I shook my head. “Sorry, ladies. I’m on the committee. . .”
“So you know the answer.” Enid smiled mysteriously, as if she knew the answer, and flipped a couple of pages in her Bible. “Well, let’s continue with Psalm 119, then. We’re on the eighteenth letter, Nun, today.”
We started by reading the passage in unison as usual. I had read the passage over several times, but today verse 111 jumped out at me. Your statutes are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart. God convicted me right then and there. The most important heritage Audie and I could pass on to our children was God’s word.
Thirty minutes later, we closed in prayer. Enid snagged a muffin. “Mmm, Jessie really is an artist with food.”
“Takes one to know one.” I pointed to my empty salad bowl.
“She does wonders baking with Dustin’s honey. I’ve bought some myself. Used it in the dressing for our salad.”
I really needed to check out Dustin’s goods. Maybe Gilda would enjoy a trip to the farm as well.
Enid turned the box around, offering the last muffin to Suzanne. “So Jessie opened her store today after all. Poor Finella.”
Suzanne chased a few crumbs around the box—she rarely allowed herself an entire muffin—and closed the top. “She used to date that artist fellow. He always seemed so nice.”
I bristled. The town already assumed Brad was the guilty party. “No one has accused him of anything.”
“Do you think he’s innocent?” Suzanne turned wide eyes in my direction.
“What I think is that we don’t know all the facts yet.”
“I hope the police take the time to conduct a proper investigation instead of rushing things.” Enid always seemed to know the workings of the county without ever engaging in gossip. “I know they’re anxious to return to their investigation of drug dealers.”
We had heard about the explosion in drug trafficking many times before. Pastor Waldberg had thundered about it from the pulpit, and more than that, had organized activities aimed to help at-risk kids. Beneath all his bluster beat a kind heart.
“But if they get it wrong, I’m sure you’ll help set them straight.” Enid patted my arm as she cleaned up our lunch dishes.
I made a conscious decision to close my gaping mouth.
Did all of Grace Gulch expect me to hunt down Finella’s murderer?
A part of me didn’t want to resist.
7
Rumors persist to this day that Larry Grace brought his share of the bank loot to the Circle G Ranch and hid it somewhere on the property. Generations of Grace Gulch kids have scoured the landscape looking for Grace’s hidey hole. The occasional school teacher made a search for the buried treasure the reward for finishing a section on local history.
Did Larry Grace share in the proceeds of the bank robbery? Did he hide it somewhere in Grace Gulch? No one knows, but this much is certain: In nine decades of searching, no one has uncovered any buried treasure.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Wednesday, September 13
Waa!! Waa!! A piercing blast of the horn ripped through the air as we gathered for prayer meeting at the Word of Faith Fellowship. Every person over the age of two in Oklahoma recognized that sound. Tornado warning. We scurried out of the sanctuary in an orderly line and to the basement to wait out the storm.
Audie joined the men standing at the open basement door, listening to a radio. Men. I never would understand their desire to stare at approaching disaster instead of waiting in safety until the all clear sounded. A storm chaser I was not. All the fuss woke up Junior and he began his ritual kickboxing routine. After a few minutes, I gave up the fight for a comfortable position on the metal folding chair and instead joined Enid in the kitchen where she was slicing fresh peaches and apples for a snack.
“How are you tonight?”
“Junior is giving me fits. I decided to help.” I grabbed an apple and peeled it. Kids preferred them that way.
“I wonder. . .” Enid cocked her head as if listening for something and then focused on me. “Never mind. Thanks for your help.”
“Kin I have an apple?” A little freckle-faced boy whose cowlick barely grazed the counter top begged.
“Of course!” I handed him a few slices. “And maybe you can bring some to your friends.”
He skipped away with a bowl. I’m not sure how many slices made it to his waiting circle of friends, but he seemed so happy.
Before we served all the fruit, the all clear sounded.
“Praise the Lord! The storm passed us by. The weatherman reports the tornado touched down in an isolated area east of town.” The pastor led us in singing “‘Til the Storm Passes Over,” our standard hymn after a tornado warning. After a simple prayer of thanks, he dismissed us to return home.
The storm had cooled the air somewhat, and I shivered in my sleeveless tank top. Audie pulled me close. “I promised I’d give you the shirt off my back, but that might scandalize the good folks of Word of Truth.” He whispered in my ear, and I giggled.
The subject of the tornado warning came up again after Audie and I settled into bed later that night. “Do you think anyone will guess the clue after tonight?” he asked.
“Eventually.”
~
Jenna climbed out of her new Jetta when I pulled up behind my store on Thursday morning. There go my plans. I had managed to arrive earlier than usual, hoping to hang the enlarged photos of Maria Tallchief and Lee Troup Johnson before customers started dribbling in. Maybe it was a good thing. Jenna could steady the ladder for me.
She grabbed the enlargements from the back seat. “Where do you want these?”
“Thanks. They’re going in the window display.” I hugged today’s bakery bag from Gaynor Goodies close to my chest and opened the door with my free hand. Jessie had baked pineapple upside down muffins today “just for you, Cici”.
“I’ll start on the window while you get the coffee going.” Jenna hurried ahead into the shop. I didn’t complain. Unlike Gilda, she had years of managing artwork. I trusted her with making an attractive display. She often helped me out.
I measured out enough of my favorite caramel-truffle decaf coffee for a pot, turned on the brewer, and joined Jenna in the front.
“What dresses are you putting out this week?” Jenna tapped the poster of the stately ballerina Tallchief in place with a hammer.
I showed her my choices—a gorgeous seafoam green cotton with embroidered flowers around the scoop neck, a pink sheath with lace insets, and a cream-colored sweater dress. Who cared that the ultra-feminine fashions were all designed for women with perfect figures? My pregnancy-rounded shape couldn’t handle the form-fitting waistlines common to the era, but the trapeze-style dress in a muted blue linen I wore today captured the essence of the decade.
“Ooh, lovely.” Jenna held up the seafoam dress and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “I might buy this one when you take down the display.”
It would look lovely on her, I had to agree.
After the coffee stopped gurgling in the backroom, I poured out two cups and added a muffin for us to share. “Okay. Enough chitchat. You came here with more on your mind than vintage dresses from the ’60s, no matter how beautiful they are. And—” I looked pointedly at the clock, which now read five minutes to nine. “You’d better talk fast, in case a customer expects to find me open on time.”
Jenna took a bite of her half muffin. In behavior unusual for her, she struggled to put whatever was troubling her into words. I could guess, but I wanted her to say it out loud. She opened her mouth, took a sip of coffee instead, and then tried again. “I need your help. There, I’ve said it.”
“Of course! We’re the Wilde sisters and we stick together.”
She twisted her lips. “Wait until you know what I’m going to ask you to do before you agree so readily.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “What is it?” A sinking feeling in my stomach that didn’t come from Juni
or settling on my bladder told me Hurricane Jenna was about to descend on me with another storm.
“I want you to look into Finella’s death. The police seem to think I’m a suspect. They won’t tell me anything.”
You think they’ll tell me anything?
She must have sensed my unspoken question. “You’re pretty chummy with Frances. And you’ve given her good tips in the past.”
Yeah, during those other three murder investigations I had hoped never to repeat.
“Reiner seems satisfied with the obvious. Girlfriend dead in boyfriend’s studio. Boyfriend missing. Ergo, boyfriend must be guilty. But in my heart of hearts, I can’t believe the man I—once loved—could commit murder.”
“It’s been twenty-three years. People do change,” I spoke gently.
”Et tu, Brute?”
“Hey, not fair! I expect Audie to throw Shakespeare at me—when he’s not quoting Oscar Wilde, that is—but not you!” I smiled to let her know I was joking. “If it means anything, Audie agrees with you.”
“So you’ll help?” She added an extra incentive. “It’s not just for me. I don’t want Dina to believe her father is a murderer.”
But what if he is? I kept my doubts to myself. I looked around my shop, my comfortable haven, the hopeful ’60s—at least, that’s how I thought of them, before Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. and Watergate. The sunny atmosphere faded to dark before the force of Jenna’s plea. How could I refuse?
Jenna sensed she was winning the argument. “You have a talent for looking into things. Please?”
I looked at my older sister, who in spite of numerous personal problems rarely asked for help. “The Wilde sisters stick together,” I repeated. “I’ll do what I can.”
I turned the sign to Open. Dina bounded in as soon as I unlocked it. She took one look at Jenna and me and squealed. “You agreed to help!”
I should have known that Jenna would have called for backup in case I didn’t agree immediately. Dina grabbed a muffin. At this rate, I might have to return to the bakery to buy some for my paying customers.
Dina pushed her rainbow-streaked lock of hair behind her ear and took out a notebook. “The place to start is with Ham Gaynor.”
“If you’ve already figured that out, what do you need me for?”
Jenna and Dina stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Well, because people tell you things. They don’t open up to us the same way,” Jenna said.
“And sometimes people won’t talk to me. I’m ‘the reporter.’” Dina made quote marks with her fingers.
I ran my tongue around my teeth thinking of an excuse to talk with Ham. I couldn’t use the excuse of visiting the bereaved; he and Finella were divorced. But didn’t Ham live with his sister these days? That was it. Jessie had asked for my advice about the Land Run Days costumes; I could call her and say I had found some useful information.
“You’ve thought of a way to do it.” Jenna grinned.
“I have,” I agreed.
My sisters took off for their jobs. I considered calling Enid to see if she could run the store for a few hours that afternoon, since Jessie closed up shop about 2 every day. But Enid saved me the trouble by waltzing into the store about 9:30. She really looked like she was dancing, something our pastor’s wife had never done in public to my knowledge. I wondered what made her so happy.
“I figured out the first clue!” She waved a piece of paper in her hand. “The tornado warning last night got me to thinking. That horn sure makes a loud noise. And it’s located at the ‘gateway’ to the city, out there by city hall. And I was right! And now I have the second clue.”
“‘The way of the sluggard is blocked with thorns, but the path of the upright is a highway.’” I quoted the clue, Proverbs 15:19, which I had memorized after the committee had discussed it so often. “Well done, Enid.”
She wagged a finger at me. “I know you can’t give me any hints. But I’m excited. I think I was the first one! Betty seemed a little surprised that I figured it out so quickly. What if I win the prize?”
“I hope you do.” The dear lady deserved it.
I decided against asking Enid to stay at the store. I would have a better chance of catching Ham at home after his job, that night. To celebrate Enid’ success, I pressed a Japanese scarf, perfect for autumn with its geometric designs of brown, orange and tomato red, on her. I knew she had a matching dress in her wardrobe.
“You shouldn’t do that.”
I insisted. Enid allowed herself very few luxuries and the gorgeous scarf was a garage sale find.
Traffic slowed down that afternoon. To my surprise, Dustin Murk came by.
“Us businesswomen should stick together, don’t you agree?” She held up a jar of honey. “My treat.”
Looking at the golden syrup made my mouth water. “Thank you so much. I’ll put it with the tea and coffee. People might like to use it for sweetener. I should come by and buy a jar to take home.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring a jar the next time I visit.” She extracted a small bag from her purse and pulled out a stack of business cards. “Would you mind putting these by the honey?”
Free advertising. Well, why not? “Of course.” I studied the card. She had named her business “Dustin’s Delights.” “For honey, jams and other delights, contact Dustin Murk.” A floral arbor adorned the corner.
What brought Dustin into my store today? With her silver-blonde hair, smoky blue eyes and down-to-earth jeans, she didn’t look like the type who would wear vintage clothing on a regular basis. “Can I help you find something?” I queried.
“Just browsing.” She flashed a smile of overly white teeth in my direction. “Wilbert and I are thinking about holding a back-to-school hayride for the high schoolers, and I was thinking of using a vintage theme.”
“What a wonderful idea.” My mind teemed with possibilities, but one look at Dustin’s face told me she preferred working by herself. “I’ll be working on the window display if you see something you’re interested in.” I added the finishing touches while she browsed. She looked around for about an hour and promised to come back. In spite of her reserved manner, anyone who planned a special event for the town’s teens must have good qualities. I doubted many teens frequented the Murks’ honey and blacksmith business.
Before long, the work day ended. Since I usually went by the theater on the way, I didn’t think Gilda would notice if I stopped by Ham’s first. I did call Audie.
“How are my girls today?”
“Junior and I are just fine, thank you.” I smiled at our ongoing joke. “I was calling to let you know I won’t come by the theater this afternoon. I’m stopping by Jessie’s house, since she asked for some advice on this year’s Land Run Days celebration.”
“Tonight? I thought you were going to meet with her on Saturday. You’re not trying to escape Mother, are you?” Audie said it with a teasing note in his voice.
If only that were the reason. I counted under my breath. Should I tell him I hoped to speak with Ham as well? Yes, I should. Audie had kept an important secret from me right before our wedding, and after we worked that out, we both agreed never to do that again.
“No-o.” I drew the word out. “The truth is that I want to speak with Ham, and I’m hoping he’ll be there.”
“Ham Gaynor?” I could almost hear Audie’s mental wheels clicking. “Finella’s ex.” He reached the correct conclusion. “You’re looking into her murder, aren’t you?”
“Jenna practically begged me on her knees. She’s worried that the Chief won’t look past Brad as the obvious suspect. And she doesn’t want Dina thinking her father is a murderer. They’re my sisters, Audie.” I silently pled with him to understand.
“When you put it that way.” Audie laughed a little. “How can I say no? I fell in love with Cecilia Wilde, sleuth extraordinaire. I don’t want you to change. Hey.” His voice brightened. “Do you want me to come along?” Audie had partnered me on my previous de
tective endeavors.
“Sorry, Charlie. They might suspect something is up if you come along. After all, Jessie didn’t invite you to her planning party.”
“No, she just expects me to produce a Tony-award quality play on the history of Grace Gulch. Speaking of which, I’ve been digging into the Wilde family history. I’ve uncovered some interesting stories. Very interesting.”
“Oh, well, we’ve always been a bit Wilde.” We shared a comfortable laugh. “You’ll have to tell me about it later.” We said goodbye. I printed out some pictures I had located on the internet as an excuse to visit Jessie, and headed out the door.
Five minutes later, I pulled up in front of Jessie’s comfortable bungalow. Kitchen curtains floated in the breeze as the evening air flowed in through open windows.
“And that’s what you’ll tell any nosy bodies who come poking around. You understand?” Ham’s loud voice carried clearly to the driveway. He sounded angry enough to strike his sister.
I sped up my steps.
8
Regardless of Larry Grace’s poor reputation, Bob and Mary Grace provided the foundling town of Grace Gulch with everything needed for a solid future. They funded a library, built the Orpheum, hosted Sunday services at the ranch until they called a preacher, and started up a town library.
In fact, the Graces were fruitful in every way but one. In an era when large families were common, Mary gave birth to her first child after ten years of marriage, their daughter Louella. Fifteen years and several miscarriages passed before their son and heir Roland joined the family.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Thursday, September 14
I checked the side door to Jessie’s house. It was unlatched, and I walked in. Didn’t an unlocked door imply permission to enter?
Spicy smells bordering this side of singed emanated from the stove. Jessie dangled a spoon over a bubbling pot of some kind of soup, maybe chili, instead of stirring it. Ham, at least a foot taller than his sister, stood about three inches away from her face, close enough to crush her nose. The fading sunlight blazed in his red hair.
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder Page 5
