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Authors: Jane Tesh

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BOOK: Bad Reputation, A
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For a long moment, Larissa said nothing. Her mouth trembled as if she were holding back her emotions. “Thank you, Madeline.”

“You're welcome.”

“My apologies if I said anything ugly about you or your husband. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you.”

“Well,” I said, “maybe you can be a little less critical about other peoples' artwork in the future.”

Chapter Twenty-three

When I returned to the orchestra pit, Jerry and the others were playing “The Farmer and the Cowman” for the dancers. He lifted his eyebrows inquiringly, and I gave him an okay sign. He had to wait until the end of the number to ask what had happened.

I leaned over the edge of the orchestra pit to give him the short version. “Bea tried to kill Larissa, but I struck first. Tell you all about it when we get home.”

Jerry couldn't wait until we got home. As soon as rehearsal was over and we were in the car, he wanted to hear the whole story.

When I'd finished, he said, “So the main problem Bea had with Larissa was Larissa ripping up her art.”

“I think that's what sent Bea over the edge. I have to say I sympathize. I know how I'd feel if someone ripped up
Blue Moon Garden
.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn't take revenge in such a roundabout way, would you? Why didn't Bea go after Larissa first?”

“She was still angry with Wendall for stealing her building and for not being the father of Ferris. She saw a way to get rid of both of them, and when setting Larissa up for Wendall's murder didn't work, she went to plan B.”

“But all that great jewelry. If it was selling well, she could soon afford any building she wanted.”

“But she wanted building 2064. Nothing else was going to suit her.”

As I drove up the drive, our house looked inviting in the deep October twilight, porch lights gleaming. A breeze sent stray leaves dancing across the yard. Far off in the woods, owls hooted, practicing for Halloween, and two little bats fluttered erratically in the purple sky.

Jerry pointed to them. “Look. Uncle Val's pets.”

“As long as they stay up there. The attic's off limits.” Now's the time, I told myself. “Let's sit outside for a while.”

We went up on the porch, and Jerry pulled his rocking chair over so he could sit close. “I was thinking. You know, we need another car, and Bea's not going to be using that blue Honda—”

I didn't know whether to laugh or not. “Jerry.”

“She can't drive it if she's in jail, and her son's got his VW. Why should the Honda sit in the driveway? I can keep it in good running order until she gets out in…what…never?”

“I think we'd have to ask Ferris about that.”

“And what about all that jewelry? I know how to get into the house.”

“Please tell me you're kidding.”

“I'm kidding. I have a real job now.”

“For which I am grateful.” We rocked for a few moments until I thought of something. “There are a couple of things still up in the air about this case.”

“Such as?”

“It really bugs me that Honor got to keep a pink sapphire that she does not deserve.”

Jerry laughed. “Oh, that.”

“What?”

“It's a fake. I can't wait till she tries to pawn it.”

“A fake? How do you know?”

“Big Mike told me. She doesn't get a reward for all that bad behavior.”

“Well, good.”

“What's the other thing?”

I leaned forward so I could look him straight in the eye. “The night of Honor's séance, I know you were Aunt Gloria. How did you do it?”

He had on his neutral face. “A good con man never reveals his secrets.”

“But you aren't a con man, anymore.”

“I'm still a man of mystery.”

I sat back. “You're not going to tell me, are you?”

He looked pleased with himself. “Nope. Was Honor really scared?”

“Yes. You win. And here's your prize. You and I have something very important we need to do.”

“Which is?”

“We need to decide on a name for our baby.”

This took him so completely by surprise he just looked at me as if trying to process what I'd said. When it finally sunk in, he stammered, “But you're not—you told me you weren't—are you pregnant or not?”

“I'm not,” I said. “But I could be.”

He grabbed me and gave me a long, satisfying kiss. Then he and I spent the rest of the evening trying to make it happen.

***

Pamela called the next morning. She was all aflutter, having heard the news of Bea's arrest.

“I simply could not believe it! I mean, I couldn't even believe she broke the gallery window, much less murdered Wendall! She must be crazier than anyone thought. And to think she was hiding in the gallery at the same time I was there! I might have been next!”

I really didn't think Pamela had ever been on Bea's hit list, but I didn't say so. “I hope that's the last of the gallery's problems.”

“Oh, it is! You haven't heard the news. Flora Clarke has graciously offered to sell the gallery to the Art Guild. That's the main reason I called. We really want it to work. Would you consider helping us?”

“I'll do what I can.” My doorbell rang. “Someone's at the door, Pamela. I'll call you back.”

I was surprised to find Flora Clarke at the door.

“I wanted to come thank you in person, Madeline.”

She had on her black suit, her makeup perfect but subdued. She could easily play The Widow Game, I thought, if that's what she plans to do. “You're welcome. So you're off to Florida?”

“Yes. There's no need for me to stay around here anymore.”

“I hear you plan to sell the gallery to the Art Guild.”

“I'll give them a good deal. It seems the right thing to do.”

“How about doing another right thing and stop scamming people?”

“I don't know.” Her hand went up to tug her curl, but this time she caught herself. “It's hard to give up a life you've always known. But I don't think I'll ever find another man like Wendall. I really loved him. You have to believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“I appreciate that.” She smiled a slight smile. “I'll try to reform.”

I believed she had loved Wendall. I wasn't sure I believed she was going to change. Maybe if Wendall hadn't been killed, he could've had a positive influence on her. Then again, if she was also in love with flirting and scheming, he might've been just another conquest.

Or maybe, like so many deluded beauty queens, she thought her self-worth was determined by her looks, that her only talent was being beautiful, and she'd better make the most of it while she could. I wished I could've had this conversation with her. I'd had it with myself many times. I'd conned people, too. With my fake hair and my fake smile, I'd tried my best to convince judges I was the prettiest, because that's all that mattered.

But I wasn't just a pretty face in an overly sequined gown. That wasn't me.

I'd caught Wendall Clarke's murderer. And that mattered a hell of lot more.

Jerry came to the door as Flora drove away. “Baby Flo's left all alone, huh?”

“But not freezing to death. She's heading to Palm Beach.”

“I have an idea she'll be okay.” He patted my stomach. “So what do you think? Did it take? Do we have a little Hortensia or a little Jackson growing in there?”

I put my hand over his. “Don't get too excited yet. I have to see the doctor.”

“Well, sit down and put your feet up just in case.”

We sat down on the sofa. Jerry put his arm around me, picked up the remote, and clicked on the CD player. Once again the glorious soprano voice of
The Ballad of Baby Doe
filled the room.

“Last aria,” Jerry said. “‘Always through the changing.' That's us, Mac.”

Always through the changing, I thought. I've untangled another knot of Celosia's never-ending relationships. Jerry may not be completely reformed, but he's severed another tie to his disreputable past and has a new career. Maybe it's time. Maybe I'm really ready to start a family.

I was going to let go and let it happen.

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