Bad Reputation, A

by Jane Tesh

  “In the ceiling, listening through the air conditioner vent?”

  “That’s where you would be, but I seriously doubt she could climb up into the vent. Let’s have a look in the gallery.”

  ***

  The police had put a lock on the gallery’s back door, but Jerry was able to undo it. The minute we walked in, I knew what I’d overlooked. “Jerry, I forgot about the children’s room.”

  “There’s a children’s room?”

  “Yes, Bea asked Wendall about it, and he assured her there was a special room in the back for the kids.”

  We walked down a short hallway to a small room complete with work tables and child-sized chairs and easels. There was also a large empty closet for supplies. “This is it. This is where she could’ve been hiding. She would’ve known Larissa destroyed her artwork. She would’ve been furious with her, maybe even angry enough to frame Larissa for murder.”

  “How did Bea know Wendall was coming to the gallery that night?” Jerry asked.

  “Pamela was here, too. She saw Larissa smash Bea’s pictures and called Wendall to tell him. Bea could’ve overheard her.”

  “Pamela, Larissa, Bea—the whole town was here.” Jerry shut the closet door. “Did you ever hear Bea confront Wendall about buying the building? I mean, she had to know he was the other buyer. Everyone knew.”

  I thought of all the times I’d heard Bea talking with Wendall and recalled there had been an altercation at his reception. “At the reception she said, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’ At the time, I assumed she was referring to his marriage to Flora. And Wendall said, ‘No hard feelings.’”

  “No hard feelings, I got your building, makes sense.”

  “Bea said something about how Wendall was going to be sorry. I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but she may have decided the only way to get the building was to get him out of the way.”

  “Didn’t she want her work in the gallery?”

  “I think she wanted the building more. After all, if she had the building, she could display her artwork along with the jewelry.”

  “So, she’s mad at Wendall for stealing away her building, and she’s mad at Larissa for ripping up her pictures, so she kills Wendall and hopes to pin the murder on Larissa because everyone in town knows how much Larissa hates Wendall. Pretty slick. But exactly how did she do it?”

  “With any luck, that’s what I’m going to find out tonight.”

  ***

  “The Farmer and the Cowman” song included just about the entire cast. Everyone assembled on stage to go through the song before Evan blocked the scene. I sat in the orchestra pit with Jerry and two musicians who had decided to play for the rehearsal. Technically, the other members of the orchestra didn’t have to be there until a week or two before the show opened, but sometimes they liked to get a head start. I recognized the drummer from The Music Man, and the clarinet player was a woman from the garden club.

  Evan called for attention. “I’d like everyone to sing the song twice, and then I’ll show you your places. We’ll work the dance later.”

  While the actors were singing, I looked for Bea. I didn’t have the best angle from the pit, so I stood up in one corner. There she was, singing along as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Maybe she didn’t. After the singing and the blocking, Evan told everyone to take a short break while he worked with the dancers. Bea headed for the side door.

  “Be right back,” I told Jerry and hurried out of the pit.

  I almost missed her. Bea had already gotten into her Honda and zoomed out of the theater parking lot. I hopped into the Mazda and followed her. To my surprise, she headed toward the gallery. She parked in the back parking lot. I went around the block and parked on the street. Then I cautiously made my way to the gallery’s back door. It was open. I went inside and slipped into the children’s room. I could hear Bea in the main gallery. She was talking on her cell phone.

  “I’m at the gallery. Yes, I’ll meet you here. Around back. It’s unlocked.”

  I stepped behind the door as she came down the hall. I could see her waiting by the door. She turned off her phone and took something out of her purse. Not a piece of wood, but another brick.

  Someone was going to get a nasty surprise.

  I looked around the room for a weapon. One of the little easels was my best choice. I folded it and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. From the back windows I could see Larissa coming up to the back door. I knew Bea planned to barrel out and hit her with the brick. Before Larissa had her hand on the door, I stepped out into the hall behind Bea, swung the easel like a baseball bat, and clipped her in the knees. She yowled and fell. The brick landed with a clunk. At the same time, Larissa opened the door and jumped back, startled.

  “Bea! What happened? What’s going on?”

  Bea started up, but I pointed the easel like a sword. “Stay right there.”

  Larissa took in the scene, confused. “Madeline what is all this? Bea told me to come. She said she knew who had killed Wendall.”

  “She knows who killed Wendall because she did, and she planned to do the same to you.”

  Bea growled and attempted to get up. “You’re crazy!”

  I poked her in the chest with the easel to keep her on the floor. “Then explain the brick.”

  She tried to push the easel aside. “What do you want?”

  “I think it’s more a case of what you want. Let’s start with Building 2604.”

  “What do you know about that?”

  “I know you wanted it. I know you put in an offer, and Wendall Clarke beat you to it. I know you were here Wednesday night when Larissa destroyed your pictures. You overheard Pamela call Wendall, so all you had to do was wait for him here. You took him by surprise, and when he was down, you hit him on the head.”

  Larissa stared at her. “My God, Bea! I never knew you hated Wendall so much.”

  Bea transferred her angry glare to Larissa. “Not as much as I hated you. How dare you destroy my pictures? You know nothing about art, nothing!”

  Oh, there was so much more to it than that, I thought, as Larissa sputtered for a reply. “Larissa,” I said, “Bea didn’t hate Wendall. She loved him, didn’t you, Bea? Wasn’t he your first real love in high school? When you married someone else and then found out you were pregnant, you really hoped it was Wendall’s child, didn’t you? That’s what you really wanted.”

  Bea could hardly contain herself. “Ferris is his son!”

  “As much as you want that to be true, I don’t think it is. And when Wendall refused to acknowledge Ferris and then bought the building out from under you, you felt doubly betrayed.”

  Her voice shook with emotion. “Well, of course I did!”

  Larissa looked as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Wendall betrayed me, too, Bea, but I never would’ve killed him. You’re insane.”

  “Oh, listen to you, Miss High and Mighty Captain of the soccer team! I was just as good as you were!”

  I’d heard enough of this. “No more high school! Larissa, do me a favor and call the police.”

  ***

  I expected Bea to put up a fight, but she stayed seated on the floor, scowling, until Chief Brenner and another officer arrived. I told the chief what I’d found out. Bea didn’t say anything until the officer hauled her up. Then she said, “I want my lawyer.”

  Larissa watched as Bea was escorted out and into a squad car. “She was going to kill me. That’s why she said to come alone.”

  “I think she planned to knock you over, just like she did Wendall, hit you with the brick, and then hurry back to the theater. The whole cast is there tonight. It would be easy to slip back in and have everyone think she was there the whole time.”

  For a long moment, Larissa said nothing. Her mouth trembled as if she were holding back her emo
tions. “Thank you, Madeline.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “My apologies if I said anything ugly about you or your husband. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you.”

  “Well,” I said, “maybe you can be a little less critical about other peoples’ artwork in the future.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  When I returned to the orchestra pit, Jerry and the others were playing “The Farmer and the Cowman” for the dancers. He lifted his eyebrows inquiringly, and I gave him an okay sign. He had to wait until the end of the number to ask what had happened.

  I leaned over the edge of the orchestra pit to give him the short version. “Bea tried to kill Larissa, but I struck first. Tell you all about it when we get home.”

  Jerry couldn’t wait until we got home. As soon as rehearsal was over and we were in the car, he wanted to hear the whole story.

  When I’d finished, he said, “So the main problem Bea had with Larissa was Larissa ripping up her art.”

  “I think that’s what sent Bea over the edge. I have to say I sympathize. I know how I’d feel if someone ripped up Blue Moon Garden.”

  “Yeah, but you wouldn’t take revenge in such a roundabout way, would you? Why didn’t Bea go after Larissa first?”

  “She was still angry with Wendall for stealing her building and for not being the father of Ferris. She saw a way to get rid of both of them, and when setting Larissa up for Wendall’s murder didn’t work, she went to plan B.”

  “But all that great jewelry. If it was selling well, she could soon afford any building she wanted.”

  “But she wanted building 2064. Nothing else was going to suit her.”

  As I drove up the drive, our house looked inviting in the deep October twilight, porch lights gleaming. A breeze sent stray leaves dancing across the yard. Far off in the woods, owls hooted, practicing for Halloween, and two little bats fluttered erratically in the purple sky.

  Jerry pointed to them. “Look. Uncle Val’s pets.”

  “As long as they stay up there. The attic’s off limits.” Now’s the time, I told myself. “Let’s sit outside for a while.”

  We went up on the porch, and Jerry pulled his rocking chair over so he could sit close. “I was thinking. You know, we need another car, and Bea’s not going to be using that blue Honda—”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or not. “Jerry.”

  “She can’t drive it if she’s in jail, and her son’s got his VW. Why should the Honda sit in the driveway? I can keep it in good running order until she gets out in…what…never?”

  “I think we’d have to ask Ferris about that.”

  “And what about all that jewelry? I know how to get into the house.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I’m kidding. I have a real job now.”

  “For which I am grateful.” We rocked for a few moments until I thought of something. “There are a couple of things still up in the air about this case.”

  “Such as?”

  “It really bugs me that Honor got to keep a pink sapphire that she does not deserve.”

  Jerry laughed. “Oh, that.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a fake. I can’t wait till she tries to pawn it.”

  “A fake? How do you know?”

  “Big Mike told me. She doesn’t get a reward for all that bad behavior.”

  “Well, good.”

  “What’s the other thing?”

  I leaned forward so I could look him straight in the eye. “The night of Honor’s séance, I know you were Aunt Gloria. How did you do it?”

  He had on his neutral face. “A good con man never reveals his secrets.”

  “But you aren’t a con man, anymore.”

  “I’m still a man of mystery.”

  I sat back. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  He looked pleased with himself. “Nope. Was Honor really scared?”

  “Yes. You win. And here’s your prize. You and I have something very important we need to do.”

  “Which is?”

  “We need to decide on a name for our baby.”

  This took him so completely by surprise he just looked at me as if trying to process what I’d said. When it finally sunk in, he stammered, “But you’re not—you told me you weren’t—are you pregnant or not?”

  “I’m not,” I said. “But I could be.”

  He grabbed me and gave me a long, satisfying kiss. Then he and I spent the rest of the evening trying to make it happen.

  ***

  Pamela called the next morning. She was all aflutter, having heard the news of Bea’s arrest.

  “I simply could not believe it! I mean, I couldn’t even believe she broke the gallery window, much less murdered Wendall! She must be crazier than anyone thought. And to think she was hiding in the gallery at the same time I was there! I might have been next!”

  I really didn’t think Pamela had ever been on Bea’s hit list, but I didn’t say so. “I hope that’s the last of the gallery’s problems.”

  “Oh, it is! You haven’t heard the news. Flora Clarke has graciously offered to sell the gallery to the Art Guild. That’s the main reason I called. We really want it to work. Would you consider helping us?”

  “I’ll do what I can.” My doorbell rang. “Someone’s at the door, Pamela. I’ll call you back.”

  I was surprised to find Flora Clarke at the door.

  “I wanted to come thank you in person, Madeline.”

  She had on her black suit, her makeup perfect but subdued. She could easily play The Widow Game, I thought, if that’s what she plans to do. “You’re welcome. So you’re off to Florida?”

  “Yes. There’s no need for me to stay around here anymore.”

  “I hear you plan to sell the gallery to the Art Guild.”

  “I’ll give them a good deal. It seems the right thing to do.”

  “How about doing another right thing and stop scamming people?”

  “I don’t know.” Her hand went up to tug her curl, but this time she caught herself. “It’s hard to give up a life you’ve always known. But I don’t think I’ll ever find another man like Wendall. I really loved him. You have to believe me.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I appreciate that.” She smiled a slight smile. “I’ll try to reform.”

  I believed she had loved Wendall. I wasn’t sure I believed she was going to change. Maybe if Wendall hadn’t been killed, he could’ve had a positive influence on her. Then again, if she was also in love with flirting and scheming, he might’ve been just another conquest.

  Or maybe, like so many deluded beauty queens, she thought her self-worth was determined by her looks, that her only talent was being beautiful, and she’d better make the most of it while she could. I wished I could’ve had this conversation with her. I’d had it with myself many times. I’d conned people, too. With my fake hair and my fake smile, I’d tried my best to convince judges I was the prettiest, because that’s all that mattered.

  But I wasn’t just a pretty face in an overly sequined gown. That wasn’t me.

  I’d caught Wendall Clarke’s murderer. And that mattered a hell of lot more.

  Jerry came to the door as Flora drove away. “Baby Flo’s left all alone, huh?”

  “But not freezing to death. She’s heading to Palm Beach.”

  “I have an idea she’ll be okay.” He patted my stomach. “So what do you think? Did it take? Do we have a little Hortensia or a little Jackson growing in there?”

  I put my hand over his. “Don’t get too excited yet. I have to see the doctor.”

  “Well, sit down and put your feet up just in case.”

  We sat down on the sofa. Jerry put his arm around me, picked up the re
mote, and clicked on the CD player. Once again the glorious soprano voice of The Ballad of Baby Doe filled the room.

  “Last aria,” Jerry said. “‘Always through the changing.’ That’s us, Mac.”

  Always through the changing, I thought. I’ve untangled another knot of Celosia’s never-ending relationships. Jerry may not be completely reformed, but he’s severed another tie to his disreputable past and has a new career. Maybe it’s time. Maybe I’m really ready to start a family.

  I was going to let go and let it happen.

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