Case of Imagination (22 page)

Jerry looked taken aback. “I never considered that.”

Good heavens, I thought. Don’t encourage him.

“Perhaps you should, before you give it up completely.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Snyder. It might be worth a try.”

She looked at her watch and got up. “Well, my sewing circle meets in about ten minutes. If you decide to get back in the séance business, you give me a call.”

Jerry walked her out to her car and held the door. She drove off, and he came back to the porch.

“I see you have a groupie,” I said.

“She’s a real character.”

“I guess we’ll be hearing from Sean or Geoff pretty soon.”

“Yep. I’ll say ten minutes.”

“I’ll say fifteen.”

In exactly ten minutes, Sean Snyder drove up in a cloud of dust, parked, and got out, fists clenched. He charged up the porch steps and shook a fist in Jerry’s face.

“You may have fooled Aunt Flossie, but you don’t fool me. This is just another scheme of yours to fleece unsuspecting widows.”

Jerry just grinned. “And orphans.”

Sean didn’t get the joke. “What?”

“Widows and orphans. You’re supposed to say unsuspecting widows and orphans.”

I could see Sean’s teeth grind together. “Be as flippant as you like. Geoff and I will find a way to stop you.”

“You don’t have to stop me, Sean. I’ve stopped myself. I’m going legit.”

“Oh, ha, ha.”

“Ask your aunt if you don’t believe me.”

“And what brought about this transformation?”

“I’m opening a bed and breakfast.”

This stopped Sean cold for a few minutes. “A what?”

“A bed and breakfast. You know. People stay overnight, and you feed them in the morning.”

Sean gave the house a horrified glance. “Good lord. Who’d want to stay here?”

“You haven’t seen the improvements. Come on in.”

Sean didn’t move. “I’m not going in there, and neither will anyone else. This house has a terrible reputation.”

“Well, I’m going to change that.”

“You don’t fool me for an instant. You’re going to lure innocent tourists in and then pick their pockets with your illegal and devious tricks.”

“What tricks?”

“Geoff and I saw you and your partner—what was his name?”

Jerry sat back on the porch railing. “Jeff. Only he spells it the right way.”

“We saw you and Jeff pull that phony mind-reading act. I’ll bet you got over five hundred dollars that night before we exposed you to the authorities.”

“Seven hundred and fifty. It would’ve been more, but Jeff’s microphone kept picking up the local news.”

I thought Sean was going to go through the roof.

“You even admit to fraudulent practices! Why aren’t you in jail?”

“No jail can hold me, Sean. I just walk through the walls.”

Sean stuck his nose so close to Jerry’s, I thought for a moment he was going to attempt a head-butt. “Well, I promise you, Geoff and I will be watching closely, and if there’s even the slightest hint of illegal activity up here, we’ll have the law down on you.”

Jerry didn’t flinch. “This is going to be a legitimate business, Sean. You can ask Olivia.”

“Don’t think I won’t!”

With this threat, Sean huffed back to his car, got in, and drove away.

Jerry waved good-bye. “One day, he’s just going to pop like a balloon. There’ll be little pieces of Snyder all over the yard.”

I wondered what Jerry really had in mind. “You aren’t planning anything illegal, are you?”

“Nothing I do is illegal. People want to believe. That’s the great thing about them. Oh, here comes Olivia. Sean just missed her. Too bad.”

I wish I’d missed her. Olivia. Damn. He must have called her.

Olivia parked her car beside mine and got out, carrying a shopping bag. Jerry bounded down the steps to her. I went upstairs to avoid seeing their happy meeting. I paused in the hallway and looked toward the parlor. Even from here, I could see the gleam of light; light that I knew would be perfect. I walked to the parlor and stood in the doorway, imaging how I’d rearrange things. The fancy Victorian furniture would have to go. I could put a desk and chair in one corner, some file cabinets and maybe a nice plant or two. The rest of the room would be filled with my artist supplies, paints and brushes and—

No. No, an office might be nice, but how could I hope to create art here when Jerry and Olivia were lip-locked in their bedroom?

I could hear her. When was her incessant chatter going to get on his nerves? I went to the landing and listened. They were in the downstairs parlor, Olivia holding forth on her master plan for the bed and breakfast.

“Jerry, I found these candles at Candle De-Light. They’ll go perfectly with your living room colors. This is a special lighter, too. It’s the latest thing. And I’ve been thinking an afternoon tea might be nice. Vegetables from your garden—if you ever have one. Tours, perhaps, of the area. We could get those little bottles of shampoo and lotion, like hotels have for their guests. Oh, you know what would look good? A grand piano right by those windows.”

“And who would be playing this grand piano?” Jerry asked.

“Well, you certainly can.”

“I think this room is a better séance room.”

“Jerry, we are discussing a bed and breakfast, not a spook house at the fair. And why is Madeline still here?”

After all this time and despite all evidence to the contrary, she still perceives me as a threat.

“She’s on a case,” Jerry said.

“Do you honestly think she can solve a murder mystery?”

Getting personal here. I leaned over the railing to hear better.

Olivia said, “This is Madeline Maclin we’re talking about. She can take pictures of cheating husbands and find watches and rings, but murder? Don’t you think that’s out of her league?”

Well, excuse me, missy.

“She can do it,” Jerry said.

“I still don’t see why she has to stay here.”

“Mac’s my best friend.”

“You say that all the time, and it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Men and women can’t be best friends. There’s too much sexual tension involved.”

Jerry laughed. “Mac and I don’t have any sexual tension.”

Ow. Jerry, you are as thick as two planks.

“You can’t tell me you don’t find her attractive,” Olivia said.

“I think she’s gorgeous.”

Thanks for that much.

Olivia let out an exasperated sigh. “See?”

“Well, damn it, Olivia, I’m not blind.”

“How do you think I feel with her in the house?”

“We’ve been through a lot together. I can’t just throw that away.”

“A few drunken brawls and you’re blood brothers? We’ve been through a lot together, too, Jerry.”

But Olivia hadn’t jumped off the roof of the science building. Olivia hadn’t traveled all night in the back of Sam Ferguson’s Dodge pickup to see Ben Risky and the Fiery Mountain Boys’ farewell performance in Charlotte. Olivia hadn’t gone cross-country in a two-door Geo Metro looking for the tallest scariest roller coasters, or been underground at Disney World, or seen
The Tales of Hoffmann
all sixteen times it was performed by the Houston Opera.

Nor would she want to.

She didn’t even want to go into the secret passageway. If she married Jerry, his fun times would be over. Couldn’t he see that?

I waited, hoping this would escalate into a first-class argument, but Olivia abruptly changed the subject.

“Can this Nell person do floors?”

“I’m sure she can,” Jerry said.

“Because the bedroom floors are hardwood and should be refinished.”

“I’ll ask her.”

“And have you decided what to do about the upstairs parlor?”

That’s mine, I wanted to shout. My studio.

Wait a minute. What sort of mushrooms had I been chewing?

“I haven’t decided,” Jerry said.

“You could make it into a suite. It would triple your profits.”

She went on about inventory and cash flow and turnover. I’m sure Jerry’s eyes had glazed over long before she finished. I didn’t want them to know I’d been listening, so I trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. Nell was getting a beer out of the refrigerator.

“Blondie still here?”

I nodded. She tossed me a beer. “Thanks.”

She popped the top and took a swig. “You’d better make your move pretty soon.”

“I’m not going to make a move.”

“Then how’s he gonna know how you feel?”

It’s bad enough having Shana rewrite my life. I didn’t want advice from Nell.

“Just paint, okay?”

***

Juliet’s funeral service was held in a small gray stone church on Main Street. Evan James and Cindy were there, as well as the judges, Benjy Goins, Kimberly Dawn, and Chuck Hofsteder. Randi, Karen, and most of the Miss Celosia Pageant contestants were there, but Donna Sanchez was absent. The rest of the pews were filled with townspeople and teenagers. A slim woman in black sat by herself in the front pew. I guessed she was the relative Ted had mentioned. Ted came in and sat near the back. Chuck Hofsteder sat by himself, wiping his eyes.

I slid into the pew next to him. “My condolences, Chuck.”

He blew his nose into a Kleenex. “She was a lovely girl. Such a waste. She could’ve gone all the way to the top. Celosia didn’t know what it had. She would’ve made this town famous. Who’ve we got now? None of the other girls come close.”

“Maybe next year.”

He nodded and gave his eyes a final wipe. “Yes, you’re right. I should be looking toward the future.”

“How did you hear about Juliet?” I asked.

“I was at the country club having dinner, and the news went around like wildfire. I couldn’t believe it. I called Benjy to see if he’d heard, and he was just as appalled as I was.”

The service began. After the choir sang a hymn, we were asked to bow our heads in prayer. The minister had a short sermon about how tragic it was for a young life to be cut short. Another hymn, a parting prayer, and we were done.

Chuck Hofsteder shook my hand. His fingers were damp. “Thank you for sitting with me, Madeline.”

“I could tell you were upset.”

“Juliet was our best hope since Kimberly Dawn.” He sighed. “You know how it is. You’re tall. The shorter girls just don’t have that regal air. Juliet was the tallest girl in the competition. It makes a difference. Kimberly was the tallest in her pageant, too.”

And being tall myself, I hadn’t really noticed.

Chuck was still bemoaning the lack of talent in Celosia. “Donna and Karen are just too petite, and Randi lacks finesse.” His gaze settled on the choir. “Now there’s a possibility. That young lady on the front row. What do you think?”

Scouting for contestants at a funeral. Pageants must have fried his brain.

He went up the aisle. “I’m going to speak with her about next year.”

Ted met me in the parking lot. “Madeline,” he said. “The police won’t tell me anything. Do you know anything?”

“Not much. I was hoping the killer would show up with a big lighted sign on his chest.” I frowned. Ted was tall, but then, so were all the judges and Evan James. Whoever killed Juliet had to be tall enough to reach the cords hanging on the wall. I could reach them, Ted could, too.

I thought I recognized a woman standing by the church door talking with the pastor. “Is that one of your protesters?”

“Samantha Terrell.”

Samantha Terrell saw me and came over, smiling. I remembered the small woman with her cloud of light brown hair from that first day I’d met the protesters. Her smile was a larger version of her son’s smile.

“Austin can’t stop talking about you and Jerry,” she said. “He has the best time at your house. I hope he’s not bothering you.”

“Not at all,” I said. “Jerry needs someone to play with.”

The pastor moved on to another group of people. Samantha Terrell sighed and shook her head. “This is so sad about Juliet, isn’t it? Did you speak with her aunt, Ted?”

“No, she slipped out before I could say anything to her.”

“Did you know her family?” I asked Samantha.

“I knew her mother. Wild as a buck. She had Juliet when she was sixteen and never could control her.”

“Madeline is investigating Juliet’s murder,” Ted said.

Samantha’s dark eyes widened. “Really? Is that why you’re in town? I thought you came to see about the Eberlin house.”

“I seem to have fallen into this case.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

Ted sighed. “Me.”

Samantha frowned and for that moment looked exactly like Austin at the receiving end of one of Denisha’s pronouncements. “Ted Stacy, your problems with Juliet are old news.” She turned to me. “He told you about that ridiculous sexual harassment complaint, didn’t he? Absolutely ridiculous.”