Miss Bea welcomed Josie to the troupe, introducing her to the others as the ‘gal who would play the “lady of the night”.’ I could see that the menfolk approved of that role. Josie liked it as well, preening her blonde head slightly as she acknowledged Miss Bea’s announcement.
We spent the next half hour discussing the storyline, checking and doublechecking for obvious holes in the plot. Chuckling, Miss Bea assigned the murderer’s role to Julian and that of the victim to Josie.
‘I clean forgot to have a murderer in my Murder Mystery Tour last show, so let’s get it straight right now, shall we?’ We all nodded, wanting this to be an A1 performance of which Miss Bea would be proud. Well, I knew that was the way that LJ, Derek, Leslie, and I felt; it was my fervent desire that these four newcomers would feel the same.
Finally it felt like all bases were covered and that all holes had been plugged. We agreed to meet at the fairground near the front entrance and have a practice that afternoon before the evening’s engagement. I could feel the slightest movement of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach; this audience would be much larger than the one at the Moose Lodge and I didn’t want anything to go wrong.
Looking back, I can see that we missed the warning signs right from the get-go.
They were flashing neon bright and none of us, me included, had an inkling of the trouble that would take place before we left Manchester.
But that was all in hindsight, which, as everyone knows, is 20/20.
Amazingly, I was hungry again and ready for lunch. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed our breakfast, and we loaded up the wagon and headed to the same restaurant.
Lunchtime was a bit more crowded and we had to wait for a table, but we were all perfectly content to do so. The hostess, a college-age girl in a gingham shirt, tight blue jeans, and cowboy boots handed us a menu to browse through so we could order as soon as we were seated. All around us, others were doing the same; who was I to break a local custom?
The menu featured full-color pictures of fruit pies portioned onto thick white china plates, topped à la mode or with a slab of cheddar, and thickly cut steaks that had been grilled to perfection, served with loaded baked potatoes or cottage fries, and coleslaw or macaroni salad. When I think about this time, it is the food that is the most memorable. I had come to Colorado to be an actress and had found Food Heaven.
We were seated next to the large window that looked out over the main thoroughfare. Noontime traffic was in full swing, meaning that a total of six cars were counted as we ate lunch. Foot traffic was much more common, and the neat sidewalks were full of people meandering to lunch dates or to one of the cute little stores that lined the street.
I thoroughly enjoyed my lunch. I had ordered the grilled prawns and scallops on a bed of linguine, the whole thing drizzled in a garlic butter. I could tell it was real butter, too; none of that faintly oily taste that I associate with vegetable spread was apparent. It came with a Caesar salad and garlic breadsticks, and I ate every bite, using my bread to sop up the last of the butter sauce. Delicious!
Once again stuffed to the brim, I silently promised myself to start eating more wisely. What that entailed, I didn’t define too clearly, but I figured if I left off the bread and only had butter once a day, I’d be in good shape.
Speaking of shapes, Leslie was having a difficult time matching a dress up with Josie’s buxom figure. The bottom of the dress would be fine, but the top was way too tight. Finally, with help from Miss Bea, she decided to have Josie leave the bustier unlaced and add a lacy camisole under it. That was the only possible way to get that girl into anything that looked right for a fallen woman.
Lily was easier to dress. She was slightly built, without the issues that Josie had (a polite way of saying she was flat-chested) and could use any one of the dancer dresses available. Leslie chose to put her in a bright pink number that had cream-colored lace marching down the front and on the short train. The bodice was laced up with pink silk ribbons, and a ‘modesty panel’ had been added for the reserved Lily. Even if I hadn’t known she was a librarian, I would have still guessed that. Or a nanny. She seemed to be one who could coax the most recalcitrant child into behaving. I had watched her at the meeting this morning and was confident that I had pegged her correctly.
That, dear reader, was definitely an error in judgment, as I was eventually to discover.
We made the move from the Manchester YMCA back to the KOA trailers, welcomed with open arms by the McLaughlins. Miss Bea and Mrs McLaughlin were still a bit cautious with one another, but Mr McLaughlin more than made up for his wife, cracking jokes and helping us move our bags into the trailers.
The boys had a two-bedroom affair near the entrance to the park, complete with a barbecue grill and deckchairs. We ladies were put into a three-bedroom mobile home on the edge near the line of spruces that marched next to the campground. It gave me a sense of privacy among the many other trailers parked near us, and I was happy to take the bedroom furthest from the front. I was thrilled to have my own room again, since I was not looking forward to another night of ‘bells and whistles’ from the two other gals. As much as I had gotten fond of Miss Bea and Leslie, I was fine with not sharing too much personal space with them.
We still had a little while before taking off for the fairgrounds, so I invited Leslie to go on a walk with me. I needed to get out into the open and stretch my limbs, and I also wanted a chance to chat with her outside Miss Bea’s keen hearing.
I’d had a funny feeling since that morning, one that I could not put my finger on, and I needed to air the topic from another perspective. I’m not psychic in the least, but I’ve always had somewhat of a gift, you could say, for discerning the intentions of others.
Someone who had joined our troupe had upset the emotional balance, and I wasn’t sure which it was. Well, that’s not precisely true. I had a strong suspicion that Josie was going to be trouble with a capital ‘T’, and I was fairly certain that I knew what kind of trouble she’d brought with her. What I wasn’t sure of was who her ‘partner in crime’ could be. Andy? He had seemed infatuated with her and had given LJ fits over his flirting with Leslie. To my mind, Julian was out of the running; he was too meek and laid back to cause any problems. The same went for Bert. I saw him as a decent guy, not given to obvious reactions to much of anything, and not one to start a fuss over a girl.
Leslie and I strolled down the path, having called out a farewell to Miss Bea and an assurance that we’d be back in twenty minutes or so. The day was clear and absolutely still; not even the slightest breeze moved the trees and the air was icy. I shivered, tucking deeper inside my sweatshirt and pulling the jacket tighter around me. I liked cold weather, maybe even loved it, but that was when I was snug inside a warm house, feet covered and a good book at hand. The faster we moved, though, the warmer I got, and soon I was able to relax the tight muscles in my back and enjoy the view.
‘So what’s on your mind?’ asked Leslie as we turned right at the office and continued around the campground’s perimeter. The McLaughlins had planted beds of flowers native to the area: creamy thistle and blue star, pensternon and Colorado blue columbine, milkweed and cowbane; a lovely mix of whites and blues against the green of the trees. The effect was breathtaking, and I found myself comparing these woods, so cold and clean, to the damp pine forests of Louisiana. I loved my home, but I was becoming quite fond of this new vista as well.
I stopped walking and turned to face Leslie, unsure how to phrase my concern.
‘Well?’ she asked, adding, ‘If you’re worried about the performance, don’t. You’ll do fine.’
I shook my head.
‘No, it’s not that at all. I … well, I just don’t like the way the mix feels this time around, you know …?’ I looked at her earnestly, hoping that she would indeed know what I meant.
‘What do you mean, “the way the mix feels this time around”?’ It was Leslie’s turn to look quizzical. ‘Do you mea
n the local guys? The way they’ll portray the characters?’
‘No, not that so much as the way everyone responds to each other,’ I replied slowly, stooping down to pick a soft Colorado thistle. ‘I just felt, I don’t know, some strange vibes this morning.’
Leslie laughed, brushing a friendly hand across my shoulders. ‘Oh, you mean Josie and the Men.’ The way she said it, the word, I could hear the capital ‘M’.
‘Yes, and no. I’m not making much sense here. I guess I want this whole thing to be as smooth as possible. Miss Bea has worked so hard on this and I’ll be damned if I let some outsiders wreck it for her.’
I meant every word.
‘Yeah, I know how you feel. She’s amazing.’ We started walking again, taking the long way back to our trailer. ‘I don’t want her disappointed either.’ Leslie paused. ‘I think I’ll keep that Josie in my sight at all times. She’d be just the type to cause a ruckus.’
I fervently agreed, although I still harbored a niggling feeling in the back of my mind. I wasn’t sure that what I had picked up on could be laid entirely at Josie’s pedicured and high-heeled feet.
Miss Bea was in something of a tizzy when we returned to the trailer. Her hair, with normally just a few fingers of it waving about, now resembled an entire hand on top of her head.
‘Have either of you seen my handbag?’ We both stared at her, then at each other. I had indeed seen it; it was a very large, almost suitcase-size monstrosity and it wasn’t easy to lose.
‘You had it on your arm when we got here, I’m sure of it,’ replied Leslie, forehead crinkled with concentration. ‘When we stopped off at the McLaughlins’ for the keys, I saw you set it down on the table …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Oh, dear, Miss Bea! Do you think that you left it there? In their office?’
‘I’ll get down there pronto and check it out, Miss Bea. You stay here with Leslie and, I don’t know, search around for it. I’ll be back in a flash.’ I was as good as my word.
I jumped the steps that led from the front door and broke into a trot. While I was in reasonably good shape, I didn’t want pull a hammie or anything so dreadful, so I kept it to a slow run. The office wasn’t that far and I arrived in a short amount of time. As I rounded the corner of the faux log building, I drew up short: the office’s interior was dark, the front door shuttered, and the place deserted.
Not one to shy away from a challenge, I strode around the other side of the office and pounded on the door marked ‘Private – Manager’s Residence’. It, too, seemed to be empty, but I redoubled the pounding, just in case the two McLaughlins were napping, or eating, or otherwise occupied.
The door to a nearby trailer swung open, revealing a very grumpy woman with the ubiquitous lavender hair. Something clicked in my mind, and I took another look: I could not believe my eyes! It was the chatty old woman from the train, the one whose constant yammering had been outdone only by the screaming children. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
‘What are you trying to do, young lady?’ she barked, glaring at me through a fringe of hair. ‘Wake the dead? I am trying to get a nap here.’ Apparently she mistook ‘napping’ for something a little more permanent in nature.
‘Oh, sorry, ma’am,’ I replied, somewhat intimidated. ‘I’m looking for the managers. Did you happen to notice where they went?’ I mentally crossed my fingers in the hope that she was as nosey as she was talkative.
She paused, thinking, then shook her head. Another strand of hair fell down. ‘I spoke to the wife earlier, but I have seen neither hide nor hair of them since. It was about an hour ago, I’d guess.’
Her eyes seemed to home in on me then, recognition lighting up her powdered and rouged face. ‘Aha! I thought I’d seen you before! I remember traveling with you on the train from Piney Woods to Denver. What in heaven’s name are you doing here?’
I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly manner, then dipped my head a bit in acknowledgement. ‘I came to Colorado – Copper, not Denver – to join Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tour.’ I couldn’t help it; a tone of pride had crept into my voice and I wanted this old woman to realize that she was in the presence of greatness.
She snorted. ‘Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tour’? Don’t tell me that you’re mixed up with that Beatrice Becklaw!’
I have to confess that I nearly fell over.
Chapter Seven
‘Yes – I – Miss Bea …’ I could not get out that yes, indeed, I was ‘mixed up’ with ‘that Beatrice Becklaw’, and how did she know her? Thankfully, the woman was good at translating stammering lips.
She came fully out of her trailer then, and I noticed that she limped slightly. ‘I might have known she would get up to something like this eventually. I’m Lucinda Becklaw, Beatrice’s sister-in-law. What is your name, young lady?’
I automatically stuck out my hand. ‘Josephine Anderson, ma’am. Jo for short.’ We shook, and her grip was certainly firmer than was mine at the moment. I chalked it up to shock.
‘Lead the way. I want a word with Beatrice.’ Lucinda Becklaw turned and locked the door, then stomped down the porch steps.
I, a survivor of Seven Brothers Boot Camp and not given to questioning my elders, began walking back toward our assigned trailer. I made sure that my gait was slower so that she could easily stay in step. Her limp, more pronounced now that she was moving faster, seemed to fit her, and I noticed with admiration that she didn’t rely on anything to help her. I had a feeling that the Becklaw sisters-in-law suited one another.
I went in first. Normally I would hold the door for an elder and let her precede me into a room, but I wanted to prepare Miss Bea. I owed that much to her, I thought.
Leslie and Miss Bea sat side by side on the trailer’s overstuffed couch, Leslie holding Miss Bea’s hand and stroking it. I could see that Miss Bea had been crying.
‘Ah, Miss Bea,’ I began. ‘No one was at the office. But …’ here I paused, unsure of what to say. ‘I ran into someone you might know. May I present Miss Lucinda Becklaw?’
As if on cue, in stamped Lucinda. Also as if on cue, Miss Bea suddenly slumped over, leaning heavily on Leslie’s shoulder. Leslie and I exchanged worried looks. Had she fainted? Or worse, had shock sent her heart into a tailspin?
‘Oh snap out of it, Beatrice.’ Lucinda Becklaw’s voice was brusque and she walked over and gave Miss Bea’s shoulder a good whack. Miss Bea instantly recovered.
Instead of addressing her sister-in-law, as one might have expected, she turned to me, saying reproachfully, ‘Oh, Jo, how could you?’
How could I what? I wanted to ask, but instead kept my peace. Lucinda broke in.
‘Still the timid little Beatrice, I can see that clearly,’ she said disdainfully. ‘Well, it looks as if you need someone around to keep order, and since our dear Desmond has passed on to his reward, may he rest in the peace he never had on earth, it’ll have to be me.’ She took herself over to one of two armchairs and plopped down heavily, her lame leg sticking straight out in front. It was only then that I noticed the shiny metal of a brace.
Miss Bea sat up straighter, fire in her eyes. ‘Oh, no, you won’t, Lucy!’ Leslie and I looked at her in wonder. We’d never heard such a tone coming from our sweet little Miss Bea.
‘Oh, yes, I will, Beatrice, and you will kindly call me by my given name. You know that I detest shortcuts of any kind.’ Lucinda gave Miss Bea a hard stare from narrowed eyes, and I shuddered. Old women were worse than children, I was beginning to think.
Leslie had risen to her feet, glancing from one old warrior to the other. ‘I could make us some tea, if you’d like, Miss Bea,’ she offered. I could tell that she wanted to get away from the shots being launched over the bows of battleships familiar with years of verbal volleying.
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ I stated, not waiting for Miss Bea’s reply. ‘Leslie, to the kettle.’ I guided her out of the front room and through the narrow door into the galleystyle kitchen.
Leslie drooped against
the counter, arms crossed and a wary look in her eyes. ‘Do you think that it was wise bringing that woman here?’
I laughed, a short bark of grim amusement. ‘I had no choice in the matter. She just gave me an order and I obeyed. I was afraid not to,’ I added, with what I hoped was a pitiful look on my face.
Leslie turned to the cupboard and began pulling out teacups and saucers. ‘I suppose they’ll be OK in there alone,’ she began, hunting now for the tea bags. ‘At least I hope so. Do you think that she was close to her brother, what’s his name, Dermot?’
‘It’s Desmond, and I have a feeling that the two of them battled it out for supremacy in Desmond’s affections.’ I handed Leslie a handful of tea bags; then turned the burner under the stainless steel kettle to ‘High’.
‘That must be typical behavior for the two of them,’ I said, using my chin to indicate the front room where the two old women now sat in complete silence.
With the tea brewed and a plate of store-bought chocolate chip cookies loaded onto a tray, Leslie and I moved back into the living room. Miss Bea sat with her hands clasped, lips thin and eyes fixed on a point somewhere near the ceiling. Miss Lucinda (that’s how I had begun thinking of her) still sat in her armchair, glowering at Miss Bea.
‘Here’s some tea and cookies,’ I announced brightly. ‘Miss Bea, Miss Lucinda, would you like one or two?’
‘I’ll take three,’ said Miss Lucinda. ‘Give Beatrice one. She’s usually watching that figure of hers.’ She smirked across at her sister-in-law. ‘On second thoughts, I’ll take hers, too.’
Miss Bea sat silently, hurt feelings almost palpable. I felt very protective of her just then, and sat down next to her on the sofa. Leslie took the other side, the two of us a buffer from the hurricane that was Lucinda Becklaw.
Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) Page 5
