Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders (16 page)

17

From: Elsie Holland ([email protected])

Date: Wednesday, April 23, 9:50 PM

To: Lauren Packer ([email protected])

Subject: Above the law?

News about Magda Grace Mallory’s trust funds has spread about town. You have acted nervous about the recent changes to the disposition of her fortune. Are you concerned for your client—or for yourself?

I have information that suggests you know more about the balance in Magda’s bank book than you’re telling.

Saturday, April 26

I knew I wouldn’t get to sleep until I considered the same questions I had raised about Spencer’s death with Magda’s. I dug out my steno pad and flipped to the first page.

Audie. No alibi—he was alone at the theater all afternoon
.

He worked for Magda and was in the middle of a contract negotiation that might provide a motive. But he was cleared in Spencer’s murder, at least unofficially; and I didn’t believe for a second that he killed Magda.

Magda’s name jumped off the second page. Elimination as a suspect by death—I slashed through the notes I had made and flipped the page before tears fell again.

Suzanne. Alibi—check
.

She and Magda had recently found each other; did she harbor resentment over being given up for adoption?

Lauren. Alibi—check.

He was Magda’s attorney. Had she discovered some mishandling of her affairs? Did he resent the increased responsibility she had recently offered Audie?

Mayor Ron. Alibi: probably at the city office.

He was Magda’s brother, and they always seemed to be on good terms. So—motive, unknown.

Cord: Alibi—check.

Magda was his aunt. He resented taking Gene under his wing. Angry enough to kill? I couldn’t imagine it.

Gene: Alibi—check.

Suzanne’s arrival on the scene threatened his position as the heir to the Grace-Mallory fortune, as well as his status as a beloved only child. I could understand if he wanted to kill his newfound sister. But—Magda? It didn’t make sense.

Dina: Alibi—at the paper.

She was about to get an exclusive interview with Magda. Why kill the golden goose that would prove her worth as a reporter?

Peppi: Alibi—on assignment from the paper.

She would receive partial credit for the interview. She hardly knew Magda. Motive, unknown. That old lady at the nursing home sure seemed to have a grudge. I needed to find out if they were related.

Frances:
Alibi—at work at the police station.

I couldn’t think of a motive, unless Magda opposed her relationship with Cord for some reason. It seemed unlikely.

I looked at the suspects. Who was a likely murderer? If I had to pick, I would pin the murders on Lauren. He didn’t bother to endear himself to anyone and even seemed to resent Audie’s friendship with Magda. Still, she had trusted him to handle her affairs. Personal preferences did not a conviction make.

~

Sunday church services were a subdued affair. Two murders a week apart did that to a small community. Most people knew Vic Spencer by sight, but we all mourned the passing of Magda Grace Mallory, even our Gaynor-oriented congregation. Pastor Waldberg preached an effective sermon about the uncertainty of life and the two roads we could choose. He sounded better than usual; or maybe we listened more closely in light of the two deaths.

We spent a quiet Sunday, focused on God and family, not murder, although we did read Dina’s articles about the tragic events. Monday morning I considered wearing my grandmother’s PHS uniform, but decided against it. Instead, I went with a button-down blouse and wide-legged trousers that women started to wear during the war years.

As soon as I walked into Gaynor Goodies, the barrage started.

“Cici! Have you heard the latest about Magda’s murder?” Jessie asked while she assembled two dozen mixed muffins I planned to serve my customers in celebration of reopening the store. Today she wore a blue pinstriped uniform with a frilly white lace apron.

That was a surprise. I had expected questions about the crime scene. “No.”

My one-word answer didn’t stop the flow of Jessie’s conversation. “Her will makes interesting reading.
Very
interesting.”

My heart jumped. Dina had written about Magda’s new will in Sunday’s paper.

“She left money for the theater. . .well, that’s old news.” If you considered something that happened a week ago old news.

“And to that Suzanne Jay person. Your sister wrote quite a story.”

Jessie ended the statement with a question mark in her voice, but I didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, I pulled out a couple of bills and plunked them into her outstretched hand.

Undeterred, Jessie continued. “She left some money for Gene, of course. Not
the whole fortune. And she said that she wished she could bequeath her son a strong work ethic instead of money, but that is something he would have to learn for himself!” She mimicked Magda’s patrician tones perfectly.

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed and then felt guilty about it. It wasn’t funny for Gene to have his mother’s assessment of him broadcast across Lincoln County. If anything, it would make him mad.

Mad enough to murder? The question continued to bother me. I decided to ask Cord if he could verify Gene’s whereabouts yesterday afternoon. He might tell me things he would not reveal to the police.

I would have suspected Jessie of the usual Gaynor prejudice against the Grace family if I didn’t know that she carried on like this about every story around town.

“I understand that you were there when Dina discovered the body.” Jessie held my change in her hand, smiling brightly, as though she might give me an additional discount in exchange for further gory details.

“Yes. I have nothing to add to what she wrote for the
Herald
.”
I accepted the change and made my escape.

The phone in the store rang while I was pouring water into the coffee maker.

“How are you this morning?” Audie’s low, melodious voice smoothed the feelings ruffled by my stop at Gaynor gossip central.

“Jessie told me the terms of Magda’s will. But we already knew that, after Dina’s article.”

“Ah. Did you escape unscathed?”

I laughed. “More or less. I had already read Dina’s article.”

“Speaking of Magda’s will.” Audie paused. “Lauren has invited me to his office this evening to learn the terms of the trust fund. I thought you would want to come with me. I confess, Magda’s death has me rattled. How can we continue with the play? And is her offer for a lifetime contract still valid now that she’s dead?”

He sounded so discouraged. “Of course I’ll come with you. Lauren’s office. What time?” I couldn’t imagine what he could do to resurrect the play. He hadn’t appointed an understudy for the role of Abby Brewster. But we didn’t need to figure it out today. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure everything will be all right.”

“Is six okay?”

“Sure. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.” We continued in that vein while the coffee finished brewing. After hanging up the phone, I poured myself a cup and opened the box of muffins. One advantage of owning the store was first pick. One disadvantage was the temptation to go for second and third picks. I went for the raspberry-orange muffin. It should blend flavors with the raspberry mocha coffee.

So Lauren Packer wanted to see us tonight. Maybe I could slip in a few questions about the murders. Or maybe he would bring up the subject.

The front doorbell rang, and my first customers arrived. Traffic remained busy throughout the day. People wanted to see the spot where Spencer had died. If they were disappointed by the remodeled store, they didn’t say so. Others grilled me about discovering Magda’s body, and a few even mentioned the pearls. I might as well have spilled the whole story to Jessie. Instead, she would hear a garbled second hand version.

I answered their questions with a minimum of words and turned their attention to the ’40s clothing that hung on special racks. Big band music buoyed my mood and a few customers hummed along. By the time I closed up shop, record sales had filled my cash drawer. I would have to make a bank deposit and pick up extra change. Apparently, murder was good for business.

At five minutes to six, Audie walked through the back door, a bouquet of yellow daffodils in his hands. “I thought you could use some cheering up.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” I kissed him and placed the flowers in a green glass vase that I kept by the cash register. “They’re beautiful! Thanks.” I looked at the depleted clothing racks and sighed. “I’ll have to come back and restock the showroom after we meet with Lauren. Let’s go learn what the vulture has to say.”

We walked to Lauren’s office, down the block and across the street, the second floor of an office building situated next to the old courthouse. The elevator seemed at least a hundred years old when we rode in the creaking shaft. At least the air-conditioning worked. That was nice. The door to Lauren’s office stood ajar, and the lawyer himself strode out of his inner sanctum, hands extended, and a smile baring too-straight teeth.

I could imagine his great-grandfather walking out of the same office a hundred years ago, with the same pointed chin and bright teeth, fingers resting on his suspenders. Until the recent mess, I had looked forward to dressing Lauren for his role of Mortimer Brewster in
Arsenic and Old Lace
.
Now such everyday pleasures had dimmed, especially with the future of the play in jeopardy.

“Audie, Cici! Thank you for coming. Very pleased to see you both, I’m sure. Come in, come in.”

Photographs of Oklahoma birds, including the state bird, a scissor-tailed flycatcher, adorned the walls, and examples of taxidermy flanked the law books on his shelves. A bevy of birds flew around a birdfeeder outside his window. I felt like I had wandered into an aviary instead of into a lawyer’s office.

I sat in one of the chairs facing his desk, a deep peacock blue. Audie sat next to me. We clasped hands and waited for Lauren to speak.

“I’m sure you want to know how Mrs. Mallory settled things before her, hmm, untimely demise.” Lauren sat behind the desk and put on reading glasses. His chin bobbed up and down while he sorted through the papers in a plain manila folder. He extracted a few pages and slid them to Audie. “Here is a copy of the trust fund Magda created for the arts complex. Information regarding the theater is included in Section Two.”

“So plans for the arts center are going forward?”

“Absolutely.”

Audie and I bent over the papers, our knees touching, our hands holding the document by opposite edges. We read through it, nodding for permission before turning a page. Through the screen window I recognized the call of a siskin.

Under Section Two, Paragraph C, Item 2, I saw the words “Audwin Howe shall be director of the Magda Grace Mallory Theater for as long as it is his desire to remain so. The terms of his employment shall be
. . .
”

My sigh trilled in a squeak, as if echoing the birds outside the window. Audie didn’t make a sound but his hand squeezed mine. We read the generous arrangements that Magda had made.

Lauren beamed at us. “Mrs. Mallory was very pleased with the job you are doing with the theater, Audie. She hoped that you would settle in Grace Gulch.

Audie lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I have found the greatest treasure of my life in this town.”

“Good, good.”

Audie’s gaze dropped back to the papers. “Who is the theater’s new owner?”

Did it matter? Magda had guaranteed his job.

Lauren hemmed and hawed. “We must notify the beneficiaries.”

“Of course,” Audie murmured.

What few secrets hadn’t been revealed by Dina’s article.

“—but I can tell you that Mrs. Mallory arranged for decisions regarding the art center, including the theater, to rest with a board, not with an individual.”

“Who are the board members? Gene, I suppose. What about you?” Audie lifted his eyebrows at the lawyer.

Or Suzanne? I struggled to keep silent.

“Well, yes, as her lawyer, I will be involved. The director of the complex will be an ex-officio board member, as well.”

The complex director? That person would be Audie’s boss.

“Until the city hires the director, I will oversee the theater as executor of Mrs. Mallory’s estate.” He curled the papers in his hands like talons. “We must meet soon to discuss the current production.”

Did Lauren want to exert control over the theater already? Audie’s grip on my hand tightened. His face gave away nothing, however—an actor’s control.

The papers confirmed what we already guessed, and held no major surprises. Lauren might interfere for the next few months, but that shouldn’t present problems. Unless, of course, Lauren was the murderer
.