Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder

by Darlene Franklin

  “That poor, sad girl.” Jean’s regret came through the wire. “I had her in my class. She never quite fit in. And she’s not the only one of my former students doing drugs, from what I’ve heard. Of course I will talk with her teachers. Thanks for your concern.”

  “What do you know about drugs at the high school? It’s not happening at the middle school, is it?” Of course I had heard about elementary kids using drugs, but please God, not in Grace Gulch.

  “Not yet. Thank the Lord. But we’ve had meetings with the high school faculty, educating us about warning signs. If the dealers aren’t caught, it will filter down to us eventually.”

  “Do you have any idea who—” I let the question dangle.

  “I know some of the students. But I have no idea who’s selling.”

  We said goodbye and I reminded myself that the drugs weren’t my problem, but now the issue had a face—two faces, actually. Noah Brodie and a teenage girl named Danielle. If my investigation into Finella’s murder and Brad’s disappearance shed any light on the problem, I would gladly tell Chief Reiner every detail.

  16

  Wallace Wilde was one of a handful of ranchers to ride out the Dust Bowl with his land intact. By the end of the ’30s, the Crazy W sat beside the expanded Circle G.

  Wallace’s son Woodrow, or “Woody,” followed in his father’s footsteps. He stayed at the Crazy W and fell in love with Sandra Ruske, Ned Waller’s granddaughter. Pearl Harbor interrupted their wedding plans. Woody Wilde excelled as a bomber ace in the Pacific Theater. Sandy served as a cadet nurse with the Public Health Service, providing health services to several bases across Oklahoma.

  After Woody was demobbed in 1946, he married Sandy and added to the baby boom era with the arrival of their son Leonard in 1948.

  From A History of Grace Gulch

  Monday, September 18

  My mind settled about Danielle and her suspected drug problem, I locked the store and headed home. Gilda had made it clear she expected us home at 6:30 on the dot.

  Heavenly smells greeted me at the door. It reminded me of the one time I had gone to an Oklahoma City Redhawks baseball game, the Triple-A affiliate of the Texas Rangers. Hotdogs, yes, but with a feeling of fresh air and excitement and spice in the mix.

  Of course I didn’t have a rotary cooker in my kitchen, but Gilda had announced she would “make do” with my microwave.

  Microwaved hotdogs? The very thought made me want to gag, but Audie promised they could win a contest for best-of-show. If the smell indicated taste, he was right.

  My husband dashed into the living room and welcomed me home with a kiss. “How was your afternoon?”

  An image of Danielle jumped into my mind. “I’ll tell you later. Let’s not keep your mother waiting.”

  Audie practically danced into the kitchen. I had never seen him so eager for one of my meals. Will you feel the same way about my cooking some day? I asked Junior the silent question.

  The assembled ingredients looked ordinary enough. Gilda had chased around town for “just the right” brand of hotdog buns. Our usual grocery store didn’t have what she wanted. She needed buns with either sesame seeds or poppy seeds, she didn’t care which, and she didn’t warm them. Plump all-beef Pontino hotdogs sat inside each bun. Small dishes of relish a shade of bright green I had never seen before, mustard, chopped onion, thin slices of tomato, sweet peppers, even a shaker of celery salt. The only thing missing was catsup.

  “I thought you would like to choose your toppings.” Gilda handed me a bun with a hotdog fresh from the microwave.

  Audie had already taken three dogs and was adding a spoonful from every dish.

  “Really, all I usually have on my hotdogs is catsup.” I reached for the refrigerator.

  Shock akin to announcing I had gone into labor registered on both faces, and Audie raced to block the refrigerator door. “No catsup on a Chicago dog. Ever.” He informed me solemnly.

  Weird. I might as well try a little bit of everything.

  Audie chomped down on half his first bun. Mouth still full of food, he managed to gasp, “Now, this is what a real hotdog should taste like.”

  Grabbing a glass of iced tea—somehow I was afraid the spicy flavor would curdle milk—I sat down at the table and took my first bite. The skin of the hotdog popped in my mouth, and heavenly flavor flooded my senses.

  “You like?”

  If only Gilda didn’t sound so smug. She must not think much of a daughter-in-law who didn’t even know how to fix a simple hotdog.

  By the time we pushed away from the table more than an hour later—full of hotdogs and tea and ice cream—my bed was calling me. I told Audie about Danielle while he massaged my feet, then we both made it an early night. Gilda banged around in the kitchen for awhile, but I pushed away the nagging guilt over leaving her to clean up.

  I woke up a bit earlier than usual and made it to the kitchen before Gilda. After last night’s feast, a bowl of cereal or a slice of toast would suffice for breakfast. But if my mother-in-law arrived first, she would insist on a full meal of bacon and eggs and maybe even pancakes. “You’re eating for two, you know,” she’d tell me. I knew my weight gain was expected, but I didn’t want to overdo.

  I had a more important reason to hurry. Jenna had called last night to say Brad’s journal had dried. I wanted to look at it while I was at home, away from prying eyes. Maybe I could take it to work and leave it in the office for a sneak peek every now and then.

  I stopped by Gaynor Goodies for the usual treats for my store. Jessie had recovered her style. Today she wore an apron covered with autumn leaves and a uniform in an impossible shade of orange. I would never put that outfit together, but it worked on her. “I’ve made some pumpkin muffins,” she told me. “Getting in the mood for fall.”

  I bought a dozen. “I hear Suzanne Jay figured out the second clue.”

  “That’s what they say. With that Noah Brodie and Enid right on her heels.”

  Since she mentioned Noah, I might as well walk through the door. “Wasn’t Noah friends with Finella when they were in high school? You know, one of the Three Musketeers? Do you know if they stayed in touch?”

  Jessie packaged the muffins in a bakery box. “Not while she was married to Ham. They kind of stayed to themselves.”

  Meaning he was too jealous to let any other man within ten miles of his wife. “But after the divorce?”

  “I really don’t know. As far as I know, Finella worked at the Shop ’n’ Save and went to church and didn’t do much else. What does Jenna say?” Jessie printed out a receipt and slapped it on the box.

  “She didn’t stay in touch either.”

  I decided to stop asking questions before Jessie started wondering why I was poking into Finella’s past. No need to provide fodder for the town’s rumor mill.

  The morning passed quietly at the store. A young mother wandered in, hoping to get a bead necklace at a bargain. We haggled a little over the price, but she left satisfied with her finds. I studied the ads in the Sunday papers, not only the Herald, but others around Lincoln County. I wanted to replenish my stock before I left on maternity leave. One classified caught my eye. The Murks were holding a yard sale, probably to clear out items accumulated by old Kirkendall over the years. Maybe they wanted to clear out before the hayride, scheduled for the same night. I circled it with a note to call.

  I ignored the siren song of Brad’s journal long enough to restock my ’60s clothing and place an order online for a few things to round out my selection. By mid-morning I had finished, and I put a placard by the register that read Ring Bell for Service.

  Even though I didn’t have the actual journal, Brad had allowed me to photocopy a few pages. I had read them before, but never with treasure in mind. For a reputed bank robber and scoundrel, Larry Grace wrote with surprising eloquence. In a way, they reminded me of the letters his brother Bob had written to his fiancé Mary. I had read them when we were chasing down Penn Hardy’s killer.
Larry described the flora and fauna of the Gulch in exquisite detail, including small sketches of things that caught his eye. Brad must have inherited his artistic talent from old Larry. I especially liked his rendering of a scissor-tailed flycatcher soaring in the sky. The flashing black and white patterns of its wings must have looked like flying scissors to those early settlers; no wonder they gave it its name.

  I reminded myself that I was searching for clues to Brad’s hiding place, if he had one. Nothing in the pages I had read impressed me as clue-worthy, however. I doubted he would give me copies of pages that held secrets.

  Other pages hinted at Larry’s mercenary side. He detailed the extent of Bob’s holdings, down to the number of new calves and the manufacturer of Mary’s china. On one visit, the couple celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. Bob gave Mary the Grace garland to honor the special event. In spite of Larry’s snide remarks about the cost of the “trinket,” I sensed he envied his brother’s happy home life. He sketched the garland in such detail that a goldsmith could reproduce the item. Something about the sketch struck a wrong note, but I couldn’t place it.

  The bell rang and startled me out of my reverie. The hour was approaching noon. I locked up the pages and went out to the front. Gilda was waiting for me. Oh, boy.

  She held up a bag. “I thought we could visit while we eat lunch. Audie’s busy getting ready for that next play.”

  “How lovely.” Why did “visit” have an ominous sound? I chided myself. She sounded lonely. I put the closed for lunch sign in the window and joined Gilda in eating a fairly ordinary bologna sandwich.

  “I found some lovely, all-beef meet in the deli department.”

  Of course. Nothing else would do for someone from Chicago. It was extra tasty.

  “That’s a lovely dress.” Gilda gestured at my outfit, a tent style no maternity clothes could avoid, whatever the era, with a scoop neckline and sleeves with an elasticized cuff. “It reminds me of my mother, when she was expecting my sister.”

  Ah-hah! Gilda’s family. Audie’s family. “You just have the one sister, right?”

  “Yes. And after she went to college, she never lived at home again. I wasn’t fortunate like you are, with all your family so close.”

  Gilda thought me lucky? I didn’t expect that. “It can be stifling at times.”

  She managed a sympathetic expression. “Your sisters certainly manage to be, uh, dramatic. But you’ve made a lovely place for yourself here.” Did she understand my desire to do something apart from being one of the Wilde girls from the Crazy W? To establish an identity apart from the “quiet” sister compared to my flamboyant siblings?

  Gilda finished her sandwich and disposed of the wrappings. She looked into my display windows. “I never realized Maria Tallchief was from Oklahoma. I had heard about her connection with ballet, of course.”

  Of course. Gilda probably had season tickets to the ballet and symphony.

  “Your equestrian is more what I would expect from Oklahoma.”

  Did I detect a hint of self-mockery?

  Gilda walked over to the display case showing the Grace Garland. “I saw this when I was in here the other day. It says that the man who founded Grace Gulch gave it to his wife?”

  “For their twenty-fifth anniversary.”

  Gilda looked at me, a half-smile on her lips. “Absolutely lovely.”

  A couple of minutes before one, Dina knocked at the door, and I let her in. “I stopped by on my lunch hour.” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “I have it! Do you have time. . .?”

  Not now. I mouthed the words. I didn’t want to discuss Brad’s journal in front of Gilda. “Oh, look, it’s time for me to open up again.” I pushed myself out of my chair and turned the sign around on the door. A rosy face pressed against the glass, and I jumped back.

  The doorbell jingled, and Enid came in.

  “Goodness, you startled me!” Junior jumped around as if he agreed.

  “Why, hello, Dina. Mrs. Howe.” Enid marched over to the glass case. “I thought so.” She looked at me and recited “‘She will set a garland of grace on your head and present you with a crown of splendor.’ May I see the Grace Garland, please?”

  17

  Leonard Wilde served in Vietnam for four years before settling back at the Crazy W ranch. He married an army nurse like his father had, Penny Rollins, bringing her home to Oklahoma when he demobbed. They had two daughters, Jenna and Cecilia. This author is proud to have been adopted by Leonard and Penny. Unfortunately, cancer claimed Penny’s life in the mid-’90s.

  After a few years running the Wilde West Art Gallery in Taos, New Mexico, Jenna Wilde has returned to Grace Gulch as the Director of the Art Museum in the new Center for the Arts. Cici Wilde opened Cici’s Vintage Clothing in downtown Grace Gulch in 2003 and married Audwin Howe, now director of the Center for the Arts as well as manager of the Magda Grace Mallory Theater.

  From A History of Grace Gulch

  Tuesday, September 19

  The words had no sooner left Enid’s mouth when Suzanne Jay blew through the door. Her mouth formed a perfect “o” at seeing her friend had arrived before her. She repeated the formula to earn her right to the next clue.

  “Are we first?” Enid asked. How typical of Enid, to say “we” when she had earned first place all on her own.

  “You are indeed.” I beamed at them. “Well done.”

  “May I see the locket?” Enid spoke in a timid voice.

  “Why not? You’ve earned the right.” I unlocked the case. The fine filigree of the leaf-like chain always impressed me. I had never seen anything so unique or fine.

  No man could have understood the fascination the garland held for us. Delicate sculpting, fine details that resembled the first rose of spring, it looked like King Midas himself had touched it and turned a real flower into gold.

  “May I?” Enid gestured to the clasp on the locket.

  I nodded, and the locket sprung open, revealing miniscule photos facing each other. I could trace Cord Grace’s curly hair and strong chin in Bob’s likeness, and Mary reminded me of Magda Grace Mallory’s timeless beauty.

  Dina snapped a picture of the two women exclaiming over the locket.

  “Hey, don’t give away the clue!” I reminded her.

  “I won’t! But I can use pictures in a feature about the hunt after it’s over.”

  I gave her a thumbs-up.

  “How romantic.” Suzanne sighed. “But. . .you have another clue for us?”

  “You’ve figured out the first three clues in a week. I’m impressed. Only one to go. It might be the hardest yet, but I’m sure you’re up to the challenge.” I smiled at my two friends. “The clue is: ‘Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fattened calf with hatred.’ Proverbs 15:17. May the best woman win.”

  Gilda took the locket. As Suzanne and Enid headed for the door, I caught sight of a skinny teen skulking outside the door—Danielle. I knew some seniors got to leave school early; that might explain her presence at midday. “Enid, could I speak to you for a minute before you go?”

  She wished Suzanne good luck and came back inside. “Yes?”

  “That girl out there on the sidewalk.” I paused, uncertain how to put my concern into words.

  “Danielle Newton.” Enid slipped on a pair of glasses and looked more closely. “She’s lost some weight. Why girls today think they need to be as thin as a model. . .”

  I shook my head. “There’s more to it than that.” I explained my suspicion about her drug use. “If you know her, or her family, can you speak to them?”

  “How sad. I know her mother. Irene Newton, nice woman, a single mother, lives at Grace Gulch Condominiums. I’ll stop by and talk with her.”

  Enid probably knew Irene’s birthday, too. She was that kind of woman.

  “That’s wonderful. I asked Jean Johnson if she could get one of Danielle’s teachers to talk with her as well, but it can’t hurt to have more than one person involved.�
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  “You’re a dear. Going out of your way to help the poor girl. Not everyone would bother.” Enid patted my hand and jotted something in a small notebook. “So the next clue is Proverbs 15:17. I’ll have to think that one over. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Howe. Dina.”

  She left, and I wondered if she went straight to the Newtons’ home from my store.

  Gilda had turned the locket over and was studying the back. “Do you know what the inscription means?”

  “There’s an inscription?” Dina leaned in for a better look, focused her camera and snapped a picture. “‘To Mary, my garland of grace, 1.25’ How romantic.”

  “Does 1.25 refer to a date?” Gilda asked.

  “Her birthday.” Dina said.

  “Their wedding anniversary.” I answered at the same time. We knew the history of Grace Gulch’s first couple.

  “Which is it? Birthday or anniversary?” Gilda sounded confused. Dina gestured for me to tell the story.

  “Bob staked his claim during the 1891 land run. That was in September. A year later, he had proved up his claim, and he wed his beloved Mary on her birthday, the following January.”

  “Do you know the birthdays and anniversaries of everyone in Grace Gulch?” Gilda sounded amused.

  My mind flashed to Danielle, and how little I knew about her. “Not really. But I researched the history of the garland when Mayor Ron loaned it to the store.” In fact, if Gilda had read the placard by the display, she would have known the details.

  “And I’ve been researching it for the play. Don’t worry.” Dina must have seen the frightened look on my face. “We’re not planning to reenact the gunfight again. We had enough of that to last a lifetime. But I did think I would include a bit more of the romance between ol’ Bob and Mary.” She wouldn’t say any more on the subject. She and Audie had kept the play under wraps for the time being.

  “Living history.” Gilda handed me the garland. “I might as well go to the house. Unless you need me here?” She must be lonely. She just lost her husband, after all.