Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders (21 page)

I found a blank page and wrote “pearl found in Peppi’s cubicle” at the top of the page. Of course, someone else connected to the theater could have planted it there. I flipped back through the previous pages. Unless I wanted to include everyone in Grace Gulch, because we all had some kind of connection to Magda, the same pool of suspects applied. They all had access to the theater.

I went through the familiar names in light of my discovery. Audie
.
As with the threatening emails, he had the best opportunity to plant something in Peppi’s cubby. I couldn’t imagine any connection between Audie and the pearls; however, the police would.

I ran my fingers over Magda’s page and tapped the note at the bottom. “Murdered” was written in dark letters, circled, and underlined.

Suzanne Jay. Did the pearls have any connection with the illicit romance that resulted in her birth?

Lauren Packer. Was he scamming Magda? Locating high-priced goods for Spencer to steal, including the pearls? Did she threaten him? Could he have tried to substitute paste jewelry for the real thing? I shook my head. If so, he failed. The necklace in my keeping was the real thing.

I wanted to skip the pages for the mayor, Cord, and Gene. Why would they kill her? They were Magda’s closest relatives, which put them under the microscope. Okay, perhaps the necklace was related to some family secret; perhaps they didn’t like Magda’s decision to give away a family heirloom. They might know about the history of the jewelry, some unknown fact that would point to a motive. I thought of Gene’s injured finger. Could I learn when he had it set?

As props person for the theater, Dina had handled the pearls. History repeated itself because last fall, she had also handled the murder weapon that shot Penn Hardy. In fact, she was the only person, besides me, that I knew had touched them. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I hoped that the police wouldn’t focus on her as a suspect.             

Next up were Peppi and the mysterious Mrs. Lambert who accused “that harlot” of taking the pearls. How could I interrogate a senile old woman? For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single reason why Peppi would want to kill either Vic Spencer or Magda Grace Mallory.

The last name on my list was Frances Waller. I knew of no connection between her and the pearls. I didn’t really think the police officer was a murderer.

The only solid clue I had was the pearl in Peppi’s cubbyhole, which anyone could have dropped there.

Back to square one.

22

From: Cici Wilde (Cici’[email protected])

Date: Thursday, May 1, 9:17 AM

To: Audwin Howe ([email protected])

Subject: Secrets?

Audie. . .we need to have a serious talk. When I called your cell phone, I got a message that said you were “out of area.”

Where do you keep disappearing to? Remember the pastor’s words.

Call me tomorrow.

Thursday, May 1

I set my notes aside when Frances arrived, but pulled them out again at home. This time I prioritized my suspects.

I discounted most of them. Audie and Suzanne had alibis for one of the murders. Cord had only limited opportunity and no known motive. Dina, Frances? They didn’t make sense.

That left Gene and Lauren. They both had strong apparent motives for murdering Magda. I debated about Peppi. I found the pearl in her cubby, but someone could have planted it there. What motive did she have to harm Magda or Spencer? Still, I included her among the strong suspects in the murders. I would focus my questions on those three.

Ideas for pursuing answers played around in my head as I sorted through my closet for what to wear tomorrow. A black-and-white flowered rayon Rockabilly dress—perfect. Before I changed into my nightgown, I heard a sharp rap at the door. Who on earth?

I opened the door, and Audie immediately gathered me in his arms. “I’ve missed you.” He kissed me as if a week had passed since he had seen me, instead of a single day. “I’m sorry I missed your call.”

“I went to the theater tonight,” I told him. “I thought you might be there?” I made it into a question.

“I couldn’t settle down to work, so I took a drive to clear my head.”

I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to conduct an argument on my front porch. “Come on in.”

“Maybe, for a few minutes.”

He followed me into the silent living room. I flicked the radio on low volume, as was my habit.

“Would you like some tea? Coffee?” I headed toward the kitchen, anticipating his answer.

“No, thanks. Can you close your store tomorrow?”

That stopped me in mid-stride. “Close the store? I just reopened. Why?”

“I want to show you something.” Audie smiled, but the cloudy blue of his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. “It will only take a few hours. Like you said, we need to talk.”

Two different ideas flew into my head at the same time. Was Audie ready to tell me his “good” secret? In that case, I couldn’t refuse. Also, I needed time away from the store to continue my investigation.

“Of course. I’ll ask Dina to cover for me while I’m gone.” This semester she had several online classes and never minded coming in when I needed her. “Can we go in the morning?”

Relief at my answer turned Audie’s eyes back to a clear twilight blue, stars sparkling in his eyes. “Yes,” he said and he kissed me good night.

I went through my bedtime routine with a happier mood than the last several evenings. I reconsidered the next day’s outfit in light of my new plans. Everyone in Grace Gulch knew my penchant for wearing everything from half bustles to polyester, but the rockabilly outfit might look outlandish once we left town. I decided on a black dress, always timeless, even if this one had square shoulders, belted waist, and a military cut that had ’40s stamped all over it. Magda’s pearls would have been the perfect accessory for this dress. I put my head in my hands and allowed myself a quiet sob over my friend’s death.
Oh, Lord, I want to bring her murderer to justice. Help me.

~

I awoke earlier than usual and studied my notes. In case the opportunity to ask questions arose today, I wanted to prepare. After a little thought, I logged into the MGM web site where we had posted publicity photos in happier days. I printed them out and tucked them in my purse.

Audie, dressed in blue jeans and a denim shirt that made his eyes shine, picked me up at my house at eight. His casual attire told me a little about our destination; we weren’t headed anywhere stuffy, like an office.

He whistled. “Don’t you look good, soldier girl.”

I saluted him smartly, and he laughed. “Do you want to stop by Gaynor Goodies before we leave?”

I agreed, and we exchanged banter on the way to the store. I felt more light-hearted than I had in days. The prospect of spending a morning with Audie did that for me. We were laughing as we walked into the bakery.

Jessie, dressed today in a peacock blue uniform with pinstripe apron, raised an eyebrow when she saw us enter together. “The happy couple. I don’t often see you together. Busy with wedding plans today?”

I couldn’t answer if I wanted to because I didn’t know our destination. But that wouldn’t stop Jessie from spreading a story about honeymoon plans or some such thing by day’s end. I bought cookies to drop off with Dina, and one bran muffin and a large cup of regular coffee for myself. I indulge in the leaded version in the mornings. Audie bought a bagel swimming in cream cheese. After a brief stop by my store, we headed down the turnoff that would take us to Route 66.

“Do you mind if we stop at any pawnshops we run across between here and wherever we’re going?” I wouldn’t give Audie the satisfaction of asking him for details about our secret destination. I would let him surprise me. I fished the cast photographs out of my purse. “They might have seen Spencer or his accomplice selling the stolen items.”

“Can’t get you away from your murder inquiries, can I?” Audie grumbled, but he smiled. “Have at it, my dear Miss Marple.” He glanced at me, and his eyes lit with pleasure. “Although looking like that, perhaps I should call you Mrs. North.”

“Why, Mr. North, we’re not even married yet.” Secretly I was pleased.

Ahead of us, a trio of neon signs flashed on and off.
Pa ’n hop
—the same stores I had visited last week with Dina and Peppi.               No one recognized anyone in our photographs.

“Don’t worry,” Audie said. “I’m sure the thief went farther afield. We’ll stop at more places along the way. Unless you’re in a hurry to get back?”

“Dina can stay as long as I need her today.”

We stopped one more time before we hit Route 66, and Audie wandered off the highway a couple of times to locate pawnshops. Again, none of the clerks could identify anyone in the pictures. My hopes flagged.

We hit pay dirt in Arcadia, at a pawnshop within sight of the red roof of the town’s famous round barn. This particular establishment had some nice jewelry for sale, unlike the other stores, which sold mostly junk.

I showed my pictures to the clerk, a beefy, muscled guy who looked like he would be more comfortable on the back of a bucking bronco than behind a counter. “Do you know if you’ve dealt with these people any time in the last six months or so? They told me about some earrings I would like to wear at my wedding.”

He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. He must hear a dozen hard luck stories a week. People didn’t sell good pieces like the hypothetical earrings I had mentioned for fun. I doubted that he cared about their reasons. He barely glanced at the pictures and shook his head. “Nope.”

Audie stepped in. “Bob.” He glimpsed the man’s left hand where he wore a wedding band, then he looked him in the eye with all his actor’s sincere ability. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

“Yessiree!” Bob the bronco buster transformed into a good ole boy. “Me and Missy got hitched at Christmas.”

“And you remember how Missy wanted everything perfect for the wedding, don’t you?”

Bob’s head nodded up and down.

“That’s how my fiancée here feels about finding the right earrings. She wants to wear them at the wedding. Something old, you know? Her mind can’t rest until she finds them.”

It was a version of the truth. I had occupied myself with the hunt for the murderer to the exclusion of everything else, including wedding plans.

“So if you could look at these pictures a little more carefully, we’d appreciate it.”

Audie’s man to man talk did the trick. Bob spread the prints across the counter. “It wasn’t either of these women.” He put aside Suzanne and Peppi’s pictures. “But this guy has been in here a couple of times.” He pointed to Lauren Packer’s photo. “What was your jewelry like? Maybe I’ll remember it.”

“Why, thank you,” I burbled, as excited as the jittery bride Audie had described. “That’s
so
helpful. I remember now.” I described a necklace listed among the burgled items.

Bob’s face lit up. “I remember that necklace.” The smile fled. “But I’m afraid that it’s already been sold. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s disappointing. Maybe Lauren has some of the other items.” I made myself sound discouraged and not elated. “I’ll ask him as soon as we get home. Maybe it’s not too late.”

I refrained from skipping until we exited the store. Then I allowed myself a small hop of joy. “That confirms it.”

“Lauren Packer and Vic Spencer were working together in a burglary ring,” Audie agreed. “No wonder they had their eyes on Magda’s pearls.”

Should I tell the police? No, Frances had dismissed that whole connection. My satisfaction lasted as clerks at two more stores along the way confirmed that Lauren Packer had utilized their services. By then I was trying to tie the burglaries into the murders.

“Do you think Spencer argued with Lauren? And so he killed him?”

“And Magda somehow guessed and so he killed her, too?” Audie considered the possibility. “Lauren must have known about Suzanne. Before all the brouhaha, I mean. When Magda had him change her will.”

“Lauren might have blackmailed Magda about a secret she revealed to him herself. That would be an awfully sick thing to do, taking advantage of your client like that. No wonder Shakespeare said, ‘First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.’”

“I never have liked Lauren. Oh, he knows how to turn on the charm. He plays Mortimer Brewster to perfection. But when he’s just being himself. . .I don’t know. He feels cold, somehow.” Audie drummed the black leather on his steering wheel. “Do you want to stop anywhere else? Or can you put it out of your mind for a few minutes?”

I tilted back my head and let out a long sigh. “I can do that.” Bright April sunshine streamed through the windshield, warming my face and teasing the worries out of my heart. A soft breeze wafted through the trees, turning over the leaves on the oak trees, swaying the purple heather like sea grass. It was a perfect spring day, and I was with the man I loved. I shut blackmail and murder out of my mind.

On our way out of Arcadia, we drove past several cafés. Audie pointed to the out-of-state license plates of the cars in the parking lot. “I bet I can guess which people are the tourists.” The smug smile on his face made me want to laugh. He had settled into life in Grace Gulch, but as long as he kept those flat Chicago vowels, no one would ever mistake him for an Okie.

Soon city sprawl replaced the back country road. Audie was driving to the suburbs around Oklahoma City. The area had been built up since my last visit to the state capital. Several years of nonstop construction had improved the I-35/240 exchange. We passed by the Ford Center, home to the recently relocated OKC Thunder. I doubted that even an NBA team would ever take the place of the Sooners and the Cowboys in the hearts of true Okies, however.

Could Audie understand that kind of passion for college sports, coming as he did from a city that boasted not only one but two major league baseball teams? My thoughts flashed to the compatibility questionnaire, with its question about similar backgrounds. Sports were the least of our differences. Today, maybe, I would learn Audie’s secret.

I kept up a running commentary on all the changes. It might seem like small potatoes to my big-city fiancé, but I reveled in the progress. I only hoped that it would never reach Lincoln County. I didn’t want big city life to invade Grace Gulch.

When we headed into Moore, I wondered just how far Audie intended to drive today. “We’re almost there,” Audie broke his silence. He exited the highway and made a few turns until we reached a quiet corner near the city center. A domed white brick building in need of some repair sat back from the street. The exterior suggested marble archways and cool interiors. A sign stood on the lawn, overgrown grass piercing the broken glass. The words M
OORE
C
OMMUNITY
C
ENTER
were written in faded black paint.

“We’re here.” Audie opened the door for me, and we stood at the edge of unkempt grass, looking at the building. He took my hand and led me to the entrance.

“A theater?”

In answer, he took a brass key from his pocket and opened the door. Cool air greeted us. A few dusty, wooden folding chairs dotted the floor in front of a stage, a very intimate setting, room for maybe two hundred seats. Definitely a theater, smaller than the MGM. Why did Audie have a door key?

Streaming sunlight set Audie’s hair afire with a deep golden color. He tilted his head as if to absorb the atmosphere of the place. I tried to identify the emotions that played across his features.