not to envision the housekeeper and her sister frolicking like puppies in the clothes. “This may seem like an odd question, but does Mrs. Olaf have any enemies? I know she does lots of charitable work in town. Is there anyone jealous of her success? Anyone who feels replaced or slighted? Sometimes these country club women try to top each other doing things for the less fortunate.”
She paused in her chopping. “I have never heard anyone say anything bad about her.”
“Okay, thanks. I might check with you again later.”
Her teeth jutted out even further. “You check any time you like. If someone stole that bracelet, they need to be caught.”
I couldn’t imagine a thief getting past this tough little woman.
Outside, I patted the Fury’s hood. “Now wouldn’t it be nice to find Lucas Finch’s missing box with Sandy’s bracelet inside?”
Chapter Four
We’ve Got Magic To Do
My next stop was the Parkland Hilton. The manager gushed over Sandy’s generosity and organizational skills and sent a young man in an official-looking blue jacket to show me to the banquet hall and kitchen.
The young man’s gold nameplate read “Guest Coordinator.” He was thin with a crest of hair that I’m sure took him all morning to perfect. If Sandy’s housekeeper reminded me of a bulldog, this anxious fellow reminded me of a nervous yet very particular bird. “We’ve looked everywhere, Mister Randall. I’m afraid something as nice as a diamond tennis bracelet might have been stolen. As I recall, there were over three hundred people at that banquet.”
“But they paid to attend, right? How much?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“Doesn’t sound like a thieving kind of crowd.”
He cocked his head exactly like a cockatiel. “You’d be surprised. We’ve had very wealthy guests steal small tables and light fixtures, and one man actually attempted to haul out an ice machine.”
In the kitchen, we looked into cabinets, air vents, and drains. The tablecloths had fringe, so even though they had been washed since the banquet, we checked them all to see if the bracelet had gotten snagged. Then we went down to the laundry and looked in the washers and dryers. Back in the banquet hall, the young man found a corner of carpet coming loose, so we checked under that.
“I don’t know where else to look,” he said. “I promise a thorough search was made the first time.”
I shook his hand. “Thanks for your help. I’ve got a few more places to look.”
***
My next stop was the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer. By now, I was expecting a bear-like man or a cat woman, but I was in for something new. The assistant pastor was an ordinary-looking man, but he had a strange whistling lisp that made me wonder how he got through the church services. His congregation would get a sermon and an anthem all at once. He was equally complimentary about Sandy.
“Mrs. Olaf is a wonderful person. She works tirelessly with all our worthy causes.”
“Works tirelessly” and “causes” trilled like little birds.
“Where did you have your chicken dinner?”
“Here in the fellowship hall. We served over seven hundred people. It was a tremendous success. And we had enough chickens left over to take to the homeless shelter. I’d say almost a thousand people were fed, plus we had a lot of leftovers we’ve frozen for next month’s dinner.”
The fellowship hall was a wide yellow room about the size of a basketball court with the standard folding tables and chairs. The church kitchen was wall-to-wall stainless steel, with huge refrigerator freezers and sinks as large as bathtubs.
“You must do a lot of dinners.”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “We believe in feeding the flock. These dinners are surprisingly special experiences.”
Flocks of happy birds, I imagined as “surprisingly special experiences” washed over me. The kitchen was spotless. Everything in the cabinets was perfectly arranged.
“Did Mrs. Olaf go anywhere else in the church?”
“No, she stayed right here all evening, serving food.” He paused, “Although, at one point, I think she went out for more bread.”
“Which way would she have gone?”
He led me out the side door of the kitchen and down a narrow path to the parking lot. Along the way, I searched the grass and behind the line of shiny plastic trash cans. Nothing. The parking lot was a smooth expanse of asphalt. If her bracelet had fallen off here, it would have been instantly noticed.
I thanked the pastor. “I appreciate your time.”
“I assure you we shall search ceaselessly,” he said, with a flourish of singing “s” sounds.
Two down, three to go. I was only a couple of streets over from Food Row, so I picked up a couple of cheeseburgers at the Quik-Fry. Then I called Rahnee and asked if she had her list ready.
“Not yet.” I could tell by her voice she hadn’t stopped crying. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to get myself together.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can stop by tomorrow.”
“No, I want you to have all the information you need. It shouldn’t be too much longer. Let me call you.”
“That’s fine. I understand.” I wanted to tell her I understood completely the sudden loss, the shock and bewilderment. You think someone is going to be with you forever, and suddenly they’re gone. Just gone. And from the way she was reacting, I wondered if there had been something else besides friendship between Rahnee and Taft. I made sure she had my number and closed my phone. Grace Street was around the corner. I told myself it was foolish, but suddenly I wanted to go home and make sure everyone was okay.
***
All of Camden’s tenants were accounted for. Rufus Jackson had left for his construction job in his bigfoot truck, old Fred had gone back up to his room, and Angie Dawson was taking up most of the green corduroy sofa in our main living area we call the island. She had a large bowl of Sugar Puffs in her lap and a box of doughnuts on the end table beside her. Angie’s one of the biggest women I’ve ever seen, easily three hundred and fifty pounds, all solid rolls. She wears her brown hair short and sticking out from her tiny ears, so her head looks enormous, and I rarely see her little eyes, lost in the mountains of her cheeks. Still in her yellow nightgown, she looked like a giant pudding that had landed on the sofa.
She clicked the remote until she found a talk show. The topic was “Faithless Husbands and the Women Who Love Them.”
“Hell.” She changed the channel. A group of hyperactive kids jumped around singing, “We’ve Got Magic To Do Just For You.” “Don’t need to see that, either.” She changed the channel again.
Knowing I could outrun her if I had to, I ventured a personal question. “You and Rufus still on the outs?”
“Durn fool can’t make up his mind about getting married.” She crunched a mouthful of cereal. “I don’t know what he’s waiting on. He’s never going to find another woman like me, and he knows it.”
There was no safe reply to this. “Has Camden said anything to you about a ring?”
