Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders (22 page)

Homecoming.
He looked like he had at long last returned to the place he belonged.

Scary sensations bubbled up my throat, making it hard for me to speak. “Audie. What’s going on?”

23

From: Jane Marple ([email protected])

Date: Thursday, May 1, 9:36 PM

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

Subject: Magda Grace Mallory’s pearls

You found Magda Grace Mallory’s body.

If you want to learn more about her pearls, talk to Lola Lambert.

Friday, May 2

Audie drew a deep breath, as if to compose himself, and took my hands. “A group of churches in the Oklahoma City area just bought this building. They want to start a theater ministry.”

One shoe dropped and echoed in my mind. I looked around the empty room, the space begging to be used. “And?”

“They’ve asked me to be the director.”

The second shoe fell, a silent thud. I dug out a tissue from my purse, dusted off a folding choir, and sat down. How could Audie exclude me from this important decision?

“Please say something.”

“Something.” When Audie didn’t smile at my feeble joke, I continued. “How long have they been in communication with you?”

“About a month.”

I uncapped the bottle of water I carried in my purse and took a long drink. Maybe it would cool off my increasing anger. What could I say?

“So this was your secret.” My voice was as flat as the Oklahoma panhandle.

“Yes.” If Audie sensed my hesitation, he didn’t respond. Instead he trotted to the farthest corner of the room. “Listen.” His excited whisper carried clearly. “The acoustics are perfect. This theater is a gem.” He took me on the grand tour, showing me dressing rooms, entrances and exits, and such.

Nothing much registered; my thoughts took a different road. I had guessed that Audie wouldn’t stay in Grace Gulch forever, in spite of the provision in Magda’s will. But so soon? Before we even married? Tears gathered behind my eyes.

Audie stopped at center stage. “You know I’ve always felt theater was my calling. I could do a variety of things here. Some community theater, maybe some musicals, definitely biblical dramas.”

I felt like the audience on the receiving end of a performance and not his future wife. Why didn’t my normally sensitive fiancé pick up on my hesitation?

He grasped my hands between his. “The pay is good, very good. I want to provide for our family. This may be my best chance.”

What about Grace Gulch? What about my store? I couldn’t meet his eyes. Those deep pools of blue would bore into mine, begging me to dream with him. I felt more than saw his shrug.

“I could commute. It’s not that far. I feel like this theater could really minister to people. I know that Magda guaranteed me a lifetime position with the MGM. But with Lauren as acting director of the Center for the Arts. . .” Audie blew out a breath. “Well, let’s just say he’s a better actor than a boss. Magda had a knack for management; I don’t think Lauren does.”

Lauren. I was growing to hate the name. Possible murderer and thief and now husband-stealer.

“Look at me.” Audie lifted my chin with his finger. My lack of enthusiasm had doused the fire in his eyes. “I won’t accept this job if you don’t want me to. I would never do anything to hurt you. I have to agree with Wilde’s definition of selfishness. ‘Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live; It is asking others to live as one wishes to live.’ I want to love you like Christ loved the church.”

Oh, Audie
.
I pressed my lips together to keep from crying. In that case, why did you wait so long to tell me about this job offer?

“I realized that Pastor Waldberg was right. I was hogging this offer to myself when I should have trusted you with it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Please forgive me?”

I looked into clear eyes which reflected nothing but love and honor, and I touched my engagement ring. I opened my mouth to say yes, but instead what came out was “How could you?” I began crying in earnest.

“I’m so sorry.” He put his arms around me and repeated his apology. “I was wrong. I know that now, and I won’t do it again.”

He kissed me then, a gentle caress, one that reaffirmed and renewed our commitment. “Just pray about it, will you?”

I smiled at him through a blur of tears and promised I would. We left a few minutes later. City dwellers might consider the drive back to Grace Gulch a short commute, although nothing could beat the five-minute drive from my house to the store. He dropped me off a few minutes before noon.

Dina, her pink hair almost complementing the ’80s punk rocker look she adopted for the store, reported a brisk morning’s sales. “I did some research on Marjorie Dresbach, the WASP officer you featured in your window display. Interesting! I’d like to write a feature on her.” She waxed eloquent on the subject, her reporter’s enthusiasm engaged.

What would my sister do if Audie accepted the other position? Would the new director of the MGM use her services as props manager? I wouldn’t stay involved, not without Audie; theater was the lifeblood of our romance. I couldn’t spend evening rehearsals with him in Moore. Our dreams seemed headed in different directions, dreams that could tear our lives apart. What had Pastor Waldberg said, that couples with a 70 percent score on the compatibility test would need good conflict resolution skills? I never expected to have his assessment put to the test so soon. I wanted to follow Audie’s leading, but what about my hopes and goals? More than anything, why hadn’t Audie told me as soon as the offer came up? I stewed about it all afternoon.

Suzanne came into the store about mid-afternoon. Audie’s possible change of jobs might also disrupt her life, although I doubted any director would let go of the most experienced performer in Grace Gulch. I was tempted to ask her but couldn’t betray his confidence.

“I wanted to thank you for coming by the other day. Enid has visited, too, but that’s been about it.”

Bless our pastor’s wife for doing what she could in Suzanne’s grief.

Suzanne’s smile would seem sincere to someone who didn’t know her actress’s tricks. “I’m trying to think the best of everyone. No one knows quite what to say, you see. Do they mention the fact that Magda was my mother or not? Those are the kind ones. Others can’t decide whether to congratulate me on my good fortune or to suspect me of hastening her to an untimely end.”

“Have the police given you any more trouble?” Frances had indicated suspicion fell on my friend.

Suzanne shook her head. She examined a cloche like the one Gene Tierney wore in the movie
Laura
and placed it on her head. It suited her. “They’re satisfied with my alibi. But that doesn’t stop the gossip.” She adjusted the angle of the hat. “I’ll buy it.”

“Magda’s gone home.” I wrapped the hat in tissue paper before laying it inside a hat box. “To a better place.”

“And best of all, I’ll get to see her again.” This time Suzanne’s smile was genuine. “Magda was so happy when I became a Christian. But I can’t help thinking what if. The murderer robbed me of something precious.”

“I miss my mother, too.” I dreamed of the sage advice she could have shared about my conundrum with Audie. Even if she couldn’t advise me, she would have listened.

“That’s right. You lost your mother when you were in high school.”

Junior high, actually, but I didn’t correct her.

Another customer came in, and we couldn’t continue our conversation. Suzanne left without our speaking further. During a lull in business, I checked my e-mail.

If you want to learn more about her pearls, talk to Lola Lambert
, it read. This e-mail came from Jane Marple, the sleuth in the same mystery that featured Jerry Burton and Elsie Holland. Was it the same person?

But—Magda’s
pearls
?

Everyone assumed the motive behind Magda’s death lay in the disbursement of her fortune. I wanted to confirm my hunch that another reason stemmed from events buried in the past. I had to get to the nursing home to talk to Mrs. Lambert.

Dina returned about mid-afternoon. “Did I leave my hat here?”

I retrieved her pink embroidered “Girls Rule!” ball cap from the shelf underneath the cash register. She had exchanged the leather vest she wore in the morning for a pink T-shirt. She looked like cotton candy on two legs. “Great! Peppi and I are going bike riding after we study.”

Peppi
.
Maybe Dina knew if her friend was related to Mrs. Lambert. “Do you study at her family’s home?” I hoped that the roundabout question would start the ball rolling. A direct question would arouse Dina’s investigative instincts.

“She lives here on her own. No family in the area.” Dina scrunched up her face. “Wait a minute. She’s mentioned a grandmother who lives close by.”

“That’s nice. It must be lonely, far away from her family. Maybe we should invite her over for Sunday dinner.” Mrs. Lambert had to be Peppi’s grandmother.

“I’ll ask her.” Dina sketched a wave and left.

During another lull in the afternoon’s business, I called Lauren Packer’s office. I thought I could determine his alibi for the time of Magda’s murder, if I could catch his part-time secretary. Young Wilma Olmstead was beauty-pageant pretty, if you discounted her habit of chewing gum. Lucky for me, thoughts rattled around in her head like stray marbles. Hopefully, my questions wouldn’t arouse any suspicions.

“Lauren Packer, attorney at law.” Wilma spoke with the clear, crisp tones of an actress. Audie should recruit her for his next production. If there was a next production. If he was here to direct it.

“Hi, Wilma, this is Cici Wilde. I’m afraid that I’ve gotten things confused, with everything that’s been going on.” I paused. Was I lying? Not really. I did intend to make a will after the wedding.

“Mr. Packer offered to meet me at his office on Saturday afternoon. I know that’s a special kindness. I thought the appointment was tomorrow, but when I looked at my date book, I had written down last Saturday, at two. I don’t know if I wrote down the wrong date or what.”

Lauren often made his own appointments. Wilma wouldn’t question me.

I heard Wilma ruffling through paper. “I’m sorry, Cici. I don’t see your name listed for either Saturday.”

“That’s strange.” The pretend puzzlement I put into my voice would have impressed Audie. “I could swear he set up a special time for me on Saturday. Does he keep track of his weekend appointments? Maybe he forgot to write it down.” I held my breath after I reached the crucial point. I hoped Wilma would cooperate, not question my reason for asking.

I heard the rustle of pages. “No, he didn’t have any office appointments last weekend. He marked through both days with a big
X
, indicating he wouldn’t be coming in. He must have forgotten to write it down. I can reschedule. What time is convenient for you?”

“I’m not sure. Please don’t bother him about it. I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” And when I did make my will, I would go to my regular lawyer, Georgia Hafferty.

I felt guilty for misleading Wilma, who was so friendly and helpful. What had I learned, after all? So what if Lauren was out of the office on a Saturday afternoon? No one expected a lawyer to keep weekend hours. Still, it suggested he had opportunity, and we already knew his motive.

I dug out my steno pad and made notes of my conversation with Wilma before the end-of-day rush started. What other leads could I investigate? Did I need an excuse to visit Mrs. Lambert? I didn’t think so.

On impulse, I called Enid Waldberg, the pastor’s wife, and asked her to go with me to the nursing home. “I need to speak with Mrs. Lambert.” I explained the strange e-mail and the questions it raised about Magda’s pearls. “She seems to know something. I’d appreciate your company. You might help neutralize the atmosphere.”

“Of course.” Enid’s gentle laughter came down the line. “I’ll be happy to be your Watson for the evening.” She arrived at the store a few minutes after six, and we drove straight over to the senior facility.

Mrs. Lambert sat in the same green chair as last week, her back ramrod straight, fire sparkling in her dark eyes. She might be unpleasant, but her passion for life stood out among the people who suffered from Alzheimer’s or worse. I shuddered.

Enid returned greetings to a few residents, inquiring after grandchildren and bingo tournaments. At last she neared our target.

“Mrs. Lambert. How are you this evening?” Enid used her best pastor’s wife voice. She was dressed in confidence-inviting attire, a soft, pink sweater over grey linen slacks. Curling brown hair gone to gray framed her face.

“You’re Enid Waldberg. From that Word of Faith Church.”

“That’s right. And this is my friend, Cici Wilde.”

Coal-colored eyes focused on me. “You were here the other day, wearing that harlot’s necklace.”

24

From: Jenna Wilde ([email protected])

Date: Thursday, May 1, 4:12 PM

To: Lauren Packer ([email protected])

Subject: Monday appointment

Mr. Packer:

This e-mail confirms our interview at 10 AM on Monday, May 5.

I look forward to discussing the opportunity you mentioned during our phone conversation

Jenna Wilde

The Wilde West Art Gallery

Taos, NM

Friday, May 2

At least Mrs. Lambert’s hostile statement about the pearls gave me an opening.

“Yes, I wore pearls. It sounds like there’s quite a story behind the necklace.”

“That Mallory woman.” Mrs. Lambert harrumphed. “Sit down. I can’t talk to you when you’re towering over me.”

Enid pulled two chairs close.

“Why do you call Mrs. Mallory. . .” I couldn’t bring myself to use the word “harlot.” I cleared my throat and restarted. “Why did you dislike Mrs. Mallory?”

Mrs. Lambert settled into serious storytelling mode. “People around here think she was some kind of saint, but I didn’t like her when she was alive, and I won’t pretend different now that she’s dead. My son, Philip, dated that harlot in college. He fancied himself in love with her and heard wedding bells. One Christmas he asked for my pearls to give to her.” She responded to the surprised look on my face. “Yep. They belonged to my family. My pa gave them to my ma. Well, the next thing he knew, that woman left Oklahoma for parts unknown. Broke his heart, she did. And now we all know what happened. That harlot went off and had a baby out of wedlock.”

Could Suzanne Jay be Mrs. Lambert’s grandchild?              She answered my silent question. “Not my boy’s baby. He was a godly man, kept himself pure for marriage.”

How can she be sure?
I kept my suspicions to myself; I tended to believe her. No wonder Magda gave away the pearls. Did she feel guilty every time she looked at the expensive reminder of a serious romance? Did she feel like she accepted them under false pretenses? I wondered if Magda had suspected that Peppi was the daughter of the boyfriend of her youth. If I got the pearls back to sell, I’d make restitution to Dina’s friend.

“How pleased you must have been when he found someone else to love,” Enid interjected. “God is so good at giving us second chances.”

Mrs. Lambert’s coal-colored eyes gleamed with pleasure. “That He did. I thanked God the day my Philip married Polly. And then they gave me those two darling grandchildren.”

“I believe I know your granddaughter. Peppi?”

“Peppi’s such a devoted granddaughter. She even moved back to Grace Gulch to be near me. She visits every week, you know.” Recognition blazed in her eyes. “Wait a minute. Are you related to that pink-haired young woman?”

At least “young woman” was polite. “Dina’s my sister.”

She harrumphed, expressing her opinion of pink hair and probably the world in general.

“Peter doesn’t visit often at all. He did invite me to his wedding.”

Peter Lambert, Peppi’s brother? Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater
.
We used to make fun of his pumpkin orange hair. He went to grade school with me and moved away after that. Peppi wouldn’t have started school yet, so I had never met her.

An attendant moved among the residents and approached us. She handed Mrs. Lambert a small pill.

Enid looked at me. Are you finished? I nodded.

“We’ve kept you too long.” Enid stood and wished Mrs. Lambert a good evening. I felt those coal eyes burning a hole in my back

When we reached the front door, Mrs. Lambert’s scratchy voice rang out, “Come back and see me any time. And bring that pink-haired gal with you.”

“She seems to like you.” The corners of Enid’s lips turned up. “Did you find out everything you needed?”

“That story about the pearls surprised me. No wonder she disliked Magda so much.” I climbed into the passenger seat of Enid’s van. “But there’s no way she crept out of the nursing home and committed murder.” It didn’t give Peppi a motive either, even if she knew. Why would she care about her father’s old girlfriend? Why, that would be like my future child killing off Cord because we once dated. It didn’t make sense.

Enid brought me to the parsonage for beef stew, redolent with garlic and a hint of apple juice, tender pearl onions, potatoes, and carrots. Her husband lost his fiery demeanor away from the pulpit. I watched the comfortable banter between husband and wife and ached over the problem with Audie. What if I had to leave Grace Gulch? Friends like Suzanne and Enid were rare jewels. I didn’t want to start over again somewhere else.
Lord, give Audie and me unity about Moore. Change my “wanter,” if that’s Your plan for us.

Saturday morning I put on my Rosie the Riveter outfit. The coveralls were comfortable until I had to use the restroom. The day spun forward, with too many customers to give me time to pursue my investigation. A good day’s business was worth the delay.

When I pulled into my driveway after work, a car with a rental company sticker waited on the street. My front door opened and a tornado dressed in a beaded, fringed jacket tore down the steps. Jenna, my wayfaring older sister, had returned and welcomed me to my own house. We hugged.

“Bet you didn’t expect to see me, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

I took note of the signs of Jenna’s presence. A single backpack hung on my coat rack, probably her only luggage. A faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air, and she had rearranged the pillows in my couch in an asymmetrical pattern. Today’s copy of the
Herald
was spread across the coffee table.

“C’mon to the kitchen. I made some coffee.”

I chose milk over coffee and cut up an apple. She dug a packet of sweetener out of her jeans pocket and poured it into her cup.

“This is
the week we’re getting fitted for the bridesmaids’ dresses, isn’t it?”

Given recent events, I had put off making a decision about the dresses. But I still had a week; the fitting was scheduled for next Saturday. Why was she here a week early?

She must have read my mind. “Oh, I know I’m early. I thought we could hang out together? Next thing you know, you’ll be an old married lady, and I’ll be the old maid aunt.”

“Not that soon, I hope.” I didn’t doubt Jenna’s desire for “sister” time, but I was equally sure she had ulterior motives in showing up seven days early. In the past, she couldn’t wait to get out of our small town.

“Soon enough.” She blew on her coffee. “You’re the first Wilde girl to settle down and get married. Who’d a thunk it?”

Jenna’s words revealed regret she seldom expressed. She gave birth to Dina at fifteen and had wisely given her baby to Mom and Dad to raise. Now I wondered if she left Grace Gulch after high school because it was too painful to stay. She steered clear of further romance.

“There’s someone special out there just for you, I’m sure of it.” I patted her shoulder. “If God could bring Audie here all the way from Chicago—”

“Enough of that.” Jenna shrugged off my attempt at solace. “This is your big day coming up. Tell me about your plans.” She wiggled her eyebrows, a trick I envied. “And fill me in on the murders.” Amber light glowed in her hazel eyes, so like Dina’s. Her zest for life filled my kitchen.

“Where do I start?” I expected “at the beginning” in reply. Wasn’t that the standard answer?

Instead, she asked, “What’s the first thing that pops into your mind when I say ‘wedding’?”

“Move.” I didn’t really just say that, did I?
Jenna was the last person I wanted to discuss Audie’s job offer with. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe she could give me an outsider’s perspective.

My answer left her speechless for a moment. “Are you and Audie planning to move after the wedding?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I told her about the theater in Moore. “We could still live in Grace Gulch, but then he’d have to commute. I would never see him, between my store hours and his evening rehearsals.”

Tears spilled out of my eyes. Part wedding jitters, part grief for Magda, part worry about the thief who invaded my store, my
life
, flowed. Jenna put her arms around my shoulders, not saying a word. At long last I stopped crying.

Jenna brought me a cup of spearmint tea, one of the varieties of herbal infusions she introduced me to years ago, and waited while I mopped up my face with a damp washcloth.

“I bet the cry did you good. What a rotten week.” She dished out a bowl of ice cream, ultimate comfort from someone who avoided dessert like Texas in July. “But you’re getting in a tizzy about unimportant stuff. You love Audie, and he loves you. And that’s all that matters.”

A wistful look flitted across her face, so fast that I almost missed it. I wondered again if my carefree older sister hid a secret longing for home and family.

“God will show you where He wants you to live.”

And as she said it, I believed her. I trusted God, and I trusted Audie. God wouldn’t lead us in opposite directions. Whatever the compatibility test hinted about the success of our marriage, whether we lived in Grace Gulch or Moore, or even New York City someday, God would show us the way. “I can’t wait.” At that moment, I wanted to fast forward through murder investigations, the play production on hold because of the death of its leading lady, and decisions to be made about the future, to the day of our wedding on a perfect June evening at twilight.

“Promise me you won’t elope.” Jenna’s voice had a lilting, teasing quality. “Dina would never forgive you.”

“Neither would Dad. I’m not sure if he’s looking forward to marrying off one of his daughters or if he’s sorry to see me go.” No doubt he would be unhappy if I moved away from Grace Gulch the way Jenna had. I felt the stirrings of empathy for her decision to escape the confines of family expectations at the age of eighteen. I knew she would support us, whichever job Audie accepted.

“Ready to look at wedding dresses now?” She patted a gallon-sized Ziploc bag she had laid on the table.

I laughed. “I’ve got my own stack.” I disappeared into the study and came back with a folder of catalog pages and computer printouts of wedding dresses I liked. That was the problem. I liked so many of them and couldn’t decide if I wanted a simple, nostalgic wedding reminiscent of the nineteenth century, an elegant wedding with full skirt and train that would have done Grace Kelly proud, or something more contemporary like an Augusta Jones dress. I advised people all day on what clothes to choose. Why couldn’t I decide for myself?

Jenna sorted my printouts into two piles, one much smaller than the other. I assumed they were “possible” and “definitely not.” I studied one of the rejects.

“What’s wrong with this one?” I rather liked the contemporary style, strapless, with silver bands adorning the bodice.

“Uh-uh. You would never be comfortable in a strapless dress.”

I looked at it again. She was right. It looked good on the model and maybe on me, but it felt too immodest. Another reject looked a bit like something straight out of Jane Austin with a dash of the early twentieth century added in. “What’s wrong with this one?”

Jenna looked at me as if I had lost my senses. “It’s all wrong for you. You’ve got a lovely shape—I’ve always rather envied you that—and you want Audie to see his beautiful bride, not a washboard in white walking down the aisle.”

I looked at the pleated front of the dress and laughed at Jenna’s washboard description. She did have a point.

“Don’t second guess me.” Jenna wagged her finger at me as I ruffled through the rest of the rejects. “You know fashion, but I know what looks good. I deal in art. I can visualize it on you.” She paused at the next catalog page. “Oh, my, this is perfect.” She looked from me to the picture and back again. “Yes. Definitely.”

I couldn’t stand the suspense. I snatched the paper from her hand, ready to argue with her opinion. Instead my breath caught in my throat as the perfect dress jumped off the page. Demure and romantic, contemporary yet classic, the dress captured my essence and would show off my best points. I flung my arms around Jenna.

“You’re the best big sister a girl could ever have.”