Eureka, I thought. She’s got it! (Never mind that I was feeling a bit cynical at this moment, dear reader. I was actually impressed that the girl knew her right hand from her left.) With that little issue taken care of, Miss Bea gave us all last-minute chores to do before we left.
I soon found myself side by side with Miss Lucinda, moving chairs closer to the tables in order to form more walking space for when Leslie and I would venture out among the diners and encourage them to participate. Much to my surprise and thankfulness, she had nothing to say. Instead, she marched up and down to the best of her ability, shoving in chairs with enough vigor to make me think that she still was a bit miffed over the ‘Get Out’ scene with Miss Bea.
I have to say that right about then I was starting to get a funny feeling about the entire thing: the venue we’d been hired on to play, the way Miss Lucinda showed up out of the blue, and even the way that Skinny Joe insisted on helping to choose the bit-parters. Something Did Not Feel Right. No siree, Bob.
I did have a sort of reputation already, though, as one who tended to leap to conclusions and even quicker to action, so I was loath to mention any of my gut reactions to anyone. That is, until I was cornered by Miss Lucinda at the end of one of the long tables.
‘So spill it already, missy,’ Miss Lucinda barked, blocking my path with her girth.
As is my wont, I feigned a look of innocence as my mind raced to decide what I could say to this woman. ‘I’m afraid that I don’t …’ I began, but Miss Lucinda’s laser beam glare blew my words clean out of this galaxy.
‘Do not play ingenuous with me, young lady! I’ve had plenty of experience with folks like you who like to think that age dulls one’s senses. Well, I wasn’t born yesterday,’ – a sharp look from her stopped my grin in its tracks – ‘so you’d better give it up. Now.’
She sounded a lot like my third grade teacher, scary Mrs Fiornelli with the moustache.
I gave it up.
‘Miss Lucinda,’ I said, ‘I really have a bad feeling about all of this.’ There. I’d said it. She could take it or leave it. I hoped she’d leave it.
She took it.
Miss Lucinda plopped down a bit unsteadily, her braced leg stuck straight out in front. She motioned to me to sit down as well, which I did, afraid to defy her.
She really did remind me of Mrs Fiornelli, moustache and all.
As I sat in silence, hoping that I could use this as a defense, Miss Lucinda cleared her throat with a loud ‘harrumph’, then began to speak.
‘I have to admit, Jo, that my finding you all was no accident. I have been concerned for a while about how my brother, well, about his death, its suddenness and the fact that we never saw a body or had a funeral. We’ve only had Beatrice’s word all these years.’ She stopped speaking, staring past me at some memory. She sighed, shaking her head as if to rejoin the real world.
‘When our mother passed away, my sister and I promised each other that we’d find out the truth of the matter, no matter how awful or how mundane. If it was true that he’d died in a boating accident and was never found, so be it. But if we found out that Beatrice or someone else had a hand in his disappearance, there would be hell to pay.
‘Unfortunately, my sister has also passed, leaving me the sole survivor of the Becklaw family. It’s up to me to find out the truth about Desmond and to reclaim anything that might still be rightfully our family’s.’ She stopped speaking, head down. I felt a wave of sadness for this woman whose entire family was gone, who was left with a nutter like Miss Bea.
Wait a doggone minute, I mentally scolded myself. You just accused Miss Bea, sweet, kind, do-anything-for-anyone Miss Bea, of being as off her rocker as Crazy GreatAunt Opal.
Well, that stood to reason, didn’t it? I knew the symptoms. I suppose I’d known all along that Miss Beatrice Becklaw, Proprietor of Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tour, was a nut. Oh, boy. Where did that leave me? I guess I knew this entire escapade was too good to be true. The best thing for me, I thought wretchedly, was to get myself back to Copper, pack my belongings, and head back to Piney Woods.
Or not. I couldn’t just up and leave Leslie to Miss Bea’s mercies. Or LJ. Or Derek. Or even Miss Lucinda, for that matter. I was going to have to stick it out, maybe give Miss Lucinda a hand with her investigation. Lord only knew what we’d uncover.
But I was ready. I lifted my head, looked Lucinda Becklaw straight in the eyes and said, ‘You can count on me, Miss Lucinda.’
If I had known what those seven words held in store for me, I would’ve sooner bitten my tongue than utter them.
Chapter Nine
The rest of the day flew by on butterfly wings. That made perfect sense to me, since the butterflies were back in force in my stomach. I noticed Leslie was a little more subdued than usual, and that LJ was quiet as well, but that was par for the course for him. Derek alone seemed untouched by the nervous fingers of performance anxiety, and I was a tad jealous. And irritated. I was peeved that he seemed so rock-steady when it came to situations that would send the normal heart racing into overdrive while mine did everything but leap straight out of my chest.
Oh well, I consoled myself. Karma would bite him in the butt one day. I just wanted it to be sooner rather than later so I could witness it.
We had returned to the KOA and the sanctity of our respective trailers in order to ‘rest our eyes’, as my mother always says. I don’t know how much ‘resting’ the others’ eyes got, but mine certainly were lacking in that department. I played the conversation with Miss Lucinda over and over in my head, rethinking my decision to stay. I have to admit that I was thoroughly torn.
I had just convinced myself to pack it in when a knock sounded on my door. With a grumble obvious in my tone, I said, ‘It’s open.’ I was not up to receiving visitors the way I was currently feeling.
Leslie’s worried face peeked around the corner of the open door, hesitating for a moment before coming inside all the way. I guess my tone threw her off; I’m not normally the group grump.
‘Er, Jo? You got a minute?’ She sounded a bit anxious, so I sighed, sat up, and patted the bed next to me.
‘Have a sit, Leslie. What’s on your mind?’ I needed to get switched into Miss Jo’s persona anyway.
She sat where I indicated but didn’t say anything right away. That was OK. I needed a moment to get my own thoughts together. When she finally opened her mouth, what came out startled me to no end.
‘Jo, I’m pretty sure that there’s something up with Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda.’ She looked at me with trusting eyes, waiting for me to reassure her that, no, indeedy, nothing was the matter and why in the world was she even thinking like that?
I looked back at her, then asked, ‘What’s made you think that, Leslie?’ I wanted to hear her take on matters, to see if it matched my own concerns.
I think that I astonished her. It astonished me, sitting here and talking about Miss Bea as if she was some sort of monster. Which she might just be, at least according to Miss Lucinda.
‘I am so worried about Miss Bea,’ Leslie began, her voice hesitant, maybe doubting her own intuition. ‘That Lucinda Becklaw is up to no good.’
Now it was my turn to be silent. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a suitable response. I had been so geared up to hear something about how Miss Bea was turning out to be a reincarnation of Mrs Fiornelli that I hadn’t stop to think that Miss Lucinda might, indeed, be the bad one here, out to harm our sweet Miss Bea (she had already assumed her former label in my mind) and ruin our troupe.
Thankfully my tongue recovers quickly.
‘Now, Leslie,’ I said, giving my mind time to catch up to my mouth. ‘Now Leslie,’ I repeated, ‘what makes you think that Miss Lucinda is up to no good?’ This I had to hear.
Now it was Leslie’s turn to be tongue-tied. That condition sure was catching.
‘I’m not sure why I even think that,’ she finally said, one hand picking at a loose thread on my bedspread. ‘There
’s just something – well, the woman just strikes me as being a bit underhanded.’ She said that last part with her chin slightly lifted as if she expected me to give her an argument. Instead, I said nothing, just nodded slowly.
‘You think so too?’ Leslie’s voice had raised a pitch or two, and I quickly leaned over to shush her, pointing with my free hand toward the direction of the living room. Miss Bea’s door had opened very quietly, but my ears had caught the dragging sound as the badly hung door moved across the carpet.
We both sat quietly for a moment then both began to speak at once, talking in an overly-cheery manner about the evening’s performance. When I was sure that she had gone back to her room and closed the door, I spoke:
‘Look, Leslie, we can’t go around suspecting old women of anything except maybe cheating at bingo.’ I spoke in what I hoped was a tone of assurance, but I still had the niggling doubts in my mind – and now they had doubled. Good Lord, I thought. What in the world have I gotten myself into?
I reached over and gave Leslie’s hand a reassuring pat. ‘Let’s just forget this for the time being and survive this first performance. If you’re still feeling this way tomorrow, let’s talk about it again. Maybe even with Derek and LJ, just to get a guy’s perspective. It might just be us.’
Leslie smiled at me. ‘You know exactly how to make me feel better, Jo,’ she said, leaning over and giving me a quick squeeze.
I smiled in what I hoped was a positive manner. I had never felt more negative vibes in my entire life. Well, except for the time I had to spend the afternoon with Crazy Great-Aunt Opal, cleaning out her sewing basket and listening to her stories about ‘life on the inside’, as she called her assisted-living luxury apartment.
Other than that, life was peachy.
Before I knew it, it was time to hit the road and scoot on over to the Silverton County Fairgrounds. Miss Bea’s driving was a bit more erratic than usual, but that might have just been director’s jitters. I fervently hoped that was it.
Be that as it may, we eventually arrived in one piece, parking the station wagon alongside the vehicles that belonged to the fair employees. Derek had remembered to grab the orange placard that said ‘Silverton County Fairgrounds Employee’ on it. He laid it on the dashboard and away we went to face our audience and our fears.
The dining area was already hopping. People were walking through the food line, filling plates with pulled pork or pieces of barbecued chicken, coleslaw and ears of com, baked beans, and rolls. The desserts sat off to the side, next to the table that held four large urns of coffee and half a dozen pitchers of iced water. I took the long way round the room before heading back to the dressing area; I wanted an ‘up close and personal’ view of the goodies.
Leslie had already changed into her dancing girl costume, topped off with a frothy feather boa slung over her left shoulder and around her neck, by the time I got to the dressing room. I thought the look was perfect; Leslie exuded ‘cheap’ like a professional.
And I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Miss Bea was helping Lily wriggle into her gear, pulling down on the ‘modesty panel’ to show a bit more of Lily than Lily was willing to show. As quickly as Miss Bea let the front of the dress go, Lily would tug it back up again. If I didn’t have to get ready myself, I would have stood there to see who would win. My money was on Miss Bea.
Josie wasn’t there yet, and I saw that Leslie kept glancing at the clock that hung on the wall above the door. There was still enough time, I thought idly. If we all were ready too soon, we’d just set around and make each other nervous. And crazy.
‘Crazy’ reminded me of Crazy Great-Aunt Opal, which in turn reminded me of Miss Lucinda. Oh, dear. What was it that had my thoughts making that direct connection? I’d just have to tuck this into the back of my mind and let it stew around a while. Eventually it would come to me, I was sure.
I opened the box that held my ‘school marm’ dress and those killer buttonhook boots and took myself off to a corner to get dressed. I wasn’t modest by anyone’s standard, that much was true, but I didn’t want to give Miss Bea another costume to fiddle with. It was safer if I got out of her way. Hence the corner.
I had bent down to fasten those insufferable buttons when I noticed Leslie and Miss Bea in a worried consultation. It was probably about that Josie again and, come to think of it, she probably should have been here ten minutes ago. That was a pet peeve of mine; being ‘fashionably late’ was not my idea of polite behavior. Well, she’d better be on her toes when she arrived or Miss Bea would take her pay out of her pretty little hide.
A knock at the door caused all three of us to jump.
Leslie called out, ‘Who is it?’
I strained my ears to see if I could hear Josie’s tinkly little laugh, which, by the way, was pet peeve number two. So far she had two of the five things that bugged me, and that did not bode well for her in my book.
‘Miss Bea? Miss Lucinda sent us to fetch you.’ Andy – or Bert, or maybe it was Julian – was on the other side of the door. Miss Bea wrenched it open in one mighty tug. Leslie and I looked at each other in surprise; as my brothers would say, ‘Who’da thunk it?’ Miss Bea was certainly full of surprises.
‘And just what does That Woman want?’ Miss Bea’s voice fairly dripped with scorn. I saw Bert flinch (it was Bert out there) and take one step back as if to create a buffer between him and the small dragon he now saw standing in front of him.
‘Ah, ma’ am, she just said that you needed to get out to the parking lot as soon as possible.’ Bert looked unhappy at having to deliver an order to Miss Bea. I couldn’t say that I blamed him one iota.
‘Oh. She. Did.’ Miss Bea’s words were so clipped that they formed their own sentences, complete with punctuation. Heaven help Miss Lucinda if this wasn’t a true emergency, I thought wryly.
‘Yes, ma’am. I can take you to her if you’d like, ma’am.’ Poor Bert. I could tell that he wanted to be as far away from Miss Bea as was humanly possible, but this boy’s mama had raised him right. Kudos to her, whoever she was.
I decided to relieve him of his duties.
‘I’ll handle this, Bert,’ I replied kindly, reaching out and giving his arm a tiny shove in the guise of patting him. The shove said ‘get as far away as possible’, and he took the hint.
More kudos to his mother, may God bless her. She had trained him to be womanready, radar and all.
He hustled out of there as fast as his polite little legs could take him. I turned to Miss Bea and Leslie and said, ‘Shall we?’ as I motioned toward the hall with a sweeping gesture. I do so love a good drama, and this certainly had all the makings of one. Lily made no move to join us, and I didn’t insist.
I guess I half expected that Miss Lucinda would actually be waiting for us inside but there was no sign of her as we entered the main eating area and paused to scan the room. I shrugged, lifting an eyebrow as I looked at Leslie. She gave a half-shrug back and nodded. I turned to Miss Bea, taking her plump elbow in my hand.
‘I can run ahead and see what she wants, or we can all go together. Which suits you, Miss Bea?’ I mentally voted on the first option. I wanted to get the scoop first and get Miss Lucinda calmed down if I needed to.
‘Don’t be silly, child.’ Miss Bea smiled up at me, but her eyes were battle-ready. ‘I will not leave you to fight my skirmishes without my support. Onward and upward, girls!’
I swear I could hear the sound of bugles and smell the acrid scent of gunpowder.
Chapter Ten
With Miss Bea leading the way, we three marched out to the parking lot. I actually did feel quite militant, although I suspected we simply looked like three nutty women off to rein in a recalcitrant husband or boyfriend. Oh, well, I sighed inwardly. No one from Piney Woods could see me and tell my mom that I was getting more and more like Crazy Great-Aunt Opal by the day. That was, at least, some relief.
It was also the last relief I was to have for some time after t
hat.
To our surprise, the parking lot was alight with the flashing blues and reds of police and emergency vehicles. I heard Miss Bea moan, ‘Not my car, oh please, not my beautiful car!’ I almost laughed aloud.
A ribbon of yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the evening breeze and I shivered in my thin dress. I stole a glance at Leslie, who had scooped up a jacket just as we left the dressing room. Smart move on her part, I acknowledged. It kept her warm and let the men’s eyeballs stay in their heads where they belonged. I would have hated to see Miss Bea go ballistic over some silly men.
I spotted Miss Lucinda standing off to one side of the scene in front of us, a tall man in a police uniform standing near her and writing something down. Oh, dear Lord, I thought with alarm. Miss Lucinda’s gone and bashed in Miss Bea’s precious vehicle!
It would have been much, much better if it had been that silly old car.
I don’t know if I actually noticed Josie first, or if Miss Bea did. All I can recall is that suddenly the two of us were through the yellow tape and staring down in horror at the tiny, twisted body of Josie, her hands flung up above her head as if in flight and a hole in her chest. I prayed that it had been a quick journey.
‘Er … ma’am?’ With a quick look at his paperwork, the officer who had been talking to Miss Lucinda approached us. ‘Are you Beatrice Becklaw of Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tours?’ Something in his tone alerted me and I stepped forward without thinking; which is another one of my specialties.
‘Yes, this is Miss Bea, and before you ask it, we have never, ever had a real live dead body in one of our performances.’ I could have crawled under a rock as soon as the words left my mouth. “A real live dead body”? Really, Jo?
His eyes flashed in my direction briefly, and thankfully I saw a glint of amusement there. ‘Ma’am, I just need to speak with Beatrice, with Miss Bea here, so if you’ll wait over there by’– his hand gestured toward Miss Lucinda, who was staring at poor Josie with a look of complete sadness on her face.
Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) Page 7
