by Gayle Leeson
“I’ve spoken with the principal, who has been getting calls from parents all morning, and the board has decided to proceed with the production,” she continued. “It was mentioned that some sort of memorial to Sandra Kelly could be made in the program, but that’s something for others to decide and deal with—not I. My concern is the production itself. May we still rely on you, Ms. Tucker?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Very well. Since play practice was cut short yesterday evening, there will be a makeup rehearsal on Saturday afternoon. Will you be in attendance?”
“I’ll be there,” I said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
I grinned and shook my head as I ended the call. Yes? Who says that? Couldn’t she have said, ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you too’? Then again, maybe she didn’t.
I considered going across the hall to tell Connie that the play was going forward, but when I opened the reception room door, I saw that she had customers in her shop. I closed the door and returned to the atelier. I supposed Marielle would let her mother know about the play. Plus, I didn’t want to keep reminding Connie about Sandra Kelly’s death.
{ }
Chapter Nine
J
ason texted me shortly after noon to let me know he was on his way with subs and chips. I asked if there was enough to include Connie, and he sent back a reply that he’d gotten extra in case any of the other vendors wanted to join us.
“That’s really thoughtful of him,” I said aloud.
Max interrupted my musing with, “Fiddle sticks!”
“What is it?” I hadn’t even known she was back from wherever she’d disappeared to.
“They’re getting out of the car,” she said, hands anchored on her slim hips.
“Who?”
“Jason and that tomato!”
“Carla?” I asked. “I hadn’t realized she was with him.”
“Oh, she’s with him, all right. And wait until you see what she’s wearing.” Raising her fists and screwing up her face, Max said, “I’m gonna haunt her.” She warmed to the thought. “I’m going to haunt the tee-total dickens out of that Jezebel so that she never wants to come here again.”
“How?” Did I really want to know the answer to that? Yes. “What are you planning to do?”
“I’m not sure. But I’ll figure something out.” She punctuated her words with a strong nod. “Wait and see if I don’t.”
Before I could try to dissuade her—or decide if I wanted to, for that matter—Jason stepped into the atelier and said, “Lunch is here!”
I pushed back from my chair and stood, thinking Max couldn’t do much harm. It wasn’t as if Carla could see her. And Max couldn’t touch the woman. I figured my biggest worry would be restraining myself from laughing at any of her antics.
Stepping into the kitchen, I saw what Max meant about Carla’s outfit. She wore a cropped white sweater that fell off her shoulders and tight black capri pants. She looked lovely, but I could certainly imagine her making Frank lose his gum again should he be chewing any today.
“I’m going to see if anyone wants to have lunch with us,” Jason said, giving me a kiss on the cheek before he left me alone with Carla in the kitchen.
“Nice to see you again, Carla. Jason said he thought Sandra Kelly was a client of yours.”
“Yes, she was. I think Jason is absolutely precious to remember that after all these years. And he was an angel to come pick me up to have lunch with all of you so I wouldn’t have to be alone dwelling on her death all day.”
What? The woman doesn’t have clients? Or did she cancel them for the day? “You and Sandra were close then?”
She nodded. “Sandy had been seeing me for years for her sciatica. She was sweet—paid when services were rendered and always added a generous tip.”
That didn’t sound like a friend to me—more like a loyal client. I tried again. “The people I’ve spoken with who knew her from school either loved her or hated her. There didn’t seem to be much middle ground where she was concerned.”
“Lump me into the first category,” Carla said.
I was only half startled when a man’s scream emanated from the atelier, but I had to lower my head and turn away slightly to hide my grin.
Carla gasped. “What was that?”
Not knowing what else to do, I played dumb. “What?”
“That noise. You have to have heard it.”
“Well...um...whatever it was, it wasn’t me.” I went to the refrigerator and opened the door.
The next thing I heard was a man saying, “Go on now—git! Git on up out of here!”
Pressing my lips together, I surveyed the contents of the fridge for a few seconds to hide my face from Carla. “How are you doing that?” I whispered to Max.
“You had to have heard that!” Carla was obviously getting flustered.
“I’ve been playing with that video movie thingy,” Max said, appearing atop the fridge. “It has everything you could possibly want on there. Fascinating.” With a wink, she disappeared.
That wink said she wasn’t done—not by a longshot.
“Hello.” It was Connie.
“Hi,” I said. “Would either of you care for a soft drink?”
“I have tea,” Connie said, “but thank you.”
“Jason got me a bottle of water from the restaurant where he got the sandwiches,” Carla said, removing the bottle from her purse.
“Does your joining us mean you’re leasing the space upstairs?” Connie asked.
“No. It would be too hard from some of my clients to navigate the stairs. Too bad this place doesn’t have an elevator.” She pulled out a chair and sat. “It stinks that this place is stuck in the past, right? Jason and I have been good friends for ages, and I’d have enjoyed working right across the hall from him.”
And that was when Frank Sinatra—or a reasonable facsimile thereof—belted out from the depths of Carla’s purse that the lady was a tramp.
I burst out laughing. There’d been no way to repress that one. Thankfully, Connie laughed too. Max, of course, had resumed her seat atop the refrigerator and was kicking her legs and clapping.
“Is that your phone’s ringtone?” Connie asked Carla.
Jason and Ford entered the kitchen as Carla said, “No, it most certainly is not.”
“What’s going on?” Jason looked from Carla to me.
“We heard Frank Sinatra singing and thought it might be Carla’s phone,” I said.
Carla ran a well-manicured hand over her forehead. “I’ve been hearing strange things ever since I got here.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And I’ve been with you the whole time. Are you pranking me?”
“No. Even if I was a gifted ventriloquist, I could never hope to sound so much like Frank Sinatra. It was as if Old Blue Eyes himself were right here in this kitchen.” My eyes flew to Max. “He wasn’t, was he?” Chuckling to cover for my blunder, I looked at Jason. “I mean, you and I have spoken about the possibility of ghosts inhabiting these old buildings.”
“That’s nonsense,” Jason said. He turned to Carla. “I believe you’re on edge over the death of your client.”
“That wasn’t the disembodied voice of a ghost,” Connie said. “I’m positive it came from your purse, Carla. Maybe you bumped your mp3 player or something.” She sat beside Carla. “I’m sorry you’ve suffered a recent loss.”
“Her client was Sandra Kelly,” I said.
“Really? What a coincidence,” Connie said. “Sandy and I were friends in college, lost touch, and then reconnected when my daughter became interested in drama and we saw last year’s production of Dracula at Winter Garden High.”
“Connie found Ms. Kelly’s body last night,” Ford blurted out as he sat on the other side of Carla.
That’s our sensitive Ford.
Did I imagine Carla’s flash of irritation at Ford’s taking the empty seat? Had she hoped Jason would
sit there? If so, she hid her feelings almost immediately.
She squeezed Connie’s hand briefly. “It must’ve been awful to find her that way. I can’t even imagine. Has the cause of death been released yet?”
“Not that I’m aware,” Connie said softly.
Jason sat at the other side of the table, and I took the seat next to him. As he unwrapped his sandwich, he asked me, “How was your morning?”
I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Despite the conversation carrying on around us and the looks Carla was throwing his way, Jason let me know he was thinking about me.
“It was busy, so that was nice. I also got a call from Mrs. Berry—the play is still on.”
“I’m glad,” Connie said. “Marielle and the other students will be relieved.”
“I am too.” Ford was eager to put in his two cents. “I’m looking forward to helping Dave create those sets, especially the library.”
“Mrs. Berry mentioned there would be some sort of tribute to Sandra Kelly in the play program,” I said.
“That’s nice.” Connie sipped her tea. “She deserves that.”
“She does,” Carla said. “After a life riddled with conflict, I hope she now has some peace.”
I wanted to know what Carla was talking about. After all, despite not being well-liked by some people, Sandra Kelly had appeared to be a woman who had her life together. But this wasn’t the time or the place to ask Carla what she meant.
{ }
Chapter Ten
A
fter Jason left to take Carla back to wherever he’d found her and to keep a couple of appointments he had scheduled, I sat down with my sketchbook to work on a design for the footstool for Beauty and the Beast. I thought my best bet would to be to dress the actor in black from head to toe and have the footstool at the bottom of the costume—sort of the opposite of the candlestick. But how would I design something the kid could easily move around in? I needed something like a mermaid-type skirt but with more structure at the bottom.
Grabbing my laptop for inspiration, I learned that there were plenty of cute costume ideas for dressing a dog as the enchanted footstool, but not so much for people. I finally found just the thing I was looking for—a Victorian double basket cage underskirt. Customized to hit around the actor’s knees, the footstool would flow out from the body and down to the floor. Now...who could help me make a bustle?
Before I could call Grandpa Dave and ask, Max popped in.
Hovering over my shoulder, she looked at the bustle on my screen. “Jeez, Louise! We’re not going back to those things, are we?”
“You wore a bustle?” I asked.
“No, and I wouldn’t want to.” She shuddered. “Imagine getting caught in a lightning storm wearing one of those things. You could get your bum fried off.”
“I’m going to use it to make a footstool costume for the play.”
“Oh...that’s fine then,” she said. “Just don’t let the kid go out during a storm.”
“I won’t. I promise.” I sketched out a bustle and grabbed my measuring tape to see what dimensions I’d need. “By the way, how did you make it sound as if Frank Sinatra was standing in our kitchen?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “That was the berries, wasn’t it? I had it play from Carla’s phone. The first sound effects I did, I played on my tablet—I’ve been practicing at night when no one’s here—but I wanted that one to come through loud and clear, so I used Carla’s phone.”
“It certainly was loud and clear.”
“And, in my opinion, the lady is a tramp,” Max said, laughing again. “I thought it was particularly funny when you asked me if he was really there.”
“You threw me!”
“I know. You recovered well from the faux pas though.” She sat on the worktable where Jasmine had leapt up to see her better. “Hello, darling.”
“Carla is certainly beautiful, isn’t she?” I hated hearing the insecurity in my voice, but I couldn’t help it. Carla looked like a movie star. I looked...like me.
“She’s no more beautiful than you,” Max said. “And I believe Jason made his preference clear.”
I didn’t say so, but I wished I could feel as optimistic about that as Max did. Before I could say anything else, Ella Peterman came into the atelier.
“I saw that woman here during lunch,” she said. “What was she doing here? Is she planning on leasing the shop upstairs?”
“She’s definitely not leasing it—she told us so at lunch.” I was eager to put Ella’s mind at ease—not only because should she and Frank leave, Carla would likely pounce on their vacant spot, but that was one reason.
“That’s a relief. Frank and I like it here at Shops on Main, and we aren’t ready to leave yet.”
“We aren’t ready for that either,” I said. “Never let anyone run you off from Shops on Main. We need you here, and we need Everything Paper.”
“I appreciate that.” Her shoulders slumped. “You probably think I’m a silly old woman.”
“Nonsense. You’re neither silly nor old.”
“I heard about Connie finding Sandra Kelly dead in her home.” She tsked. “I hate that so much. Connie is a delicate person, you know, and that sort of thing would take its toll on the least sensitive among us.”
“Did you know Sandra Kelly?” I asked.
“Sandra and her former husband attended our church for a couple of years. After their marriage broke up, neither ever came back to services. They were welcome, of course, but I imagine they were either afraid they’d run into each other there or the place held too many memories of the two of them together.”
“What did you think of her—Sandra, I mean?” I gave a half shrug. “The people at the school either liked her or didn’t. There didn’t seem to be much of a gray area insofar as their feelings about her were concerned.”
“Oh, I liked her well enough. Sandra tended to be more withdrawn and reserved than her husband—that’s why it was easier to befriend him.”
“Did you ever hear why the couple broke up?” I asked.
“Well, I’m not one to gossip, but—” She leaned forward.
“She might call herself an amateur, but she’s suiting up like a pro,” Max said.
“There were rumors of infidelity,” Ella continued.
“Oooh.” Max propped her chin on her fist. “That matches up with what you’ve already heard. Ask her if it was Sandra or her husband.”
“Which...” I hesitated. “Which spouse was rumored to have cheated?”
Ella furrowed her brow. “I believe it was Sandra.”
“I’m only asking because some of the kids at school were whispering about an alleged affair between Sandra Kelly and a Mr. Talbot,” I said.
Nodding, Ella said, “Talbot teaches math at the high school. That’s who I heard Sandra stepped out with, but I later heard that the Talbots reconciled.” She shrugged. “I guess not. Oh, well, I’d better get back to Frank.” She glanced at my laptop screen. “What’re you making?”
I explained that I was hoping to make some sort of cage-like bustle to use for one of the Beauty and the Beast costumes.
“I’ll send Frank back here,” she said. “If you need a cage or a fence built, he can do it.”
Before I could say I hated for either of them to go to any trouble, she was gone.
Max grinned. “There you go. Frank can do it.”
Ella had no more than closed the door to the atelier when Connie came through the door to the reception area and called out, “Amanda, are you in here?”
“Back here!”
She hurried into the atelier. “Reese Cranston, one of the detectives who worked on Mark Tinsley’s murder case called me.”
I got up, put an arm around her shoulders, and led her to the worktable. “Have a seat. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She dropped her face into her hands as soon as she was in the chair.
“Why?
What did he say?”
“The police think Sandra was murdered, and they want to question me further,” she said.
“Oh, Connie, they can’t believe you’d hurt Sandra—or anyone else.” I gently patted her back.
“They might,” Max said. “She did find the body.”
“And immediately called and reported it.” Rats. I knew better than to engage with Max when someone other than Grandpa Dave was present.
Connie lifted her head. “What?”
“I said, you immediately called the police and reported it when you found Sandra,” I said.
“No, I didn’t. I called the ambulance,” she said.
“Even better.” I spread my arms slightly. “That showed a willingness to help her—to keep her alive. I’m sure they only want to ask you what you saw when you went into her house.”
“I’m not so sure.” She took a steadying breath. “Detective Cranston is on his way to talk with me now. Would you be with me when he does?”
“Of course.” That is, if he’d let me.
That’s when Frank barreled through the atelier door. “Hey, Ella said—” He stopped. “Um...are you two doing women things? Talking about feelings or something? I can come back.”
Connie stood and smiled slightly. “It’s all right, Frank. Come on in.” She turned to me. “I’ll text you when he gets here.”
“All right,” I said.
Frank stood just inside the atelier looking awkward until Connie left. Actually, he continued looking awkward even then, but I motioned him over to the worktable.
“She all right?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah...still upset about finding Sandra Kelly’s body last night,” I whispered.
He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and nodded. “Sorry. Forgot all about that. It’s just that sometimes when Ella tells me things, I let them go in one ear and out the other. Should’ve paid more attention when she was talking about that.”
Max giggled. “What a goof—likable, but still a goof.”
“Yeah...well. Shall we look at this bustle?” I asked. “That is why she sent you, isn’t it?”
“No.” He frowned. “She told me you needed some sort of cage made.”
