by Tim Myers
“I suppose I could eat something,” I said. “Just as long as it doesn’t involve ketchup.”
“Come on, what’s meat loaf without ketchup? You’ll get over it pretty quick, I promise you.”
We walked into the apartment as Sara Lynn was transferring the meat loaf from the pan to a fancy platter I didn’t remember I owned. “You two are just I time,” she said. “Dinner is ready. You’ve just got me to wash up.”
Bradford asked me, “Where are your roommates?”
“They’re probably asleep on my bed. Neither of them cares much for company.”
“What a shock, antisocial cats.” Bradford hovered over the meat loaf for a second, wafting the smell into his nose. “Oh, man, that’s what Heaven smells like to me. Is there any chance you . . . ? No, I’m sure you didn’t—it’s okay.”
Instead of replying, Sara Lynn walked to the freezer and pulled out a large glass of milk, crystals already forming on the top of it. “Of course I froze some milk for you, Bradford. I would never forget that.”
Bradford walked to her after she put the glass down and picked Sara Lynn up in his arms. “You are the best.”
“Put me down, you big oaf,” she said, laughing as she swatted him with the dish towel thrown over one of her shoulders. He twirled her once in the air, then put her back down. “Now wash up before the food gets cold,” Sara Lynn commanded.
After we were seated, Sara Lynn said, “Bradford, would you say Grace?”
“Grace,” our brother said, a huge grin on his face. That had been his joke in the family, one he’d been swatted for on more than one occasion.
Sara Lynn said, “So you don’t want any meat loaf after all.”
Gravely, our brother said the blessing, and then the three of us set out to eat everything within reach. The sharp ache of knowing that someone wished me had faded away in the warm love of my family. We’d ways been close, and the next hour reinforced why. I found myself hesitating to eat at one point, just watching my brother and sister, loving the fact that were both there with me now. Bradford noticed watching them and asked, “Are you going to those potatoes?”
As his fork neared my plate, I swatted it away with mine, something I’d grown adept at doing growing up. “You had your share. These are mine.”
“Come on, I’m wasting away here.”
“Oh, yes, I agree. I can barely see you; you’re so thin.”
After we were finished, I pushed my plate away. “I cannot believe all I ate. I’m stuffed.”
Sara Lynn asked, “Does that mean you don’t have room for dessert?”
“I’ll have hers,” Bradford volunteered.
“You don’t even know what we’re having,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter, if Sara Lynn made it, I want some.”
She said, “Even if it’s coconut pudding?”
Coconut was just about the only food in the world my brother wouldn’t touch. He made a face, then said, “You wouldn’t do that to me. Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be joining us,” Sara Lynn said. She watched his face pucker into a frown until she added, “I can’t take it. I confess, I made banana budding parfaits.”
Bradford’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas. “Bless your soul, Sis. Like I said, I’ll eat Jennifer’s.”
“Hey, not so fast. I’ve got room for a parfait.”
“Of course you do,” Sara Lynn said as she got out our desserts. It was obvious my brother’s portion was twice the size of mine. “That’s not fair. Why does he get more than I do?”
Bradford smiled as he dug his spoon in. “That’s because I’m just a growing boy.”
“Growing wider, you mean. I’m telling your wife.”
Sara Lynn said, “Enough. Must you two revert back childhood? There’s plenty for everyone.”
I took a bite, then said, “We’re not reverting. You said I used to be the ones who squabbled all the time, Bradford was the peacemaker of the group, remember?”
“All too well,” Sara Lynn said as she ate some of her own dessert. “This has been wonderful.”
“I agree,” Bradford said. “We should do it once a week.”
“You’re just trying to get off your diet,” I said. He gave me his biggest puppy-dog-eyed look. “That hurts, Jennifer. You know all I want is to be with my sisters,” he said solemnly before he couldn’t hold it in any longer and cracked up.
“It has been great fun,” I said. Bradford looked at his watch. “I’ll stay and help with the dishes, but after that, I have to get home.” Sara Lynn said, “Go on, you have our blessing. You need to spend some time with your family.”
“You two are my family, too,” he said as he stood and kissed our cheeks in turn. “Thanks for everything. I’m just sorry about the circumstances that brought me here. Lock up as soon as I leave, okay?”
“We will,” I said as I walked my brother to the door. I thought about telling him about my earlier conversation with Wayne, but I didn’t want to ruin the festive mood of our dinner party. Instead, I said, “If you get the chance tomorrow, why don’t you come by the shop so we can chat?”
“Is there something on your mind?” he asked at the door.
“Nothing that can’t wait,” I said. I gave him a bear hug, and held on a little longer than I normally would. “Thanks for everything tonight. I can’t tell you how much it meant having you here.”
“Hey, I was glad to do it.” He patted my shoulder then added, “Don’t worry, Jen. We’ll catch her.” I just nodded, then dead bolted the door after he was gone. As Sara Lynn and I did the dishes, we had the chance to talk about anything in the world, but I was glad we spent the time reminiscing about our childhood rather than discussing what was going on at the present. Our conversation reminded me of everything right and good in my life, and for just a little while, I was able to lock my troubles away.
The next morning, I was ready to get started on the abhorrent wedding invitations when I was surprised to and Melinda Spencer—the mother of the groom— waiting for me as I approached Custom Card Creations.
“I hope I’m not too early,” she said as I approached.
“No, by all means, come on in.” I unlocked the door, let her inside, then dead bolted it behind me. Having one customer inside was bad enough; I wasn’t ready for any walk-ins thirty minutes before I was due to open.
“I was hoping we could have a quick lesson before you open for business this morning,” Melinda said. “I need something to take my mind off these wedding plans.”
“I didn’t realize you were so involved in them,” I said as I prepared to open.
“That’s the problem. Poor Donna doesn’t even have a say in most of the things being arranged. I’ve heard if bridezillas before, but it can’t be anywhere near as bad as a mother of the bridezilla. You can’t imagine the bridesmaids’ dresses she’s picked out. I can’t even fathom what kind of invitation she’s chosen.”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I said.
“Oh, dear, she’s commissioned you to do them, hasn’t she? Jennifer, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to imply that your work is less than delightful.” I shook my head. “You will after you see them.” I grabbed my choices—the fireworks theme and the brass fittings card—and showed them to her. Melinda took the cards from me and said, “Why, they’re perfectly lovely. I should have known you would come up with something nice, just seeing the samples in your shop.”
I’d posted several different cards on the walls, including step-by-step instructions on how to make them, hoping they would inspire neophytes afraid to make that first card. “Don’t get your hopes up. Mrs. Albright chose something a little less traditional.”
“More modern than these? Do you have a sample?”
“I do, but I’m not sure I want to show it to you. To be honest with you, I was hoping to talk her out of it.” The last thing I wanted to do was to face the groom’s mother with the Bad Art Deco invitation.
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sp; “I’ll see it sooner or later,” she said. “It might as well be now.”
I grabbed one of the mock-ups from the workroom, shuddering at the color choices and design. “Okay but remember, I’m making these under protest.” I handed her the red, silver and black card, dreading her reaction. After a few moments of dead silence, she said, “They are certainly different, aren’t they?”
“Listen, I’m so sorry. I was hoping she’d choose one of the other designs, I swear it.”
Melinda shook her head resolutely. “I understand Jennifer. Don’t blame yourself. If I thought I had a prayer in the wind of changing her mind, I’d choose this as my battleground.” Melinda thought about it a second, then said, “I’ve got an even better idea.” She studied the two best cards, then handed me the one with the brass fittings serving as wedding rings, my original design. “How much trouble would it be to make a hundred of these?”
“I can do it,” I said, “but Anne Albright is determined to use that version.”
“And she shall, for all of the guests on her side the family. My friends and loved ones will receive this one. Now, what are you charging her?”
“It’s not fair to quote you that. Part of my fee is because she changed her mind after commissioned the job. I can’t charge you that much.”
“Of course you can.” She whipped out her check book. “Give me the figure, and don’t you dare sham a penny from it. Anne is parading her spending around as if it rivals the national budget, so I’ll know if you try to charge me less.”
I thought about fighting her, but Sara Lynn had taught me long ago that when somebody is trying to force money on you in your business, there are only two things you should do: keep your mouth shut and your hand out. Melinda didn’t bat an eyelash when I quoted her the fee I was charging. She wrote the check with a flourish, and as she handed it to me, she said, “I wouldn’t mention this to Anne if I were you. We’ll just keep it our little secret.”
“Believe me, I have no desire to tell her. Thanks,” I said as I waved the check in the air before putting it in my cash register.
“No, I should be the one thanking you,” Melinda said. “She may bollix up the entire wedding, but at east my side of the family will receive suitable invitations. Now that we have that settled, do you have time d teach me to make cards?”
“Absolutely.” With the check she’d just written me, she’d more than paid for the privilege. I grabbed a few tools and supplies and met her at the desk in front. “Now there are lots of ways to do this. Why don’t you choose a particular card and we’ll start with hat?” I’d laid out a sampling of some of the more basic cards, including ones with single folds, double folds, raised borders like I’d taught Lillian, and cards with an open window on the front. “I always like to start off with the simplest and work my way up,” she said.
I taught her how to fold a crisp edge; then we started discussing the possibilities. Melinda finally decided to make a card for her future daughter-in-law, something that I thought was a lovely gesture. As she chose ribbons, rubber stamps and paper flowers I’d made for sale, it was all I could do not to include a baby rattle. I swear, one of these days my sense of humor is going to be the death of me. Once she had the outside of the card decorated, I asked, “So what would you like to say inside the card?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Welcome to Our Family sounds about right to me. Does that sound okay to you?”
“I think it’s perfect,” I said, knowing that Donna was getting the better bargain when it came to the mother-in-law derby. “We can use rub-on letters, or print something out on the computer. If you’d like; you can hand-letter it yourself. That’s what makes it so special, in my opinion.”
She held up one of the samples of fancy lettering. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that. Would you mind doing it for me?”
“I’d be delighted,” I said. I grabbed one of my best calligraphy pens and copied down her message inside the card. “That’s lovely.”
“I agree. I think you’ve done a great job.”
I took an envelope I’d made of the same stock and slid her card into it. “There you go.”
“What do I owe you?”
Now I’m as interested in making enough money to keep my business going as the next gal, but there was no way in the world I was going to take money for that lesson. I said, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I included that in the amount I quoted you earlier for the invitations.”
“Jennifer,” she said in a stern voice that I was sure had served her well as a mother, “I won’t hear of it. “Well, I suppose I could give you a refund if you insist,” I said.
Her frown eased. “Very well, I give up. Let me ask you something. Do you happen to have any books on basic calligraphy? This will be the perfect time for me to learn.”
I led her to the proper aisle. “I’ve got something even better. Here’s a kit with paper, pens and tip along with the best beginning book I’ve been able to find. It makes a perfect starter kit.”
“I’ll take it,” she said.
“Is that all?” I asked as I moved to the register.
“Oh, no, I’d like to look around more, if that’s all right with you.”
There was no way I’d ever ask a customer with an open checkbook to leave my store. “Take your time. I’m just about ready to open.”
I flipped the sign from closed to open and unlocked the door. Then I filled the cash register and started sorting through the mail. Lillian arrived a few minutes before we were officially due to open, and she looked startled to find Melinda there ahead of her. I just smiled and went back to my mail. There was a load of junk, a few bills and a card without a return address. My hands started to shake as I opened it, wondering if this was going to be another warning from the killer. Instead, to my delight I found a hand-made card welcoming me to Oakmont from Hilda, my customer from a few days before who had expressed interest in joining the card club. She was really very good. I admired the card, then put it on the bulletin board behind the cash register. Finally, Lillian couldn’t contain herself any longer. “Did we change our opening hours? And if we did, why didn’t you tell me?”
“We’re on the same schedule as always,” I said.
Lillian didn’t like my answer, but I wasn’t about to go into any more detail with Melinda standing right here.
“There, that should do it for now,” she said as she put the basket on the checkout counter. “Are you sure you got everything you’d like?” I asked, staring down at the collection of supplies, enough to keep a dozen card makers busy for a month.
Melinda laughed. “Whenever I start a new hobby, I tend to go a little overboard. Ring it up, Jennifer, I‘m so excited about this.”
As I started entering amounts into the register, I said, “Now remember, any time you have questions, I‘m right here.”
Lillian bagged each item as I handed it to her, and by the time we were finished, there was a substantial amount on the register display. As Melinda started to write the check, she tucked some of her luxurious silver hair behind one ear. It was all I could do not to scream.
The earring she wore was an exact duplicate of the one I’d found on the floor of the house where Tina Mast had been murdered.
Chapter 13
That’s quite an unusual earring,” I said, fighting to keep my voice from becoming shrill. “I suppose,” she said. “They were a gift.”
“Do you mind if I see both of them together? I might like to get some, but I can’t tell if I like them or not until I see them balanced.” That was complete and utter balderdash, but I didn’t have a clue how else I could get Melinda to show me that she still had two earrings and hadn’t left one behind at a crime scene.
Melinda looked a little puzzled, but she pulled the hair back behind her other ear as well, and I saw that she did indeed have two that matched perfectly. “What do you think? They’re a little too gaudy for my taste.”
“I don’t know, I like them,” I said
. “Melinda, I hate to ask you this, but do you have any idea where they were purchased? I’d love to have a pair for myself.” Melinda said, “I’d give you these if I didn’t have to wear them again. I can ask, though, if you’re really interested.”
“I am,” I said.
Melinda finished writing the check; then as she handed it to me, she said, “You know, you could ask her yourself the next time you see her. I know she’d be flattered by the request coming from you. Anne bought them for the entire wedding party. Any woman even remotely associated with the wedding received a pair just like them earlier this week. It wouldn’t surprise me if you end up getting a pair yourself.”
I slid the check in the cash drawer, then handed Melinda her bags. It was all I could do to limit myself to, “Thanks again. I’ll have those cards for you in a few days.”
“Wonderful. That will give me a perfect excuse to come by and restock my supplies.”
Before the door could even close, Lillian said, “Okay, Jennifer, what gives? Why the fuss about those gaudy earrings? They are completely not your style.’’’
There was no way I couldn’t tell her, though I would have preferred to discuss it with Bradford first. “Those earrings were identical to the one I found at the house where Tina Mast was murdered.”
Lillian applauded. “Now aren’t you clever? Call your brother and tell him.”
“That was my plan,” I said as I grabbed the phone.
He answered on the second ring. “Bradford, it’s Jennifer.”
“Hey, Jen. I had fun last night.”
“So did I. Listen, I think I may have uncovered another clue.”
He paused, then said, “Have you been digging around again, even after that warning you got last night?”
“If I’m going to be threatened at my own apartment, I might as well earn it,” I said. Lillian’s eyebrows lifted instantly, and I knew I’d have to recount what had happened the night before to her. “Besides, this clue walked straight into my shop.”
“Okay, don’t keep me hanging. What did you find out?”
