The next morning, I arrived late at the store because of my doctor’s appointment—he said Junior and I were doing fine. Someone had slipped an envelope under the door. I started up my first pot of coffee and set out muffins leftover from Gilda’s breakfast feast. I hoped Jessie wouldn’t get word of my defection.
The envelope had no return address and was addressed simply to “Cici Howe.” Curious. I opened it and an ugly sense of déjà vu swept over me.
“Stop asking questions about Brad Merriman or suffer the consequences—you and your baby.”
I sank into my chair and hit speed dial number one—Audie’s office. The five seconds it took for him to pick up felt like five years.
“What did the doctor say?” Gilda had convinced Audie the bee sting meant trouble for Junior.
“We’re fine. But—” I kept from my voice steady through sheer will power. “—can you come over here? Now?”
“On my way.”
I heard the squeaking of Audie’s chair as he stood up.
“What’s happened?” His shoes padded across the floor.
I stared at the paper in my hand. “It’s something I have to show you. Just get here as quick as you can, okay?” I disconnected and held the paper up to a lamp as if it contained a hidden message.
Two months before our wedding, threatening emails had flooded Grace Gulch. The killer struck twice before capture, once in my store. But somehow this single sheet of paper scared me more than all of that. The specific, personal nature of the threat to me and my baby terrified me.
The drive from Audie’s office at the MGM to my store usually took five minutes. He made it in less than three. The morning light caught his pale blond hair and turned him into my avenging angel. Some of my worry faded.
“What on earth is going on?” He demanded as soon as he set a foot in the door. “What has you so upset, if it’s not the baby?”
I handed him the paper.
“Stop asking. . .consequences.” Audie sank to his knees beside my chair and took me in his arms. I clung to him as if he was my personal safety guarantee. He didn’t question or scold me, didn’t speak at all. Together, we were strong.
The doorbell jingled and I remembered my store was open for business. We broke apart. I went through the routine of waiting on the customer—a young mother looking for a unique costume for her little girl. By the time I rang up the sale, my panic attack had settled into mild worry.
“Are you ready to drop the investigation?” Audie asked. He put a cup of water into the microwave.
I shook my head. “How can I? Dina and Jenna are counting on me.” “I was afraid you’d say that.” The microwave dinged, and Audie added sugar and a tea bag. “But promise me you’ll take precautions. Let me come with you.”
“I’ll tell you where I’m going. But I wasn’t doing any investigating yesterday.” I couldn’t think of anything I had done to warrant a threat.
“If someone is threatening you, you must have hit a nerve somewhere. Tell me what you did yesterday.”
“I already told you.” Over dinner, where Gilda had whipped up some honey wheat rolls.
“I’ll listen with different ears now that somebody’s threatened you. Tell me everything”
So I told him about every person who stopped by the store in the morning, including the UPS delivery man. About the residents and staff at the nursing home. “I don’t think it’s any of them.”
“Did anything happen at the Murks?”
“I’m not sure. I was lost in a daze, sorting through boxes. You know what I’m like when you get me around a bunch of old clothes.”
Audie smiled. He did know. He sometimes jested he came second place in my heart, behind my passion for old fashions.
“You remember our guess that the crucible might refer to the smithy? I talked with Wilbert about door hinges. I asked him if he had ever talked with Brad, one artist to another. He said no.” I remembered his reaction to my suggestion that he teach a class at the community college. “He acted strange when I mentioned Noah and the art classes at the college.”
Audie shook his head. “It’s too bad that Dina connected up with him. Drugs are bad business.”
We needed to do an intervention, but my mind skipped down a rabbit trail. “A car of teens came by to see Dustin. Danielle was with them. You know, the girl I told you about.”
“Teenagers, buying honey? That’s odd.”
I shrugged my shoulders. Stranger things had happened. “The thing is, I have no better idea of what happened to Finella or where Brad might be than I ever did. I’m being threatened and I haven’t figured out a single thing.”
“You’ve seen something that points to the truth. You just don’t know what it is yet. Maybe a good night’s rest will help you sort it out.” Audie massaged my shoulders, and I was ready for a nap.
Dina burst through the door at that moment. “I wanted you to be the first to hear the news!”
“Brad’s back?” That seemed unlikely in light of the note I had received.
“No.” Her exuberance slipped. “But the police arrested Ham Gaynor this morning. I just got back from filing the story at the Herald.”
“What? When? How?” I sounded like a reporter spouting the five w’s.
“They couldn’t give me all the details, but they say new evidence came to light—as in the murder weapon—and they broke Ham’s alibi with Jessie.”
Why did I choose this morning to skip my usual stop at Gaynor Goodies? I could have heard the news firsthand.
“Ham admits he struck Finella but he claims she was still alive when he left her. I don’t have any more details.”
Surely by now the pathologist had determined whether she died from the blow to her head or from the fire. The police were keeping that juicy detail secret.
“Then how do we explain this?” Audie showed the threatening note to Dina. “Did Ham know about your trip to the Murks yesterday?”
“Not that I know of. But you know Grace Gulch. Nothing stays a secret around here, and I didn’t make a secret of my plans. Hey.” A bright idea flashed into my head and the words came out before I thought it through. “Now that the police have arrested Ham, maybe Brad will come back.”
21
Donald Gaynor, Elliott and Geraldine’s son, took up the academic life and made his Grandma Lizzie proud by earning a doctorate in education. In 1960 he donated most of their acreage to the town for the establishment of Grace Gulch Community College. In exchange, he was appointed dean for life. He never married, but Grace Gulch and all of Lincoln County continue to benefit from his vision for quality education at the local level.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Friday, September 22
“You sound like you thought my father was guilty. That he killed Finella.” The red in Dina’s face didn’t go well with her hair, as blue as an Oklahoma sky.
I should have bitten my tongue. “Of course not.” I backpedaled. “But he knew he was a suspect. We’ve been trying to figure out where he might have gone to hide.” I looked to Audie for confirmation.
My husband didn’t like to come between the Wilde sisters. But my hero rallied to my support. “Cici’s been busy chasing down clues from the mural. If they are clues. She stirred up somebody about something, and now she’s been threatened.” He drew himself to a military stance and threw out the next line like the seasoned actor he was. “And all of it to help you. So don’t accuse her of not believing in you or Brad.”
“That’s easy enough for you to say.” Righteous anger made every blue hair on Dina’s head bristle. There was no way I wanted a chance customer to walk in our on “discussion.” When the grandfather clock struck the half hour, I closed the store for an early lunch. Maybe I could conduct ordinary business in the afternoon.
Audie made a run to the Gulch for some sandwiches while I stayed with Dina. She didn’t shed any tears, but I could tell she was shaken.
“He’s right. I’m sorry.”
�
�Tell me about it.” Time for me to play big sister again.
“It’s not you. It’s just, you know, everything. I finally learn who my biological father is and then he disappears before we have a chance to talk and he could be hurt or dead and we can’t find him. And I. Want. To. Talk. With. Him.” Each word in the last sentence came out through clenched teeth.
She drew a deep breath and shook her head. “I refuse to cry. I overheard one of the officers calling Jenna. They want her to come in again. Do they still think she’s involved with drugs?” She shook her head at the absurdity. “Or do they think she was Ham’s accomplice? Did he say something that implicated her?”
I doubted the police would take anything Ham said at this point as gospel, but Dina’s imagination was running away with her. If I didn’t stop her, she might end up saying they suspected Jenna of plotting to assassinate the mayor. “Maybe they think she knows something about Finella’s history with Ham, since they were friends way back when.” I thrust the cup of tea Audie had fixed for me at her. “Here. Drink this.”
Dina took a sip and almost gagged. “It’s lukewarm. And sickeningly sweet.”
“Audie’s specialty. It was hot when he made it.” I placed a light hand on Dina’s shoulder. “Of course I’ll keep looking for Brad.”
Audie returned with a bag full of food as I made that statement. He nodded at me. “As long as she—and you too, Dina—don’t take any fool chances.”
I didn’t think I had done anything foolish. But a threat was a threat, whatever the cause. “Line up in pairs like at preschool? Always know where your partner is?” Audie didn’t smile at my joke.
“We’ve been traipsing around the Gulch as a group,” he said. “Anyone might have guessed about our inquiry into Finella’s death. Someone could have seen us at the town park, for instance.”
“I know.”
We finished our lunch in silence. Junior kicked me in the ribs. I wished he would delay his karate practice for awhile—say six or seven years. I was tired of being pushed around. Gilda made me feel like an outsider in my own kitchen. Jenna and Dina insisted I solve Finella’s murder—oh, and by the way, get them out of hot water yet again. At times even Audie’s playful insistence that our baby was a girl stressed me, making me feel as though he wouldn’t welcome a son.
I tried to please everybody and what thanks did I receive? A threatening note, and a sister accusing me of not believing in her father’s innocence. Something inside snapped.
“I have done everything I know how to do since Brad’s studio burned, endangering my baby along the way. I’m a stranger in my own kitchen. I’ve taken so much time investigating that I feel like a stranger in my own store. Now someone has threatened me and Junior.” I pushed to my feet. “I’m not going to take it any more. No sirree, Bob.”
I headed to the back room. Only the boxes from Dustin’s stood in the way and prevented me from slamming the door behind me. I shifted them out of my way and picked up my X-acto knife. The sound of the blade ripping through the tape on the first box echoed in stunned silence. Get moving. Rip. Do you expect them to follow you and beg your forgiveness? Maybe so, but a small voice suggested I owed them an apology.
I opened the carton. Everything from a wide Merry Widow creation dating back to the Edwardian era to a paisley turban that would have done Queen Elizabeth proud had been well-preserved, most in special hat boxes. Jenna would have a ball, if she was willing to talk with me after my recent behavior. One exceptional hat pin would fetch a good price all by itself. The quality of this collection would ordinarily keep me excited for days. Instead I kept glancing at the door, unable to concentrate.
Through the opening, I heard Dina’s voice rise in counterpoint to Audie’s measured tones. Once in awhile she laughed, suggesting Audie had thrown in a quote or two from Oscar Wilde. The grandfather clock struck half past noon. I finished sorting the hats, separating them by decades and jotting down prices. Next up, I found a box of men’s work clothes.
I hoped Dina or Audie would join me. When the front doorbell jingled, I felt as sad, as overused and abused as the dungarees I held in my hand. A soft knock preceded Audie’s appearance at the door. “Are you okay?”
I sat down on a folding chair so abruptly that my dress fluttered about my knees. My husband’s ash-blond hair fell into his eyes. It gave him a little boy, hangdog look, the hurt my words had inflicted reflected in his eyes. I opened my arms, and he scooped me out of the chair into a close embrace.
We held each other without speaking for a long minute. At length Audie cupped my face with his sensitive fingers and kissed me deeply. Then he drew back. “Tell me about Mother.”
I debated evading the question but decided against it. The compatibility questionnaire we had taken before our marriage had indicated we would need good conflict resolution skills. This was one of those times.
I sent up a prayer for wisdom and received a flash of inspiration. I grabbed a hat and stuck it on top of my head. As usual, my dandelion seed hair sprung out at odd angles.
“Do you remember how I used to fret about my hair?” I perched the hat at a ridiculous angle and batted my eyelashes in a stage imitation of a coquette. Audie laughed.
“How could I forget? You still spend an hour every morning trying to tame it.” He lifted a strand to his lips.
“Then a certain handsome theater director told me he liked the hair, he liked the look, he even liked me.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “Over time, I started to believe him. I married him.”
I removed the hat and patted down my hair before continuing. “Gilda makes me feel the way my hair used to. Inadequate. Like I don’t meet the standard for cooking or keeping house or taking care of you or—” I cradled the bump that sat firmly between us. “—being a good mother.” There, I had said it. “I don’t know if it’s her or me. Probably it’s a little bit of both.”
“She makes you doubt yourself.” Although he made it a statement, the timbre of his voice indicated he had never guessed my feelings.
All the things I could have, should have, said, choked in my throat. “Yes.”
“And you think I agree with her.” He made that jump without any further hints from me. My beloved husband.
I turned my face away so he couldn’t see the flush spreading across my cheeks. “Yes.”
Audie took me back into his arms and kissed me again. “You have always been the most amazing, wonderful woman in the world for me. And I know you’ll be a terrific mother. Look at the way you helped raise Dina.”
That comment forced a laugh from me. “Fine job I did with her. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in her doghouse at the moment.”
Audie waved my worry away. “Growing pains, that’s all. She’ll come around.” His face grew serious. “I’ll ask Mother to leave. Tomorrow, if you like.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I admit it’s nice to have supper waiting at home, even if we have Chicago specialties night after night.” I attempted a smile. “And she’s been a big help around the store. And as you pointed out, she’s lonely.”
“Just tell me if you change your mind.”
We remained in place, our hearts speaking to each other without words. At last I relaxed. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“Shh, it’s okay. There’s nothing to forgive”
The clock struck one, reminding me I had a store to run. I started for the front door but paused. “Just one thing. I don’t want her in the delivery room with me. Just you. I can do without a blow by blow description of what she went through when you were born.”
“I promise.” Audie bussed my cheek and left, turning the sign to Open For Business as he walked out.
I loaded a rolling cart with boxes and returned to the showroom—in case anyone came in to shop. No one did right away, so I continued with a box of children’s clothes circa 1960, colorful madras, bib overalls and even a christening gown. The toys at the bottom of the box confirmed my suspicion of the presence of a boy and
a girl.
The girl’s prizes included a Barbie doll that looked like the original 1959 model vintage and a diary with pink daisies on the cover. The lock had long since given way. Nostalgia hit me. I had once confided all my ten-year-old woes into a volume much like this one, my worries about Jenna’s pregnancy and later, my delight in my new baby sister.
Dina. No longer the sweet baby who joined our family, but still my precious little sister. I needed to apologize, but not now when a customer might wander in.
The boy must have treasured his camping kit, complete with a still-working compass and a rusty Swiss Army knife. A square of folded yellow paper had been wedged into a Tonka truck.
Idly I opened the paper the boy had folded so carefully. He had drawn a crude map, complete with “x marks the spot.” I wondered what treasure he had buried. With landmarks like “dog house” and “tire swing” long gone by now, no one would ever know. I’d show it to Dina and we’d share a laugh. Or maybe she’d want to write a special interest article about the last Kirkendall children for the Herald.
I dialed her number before I lost my nerve. The phone rang forever—a full ten times—before she picked up. “Dina here.” I could have frozen ice cream in the depths of her vocal chords.
“Look, I know we need to talk. I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” I swallowed. “But I’ve found something I think will interest you. For the paper. Can you come by the store this afternoon?”
“What is it?”
I described my find, and Dina agreed it might make an interesting piece. “I’ll come by about three.”
The timing—right after school, one of my busiest times of the day—was no accident, I was sure. But I wouldn’t complain. “Great. See you then.”
Dina ran in to pick up the children’s toys and left while I took care of yet another high school girl seeking a vintage prom dress.
The pained smile on Dina’s face left me dialing her number again that night and a few times on Saturday. She’s out with Noah, I told myself. What normal single young woman hung around at home on a weekend?
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder Page 14
