Bad Reputation, A (9 page)

“I did consult the Celosia Chamber of Commerce, the city commissioners, and the downtown merchants association. As much as I value your input, the Art Guild is basically a social group without any real clout. I don't think someone opening a new landscaping business would need the approval of the Garden Club.”

This did not sit well with the members of the Guild. Fortunately, the reporter from the
Celosia News
had some questions.

“Mr. Clarke, what will the hours be for the gallery?”

“Ten-to-five weekdays and Saturdays, one-to-four on Sundays. Free admission. And Sasha hopes to bring some exhibits from Parkland on a regular basis.”

Bea Ricter wasn't finished. “Didn't you forget a place for children?”

“Not at all. There's a special room in the back for children to have hands-on experiences and after-school classes. I hope you'll check it out.” He looked around the group. “Any further questions? No? Then those of you who wish to display your work, if you'd please fill out one of these forms and make an appointment with Ms. Gregory. We have some refreshments over here. Please stay and enjoy yourselves.”

As Bea continued to seethe, and members of the Art Guild made a dash for the forms, I made my way over to Wendall.

“All in all, that went very well, I think,” he said. “I was expecting more resistance, but I think people understand I can't feature everyone right now. I have to go with the best. Once the gallery's established, maybe I'll have time and room for them.”

I didn't like that “maybe.” “For the grand opening, it would be a tactful gesture to have a sample of everyone's work.”

“I'll think about it. However, I definitely want some of your work to be the first we display.”

I didn't want to get in the middle of this. “I don't have anything ready right now.”

“Even some pencil sketches would do. I'll see that Sasha leaves an appointment open for you.”

I could feel the anger around me as members of the Art Guild heard every word.

“That's not necessary, Wendall. I can wait.”

“Nonsense! You're the only one with any real talent.”

Before he could say anything else to make me the most popular girl in the room, I asked him for a word in private. We moved to a corner of the room.

“What's this about, Madeline?”

“If you want my advice, in order for the gallery to move forward in a positive way, you need to clear things up with Bea. There's obviously some unresolved issue between the two of you.”

“I really thought we'd settled our differences.” He lowered his voice. “Madeline, we all do things when we're young that we're not proud of. You're a beautiful woman, and I imagine you could've had any boy you wanted in high school. I had a good time in high school, too, and well…let's just say I may have led some girls on. Apparently, Bea hasn't forgiven me.”

“You had a relationship?”

“A one-night stand, I'm afraid. I thought I was quite the stud back then. But she shouldn't feel bad. I slept with a lot of girls because they threw themselves at me. However, I'm not that wild teenage boy anymore, and I'm going to try to make amends if she'll let me.”

We were interrupted by Bea's strident voice.

“Where did you get that?”

We turned to see Bea grab Flora's wrist where the little leaf bracelet dangled.

Flora tried to back away. “Wendall gave it to me.”

“That bracelet is mine! Give it to me.”

For a moment, Flora's eyes narrowed, and I thought she would haul back and give Bea a good thump on the nose. I saw Jerry get ready to referee. Then Flora's look of bemused innocence returned. “My goodness. If you're that sure, you can have it.”

She started to take the bracelet off, but Bea gave it a rough tug. The bracelet snapped, and all the little leaves clattered to the floor. Bea kicked the leaves and rounded on Wendall.

“So much for your promises!”

Most of the people were busy filling out the forms and getting appointments from Sasha, or at the tables filling plates with refreshments, and missed this little drama. Bea stormed out. Flora rubbed her wrist and shot Bea a look of pure loathing before turning a sweet, big-eyed gaze to Wendall, who hugged her.

“Are you all right, Baby?”

“I didn't mean to cause so much trouble.”

Behind them, Jerry was looking at Flora thoughtfully. I was wondering how Flora got a bracelet that apparently Wendall gave to Bea. “Wendall, do you know what that was all about?”

“Oh, a little misunderstanding, that's all. If you'll excuse me, I believe that policeman is here to have a word with me about the incident yesterday.”

Flora gave a little wave. “Good-bye, Madeline. Good-bye, Jerry. Thanks for sitting with me.”

Jerry picked up one of the yellow leaves. “That was interesting.”

“Yes, if Wendall's left his bad boy past behind, why does he have Bea's bracelet? And why was Flora wearing it?”

He gestured toward the long line at the sign-up table. “Well, one thing's for sure. The gallery's not going to be a flop.”

“The whole thing is so schizophrenic,” I said. “The members of the Art Guild are still angry at Wendall, and yet they knocked each other over getting in line for an appointment with Sasha, who, by the way, must imagine she's Queen of Artlandia. I don't believe I've ever heard anyone consistently refer to herself in third person. Madeline's not sure what to make of it.”

“Jerry says it's hilarious.”

***

We walked the short distance to Flair For Fashion. Pamela had yet to arrive, so the door was locked.

Jerry reached into his pocket for his keys. “I can get us in, if you like.”

I wasn't in any hurry to wade through the paper. “All that mess can wait.” I leaned back against the door. “I saw that look you gave Flora. What's up?”

“That little baby doll act she's got going is very convincing.”

“You think it's all an act?”

“I'm not sure. I thought for a moment I was going to have to peel her off Bea. But Bea could test anyone's patience. I wanted to smack her myself.”

“Well, a lot of women play up to men that way. And Wendall confessed he'd been a studly dude in high school, so he's used to being fawned upon. I was right about his relationship with Bea. She is a woman scorned.”

“And still angry after all these years?”

“Don't you remember the first woman who broke your heart?”

“There were so many.”

The policeman who'd been in the gallery came up the street. “Ms. Maclin, Chief Brenner would like to know if you have any news for him.”

I took out my phone. “I'll be glad to call him.”

The chief was interested in what I'd found out in the meeting. “Wendall has hired a curator from the Silver Gallery in Parkland named Sasha Gregory. The members of the Art Guild are happily signing up for gallery times, and Bea had an altercation with Flora Clarke. Something about a bracelet Mrs. Clarke was wearing that Bea felt was hers. Flora handed it over, and Bea left in her usual style.”

“Was Larissa Norton at the meeting?”

“Yes, but no words were exchanged, just hateful looks.”

He thanked me and hung up.

“Need some help looking for the letter?” Jerry asked.

“Yes, but first, I have to call Billie and tell her about Honor.”

“Yeah, I know. If Honor's smart, she's already left town.”

I hadn't meant to give her a head start, but if it made Jerry feel a little better about my decision, then I'd let him think that. I called Billie and told her the woman who scammed her was Honor Perkins, a professional con artist.

“And she robbed my house?”

“No, she gathered information for the burglars, but she may be able to lead the police to them, if they can find her.”

“Thanks, Madeline. That's a start, at least. When are you coming back for another visit?”

“Soon, I hope.” We said good-bye, and I hung up. “Jerry, you said you never used your real name, and I remember Rick doesn't use his, either. Why does Honor use hers?”

“Sheer egotism. She figures she'll never get caught.”

“And explain something else. What exactly is a bank examiner swindle, and why did Honor feel compelled to pay you back?”

He looked apologetic. “I'm not proud of this one, okay? Honor set it up, and then I called the mark—I mean, this woman—pretending to be a bank examiner, and told her there was something wrong with her account and could she help catch the dishonest bank teller? The woman went to the bank, made a withdrawal, and then took it outside and handed it to me. I said I'll mark it and redeposit it.”

“But you kept it, and half was to go to Honor.”

“She wasn't where she was supposed to be. I had to get out of there.”

This was worse than I thought. “You stole some poor woman's hard-earned money.”

“As I said, not proud. And it wasn't very much. We didn't take her life's savings, just two thousand dollars.”

“People fall for that?”

“All the time. But I didn't do it again. Way too risky.”

“What else haven't you done again?”

“Whatever I've done, I promise I'm through. I have to set a good example for Hortensia.”

“Do I have to have a baby to make you reform?”

“Yes, exactly. You see right through me.”

I had to smile back. “I know what you want. You want a little con baby to use as a shill or whatever it is you call it.”

He snapped his fingers. “That's it. That's her name. Shilleeta.”

“I don't think so.”

“Shilleeta Decoy Fairweather. That's sheer poetry.”

Pamela came hurrying up the street. “Oh, there you are, Madeline. My apologies.” She unlocked the door. “I meant to give you my key. I need to go back and sign up for a time to bring in my work. Can you keep an eye on the store, as well?”

“I can do that while Mac's working,” Jerry said.

“Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

We went inside Flair For Fashion. Jerry looked around the shop. “Very elite. Very trendy.”

“Very expensive.”

“Where's this letter supposed to be?”

I showed him the cluttered room. “Welcome to Needle in a Haystack.”

“Good grief. I'm beginning to think everyone in Celosia is a hoarder.”

It was true that several of my former clients had disorderly homes. “You can look through that stack near the door. That way you can see if anyone comes in.” He took a chunk of the leaning stack and began to thumb through the pages. “The letter should be from Daniel Richards, and it gives Pamela permission to remodel the building.”

We worked in silence for a while, and then Jerry said, “Are you going to put any of your work in the gallery?”

“I think I'd better give everyone else a turn first. Some of the Guild ladies looked a bit testy.” I closed one file drawer and opened another. “Nothing in that one but receipts.”

“Nothing in this stack but order forms.”

“I meant to tell you if you find anything that pertains to the Art Guild, stack it on this chair.”

“Okay.” He gave me the full force of his beautiful gray eyes. “Mac, I really am sorry I didn't tell you about my other crimes.”

“Apology accepted.”

He grinned and gave the door a little nudge with his foot, closing us in. “I think the store will be safe for a few minutes, don't you?”

“There's not a lot of room in here.”

“We'll manage.”

***

We managed. Then we managed some more. And we managed to be through before Pamela came back. She was so excited about getting an appointment with Sasha, she didn't notice our slightly disheveled appearance.

“Have any luck?” she asked.

I didn't dare look at Jerry. “Not yet.”

“Well, I'm so relieved Ms. Gregory is going to consider my work. You don't mind leaving early, do you? I want plenty of time to look over all my pictures. I need to decide on just the right ones to show her.”

“We don't mind.”

Pamela practically pushed us out. “Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow.”

We stood in front of the store for a few moments while Jerry retied his tie and I pushed my curls back into order. Down the block we could see cars still parked on both sides of the street at the gallery.

“Shows no sign of slowing down,” Jerry said. “Maybe the problem will take care of itself.”

“I don't know. That was quite a blowup between Bea and Flora.”

“She dropped her wounded little flower act for a moment. I'm not sure if she meant to.”

“Bea would provoke anybody.” I hunted in my purse for my keys. “Please don't tell me Flora's another of your con artist buddies. Honor is more than enough.”

“I don't recognize Flora from any past dealings. As for Honor, she won't bother us again.”

I did not believe that for one minute.

Chapter Ten

When we got home, Denisha, Austin, and Kennedy were waiting for us on the porch.

“Rats,” Jerry said. “I forgot to see about buying a Wow System.”

“Looks like the three of them are getting along. Maybe all is forgiven.”

We got out of the car and were immediately surrounded by the kids.

“Jerry!” Austin said. “Did you get a Wow?”

“No, I'm sorry, guys. Mac and I got involved with something and I completely forgot.”

Austin was down for only a moment. “That's okay. We can go to Kennedy's.”

Denisha didn't look happy with this decision. Kennedy had another question.

“I saw you had a piano,” she said to Jerry. “Do you ever give lessons?”

“No. I suppose I could, though.”

“I take lessons from Mrs. Norton, but I don't like her. She's really strict.”

“I've never tried, but I guess I could,” he said. “Show me what you know already.”

While all three kids and Jerry experimented with the piano, I checked the answering machine and was surprised to find a message from my mother asking me to call. When I called, she was unusually cheerful. I soon found out why.

“Madeline, I hear Wendall Clarke is opening a gallery in Celosia. What a piece of luck for you! I hope you're going to show your work there. He's such a character. Have you met that new wife of his? She's at least fifteen years younger. Quite the little princess. She used to be married to Stan Bailey, you know. Talk about an upgrade! Bailey never amounted to anything. I'm not surprised she left him. When can I come visit?”

I was almost speechless. Mother never wanted to visit. She's resigned to the fact that Jerry and I are married, and she's become a little more tolerant of my artistic endeavors, mainly because I had a successful showing at one of Parkland's premiere galleries. This gave her a new set of bragging rights. But she'd never shown any interest in seeing our new home.

“You're welcome any time, Mom.”

“What's Jerry doing these days?”

“Oh, he's musical director for the Celosia Theater.” I made it sound as lofty as possible. Even though Mother says she loves Jerry, she's baffled by his refusal to take any of the Fairweather fortune and is not a fan of his carefree lifestyle. If she knew of his past shady dealings, it would knock her perfectly ordered world off its axis.

“That sounds impressive, Madeline. I hope it pays well.”

“We're doing all right.”

“I suppose you still have your little agency?”

My little agency. Thanks, Mom. “Yes, I'm working on a couple of cases.”

“One of my friends said she thought she saw you at Billamena Tyson's yesterday.”

In some ways, Parkland is as small a town as Celosia. “I stopped by to visit.”

I braced myself for a lecture on why I didn't take the time to visit my own mother since I was right there in the neighborhood, but instead, she latched on to the pageant connection. I should have known.

“Are the two of you thinking of entering Mrs. Parkland? She still has a reasonably good voice, and if you practiced every day, you could have your talent in shape in a couple of weeks.”

After my last pageant, I'd sold my violin. I was never going to play “Orange Blossom Special” again. “We talked about other things.”

“She's let herself go, but you still look wonderful. You could easily win.”

Was
she
ever going to let go? “I'm kind of busy right now.”

There was a long pause. “Well, I'm very interested in seeing the new gallery. Maybe I'll drive over there later this week.”

“I'll be glad to see you.” I meant it. Could my mother and I finally attempt a real relationship?

By the time I got back to the parlor, Austin and Denisha had already left, and Kennedy had called her mother to see if she could switch piano teachers.

“She says she'll think about it,” she said to Jerry. “I guess I'd better go. Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

As she skipped out, I said, “You'll never guess who wants to visit us.”

“The stork?”

“No. My mother.”

He was impressed. “Really? What brought this on?”

“The new gallery. She wants to see it.”

“Did you tell her to come on down?”

“She said she may drive over next week.” I still couldn't quite believe it.

“This news deserves a fanfare.” Jerry played several impressive chords on the piano, started a cheery tune, and then slid into a minor key. “Uh, oh. What would she think about being a grandmother?”

I sat down on the piano bench beside him. “That's not high on her list. And I'm afraid if we had a girl, she'd try to make her into a pageant princess.”

“Then we'd better have a boy.”

“I'd rather have dinner.” I gave him a hug. “What's on the menu tonight?”

“Spaghetti.”

I waited, but my stomach did not object. “Great. I'm going to paint for a while.”

“I'll be in Oklahoma.”

***

I worked in my studio for about an hour, but this time I couldn't concentrate on my paintings or lose myself in the creative process. I kept thinking about Honor Perkins. On top of my usual concerns about Jerry's old con buddies, Honor seemed like a woman who was not likely to let Jerry go. I thought there was a lot more to her scheme than payback for a past con job. I wondered if he knew she had feelings for him. Probably not. My husband was very clever about many things, but he didn't always connect the emotional dots. It had taken him forever to realize I was his perfect choice.

On second thought, maybe I was wrong about Honor. Maybe she just missed the good old con days and having Jerry as a partner. But my pageant days had taught me quite a bit about jealousy. That's what I saw in Honor's keen dark eyes.

It was almost seven-thirty when I came into the kitchen. Since it was Wednesday night—church night—Jerry didn't have to be at the theater. He was piling a heap of spaghetti onto his plate. “Someone from the choir called and said they were having some kind of retreat meeting tonight, so I wasn't needed,” he said. “I figured you'd come down when you got hungry. I didn't want to disturb you.”

I helped myself to some spaghetti and took my place at the table. “You've already disturbed me. I need to know what other schemes of yours are likely to cause trouble.”

“I'm not sure I can remember all of them.”

“Try.”

He gave himself another helping of sauce and sat down at the table. “Well, let's see. Besides the séances, Jeff and I ran a lot of little cons, the knife trick, simple bar tricks with matches and coins. With Rick it was the fake unicorn pictures, pet psychics, and the purse scam. Del and I ran some fob off games and twinkles. I guess that leaves Honor and the bank examiner con, the one I told you about.”

“Anything else?”

He shook his head. “I believe that's it.”

I wound some spaghetti around my fork. “So no more of these friends hold grudges, or want you back in the game, or have angry victims hunting them and, by association, you?”

“I hope not. I'm really sorry about all this, Mac.”

I can't stay mad at him for long. “I know. I'm just worried about our future. The next threat might not be a practical joke.”

“You have to understand that for me none of these cons were about cheating folks out of their money. It was about seeing what I could get away with. It was a lot of fun for me.”

“It was illegal. You're lucky you weren't caught.”

“That's why I stopped. I'm a married man and possibly a father.”

“You always turn the conversation around to that, don't you?”

“Now that I've given up my cons, I have to find another way to entertain myself.”

I set my fork aside. “Okay, suppose, just suppose we had a baby. Since I set up my agency in town, I've been lucky to have enough work, but I can't count on my fellow Celosians to kill each other on a regular basis.”

“Then you'll be happy to know I emailed my resume to several more companies.”

“That sounds encouraging. What did you put down under experience?”

“‘Sidekick to an extremely successful private investigator.' No, the word I used was ‘associate.' We'll see what happens.” Jerry gave me another searching gaze and then moved his chair so he could put his arm around me. “What's really bothering you about this, Mac?”

What was really bothering me? I wasn't sure. “Maybe I still feel pressured. You know that's all Bill talked about.”

“Because he saw his wife as a baby-making machine. What's he got now, six?”

“Number four is on the way.”

“The more children he has, the more manly he feels. You know that's not true with me.”

“I'm coming around to the idea. But what about my mother? She'll have our child in pageants from the day it's born.”

“Nope. I will con her out of that idea.”

“It would be worth having a baby to see you do that.”

“So we have a deal?”

My phone rang. “Hold that thought.”

It was Nell. “Madeline, are you busy?”

“Just having supper.”

“Got a bunch of pictures to hang at the gallery. You mind stopping by and giving me some advice?”

“I can be there in about twenty minutes.” She thanked me and I hung up, relieved to have postponed the baby deal for the moment. “Nell needs my help at the gallery. Care to come along?”

***

Nell unlocked the front gallery door for us. “Thanks for coming. I'm not sure where all this stuff goes.”

The stuff was a stack of paintings and a pile of sculptures. I recognized Ginger's ping-pong creations and Bea Ricter's distressed wooden frames. Several of the frames were in pieces.

“What happened there, Nell?”

“Found them like that. Guess they got knocked over.”

With Jerry's help, we hung the pictures and placed the sculptures in the display cases. Then we cleared all the packing materials, plastic bags, and strips of tape.

“What about Bea's broken frames?”

“Just leave them there, I guess. She can do what she wants with 'em. We can put the trash out back.” Our hands were full, so Nell pushed the back door open with her hip and stepped outside. She did a little side step and almost tripped over something. “Good lord!”

The something was Wendall Clarke, stretched out in the narrow space behind the gallery's back door. As I hurriedly punched in 9-1-1 on my phone, I saw a shadowy shape hurry around the corner, get into a car, and speed away. Jerry sprinted after it, returning after a few minutes to say he couldn't see the license plate, but the car was a newer model beige Accord.

“Sounds like Larissa Norton's car,” Nell said. She set her trash bag aside and bent down with me over Wendall. “Is he dead?”

I carefully felt Wendall's wrist. “I'm afraid so.”

There wasn't much light, but I saw a large chunk of wood by Wendall's head, the same type of wood Bea Ricter used for her artwork. His forehead was scraped and dark with blood. The same dark bloodstains were on the piece of wood.

Nell's voice was shaky. “What's he doing out here? He didn't say anything about coming back to the gallery tonight.”

“Are you certain that was Larissa's car?”

“I'm pretty sure. You think she lured him back here to kill him?”

I thought it more likely Larissa would kill Flora. “I don't know. A lot of people were angry with Wendall.”

In the distance we could hear sirens. The EMTs would be here in a few minutes, but they'd be too late to save Wendall. The police would be here, too, so I had a few minutes to look around. I was almost certain the piece of wood was the murder weapon. From the mark on Wendall's forehead, I figured he must have known his assailant for anyone to get close enough to hit him. If I wanted to attack a man that large, I would've tried to come from behind. Wendall's murderer must have been someone he knew and someone who took him completely by surprise.

The light was too dim to examine the scene quickly, and before Jerry and I had the chance to check the rest of the yard, a police car drove up. Chief Brenner was first on the scene, followed by the ambulance.

As Nell explained matters to her father, she managed to get control of her voice. “I called Madeline to help me hang some pictures. We were taking out the trash when we found him. You might want to have a word with Larissa Norton. We saw her car driving away.”

I pointed out the piece of wood. “Looks like he was hit by that. It's the kind of wood Bea Ricter uses for her picture frames, so you might want to talk to her, too.”

Chief Brenner gave me a sharp glance. “Anything else?”

I could truthfully say no.

“All right. On your way home, stop by the station and give them your full statement. You, too, Jerry, and you, Nell. Are you all right?”

She took off her cap to give her hair a brief swipe, then put her cap back on. This simple act steadied her. “It was a real cowardly act, Dad. Never expected someone so big and full of life as Wendall to die like this.”

My thoughts exactly. No matter what opinion people had of him, Wendall Clarke had been a force of nature, and to see him lying crumpled on the ground had been a shock.

“You gotta catch his murderer, Dad.”

The chief was not pleased someone had killed a prominent hometown man. “I plan to.”

“Can we go with you when you tell Flora?” I asked him. “She doesn't have many friends in town.”

“Yes. Wait for me at the station.”

Wendall's body was taken away, and the piece of wood bagged as evidence.

After we gave our statements to the police, Jerry and I went with the chief to the Clarkes' house. Flora met us at the door, and as Chief Brenner explained what had happened, she shuddered and began to cry. I put my arm around her shoulders.