Georgie Be Good: Book 2 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery

by Marg McAlister

  “Marry him immediately,” ordered Georgie, “before he realizes he’s met his match.”

  “That’s the plan,” Tammy said complacently. “Just as soon as he thinks it’s his idea.”

  Scott cleared his throat. “I’m feeling somewhat vulnerable here. Is it like this every time you girls get together?”

  They all said at once, “Yes,” and grinned at him.

  “Next order of business,” Georgie said, knowing they were all curious, “the West family problem. By the way, Tammy, we haven’t told you. We’ve formed a new investigation team, and you’re on it.”

  “CBI,” Layla added. “Crystal Ball Investigations. Dontcha love it?”

  Tammy squirmed with enjoyment. “This is turning out to be the best trip ever. What do I do?”

  Layla drained her glass and set it down with a sigh. “You don’t do anything, really, you’re just part of the think tank. Same as Scott and me.”

  “Oh.” Tammy looked faintly disappointed. “I thought I’d get to dress up and seduce people to find out information.”

  “That may come, but not yet,” Georgie assured her. “I mainly need help in putting together clues. And looking at a dozen different scenarios.” As she had for the others, she filled in Tammy on progress so far, and Sarah’s final phone call. “So really,” she ended, “I haven’t got far at all.”

  The others looked at each other and apparently saw the same reaction on each other’s faces, but it was Scott who spoke.

  “I’d say you’ve done very well. You’re down to three, you say. Damian and Cory, the two directors, and Rachel.” He looked around at everyone. “Shall I summarize?”

  At their nods, he went on. “Damian is unlikely because he is one of the owners and stands to lose a lot because this other company came out with the same product early, right?”

  “Right. Not the same product, but almost identical,” Georgie agreed.

  “So he’d hardly pass on company secrets. Cory is also unlikely because he has invested just as much in the company… but he’s jealous of the closer relationship between James and Damian, so that could be a motive.”

  “Except that he loses out financially as well.”

  “But,” said Tammy, “if either of them has a hidden motive—like cooking the books or having a secret debt—then everything changes.”

  Scott nodded. “Which leaves us with Rachel. Neither Sarah nor James thinks it’s her, because they’ve been friends forever and their daughters are friends, and Rachel is upsetting the staff because she’s helping the police with their investigations.”

  “That’s about it,” agreed Georgie. “The trouble is I can’t point the finger at one of them for sure, but I do think it’s one of them. Or maybe it’s just that one of them knows something. They’ll lead me to something else…?”

  Tammy ran a finger around the drying bubbles of milk around the edge of her glass, and said thoughtfully, “We have to look at motive. WHY would someone do this? Money is one reason, but why else? They can hardly spend it, because the police will be looking at their accounts and spending habits. They can’t get a kickback from the rival company, because that will be obvious too. So take away money… and what do you have? Blackmail? Does someone have secret information about one of the others?” She sat back. “They say ‘follow the money’, but I say ‘follow the passion’, too.”

  They all looked at her.

  “This is surreal,” Georgie said. “I’ve got Marilyn Monroe on my investigation team. I thought it couldn’t get any weirder than seeing Rosa’s face in a crystal ball while she poked at me from two hundred miles away, but this comes close.”

  Tammy batted her blue eyes and fluffed her blonde hair. “What can I say? I watch a lot of CSI.”

  Layla yawned. “I say we sleep on it. It’s not as though we can go calling on people and asking questions like the police. They will have done that anyway. We have to wait until they contact Georgie again.” She sent Georgie a questioning look. “You’re sure they will see you again?”

  “Count on it,” Georgie said. She couldn’t say why she felt so certain, but she did.

  Something was going to break, and soon.

  CHAPTER 11

  The vintage trailer meet kicked into high gear on Friday night, when all the 9-to-5 workers finally checked out for the week and rolled into the park to party on throughout the weekend. The rockabilly crowd had booked out sites for months ahead, and kept the place pumping with their dancing and singing. Naturally Tammy brought out her 7-Year-Itch dress for the main gig on Saturday night, and became the darling of the retro set—especially when she found a 79-year-old who was celebrating a birthday and treated him to a breathy and very authentic “Happy Birthday to You”.

  “This makes me wish I lived in the 50s,” Georgie said to Scott, taking a breather for a minute late on Sunday morning and watching the action. “Everybody looks so great. Did you see that woman over there in the vintage Airstream? I swear, she hasn’t added a thing to it since they day they bought it, and it’s pristine. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone of Rosa’s age in a pencil skirt and high heels.”

  Her gaze moved around the campground, and stopped at the striped tent set up by Mags. Her racks were sadly depleted, and now she was mostly taking orders. “Look at that. Mags has almost sold out. I’m glad I got in early.”

  “Yes. So am I.” Scott looked at her, not Mags, and let his eyes travel slowly over her outfit. “You look different. The gypsy look, but… classy.”

  “Exactly what I thought!” Georgie said in delight. She touched the scarlet rose set into her hair, and let her fingers trail over the smaller roses woven in to a single braid that fell over one shoulder. “It took Layla only fifteen minutes to do this. If I had to do it for myself I’d be still going.”

  “She insists she can teach you,” Scott said. “She and Tammy are conspiring with Mags; I heard them.”

  “My makeover team.” Georgie laughed.

  “Georgie…”

  Something about Scott’s voice made her glance at him sharply, and then follow his gaze to the steps of her caravan, visible behind a happy group of people chatting in a circle of camp chairs. He was looking at a teenage girl, who stood looking around nervously, hugging her thin summer cardigan around her. She was glancing from Georgie’s “Back at 1:00 PM” sign to the crowd, her eyes searching.

  She didn’t look well.

  Suddenly Georgie realized who it was.

  “That’s Grace,” she said. “Sarah West’s daughter. I saw her only for a moment the other day when she came home; she was sick.”

  “She still looks sick.” Scott stood up at the same time Georgie did. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “Maybe not; she looks as though she’d spook.” Georgie began to thread her way through the crowd, then stopped and looked back. “Could you wait around outside after we’ve gone in, though, just in case I need you?”

  He waved assent and hung back discreetly.

  Grace saw Georgie moving towards her and straightened up, looking more nervous than ever.

  “Grace.” Georgie smiled pleasantly, conscious of how tightly the girl was strung. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Did you want to see me?”

  Grace jerked her head at the sign. “It’s not one o’clock yet. I can wait.”

  “That’s fine. To tell you the truth, I could do with getting in away from the noise for a bit,” Georgie said, not altogether untruthfully. “How did you find me?”

  “I saw you on TV last night, when they were talking about the rockabilly festival… they showed you with your crystal ball.” She hesitated. “I saw you at our place, too.”

  Georgie indicated that the girl go before her, up the steps to the caravan. “Come inside and sit down. You don’t actually look very well, Grace. Is that stomach flu you had hanging on?”

  “Kind of.” Grace dropped onto the velvet-upholstered bench, eyeing the crystal ball. “Um, how much do you ch
arge?”

  “You’re included as part of your family,” Georgie told her. “No extra charge.”

  She drew her cardigan more tightly around herself and sat there, her fingers clutching the fabric. Georgie busied herself putting on the kettle and lighting the candle, chatting in a soothing voice. “This retro meet has all been a lot of fun, but it’s tiring. I’ll be glad to rest tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m making myself a cup of herbal tea. Would you like one? Or coffee?”

  “Tea, thank you.”

  “Chamomile and spiced apple, or lemon and ginger?”

  “Chamomile, please.” She unbent a little, but still looked awkward. Finally she said: “I like what you’ve done with your hair. Was it hard to do?”

  “My friend did it for me.” Georgie fetched cups and talked about retro hair fashions for a moment while the kettle boiled. While she did, she thought about what might have brought Grace to her. Had she overheard something between her parents?

  When they were both settled at the table, she smiled encouragingly. “So, what brought you to see me?”

  Grace finally summoned up enough courage to meet her gaze. “Mom and Dad, they both said that you… knew things. Not enough to know who stole the information at his work, but you knew a lot of other things about them. About others. So I was thinking, maybe you could help Izzie. My friend.”

  “Izzie?” Of all things, Georgie hadn’t been expecting that. “Your friend who came home with you?”

  Grace nodded mutely, her eyes beseeching.

  “Ah.” Feeling her way, Georgie ventured, “She’s very thin. I was wondering if perhaps she was suffering from anorexia.”

  “No. Well, maybe. I mean, she doesn’t eat much now, but I think it’s because something happened. She won’t tell me, and I think it’s bad.”

  “And you want to help her.”

  “She’s my best friend. We’ve always told each other everything before.” Worry made Grace’s face look pinched. “I’m sorry, I know you should be helping my Dad, not me, but with all this going on nobody seems to care about Izzie, except me.”

  The poor girl, thought Georgie. She can’t talk to her family, and now she’s worried about her best friend.

  With Grace watching every movement warily, she drew her crystal ball a little closer and laid her hands on it. The instant warmth and hum surprised her; it was as though it had been waiting for this girl.

  Inwardly, she tensed. Had she made a mistake? Was it Grace she was supposed to help—or Izzie, perhaps, through Grace?

  Mist formed immediately within the crystal, and Grace’s indrawn breath told her that she saw it too.

  “Think about Izzie,” Georgie said softly, not taking her eyes from the ball. “Think about what concerns you, and what changes you’ve seen. Talk about her.”

  Grace began hesitantly, with a few stops and starts, but gradually the words began to flow. Both girls, it appeared, had loved their dancing. They had lined up for national dance contests, and gone to auditions. Not always together, because Grace liked hip hop and tap, while Izzie was gifted at ballet and contemporary.

  “Then,” Grace finished despondently, “Something happened, and Izzie stopped talking to me, and Dad got suspended from work, and everything’s horrible now.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked away, dragging a tissue out of her sleeve.

  Georgie’s heart felt heavy. This little girl had shed a lot of tears recently.

  In the midst of it all, a face formed in the mist. Georgie held her breath, and then as she recognized it, she didn’t know whether to laugh or feel let down.

  Rosa, her great-grandmother. Well, if nothing else, that told her that Grace’s visit was significant.

  The face became very clear, and Rosa looked directly into her eyes. Then, with a blink, she was gone.

  Nothing but mist again.

  Well, thanks Rosa, thought Georgie, somewhat annoyed. I’ll figure it out for myself.

  Rosa’s appearance appeared to be nothing more than a mentor giving her a thumbs-up for being on the right track.

  “I don’t know what else to tell you,” Grace said, her voice muffled as she dabbed at her eyes.

  Then, as clearly as though someone had projected it on to a wall, a picture of a black silhouette formed in Georgie’s mind. A man. No features, just an outline. Impressions surged into her mind.

  Evil...something to do with…auditions?

  Her mind whirling, Georgie felt the pieces of the puzzle come together. She would be willing to bet that Izzie had fallen into the clutches of one of the many predators waiting in the wings for girls that had dreams of stardom. But what had happened?

  Usually, the perpetrators were men posing as legitimate photographers for hopeful girls needing a model portfolio. At best, the girls escaped unscathed but fleeced of several hundred dollars. At worst, they were drawn into the porn industry. Please, she thought, don’t let it be that bad.

  She sat there, indecisive. How much should she tell the girl sitting opposite her what she had sensed? Should she contact Rachel, Izzie’s mother?

  Georgie thought of the day she’d gone to the Wests’ home, and met Rachel, when she had been sure that the problems at work were not the only reason for the pain she felt radiating from the other woman. Even then, she had made the connection with Izzie.

  You should trust yourself more, Georgie Goode, she told herself.

  So, did Izzie’s mother know? Was she protecting a traumatized child, keeping her secrets?

  She looked up to find Grace watching her keenly.

  “What? You know something,” the girl said.

  Georgie nodded. “Yes, I think I do. The thing is, Grace, it’s not my secret to tell.” She made a decision. “I’ll have to see Izzie’s mother.”

  “Will it help?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes people want help, sometimes they don’t. But it was a good thing you did for your friend, coming here today.” Georgie smiled at her. “The two of you will be close friends again. I promise you.”

  “You know that? Really?” Grace’s face lightened a little.

  “Yes.” Georgie had no hesitation in confirming it. “I know it. Absolutely.”

  She waved the girl off, and beckoned to Scott, waiting patiently in the wings.

  Time for the CBI team to get to work.

  CHAPTER 12

  Georgie was able to catch Tammy’s eye over at her trailer. She beckoned, and then went to rescue Layla from the same couple that had been tire-kicking for the past three days, getting lots of information and encouragement without committing to a thing.

  This time they all crowded into Georgie’s caravan: Scott and Georgie at the table and Layla and Tammy perched on the bed.

  “Developments?” Tammy sat forward eagerly, smoothing her cherry-sprigged white dress over her knees.

  “Developments.” Georgie filled them in quickly, and sat back. “Despite Rachel’s attitude last time we met, I have to go and see her. I’m sure that if I actually see Izzie, I’ll know for sure.”

  “Hmm.” Layla was staring at the floor, thinking. “Yes, I agree, but…”

  Scott beat her to the punch. “But Rosa turned up again. That’s got to tell you something.”

  “I was thinking that maybe it was her way of saying: At last you’ve got the right person. That it wasn’t about James. That I had to get to Izzie through the James-Sarah-Rachel connection.”

  Tammy swung her feet, seemingly hypnotized by the rhythmic motion of her espadrille-clad feet.

  “Tammy?” Georgie prompted.

  She held up a hand, still thinking, and then nodded. “With James, I was saying it might not be about money, remember? It might be about passion. Anger. Revenge. Any of that. And blackmail.”

  Georgie tried to follow her reasoning. “You still think it’s all connected.”

  “Izzie meets some sleazebag at an audition. Izzie gets… compromised.” Tammy’s perfectly etched eyebrows drew downward at the thought.
“The sleazebag asks for money. Izzie doesn’t have any money. Her family doesn’t have any money. So Rachel comes up with a way to get some.”

  It didn’t feel quite right to Georgie, but she had a feeling that Tammy was close. Perhaps it was all linked. And if it was Rachel selling secrets for money… Sarah was going to be devastated.

  She looked around at the others. “What do you think?”

  “Maybe. Maybe.” Scott didn’t sound convinced either. “But I think if you see Rachel, you’ll know. You have to get her over here. Or go to see her.”

  Georgie nodded. “I agree with that much. Everyone..?”

  They all assented, and Georgie sighed. Another uncomfortable meeting coming up.

  She called Grace to get Izzie’s home number, and then phoned Rachel.

  ~~~

  At first, Rachel declined a meeting, but when Georgie said it was about her daughter, not the Wests, she ummed and aahed and then finally agreed to come to Georgie. “I don’t want you here with Izzie,” she said bluntly. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  It was closer to forty minutes, and just as Georgie was wondering if she had changed her mind, she spotted her weaving her way through the swelling afternoon crowds. The Elvis lookalike competition was just getting underway over at the camp kitchen, and Georgie closed the door on the haunting strains of It’s Now or Never.

  Rachel sat in the same position as Grace had an hour earlier, and immediately folded her arms. Her face looked mutinous. “I should start by telling you that I haven’t changed my opinion of gypsy fortune-tellers, no matter what Sarah says. So tell me what this is about.”

  Well, that was upfront enough. Georgie decided to be just as straightforward.

  “I asked you to come here because Grace came to see me. She was worried about Izzie.”

  “Grace?” Rachel’s expression changed from annoyed to wary. “Why?”

  “She says that something happened to Izzie, and she’s not the person she used to be. Essentially, she’s lost her friend, and it’s eating at her.”

  For a moment Rachel just sat like a statue, her eyes fixed on Georgie’s. Then she swallowed and said, “It’s all because of this mess at work. It’s been terrible, with James on forced leave and everyone there wondering if I’m working with the police against them. I’ve been coming home early or crying half the night, and of course that’s had its effect on poor Izzie. She…she hasn’t been eating. Doesn’t want to see anyone—especially Grace.” Her lower lip trembled, but she regained control and lifted her chin, staring Georgie down. “She’ll get over it. We’ll be all right.”