by Peggy Webb
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. I have something better!” Aunt Grace made a grand gesture toward me as if I’m royalty. “My friend Jo Jo Marsh wants to do a magazine spread on the famous actress, and I just knew Susie wouldn’t want to miss this opportunity. Ring her up and tell her that her dear friend Grace Delaney is here with a New York reporter.”
Aunt Grace’s lies worked their magic and we were soon inside an apartment that reminded me of a movie set from the Jazz Age. Everything in here was old Hollywood glamour.
The actress, herself, was a revelation, cute and fresh-faced, her freckles showing through minimum makeup, her reddish blond hair cut in a bob that emphasized high cheekbones and a bow-shaped mouth. She was wearing wide legged palazzo pants and a white linen shirt that draped loosely over her slender frame, and she was far younger than I’d expected—probably somewhere in her late thirties.
She reminded me of my sister, Lucy. Maybe it was because she seemed so much at ease in her own skin, something I could never figure out. Whatever the reason, I folded my tall self into a low overstuffed chair and sank against the blue velvet cushions, relaxed in a way I hadn’t expected.
Susie bought my cover story, hook line and sinker, and she was willing to do the interview even after I explained that I’m just an aspiring journalist looking for the right story to land me in the big time.
“Fine. Great. I’ll take what I can get.”
I’d given enough interviews to know the right questions to ask. I moved quickly through the basics, jotting notes in a manner that apparently satisfied Susie.
Contrary to gossip, Susie had been in a few movies. She’d also done some television and a few stage plays, and she was hoping for a chance to direct. As I wrote down her life story, I wondered what else the gossips had gotten wrong about Susie.
When we wrapped up the interview, Grace jumped into the conversation. “Did you hear about poor Lolly?”
“That heifer! “ Susie said. “If she weren’t dead, I’d kill her myself.”
“My stars and garters! Why?”
“Charlie was getting ready to divorce her and we had such big plans. Now he has to play the part of the grieving widower. It’s so unfair. I could just scream.” Susie turned to me. “Don’t you hate it when that happens? Something you care about more than anything in the world is snatched from you, just like that?”
She snapped her fingers and I was suddenly thrust back to the day my parents left my sister’s wedding reception early to take unknown guests out on their boat. Then they vanished. Simply disappeared without a trace.
“Yes,” I told Susie. “It’s almost unbearable.”
“See?” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I knew you’d understand.” How did she know? What did she see? Maggie Wild behind the disguise? A woman on the run from so much it’s a wonder I ever sleep a wink at night? “Are you going to be in town long?”
“A while.”
“Then we must have lunch sometime. I’m fairly new here, myself, and I’ve spent so much time shoring up Charlie’s self-esteem I haven’t made any friends close to my own age.”
I felt lower than a toad. Here I was grilling her under false pretenses, building up her hopes that she was finally going to get the kind of publicity she needed to advance her career. I found myself saying, “I’d like that,” and then I wanted to cut out my tongue. I’d just made being Jo Jo Marsh far more complicated.
I couldn’t afford to make a new friend, especially not one who thrives on being in the limelight—the very same limelight I was trying to avoid.
Still, I liked her, and I could almost guarantee she didn’t kill Lolly. Apparently, Aunt Grace felt the same way.
“Thank you so much for letting us just barge in, Susie. I’ll make it up to you. Stop by the shop and I’ll concoct something that will attract success. On the house.”
Susie lit up as if Aunt Grace had promised her the moon. “Really? I’ll stop by tomorrow.” She leaned in to give both of us a quick hug. “So will I see you at the shop, Jo Jo?”
“Yes.”
Who knew where I’d be? But if I was in the Charmed Cat I intended to take Susie to the back room for a cup of tea and tell her she has too much on the ball to waste her time chasing after a married man. And how much older is he, anyway? Lolly had to be nearly sixty. Good grief. Maybe I’m not the one to give advice since I haven’t done so well in the boyfriend department, but at least I know better than to go chasing after a man who is already taken, especially one old enough to be my father.
*
We were almost back at the Charmed Cat when I noticed a man who looked alarmingly like Nick Coselli slide into the shop next door. The name over the doorway said, The Stitch Witch.
“Aunt Grace, what’s in that shop?”
“That’s where I buy my yarn. Everybody in the knitting club does.”
Good grief? What would Nick Coselli be doing in a yarn shop?
“That’s it? They only sell yarn?”
“Well, no. They read cards and do séances, too. You can get your yarn and your fortune told at the same time.”
Okay, so I felt a little better. Maybe that wasn’t Nick. Maybe it was just a man desperate enough to rely on a crystal ball to tell his future.
I’m licensed to carry and hardly ever go anywhere without a gun, but what would I do if I barged into the shop and discovered Nick? Pull out my gun and start shooting?
I hurried inside the Charmed Cat and stationed myself at the window while Aunt Grace delivered the news of our sleuthing attempt.
“We didn’t even get to first base, Pearl.”
“That’s okay, Grace. I hit a home run!” She proceeded to tell us that the cops had found the murder weapon and that the bullets matched the one they found in the victim as well as the one buried in the magnolia tree in their back yard. “Our plan worked. And that’s not all. There was evidence all over Ann Leveau’s house that she never got over losing Charles Beaufort to Lolly. “
“What kind of evidence?”
“Pictures of the two of them together, albums filled with newspaper clippings of every criminal case he’s won since he started practicing law.”
“My stars and garters. That was forty years ago!”
“Exactly. There was one clipping dating as far back as when he opened his practice.”
“Oh, I remember that one well, Pearl. Son of famous philanthropist and Louisiana oil magnate opens law office in New Orleans. That gives Ann motive out the wazoo.”
“The police took her in for questioning. Everybody who came into the shop was talking about it. They’ll have this case wrapped up before morning, and we’re off scot-free.”
It couldn’t come soon enough for me. I came to New Orleans to get away from murder, and I here I was, up to my newly cropped hair in crime.
“What about that gun, Aunt Pearl? Even if Ann is a killer, she’s going to deny owning the murder weapon.”
“Ann will tell so many lies, they won’t believe her. And they’ll never trace that gun back to me.”
I didn’t even want to know how she was in possession of an untraceable weapon, let alone why. I just wanted that Nick Coselli look-alike to come out the The Stitch Witch so I could know whether to stay in New Orleans or run.
Chapter 9
In which the jig is almost up
It turned out the man in the shop next door was not my ex-fiancé. But with all the day’s excitement and the stress of not getting caught, I was a glad to see the day come to an end.
The aunts insisted I go back to their house and have supper with them. Though I was grateful for the company as well as the meal, I figured that if I kept eating fried chicken and gravy and biscuits at the Delaney table I wouldn’t need cropped hair and John Lennon glasses. I’d be as big as the house and nobody would recognize me.
Still, they kept me in stitches all evening with tales of the gambling buddies they met on a cruise—Ruby Nell Valentine and her BFF,
Fayrene Johnson from Mooreville, Mississippi. The pair recently brought their family and a crazy dog named Elvis to New Orleans to see an exhibit of the Treasure of Tulum.
Murder had been afoot then, too. I figured if I kept hanging out with Aunt Grace and Aunt Pearl, I could forget about keeping a low profile. I was likely to end up at the bottom of the river wearing concrete shoes. Still, at least I’d have relatives who would know about it and plan the funeral.
It was late by the time I got back to my apartment at the Charmed Cat. A quick check showed no hunk of male pulchritude lurking in the bathroom or the other guest bedroom, which, by the way, was decidedly male and smelled of Irish Spring soap.
“Good. No expensive after shave.” I don’t know why I said it aloud nor why the thought of Josh Holt using nothing but soap gave me such satisfaction. For that matter, I couldn’t even guess why I was in his bedroom in the first place. Snooping is not my style. Maybe running from the Mafia was changing my whole personality.
I hot-footed it out of there and put on some pajamas, modest this time. No more skimpy shorts and tank tops for me, even when my problematic roommate wasn’t around. I didn’t intend to get caught half naked again, packing heat or otherwise.
I made myself a cup of tea then curled onto the sofa with my favorite hand gun and my laptop to do a search on Pink Toenails. I know, I know. It was awful that I couldn’t even sit on the sofa without a gun…and that I still had to refer to the girl in the garbage bag that way. But what else would I call her? I hadn’t a clue of her identity or anything else about her, including her age and what she looked like.
This time I broadened the search for the dead girl beyond New Jersey. There were two girls missing from the Big Apple, one a former senator’s daughter, twenty-year old Morgan Levine, dark hair, preppy clothes, pretty in a high society kind of way. She didn’t look the type to paint her nails hot pink or to appeal to Rocco Coselli.
But she might have appealed to Nick. Maybe he’d killed her and his brother had been getting rid of the body.
The other girl, Lucinda Bell, was twenty-five, an actress with a few off-Broadway credits, five-seven, lots of curly blond hair, wide smile, bright red lipstick. Definitely Rocco’s type. Plus, she probably had nail polish in every crazy color on her dressing table.
I got so involved in the fantasy lives of the two missing girls I jumped sky high when my cell phone rang. It was my sister.
“Lucy, you scared me to death. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that you never called me back! Where in the world are you?”
Lucy was miffed. And with good reason. We’d always told each other everything, and here I was keeping more secrets than the FBI.
“I’m sorry. I still can’t tell you anything except that I’m safe.”
“Being scared of a phone call doesn’t sound safe to me. Steve and I are worried sick.”
“Don’t be. Please.” I decided to try to soften her up by using Dad’s pet name for her. “Listen, Lulu, if it will make you feel better, I’m off the road and settled into a really secure apartment.”
“Oh? Like that secure apartment in New Jersey you left in such a hurry?”
So much for sentimental nicknames. “Listen, if it will make you feel better, I’m living with a certified, gun-toting private eye.” Did he carry a gun? I’d have to snoop in his bedroom again and find out.
“Living with?”
“No! Sharing an apartment.”
“I’m not going to mention that you carry more guns than any law I ever saw, and that you’re the best shot in the world. And I’m not even going to ask how you ended up living with another man a few days after ditching the last one.”
“Your discretion is mind-boggling, Lucy.”
My sister gave a big sigh. Or maybe she was crying and sniffing up tears. With Lucy it was hard to tell.
“I just hope you’re safe and that you’ll come back to Point Clear soon. And that we find Mom and Dad in Cozumel.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me this first thing?”
“You know me. When something is hard, I beat around the bush.”
“Have they been found or not?”
“I don’t know. They’ve been sighted. Steve and I are flying down tomorrow to check it out. Maggie…I’m sorry you can’t go with us.”
“Me, too, Lulu. I love you and I miss you.”
“Ditto.” There was no mistaking her snuffle this time. “I know you can’t come. The press will be everywhere. But I’ll let you know as soon as we find out anything. Okay?”
“Okay.”
My sister’s news both gave me hope and made me mad. I could cheerfully have lined the whole Coselli family up and slapped every last one of them silly for making me miss this opportunity to discover if my parents were dead or alive.
The aunts’ gigantic grandfather clock chimed an unmerciful hour, and I stalked off to the bathroom for my evening beauty routine. This consisted of a quick face wash with Dove soap, a thorough tooth-brushing and a masterful job with dental floss.
I was mid-floss when I heard the click of the bathroom lock. I had the gun out of my holster and pointed at the intruder before the door opened.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“Good grief.” It was Josh. I holstered the gun, but there was nothing I could do about my temper. Or the piece of floss hanging out of my mouth. I jerked it free. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a crack-shot carrying a gun?”
“The door was unlocked, it’s way past your bedtime and I didn’t hear you flossing.”
I thought about shooting him on general principles. “Cute, Holt.”
“Thank you, Wild.” I felt electrocuted, and I guess the shock showed. “Your secret is safe with me, Maggie.”
I never imagined the calming effect of a man’s kind voice and a tender touch until Josh put his hands on my shoulders and guided me out of the bathroom . I sank onto the sofa cushions, and truth to tell, I was grateful I didn’t have to continue this Jo Jo Marsh charade with him.
“The aunts told you?”
“No. They only told me the same thing you did, that you’re their great niece. It took lots of digging to discover the rest.”
“It’s not easy to trace me through them. The aunts pretty much got chopped off the family tree.”
“A pity. Pearl and Grace are two of the most wonderful women I know. I’d be a street bum except for them.”
“How much do you know?”
“Enough to stay away from the business end of your gun.” If his grin was an attempt to lighten my mood, it worked. I didn’t know his middle name, but I suspected it was Charming. “I don’t know why you ended up in New Orleans using a fake name, but I do know about Clint and Alice Ann Wild. I’m sorry.”
He was genuine. And it was my undoing. I told him everything—the recent sighting of my parents, my witness to Rocco’s skullduggery and Nick’s threats.
“You can count on me for anything,” he said. “Just ask.”
I looked for ulterior motive and found none. Or maybe I just didn’t want to.
“Why?”
“Call it gratitude to Pearl and Grace. Call it an old fashioned code of chivalry.”
“I thought chivalry was dead.”
“Not quite.” He studied me and read me like a book. I was going to have to be dragged kicking and screaming into accepting his offer. “I know you’re independent, Maggie.”
“Right.”
“And fully capable of defending yourself with a gun.”
“Exactly.”
“I have a wide network of people who can help you. So what’s the problem?”
“You don’t have a white horse.”
His smile was infectious. “Off to bed with you. I’ll see you here at six o’clock sharp.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter 10
In which a horse of a different color arrives
I
was up at the crack of dawn, never knowing this would be my day to fall in love at first sight.
When Josh strolled into the great room at six o’clock, I was waiting for him. He took one look at my jeans and loose tee shirt, nodded his approval and off we went in his truck. Despite its rattletrap exterior, the truck ran as smoothly as one of the NASCAR racer cars Dad’s friends used to bring to the Wild ranch.
I didn’t ask where Josh was taking me and he didn’t volunteer. Last night we’d reached an unspoken agreement to trust each other, and it felt good. When I got back home, I’d have to thank Aunt Grace.
Knowing she was an early bird, too, I’d gone downstairs this morning to have tea with her and discuss Josh’s cryptic invitation.
“You have to go with him, dear.”
“Why? Did Houdini tell you that?” Houdini had slunk up and wound himself around Aunt Grace’s ankles, and I eyed him with suspicion.
“No, he’s hardly ever offers advice in matters of the heart.”
“This is hardly a matter of the heart.”
“Still and all, Josh is such a rolling stone. It’s unusual for him to spend the day with anyone. Go, Maggie. Getting away will be good for both of you.”
When we left the city behind and turned onto a back road that led through moss draped live oaks and real fences with barbed wire strung along a line of massive posts, I found myself relaxing for the first time since I’d escaped to New Orleans. I’m a country girl, through and through, more at home with open pastures than city streets, in love with wide open spaces rather than malls.
Josh turned onto a gravel road that wound through trees to a sign that read D and B Ranch.
“This is it.“ He parked in front of a modest cottage with a wraparound front porch. “I hope you still like to ride horses. Dave and Betty said you could have your pick. And we’ll have the riding trails all to ourselves.”
I almost cried. A mere thank you didn’t seem adequate for a day away from it all, a day where I might remember who I once was and recapture the soaring sense of freedom I once knew.
