by Lea Wait
“I thought I heard voices! Gussie, I’m glad to see you. I was going to call you later today.”
“Then I’m glad I stopped in. This is my friend, Maggie Summer. She’ll be my maid of honor. Maggie, Reverend Palmer.”
They nodded at each other.
“I wanted to make sure everything was set. No last minute problems or such. But since you wanted to get in touch with me, I’m assuming something has come up.”
“Well, actually, yes,” said the Reverend. “Shall we sit a moment?”
“Of course.” They moved back and Maggie and the Reverend sat in the front pew.
“I’m sorry to have to bother you with this, Gussie, but I thought you’d decided on a simple ceremony, with no decorations in the church except flowers on the altar.”
“That’s right,” said Gussie. “The church is perfect, just the way it is.”
“And you haven’t changed your mind? You can, you know. But I need to know ahead of time, so we can schedule time to decorate, and there are certain fire regulations that need to be followed.”
“Fire regulations?” said Gussie.
“And insurance stipulations.”
Gussie sighed. “Let me make a wild guess. Has Jim’s mother, Lily Dryden, contacted you?”
“She called yesterday,” admitted Reverend Palmer.
“What does she want to do?”
The Reverend looked around, as though he was afraid he’d be overheard. “I’m in a bit of a pickle here, you understand. She implied you knew what she was doing, but I had a feeling.… I’ve known you and Jim a long time, Gussie, and it didn’t sound like anything you would have wanted.”
“Just tell me. What is she planning?”
The Reverend looked like a little boy telling tales out of school. “Big, double, pink-and-white bows tied on the aisle ends of each of the pews. With ribbons that touch the floor. And in the middle of each of the ‘bouquet of bows,’ she called them, she wants tall candles to be lit right before the ceremony starts.”
Gussie’s eyes took on a hard, glazed look Maggie’d never seen before.
“And she wants a high trellised arch erected in front of the altar. You and Jim and I would be under it during the ceremony.”
Gussie put her hand out, as though to stop the Reverend’s words. “And—don’t tell me. I’m seeing it all now. This arch would also be covered with giant bows.”
The Reverend nodded, slowly. “Flowers, too. And ivy, I think she said. I wasn’t listening too closely at that point. I was still trying to figure out how she was going to arrange all this in a little over a week.”
“Did she happen to mention who was going to do all this?”
“Abigail from Floral Fantasies was conferenced in. I suspect she was taking notes like mad.”
Gussie nodded. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to Lily. And Abigail. Today.”
“You understand. The bows are…”
“Horrible!”
“They may be. But horrible can be done. Has been done. Weddings are…weddings. Some are pretty over-the-top, and bows on the pews are not a catastrophic idea so far as I’m concerned, as long as you take them down before services Sunday. But you can’t have candles lit that close to ribbons without a special rider to the church’s insurance contract, and it’s too late to get one now.”
“Did you tell Lily that?”
“I did. But she kept saying I was a darling man and that what the insurance people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.” Reverend Palmer shook his head. “I tried to get through to her. I did. But I don’t think she heard me.”
Gussie patted the Reverend’s arm. “Not to worry. I get it. No candles. No matter what. As it happens, Maggie and I are having lunch with Jim. I think we just put church decorations on our agenda.”
“I’m sorry to complicate your life, Gussie. I know you’re in the middle of a move.”
“Don’t worry. I’d rather hear now than an hour before the ceremony.” Gussie turned. “Maggie, let’s get going. We’re going to have an interesting lunch.”
Chapter 10
Crab. Hand-colored lithograph (1843) from Zoology of New York State, part of five volumes commissioned by the New York State Legislature to provide a geological and natural history survey of the state; published between 1842 and 1844. American zoologist Dr. James Ellsworth DeKay (1792-1851) was in charge of the project. Born in Portugal, he came to the United States when he was two, attended Yale, and graduated from the medical school at the University of Edinburgh in 1819. More interested in natural history than in patients, he seldom used his medical skills, but made many contributions to the study of zoology. John William Halls provided the illustrations for his books. This crab is beautifully and accurately detailed and colored, and frames well. 7.25 x 10.5 inches. Price: $100.
Gussie had reserved a round table in a corner of the Winslow Inn’s restaurant. She maneuvered her scooter so it wouldn’t block an aisle and Jim joined them almost as soon as they’d sat down.
“We stopped at the church on our way here. I wanted to show Maggie where the ceremony would be,” said Gussie. “We ran into Reverend Palmer.” She paused. “Guess who called him yesterday.”
“She didn’t…” said Jim.
“And what would you ladies like to drink today?” asked the waitress.
“Diet Pepsi,” said Maggie. “With lemon, please.”
“A cup of green tea for me, also with lemon,” said Gussie.
“I think I’d better have a Johnnie Walker Red. Straight up,” said Jim.
“She did,” Gussie confirmed. She pressed her lips together. Hard.
Jim sat up straighter, as though preparing himself. “What this time?”
“She’d conferenced in Abigail, the florist. She’s planning to decorate the pews with large pink-and-white bows. And candles. And add an arch at the front of the church covered with more bows. And flowers.”
The waitress brought their drinks. “Would you like to order now?”
“Not yet,” said Gussie.
Jim took a deep swallow of scotch.
“Pink-and-white bows, Jim. An arch in front of the altar.”
“She did mention something about a surprise.”
“You knew about this?” Gussie looked across the table as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “You knew Lily was planning to decorate the church as though it were a birthday cake?”
“She said she was going to add a little to the flowers you’d ordered. I didn’t know about everything.”
“Well, I can’t have it. I cannot have her going behind my back anymore, changing plans we’ve already made. No more ‘surprises.’”
“All she said was, she’d looked at the church on the Internet and it was a little plain.”
“Plain! It will be full. Of people. Of joy! Not of pink bows! Or of candles the church’s insurance won’t allow! If it hadn’t been for the insurance issue Reverend Palmer might not even have told me.”
“Can’t we keep a little something she wanted?” Jim suggested. “What about the bows?” He looked across the table at his bride-to-be. “Maybe white bows? But it’s your call. I’ll talk to her.”
Gussie sighed. “Oh, all right. White bows. Medium-sized white bows. That don’t drape on the ground so anyone would trip on them or they’d get caught in my wheels. And only on the pews. No arch.”
“Maybe you could add a white bow to your bouquet, so everything would match?” Maggie dared suggest.
Gussie glared at her. “I’ll think about it.”
“Would you all like to order now?” suggested the waitress with a smile. “Crab cakes are our special today, but we also have fried clams, or a New York sirloin.”
“I’d like the crab cakes,” said Maggie.
“I’ll have the steak,” said Gussie. “Rare. I want to see the blood.”
Chapter 11
Red Astrachan. Hand-colored lithograph of bright red apple of Russian origin from The Agriculture of N
ew York, by Dr. Ebenezer Emmons, 1851. Two views; one sliced in half to show seeds and stem. Both apples upside down. At its publication this book included all varieties of apples produced in New York; today most are considered heirlooms. The sweet Red Astrachan, however, is still grown in New York. Lithograph on heavy paper, toned at edges. Unmatted. 9 x 11.5 inches. Price: $40.
The rest of lunch went more quietly. Nothing more was said about church decorations, and no one mentioned murders, bodies, or the morning’s visit to Cordelia on Apple Orchard Lane. Jim told some funny stories about growing up in Georgia which Maggie suspected Gussie had heard dozens of times before, and Gussie asked her if she’d like to have her hair done before the wedding; she and Ellen and Lily all had appointments at Lucky Ladies on Saturday morning, and she’d had them hold an appointment for Maggie, too.
“I don’t think so,” Maggie said. “My hair’s so long I’ll just wash it, let it drip dry and pin it up.”
When Gussie looked disappointed she added, “But if they do manicures, I could use one of those.”
“I’ll see if I can get you an appointment,” Gussie agreed. “It would be fun to have all of us there primping together.”
Maggie had the distinct feeling Gussie was thinking “safety in numbers.”
By the end of the meal both the bride and groom were a lot more relaxed. “Sorry you had to see that little scene, Maggie,” Gussie admitted. “This getting married has been a true test of love. It’s been something new almost every day since Lily found out about the wedding.”
“She wants to help. She really does,” agreed Jim. “But her system is to push everything one hundred miles further than anyone wants. I’ll call her this afternoon and make nice, and tell her she’s over the top about the church, but offer her the compromise about the bows. I’m sure she’ll retreat. Bows on the pews were probably what she wanted in the first place.”
“Dealing with her sounds exhausting!” said Maggie. “How did you manage to grow up sane?”
“I moved to the Cape as soon as I was old enough to get on a bus,” Jim grinned. “Or something like that.”
“I’m trying hard,” Gussie added. “But I may really explode before the wedding if she comes up with any more of her brilliant ideas. You have no idea how glad I am you convinced her to stay in Atlanta until just before the wedding, Jim. If she were here I think I’d be ready to jump off a cliff by now.”
“I’ll try to keep her busy and under control when she arrives. Not to worry.”
“Jim, what happened with Diana this morning?” Maggie asked. “Is she going to be all right? Do you think she needs a lawyer?”
“I’m not sure. But she did need someone to talk with. I’m now on record as representing her, and I told her not to answer any questions beyond what the police know already. I don’t think that’s a problem; she clammed up right after she got in my car. Her father’s murder scared her. She wouldn’t talk about their life in Colorado.”
“Are you going to follow up with her?” asked Gussie.
“Not unless she asks me to do something specific, or I hear from Ike that she’s part of his investigation. At the moment I think he’s focusing on what Dan Jeffrey was doing here in Winslow, not on what he did when he was Roger Hopkins in Colorado. I’m not sure Ike even knows about that part of the man’s life yet. We have so much to do with the house and the wedding, Gussie, I don’t have time to take on a young woman who needs a surrogate family right now.”
Maggie was silent for a moment. “I’m worried about her. Maybe it’s because I spend so much time with students her age. If you can spare me—” she looked over at Gussie, who clearly wasn’t thrilled with what she was saying—“I know, I just got here, but I’d like to check up on her, and maybe get her out of that house a few times while the police are investigating. She said she’d like to help with the wedding. Maybe she could help us with the move, too. Could we offer to pay her a little?”
“Maggie, why is it you’re always getting involved with young people in trouble of some sort?” Gussie sighed. “But we could use some young muscles at the house. And I have a feeling Cordelia wouldn’t mind if we borrowed Diana. Jim, would that be a problem for any legal reason?”
He shrugged. “None I can think of. If she can help you out, and it keeps her busy, sure, why not? We can pay her a few dollars. That’ll make it look as though we aren’t looking for free labor.”
“We’re going to pack at your place this afternoon, right?” said Maggie.
Gussie nodded.
“I’ll take my car and go back to Cordelia’s and see if Diana’s interested. If she is, I’ll bring her back with me. I won’t be gone long.”
Within twenty minutes she’d pulled her van up to the house at Apple Orchard Lane. Diana’s Volkswagen was still outside.
After several minutes’ wait, Cordelia answered the door. “Good afternoon, Cordelia. Could I speak with Diana for a few moments?”
Cordelia looked surprised, but went to a small table near the staircase where there were several books, a lamp, and a cowbell, and rang the bell. A minute later Diana came down the stairs.
“Oh, it’s you, Maggie. I wondered what Cordelia wanted.”
“Sorry to disturb you. But you mentioned helping with Gussie’s wedding. This isn’t directly wedding-related, but Gussie and Jim are trying to consolidate their households and move into their new home and get Gussie’s shop set up before their wedding. I know you have a lot on your mind, but if you’d like to earn a few extra dollars, we could use some help packing this afternoon.”
Diana looked from Cordelia to Maggie. “Was this Cordelia’s idea?”
“No; but if you’d like to come, I’ll ask her if it’s all right.”
“I make my own decisions. I’ll get a jacket.” Diana ran back up the stairs.
Maggie signed, “Diana’s going to help Gussie and me pack some of Gussie’s things; she’s hoping to finish moving to the new house before her wedding.”
Cordelia nodded. “Good. The girl’s restless. She has nothing to do. Thank Gussie for me.”
Maggie nodded. They’d wanted to help Diana. If Cordelia thought they were helping her, so much the better.
“Let’s go,” said Diana, heading out the door. Maggie waved at Cordelia, and followed her.
“I’ll take my car and follow you,” said Diana. “That way I can leave when we’re finished.”
“Fine.” Maggie headed back to Gussie’s, the VW following close behind.
Was this a good decision? There was plenty to pack; that wasn’t the issue. But with Diana there it meant she and Gussie wouldn’t have as much time alone together as they’d hoped.
She hoped Ike Irons was making headway in figuring out who’d killed Diana’s father. She’d had a few experiences with murder investigations, and usually the “why” came first. That led to the “who.”
The chief certainly should be looking at why Dan Jeffrey disappeared such a short time after his daughter had found him. Could that just be a coincidence? Maggie shook her head. She’d lived long enough not to believe in coincidences.
If Ike Irons wasn’t interested in Dan Jeffrey’s history pre-Winslow, then he wouldn’t worry about Dan’s daughter. The more Maggie thought about it, the more she worried about Diana.
What happened in Colorado that made Diana’s father leave his daughter? A daughter who’d already lost her mother? Starting a new life somewhere else, with a new name, was something people did only when they were desperate, and either they didn’t care about those they left behind, or they needed to protect them.
Diana certainly acted as though she felt her father cared about her.
That only left one other possibility.
By the time Maggie pulled her van into a space in back of Gussie’s shop she was determined to find out whatever she could. And make sure no other bodies were found on the beach, or anywhere else, in Winslow.
Chapter 12
EXTRA! PRES. ROOSEVELT DIES! One
page, one side, broadside, issued by the SCIO Tribune, Linn County, Oregon, Thursday, April 12, 1945, to announce President Franklin Roosevelt’s death. Paper tanned, but in perfect condition. “The United States and the World was shocked suddenly this afternoon when the news was flashed over the wires—“President Roosevelt dies suddenly!” Death came at 4:35 P.M. Eastern War Time (2:35 Pacific War Time), at Warm Springs, Georgia, where he had gone two weeks ago to rest before going to the United Nations’ Conference called for the 25th of this month at San Francisco.” 13 x 20 inches. Price: $350.
“Welcome!” said Gussie, as Maggie walked in the back door of her old shop.
Diana followed, looking curiously around her. “I thought we were going to your house.”
“You’re here. I live on the second floor, above the shop,” Gussie explained.
Diana walked around the back room, looking at the inventory items Gussie hadn’t packed yet: boxes of antique doll arms, legs, wigs, and bodies. Dolls’ clothes, one box of hats, one of shoes. Two shelves of china heads, arms, and legs. One box of eyes. She shuddered. “Those are creepy! But not as creepy as the dolls at Cordelia’s house. Now I know why you two are friends. You have weird dolls, too.”
Maggie and Gussie looked at each other.
“I use those parts to repair old dolls. I didn’t know Cordelia had dolls,” said Gussie. “But lots of people collect them. What kind does she have?”
“She doesn’t exactly collect them,” said Diana. “That would be normal for a kid, I guess, but for an older woman—I mean, she must be over forty! It would be strange.” She ignored the half smile Maggie and Gussie exchanged. “She cooks them.”
“What?” Maggie blurted. “Cooks them? Are you sure?”
Diana nodded dramatically. “The first night I was there Dad said he’d get Chinese food for us because we couldn’t use the stove. I thought it was broken, so when he was out I looked at it. The oven was on, and there were two baby dolls inside. In a roasting pan! Now I know she does that all the time. She has parts of dolls upstairs in her bedroom, too, like you have in those boxes. Eyes, and hair, and arms and legs. Clothes, too.”
