A dozen more flashes went off. Becki pictured the resulting photo and accompanying caption in her mind.
Weather Network’s Gina Monroe unveils her wedding gown at a private shower in Black Currant Bay.
Would Gina really give permission to the local paper to print such a shot? Becki worried it would leak to the national papers. To the Internet. Mostly she worried the groom would see the bride’s dress before their wedding day. Very, very bad luck. Everyone knew that.
Chapter 8
“A fondue pot! How retro! I love it.” Gina didn’t love it, but she would never let this elderly lady know that. What was her name? Lottie. Short for Charlotte, no doubt.
Lottie smiled back. Her medium length white hair was speckled with grey, and hung in unruly waves. She was dressed in all maroon Tabi. And therefore her best clothes. Gina had to smile. She looked down and flicked a piece of lint off her own designer shift dress in dazzling shades of green and blue.
“I’m so glad you like it,” Lottie bubbled. “Mason’s had it on sale, and I was so lucky to get it at that price.”
Someone snorted.
“What?” said Lottie. “Oh. I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that?” She looked like a stricken Miss Marple.
“It’s smart to get things on sale,” Becki said kindly. “Especially when giving a gift. You can buy so much more.”
Lottie perked up. “That’s what I thought. I was going to ask Louisa to go in with me, but then she—oh.” Lottie fell silent, as did the room.
Talk about the Elephant in the room. You just couldn’t ignore it, so Gina nodded sympathetically. “I’m so sorry. Did you know her well?”
Lottie nodded. She seemed to be holding back tears. “She was my best friend.”
People in the room shuffled uncomfortably. Voices dropped to murmurs.
Gina sighed. She patted Lottie’s shoulder, not knowing how much to say. The police hadn’t let slip that Louisa’s death was anything other than an accident. Most people just thought she had lost her footing and fallen down the stairs.
Still, it certainly put a damper on this shower that the poor lady was supposed to have co-hosted.
“More coffee?” Becki stood before her with the pot in her hand, ready to refill.
Gina smiled her thanks. Typical of Becki to move to action when there was an awkward moment.
As Becki moved over to fill Lottie’s cup, Gina sat back to watch the others.
It was natural to be sad when a neighbour died. All these women seemed to be covering up their feelings of discomfort by being overly cheerful. Yet Gina noticed one thing.
Lottie seemed to be the only person who seemed truly distraught that Louisa had died.
When Becki moved on, Lottie turned to her.
“I’m so glad Becki went ahead with this,” Lottie said in a low voice. “Really, I think Louisa would have wanted it.” She nodded vigorously.
Why do people always say that? Who knows what the dead would have wanted? Probably they had other, more important things on their minds now…
“I offered to move the shower to my place, but it really is too tiny.”
Gina smiled and inclined her head.
Poor Becki. She had planned this shower for weeks, inviting all her Black Currant friends. Mary, Pat, Lottie, Joan, Kathleen…and three other women whose names she couldn’t remember. All nice. All kind of old. Well, Becki was the youngest of them, and she was at least fifty. There didn’t seem to be many young women left in small towns. No jobs, she supposed.
But you had to admire them. These generous women had all brought presents and had gone to town with baking. Becki’s charming living room bloomed with cheery cut flowers displayed in the several cut glass and ceramic vases.
And now there was a definite grey feeling hanging in the air, like chilly drizzle. Shower…drizzle. It was peculiarly ironic.
She tried to shake herself free of it. Up to her to rescue the party and make others feel comfortable. Later, she would corner Lottie to learn more about the murder victim.
Gina’s smile lit up the room. She addressed the group. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for this shower. Everyone has been so kind. It’s just not like this in Toronto. People are different.”
That was exactly the right thing to say to get everyone nodding and talking. Gina smiled to herself.
“I’ve always said that about cities,” sniffed Mary, the reverend’s thin wife. “Couldn’t pay me to live there.”
“They don’t even say hello on the streets!” the woman in the flowered dress piped up.
“Not even the shopkeepers.” Well-dressed Pat owned the only women’s clothing shop in town. Probably where Lottie had gotten the Tabi ensemble.
“You’re very lucky to live here. I wish I could,” Gina said.
She looked around the room. Everyone seemed pleased.
It was only a little bit of a lie. Gina had to live near Toronto for her work at The Weather Network. But Tony was building them a lovely home in the country, in Caledon, one of the outer suburbs. She really was looking forward to leaving the noise of the city. Or course, as long as one was close enough to drive in for the restaurants and shopping…
Becki plopped another carefully wrapped present in her lap. “Here, open this one next.”
Gina peeled back the tape, as directed.
“A salad spinner! Just what I need.” It could join the other three in her condo.
When the gifts were all opened and proudly displayed on the dining nook table, everyone milled cheerfully around the kitchen counter, plopping little goodies onto their vintage plates. Homemade pickles, finger sandwiches, squares of every size and make…lemon, date, brownies, something called ‘Sex in a Pan’ which made everyone giggle, especially the older ladies. Truly, this was a luscious escape from the diet world.
Gina made some careful choices, always conscious of the camera and her figure, but still indulging herself. She turned to see where Lottie had gone to and found the woman at her side. The little lady’s head barely came up to her shoulders.
“Will you sit with me?” Lottie’s voice was shaky. “I’m a little lost without my friend here.” She looked at Gina with something like hero-worship.
“Of course,” Gina said. “It’s lovely on the back deck. Shall we go there?”
Gina led the way out the kitchen door. Becki’s balcony was always a delight at this time of year. Colourful blooms made the air fragrant all about them.
There were two Muskoka chairs set up a little away from the patio table and chairs. She headed for the blue chair and sat down.
“I love to watch you on The Weather Network. It’s so much fun to know someone famous.”
Gina never knew how to respond when people said things like that. It wasn’t as if she were a movie star. So usually, she just mumbled, “Thank you.”
“Do they give you all those lovely clothes?”
Now she was back on familiar ground. “Most of them are my own. But sometimes certain shop owners will give me things to wear on the air, just to get their names listed in the credits. I’m always grateful.”
Lottie sighed. “So where are you going on your honeymoon?”
The voice was eager. This woman probably spent a lot of time living vicariously through others, Gina thought.
“A week in London and Paris,” she said.
“Oh!” The old lady clapped her hands together. “I was born in England! I’ve always wanted to go back there. Are you going to Cornwall?”
Gina shook her head. “Not this trip. There isn’t time.” She took a bite from an egg and tuna finger sandwich.
“I’m from Cornwall,” Lottie said wistfully. “We moved when I was five. I still remember parts of it. The little stone cottages with climbing roses. The palm trees along the shore.”
“It sounds beautiful.”
“It was. There was something magical about it. Louisa and I used to talk about travelling there. We were going t
o go together and share a room. But I guess I won’t be going there now.” Sadness flowed from her.
Gina didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. Is there anyone else you could go with?”
Lottie shook her head. “I wouldn’t have the money. Louisa was going to pay for our room.”
Gina continued to munch. She realized it must be hard to live on a meagre pension. She should ask Becki about this woman’s circumstances. Maybe there was something she and Tony could do.
“There are ghosts in Cornwall,” Lottie said. Her voice had changed. The chatter had morphed to something dreamy with a hint of darkness.
Gina’s head shot up. “How do you know?”
“I saw them.” Lottie’s head bobbed up and down. “When I was a little girl.”
Gina smiled down at her plate. Lottie was an odd duck. Did it come from living alone for so long?
“A beautiful lady in white, and a young man on a horse. Her dress was long and flowing, like they used to wear in the olden days. They would meet in the fields behind our cottage at night.”
Gina listened indulgently.
“Of course, I don’t know if the dress was really white. Everything about ghosts seems to be black and white, have you noticed? Like an old TV. There’s never any color. I wonder if it’s because they’re old, or because they’re dead.”
Still one sweet left. Gina popped it into her mouth.
“And of course, they speak to me now.”
Crackers, thought Gina. She hears voices in her head. They have a name for that.
Lottie leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You should always listen to ghosts. It’s not safe to ignore them.”
When Gina went to get coffee from the big metal carafe, Mary, the reverend’s wife came up to her side.
“Was Lottie boring you with her talk of Cornwall? She does go on and on about it.”
Gina reached for cream. Real cream, bless Becki’s heart. She poured it into her coffee.
“That. But mainly, she was talking of ghosts.”
Mary snorted. “Don’t pay any attention to her. Lottie has a screw loose. Still, it was good of you to humour her. Most people find her…trying.”
“What are you trying? Something exciting?” As usual, Becki’s timing was perfect.
“I’m trying to resist any more of these goodies. I’m going to be a fat pig for my wedding if I stay another week with you, Becki.” Gina patted her tummy.
“I’ll bet that pretty dress won’t fit you a year from now,” Becki quipped. “Maybe I’ll be hosting a different kind of shower?”
Laughter tinkled.
“Becki, she’s going to kill you!” Pat made a knife across the throat motion with her hand.
Gina shivered.
Chapter 9
Gina smiled through the flash of the camera like the pro she was. The young male photographer winked at her, then moved away quickly.
“I’m sorry about this,” Becki said ruefully. “I thought the shower would be enough.”
“Damned reporters have to follow you all over town,” grumbled Karl. “Can’t even have a decent meal out without the vultures gathering.”
He grimaced suddenly.
Gina held back a giggle. Becki had obviously kicked him under the table.
“Thanks for being such a good sport,” Becki said. “It’s just that you’re famous in this town. Isn’t often we get a celebrity here.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Gina smiled. At least she was looking good today. Her hair was behaving. The flapper-style silk slip dress was perfect for dining at Pastas on a warm humid night.
“And thanks again for insisting on taking us out here,” Becki continued. “I adore this place, and it’s like pulling teeth to get Karl to move from the kitchen at home.”
“That’s because you’re the best cook around,” Karl said.
Becki beamed. Smart man, Gina thought.
“It’s my pleasure hosting tonight. You were wonderful to give me that shower. I enjoyed it a lot. And Becki, remember all those times you treated me when I was a kid? I used to love coming to stay. Still do. You can’t imagine the pleasure it gives me to be able to reciprocate now that I am in a position to do so.”
Karl grunted. He always seemed pleased when Becki was praised.
Tonight, the air was resplendent with odours of tomato, basil and sweet garlic. Yum. Good thing this dress had no waistline. Those girls in the 1920s knew how to party.
“Lovely place,” she said, gazing around the room. “Whimsical without being overdone. It truly looks like a bistro in Italy.” She picked up the black leather menu folder and opened it.
“Grub’s good too,” Karl stated.
“Oh for goodness sake, Karl!”
Gina had to smile. Becki was always scolding Karl with affection. She knew he loved it. In fact, she was sure he egged Becki on by artfully planting little male-isms like this last one. Probably Becki was on to him, but that was part of the fun.
They had the best relationship of any married couple she knew.
Would she and Tony be so happy?
The waiter brought a tray of water goblets and a basket of crusty rolls. She looked at them longingly.
“What do you have to do to get some wine around here?” Karl asked.
“Karl!” Becki scolded. She shook her head.
Gina laughed. “My treat tonight, so I’m ordering what I want. That okay?”
She turned to the waiter. “A bottle of Amarone and a good Pinot Grigio, please.”
Becki gasped. “Gina! That’s too much.”
“Nonsense. This is a special occasion. Karl, do you want a cocktail to start?”
He shook his head. Gina could see him smiling behind the menu. They were co-conspirators tonight, as usual. It was such fun to tease Becki.
“Three glasses,” she said to the waiter. He smiled and walked away.
“What do you recommend, Becki? I had the gnocchi last time. It was great, but I want to try something else.”
“I love the linguine with mushrooms, parsley and parmesan.”
“Sold,” said Gina. She snapped the menu shut and placed it down on the starched white tablecloth. “And Caesar salad.” Light on the dressing, of course. This weekend had put at least one pound on her, already.
Karl was helping himself to a crusty white roll. She gathered her thoughts to help her resist temptation.
“So. About Louisa. I’m thinking I could do a little research in Toronto among my society contacts. Ask around, see if anyone from their crowd went missing two decades ago. Is that okay with you, Karl?”
“Let me think,” he said. “You’d have to be subtle. Don’t want you stirring anything up that could put you in danger.”
It was funny even hearing Karl use the word ‘subtle.’ It was even funnier thinking of these front page society matrons as dangerous. Unless you considered perfectly groomed fake fingernails a weapon.
“Thing is,” Gina continued, “I know a few women who were in that high society clique many years ago. Friends of Mom’s. I can ask them individually over lunch.”
“What excuse would you have for asking them, Gina?”
Good question. Becki was always a quick thinker.
“Maybe something along fashion lines. I could say I’m doing a segment on Toronto designers of the 80s and 90s, for the Life Network. I came across a few photos, and I can identify most of the women, but there was one wearing Pat McDonagh who I’d like to get in touch with for an interview.”
Karl looked sceptical. “Do people really care about that crap?”
“Karl!”
Gina smiled. “Let me start with Mom. She might have some ideas. I’ll get her to invite them out for lunch, one by one.”
Becki groaned. “Gina, you’ll never fit into your dress by the wedding.”
“Salad and wine, Becki. Salad and wine. Those women are allergic to carbs.”
At the sound of the word, temptation won out. Gina’s slim hand reac
hed across the table for a crusty white roll.
Next morning, when she was packing up her suitcase, doubts crept into Gina’s mind.
Becki sat on the edge of the bed, looking sad.
“Are you sure you have to go already? You could stay here a few more days. Karl would be delighted.”
Gina looked up. “I’d love to but I can’t.”
It was true too. She did love Black Currant Bay—the quiet town, the quirky houses and the gentle, eccentric people up here. Of course, they would probably consider themselves normal, and city people eccentric.
Becki looked down at her hands. “It’s just that this must be what empty nest syndrome feels like. I get used to you being here, and then you leave.”
Now she laughed. “Becki, I’m coming back up in just two months. And you know you can always come down to the city anytime to stay with me.”
“Hate the city,” Becki grumbled.
“Then good thing I’m moving to the country with Tony. You’ll enjoy visiting there.”
Gina smiled. It felt good to be missed by Becki. She closed the top of the suitcase and zipped it up.
“Besides, the wedding is almost here. You’re coming down for that.”
Becki brightened. “I have that new dress for it. Can’t wait to pick it up at the store.”
Gina moved out the hall to the adjacent bathroom. She gathered up her makeup bag and carried it back to the guest bedroom.
“What do you really think about Louisa, Becki? Do you think we’ll be able to find out who she really was?”
Becki pushed off the bed, then immediately turned around and smoothed the bedcover with her hands.
“I think it’s really hard to hide from someone who is determined to find you. But she’s done it all these years and got away with it until this week. So my question is, ‘what happened recently to ‘blow her cover,’ as they say in the movies?’”
“You mean, something has come to light recently. Something that pointed to her location and spooked the killer to act.”
Becki paused at the door. “It could be that. Or it could be that someone has been out of circulation for twenty years, and has just gotten free.”
A Killer Necklace Page 4
