Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch (17 page)

“I’d like to think that’s possible.” Suzanne wiped another tissue across her face. The pain lines around her mouth had eased a little. She stood up to leave. I could only pray that the words I’d shared would take root. She tucked into the restroom and emerged a few minutes later with her makeup retouched.

“Thank you for taking the time to talk with me today.” A degree of assurance had returned to her voice.

“Any time.” We hugged and said good-bye. God had presented me with an unlikely new friendship. “I’ll have your dress ready by Saturday, for sure.”

A few minutes later, I opened the store for the afternoon. My attitude had changed. I found myself praying for Suzanne, that she would understand that God loved her. I prayed for Mitch Gaynor, that his wound would not be serious. I spoke with God about everyone involved in the investigation, for both my sisters, without a trace of jealousy for once, for every customer who came into the shop. The hours sped by, fast-forwarded by prayer. The worries about the murder, and what to do about it, dropped away in my own personal praise concert.

My good mood lasted into the evening. I browned a chicken breast in butter, flavored with a mixture of paprika and cumin, and steamed fresh asparagus spears—an indulgence I allowed myself at the grocery store. I should call Cord. He must have heard about what happened at the city offices by now.

He picked up the phone on the third ring. “What’s up?”

I explained what we had seen and heard and surmised—everything except the fact that the mayor was still a solid suspect in Penn’s death. “It looks like Mitch might have aimed the gun at himself.”

“I suppose that city slicker came up with that harebrained idea.”

“Would you rather think that your cousin shot Mitch on purpose?” Cord was my friend, but sometimes he was so thick headed.

“Of course not.” Cord drew in a deep breath. “Thanks for filling in the details.” He asked me what I wanted to do on the weekend. He agreed to escort me to a couple of estate sales.

I felt so good that I even decided to enter my store accounts on my computer. While online, I checked the status of the stock market. Something about stocks niggled at my mind. Something Dina had said. What was it?
I wonder if someone is cooking the books.
Dina had said the
Sequoian
might be in financial trouble.

The paper was a publicly traded company. I remembered when Mitch first put it on the market and published daily updates as the shares rose in value. In fact, that’s what started my interest in the stock market. I tracked the price for an economics class in high school. I hadn’t checked its stock value for a long time, though.

I confirmed the paper’s symbol, SEQ, on their Web site and checked the NASDAQ listings. The price had spiked recently. I frowned. That didn’t seem possible. I browsed through the history of the stock and discovered that the price had started a steady increase about six months ago. What had triggered the upward trend?

Further investigation revealed that there had been a lot of movement in the stock, pushing the price up. Mitch Gaynor held on to a slim majority of fifty-one percent. Was any one party behind the purchase of falling stock? As in a hostile takeover?

Time sped by while I chased the elusive stock. One site led to another until the minute hand on my office clock ticked past midnight. At last I tracked down the person behind the takeover attempt.

Penn Hardy.

Mitch Gaynor had a whopper of a motive to stop his rival in his tracks.

17

I was foolish to think I could find peace apart from God. I confessed my sinful thoughts of cheating and stealing to make my dream come true. After that, sleep came easily.

I had the strangest dream. You and I founded a town on land including the very cave where I slept. It was a place where God’s grace reigned. When bad times came—I saw some awful droughts in years ahead, ground so dry that the wind carried the very dust in the air—we survived and overcame.

I awoke refreshed before dawn, moved aside the bushes, and rode Patches back to the waiting crowds at the border. This may not be our time—although I pray that it is—but I trust God to fulfill His word.

Your loving fiancé,

Robert Grace

~

Friday, September 27

I retired to bed about one in the morning but couldn’t fall asleep. Suzanne, Gwen, Ron, Mitch. Their four names repeated in my head like a murderous refrain. Each of them had motive and opportunity to kill Penn Hardy. Who wanted his death badly enough to kill him?
God, You’re going to have to show me what happened.
With that simple prayer, I nodded off and slept soundly until the alarm buzzed at half past seven.

I chose my simplest outfit for Friday—western jeans, silver buckle, hair in a no-nonsense braid down my back, and a red plaid blouse with a silver button on the breast pocket—grabbed a ready-to-go box of donuts from the grocery store and made it to the store by nine with a minute to spare.

Had only a week passed since the Race for Grace Gulch reenactment kicked off this year’s Land Run Days? The past weekend seemed as much a part of ancient history as the original feud, not a mere seven days.

One glazed donut and a cup of hazelnut coffee later, I felt ready to greet my first customers. The goods I had gathered for sales during Land Run Days were depleted; the time for a clearance sale had arrived. It would encourage people to buy less popular items. I looked through my wares and decided on rock-bottom prices. Some people tried to barter me down to a giveaway price. I refused to do that. What didn’t sell today would sell eventually. Everything old is new again; styles cycled through fashions like the earth rotated on its axis.

That kept me busy until noon. I found a few minutes to complete the repair of Suzanne’s dress and wrapped it up for her. The bell rang, and Dina and Audie entered. Dina danced, excitement popping from her pores. Or maybe it was the red dye she used to touch up her hair since I saw her last.

“I hope you’re hungry for a ham salad croissant.” Audie held up a bag from Gaynor Goodies. I had to smile. At him. At his thoughtfulness.

“Wait till you hear what we’ve been doing.” Dina took a huge bite of croissant and swallowed it, closing her eyes in appreciation. “We’ve been down at the MGM.”

Since the theater was Audie’s workplace and Dina volunteered there, I wondered why she thought that would surprise me. “And?”

“We wanted to see if we could figure out who had access to the guns in the prop box. Who could have taken the third gun, the one that’s missing?”

“A lot of people did.” How does this help the investigation?

“Don’t you want to know what we found out?” My smart-alecky sister fussed at me.

“Okay, what? Anyone from our list of suspects?”

“Suzanne”—when Dina turned eighteen, she decided she could drop the childhood formality of calling all adults Miss or Mister—“had access, of course, since she’s in the theater troupe.”

“But she’s often said she dislikes handling weapons.”

“Don’t argue.” Audie wagged a finger at me when I started to protest. “She mentioned it when she joined the theater. She said she hoped she never had to play a cop or a murderer because she doesn’t like even touching the things.”

I didn’t bother to suggest the idea of misdirection. I agreed that it didn’t seem likely. After our talk yesterday, I knew her anger at Penn only came to a boil in the last month. “Let’s stick to the facts. We’re looking for the big three, right? Means, motive, opportunity? And the ones who had the best opportunity were the Mayor, Mitch, Penn’s widow, and Suzanne.”

“If we’re being totally honest, we probably should include Cord,” Audie said.

“Audie’s right.” Dina grinned at me. “Close your mouth. Or else a fly might go in. Cord did have opportunity, although we know he didn’t do it.”

I gritted my teeth. “All right. We’ll add Cord to the list.”

“Suzanne has all three.” Audie spoke the words calmly enough. “Besides opportunity, we know she had a motive. She was having an affair with Penn, but he wanted to break it off. And Dina already knows about that, so I’m not spreading gossip. Number two, the means. She had access to the gun. . .if she knows how to work the thing.”

“So Suzanne stays on the list.” Dina whipped out a steno book and pencil; she looked like a regular cub reporter. “How about the mayor? The guns belonged to him. He might have another Colt in his collection.”

My memory flashed to the gun case in his office. I didn’t get a close enough look at the gun used in yesterday’s shooting to identify it as the same model.

“And he certainly knows how to shoot,” Dina said. “What Oklahoma boy doesn’t? But he doesn’t have a motive, does he?”

Audie and I looked at each other. We hadn’t told Dina about the letter we had found. I thought about the three days between the last letter and the land run and wondered if Grace had changed his mind. We still might not know the whole story.

“Penn opposed his reelection.” I reminded her. “And we think Penn might have uncovered some skeletons in the Grace family tree that the mayor wanted to keep quiet.”

“Okay.” She dragged out the last syllable. “He stays on the list. Gwen is next. I suppose her motive would be Penn’s affair with Suzanne.”

“But she never came to the theater,” Audie said. “I think it’s safe to cross her off the list.”

“Unless she had the same model gun. But that seems unlikely. She might have a modern weapon, but not a historical piece like that.”

“I wish we knew if the police had found the murder weapon,” Audie said. “I haven’t seen anything in the paper since they revealed it was a model 1892.”

“Of course Cord had access to the guns,” Dina said and grinned. “So he had means and opportunity. But he had no motive. We can leave him off the list.”

“He had a motive.” I didn’t look at Audie while the words dragged out of me. He was right. We had to do this the proper way and look at everyone. “Penn threatened to publish a rumor about mad cow disease in Cord’s herd.”

Dina’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

“It’s not true, but just the rumor could shut down Cord’s business and do permanent harm.”

“But we have his testimony that he felt the bullet fly by his arm.” Now Audie was the one bending over backwards to play fair. “And you put blanks in the guns. I don’t think it was Cord.”

“What about my boss?” Dina tapped the pencil against her teeth. “He might have had means. He interviewed you about the reenactment, didn’t he? Did you show him the guns?”

“I showed him the guns and explained that the mayor had lent them to us for the duration of the celebration. I thought a little back-scratching wouldn’t hurt, but now I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. But we don’t know of any motive Mitch had for wanting Penn dead.”

The bite of croissant turned to dry toast in my mouth, the mayonnaise lingering in my throat like acid. “He had a motive.”

Two heads—one blond, one Christmas red—swiveled in my direction. “What’s that?” Audie sounded upset, as if I had been keeping a secret from him.

“I discovered it last night. Dina told me that the
Sequoian
might be in financial trouble, and I decided to check it out.”

“What did you learn?”

“Penn was behind a takeover bid. He’s been buying every available share.” Another piece of information fell into place. “And Suzanne told us that Mitch carried on about needing money for some business deal.” I looked at my sister. “And the fuss about the number of newspapers you printed. I think he printed fewer copies than they used to, to save money. He was pinching pennies, trying to save his business. His
family’s
business, going back to the Grace-Gaynor feud.”

“Phew.” Audie intertwined his long fingers. “What is it they say about motives for murder? There’s only a handful—revenge, jealousy, money.”

“I thought it was
cui bono
—who benefits?” Dina tossed her head. “I guess it’s another way of saying the same thing.”

“Let me see that list.” I took the steno book from Dina’s hands. “We’ve tentatively eliminated the widow. And Cord.” I smiled at Audie. “Have we established that Mitch had the means? Did you leave him alone with the guns at any point? He couldn’t have taken one with you looking on.”

Audie shook his head, frustration evident in the movement. “I did. On the morning of the play, he came into the theater. He asked if he could borrow a phone to make a call, because he had forgotten his cell phone. I was busy taking care of last minute details, so I left him alone in my office.”

“Suzanne. Mayor Ron. Gaynor.” My heart twisted. I still didn’t want the murderer to be someone I knew. I looked at the package that held the dress I had mended for Suzanne and remembered our last conversation.

“I don’t think Suzanne did it.” I shared the conversation I had with her. “At first I thought she was confessing to a murder. I was pretty scared for a few minutes! Then I realized that she was talking about her affair with Penn. I know she’s an actress, but her remorse rang true.”

“Let’s think on it,” Audie said. “Cici, are you still up for dinner tonight?”

Dina looked at the two of us. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” She pretended to huff, but couldn’t hold back the grin from her face. “Don’t worry, I won’t spill the beans. I’ve got to get to class.” She blew us a kiss on her way out the door.

Audie arched a pale eyebrow over his darkened eyes.

“She misunderstood the invitation.” The words stumbled on their way out of my mouth. “We’ve been working on this investigation together, that’s all.”

“No she didn’t.” Audie’s blue eyes bore into me like a laser light, exposing my deepest feelings. “I like your little sister—or should I call her your niece?—but I want some time alone with you.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Yes, I accept. Shall we plan on the Buffalo Herd or the Gulch?”

“The Buffalo Herd. I’m ready for Old Jim to buffalo me into his choice of dinner.” Audie grinned. The owner, Old Jim Wiseman, never used a menu and only served the special of the day—always something made from buffalo meat. Audie tipped my head to meet his dazzling eyes. “When this is over, you and I need to have a talk.”

I warmed from head to foot, followed by a delightful chill. “Okay,” I said in a small voice.

He brushed his lips across mine, wrapping me in warmth once again. “I’ll pick you up here when you close up shop.”

~

The phone rang as Audie pulled up on the street. It was Gwen Hardy.

“Cici. I’m glad I caught you.” She sounded more composed than she had on Monday.
“I found more of the Grace letters. Are you interested? I don’t want them around.”

More letters? Something that would reveal what did happen on the day of the land run? I couldn’t wait. “Absolutely. We’ll be by in a few minutes.”

I grabbed a waterproof plastic bag and put on a fringed buckskin jacket—one of the advantages of western wear—before meeting him outside. He stood on the sidewalk, holding the door of his Focus open for my convenience. My hero.

“Gwen Hardy found more of Bob Grace’s letters!” I was grinning so widely that it hurt. “I told her we’d be right over.” We stopped by the widow’s house, and then drove to the Buffalo Herd.

When Old Jim described the day’s special, Audie and I nodded agreement. His granddaughter Sara waited on us, bringing out heaping bowls of salad. I dug in with relish.

“I have an idea about our investigation,” Audie said. “In the best theatrical tradition, we should do an encore performance of the gunfight.”

My mouth dropped open. I shut it and swallowed the lettuce, dabbing at the dressing that dribbled from the corner of my mouth. “Why?”

“Maybe we can jar one of our suspects into confessing.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Isn’t that what always happens when Poirot gathers his suspects?”

“This is rural Oklahoma, not England.”

“Same principle.” Audie waved his hand, rejecting my objection. Sara appeared in response to his gesture. She refilled our coffee cups and left, standing at a discreet distance.

Audie lowered his voice. “We have two primary suspects, right?”

I leaned forward to hear. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sara smiling. Great, by tomorrow the whole town will be abuzz with news of a romantic dinner between the two of us. On top of the milkshake we shared the other day, they’ll be asking for the wedding date. And what we’re really doing is trying to solve a murder. Speaking of which. . . “The mayor and Mitch Gaynor,” I agreed.

“They both probably think they’re in the clear. Above suspicion, and all that.”