by Jane Tesh
She stopped short. “What are you doing here?”
“Pamela invited me to have a look at some of her paintings.”
“This might not be the best time. We just had an argument.”
“I didn’t think you were speaking to each other at all.”
“Not usually.”
I couldn’t see Larissa’s face very well in the fading light. She shook her head. “All I know is she’s crazy to have the gallery. Maybe she’d do anything to have it.”
“You told me when Wendall called that night he wanted to talk to you in private.”
“Yes.”
“You still don’t have any idea why?”
She sighed. “I’ve been thinking and thinking about it, Madeline, and I don’t know. If he wanted to say he was sorry for everything he’d done to me, he missed his chance a long time ago. I don’t think he’d choose the back door of his gallery to do that, anyway.”
“Would he have offered you a job at the gallery?”
“I would’ve refused it.”
“Then why did you go, Larissa?”
I didn’t think she was going to answer. Then she said, “I never thought he’d come back. I never thought I’d see him again, and I just…I don’t know. Even after all this time and all the hurtful things he did…” She broke off. “I hate myself for being so soft, for even entertaining the idea that he’d come back to Celosia to see me. Is there anyway you can understand that?”
The words of the “Willow Aria” went through my mind. Willow, if he once should be returning, pray tell him I am weeping, too. Larissa was still very much in love with Wendell and interpreted his phone call as an invitation. “Yes,” I said.
“And on top of everything else, Bea was trying to make something out of that one night she got lucky in high school, parading that boy around, trying to make everyone believe Wendall’s the father.”
“She told you this?”
“Why do you think I got so angry? Otherwise, I never would’ve touched her stupid pieces of wood. How dare she make up such a story?”
I found it oddly sad that Larissa still wanted to protect Wendall’s reputation. “According to Ferris, Wendall wasn’t his father.”
“In any event, Bea feels entitled to Wendall’s money. So do I, but feeling entitled gets me nowhere. It all goes to the little fortune hunter.”
“You were friends with Bea in high school, though, weren’t you?”
“She was such a goody two-shoes back then, talking about waiting until she got married to have sex and planning the perfect home and babies. If she spouted that nonsense off to Wendall, no wonder he dumped her.”
Pamela’s front door opened, and she stepped out on the porch. She stared at us in an accusing manner. “Are you still here? Who’s that with you?”
“It’s Madeline,” I said. “I’d like to see your paintings, but if this isn’t a good time, I can come back.”
“No, no, come on in. Larissa was just leaving.”
Without another word, Larissa got into her car and drove off.
Pamela greeted me at the door. She was shaking, her hair standing on end. “I suppose you’re wondering why Larissa stopped by.”
“She said you two were talking about the future of the gallery.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She clasped her hands together to keep them steady. I wondered if the trembling was a reaction to the argument, or if Pamela had other reasons for being so unsettled. “You can talk to Flora, can’t you? Tell her she doesn’t have to close the gallery.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind discussing it with you.”
“After the way this town treated her, I don’t think she’d want to have anything to do with us.”
“She’s not going to stay in Celosia, but she might want to have the gallery as a tribute to Wendall.”
“Well, she might, at that. Come have a look at my paintings. Watch your step.”
I needed to watch my step as Pamela’s house was small and crowded with furniture and knickknacks. Nothing matched anything else: not the chairs, the lamps, the rugs, or the curtains. It looked as if Pamela had bought one of everything that ever existed in the furniture world. The walls were covered with her flower paintings and collages. She quickly forgot her quarrel with Larissa and her concerns about the gallery as she happily explained each one.
“Now these are some of my very first attempts. You can see I didn’t have a good grasp of leaves then. This is a Daisy Series, and over here next to the fireplace is my Aster Series. Of course, I had to have a Celosia Series.”
The paintings of celosias showed the feathery flowers in their bright pink, yellow, red, and orange varieties. “Very realistic.”
“You haven’t seen any of my collages. This is the holiday group over here.”
The collages were globs of cloth and small objects from Christmas ornaments and tinsel to valentines and lace. The Fourth of July collage sported toy flags while toy spiders dangled from the Halloween collage. The one that caught my eye, however, was the Veterans Day collage. Among the red, white, and blue ribbons sparkled several gold buttons.
I pointed to that collage. “This one’s interesting. I like the buttons.”
Pamela straightened the picture. “Those represent the uniforms of our servicemen. It’s my newest collage. I just finished it.”
I took a closer look. The buttons were exactly the same as the one the owner of the gift shop found in the back parking lot, the same button I had in my pocket. I recalled Samantha Terrell saying Pamela gave her leftovers for her scrapbook. “You must have a large storage area to keep all your materials.”
“No, I give lots of things away,” she said. “I don’t like to use the same ribbons or buttons for more than one picture, and my house is too small to keep everything. I usually keep a bag of scraps in my car in case I run into Samantha or someone who can use them.”
“Well, these are unique. The buttons are a clever touch.”
“Thank you. I got them off one of my uncle’s old suits. I didn’t need all of them, though, so I gave the rest to Samantha.”
And dropped one behind the gallery.
“Would you care for something to drink, Madeline?”
I followed her to her kitchen, which was just a crowded as the rest of her house. She cleaned off a spot on the small table, moved a stack of magazines off a chair, and invited me to have a seat. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I don’t often have visitors. Did you find out who broke the gallery window? Not that it matters that much anymore.”
I was almost certain Bea Ricter was the brick-thrower, but I had no proof. “I’m still working on it. Flora Clarke has hired me to solve Wendall’s murder. That may take a little more of my time.”
“Oh, of course.”
“When was the last time you saw Wendall?”
“Wednesday afternoon at the meeting.”
“Did you get to make an appointment with Sasha Gregory?”
She took a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and poured some in a glass. I noticed her hands were steady now. “Yes, of course. She was really very agreeable. I didn’t think she would be. Lemon?”
“No, thanks.” She handed me the glass. “You didn’t come back later?”
“There was no reason to come back.”
“What about the phone call?”
She looked startled. “Phone call?”
“To Wendall.” I bent the truth slightly. “The police found his cell phone. You called him at about seven-thirty Wednesday night.”
“Oh, that.” She gave a little laugh. “I’d forgotten that. Just voicing some concerns about the gallery.” She busied herself getting another glass of tea. “Making one last plea. Turns out it was the last, wasn’t it?”
“What did he say?”
“He said
he was certain I’d be happy with the way Ms. Gregory ran things.” She didn’t sit down. She leaned against the kitchen counter. “Madeline, I have the awfullest suspicion Larissa killed Wendall.”
“Because he divorced her and married a younger woman?”
“You have no idea how angry that made her.”
“I’m sure she was upset, but it’s a big leap to murder. I’m more interested in knowing what you were doing hiding in the office.”
She sputtered a denial for a few moments and then realized I wasn’t buying it. “How did you know?”
I took the matching button out of my pocket. “The woman who owns the gift shop behind the gallery found this in the parking lot when she left at six o’clock, and I happened to overhear some of your argument with Larissa. You were at the gallery around four-thirty, weren’t you? That’s when Larissa said she was there. You were able to get in the back door because it wasn’t locked.”
She pulled out another chair and sat down heavily. “Yes.”
“Like Larissa, you hoped to talk to Wendall, but he wasn’t there. You heard someone come in, so you hid in the office. You saw Larissa smashing Bea’s pictures, but were too afraid to confront her. When you called Wendall to voice your concerns about the gallery, did you tell him this had happened?”
“Yes. He needed to know. He said he’d come over and take care of everything.”
Wendall had then called Larissa and asked her to meet him at the gallery. “Did you see anyone else that evening?”
“No. As soon as Larissa was gone, I got out of there.” She looked at me pleadingly. “Madeline, you don’t think I had anything to do with Wendall’s death, do you?”
Pamela was a tall woman, too, almost as tall as Larissa. But what was her motive? If she killed Wendall, she killed her dream of having an exhibit. Pamela watched me anxiously, as if she expected me to leap up and declare: “You’re under arrest!”
“Pamela,” I said. “If there’s anything else you need to tell me, tell me now.”
“I swear I did not kill Wendall Clarke.”
I took a deep breath and tried to organize my thoughts. The Mystery of the Gold Button had been solved, but there was still the Mystery of the Dark Blue Honda. I’d have to start back at the beginning. “All right. I’m trying to cover all the bases here.”
She gave a nervous little laugh. “I believe that’s why Flora hired you, isn’t it? Isn’t she under suspicion?”
“She doesn’t appear to be tall enough or strong enough to have struck such a fatal blow.”
But at this point, I wasn’t ruling anybody out. I got up to inspect some of the other collages. One in particular had struck my eye. Everything in it was pink, including a distinctive pink jewel serving as the body for a pink butterfly made of pink lace. As I moved slightly from side to side, the light caught the jewel and a white star appeared in its depths. “This is a gorgeous jewel. Is it from a ring, by any chance?”
“Yes, someone gave me a star sapphire ring, and when things didn’t work out, I didn’t want to wear it anymore, but I hated to put it in a drawer, so I had a jeweler take the stone out. That particular collage is called ‘New Beginnings.’ You can tell by the butterflies and all the flowers blooming and the little eggs hatching in the trees.”
“I’m sorry the relationship didn’t last, Pamela. Is he still here in town?”
“No, this was when we both lived in Parkland. As it turned out, he wasn’t the best choice for me.” She fiddled with her tea glass. “He was a terrible choice, actually, but I didn’t see it. Maybe I didn’t want to see it.” Then she said something that took me aback. “Madeline, you’re so lucky to have a good man like Jerry. You don’t know what it’s like to love a swindler. I knew Mike was bad news, but I couldn’t help myself. I knew his reputation, but I thought I could reform him.”
This was exactly what I thought about Jerry. “So Mike was a swindler? A con man? How did you two meet?”
“I may not look like it now, but I used to model. Not professionally, but for some of the larger stores in Parkland. In my day I was quite alluring. Mike came to one of the fashion shows with some of his friends. We hit it off. Then I found out what kind of man he was. He wouldn’t change, so we ended the relationship.”
“He never asked for the ring back?”
“No. I haven’t had any contact with him whatsoever. And I want to keep it that way, Madeline. I don’t know why you’re so interested in my personal life all of a sudden.”
“My apologies. It’s my job to ask questions, and sometimes I forget I’m being too nosy. Let me ask you about Bea. Did you know about her claim that her son was Wendall’s child?”
“I don’t think she had any proof of that.”
“Let’s say she did. Would Wendall have acknowledged the boy?”
“I don’t know. Could Bea have killed him because he wouldn’t do that?”
But why get rid of the father you wanted your son to have? Wendall didn’t have to say, yes, this is my boy. There were millions of dads who never had anything to do with their children. I could only surmise that Bea wanted child support, and Wendall had said, “That’s not going to happen.” Besides, Ferris was a grown man. He had accepted the other man as a father, and didn’t appear to be dependent on his mother. He didn’t need Wendall’s money.
I thanked Pamela for her time and left. So Honor had told the truth when she said Pamela and Big Mike had a fling. But if the ring was that important, wouldn’t he have found Pamela and demanded it back? Why send Honor after the ring? Or maybe Honor wanted the ring and was hoping Jerry would find it for her.
Now you’re thinking like a real con artist, I told myself. Here you are, hoping to reform your husband, and his lifestyle is rubbing off on you. One thing was certain. Honor was trying her best to involve Jerry in something illegal, and I was not going to let that happen. Not for him and not for me.
Chapter Sixteen
I called to let Jerry know I was stopping by my office to check the mail before picking him up. I had a rude surprise when I unlocked my door. The side window was smashed and a chunk of brick lay on the carpet surrounded by shards of glass. A quick look around assured me this was the only damage, and nothing had been stolen. I went outside and around to the window, but there were no footprints or any clues. Some random act of vandalism, or a warning to back off the case?
I gave Jerry another call to let him know what had happened. Then I called the police. I thought they’d send an officer, but Chief Brenner came over.
He surveyed the scene. “Well, someone doesn’t want you involved in Clarke’s murder investigation. Anything missing?”
“No.”
“Leave everything right there. I’ll have a word with the neighbors.”
I sat down at my desk and glared at the brick, wishing it could tell me who was running around town smashing windows. Then I got up for a better look. I’d seen the bricks in Bea’s yard. This one was different. Bea’s bricks were old red bricks with worn edges. The one on my carpet was new and pink, and its edges were sharp.
Chief Brenner came in as I bent over the brick, frowning. “So it won’t talk, eh?”
I straightened. “I thought this might have come from Bea’s yard, but it’s not the same color.”
He used his pen to push the brick over and examined it from all sides. “We’ll dust it and see. Were you here when this happened?”
“No, I stopped by to check my mail.”
“The folks next door didn’t see or hear anything unusual. Everyone else in the building must have gone home at five, but I’ll talk to them.”
“Thanks for coming over.”
He took out his camera and snapped pictures of the damage. “You caught me just in time. I was heading over to Parkland’s crime lab to see if they had anything for me. Do you have anything?”
I didn�
�t want to tell him Jerry and I had spent the afternoon breaking and entering. “I’ve talked with Larissa and Pamela. Were you aware Bea thought Wendall was the father of her child?”
“How likely is that?”
“Extremely unlikely. Even her son doesn’t believe it.”
“All right, I’ll follow that up, but we’re working on this case from a different angle. Seems one of Wendall’s business competitors made some threats last month. We’re looking into that.”
I thought with a town full of angry artists, this line of inquiry was extremely unlikely, too. “Between the two of us, we ought to come up with something.”
He motioned to the broken glass. “I’m not so sure you should be on this case, Madeline. The next brick might be aimed at your head. Are you on your way home? Where’s Jerry?”
“I’m picking him up at the theater.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t go anywhere alone until this is settled.”
It was going to take more than a brick through my window to keep me from solving this case.
***
When I arrived at the theater, the cast was romping through “Kansas City.” They looked like they were having fun, except for Bea, who stood scowling, arms folded, as if the cowboys and ranchers had purposely torn up her tater patch with their wild dancing. It was difficult to imagine this angry little woman creating such amazing jewelry. It was not difficult to imagine her running around town heaving bricks at windows.
When the song ended, I leaned over the edge of the orchestra pit. “Is Aunt Eller supposed to be annoyed by all the frivolity?”
“This Aunt Eller is annoyed by everything. Are you okay? Is the office a mess?”
“I’m fine, and it was only one broken window. But the brick was an alien brick. Tell you about it later.”
Evan asked for one more round of the dance number. I sat down to watch. Jerry played so well, it was a shame theater paid about the same as art, which was practically nothing. If the arts were as revered as sports, we’d have no trouble making a living. I’d thought about asking Chief Brenner if he needed a reformed con man on the force to help catch other con men, the way some police departments hired former art forgers to expose fake paintings. But Celosia was too small, and there weren’t any other con artists, except Jerry’s dubious friends. Maybe he’d have some luck with his job interviews.
