Larceny and Lace (22 page)

“"I’'m in a mess,”" I said. “"Can you stand the smell of paint?”" I opened another window.

“"Sure. No problem.”" He whistled when he saw the cabinet. “"Is there anything you can’'t do?”"

“"Yes. I can’'t keep my opinions to myself.”"

He smiled with his eyes. “"I noticed.”"

“"Do you mind if I paint while we talk?”"

“"Go ahead. I know you’'re in a time crunch.”" He looked around. “"What are these?”" he asked, hefting a bright red marble egg in one hand, a yellow one in the other.

“"Aren’'t they gorgeous? They were my grandmother’'s. I forgot they existed until I found that box of them in my mother’'s art deco sideboard. I just cleaned it, because we’'re taking it to my shop when this is done.”"

He tossed an egg in the air. “"What are you painting on the bottom, there?”"

“"This is a picture my mother cut from a magazine.”" I indicated the framed flower garden shoe propped against a chair. “"I’'m putting one facing shoe on each door.”" They were squash-heeled pumps of loosely woven tulip leaves. I’'d let the occasional vibrant pink to pale yellow tulip nod from their woven stems.

“"The picture is of a daffodil shoe.”"

“"I’'m making it my own.”" On mine, the flowers grew in different directions from each other, which I thought added to the overall character of the piece. I stood back to examine my work. “"As a vintage fashion-plate piece, it fits the bill, and it’'ll accent the colors in my tapestried couch. What did you want to talk about?”"

“"I have a source that says Sampson probably died because he got in the way of the arsonist.”"

I didn’'t dare tell him that I knew, because I didn’'t want to screw Nick. Well, I did, actually, but—--“"You want to bounce some ideas off me?”" His hands in his pockets, Werner rocked on his heels and jiggled his loose change.

“"Let’'s call it speculation, part deux.”" He stopped, reached into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled out a bottle of Mexican beer.

I chuckled as I accepted it and popped the top.

“"Why would Suzanne
pretend
to be Sampson’'s sister when she was his ex? A blood relative is a more likely suspect.”"

“"You said you believe she didn’'t bother to deny the gossip. Maybe because, as his ex, she could get the house, so she was playing it cool so people wouldn’'t delve too deeply into her background . . . or into the background of somebody she cares about?”"

“"Lolique?”" he asked.

“"According to Lolique herself, she was a pole dancer, which could merely be a part of the colorful persona she gave herself. Frankly, I can’'t see a politician marrying a pole dancer, myself, especially McDowell. He’'s too careful of his image. Then again, I think he killed his first wife, so what do I know?”" I sighed.

“"And another thing. If Vinney took the bones out of your building, who put them there? Couldn’'t have been him. He’'s too young.”"

A man afraid of a ghost, I thought. “"A hired killer? Or even someone hired simply to move her from her cave, quarry, or well. It didn’'t have to be her killer.”"

“"True. We’'ve started a search for caves, quarries, and wells, but it’'s not all up to us. McDowell lived in Groton when his wife went missing. Besides, we have to get an ID on the bones before we jump to conclusions anyway.”"

“"Sampson was a victim of circumstance, wasn’'t he?”" I asked. “"He died because of the bones. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”"

“"Seems like.”" He indicated my cabinet. “"Are you going to put that in your shop?

It’'s a brilliant piece of artwork.”"

“"Thank you. The door opens on the aisle formed at the left by my checkout counter and at the right by my stock nooks. I’'m planning a sitting area for the back, between the end of my checkout counter and the behind-the-stairs entry to my fitting rooms where the horse stalls were. People will cut though the area to get to the fitting rooms and friends can relax while they wait for someone being fitted.”"

“"Sounds like a place where women would like to disappear for an afternoon.”"

“"That’'s what I’'m hoping. I’'m thinking about serving fine teas, too. Or,”" I added,

“"if my shop turns out to be a yawn, I can take a nap on the couch.”" Werner shook his head. “"Not a chance. You think the pole-dancer celebrity will shop at your place?”"

“"I hope not. She scares me.”"

“"I always knew you were a smart girl. Blunt, but smart.”" He turned to go. “"Keep working. I’'ll see myself out.”"

Early the following evening, my crew—--my dad, Tunney, Oscar from the hardware store, my brother-in-law, Justin, and his father, Cort—--brought my sewing supplies and several of my old sewing machines—--along with my new one—--from my house and from above Aunt Fiona’'s garage, to set up my second-floor work area. In the far corner, Dad put up about twenty feet of dry-wall, upon which he attached what I call my “"bobbin walls”" and the hardware to hang rows of any size spool or bobbin. With only five days to opening day, my nerves were shot, but the small accomplishment calmed me.

In the way Thomas Edison kept every chemical known to man in his workshop, I’'d dreamed of having threads, ribbons, trims, laces, and fringes of every kind. In New York, I’'d bought galloon lace, Venetian lace, ruffled lace, novelty and eyelet lace, diamond braid, beaded trims, looped fringe, metallic trims, sequined trims, and more, in every exotic color imaginable. Maybe I’'d gone overboard, but I couldn’'t wait to get them up.

After the men set up my corner, they carried the fainting couch, tables, lamps, and bric-a-brac downstairs in time for members of the White Star Circle of Spirit to decorate for the ball upstairs.

We left them rearranging caskets, spreading sparkly black draping, stars, and moons from their bags of tricks. Being witches, they had a prickly effect on my father, but he took the men to our house for my mother’'s furniture and my decorated cabinet. When they got back, the men polished off Aunt Fiona’'s red velvet cake, then arranged my sitting room. Often.

“"I don’'t like the fainting couch there,”" Dante said. “"Move it to the other wall.”" Aunt Fiona and I glanced at each other. “"The couch,”" I said. “"Try it coming out of the right-hand corner.”"

Good thing Justin and Cort, who’'d already moved it twice, didn’'t know a ghost was directing them. Cort shook his head. “"You’'re just like your sister,”" he said, speaking of my sister Sherry, his daughter-in-law.

“"Thank you for the compliment. Now, where should I put the cabinet?”"

“"Against the enclosed stairs,”" Dante said. “"Facing the fainting couch in the opposite corner. I love what you did with that cabinet.”" My ghost bowed with his compliment. “"Dolly will be impressed with your renovations and decorating.”" I wished I could thank him. The jadeite lamps looked amazing on my mother’'s tables. I brought an old urn from upstairs to set on my mother’'s sideboard. Dante chuckled. “"That’'s—--”"

“"Gorgeous!”" I said. I did not want to know if it was meant for ashes.

“"The whole sitting area is gorgeous,”" Aunt Fiona agreed. “"But it’'s missing one special element, which I have in the car.”"

When she returned, she unrolled the folk art wall hanging that had hung on the wall above her fireplace for as long as I could remember. “"Call it a shop-warming gift,”" she said.

A spiral of stars in bronze, silver, and gold, surrounded by a mating sun and quarter moon centered the multilayered, tapestry-like hanging.

“"I remember when your mother made that,”" my father said. “"Fiona, Kathleen would be so pleased.”"

I hugged it as if I were hugging my mother. “"Aunt Fiona, it’'s the best gift ever and I can gaze at it every day. It’'ll be like Mom is looking out for me.”"

“"I always knew the time would come for you to have it. It’'s time.”" We hugged. Cort looked around. “"You’'ve made an enticing shop of this place, Madeira. Women will love it.”"

“"Little girls, too,”" I said. “"I can see your little Vanessa dragging you here for a new purse every other week.”"

“"Is she a trip or what?”" Cort asked, his pride in his granddaughter abundantly visible.

“"I have to agree with him, Suzie Q,”" Tunney said. “"Who knew you could make a class act out of a shack?”"

“"It’'s not half ready for my opening, but it’'s beginning to look like a vintage dress shop to be proud of, isn’'t it?”" Personally, I thought it looked splendid. If only I had known how soon it would be ruined.

That night my new alarm system got put to the test.

At about four the next morning, the alarm company called, and we were off. Werner was waiting for us in the parking lot when Dad, Fiona, and I got there. “"The alarm scared your intruder away, Mad, but not before he or she did some damage. I can’'t tell you how sorry I am.”"

Four days to my opening, and I stood in the doorway of my beautiful shop, dumbstruck.

My enamel cabinet, the one I’'d worked so hard painting, had been toppled and it lay facedown on the floor with a small ax embedded in its top.

“"If not for the alarm,”" Werner said, “"the ax might have been used for some serious chopping.”"

“"You know how hard I worked on that.”"

“"I do. But our crime scene team thinks your alarm worked great. Looks like the ax was tossed from the front door and the perp ran.”"

“"Pure spite,”" I said.

“"Who hates you this much?”" Werner asked.

“"Who stole Eve’'s car, then put her heel through the roof? Who wants her husband to be blamed for the playhouse fire? Who is royally ticked because Eve and I spied on her and her nefarious relatives?”"

Werner was taking notes again. “"Do you think McDowell’'s wife is capable of this?”"

“"This is chump change, Detective. I think she’'s out for blood. Lots of it.”"

“"Yours?”"

“"I may not top her list, but I’'m up there.”"

“"Why would you be?”" my father asked, his brows deeply furrowed.

“"I made a calculated error where she was concerned. I underestimated her. I didn’'t adore her. I didn’'t become her dupe. I started by challenging her and ended up mocking her . . . though I did think she was in a drunken stupor at the time. Turns out, she was faking.”"

“"In other words,”" Werner said, “"Lolique hates your guts and she’'d stop at nothing—--”"

“"That about sums it up.”"

Thirty-eight
It’'s always the badly dressed people who are the most interesting.

-JEAN PAUL GAULTIER

Scarecrows, scarecrows everywhere.

On contest day, three days before my grand opening, I dressed like a clichée: baggy black jeans with a few bright, temporary patches. A white, pirate-type blouse, and a long voluminous, silk scarf in bright Pucci colors. With them, I wore my Jack de La Rose patchwork spikes and, close to my shoulder, the matching bag.

Once people started arriving, I got so busy I had to lock the bag beneath my checkout counter, wrap the scarf around my neck twice, and let the ends riff in the autumn breeze. For several hours, I couldn’'t keep track of anyone, while my parking lot bustled with people, not cars, and scarecrows kept multiplying.

“"You look like you’'re freezing,”" Eve said, as she handed me a hot caramel latte.

“"A little bit.”" I shivered and warmed my hands on the cup. “"Your hair is black,”" I said, “"but so is your lipstick. You rarely wear lipstick. And what’'s with the eye makeup? I like.”"

“"You’'re dressed as a scarecrow,”" Eve said. “"I’'m dressed as a Goth. Costume seemed appropriate.”"

“"You didn’'t have far to go.”"

She gave me a hand-on-her-hip pose. “"
Neither
did you.”" I chuckled and shivered.

Eve wrapped the scarf around my neck one more time. “"Would it
kill
the outfit for you to get warm?”"

“"I’'m going in to see if I can find a jacket.”"

“"You will,”" she called after me. “"You have hundreds.”"

“"A
coordinating
jacket,”" I admitted.

Eve’'s laughter followed me inside.

“"How are you doing, Aunt Fiona?”" I asked as I searched the racks and she put more of my vintage collection on hangers.

“"Trying to do my bit while guarding the place,”" she said. “"The cabinet looks as good as new. You can’'t even see the ax slash in the top.”"

“"Dante protected it,”" I whispered. “"He said when the blow from the ax knocked it over, he used his energy to lower it slowly to the floor. That’'s why not even the glass in the doors or shelves cracked.”"

“"Did he see who threw the ax?”"

“"Yes, somebody wearing a baggy black leather jumpsuit with a skeleton painted on it, mask, toque, and all, except that he saw red curls sticking out the bottom of the hat as she turned and ran.”"

“"She?”"

“"Since it’'s a skeleton, I thought for sure it was Vinney, until Dante mentioned the red curls. It was Lolique.”"

“"Did you tell Werner?”"

“"Sure. I told him my ghost saw her.”"

“"Oh, right.”"

“"Be careful around her,”" Aunt Fiona said. “"I’'m glad Dante saved your cabinet.”" I put on a red suede peplum jacket, pulled my blouse ruffles out at the sleeves, and checked the look in my three-way mirror. All I need, I thought, is an eye patch.

“"Not bad,”" Aunt Fiona said. “"Say ‘'argh.’' ”" I grabbed a pair of red leather gloves. “"I do look rather piratical, don’'t I? Though I don’'t think, strictly speaking, that pirates wore red or colorful patches.”"

“"You look adorable, as always,”" she said, smoothing the back of my jacket. Sherry came in and kissed my cheek. “"Sorry we’'re late.”"

“"Only a little. Everyone waited till the last minute to set up, though they should be done by now.”" I checked my watch. “"The judges should be arriving shortly. Dad put two tables outside. All you and Justin have to do is keep them stocked with punch and treats.”" Sherry made a face. “"I haven’'t opened the boxes, yet, and the smell of the treats is getting to me.”"

“"Why? Are you sick?”"

Justin kissed my sister’'s cheek. “"Only in the mornings.”" He grinned. I screamed with delight as Lolique and McDowell walked in trailing a cameraman from the local cable channel, who started filming the hug fest.

I waved my hand in front of the cameras. “"No, no, no. You’'re filming the flower before it blooms. Come back for my grand opening, all of you, on Halloween.”" McDowell leaned close, which the cameras caught. “"Guess I’'m not the only publicity hound in the area,”" he whispered, while it looked like he kissed my cheek. I had to fake a smile to keep from shuddering.