Bob’s head nodded up and down.
“That’s how my fiancée here feels about finding the right earrings. She wants to wear them at the wedding. Something old, you know? Her mind can’t rest until she finds them.”
It was a version of the truth. I had occupied myself with the hunt for the murderer to the exclusion of everything else, including wedding plans.
“So if you could look at these pictures a little more carefully, we’d appreciate it.”
Audie’s man to man talk did the trick. Bob spread the prints across the counter. “It wasn’t either of these women.” He put aside Suzanne and Peppi’s pictures. “But this guy has been in here a couple of times.” He pointed to Lauren Packer’s photo. “What was your jewelry like? Maybe I’ll remember it.”
“Why, thank you,” I burbled, as excited as the jittery bride Audie had described. “That’s so helpful. I remember now.” I described a necklace listed among the burgled items.
Bob’s face lit up. “I remember that necklace.” The smile fled. “But I’m afraid that it’s already been sold. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s disappointing. Maybe Lauren has some of the other items.” I made myself sound discouraged and not elated. “I’ll ask him as soon as we get home. Maybe it’s not too late.”
I refrained from skipping until we exited the store. Then I allowed myself a small hop of joy. “That confirms it.”
“Lauren Packer and Vic Spencer were working together in a burglary ring,” Audie agreed. “No wonder they had their eyes on Magda’s pearls.”
Should I tell the police? No, Frances had dismissed that whole connection. My satisfaction lasted as clerks at two more stores along the way confirmed that Lauren Packer had utilized their services. By then I was trying to tie the burglaries into the murders.
“Do you think Spencer argued with Lauren? And so he killed him?”
“And Magda somehow guessed and so he killed her, too?” Audie considered the possibility. “Lauren must have known about Suzanne. Before all the brouhaha, I mean. When Magda had him change her will.”
“Lauren might have blackmailed Magda about a secret she revealed to him herself. That would be an awfully sick thing to do, taking advantage of your client like that. No wonder Shakespeare said, ‘First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.’”
“I never have liked Lauren. Oh, he knows how to turn on the charm. He plays Mortimer Brewster to perfection. But when he’s just being himself. . .I don’t know. He feels cold, somehow.” Audie drummed the black leather on his steering wheel. “Do you want to stop anywhere else? Or can you put it out of your mind for a few minutes?”
I tilted back my head and let out a long sigh. “I can do that.” Bright April sunshine streamed through the windshield, warming my face and teasing the worries out of my heart. A soft breeze wafted through the trees, turning over the leaves on the oak trees, swaying the purple heather like sea grass. It was a perfect spring day, and I was with the man I loved. I shut blackmail and murder out of my mind.
On our way out of Arcadia, we drove past several cafés. Audie pointed to the out-of-state license plates of the cars in the parking lot. “I bet I can guess which people are the tourists.” The smug smile on his face made me want to laugh. He had settled into life in Grace Gulch, but as long as he kept those flat Chicago vowels, no one would ever mistake him for an Okie.
Soon city sprawl replaced the back country road. Audie was driving to the suburbs around Oklahoma City. The area had been built up since my last visit to the state capital. Several years of nonstop construction had improved the I-35/240 exchange. We passed by the Ford Center, home to the recently relocated OKC Thunder. I doubted that even an NBA team would ever take the place of the Sooners and the Cowboys in the hearts of true Okies, however.
Could Audie understand that kind of passion for college sports, coming as he did from a city that boasted not only one but two major league baseball teams? My thoughts flashed to the compatibility questionnaire, with its question about similar backgrounds. Sports were the least of our differences. Today, maybe, I would learn Audie’s secret.
I kept up a running commentary on all the changes. It might seem like small potatoes to my big-city fiancé, but I reveled in the progress. I only hoped that it would never reach Lincoln County. I didn’t want big city life to invade Grace Gulch.
When we headed into Moore, I wondered just how far Audie intended to drive today. “We’re almost there,” Audie broke his silence. He exited the highway and made a few turns until we reached a quiet corner near the city center. A domed white brick building in need of some repair sat back from the street. The exterior suggested marble archways and cool interiors. A sign stood on the lawn, overgrown grass piercing the broken glass. The words MOORE COMMUNITY CENTER were written in faded black paint.
“We’re here.” Audie opened the door for me, and we stood at the edge of unkempt grass, looking at the building. He took my hand and led me to the entrance.
“A theater?”
In answer, he took a brass key from his pocket and opened the door. Cool air greeted us. A few dusty, wooden folding chairs dotted the floor in front of a stage, a very intimate setting, room for maybe two hundred seats. Definitely a theater, smaller than the MGM. Why did Audie have a door key?
Streaming sunlight set Audie’s hair afire with a deep golden color. He tilted his head as if to absorb the atmosphere of the place. I tried to identify the emotions that played across his features.
Homecoming. He looked like he had at long last returned to the place he belonged.
Scary sensations bubbled up my throat, making it hard for me to speak. “Audie. What’s going on?”
23
From: Jane Marple ([email protected])
Date: Thursday, May 1, 9:36 PM
To: Cici Wilde (Cici’[email protected])
Subject: Magda Grace Mallory’s pearls
You found Magda Grace Mallory’s body.
If you want to learn more about her pearls, talk to Lola Lambert.
Friday, May 2
Audie drew a deep breath, as if to compose himself, and took my hands. “A group of churches in the Oklahoma City area just bought this building. They want to start a theater ministry.”
One shoe dropped and echoed in my mind. I looked around the empty room, the space begging to be used. “And?”
“They’ve asked me to be the director.”
The second shoe fell, a silent thud. I dug out a tissue from my purse, dusted off a folding choir, and sat down. How could Audie exclude me from this important decision?
“Please say something.”
“Something.” When Audie didn’t smile at my feeble joke, I continued. “How long have they been in communication with you?”
“About a month.”
I uncapped the bottle of water I carried in my purse and took a long drink. Maybe it would cool off my increasing anger. What could I say?
“So this was your secret.” My voice was as flat as the Oklahoma panhandle.
“Yes.” If Audie sensed my hesitation, he didn’t respond. Instead he trotted to the farthest corner of the room. “Listen.” His excited whisper carried clearly. “The acoustics are perfect. This theater is a gem.” He took me on the grand tour, showing me dressing rooms, entrances and exits, and such.
Nothing much registered; my thoughts took a different road. I had guessed that Audie wouldn’t stay in Grace Gulch forever, in spite of the provision in Magda’s will. But so soon? Before we even married? Tears gathered behind my eyes.
Audie stopped at center stage. “You know I’ve always felt theater was my calling. I could do a variety of things here. Some community theater, maybe some musicals, definitely biblical dramas.”
I felt like the audience on the receiving end of a performance and not his future wife. Why didn’t my normally sensitive fiancé pick up on my hesitation?
He grasped my hands between his. “The pay is good, very good. I
want to provide for our family. This may be my best chance.”
What about Grace Gulch? What about my store? I couldn’t meet his eyes. Those deep pools of blue would bore into mine, begging me to dream with him. I felt more than saw his shrug.
“I could commute. It’s not that far. I feel like this theater could really minister to people. I know that Magda guaranteed me a lifetime position with the MGM. But with Lauren as acting director of the Center for the Arts. . .” Audie blew out a breath. “Well, let’s just say he’s a better actor than a boss. Magda had a knack for management; I don’t think Lauren does.”
Lauren. I was growing to hate the name. Possible murderer and thief and now husband-stealer.
“Look at me.” Audie lifted my chin with his finger. My lack of enthusiasm had doused the fire in his eyes. “I won’t accept this job if you don’t want me to. I would never do anything to hurt you. I have to agree with Wilde’s definition of selfishness. ‘Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live; It is asking others to live as one wishes to live.’ I want to love you like Christ loved the church.”
Oh, Audie. I pressed my lips together to keep from crying. In that case, why did you wait so long to tell me about this job offer?
“I realized that Pastor Waldberg was right. I was hogging this offer to myself when I should have trusted you with it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Please forgive me?”
I looked into clear eyes which reflected nothing but love and honor, and I touched my engagement ring. I opened my mouth to say yes, but instead what came out was “How could you?” I began crying in earnest.
“I’m so sorry.” He put his arms around me and repeated his apology. “I was wrong. I know that now, and I won’t do it again.”
He kissed me then, a gentle caress, one that reaffirmed and renewed our commitment. “Just pray about it, will you?”
I smiled at him through a blur of tears and promised I would. We left a few minutes later. City dwellers might consider the drive back to Grace Gulch a short commute, although nothing could beat the five-minute drive from my house to the store. He dropped me off a few minutes before noon.
Dina, her pink hair almost complementing the ’80s punk rocker look she adopted for the store, reported a brisk morning’s sales. “I did some research on Marjorie Dresbach, the WASP officer you featured in your window display. Interesting! I’d like to write a feature on her.” She waxed eloquent on the subject, her reporter’s enthusiasm engaged.
What would my sister do if Audie accepted the other position? Would the new director of the MGM use her services as props manager? I wouldn’t stay involved, not without Audie; theater was the lifeblood of our romance. I couldn’t spend evening rehearsals with him in Moore. Our dreams seemed headed in different directions, dreams that could tear our lives apart. What had Pastor Waldberg said, that couples with a 70 percent score on the compatibility test would need good conflict resolution skills? I never expected to have his assessment put to the test so soon. I wanted to follow Audie’s leading, but what about my hopes and goals? More than anything, why hadn’t Audie told me as soon as the offer came up? I stewed about it all afternoon.
Suzanne came into the store about mid-afternoon. Audie’s possible change of jobs might also disrupt her life, although I doubted any director would let go of the most experienced performer in Grace Gulch. I was tempted to ask her but couldn’t betray his confidence.
“I wanted to thank you for coming by the other day. Enid has visited, too, but that’s been about it.”
Bless our pastor’s wife for doing what she could in Suzanne’s grief.
Suzanne’s smile would seem sincere to someone who didn’t know her actress’s tricks. “I’m trying to think the best of everyone. No one knows quite what to say, you see. Do they mention the fact that Magda was my mother or not? Those are the kind ones. Others can’t decide whether to congratulate me on my good fortune or to suspect me of hastening her to an untimely end.”
“Have the police given you any more trouble?” Frances had indicated suspicion fell on my friend.
Suzanne shook her head. She examined a cloche like the one Gene Tierney wore in the movie Laura and placed it on her head. It suited her. “They’re satisfied with my alibi. But that doesn’t stop the gossip.” She adjusted the angle of the hat. “I’ll buy it.”
“Magda’s gone home.” I wrapped the hat in tissue paper before laying it inside a hat box. “To a better place.”
“And best of all, I’ll get to see her again.” This time Suzanne’s smile was genuine. “Magda was so happy when I became a Christian. But I can’t help thinking what if. The murderer robbed me of something precious.”
“I miss my mother, too.” I dreamed of the sage advice she could have shared about my conundrum with Audie. Even if she couldn’t advise me, she would have listened.
“That’s right. You lost your mother when you were in high school.”
Junior high, actually, but I didn’t correct her.
Another customer came in, and we couldn’t continue our conversation. Suzanne left without our speaking further. During a lull in business, I checked my e-mail.
If you want to learn more about her pearls, talk to Lola Lambert, it read. This e-mail came from Jane Marple, the sleuth in the same mystery that featured Jerry Burton and Elsie Holland. Was it the same person?
But—Magda’s pearls?
Everyone assumed the motive behind Magda’s death lay in the disbursement of her fortune. I wanted to confirm my hunch that another reason stemmed from events buried in the past. I had to get to the nursing home to talk to Mrs. Lambert.
Dina returned about mid-afternoon. “Did I leave my hat here?”
I retrieved her pink embroidered “Girls Rule!” ball cap from the shelf underneath the cash register. She had exchanged the leather vest she wore in the morning for a pink T-shirt. She looked like cotton candy on two legs. “Great! Peppi and I are going bike riding after we study.”
Peppi. Maybe Dina knew if her friend was related to Mrs. Lambert. “Do you study at her family’s home?” I hoped that the roundabout question would start the ball rolling. A direct question would arouse Dina’s investigative instincts.
“She lives here on her own. No family in the area.” Dina scrunched up her face. “Wait a minute. She’s mentioned a grandmother who lives close by.”
“That’s nice. It must be lonely, far away from her family. Maybe we should invite her over for Sunday dinner.” Mrs. Lambert had to be Peppi’s grandmother.
“I’ll ask her.” Dina sketched a wave and left.
During another lull in the afternoon’s business, I called Lauren Packer’s office. I thought I could determine his alibi for the time of Magda’s murder, if I could catch his part-time secretary. Young Wilma Olmstead was beauty-pageant pretty, if you discounted her habit of chewing gum. Lucky for me, thoughts rattled around in her head like stray marbles. Hopefully, my questions wouldn’t arouse any suspicions.
“Lauren Packer, attorney at law.” Wilma spoke with the clear, crisp tones of an actress. Audie should recruit her for his next production. If there was a next production. If he was here to direct it.
“Hi, Wilma, this is Cici Wilde. I’m afraid that I’ve gotten things confused, with everything that’s been going on.” I paused. Was I lying? Not really. I did intend to make a will after the wedding.
“Mr. Packer offered to meet me at his office on Saturday afternoon. I know that’s a special kindness. I thought the appointment was tomorrow, but when I looked at my date book, I had written down last Saturday, at two. I don’t know if I wrote down the wrong date or what.”
Lauren often made his own appointments. Wilma wouldn’t question me.
I heard Wilma ruffling through paper. “I’m sorry, Cici. I don’t see your name listed for either Saturday.”
“That’s strange.” The pretend puzzlement I put into my voice would have impressed Audie. “I could swear he set up a special time for me on Saturday.
Does he keep track of his weekend appointments? Maybe he forgot to write it down.” I held my breath after I reached the crucial point. I hoped Wilma would cooperate, not question my reason for asking.
I heard the rustle of pages. “No, he didn’t have any office appointments last weekend. He marked through both days with a big X, indicating he wouldn’t be coming in. He must have forgotten to write it down. I can reschedule. What time is convenient for you?”
“I’m not sure. Please don’t bother him about it. I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” And when I did make my will, I would go to my regular lawyer, Georgia Hafferty.
I felt guilty for misleading Wilma, who was so friendly and helpful. What had I learned, after all? So what if Lauren was out of the office on a Saturday afternoon? No one expected a lawyer to keep weekend hours. Still, it suggested he had opportunity, and we already knew his motive.
I dug out my steno pad and made notes of my conversation with Wilma before the end-of-day rush started. What other leads could I investigate? Did I need an excuse to visit Mrs. Lambert? I didn’t think so.
On impulse, I called Enid Waldberg, the pastor’s wife, and asked her to go with me to the nursing home. “I need to speak with Mrs. Lambert.” I explained the strange e-mail and the questions it raised about Magda’s pearls. “She seems to know something. I’d appreciate your company. You might help neutralize the atmosphere.”
“Of course.” Enid’s gentle laughter came down the line. “I’ll be happy to be your Watson for the evening.” She arrived at the store a few minutes after six, and we drove straight over to the senior facility.
Mrs. Lambert sat in the same green chair as last week, her back ramrod straight, fire sparkling in her dark eyes. She might be unpleasant, but her passion for life stood out among the people who suffered from Alzheimer’s or worse. I shuddered.
Enid returned greetings to a few residents, inquiring after grandchildren and bingo tournaments. At last she neared our target.
“Mrs. Lambert. How are you this evening?” Enid used her best pastor’s wife voice. She was dressed in confidence-inviting attire, a soft, pink sweater over grey linen slacks. Curling brown hair gone to gray framed her face.
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders Page 17
