Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders (8 page)

8

From: Elsie Holland ([email protected])

Date: Monday, April 21, 9:35 PM

To: Ronald Grace ([email protected])

Subject: Campaign Funding

You reported only $1,000 spent on last year’s reelection campaign. Your newspaper advertising alone cost at least that much. What are you trying to hide?

Expect further communication from me on the subject.

Tuesday, April 22

Mayor Ron must have sensed the disinterest in the upcoming press conference. No one wanted to get up early—well, early after staying up late for rehearsal—to hear about plans for the Memorial Day parade or something equally distant.

He winked. “It concerns the theater.”

That caught our attention. He refused to give any further details. Since I worked in town, I decided to check it out. Dina, or maybe Peppi, would be there, of course, to cover breaking news for the
Herald
.
I wondered who else would show up besides Magda, as owner, and Audie, as director.

The next morning, I locked the door to my store to attend the press conference. The entire cast had assembled to hear the announcement, as well as the city council and a handful of other citizens, including the high school art teacher. Dina and Peppi waited by the podium where the mayor would make his announcement. Cord arrived in his truck, along with his temporary ranch hand and cousin, Gene Mallory, and his ever present companion, Bobo the dog. Frances left the city building, which also housed police headquarters and walked across the street to join them. I caught sight of Lauren leaving his office.

Since my store was closed until repairs were finished, I had dressed in contemporary clothing. It felt good to wear jeans and a T-shirt, like everyone else, and not be stifled in a bustle. I still pulled my rowdy hair back in a bun to keep it as neat as possible.

At one minute past nine, the mayor walked through the glass doors of the city building, accompanied by his sister Magda Mallory. Audie trailed the two.

Mayor Ron studied the assembled group. If the sparse audience disappointed him, he didn’t let it show. He beamed at us and stepped onto the platform, tapping the microphone to make sure it was live.

He began in his usual fashion, with the grand and glorious history of Grace Gulch. And if he emphasized the role of the Grace family in the growth of the town, who could blame him? After all, the town was named after his ancestor, Bob Grace, who claimed the first parcel of land in the land run of 1891. Today the mayor told the story of how Bob’s wife, Mary, founded a theater where the MGM stood today and brought culture to the frontier.

That was true. I took pride in those pioneer women, my own great-grandmother among them. They brought beauty, music, theater, and literature with them, determined not to leave civilization behind. Thanks to them, Grace Gulch boasted a great library for a town our size, a well-designed, year-round theater, and a good music education system for both children and adults. Unfortunately, the visual arts lagged behind. The occasional exhibits at the community college fell far below the standard set by the Philbrook and Gilcrease museums in Tulsa.

“It is our responsibility to continue that fine tradition. And to that end, we plan to open an up-to-date Center for the Arts right here in Grace Gulch.” He beckoned for Magda to come closer. “It is my pleasure to introduce my sister, Magda Grace Mallory.”

Magda, gray hair perfectly coiffed in spite of the stiff breeze blowing across the square, took her place behind the mike.

“It has always been my dream to bring Mary Grace’s dreams to fruition and to put Grace Gulch on the twenty-first century map of Oklahoma culture. The theater was the first step in that dream. By this time next year, we will begin construction on a museum that will feature the best local, western, and national artists.”

The mayor handed her a spool of fabric, and together they unwound the length. The banner read G
RACE
G
ULCH
C
ENTER
F
OR
T
HE
A
RTS
. I could imagine it going into the mayor’s office along with his other Grace memorabilia.

The audience responded with polite applause. Some kind of sports venue—say a new ball field—would have inspired more enthusiasm. But of course Magda Mallory, Grace Gulch’s leading patron of the arts, would suggest a museum.

My thoughts wandered. An art museum—that might draw my errant older sister back home. Jenna lived in Taos, New Mexico, and made her living buying and selling the fine artwork available there. Jenna, back in Grace Gulch? The idea left me unsettled.

A more urgent thought intruded. The museum—that must have been the subject of the secret meeting between Audie and Magda on the night of the murder. Maybe she asked him to keep it a secret until after the public announcement.

“At this time, the city council—” here she gestured at the group assembled behind her—“is holding a contest for the design of the museum and will seek construction bids by the beginning of summer.”

Audie approached the mike next. He looked handsome in his cream colored linen suit with the light breeze blowing his Nordic blond hair into casual disarray.

“‘We live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities.’ Oscar Wilde said that over a hundred years ago, but it’s still true today. We are fortunate to live in a country where we don’t often have to worry about physical needs like food, shelter, and clothing. We are free to indulge in spiritual necessities such as beauty, art, and culture.” He made a few congratulatory remarks about the Center for the Arts—how it would put Grace Gulch on the national cultural map and bring more tourists to our town and improve the quality of life and all that—and ended with a plug for the upcoming production of
Arsenic and Old Lace
.
He thanked Magda for her support of the theater and stepped away from the mike.

After the mayor ended his presentation, Dina peppered him with questions like a veteran. Peppi had questions for Audie and Magda, as well, so I decided to talk with my fiancé later.

“Want some coffee?” Frances Waller tapped me on my elbow. Out of uniform and with a touch of makeup, she looked lovely.

“Sure.” My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had skipped breakfast.

We walked in the direction of Gaynor Goodies. Cord lingered by the door to the bakery, face twisted in a frown. I followed the direction of his gaze—Gene Mallory. Magda’s son slipped into the crowd, hurrying away to some unknown destination, his dog, Bobo, trotting along behind.

Then, Cord caught sight of us, and he smiled. Frances’s step beside me quickened, a light color in her cheeks

“Good morning. I was hoping you’d join me.” Cord’s voice rumbled with something more than friendship as we walked through the door.

We paid for our purchases and found a table by the front window.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Cord arched an eyebrow at me. “I want to keep an eye out for Gene. Since we arrived together, I guess I have to wait for him to come back before I can leave.” He dunked a cake doughnut in black coffee. “Want some?” He offered a taste to Frances. She took a bite and giggled, sounding for the moment like she was back in high school.

I felt like a fifth wheel and wondered where Audie was. The doorbell jingled, and he walked in and waved at us. He bought a cup of Chai tea and a bagel and joined us at the table.

I wanted to ask Audie if Magda’s announcement was his big secret, but I wouldn’t, not in front of Cord and Frances. Instead, I pursued the topic of Gene Mallory with Cord.

“How is your cousin working out?”

I could guess the answer from the change in his demeanor. Not well. Look at the way Gene had left Cord without a word after the press conference. Everyone knew that Magda had pressured her nephew Cord into taking on his cousin Gene as a ranch hand.

“I wish I’d never agreed to let Gene work at the ranch.” The black expression on Cord’s face rivaled his coffee. “His work is slipshod. Old Bob Grace might have been a cowhand, but I seem to be the only Grace left alive who likes ranch work.”

“Maybe it’s Mrs. Mallory’s version of tough love.” Frances had edged her chair a few inches closer to Cord while they shared the dunking doughnut. “Spend a few months on the ranch and learn what it means to work for your living.”

“Something like that.” Cord frowned. “Of course, Gene hung around the ranch when I was growing up. He helped out for a couple of summers, but he didn’t like it any more than Uncle Ron or Aunt Magda did. He never wanted to come back after he went to college. But that degree hasn’t done him much good. He seems content to live off family money.” He laughed, more like a cough. “That little dog of his might make a decent sheepherder, but Gene doesn’t fit in.”

Family money
.
The reason for Gene’s upset departure clicked. “So every time Magda takes on one of these projects—”

“He sees his inheritance dwindling,” Cord agreed gloomily.

“At least he doesn’t blame me or the theater,” Audie said. “Maybe all that angst is what makes him so good at playing Dr. Gilchrist in the play.”

Cord grunted. “Maybe you can make an actor out of him.” He grinned. “Hey, if you can turn me into Jonathan Brewster—” At the mention of the sinister Brewster cousin, Cord twisted his face and looked as ugly as Raymond Massey in the movie—“Maybe you can make something out of Gene. I sure haven’t succeeded at the ranch. Aunt Magda thinks he’ll turn around fine once he finds his purpose in life, but if he hasn’t figured that out at his age….”

I thought about Jenna, who was close in age to the Mallory heir. Two restless souls.

“With God, all things are possible.” Audie crunched on his bagel. “He led me here, and it was hardly what I expected when I finished college.”

“Well maybe God will lead Gene to take your place in Chicago,” Cord smirked.

Before I could protest, Cord lifted his hands in a gesture of self-defense.

“Just kidding. You’re right, Audie. I should pray for him instead of complaining. I do. It’s only that I hate having to do his work and paying him for it on top of that.” Cord found a last bite of doughnut on his napkin and offered it to Frances.

She shook her head. “I need to be on my way. I’m supposed to report to work before long.”

Jessie approached with a coffee carafe. Today she wore a uniform in robin’s egg blue with embroidered robins on her apron. I thought about the message Spencer was holding and remembered the e-mail Jessie had received.

“Hey, Jessie, have you heard anything more from that Elsie Holland person?”

She blinked her brown eyes, twice. “Why, no. I figure it was just a practical joke.”

“Elsie Holland?” Cord spoke up. “Has she been writing to you, too?”

“I take it you’ve received one of her threats, then?” Audie sipped the fresh coffee. “Welcome to the club.”

“She’s also written to Dina and Peppi that we know of,” I explained. I didn’t mention the e-mail sent to Spencer.

Cord whistled through his teeth. “And me. And Frances. I take it they’re all about the same? Some foolish rumor and threatening to contact us about it?”

We nodded our heads in agreement.

Cord’s color heightened, but I didn’t ask him for details. “Do you know who she is?”

We explained our theory about Elsie Holland being an alias.

“Whoever ‘Elsie’ may be, he or she is playing with fire.” Audie frowned. “Sooner or later, she’ll hit too close to the truth, and someone may decide to retaliate.”

“She wouldn’t have to dig too far for dirt on my cousin. Speaking of which, there he is, the old lazy bones.”

We all looked out the window at the subject of our discussion. Tall, with brown hair streaked with blond thanks to the hours spent in the sun at the ranch, Gene could be considered handsome except for the scowl that marred his face. Bobo trotted along behind him. My heart softened. No man who inspired a dog’s undying affection could be all bad.

“Well, I’d best be going before he decides to disappear again,” Cord said.

My thoughts turned to my own family situation. At least no one had ever asked me to try to rein in my irresponsible older sister. I filled that role with Dina.

“Will I see you at rehearsal tonight?” Audie gathered the empty cups for the trash.

“If you promise to eat supper with me after. I’ve made up a batch of Frito chili pie.”

“Then plan on it.” Audie whistled while he walked me back to the store.

Once again, I wondered what difference the new arts complex would make. Would this mean a new opportunity for him, as director of the whole shebang? I hoped so. I waited for him to tell me that Magda’s announcement was his secret. But he left me at my front door and continued on his way without saying a word about it.

Tonight
,
I told myself. He’ll tell me tonight
.

The day sped by as I made arrangements for repairs to the store. After some debate, I decided to do some minor remodeling and advertise for a “Grand Reopening” in the Sunday edition of the
Grace Gulch Herald
. This afternoon the glazier would replace my front window. After I called the carpenter to come tomorrow, I spent time researching the computer for decorating ideas. Along with the new floor, I wanted new paint, curtains, rugs—the works. Too bad Jenna isn’t here. My sister had an excellent eye for design; I guessed it went with her ability as an art dealer.