Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders

by Darlene Franklin

  “Oh, I love what you’ve done with it.” She touched the photograph of our great-grandparents’ homestead. “I remember that cast iron skillet!” She pointed to other antiques displayed around the store. She slipped on a pair of glasses to look at the letters our grandfather had sent to our grandmother during World War II. “This is so much nicer. More. . .personal.”

  She opened the door to the bathroom and clucked at me. “Now, this has got to change. I have just the idea.”

  I didn’t know what problem Jenna could find with the bathroom. It was perfectly clean, well stocked, and even big enough to turn around in.

  Jenna extracted a small sketch pad from her purse—as constant with her as Dina’s steno pads—and drew a picture of a sink with a skirt to hide the ugly water pipes. She then painted a window on the right-hand wall. “If you like it, I can fix it for you.” She smiled. “After all, I’ll be here for several days.”

  I looked at it. “It’s charming. Thank you.”

  Jenna made a note of the supplies she would need. “I’m coming back to stay, girls.” She opened her arms wide and declaimed in her most Jenna-like voice. “I thought I had to leave to find what I wanted. And for a long time, I was happy in Taos. But I finally realized that all I ever wanted was right here in good old Grace Gulch.” She clapped her hands together like a pair of crashing cymbals and hugged the two of us. “My sister and my own dear, grown-up daughter.”

  Did I see a hint of panic in Dina’s hazel eyes?

  “And of course all those years in Taos gave me the experience I need for this job, and contacts in the art community. I wouldn’t have gotten this job straight out of college.”

  Should I warn Jenna that her future boss was a murder suspect and almost certainly a thief? I opened my mouth, preparing to jump in. One had to take one’s opportunities with Jenna. Once she wound up, she tended to talk nonstop. The phone rang. It was Lauren Packer.

  “Cici, I’m glad I caught you. Have you seen Audie today?”

  “No. Why?” Are you going to tell him he didn’t get the job as director of the arts complex? Tell him you’ve hired his future sister-in-law instead? I guess he hadn’t actually decided on the director yet.

  “I’ve been calling his cell phone, but he isn’t answering. It says it’s out of area.”

  The theater in Moore is out of the calling area. Surely Audie hadn’t decided to accept the job before we talked again.

  I heard voices in the background. “My next appointment is here. I’ve left a message, but have him call me if you see him first.” He said good-bye in his most lawyer-like voice. Not that lawyers sounded any different than the rest of us, but his officious tone made his transformation into the suave Mortimer Brewster in the play all the more amazing.

  Jenna examined stock she hadn’t seen for several months. “Do you have any new hats?” Hats were her passion.

  I grinned. “How about this?” The green straw hat with a navy bow whispered “Jenna” the first time I saw it.

  “Perfect. I want to look my best—a different best—tonight. And maybe. . .that scarf?” She picked up a chiffon number with swirling colors.

  Dina made rabbit’s ears behind Jenna’s head. “She has a date. With Gene Mallory.”

  Jenna did unexpected things, but a job interview with one murder suspect and a date with another, who was also a supposedly grieving son, were a bit much, even for her. Of course she didn’t know I suspected either one of them of murder.

  “That’s a speed record, even for you.”

  Jenna shrugged, tipping her head this way and that while she looked in the makeup mirror. “He was coming into the lawyer’s office after my interview. We started talking, and well, one thing led to another.”

  “I already told her that Gene is on the A-list.” Dina shrugged as if to say, I couldn’t stop her.

  “I can’t believe the two of you.” Jenna took the hat off and handed it to me to wrap. “You’ve known Gene all your lives. He’s harmless.”

  “We knew the suspects in Penn Hardy’s death, too, but that didn’t stop us from investigating. Promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  “The hat’s perfect,” Dina announced. “With that new cappuccino shade lipstick, you’ll look as pretty as the redbud in bloom.” They were as bad as two girls dressing for the prom. She did a jig. “Jenna and Gene, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes—”

  Jenna turned a shade of pink as bright as Dina’s hair. “That’s enough.” The laughter that laced her words let Dina off the hook. She paid for the merchandise.

  The two of them waltzed out the door, heads bent together in whispered conversation. Surely Jenna couldn’t—wouldn’t, be seriously interested in Grace Gulch’s resident bad boy. But maybe at thirty-four she might be desperate enough to marry the next man who asked her.

  It’s high time you stop feeling jealous of your sister. She might be prettier than I was, but I owned my own store and enjoyed the love of a wonderful man. Still I couldn’t help wishing I had a little of her zest for life. Try telling a clownfish to be satisfied when he shared an aquarium with a goldfish.

  Audie appeared about fifteen minutes after my sisters left. I hugged him tight and kissed him.

  “Whoa.” Audie wiggled in my arms, locked his hands around my neck and kissed me back. “Now, that’s better.” He smiled. “To what do I owe the honor of that welcome?”

  “Jenna came by.”

  “Ah.” Audie understood my ambivalent feelings about the sister I dubbed “Hurricane Jenna.” He even shared them.

  “Oh, I’m supposed to tell you. Lauren Packer wants to speak with you as soon as you’re back in town.”

  “I got the message and stopped by his office before I got here.” His eyes clouded. “We’ve got to talk about my job situation.”

  Uh-oh. Here it comes.

  He sighed. In another era, he would have been twisting the brim of a fedora between his fingers. “I headed back to Moore this morning.”

  26

  From: Jerry Burton (cbtrottoer@redbud.net)

  Date: Sunday, May 4, 9:36 PM

  To: Elsie Holland (Snoozeulose@ggcc.com)

  Subject: Threats

  I know your identity.

  Expect to hear from me soon.

  Monday, May 5

  Audie made a decision about the job? Without talking to me about it?

  I didn’t know which upset me more: the thought of moving to Moore or the fact that Audie made a unilateral decision.

  “I couldn’t do it.” His lips turned in an apologetic smile. “I was going to turn down the job. But then I kept thinking how the pastor said we need to trust each other. I turned the car around. We need to make this decision together, whether we stay or go.”

  He paused. He expected, wanted, needed a response from me.

  His statement registered deep in my psyche. “You turned around.” I started to sing inside.

  He gathered me into his arms. “I’m trying, Cici. I have a lot to learn. There’s something else you should know. Lauren’s offered me the position of the executive director of the new arts complex, overseeing all the programs, as well as continuing as director of the theater.”

  Something inside me relaxed. An old memory stirred, and I had an idea. “Can you come with me in the morning?”

  “With you? Anywhere.” Audie brushed my hair with his fingers.

  “There’s a place I’ve gone in the past. When we found out Jenna was pregnant and the house was in an uproar. Again, after Mom died.” I drew in a deep breath and held his hand. “I’d like to go there with you tomorrow morning. I want us to pray before we make a decision.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” Audie stroked his chin. “Let’s ask Pastor Waldberg to pray for us, as well.”

  We arranged to meet shortly after dawn. Didn’t Jesus often pray at that hour? After a brief good-bye kiss, Audie left.

  When I arrived home shortly a
fter six, every light in the house blazed. Jenna had exchanged the morning’s fringed jacket and denim skirt for a chartreuse silk blouse and pleated navy linen skirt. Her new straw hat perched on her golden hair like a tiara. She would blow Gene away.

  “Are you really interested in Gene?”

  “What’s that?” The words came out garbled as Jenna held bobby pins between her teeth and pinned the hat on her head.

  “Gene. Do you really like him?”

  “It’s more that we’re kindred spirits.” She pulled the hat off her head and started over. “Bad girl, bad boy. No one quite willing to believe we’ve grown up.”

  In Gene’s case, at least, I agreed. If he had ever done an honest day’s work in his life, he kept it well hidden.

  “You don’t really think he committed the murder, do you?” Jenna adjusted the tilt of the hat.

  I shrugged. “He had opportunity and motive. I think it’s either him or Lauren Packer or possibly Peppi Lambert.”

  “Lambert. That sounds familiar.” This time Jenna’s attempts to pin on the hat succeeded. The front doorbell rang. “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute, will you? I need to freshen up my lipstick.”

  I peeked out the window at Gene. His face was pale, the probable result of the sorrow of the past few days. Dressed in shirt and tie, he looked more mature. At least he hadn’t brought the faithful Bobo along for the date. I went downstairs and let him in.

  Jenna took enough time to try five shades of lipstick before she came downstairs.

  Gene’s eyes lit up when she made her entrance. And a grand entrance it was, dramatic and purposeful.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

  “No problem.” Gene looked willing to wait until the next full moon, if Jenna wanted.

  Jenna smiled shyly, pleased by the impression she’d made. Then she turned to me. “Before I forget, I remembered the story that circulated about the Lamberts. They left town about fifteen or sixteen years ago, right?”

  I nodded. “Peter was in my class until fifth grade, then they were gone until Peppi came back.”

  “I remember. His father taught freshmen English. He died in some kind of mysterious auto accident. We talked about it for weeks. Then the next thing we knew, the Lamberts had disappeared.”

  “To Chicago.”

  A solid thud made us both turn. Gene slumped against the wall. I slid a chair under him before he could fall to the floor. A greenish hue tinged his already pale face.

  “The Philip Lambert who taught English was Peppi’s father?” Gene croaked out the words.

  I fanned his face. “Yes. What’s wrong?”

  “I need something to drink.”

  Jenna took the change to their evening’s plans in stride and walked into the kitchen. She reappeared a moment later, twisting off the cap of bottled water. Maybe Gene wanted something stronger, but he wouldn’t find it in my house.

  He took a long swig. He lifted the bottle to look, as if the refraction of the light might return everything to normal. When he spoke, his voice sounded as gritty as gravel.

  “I drove the car that killed Philip Lambert.”

  “What do you mean?” Jenna’s voice cut the air. “We all thought it was some out of town hit-and-run driver.”

  I took the bottle from Gene’s shaking hand before he could drop it.

  “We let everybody think that. Mom told the police that she was responsible for the accident. Uncle Ron—he was already on the city council, even back then—convinced them to hush it up.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “But Mom wasn’t driving the car. I was. I shouldn’t have been driving; I only had a learner’s permit. I had been drinking and, well, I killed a man. I told you I’m no good for you, Jenna.”

  Jenna stood stock still, no doubt immobilized by shock. Then she knelt beside Gene. “I’ve made my own share of mistakes. God’s forgiven me, why won’t you let Him forgive you?” She put her arms around him and started praying.

  My mind ran along a different track.

  Did Peppi know the official version? That Magda Grace Mallory claimed to have killed her father?

  Revenge. Now, that was a motive for murder.

  ~

  Perhaps I should have told the police about Gene’s confession, but I wasn’t ready to do that yet. They already knew the official version of the accident, which might provide a motive for Peppi to murder Magda.

  Audie and I met for our prayer vigil at half-past six. The first molten gold startled the day awake as we drove down the dirt road to the meadow at the back end of the Crazy W Ranch. Dad said that my great-grandfather left the stand of trees alone to please his wife. The romantic notion enchanted me. Breathing in the heady scent of lilacs mixed with pungent cedar made me feel close to heaven. It was my favorite place to go pray, my personal burning bush.

  Audie came prepared for our vigil. “Remember how Pastor Waldberg told us we seemed to have an issue with trust? Well, I looked it up in a concordance. I learned so much.” He took me on a tour of the word “trust” in his favorite book of the Bible, Proverbs.

  “I realized I’d been placing my trust in the wrong things. I wanted the job in Moore because I thought it would bring security. Well, Proverbs 11:28 warns that ‘whoever trusts in his riches will fall.’ I kept the opportunity to myself, but again in Proverbs we’re told, ‘He who trusts in himself is a fool.’ I’ve told you that you’re my woman of noble character, but unlike the wise King Lemuel, I didn’t put my full confidence in you. Worst of all, I didn’t really trust God. And until I ‘trust the Lord with all my heart,’ He can’t ‘make my paths straight.’”

  This was the man I wanted to be my husband and father my children. “Take the job in Moore, if that will make you happy. I don’t care about the salary or if we have to move. I’d rather be with you in the center of God’s will than miserable on my own.”

  “Dearest Cici.” Audie traced the curves of my face. “Let’s ask God what He wants.”

  As we studied and prayed and talked, God gave us clear direction. I knew we would come here again, the next time a decision loomed.

  Hours later, we prepared to leave. “I’ve called a cast meeting for this evening.” Audie lifted my left hand to his lips. “We’ve got to move forward.” His blue eyes glittered like perfect sapphires. It felt so good, so right, to be one in spirit again.

  His cell rang. He covered the mouthpiece and whispered. “It’s Chief Reiner, returning my call.” He lifted his hand and spoke into the phone. “That’s right. We’re rehearsing tonight. . .I understand you’re in the middle of a murder investigation. . .I’d really appreciate it if you could come anyway.”

  I motioned for Audie to hand me the phone. I didn’t feel right withholding the information I had learned. “Chief, did you know Gene Mallory drove the car that killed Peppi Lambert’s father?”

  Reiner spoke in his no-nonsense, stay-out-of-cop-business tone. “The incident report indicates that Mrs. Mallory was driving at the time.”

  At least he didn’t pretend ignorance. “Gene explained that he did it, but his mother took the blame. The thing is, Peppi may believe Magda killed her father. That sounds like a motive for murder to me. Remember the pearl I found in her cubbyhole at the theater?”

  “We are investigating all angles.”

  I struggled to keep my voice steady. Why was he so obstinate? “Just think. Gene Mallory, Lauren Packer, and Peppi Lambert will all be at the rehearsal tonight. And Suzanne Jay, of course, although I understand you have confirmed her alibi. There might be fireworks when we get them all together.” I used my most wheedling tone. “We’d really appreciate your presence, Chief, in case something happens.”

  “Fool of an idea, if you ask me. What does your fiancé think he’s doing, holding a rehearsal with multiple murder suspects in the cast?” Silence lasted for a heartbeat then he blew out his breath. “But I can’t stop you. Either Frances or I will come.”

  I closed the phone and looked at Audie. “So
meone will be there.” Now that we had made the arrangements, I wondered if we had made a mistake. A shiver at odds with the bright May sunshine passed down my spine.

  “This production seems doomed.” Audie slapped the steering wheel. “You’d think we were producing Macbeth, not Arsenic and Old Lace.”

  “It will come together. You’ll see. It’s like the postal service—come rain or sleet or snow or sunshine—”

  “Murder and burglary and arrests, oh my.” Audie twisted his mouth in a wry smile. “It’s a good thing God knows how this will all come together, because I don’t have a clue. Well, maybe I do.” He pulled a list out of his pocket. “I brainstormed who could take over each of the roles in the play, in case something else happens. Tell me what you think tonight.” He bussed my cheek. “I want this to be the best production the MGM has ever put on. Magda’s memory deserves that much, at least.”

  I waved good-bye to Audie as he walked out the front door. Across the street, Jessie closed up shop at Gaynor Goodies. I bet she would add my morning’s absence from the store to the rumor mill. I waved at her as if all was right with my world.

  To be honest, I did feel a certain euphoria, the thrill of the chase running through my veins like a drug. I stopped by my house to cut up some fruit for the rehearsal and arrived at the theater a few minutes late.

  Peppi pulled up next to me. “Can I help you carry anything?”

  “Grab the bag of ice, will you?” I kept my voice neutral, willing myself to act as if nothing had changed.

  Perhaps I expected a somber mood among the cast, with Magda’s death hanging over us like a dark cloud. Instead, an excited buzz greeted my ears as soon as I opened the door.

  Dina noticed me struggling with the bowl and held the door open for me. “You just missed it,” she whispered. “Gene repeated what he told us last night. He says he isn’t worthy to take part in the play.”

  A white-faced Gene sat front and center, long legs dangling over the edge of the stage, head bowed in avoidance of the attention showered on him. Bobo laid his head on his lap.