Murder on the Candlelight Tour (7 page)

"Well, at least I have taste when it comes to choosing friends!"

She narrowed her eyes. "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

"We'll discuss it later. And if you don't stop squinting like that, you're going to get wrinkles."

She gave me a startled look, then, instantly, composed her face into smooth planes.

The queue moved forward and I was next, and suddenly I was looking down at Sheldon's face. I glanced at him quickly, almost fearfully, then shut my eyes. It was true, his wounds were no longer visible. I remembered all the blood on his temple. I whispered the Twenty-third Psalm, then meditated on his good qualities. How kind he'd been to me when I was starting my career.

I opened my eyes and faced MaeMae Mackie who waited for me to offer condolences. She was dressed in black with pearls. Next to the casket, a larger-than-life portrait of Sheldon in his prime stood on an easel. I'd heard through the grapevine that an artist had worked on the painting for two days straight, going without sleep, and that the paint had not yet dried. MaeMae commissioned the portrait only hours after Sheldon's murder.

"I'm sorry for your loss, MaeMae. I'll miss him."

She clung to my hand, her frosted pink lips parted in a forced smile. "Thank you, Ashley. Sheldon lived a full life. I like to think he did it 'his way.' That thought gives me comfort."

"Well, if there's anything I can do for you, you have only to ask. I know everyone says that, but I mean it."

"I know you do, Ashley. You date that homicide detective. Tell him to lock Binkie Higgins up and throw away the key!"

Melanie and I moved into the lobby where a coffee urn was set up and helped ourselves to Styrofoam cups. "Okay, what did you mean by that crack about my friends?" she asked.

"Just how well do you know this Flynn character?" I didn't bother to conceal my hostility.

"Shhh. Keep your voice down. He worked for Joel back in Hollywood, so Joel knows him well. And if Joel vouches for him, that's good enough for me."

She smoothed an arched eyebrow with one fingertip. "The truth is, Earl is one of us, a Wilmingtonian. He grew up here. Why, he even knew Daddy. He moved to California right after high school and with his good looks broke into the movie business."

"Well, I'd sure like to get my hands on that ebony cane of his," I said, still unconvinced that it wasn't the murder weapon.

Melanie choked on her coffee. "His cane! Have you gone mad? You really are getting bad." Despite my earlier warning, she narrowed her eyes, causing wrinkles in the outer corners.

"Why does he use a cane, anyway? He can walk perfectly well. I've seen him. What is it, a Hollywood prop?" Or a murder weapon? He could have washed it off, I reasoned.

"At least he's not a murderer!"

"How do you know that? Anyway, Binkie didn't kill anybody. Even you don't believe that!"

She had the decency to look contrite. "No, I never thought he did. But I'd stay away from him, if I were you. You don't want any part of this scandal sticking to you and ruining your reputation."

"I can't desert him, Mel. I'm going to prove he's innocent."

She screwed up her face again. She just couldn't help it. Wrinkles in the making. "How? By accusing Earl of killing Sheldon?"

She glanced around, then seeing no one of interest, turned back to me. "By the way," she asked with saccharin sweetness, "who put up Binkie's bail? As if I didn't know?"

I averted my face but she could always see through me.

When I didn't respond, she went on, "Oh, don't look so innocent. Walt Brice told me all about it. It was a staggering sum, and we both know college professors are as poor as sharecroppers. His little house on Front Street isn't worth a hundred thou. So where did the money come from, Ashley Wilkes?"

I heaved a sigh. "Oh, all right, I put up the bail money. But it was only ten percent and I'll get it back. Binkie'd never skip. Where would he go? And he'd never do that to me."

Then I realized I lost Melanie again. Lisa Hamilton was passing by and Melanie, flashing a megawatt smile, made a lunge for her. "Lisa, sugah, what a joy to see you again. And wasn't lunch today divine? You are such good company. We must do it again soon." She looped her arm through Lisa's and strolled with her toward the exit. "Now have you had time to consider the houses we looked at this afternoon? That darling ranch on Bradley Creek is perfect for you."

Soon they were out of earshot. I surveyed the lobby. The crowd was breaking up, heading out for the parking lot. In the viewing room, MaeMae was shaking hands with the final guest. I hurried to the Ladies Room.

Nicely appointed, the decorator in me noted, taking in the pristine marble vanity and the fresh floral arrangement. I stepped into the roomy handicapped stall.

Just then the outer door bumped open and I heard the clatter of high heels tapping on the marble floor.

"These shoes are killing me!"

That was MaeMae Mackie's voice.

"How much longer do I have to keep up this charade?"

"Just until the estate is settled," replied Lucy Lou Upchurch, "then you can do anything you please."

"Well, how long does probate take?" MaeMae asked over the gush of running water.

"Depends, but you should have it settled in about ninety days."

"Three months! You mean to say I've got to put on this grieving widow act for the next three months?"

I heard paper towels being yanked out of a wall dispenser. I held my breath and stood very, very still.

"It'll go fast, hon," Lucy Lou said. "You can do it."

There was the clitter-clatter of high heels as they moved to the door. Just before it swung shut, I heard Lucy Lou say in a stern voice, "You have to."

I waited a few minutes, then stepped out of the stall. I was shaken. MaeMae was glad that Sheldon was dead.

10

"Rhett proposed and I accepted," Mama announced on Wednesday morning. My mind had been wandering but that brought me back with a jolt.

I finished watering the Christmas cactus that bloomed on her window sill. The residents of Magnolia Manor weren't allowed to have poinsettias because poinsettia sap is as toxic as any of Blanche Moore's concoctions. I've often wondered why the North Carolina murderess fed her husbands arsenic, which could be traced, when all she had to do was chop up some poinsettia or oleander leaves and add them to the poor gents' salads. She'd never have been caught.

"That's nice, Mama," I said. "I'm glad you have a friend." The man she referred to as Rhett was in reality Maurice Dorfsman, a retired furrier from New Jersey and a fellow patient.

"I want you and Melanie to be my bridesmaids," Mama went on. "And Rhett's grandson is going to be the best man. He's a wizard."

I arched my eyebrows, but didn't say anything. I don't like to encourage her when she gets this way. "Do you need anything before I go, Mama?"

"A wedding dress, dear. The ceremony will be held on the Sunday before Christmas, in the social hall."

"Yes, Mama," I agreed sadly. I kissed her cheeks and promised to return soon.

I stopped at the manager's office and asked if she could spare me a minute. "Why, of course, Ms. Wilkes," Ms. Miller said, turning away from her computer screen. "What can I do for you? Your mother has really settled in nicely, don't you think?"

"Yes, Mama seems happy, and I can see she's well cared for. But," and I paused, choosing my words with care, "she's talking about marrying Mr. Dorfsman. I know she imagines a lot, but have you heard them talking about marriage?"

Ms. Miller slipped off her glasses and beamed at me happily. "Your mother and Mr. Dorfsman are so cute together. Holding hands like teenagers. It does the other residents a world of good to see them so much in love. Makes them all remember when they were young and in love and they lived in happier times."

"So that's all there is to it?" I asked.

"Well, we are planning a little ceremony for them right before Christmas. We'll have a party, but it'll be a mock wedding ceremony, of course. Our Chaplain, Reverend Goode, will preside. Naturally, under the circumstances, it won't be a real wedding, but he'll write a nice little ceremony where your mother and Mr. Dorfsman promise to love one another. That's all they want, really. The other residents are looking forward to it. I hope you don't disapprove. It's not like they're going to share a room or anything. It's all perfectly innocent. And your sister gave us permission."

"Melanie? Melanie gave you permission to hold a mock wedding with my mother as the bride?" I couldn't believe my ears.

Ms. Miller seemed a bit flustered. "Why, naturally, I telephoned Ms. Wilkes and got her permission before we proceeded with the plans."

Melanie approved this plan? Were we talking about the same woman? I dropped into a chair. "Tell me, Ms. Miller, exactly what did my sister say?"

Ms. Miller cleared her throat. "Well, actually, your sister made a kind of hooting sound. Then she told me that so long as it wasn't charged to your mother's bill, we could give her a coronation ceremony and crown her Queen of England if we liked." Ms. Miller looked nonplussed. "Those were her exact words. And, Ms. Wilkes, I assure you, the expense will not be added to your mother's bill."

I stood up to shake hands with Ms. Miller, who was obviously a good person with her patients' welfare at heart. "I like the idea. Mama's happy here. And of course, it's not legal. Mama's been declared incompetent by the court. She can't sign legal papers."

"No, no, of course not," Ms. Miller hastily agreed. "There will be nothing to sign."

"Well, I'll be here for the nuptials then. Thank you, Ms. Miller. I thought I'd stop in and say hello to Mrs. Penry. You know, I bought her house and I'm living in it now. Is she feeling well enough to receive visitors?"

Ms. Miller seemed glad that the subject of the wedding had been resolved. "Mrs. Penry is about the same. She'll be glad to have a visitor. No one ever comes to see her, poor dear. Just don't stay too long. She tires easily. You know the way. She's in the other wing."

I found Mrs. Penry resting in a chair. Her bed was made up and I was glad to see that she was not bed-ridden. The room was spartan: no draperies or rugs, just window shades and a clean tile floor. Those items that harbored dust mites had been banished.

She was hooked to an oxygen tank, tubes attached to her nostrils. But all in all, she looked better than the last time I saw her.

"Aren't you a dear to visit me," she said in a whistley undertone. "You must be here to see Claire."

I touched her arm in a gentle greeting. "Yes, I've been to see Mama. I guess you've heard about the wedding."

"Your mother and Mr. Dorfsman are an inspiration to us all. If they can find love this late in life, there's hope for the rest of us."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, beginning to see that Ms. Miller was right. "I can understand how you'd feel that way. Well, I'll be here with bells on."

Mrs. Penry coughed into her hand, and I reminded myself not to stay long. "I came by to tell you how much I love living in your house. My decorating is almost finished. You may have heard that it was on the candlelight tour." I wondered if she'd heard about the murder in the library. The patients here were insulated from the outside world.

"Yes, dear, someone did mention that to me. The historical society was always begging me to put it on the tour, but my health just wouldn't permit the stress." She grabbed my wrist. "And they told me that someone was killed in the library. Is that so?"

Skipping over the gory details, I confirmed Sheldon's death. I didn't want to say too much. Talk of murder was much too distressing for someone in her poor health. I tried to think of something to distract her. "You know, it's funny, Mrs. Penry, but Professor Higgins told me there's an old rumor about gold being hidden in your house. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?"

Mrs. Penry laughed, the laugh turning into a wheeze. The seizure passed and she breathed deeply.

"Maybe I should come back another time," I suggested.

"Oh, no, please don't go. I haven't had a good laugh in a long time. Gold, indeed. When he was in high school, my son Russell heard that story too, and I can tell you he turned our house inside out and never found a thing. Even ripped up some of the floor boards. Made the biggest mess you ever saw. Then I had to have everything repaired."

"But he didn't find anything?"

"The only coins he found were some old pennies." Mrs. Penry laughed harshly. "Served him right." Her eyes widened and she started to cough. "He, he," she choked. Was she laughing?

A nurse came running. She bent over Mrs. Penry, adjusting the dial on the oxygen tank. "You'll have to leave now, Miss."

I walked slowly down the long corridor to the lobby. Was the asthma attack inevitable, or had our discussion about her son brought it on?

As I strolled out the front door and passed through the white columns, I replayed the conversation with Ms. Miller. Melanie never failed to surprise me. I reminded myself to call her later. Sheldon's funeral was taking place right about now, a private graveside service with only MaeMae and Lucy Lou. If I was going to find out who killed him, I needed to learn more about his private life, like who benefited most from his death. I had a plan. And I needed Melanie's help to carry it out.