Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder (9 page)

“Of course! I didn’t recognize it at first.” Audie smacked his forehead with his palm. “In the NIV, I think it reads ‘rare and beautiful treasures.’ That’s from Proverbs—”

“Chapter 24, verses three and four.” Dad finished.

13

Ron Grace, Roland and Gwennie’s youngest son, also left the ranch. After he managed the family’s oil interests for a number of years, he became involved in city government. He first ran for city councilman at the age of twenty-five and later was elected mayor in a special election in 1998. He has remained in that position ever since. Ron married Barbara Burrows late in life; they have no children. “Mayor Ron,” as he is affectionately known, is most famous for his collection of Grace artifacts. He displays them beneath the “Grace-filled Map” in the mayor’s office which pinpoints communities across the globe with the word “Grace” in their name. Because of his efforts, Grace Gulch has sister cities in every continent of the world.

From
A History of Grace Gulch

Sunday, September 17

“The Brad I knew wouldn’t have recognized a quote from the Bible even if he was given chapter and verse.” Jenna coughed.

“He had changed,” Audie said gently. “He came to know the Lord about a year back. He loved the book of Proverbs almost as much as I do. We discussed it all the time.”

“Nothing like Proverbs to guide a man’s steps.” Gilda’s enthusiasm told me where Audie had derived his habit. A point in her favor.

“So if Larry Grace was indeed quoting Proverbs—” I followed the idea.

“—Brad might have recognized the reference.” Audie completed the thought.

“Is anyone else ready for dessert?” Dad interrupted. “Let’s continue our discussion in the living room, over Cici’s apple crumble.”

After that, we stayed busy with other things, like consuming every bite of the crumble. No surprise there, since we often devoured the entire dessert. The fact Gilda’s bratwurst also disappeared caught me by surprise.

Jenna and Dina wouldn’t allow Gilda and me to help clean up. “Go put your feet up,” Jenna insisted. “Junior might not appreciate getting wet.”

Don’t babies
live
in fluid until they’re born
? I didn’t argue, however. We took seats in the kitchen. Dad and Audie remained in the parlor, enjoying some man-to-man time.

“I want to know how to fix that meat,” Dina said as she packaged Dad’s ham and beans into dishes for us to take home. “I tried to fix it once or twice when I was away at school, but mine never tasted so good.”

“I’m so glad you liked it.” Gilda smiled and looked almost human.

Why couldn’t I be as open to Gilda as Dina appeared to be?

“It’s even better when you can grill it instead of cooking in a fry pan.” Gilda explained the process of boiling the meat in beer and then adding the other ingredients.

“Better bring your ID,” I joked. With her new blue hair, Dina looked younger than eighteen.

“Maybe you’d better not try it for awhile.” Jenna piled dishes in the sink. Yes, Dad had a dishwasher, but for some reason, the three of us enjoyed sharing the dish chore together. “The way the Grace Gulch rumor mill goes, they’ll be saying like mother, like daughter, and question you about illegal drugs.”

“Are the police still hassling you about that?” I couldn’t believe the police didn’t have better things to do with their time.

“I think I’ll be under suspicion until they find the real culprit.” Jenna added soap to running water. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

That was Jenna, projecting an I-don’t-care attitude no matter what. Since her return to Grace Gulch, I had learned to see beneath the veneer.

“They should leave you alone.” I was the kitten, wanting to protect the older, wiser tom cat.

“Don’t worry. Georgia won’t let them bully me into anything.” She flashed a look at me that said
leave it alone.

“What’s that about drugs?” Gilda’s face soured as if we had said a swear word.

Dina grabbed the first plate and dried it. “Over the last year, there’s been an increase of drugs coming into town. A lot more kids getting into trouble, some as young as junior high.”

“Oh, my, that’s terrible. I had no idea that Grace Gulch had drug problems.” Gilda muttered.

“Audie never expected a small town to have the same problems as Chicago, either.”
Like murder
, I added silently. “But it happens everywhere these days.”

“Murder and drugs and arson. You’d be safer somewhere else.”

I doubted there was a drug-free zone short of heaven. Once again I suspected Gilda didn’t think much of Grace Gulch—or me.

“Unfortunately for me, the increase started a few months after I moved back.” Jenna frowned. “So I’m a natural suspect.”

“Did anyone else move here about the same time?” Dina mused. She polished off a cup and glanced at the kitchen clock, the same one that had hung there since we were children. “I gotta hurry. Noah is picking me up before long.”

Jenna didn’t quite succeed in hiding a frown. She wasn’t crazy about her 22-year-old daughter dating a thirty-seven-year-old man. Dina stiffened, and conversation stalled. She left the last few dishes drying in the rack to freshen her makeup.

Fifteen minutes later, the front doorbell rang. Dad ushered Noah into the kitchen. He pushed his trademark sunglasses on top of his head, and his smile stretched so far you would think OU was playing for the national football championship. He looked his most scholarly, in a sweater covering a button-down shirt—more academic than artist.

“Hi, Noah.” At least Jenna spoke to him. “Dina will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Jenna, it’s good to see you again. Cici.” He acknowledged my presence. When he approached Gilda, he lifted her right hand to his lips. “And who is this lovely lady? Your cousin?”

Okay, maybe I had misjudged the academic stereotype. He was a charmer, an artist at heart. “This is my mother-in-law, Gilda. She’s staying with Audie and me until the baby is born.”

At that moment, Dina ran into the room and into Noah’s arms. They exchanged a quick kiss. She had switched from her Sunday dress to jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with the Grace Gulch Community College logo.

Noah touched her hair. “Blue?” He tilted his head, studying the effect.

Dina struck a pose. “Do you like it?”

“I’d like anything, as long as it was you.” Noah nuzzled the crown of her head.

“When should I expect you back?” At twenty-two, Dina didn’t have a curfew—she never knew when she’d be working late—but Dad still liked to know.

“It won’t be late, Mr. Wilde. I promise.” Noah winked at Dina. “We’re headed over to the Garland Café on Route 66. I heard there was some excitement over there this afternoon.”

He had our attention.

“Did they—” Dina paused just in time. Noah didn’t know all the clues, unless she had told him.

“Suzanne Jay showed up a couple of minutes before the music teacher. They both quoted the second clue, the Bible verse that mentions a highway and thorns. Then Suzanne asked for the thorn bush special, the one with hash browns and crisp bacon and all that stuff.” He shook his head. “Those clues are something else.”

“So Suzanne is in the lead.” Good for her.

“Of course I followed their example and gave the café owner the spiel. And now I know what the third clue is without figuring out the second one.” He grinned at us. “‘She will set a garland of grace on your head and present you with a crown of splendor.’”

“Proverbs chapter 4, verse 9.” Dad nodded in recognition. “Are all the clues from the book of Proverbs?” He asked of no one in particular. “I bet you thought that one up.” He nodded at Audie.

Audie winked at me. “I may have suggested it.”

“See you later, Dad.” Dina waved at us before she dashed out the door with Noah following. Did our biblical discussion embarrass her in front of her date? If so—she had made a poor choice.

After Dina left, we shelled pecans—an annual fall tradition, although Dad indulged in good-natured grumbling about dividing the spoils now that Jenna and I had our own homes.

“That looks like fun,” Gilda said in a bright voice. “May I help?”

“Do we have enough nutcrackers?” Dad fussed.

“Dina’s not here, so we have an extra.” Jenna handed her the utensil. We settled onto the living room furniture. Gilda took the spot usually reserved for our dog. Ralphie gave her a woeful look before draping himself across her feet.

I didn’t do as neat a job as usual in shelling. Instead of pretty halves to arrange on the top of a pie or cake, I kept ending up with pieces. Gilda manage dozens of perfectly shaped nutmeats. Oh, well. They would taste the same.

“I don’t know anything about Brad’s personal life in recent years. Like the fact he was into the book of Proverbs.” Jenna reintroduced our earlier discussion. “But I do know his work. I’ve followed his career.” A pale pink suffused her face. “I’ve even handled a few of his pieces. He loves to include small clues and puzzles in his paintings, like a children’s picture puzzle. If he found something intriguing in the journal, he might have incorporated clues about it in the mural.”

“His hiding place.” My mind made an intuitive leap. “If Larry Grace did hide the money from the bank robbery and wrote about it in his journal. . .”

Jenna nodded. “Brad might have figured it out and put that in the mural. He might have decided no one could find him where the money is hidden, since no one has located the treasure in almost a century.” Her smile turned into a scowl. “Although I still have no idea
why
he is hiding
.
”

“Great! More clues.” I dug at a stubborn bit of meat in the shell.

We arranged to meet at Audie’s office to study the plans for the mural during the lunch hour Monday. Maybe Brad had included enough details to give us an idea where to start.

During the morning, Dustin Murk returned to my shop. She handed me another jar of honey. “I see people have been using the honey.”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“I see they’ve taken most of my business cards as well.” She dropped a few more by the coffeemaker.

“I saw your ad in yesterday’s paper. Of course I’ll use the ’60s theme for our hayride. Perfect! But do you have anything less
formal
?” She gestured at a sweater dress that would look funny on top of a bale of hay. “I love your outfit, by the way.”

I looked down at my blouse, a collared v-neck with two top buttons before it gave way to the unavoidable tent-shape for the baby. “Thanks. I made it from a vintage pattern.”

“You have a great many talents!”

“I can create costumes for almost any era, if you ever need something special. But for the hayride—” I took her to the rack where bell bottoms were displayed. “How about something along these lines?” While she browsed, I considered the possibilities A ’60s themed hayride. Would the parents of Grace Gulch allow their teens to buy
two
vintage outfits? At least accessories? Maybe I should restock.

Dustin picked out a lovely outfit in tie-dye blues and bell bottom jeans and a wide belt for herself. “And I’ll direct anyone who makes a reservation with us to come to your store.”

“Thanks for stopping by.” I handed Dustin one of my business cards, “Cici’s Vintage Clothing, established 2003,” embossed in Gothic script and featuring a dress with bustle. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

“You know.” Dustin slipped the handle of her shopping bag over her arm. “My husband Wilbert does beautiful ironwork. He could create some racks that would look like they came straight from a pioneer’s cabin.”

“That’s an interesting idea. I’ll come out to visit you sometime. Hopefully before the baby comes.” We said goodbye.

Dustin was a silver-blonde dynamo. With her in my corner, business would improve.

14

An impoverished widow from an early age, Maisie Mallory was the only woman to stake a claim in Grace Gulch during the 1891 land run. She took advantage of the Homestead Act of 1862 that allowed anyone who had never taken up arms against the United States to file an application—including women and freed slaves. She left her three school-age children with her parents in Abilene, Kansas, and gambled their future in Oklahoma. Dressed in bloomers that allowed her to ride astride instead of sidesaddle, Maisie outrode twenty men to become the fifth person to stake a claim in the Gulch. This indefatigable woman made the requisite improvements on the land to “prove” her claim and worked with Lizzie Gaynor to start Grace Gulch’s first school—all within a year. Her children were the first students.

              Maisie’s grandson Matthew Mallory married Magda Grace.

From
A History of Grace Gulch

Monday, September 18

Audie and Dina met me at Jenna’s office for lunch. Her work table offered the best space for spreading out Brad’s design for the mural.

“I hope you’re all hungry.” I gestured with my to-go bag of barbecued buffalo burgers from The Gulch.

“Keep those away from the paper.” Sometime that morning, Jenna had enlarged the design and laid it out.

I put down the burger and joined the others at the table. My stomach complained. In these last months of pregnancy, I felt hungry all the time. Doc Johnson said my weight gain fell within normal ranges and not to worry. I hoped my post-pregnancy figure agreed with his assessment.

I had seen Brad’s design before, of course. It was far and away the best concept submitted for the Center’s alfresco display. “Grace Gulch Gold” told the sweep of the town’s history, from Bob Grace and Dick Gaynor riding neck and neck, to oil wells and the dust bowl, to more modern images like the recently built city hall and town businesses. I smiled the first time I saw my own store on the mural. After all the work Brad had poured into it since his arrival in town, the finished product would be stunning. If he got to finish the project. If he returned, alive and well, and not under arrest for Finella’s murder.

“So my father created this.” Dina ran her fingers along the edge of the paper. “Seeing it makes me feel closer to him.”

Jenna hugged her.

Audie leaned over the section that showed city hall. “Cic, take a look at this.”

I bent over as far as Junior would allow. Brad had captured the neo-classical look of the building, a deliberate choice by our town fathers over a modern glass-and-chrome structure. The ants Brad included marching between Doric columns struck a sour note to the picture, but I didn’t see anything to excite me.

“How many pillars do you see in front?” Audie demanded.

Three pair were spaced across the porch, with an additional pillar mid-portico. “Seven.”

“That’s not right. There should only be six pillars.” Jenna’s eye captured details like that.

Dina accessed the internet on her phone and nodded her head. “Yup. There should be six pillars.” She passed around a miniscule picture for us all to see.

Six, seven, who cared? Except the Brad I knew was fanatical about getting the details right. “I’m sure it’s just a mistake. He would have caught it.”

“I may be totally off base. But as Wilde pointed out, ‘A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament.’” Audie touched the inaccurate rendering. “Brad drew it that way
on purpose.
Jenna, didn’t you say Brad often includes puzzles in his work?”

Jenna nodded.

“So—what if he included seven pillars on purpose? Do they symbolize anything?” Audie prodded us.

“Kwanzaa,” Dina offered.

“The African-American holiday around Christmas time?” Audie and Jenna looked as unsure as I felt.

“It was a big deal at school,” Dina explained. “And there are different symbols for each day of the holiday. But it doesn’t have a Grace Gulch connection.”

Jenna suggested a menorah, but that didn’t spark any ideas either.

“We’re overlooking the obvious. Seven is an important number in the Bible.”

Trust Audie to bring us back to the Bible. “It usually represents perfection or completion.”

“The Sabbath.”

“Seven years of tribulation.”

“The seven churches in Revelation.”

None of those resonated with us either.

“Wait! Do you have a Bible here?” Audie asked Jenna.

She dug one out of her desk drawer. Audie flipped through the pages. “Got it! ‘Wisdom has built her house; she has hewn out its
seven pillars.’
I told you Brad liked Proverbs.”

Seven pillars of wisdom. Seven pillars instead of six on city hall. It clicked. “But what do they mean?”

“Wait. It’s coming.” Jenna pressed her hands over her face as if to blot out every image except the one she was trying to tease out of her memory banks. She opened her eyes wide, discovery written in their hazel depths. “It’s the
key
to the puzzle. If there are seven pillars of wisdom, there are probably seven clues hidden on the mural. And they might all come from Proverbs.” She high-fived Audie. “Good catch.”

Dina didn’t share Jenna’s enthusiasm. “Am I missing something here? Okay, so maybe Brad planted clues in the mural design. But how does that get us any further in finding him? Or in figuring out who killed Finella?”

The aura of progress that had excited us only moments before vanished like  tumbleweed in a dust storm.

“She’s right,” I admitted. “Unless the mural points to a hiding spot where Brad might have gone.” I glanced at my watch. “And as much as I hate to break up the party, I’ve got to get back to work.”

Audie looked like a boy who had been told to come in from playing ball at the end of a long summer’s day in order to take a bath. “We need to study the design again to find the clues. I
know
we’re on the right track.”

“We never did learn what you did with your assignments the other day.” I turned to Dina. “Have you had a chance to talk with Noah about Brad and Finella?”

“I. . .no. I’m a little scared to.” She bit her lip. “What if I start talking about Jenna’s old pals from high school, and he puts two and two together and realizes I’m Brad’s daughter?” She paused. “And I don’t want him thinking about the difference in our ages.”

I wished he would, but both of them were adults. Any interference on my part would be the fastest way to throw her into his arms.

Audie cleared his throat. “Jenna, did you learn anything from your art contacts?”

Trust my sweetheart to defuse an awkward moment.

“Of course Brad has his share of competition. For instance, a dozen artists submitted proposals for the mural.” Jenna paused before adding, “But only Noah expressed any animosity over losing out to Brad.” Jenna spoke

“I don’t understand why you don’t like Noah.” Belligerence pitted Dina’s voice.

“I like Noah okay,” Jenna said. “But that doesn’t change the facts. He resented the mural being awarded to someone from outside of the community.”

“I suppose you think I shouldn’t be dating Noah.” Dina stuck her chin out. Her hair stood at odd angles to her head as if shocked into blue by electricity and not by dye.

“I’ll go make some coffee.” Audie made a smart move, escaping the coming confrontation.

“Oh, honey, I never said that.” Jenna reached for Dina, but she wriggled out of her embrace. “But I do think you should be careful.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do.” Tears clouded Dina’s hazel eyes, so like Jenna’s. “You may have given birth to me, but that doesn’t give you the right to boss me around.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, slamming it behind her.

Jenna dropped into a chair and hid her face in her hands.

I sat down next to her and wondered what to say. Didn’t the experts say the middle child often played the role of peacemaker? Poor Jenna. “She doesn’t really mean that, you know.”

“Oh, yes, she does.” The words came out muffled. “And I deserve it.” She blinked her eyes twice, then held them open as if squaring her mind to accept responsibility.

“Of course you don’t deserve it.” I was stumbling along, saying what was expected.

“They say adoptees often wonder why their birth mother didn’t love them enough to keep them.” Jenna fixed a smile on her face. “It’s good that she’s bringing it up. We’ve never really talked about. . .you know. . .me giving her to Mom and Dad to raise. Maybe learning about her father provoked her to confront unresolved issues.”

I considered the child growing in my womb. Could I give him up, even for the best of reasons? The parting would tear me in half. If I did, would he resent me for it? I thought about my dear friend, Suzanne Jay, who had recently learned about her birth parents. What had driven her to seek them out? Perhaps she could advise Dina.

“You were incredibly brave.” Now I wanted to cry. “It must have been incredibly hard, giving your baby up.”

“At least I got to see her grow up.” Jenna’s smile relaxed into the genuine thing.

“Dina may have questions about the adoption. But I’m sure you’ll work through it.”

“I hope so.” Jenna walked into a restroom off the workroom. She returned with a fresh application of lipstick and bright cheeks. “I only hope she doesn’t try to get back at me by making a mistake with Noah. It’s not worth it.”

“She’s twenty-two. She may be pining for some romance in her life.” I remembered wondering at that age if I would ever find love. Noah’s interest must enchant Dina. He was charming, talented—good looking, too. The age difference troubled me most.

“I suppose,” Jenna said. “But Noah’s all wrong for her. Am I the only one who sees that?”

Audie returned with two mugs of coffee. He must have decided we were ready for his company again. “What are your concerns about Noah?”

“To start with, I’m not sure he cares for Dina as much as she cares for him. She’s always waiting for him to call her back. For all we know, he dates lots of his students.”

I remembered the period when Audie and I dated. He could never call often enough. Jenna was overreacting. “She did wait until after graduation to date him. She didn’t rush into it.” I remembered the semester Dina took an art class with Noah. She talked incessantly about how brilliant he was, how charming, how witty. Anyone could tell she had a bad case of hero worship. “But I think I know what you mean. When they’re in public, she’s clings to his arm as if displaying a trophy.”

“Some men might interpret that as possessive behavior. And react poorly.” Audie gave a masculine interpretation.

“Or accept it as their due.” Jenna wrapped her arms around her waist. “But I have an even bigger concern. He may be using drugs.”