A Case of Imagination

by Jane Tesh

  “And my girlfriend Gloria tried to reach you, too.”

  Another car drove up behind the Infiniti and honked for Nancy to move along. “Let me give you her number.” She dug in her purse and handed me a card. She gave me another wave and drove off.

  An ancient pickup wheezed to a stop behind the Mazda, and Buddy hopped out of the passenger seat. He had on the standard redneck uniform of overalls and tee shirt, his scraggly hair poking out from under a baseball cap. He pulled two duffel bags and a box from the back. Then he gave the side of the truck a slap and hollered, “Thanks!” to the driver, who put the truck in gear and roared off down the street.

  “Is that all?” I asked. I knew Jerry traveled light, but this was spare, even for him.

  Buddy picked up the duffel bags. “This is all he kept at my place. Where you want it?”

  I opened the trunk. “In here, thanks.”

  Buddy heaved the bags into the truck. He picked up the box. “This is mostly books.”

  “It can go on the back seat.”

  Once Jerry’s belongings were safely stowed, Buddy wiped his hands on his overalls and tugged his baseball cap tighter on his head. “So you’re headed for Celosia, huh? Not much to do over there.”

  “Not much for me here, either, Bud.”

  “Saw Bill the other day. Got him some pale little hottie.”

  “I know.”

  He grinned, showing crooked teeth. “Take three or four of her to make one of you. I like ’em tall and feisty.”

  This is Buddy’s idea of a compliment. “Thanks, Buddy.” I gave him the VW keys.

  “So you’re staying with the detective business,” he said.

  “Yes. There’s very little chance for advancement in the pageant world.”

  “Got a friend who’s a detective. It can get dangerous.”

  “I think I can handle it,” I said.

  Buddy nodded. “I know you can. Just be careful.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  He jerked a thumb toward my apartment building. “Gonna move out?”

  “I don’t think so. It depends on how things go in Celosia.”

  “You get ready to move, let me know. I’ll come help you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Buddy gave another gap-toothed grin. “Jerry still seeing Olivia?”

  “Apparently.”

  “She’s a mean little squirt.”

  “I believe she won Miss Mean Little Squirt in ’82.”

  “Always knew the boy wasn’t right. Tell him he better treat you like he should.”

  “He does. We’re really good friends.”

  Buddy’s little eyes twinkled. “All the same, if you need me to straighten him out, you give me a call. If the boy wants to communicate with the dead, I can arrange that.”

  ***

  I drove to my office, which was still hot and dead. But my phone and the answering machine were alive. No messages. Time to call the phone company and see what was going on. Maybe there’d been a power outage.

  “Thought I saw you come in.” Reid grinned from the door. “It’s hot in here, Madeline. Can’t you afford some air conditioning?”

  I was determined not to let him rile me. “Just checking my messages.”

  As usual, he parked his rear on my desk. “Oh, you got some cases?”

  “Two.”

  “At the same time? A true test of your detecting skills.”

  “They’re in Celosia.”

  “A hotbed of crime.”

  “Legitimate cases.”

  “Some farmer lose a cow? Grand Theft Bailer?”

  “I’m not going to discuss my cases with you. I just stopped by to pick up some things.”

  He got up. “Well, good luck. There’s quite a backlog of cases next door should you run out of things to do.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The phone company said there hadn’t been any service interruptions lately. They’d be happy to send somebody by tomorrow to check my phone, but suggested the problem might be in the answering machine and I might like to return it. I called Nancy’s friend Gloria and left a message, apologizing for missing her and asking her to please call again.

  I was almost to my car when I realized I’d left Gloria’s card on my desk. I’d need it if I wanted to try to get in touch with her from Celosia.

  When I came down the hallway, Reid was coming out of my office. He stopped, his expression pure guilt.

  “What were you doing in there?” I asked.

  “Just stopped by to see you.”

  “I locked that door.”

  He tried to bluff his way out. “It was open.”

  I was absolutely sure I’d locked the door. I’d even jiggled the doorknob. “You’ve been going in my office, haven’t you? You’ve been intercepting my messages and then erasing them.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re a sneaky bastard, that’s why. You’ve been stealing my clients so I’d think I was a failure and come back to you.”

  He knew he was caught. He grinned. “Is that so bad?”

  I pushed past him into my office. I looked around and decided there wasn’t a damn thing I couldn’t live without. “That’s it,” I said. “I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving?”

  “You can come in here as much as you like. Hell, you can dance naked on the desk. It’s all yours.”

  He followed me down the hall. “Madeline, come on now. It just shows you how desperate I am to have you back.”

  “I’ll find another office, and you can find somebody else to cheat.”

  “It was just a joke. I’ll give you one of my clients.”

  I stopped and whirled around. He skidded to a stop. “You’re not going to give me anything. I’m going to make this work on my own terms.”

  “Like your marriage?”

  I swung out, but he jumped back. My fist barely missed his nose.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “Violent beauty queen on the loose. Go ahead and leave. When you get tired of playing detective, I’ll take you back.”

  I knew if I said anything else, I’d explode. Then I’d be facing murder charges. I left Reid still grinning that shit-eating grin, got in my car, and drove to Baxter’s parking lot where I sat, my hands gripping the steering wheel, until I stopped shaking. Another part of my life blown to hell.

  When I’d calmed down, I went inside, sat at a table, and had a barbecue sandwich and a Coke. Okay, now, things are not that bad, I told myself. You weren’t making a go of it next door to Kent and Ross. You’ll be better off somewhere else. Plus you have two cases in Celosia. Concentrate on that. Everything will be fine.

  Everything was fine until I saw Olivia Decker.

  She came toward me like a small locomotive in full steam. With a loud scrape, she pulled out a chair and sat across from me. She folded her arms on the table and gave me the full force of those green eyes.

  “Okay, what’s the deal in Celosia?”

  I didn’t need this aggravation. “There isn’t any deal, Olivia. I have a couple of cases there, and Jerry wants to fix up the house.”

  “Exactly why I’m suspicious. Have you ever known Jerry to want to fix anything? There’s something about that house he’s not telling me.”

  “Well, he’s not telling me, either.”

  She looked as if she didn’t believe me. “He tells you everything.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  She slapped her black leather pocketbook on the table and rooted around for her checkbook. “Oh, you two are such buddies, I’m sure he’ll tell you if you ask. In fact, I’m so sure, I’m going to hire you to find out.”

  I had my sandwich halfway to my mouth. I put it down. “What are you talking about?”

  “He has to be getting money from somewhere. Maybe his uncle left him more than just the house.” She opened her checkbook. “What’s your fee?”

  “Olivia, why do you care?”

  Her green eye
s widened. “You know how I feel about Jerry.”

  “Aren’t you over?”

  She waved her hand as if dismissing the thought. “Just a little lovers’ quarrel. I still don’t understand why he doesn’t want any part of the Fairweather fortune.”

  But you’d love to get your hands on it, I thought.

  “So then he inherits this house and the land, which must be worth quite a lot, and decides to keep it. You see the mystery?”

  The only mystery here is what does Jerry see in this woman? Of course, he’s always been attracted to the perfect little fairy-tale-princess types. “It’s probably just a whim. You know he doesn’t settle on one thing for long.”

  She was getting impatient. “You want this job, or not?”

  Olivia’s one of these people who thinks money can buy anything. “I’m not going to spy on Jerry for you. Just ask him what he’s doing. If he cares enough about you, he’ll tell you.”

  She put her checkbook back in her pocketbook and stood, giving the chair another scrape. “You know something? He does care enough about me. I’m going to make damn sure of that.”

  I didn’t want to think about what she meant.

  Betsy was halfway to my table when Olivia whirled out, almost bumping into the waitress.

  “I was coming to see what she wanted,” Betsy said.

  “She wants me to find out why Jerry’s decided to keep this old house he’s inherited.”

  She pushed Olivia’s chair back under the table. “What would Jerry do with an old house?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Could be he’s thinking about settling down?”

  We gave this a few seconds and then both started laughing.

  “Nah, he’s just fooling around,” I said.

  Betsy folded her arms and gave me a long, hard look. “And when are you going to stop fooling around?”

  “You mean about being a detective? I’m serious about it, Betsy.”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean, when are you going to let Olivia Decker know she has some competition?”

  Why are my feelings so obvious to everyone except Jerry? “She already sees me as a threat.”

  “Well, she should. You need to step up your campaign, girl. Think of this as another beauty pageant, only there’s a better prize than some cheesy crown and a bunch of roses.”

  First Buddy and now Betsy. I’d heard just about enough helpful suggestions for one day. “Thanks, Betsy. I’ll have two sandwiches and some fries to go. Could you pack them in a cooler, please? It may be a while before we eat them.”

  She nodded as if satisfied she’d set me straight and went back to the kitchen. No need to explain to Betsy that one of the many reasons I left the pageant world was I didn’t have the killer instinct necessary to claw my way to the top. I wasn’t going to fight Olivia Decker for Jerry’s affections. If he couldn’t see me as a lover, what the hell was I supposed to do about it?

  ***

  I went by the hardware store and bought several gallons of blue paint, rollers, and brushes, then stopped at Super Food and loaded up on groceries. On the drive to Celosia, I felt as if I were leaving a whole world behind. Maybe I could find an office in Celosia. Then I’d be closer to Jerry.

  There it was again. Closer to Jerry. Jerry and I had always been close. Close friends. Maybe there wasn’t anything more to our relationship. I didn’t like Olivia or any of the other little gold diggers he managed to attract, but that was because I had his welfare at heart, that’s all. Besides, after my disastrous marriage to Bill, I certainly wasn’t looking for husband number two. Jerry would make a terrible husband. He didn’t have a job, he was always late, he was a junior conman.

  He was also kind, easy-going, and fun to be with. Who else was on my wavelength, who could really almost read my mind?

  Time to give myself a sermon. Damn it, don’t let your imagination run away with you. Concentrate on your cases. That’s the only reason you’re going back to Celosia.

  ***

  I left Parkland at 1:00 PM and got back to Celosia around one thirty. My first stop in Celosia was the Baker Auditorium. When Evan James saw me, he hurried up, twisting his yellow handkerchief in his hands.

  “Thank goodness you’re here! Come look at our set!”

  Venice was in ruins. The gondolas lay on their sides, shipwrecked.

  “When did this happen?”

  “We came in at one o’clock for the interviews and found it. Percy says it probably just fell overnight, but I believe we were sabotaged!”

  Percy strolled over. Today, he was wearing a blue caftan that billowed like a sail. “James, don’t exaggerate. The set wasn’t constructed properly. I told you that.”

  “Then who demolished the gondolas? They didn’t get that way from just falling over. The girls are going to be crushed. The pageant is tomorrow night, and we have to have a dress rehearsal today. It’s vital!”

  “We’ll have one, don’t worry.”

  Evan blew his nose on his handkerchief. “I just don’t know how much more of this I can stand. Have you found out anything, Madeline?”

  “Not yet. It’s important I talk with the contestants.”

  “Juliet, Donna, and Randi have their interviews today. I’ll ask them to come speak with you when they finish.”

  “The judges, too, please.”

  Evan blew his nose again and hurried up the aisle. Percy followed me as I examined the ruined set. He was still complaining about how the disaster upset his plans.

  “Can you imagine having to work under these circumstances? Why do I even bother? The girls will forget everything I’ve taught them.”

  Behind the fallen scenery were electric cords fastened down with duct tape. Venice had been painted on flats held in place by bar weights. Someone had removed the weights, and the flats had toppled over onto the gondolas, which perished under the weight of the painted waves. I picked up one of the weights. It wasn’t that heavy.

  “Who has a key to the building, Percy?”

  “Evan, of course. I don’t think anyone else does.”

  “How late was the building open last night?”

  “Well, I finally got the girls to walk in a straight line, and then Evan sent them home to practice their talent. I don’t know how he expects me to have the opening number ready by showtime. I left around nine, I think.”

  I set the weight aside. “Who’s got it in for you?”

  He clasped his large hand to his heart. “Me?”

  “Well, this is your show. Somebody might be jealous.”

  “The world is jealous of my talents, but there’s no one in this provincial little hick town with enough brain power to mastermind my downfall.”

  This guy and Gregory Prill needed to get together. “Does Evan have any enemies?”

  “No one I can think of. No one wants his job. They’re very happy he wants to do it every year.”

  “How do you know Evan? Are you originally from Celosia?”

  “Good lord, no. I live in Parkland. But everyone in the pageant world knows Evan. He’s been at this for years. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of him.”

  I’d forgotten what an insulated little world Pageantland could be. “So you’re doing this job as a favor?”

  Percy looked insulted. “I don’t do favors. I wanted to show Celosia what a real pageant looks like.” He frowned at the mangled gondolas. “Apparently, my efforts are not appreciated.”

  “How about the contestants? Did you turn down some young woman who had her heart set on becoming Miss Celosia?”

  He shook his head. “Evan said he had twelve girls audition, and he and the pageant committee took all twelve. They can’t afford to be choosy for such a small pageant. If the girls met the age requirement and paid the entry fee, they were in. Of course, one would think that at least half of them would have some sense of rhythm. I really don’t know if I care to keep beating my head against that particular wall.” He looked down at the piles of curled
cardboard. “Not that there’s much wall left in this dismal place. Ah, here’s our lovely Miss Celosia High now.”

  Juliet Lovelace came down the aisle, smiling and posing as if the auditorium were full of adoring fans. When she saw the remains of Venice, she stopped. “Wow, Evan said it was a mess. What happened?”

  Percy gestured, the folds of his caftan flapping. “Venice is no more.”

  She came up to the edge of the stage. “Did somebody do that on purpose?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Can it be fixed?”

  “I have no idea. It’s not my problem, is it? I’m not a stagehand.”

  She smiled up at Percy and batted her long eyelashes. “Did you want to talk to me?”

  “Me? No.” He gestured toward me. “But I believe Ms. Maclin would like to have a few words with you.”

  Juliet frowned as Percy sailed up the aisle. Then she turned and looked me up and down. “So you were Miss Parkland? That must have been some time ago.”

  “Forty years. I age well.”

  She blinked. Then she got the joke. “What I meant was, I hadn’t heard of you.”

  “Miss Parkland was my farewell appearance.”

  “You weren’t interested in going on?”

  “I’d had enough fun.”

  This went by her, too. “It really isn’t fun. It’s work. You have to stay in shape. You have to practice your song. You have to learn stupid dance routines. What did you do for talent?”

  “I played the kazoo.”

  Whiz. Right over her head. “I’m singing this old song from the Forties. It suits my voice.”

  “Juliet,” I said, “do you have any idea who’d want to sabotage the pageant?”

  She glanced at the stage. “You mean, do this?”

  “And try to burn the curtains.”

  “Lots of people. Everyone’s jealous of me—Donna and Randi, especially. Then there’s Ted Stacy and his protesters. They think anybody who participates in a pageant is some kind of traitor to all women.”

  “Who stands to gain the most if the pageant’s cancelled?”

  “I guess that would be Donna. She’s always coming in second to me. She hates it.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “At home, practicing my song.” She gave the stage another long look. “Do you think the pageant will be cancelled?”