A Hard Bargain (8 page)

“Afternoon, Madeline. Got a minute?”

“Sure,” I said. “Have a seat.”

Nell’s dad is big and square like his daughter. His hair is a fuzz of blond on his large head. His small eyes, as shrewd and blue as Nell’s, miss nothing.

“Need to talk to you about Rick Rialto.”

I made a face. “I’ll bet you do.”

“I understand he’s a friend of Jerry’s.”

“What’s he done?”

“Just a few complaints.” He took out a small pad and flipped through the pages. His brow wrinkled as he read. “Something about a cat not feeling wanted. A dog let loose because it said it needed some space.” He glanced up. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

“Rick says he’s a pet psychic.”

“Reading animals’ minds, is he?”

“Pretending to.”

The chief nodded. “That’s a new one.” He put the pad away. “What’s he doing in Celosia? Seems there’d be more folks interested in this kind of thing in Parkland.”

“He said something to Jerry about getting involved with the film company.”

“What do you know about him?”

“I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him.”

“All right. We’ll both keep an eye on Mister Rialto.”

“He also wants to exploit Mantis Man.”

Chief Brenner shook his head. “That old thing. Every summer, I get at least one teenager who swears he’s seen the Mantis. That’s usually after too many beers at Kate’s Beer and Bait Shop on Highway Forty-Five.”

“How did that story get started?”

“Must have been about thirty years ago. Somebody saw something up in the woods by the covered bridge. Said it looked like a big insect with claws. Folks started calling it the Mantis Man. Now everybody’s seen it, or they think they have. How’s Mister Rialto planning to do anything with that?”

“He wants to sell Mantis Man tee shirts and coffee mugs.”

“Well, that’s no sillier than telling people what their cats are thinking.” He scratched his head. “Hear you’re on the lookout for Kirby Willet.”

“I hope that doesn’t interfere with any police business.”

“Can’t say that it does.”

“No deep dark scandal to uncover?”

“Nope. Interesting thing about Voltage Films, though. Josh Gaskins used to live here when he was a teenager. I believe he and Kirby Willet knew each other, at least for a while.”

I remembered Patricia Hargrave wondering aloud if Josh Gaskins was related to the Middleton Gaskins. “Gaskins lived in Celosia? Wonder why he didn’t mention it.”

Chief Brenner shrugged. “Too good for the town now, maybe. But why else would he choose Celosia? There’s plenty of little towns closer to Los Angeles. Why come all the way to North Carolina?”

“To show his old pals how important he is now?”

“I’ve learned that spite can travel a long way.”

“If he spent some time in Celosia, then he knew about the Eberlin house.”

“Hard to overlook it.”

If Gaskins has some sort of hidden agenda, what could it be? I thought. Even if he wants to spite his childhood buddy, Willet isn’t here to spite.

“Thanks,” I said. “This might be useful.”

Chief Brenner touched his cap in a little salute. “Afternoon, Ms. Maclin.”

Now I was even more curious to find what Kirby Willet had squirreled away at Frannie’s house.

Frannie Thomas lived in a modest little brick home on May Avenue. I could see how she needed every inch of space. She met me at the door and led me down a short hallway to the back bedroom. Boxes were stacked everywhere.

“Which ones are Willet’s?” I asked.

“All of them.”

“Okay, let’s start with this one.”

Frannie stood by wringing her hands as I looked through Kirby Willet’s stuff. Most of the boxes held clothes and shoes. One had soap, powder, and shampoo. Another had paperback books and hunting magazines. I checked the magazines to see if any had an address label, but Willet must have bought them from a store. Another box was filled with model airplane kits and jigsaw puzzles.

“Nothing that personal,” I said. I tried to assure her she wasn’t breaking some privacy law, but she continued to clasp her hands nervously.

The next few boxes had socks and underwear, car manuals, pieces of wire, a flashlight, a hammer, and some light bulbs.

“See? No problem.”

I opened the next box. It was full of money. A lot of money and a big jar of peanuts.

“Oh, my,” Frannie said.

Oh, my, indeed.

Chapter Three

Chief Brenner looked at the box of money and shook his head. “Now I never would’ve guessed Kirby would have this much money.”

After doing a rough count and finding over ten thousand dollars in the box, I’d called the police right away. Frannie stood in the doorway, still wringing her hands. “What do you think?” I asked Brenner. “Is it stolen money? Drug money?”

“I’ll have to check,” he said. He picked up the box and carried it out to his squad car. Frannie trailed anxiously behind.

“Chief Brenner, I had no idea, no idea, at all! I thought he just had clothes and shoes and things like that.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Thomas,” he said. “No one’s accusing you of anything. We’re just going to put this in a safe place until Mister Willet comes to claim it.”

“What about all his other stuff?” I asked.

He put the box in his trunk and closed the lid. “Tell you what. I’ll send an officer by with a truck. We’ll take it all down to the police station and Willet can settle with us later. How’s that?”

Frannie sighed in relief. “That would be wonderful. I don’t want any more surprises like this.”

“Could’ve been a lot worse,” Brenner said to me when Frannie had gone into her house.

“Drugs, you mean?” I knew even small peaceful Celosia had drug problems.

He nodded. “Yep. We should be glad it’s just good old cash.”

“This makes me even more interested in finding Kirby.”

“Maybe one of his inventions finally paid off.”

Or maybe someone had murdered him for this money and was now looking for it. No need to mention this to Frannie.

Before driving to the theater to pick up Jerry, I stopped in at Georgia’s Books and wandered around, alert for shoplifters. Everything seemed to be in order.

Georgia was checking a long list of magazines. “Madeline, I hate to waste your time. I’m not really sure we have a problem.”

“I don’t mind,” I said.

“Well, you know how Hayden is. I thought if we took some sort of action, it would calm him down. I haven’t found anything missing, and I know for a fact the store isn’t haunted. It’s old, but it isn’t haunted.”

“It’s in very good shape.”

“Yes, indeed.” She tucked her pencil behind her ear. “You remember that rainstorm last week? That’s the first time the roof has ever leaked, and fortunately, the water didn’t do much damage. Hayden wanted to fix it himself, but I didn’t let him. I had someone else do the repairs.”

“You mean, Hayden isn’t afraid of heights?”

“Not a bit. Strange, isn’t it? He’s terrified of things he can’t see, but he’ll climb way up on a ladder to change a light bulb or brush away a spider web, which, by the way, I will not do! I suppose we all have our own phobias. Now, don’t feel you have to hang around here all day, Madeline. I know you have things to do.”

As I drove to the theater to pick up Jerry, I thought about what Georgia had said. I knew why Jerry had a phobia about returning to the family home. Would my reluctance to return to my artwork be considered a phobia? What exactly was I afraid of? My mother was no longer standing behind me, ready to give me a push or a last-minute instruction.

Keep your hand at your waist. Don’t touch your hair. Remember to come in on the second chorus. If you don’t sing out loud like I told you, you’ll never win anything. Wave gracefully! And for God’s sake, keep smiling!

I was so used to her harsh commands, her silent smirk at the failure of my one art exhibit had cut me to the core.

That was years ago, I told myself. Isn’t it time you got over that? She’s not standing behind you talking or smirking now, is she?

Evan James greeted me in the foyer by grasping both my hands in his. “Madeline, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Thank me?”

“For introducing me to your friends, Cathy and Mitch. They’re so enthusiastic and full of great ideas, I actually want to do another pageant.”

Evan had been so upset by Juliet’s murder, he’d sworn off pageants. Now he looked so pleased and excited, I didn’t have the heart to discourage him.

“That’s great, Evan, but I really can’t help very much. I have several cases I’m working on.”

He nodded. “Yes, of course. Frannie wants you to find Kirby Willet. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your work.”

Celosia gives new meaning to the term, “Heard it through the grapevine.” Thank goodness news about the box of money hadn’t quite made it to the vine yet.

“That shouldn’t take all your time, though,” Evan said. “You can stop by every now and then to give us some pointers.”

“Aren’t you busy with ‘Music Man’?”

“Kenna’s in charge of that, which leaves me free to do the pageant. It’s just what I needed, Madeline. I don’t mind telling you I’ve been a little depressed. Working on a new show has been a godsend.”

What could I say to that? “Oh, well, good, then.”

Evan went upstairs to his office. I pushed open the double doors leading to the auditorium and went inside. The actors were attempting the “Marian the Librarian” song and dance. Donna Sanchez, one of the former Miss Celosia Pageant contestants, played Marian. She sat in the front row while the dancers worked on a tricky part of their choreography. She moved her pocketbook so I could sit down in the seat next to hers.

“Hello, Madeline.”

“Hi, Donna. How’s it going?”

She was still smarting from the pageant’s cancellation. “Well, it’s not as good as Miss Celosia was going to be, but I guess it’s all right.”

“I’m sorry Juliet got herself murdered. That was so inconvenient for you.”

Donna missed the irony. “That’s all right. There’s a new pageant coming up.”

“I hope it doesn’t interfere with your debut as Marian.”

“I’ve worked everything out with Kenna and Evan.” She flipped back her hair. “I know I’ll win. There’s absolutely no competition.”

“No one else has entered?”

More totally good irony wasted. “Well, Karen Mitman’s mother made her, as usual. Then there’s Jeanie Swain, Destiny Ray, and a few others. None of them have a chance. They’ve never been in a pageant before.”

“There’s always beginner’s luck.”

She gave me a pitying look. “I don’t think so.”

Kenna called for Donna to come try her part of the dance. When Donna went up on stage, Kenna came out into the auditorium to watch the dance. She had on a short leopard print skirt and a black leotard. Large gold hoops hung from her ears. Her platinum blonde hair was decorated with pink-tipped spikes.

“Nice to see you, Madeline,” she said as the dancers twirled and skipped through the library set. “I want Jerry in my next production. See if you can talk him into it.”

At first, I heard only the “I want Jerry” of this sentence. Then I realized what she’d said. “I doubt he’ll need much persuading.”

“I think he’d be a natural on stage. We’re planning to do ‘How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying’ next season. I think he’d make a perfect J. Pierpont Finch.”

I’d seen the movie. “The scheming guy who works his way up through the company by sneaky tricks?”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, he could probably handle that. His singing voice is fair to medium, though.”

“We can work on that. I’d rather teach an actor to sing than try to get a singer to act.” She gave me a critical gaze. “What about you? I know you’ve had stage experience.”

“Enough for a lifetime.”

“You’d make a good Rosemary. Can you sing?”

“Not a bit.”

Kenna wasn’t discouraged. “Like I said, we can work on that.” The dance ended. She raised her voice. “All right, everyone. We’ll take a short break and run Act One.” She turned back to me. “And I understand you’re a painter?”

Jerry Fairweather, you are a dead man. “I used to paint a little.”

“Portraits?”

“Some.”

“Let me tell you what I have in mind. I’d love to have a portrait of children in various costumes for the lobby. Do you think you could do something like that?”

“I haven’t painted a portrait in a while.”

Jerry strolled over in time to add to the conversation. “She plays the violin, too.”

I couldn’t believe he was bringing this up. “Jerry.”

“Excuse me. I meant to say fiddle.”

Kenna looked impressed. “You should be in our orchestra.”

“I just know one song,” I said. For my pageant talent, I had learned “Orange Blossom Special,” a guaranteed crowd-pleaser, no matter how sloppily it’s played. Since most of the other contestants belted out Broadway tunes or hopped about in character ballets, my not so perfect version of the fiddle tune was often enough to win the talent competition.

“Well, please think about the portrait,” she said.

Two of the dancers came up to ask her about part of the dance, so she excused herself to demonstrate the move for the girls.

Jerry correctly interpreted the expression I leveled his way. “I think there’s trouble in River City.”

“You’d better believe it, bud. Why did you tell Kenna I was an artist?”

“That may have slipped out.”

“And then to bring up the violin?”

“Now what’s the harm in that?”

“I am definitely never sawing through ‘Orange Blossom Special’ again, and you know it. I pawned that fiddle years ago.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “But look me in the eye and tell me you’re giving up on your art.”

As much as I enjoy looking him in the eye, I couldn’t do it.

He slumped comfortably in the seat beside me and stretched his legs. I noticed the flamingo tie glowed faintly pink in the dim light of the auditorium. “Start out small, Mac. There are probably lots of people in town who’d like to have their portrait painted.”

I didn’t want to tell Jerry I wasn’t sure I could still paint portraits. “I don’t have the time.”

“In-between cases.”

“I don’t have any supplies.”

He sat up straight. “Mac. Quit making excuses. You can start with me if you’d like to get back in practice.”

I honestly felt my heart squeeze. I’d wanted to paint him forever, to see if I could capture his impish smile and the light in his clear gray eyes.

“You can’t sit still that long.”

“More excuses. I happen to know you can work from photographs.”

“Damn.”

He grinned. “You cannot escape your fate. What sort of brushes and stuff do you need?”

“I can buy my own.”

“And you can use the parlor.”

Ever since Jerry had mentioned turning the upstairs parlor into a studio, my imagination had been decorating the room. I’d have my easel by the window, my extra canvases stacked in that corner and rows of oils and acrylics arranged by color—

But another part of me cringed at the idea, the foolishly idealistic part that had been crushed by criticism and seared by my mother’s silent smirk that broadcast, “I told you so” louder than anything she’d ever spoken.

Jerry said, “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“I’ll think about it.” I’ll think about it. I’d been able to do nothing but think about it ever since he’d suggested using the parlor.

I could tell Jerry didn’t quite understand my reluctance. “It’s not like you have to put on a show,” he said.

“That’s never going to happen again.”

“So paint some portraits. Earn a little extra dough for Madeline Maclin Investigations.”

This time I did look him in the eye. “On one condition.”

“This is going to cost me, isn’t it?”

“You look for a real job.”

He slumped back again. “Oh, man.”

“Not feeling walls, or listening to spirits, or wandering around with a dowsing rod. A real job.”

He groaned. “You’re killing me. Okay. I’ll look.”

“You will look and you will find.”

“In other words, something dull and predictable.”

On stage, Kenna called for places. “Jerry, we’re going to try the dance again.”

He hopped up and went back to the piano. This time, the dancers were all on the right beat, and Kenna was pleased with the results.

“Much better. Do it once more, and we’ll call it a night.”

Other cast members came out into the auditorium to watch. I recognized two of the older women, Agnes Forsythe and Billie Lee Danbury, the same two ladies who “didn’t know beans,” as Austin had so charmingly described them. Somewhere there’s an assembly line stamping out “Small Square Grannies.” Both women are short and squat with gray hair and glasses. They’re often in Georgia’s, flirting with Hayden. They looked through a box of large feathered hats the costume crew had left by the stage steps.

“This pink one will go with your costume,” Agnes told Billie Lee. “I think I’ll use the yellow one.”

Billie Lee tried on the pink hat. “What do you think?”

“That’s fine. What about this one on me?”

“I don’t know. It’s awfully big.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

Agnes looked around, saw me, and came over, trailing ribbons and artificial flowers. “Madeline, you know about these things. Doesn’t this hat suit me? I’m playing the mayor’s wife. I really should have the biggest hat.”

“I don’t know about hats of the nineteen hundreds, Agnes.”

“But surely your pageant experience includes costumes of all kinds.”

“I never wore a period costume, just fancy dresses. Ask Kenna.”

She took off the hat and turned it around in her hands as if measuring the hat’s circumference. “My hat really needs to be the biggest.”

“I’m sure it will be,” I said.

“Do you know the show? The mayor’s wife is actually a very large part.”

I honestly couldn’t remember the mayor’s wife. “I’ve seen the movie.”

“It’s not the same. The stage production has much more depth.” She glanced up to the dancers. “That’s coming along very well, isn’t it? This is going to be a great show.”

“Jerry’s enjoyed it so far.”

“Oh,” she said. “A word in your ear, Madeline.” She sat down beside me and lowered her voice. “All the young ladies have been flirting with him. I thought you might like to know.”

And all the old ladies, too, I’ll bet. “Thanks,” I said, “but that’s okay. He probably flirts right back.”

Agnes blinked a few times. “Your relationship must be very secure.”

“We’re good friends, that’s all.”