by Jane Tesh
“How do you think I feel with her in the house?”
“We’ve been through a lot together. I can’t just throw that away.”
“A few drunken brawls and you’re blood brothers? We’ve been through a lot together, too, Jerry.”
But Olivia hadn’t jumped off the roof of the science building. Olivia hadn’t traveled all night in the back of Sam Ferguson’s Dodge pickup to see Ben Risky and the Fiery Mountain Boys’ farewell performance in Charlotte. Olivia hadn’t gone cross-country in a two-door Geo Metro looking for the tallest scariest roller coasters, or been underground at Disney World, or seen The Tales of Hoffmann all sixteen times it was performed by the Houston Opera.
Nor would she want to.
She didn’t even want to go into the secret passageway. If she married Jerry, his fun times would be over. Couldn’t he see that?
I waited, hoping this would escalate into a first-class argument, but Olivia abruptly changed the subject.
“Can this Nell person do floors?”
“I’m sure she can,” Jerry said.
“Because the bedroom floors are hardwood and should be refinished.”
“I’ll ask her.”
“And have you decided what to do about the upstairs parlor?”
That’s mine, I wanted to shout. My studio.
Wait a minute. What sort of mushrooms had I been chewing?
“I haven’t decided,” Jerry said.
“You could make it into a suite. It would triple your profits.”
She went on about inventory and cash flow and turnover. I’m sure Jerry’s eyes had glazed over long before she finished. I didn’t want them to know I’d been listening, so I trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. Nell was getting a beer out of the refrigerator.
“Blondie still here?”
I nodded. She tossed me a beer. “Thanks.”
She popped the top and took a swig. “You’d better make your move pretty soon.”
“I’m not going to make a move.”
“Then how’s he gonna know how you feel?”
It’s bad enough having Shana rewrite my life. I didn’t want advice from Nell.
“Just paint, okay?”
***
Juliet’s funeral service was held in a small gray stone church on Main Street. Evan James and Cindy were there, as well as the judges, Benjy Goins, Kimberly Dawn, and Chuck Hofsteder. Randi, Karen, and most of the Miss Celosia Pageant contestants were there, but Donna Sanchez was absent. The rest of the pews were filled with townspeople and teenagers. A slim woman in black sat by herself in the front pew. I guessed she was the relative Ted had mentioned. Ted came in and sat near the back. Chuck Hofsteder sat by himself, wiping his eyes.
I slid into the pew next to him. “My condolences, Chuck.”
He blew his nose into a Kleenex. “She was a lovely girl. Such a waste. She could’ve gone all the way to the top. Celosia didn’t know what it had. She would’ve made this town famous. Who’ve we got now? None of the other girls come close.”
“Maybe next year.”
He nodded and gave his eyes a final wipe. “Yes, you’re right. I should be looking toward the future.”
“How did you hear about Juliet?” I asked.
“I was at the country club having dinner, and the news went around like wildfire. I couldn’t believe it. I called Benjy to see if he’d heard, and he was just as appalled as I was.”
The service began. After the choir sang a hymn, we were asked to bow our heads in prayer. The minister had a short sermon about how tragic it was for a young life to be cut short. Another hymn, a parting prayer, and we were done.
Chuck Hofsteder shook my hand. His fingers were damp. “Thank you for sitting with me, Madeline.”
“I could tell you were upset.”
“Juliet was our best hope since Kimberly Dawn.” He sighed. “You know how it is. You’re tall. The shorter girls just don’t have that regal air. Juliet was the tallest girl in the competition. It makes a difference. Kimberly was the tallest in her pageant, too.”
And being tall myself, I hadn’t really noticed.
Chuck was still bemoaning the lack of talent in Celosia. “Donna and Karen are just too petite, and Randi lacks finesse.” His gaze settled on the choir. “Now there’s a possibility. That young lady on the front row. What do you think?”
Scouting for contestants at a funeral. Pageants must have fried his brain.
He went up the aisle. “I’m going to speak with her about next year.”
Ted met me in the parking lot. “Madeline,” he said. “The police won’t tell me anything. Do you know anything?”
“Not much. I was hoping the killer would show up with a big lighted sign on his chest.” I frowned. Ted was tall, but then, so were all the judges and Evan James. Whoever killed Juliet had to be tall enough to reach the cords hanging on the wall. I could reach them, Ted could, too.
I thought I recognized a woman standing by the church door talking with the pastor. “Is that one of your protesters?”
“Samantha Terrell.”
Samantha Terrell saw me and came over, smiling. I remembered the small woman with her cloud of light brown hair from that first day I’d met the protesters. Her smile was a larger version of her son’s smile.
“Austin can’t stop talking about you and Jerry,” she said. “He has the best time at your house. I hope he’s not bothering you.”
“Not at all,” I said. “Jerry needs someone to play with.”
The pastor moved on to another group of people. Samantha Terrell sighed and shook her head. “This is so sad about Juliet, isn’t it? Did you speak with her aunt, Ted?”
“No, she slipped out before I could say anything to her.”
“Did you know her family?” I asked Samantha.
“I knew her mother. Wild as a buck. She had Juliet when she was sixteen and never could control her.”
“Madeline is investigating Juliet’s murder,” Ted said.
Samantha’s dark eyes widened. “Really? Is that why you’re in town? I thought you came to see about the Eberlin house.”
“I seem to have fallen into this case.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
Ted sighed. “Me.”
Samantha frowned and for that moment looked exactly like Austin at the receiving end of one of Denisha’s pronouncements. “Ted Stacy, your problems with Juliet are old news.” She turned to me. “He told you about that ridiculous sexual harassment complaint, didn’t he? Absolutely ridiculous.”
“It doesn’t look good for me, Sam,” he said. “Some people have been giving me very dirty looks.”
“They’re crazy. The murderer could’ve been some nut off the streets, some escaped lunatic.”
“That seems far-fetched for Celosia.”
“So does murder.”
Chuck Hofsteder came up to us, smiling a broad smile. “Good news, Madeline. Jennifer Sasser is very interested in the Miss Celosia Pageant. She says no one’s ever asked her. Can you believe that? This is great. She’ll be a terrific contestant.”
Ted looked at him askance. “This hardly seems the time to be celebrating something so trivial.”
Chuck waved him off. “Ted, everybody knows how you feel about pageants. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Madeline, you know what I’m talking about. If we want the pageant to have a future, we have to start building it back up now. Jennifer says she has a cousin who’d be interested, too. You wouldn’t by any chance be available to do some coaching, would you? These girls are brand new to the pageant scene. They could use some of your expertise.”
“No, thanks, Chuck,” I said. “I’m retired.”
He scanned the crowd. “You know, Augusta Freer has a niece about pageant age. I ought to ask her if Denise wants to try out.”
He hurried off to speak to a woman standing in the parking lot. Ted and I exchanged a look of disbelief with Sam
antha.
“Speaking of escaped lunatics,” she said. “Well, I’ve got to go pick up the girls at the movies. Ted, no more of this ‘I’m the prime suspect’ talk, you hear me? Nice to see you again, Madeline.”
Ted waited until she had gone and then smiled wryly. “I was going to see if you’d like lunch, but my appetite’s gone.”
“Mine, too,” I said.
“Call you later?”
“Sure.”
I watched him cross the churchyard to his car. I felt uneasy. There wasn’t any solid evidence that put Ted at the scene of the crime, but with his history of problems with Juliet, would the police, anxious to find the murderer, be inclined to believe Ted was in some way responsible for Juliet’s death? I wanted to talk with Chief Brenner, but I knew he’d just warn me off again.
I walked over to Evan James and Cindy. In her usual forthright way, Cindy was trying to console Evan.
“You’ve got to stop blaming yourself. You couldn’t have done anything. If you’d been backstage, you might have gotten killed, too.”
Evan wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and blew his nose. “It’s just so unsettling.”
“You need to think about the future. Why don’t you help with the next musical? That’ll take your mind off pageants for a while.”
“Pageants are my life. You know that.”
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I offered my sympathies. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad about this, Evan.”
He gave his nose another blow. “Thank you, Madeline. I can’t help thinking there could have been something I could’ve done to keep this awful thing from happening.”
“There’s no way you could’ve known.”
“That’s what I keep trying to tell him,” Cindy said.
Evan sniffed. “How is your investigation coming along?”
“Well, every time I get a lead, it leads me to someone else. I wanted to ask you about Cynthia Riley.”
Cindy made a disgusted sound. Evan looked puzzled.
“Cynthia Riley? She was in the pageant years ago.”
“I heard there was a problem with her microphone and she blamed you.”
“Oh, that.” He frowned as if recalling the incident. “Yes, she was quite incensed. The power failure was unintentional. At the time, we were working with some inferior mikes, and they had a bad habit of cutting out during performances. I didn’t think she was ever going to forgive me.”
“But she wouldn’t have won, anyway,” Cindy said. “She couldn’t sing, and she looked like a clothes hanger in that gown.”
“Cindy.” Evan’s voice sounded tired. “No more negativity, please.”
“Well, she did. She was too thin and bony to be a queen. Besides, it was Kimberly Dawn’s year.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“This is going to sound far-fetched,” I said, “but do you think Cynthia Riley could still be holding a grudge?”
“Oh, my, no,” Evan said. “We’ve spoken many times since that pageant, and she’s always been perfectly civil. She’s even laughed about the incident, saying I saved the world from hearing her sing.”
“She’s an exorcist, right?”
Cindy gave a snort. “She can certainly scare anything away.”
“Cindy, please. Madeline, Cynthia is a buyer for Farrell’s, a chain of ladies’ dress shops and very successful. She doesn’t need pageants. As for the exorcist business, I think she dabbles every now and then.”
“Do you know if she had any contact with Juliet?”
Evan looked to Cindy, who shrugged. “I’m sure she knew who Juliet was. Everyone knew.”
I thanked them for the information. My next stop was the local Farrell’s store.
The dress shop was in the Olympia Mall, Parkland’s largest mall. Inquiries about Cynthia Riley led me to the bridal section where Cynthia was inspecting a shipment of bridesmaids’ dresses. She had on another clingy beige outfit and lots of gold jewelry.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “It’s Madeline, I believe? How can I help you?”
“Do you have time to answer a few questions?”
“My pleasure.” She indicated two pink and gold chairs usually reserved for brides and their mothers. “Shall we sit down?”
We sat. Cynthia crossed one slim leg over the other and smoothed her skirt. Her beige pumps and stockings matched her dress. She tossed back her hair.
“Now then, what do you need to know? Did Shana send you after me?” She seemed pleased by the idea.
“This visit is about something else. Did you know Juliet Lovelace?”
“Yes, of course.” If Cynthia Riley had seemed pleased before, this question thrilled her. “Am I a suspect? How exciting! Oh, no, wait. She was killed Friday night. I was here at the store in a meeting with ten other people. Guess that lets me out.”
I felt an overwhelming desire to pull her ever-swinging hair. “Sorry you’re so disappointed.”
“Well, really, why would I kill Juliet? I hardly knew her. We had nothing in common.”
“You had a pageant career once.”
“Oh, that.” She waved a hand. “Nonsense. It was the thing to do in Celosia. All the girls tried out. I suppose you heard about what happened during my talent. I was hopping mad at the time, but now I look back and laugh. I can’t sing. Whatever made me think I could?”
“Still, it must have been disappointing.”
“If I’d kept up with my horoscope that day, I would’ve seen it wasn’t in the stars. My talents lie elsewhere. If you think I’ve been harboring resentment all these years, you’re wrong. There’s nothing worse than an ex-beauty queen who can’t get off the runway. We’re not all Kimberly Dawns who have to be around the pageants every year, and pretend to have a modeling career when we’re making sleazy lingerie ‘commercials.’”
Sounded a little resentful to me. “She beat you out in your year, right?”
“What can I say? The planets were not aligned. But I managed to escape Celosia and find a real career.” Another toss of her head. “The game’s up. I know why you’re really here. Go back and tell Shana I won’t come to her house again. Of course, I can’t promise I won’t stop by the bookstore every now and then.”
“That wouldn’t be very smart.”
“Hayden is simply too much of a temptation.”
I tried to keep my tone light. “Why don’t you just leave him alone?”
She gave me a long, considering stare. “I might just do that. After all, there’s another man in town.”
Good lord. Was she going after Jerry?
The shock must have shown on my face. Cynthia Riley laughed.
“Well, you’re not sleeping with him, are you? I’ve seen him with this tiny little blonde. She doesn’t look like much of a threat.”
As much as I would love to see Cynthia Riley and Olivia Decker duke it out, I was too appalled by Cynthia’s nerve to think of a reply.
She continued, “Of course, if the two of you are an item, then it just makes life more of a challenge.”
I stood. I managed to keep my voice in control. “Thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome.” She tossed her head and smiled a superior smile. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
***
I was glad I had the drive from Parkland to Celosia to clear my mind. It would make me very happy to pin Juliet’s murder on Cynthia Riley. Unfortunately, before I left Farrell’s, I checked with the manager. There had been a meeting Friday night, and Cynthia had been present.
I gripped the steering wheel and had a serious talk with myself. Settle down. She’s not the first woman to want Jerry, and she won’t be the last. You have to do something to make sure you are the last. And what have you done lately? Nothing.
Jerry hadn’t gone to the funeral. He told me long ago the only other funeral he’d be attending would be his own. Still, the gloomy event of the day must have had some impact on him. When I entered the house,
I heard music, and it wasn’t the sprightly “Doll Song” from Hoffmann, or Paul Bunyan’s cheerful chorus of lumberjacks. It was the aria Paul Bunyan’s daughter, Tiny, sings, lamenting the death of her mother. The soprano’s clear voice was filled with anguish.
I stood for a long while, listening. My mother was alive. Jerry’s had vanished in flames. He rarely spoke about her or his father. I often sensed he was holding in an ocean’s worth of emotion, and one little crack would result in a deluge of grief. I stepped inside. Jerry muted the sound, but not before I saw the look on his face.
The best way to be in these circumstances is casual. “What’s up?”
He turned the volume down. “Just seeing how the CD sounds.”
“Nothing like a little Paul Bunyan in the afternoon.”
His attention was on the CD player. “This is a really great system.”
“Are you to the part about the soup and beans?”
“Way past that.”
“Damn. That’s my favorite.” I knew better than to say anything about his parents. I looked around the room for something else to talk about. There were two large square candles on the mantel. “Nice candles.”
“Olivia brought them.”
A peace offering?
“Check out the lighter.”
The lighter was a long silver rod. One click and you had a nice flame. “Bet that set her back a little.”
“She always has to have the best.”
I was concerned that Olivia was already spending her own money on this venture. “Okay, so your guests have super deluxe candles. That’s nice.”
I sat down on the sofa and gazed at “Blue Moon Garden.” For a moment, I imagined myself in my upstairs studio putting the final touches on another picture of wildflowers, maybe the wildflowers that grew around the Eberlin house, the Queen Anne’s lace and the buttercups, white and gold, like the Fairweather mansion. I really wished Jerry could talk a little about his family.
“You seem kind of down. Did you and Olivia have another disagreement?”
“I’ve been thinking about my family.”
Whoa.
“About Uncle Val in particular. I should’ve stayed out of the attic.”
“Jerry, your uncle might have been eccentric, but people in town have said lots of good things about him. Wouldn’t Austin and Denisha be unable to talk about him or mourn him if he’d done anything improper?”
