She nodded and began to sob. “Yes. I saw it when I went to get Leslie’s phone out of her purse. I didn’t want her drinking at Bridgette’s party.”
I kneeled down next to her. “Why did you do it, Susan? Did you think it was the same clown from when you were a child?”
“I know it was. When he was making that balloon animal for my daughter, he called her his ‘little chickadee.’ That’s exactly what he called me all those years ago at Leslie’s house. The only difference was that I remembered him being taller, but that’s just because I was a child and he loomed so large that night above me.” She shook her head as if trying to drive the memory from her head.
Part of me couldn’t believe that Susan was actually confessing.
“I didn’t mean to kill him, you have to believe me. I just wanted to get him away from my daughter and from the other girls without making a scene. I flirted a little and used the flask to lure him to the kitchen. That’s when I noticed the freezer. It was locked, but I saw the key hanging on the wall. I told him we could slip in there together.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “He was obviously already three sheets to the wind. When he got inside, I slapped him and threw the flask at him. Then I locked the door.”
“What did you do with the key?”
“I don’t remember exactly. I think I threw it in the trash can or near the trash or something. I went back out to check on my child. I must have put my hand on her back and gotten that creep’s face grease all over the back of her beautiful dress.” She paused as she remembered the scene.
I sat down beside her. “What happened next?”
“That’s when reality set in. I grabbed her and left. I never thought for one minute that he would die in there. I thought he would yell and someone would let him out. I just didn’t want to be around for him to point a finger at me as the one who did it.”
I heard heavy footsteps behind me as Susan looked up.
“I was around the corner,” Grady said. “I heard the whole thing. Susan Martinelli, you are under arrest.”
In a flurry of activity, a deputy appeared and led Susan away.
I stopped Grady. “What will happen to her?”
“It depends on how the DA charges her. Although she says she didn’t intend to kill the guy, she didn’t come forward after she found out he was dead. The lie makes the crime worse.”
That was for sure. “What about Myra?”
“I’m sure they’ll consider dropping the charges. I’ve got to go.”
I let him keep his shred of dignity from having made another blunder by arresting the wrong person again. The charges against Myra would be dropped. Her new lawyer would have “won” her first case.
And I would get to carry on with my life and concentrate on Jake.
Chapter 26
By the time Friday night rolled around, our date had turned into a double date and then a triple date. It just seemed like the thing to do now that Myra was in the clear, Freddy was back, and my brother and I were on the mends. Plus, a part of me wanted Nancy and Tyler to have a chaperone.
The waiter came up to the table to take our drink orders. Jake and I ordered margaritas. Myra and Freddy ordered beer.
The waiter turned to Nancy. “What about you, ma’am?”
“I’ll have a diet soda.”
Tyler closed his menu. “Me, too.”
“What are you two doing?” I asked. “Volunteering to be the designated driver?”
Nancy shook her head. “No, I just feel like having a soda.” She picked up the menu and began studying it.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Since when was Nancy on a diet? “And what about you, Tyler? I thought tequila was your drink of choice.”
Myra jabbed me in the side with her elbow. “Didn’t you know your brother quit drinking about six months ago?”
My mouth gaped as I looked back at Tyler.
“That’s why your parents gave it up,” she added. “To support their son.”
Freddy reached out and shook Tyler’s hand. “Way to go, man. Good job.”
I didn’t know what to say. My brother was full of surprises.
When the waiter returned with our drinks, Tyler held up his glass to make a toast. “Here’s to my sister. If she hadn’t been so annoying and persistent, we might not all be here together tonight. Cheers.”
We all clinked glasses.
“That’s for sure. Especially you and me.” Myra grinned at Freddy, who leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Obviously, Freddy wasn’t going anywhere for a while. I wanted to make amends. “Freddy, I need to apologize for thinking you had something to do with Grover’s death. You were a little suspicious, though.”
“I know, I shouldn’t have run off like that. It’s just that my record isn’t exactly spotless, and I know what a loose cannon the sheriff can be.”
I nodded. “Not only that, but you said you disappeared for a few minutes during the party and you didn’t tell me where.”
“I told you, I had business to take care of.” His face reddened.
I stared back, still puzzled by the answer.
“Sis, don’t be so dense,” Tyler said. “He went into the lodge to take a whiz.”
“Oops.” I wrinkled my nose. “Missed that. Sorry.”
Jake saved the day by offering up another toast. “Here’s to Mr. Squishy—Grover—may you rest in peace. Hopefully, it’s a little warmer where you are now.”
We all turned to him at once.
“Wait. That’s not what I meant. I meant—”
“Cheers,” Tyler said, and we echoed the sentiment.
Freddy stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles in his jeans. He towered over the table. “Myra, this wasn’t exactly how I planned it, but I don’t want to wait another minute. You never know what’s around the corner.” He bent down on one knee and pulled a ring box out of his pocket.
A collective gasp circled the table.
“Myra Ann Mendoza, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Myra squealed and threw her arms around his neck.
Freddy squeezed her tight. “I love you, my little chickadee.”
Jake, Nancy, and Tyler broke into applause as I stared at the couple. Had I heard him right? Did he just call her his little chickadee? I grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled him from the table. “I need to talk to you. Now!”
He followed me to the bar. “What is it? You’re not going to propose on our first date, are you?” he asked with a grin.
“It may have been Freddy, not Grover!”
“What are you talking about?”
“At the Woodgate house in 1982. Freddy was the burglar, not Grover.”
He tilted his head. “How do you know?”
“Susan said the clown at the party was shorter than she had remembered. Freddy’s like...eight feet tall! Plus, he called Myra his ‘chickadee.’”
“Is that what you said Squishy called Susan’s daughter at the birthday party?”
I nodded quickly. “Yes. Freddy and Grover were cousins. Maybe it’s a family thing. I think we should call the sheriff. I think we should—”
Jake pulled me to him and kissed me.
After the initial shock, I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt my knees begin to wobble.
He pulled his face away and stared into my eyes. “I think you’ve done enough for a while; let’s not go borrowing trouble.”
As he kissed me again, I knew he was right. You can’t change the past. It was time at last to move forward. And at that moment, I knew I was right where I wanted to be.
* * *
THE END
PICTURE IMPERFECT
Copyright © 2018 Lisa B. Thomas
Cozy Stuff and Such, LLC
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are produc
ts of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Who would have thought someone at this gathering would be dead in less than twenty-four hours. But that’s just what happened.
My friend Nancy had told me these town hall meetings could quickly erupt into an ultimate fighting match, but I assumed she was exaggerating. Since moving back to Cascada, I had come to see the small town in a whole new light. It was no longer just the place I’d spent my youth. At thirty-five, I realized it was like any other small town with its own commerce, politics, and plenty of personal agendas. Many of those would end up on display tonight.
The turnout was huge. We found aisle seats in the middle of the theater. That’s right. For big meetings like this one for the Winter Arts Fair, meetings were held in the town’s one small movie theater. It was the old-fashioned kind with a stage, red velvet curtains, and an organ sitting off to the side to accompany the silent film showings.
As more and more people filed in, I got a craving for popcorn. It was probably the scent of butter and furniture polish that hung in the air and infused the upholstered seats.
I whispered to Nancy, “The meeting hasn’t even started and people are already arguing.”
She laughed as she stared at her cell phone. “I told you there’d be fireworks.”
Off in the corner, Mayor Hadwell did his best to calm down a man I didn’t recognize. Their voices reverberated through the small auditorium like Big Ben in London.
“How dare you replace me!” The man threw back his head and stuck out his chin. “I’ve been in charge of the pie auction for ten years straight!”
Harvey Hadwell, mayor for the past three years, was married to a retired high school English teacher and spent most of his time gardening. Clutching his gavel, he remained firm. “Ten years was a good run. Time to shake things up a little. Besides, after what happened last year, we just have to replace you.”
“But that wasn’t my fault. I—I just tripped.”
“You fell onto a table of pies and smashed all ten of them to pieces.”
The man glared back. “How was I to know those teenaged hooligans spiked the apple cider?”
“Look, the only way I was able to get people to even enter the competition this year was to promise them we’d have a new chairman. You know how much the town needs the money from this auction. Besides, I’ve assigned you a new position.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“You’re going to be head of security over the refreshment area. That way we can be certain there’s no funny business again.”
I had heard that Mayor Hadwell was a peacemaker, and now I’d seen him in action.
The disgruntled ex-chairman skulked away, seemingly satisfied.
I frowned at Nancy. “What are you doing on your phone? You’re supposed to be giving me the lowdown on all these townspeople.”
“Sorry, but I’ve got a prospective buyer with a million questions.”
Nancy owned the biggest real estate business in town, which kept her super busy but also meant she knew almost everyone. As a new business owner myself, it was important to have connections. I studied the pamphlet with all the fair’s events listed.
“At least tell me who the judge is for the photography competition,” I said. “I’m entering one of my pictures.”
“Artie Becker,” she answered without looking up. She brushed her long brown locks back over her shoulder. Nancy was arguably the most beautiful girl in town. If only she could find a guy who interested her as much as her business. She was one of those girls who went on a lot of first dates. Although she was a sweetheart, she often camouflaged it with a sharp tongue. That’s what drew us together as friends—our mutual dislike of people who annoy us.
“Artie Becker.” I mulled over the name. “Isn’t he the guy who takes pictures of houses for you?”
She nodded. “He’s not very good, and he’s unreliable. You know, the whole package.”
Ugh. From what I’d seen of his work, he was a no-talent hack. I could give a camera to my cat and she could take better pictures. Before I moved back a few months ago, he was the only professional photographer in town, if you could call his work “professional.” Technically, people paid him to take pictures, so I guess that qualified him as a pro.
Still, I couldn’t imagine he was the best choice to be a judge of the photo contest. I hadn’t entered any of my fine art photography in a competition since college, and I was a little nervous. The fair was one of the two biggest events in Cascada and featured numerous arts and crafts competitions as well as booths for local vendors to sell their wares. People from all over the area would participate.
The theater continued to fill up and the number of people I didn’t recognize grew. I had made it a point to try to make friends with as many of my fellow Cascadians as possible. After all, they were potential clients for my new photography business, the Foto Factory. Maybe there would be mingling after the meeting.
To be honest, I’d rather have been at home snuggled by the fire with Jake binge-watching Netflix. But he had a new cyber case to investigate and would be glued to his computer for days. Actually, I had found it a little awkward dating Nancy’s brother, Jake. Normally, you tell your best friend all the juicy bits when you’re in a new relationship. But Nancy had made it clear I was to keep all intimate details about her big brother to myself. Who could blame her?
Nancy finally looked up from her phone. “By the way, are you entering a pie in the silent auction?”
The question surprised me. “I can’t believe that’s still a thing. I remember my mom used to do that.”
“Of course it’s a thing. That’s how the town maintains its reputation as the pie capital of New Mexico.”
My eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re actually baking a pie for the auction. What about our ‘no-baking’ pledge?”
“Ha. We don’t have a no-baking pledge.” Her face lit up. “Last year I came in eleventh place. That Gayle Davidson won again with her strawberry rum recipe. I still can’t figure out what she puts in her crust.”
“Wait. I thought it was an auction, not a contest.”
She leaned in closer. “It’s not a contest...officially. But the pie with the highest bid is the self-proclaimed winner and gets bragging rights. Karol puts it on her menu at the café and we do it all over again at the fall festival.”
This was a side of Nancy I had never seen. I knew she was a go-getter when it came to running her business, but I had no idea she was a competitive pastry nut.
She raised her head high. “I’ve been perfecting my recipe for months. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t enter this time, but you’ll be expected to in the future.”
What was this, Stepford Place? Would the pie police come after me? Or maybe the confectionary cops?
I tried not to laugh. “So what is this magic pie you’re making?”
She opened her mouth as though I’d just punched her in the gut. “I can’t tell you that!”
“Why not? It’s not a matter of national security or anything.”
The look on her face said it all.
I spoke slowly as I called her out. “You don’t trust me, do you? You think I’ll tell someone or try to make it myself!”
“It’s not that...” Nancy’s words came out as stammering gibberish.
I couldn’t help but laugh then. “Don’t worry. We’re cool. At least I know where I stand now.”
Before she could protest, another commotion arose behind us. I turned around to see a slender young woman standing in the aisle, hands on her hips. Everything about her was over the top, from her fiery red hair to her severe eyebrows to her stiletto heels. She towered over the man she berated in front of her.
“Mr. Becker, you said you’d have that video to me a week ago! My wedding was last month. I’ll probably b
e divorced before I get to watch myself walk down the aisle.” Her face competed with her hair for the brightest shade of red.
The man she lorded over was middle-aged and wore bright blue cowboy boots under his beige leisure suit. His face was camouflaged by a large pair of glasses that were supposed to adjust from night to day but looked perpetually stuck somewhere in between. “Look, lady, don’t get your panties in a wad. I’ve had a lot going on. You’re not my only client, you know.” He glanced at the guy crouched behind her. “I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.”
“End of the week? That’s what you said last week.” She turned to the man slouching beside her, presumably her husband. “We’ll sue you if we have to, right, honey?”
He kept his head low and avoided eye contact. “He said he’d have it by the end of the week. Let’s give him a chance.”
“What?” Red held up her claws as though she would scratch his eyes out. “You spineless wimp! Why did I even marry you if you won’t stand up for me?” She looked around at the stares from the crowd and lowered her voice. “I expect that video tomorrow, or else.” She stormed off to her seat in the front row.
Her poor husband shrugged his shoulders and followed, leaving the other man fuming, his fists balled as though he wanted to go after them.
Nancy looked up from her phone. “That’s Artie Becker, by the way.” She motioned for him to come over.
He first glared at the young couple but begrudgingly walked up to where we were sitting.
“You haven’t forgotten about the Boswell job tomorrow morning, have you?” Nancy asked. “They’re all over me to get their house on the market ASAP.”
“I’ll be there.” He looked at me suspiciously. “Aren’t you that new photographer who opened a studio in the old skating rink?”
“That’s me.” I stuck out my hand. “Wendy Fairmont.”
He hesitated before finally giving it a shake. “Hope you have a back-up plan. I’ve got a loyal following in this town.”
Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3 Page 27
