Dove in the Window (28 page)

I grinned. “One cop in the family is enough. I’ve got Emory looking into the backgrounds of those closest to Shelby. Specifically the ones who attended the barbecue. Don’t worry, I’ll be very careful about who I question. I’ve learned my lesson. Two head injuries in less than a year are certainly enough for this cowgirl.”

“Right.” Elvia’s expression said she didn’t buy my statement for one minute. “But, to help in the cause of keeping you so busy you can’t get into trouble, I have a request of you.”

I sat up, instantly suspicious at the sweetly conniving tone of her voice. “No,” I said instinctively.

“You haven’t even heard what it is yet,” Elvia said, irritated.

“Whatever it is, I already know it’s something I don’t want to do.”

“I’m desperate. You’re my last hope.”

“No.”

She sat up, straight and authoritative, in her rose-colored executive chair. “Maribelle D‘Angelo just had emergency appendectomy surgery.”

“My heartfelt sympathy,” I said, standing up, preparing to flee. I had no idea what Maribelle D‘Angelo’s job was, but I was certain of one thing ... I didn’t want it.

She ran her words together so fast I almost didn’t catch them. “She’s the cornerstone for the fashion show tomorrow night, and you’re the only person I know who’s the same size.” The fashion show, a fund-raiser for the Historical Society and Fine Arts Guild, was called “San Celina—A Century of Fashion.” Elvia was the chairperson this year.

“Fashion show!” I squealed. “No way, José. Not in this lifetime. Prancing in front of all of San Celina like a steer being auctioned off? Not this puppy. Get someone else.”

Elvia stood up, an evil smile on her face, and said the words I knew in my heart were coming. “
Mi amiga
, you owe me. Big time. Remember?”

I froze. “Dang it.”

Elvia handed me a piece of paper. “This is the place where you’ll be fitted, and they’ll give you your outfit. I made an appointment for you today at four o‘clock. You and Maribelle are the same size, so there shouldn’t be much alteration. On the day of the show, be at the Elks Club two hours early so the makeup and hair people can work their magic.
You
might want to think about getting there three hours early so they have extra time.”

I stuck my tongue out at her for that comment.

She ignored me and continued. “The show starts at seven-thirty. We’re hoping for a big crowd. We’ve already sold two hundred and fifteen tickets.”

“Two hundred and fifteen?” I echoed weakly. “What exactly am I wearing?”

She nodded at the paper. “You’re number forty-five—the last one.”

I looked down at the paper:
Peacock blue ball gown circa 1884 (bone corset and bustle included).

“A corset.” I moaned. “A bustle?”

Elvia just laughed.

14

“WHERE HAVE YOU been?” my head docent cried when I walked through the museum’s front door. “I’ve left a million messages for you.”

“I’m here now,” I said in my most soothing voice. “What’s wrong?”

“We have two busloads of schoolkids due in at one o‘clock, and two of my people have called in sick. I can’t give a tour to a hundred children alone.”

I resolved it by begging two quilters working in the co-op studios to fill in so that each person would only have about thirty or so charges. I also called the school to make sure that plenty of adults were coming with the kids. When they arrived, I decided to take a group myself, breaking the number per tour guide down even further, and managed to coordinate it so none of us was in the same room at the same time. So it was past three o‘clock before I actually went into my office to check my mail and messages. I hadn’t been there in a couple of days, and my answering machine had seven flashing messages. I settled back in my chair with my wooden letter opener and started slitting open envelopes while I listened to my messages. The first two were artists requesting information about joining our co-op. The third was a sales rep for a wholesale framing company. I was reading a colorful, crayoned letter of thanks from our last set of schoolkids when Kip’s voice caused me to drop the letter and sit upright in my chair.

“Benni? Uh ... this is Kip. I ... uh ... can you meet me at the Frio Saloon tonight? ‘Bout eight o’clock? There’s ... I tried to take care of something ... about ... you know. I tried to do it for her, not like for money or anything, but it’s not working. I’m kinda nervous. They ... uh ... Benni, I don’t know what to do. Shelby ... uh ... she trusted you. You gotta help me decide what to do.” A truck rumbled in the background telling me that his call had most likely been made from an outside pay phone. “Please,” he said, then hung up.

The machine beeped. I rewound it and listened to it three more times. Even then I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell me. I hit the top of my desk in frustration. If only I’d come by the museum yesterday afternoon and listened to my messages, Kip might still be alive, and we’d know who killed Shelby. I pulled the tape out of the machine and grabbed my purse.

“I’ll be at the police station,” I told the lady working behind the counter at the museum’s small gift shop.

Gabe was tied up in a meeting, so I waited in his secretary’s office. Maggie pressed me for details about his ravaged face.

“I tried for a little levity and told him his face would scare a bulldog off a meat truck. He didn’t laugh.” She winked at me. Out of all the police department employees, I was willing to bet only Maggie had been brave enough to mention his condition. She knew she had job security.

“I’ll tell you,” I said. “But you
didn’t
hear this from me.”

“Ranchwoman’s honor,” she said, flashing a palm. By the time I finished the story, her creamy brown cheeks were flushed dark rose, and she was laughing so hard tears sparkled in her eyes. “Oh, I wish I could have been there. I wish I had pictures for the department scrapbook.”

She managed to bring herself under control by the time Gabe’s meeting ended, and she announced my presence with a calm, normal voice. Only the glint in her black eyes as she nodded at me to go on in gave away her true feelings. She closed the door softly behind me.

Gabe was dressed in a dark gray Brooks Brothers suit, requisite white shirt, chic print tie. Very responsible looking. Very ... police chief-like.

Unfortunately the half-grown-out beard, swollen bottom lip, small white bandage on his left cheek, and rainbow shiner under his right eye sort of knocked the legs, so to speak, out from under his suit’s authority. Should I just ignore what happened and get right down to telling him about Kip’s message?

“Hi,” I said, sitting down on the visitor chair in front of his desk. Then, deciding that ignoring his condition would be ludicrous, I added, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He leaned back in his chair. “What’s up?”

Okay
, I thought.
I can take a hint as well as the next person. We’re pretending like it didn’t happen
. “Did you eat lunch?” I asked, trying to lighten the room’s tense atmosphere.

“Yes.”

“Tomato soup through a straw?” I inquired with a smile, trying to get a laugh.

He didn’t return it. “Benni, I know you think this is funny, but I personally find it humiliating. I’m very busy. Why are you here?”

“Sorry,” I said contritely, thinking I certainly deserved to have my nose bitten off when I couldn’t even take my own advice to Sam and Emory. “I’ve discovered something important about Shelby’s and Kip’s murders.”

“What?”

I opened my purse and set the miniature cassette tape on his desk. “He called yesterday, but I didn’t listen to my messages until about an hour ago.”

He pulled a small tape recorder from his desk and listened to Kip’s words. I shifted in my seat, feeling helpless and angry again that I hadn’t been able to help Kip. After listening to it five times, Gabe leaned back in his chair and rested his chin in his palm.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I’ll send it over to John,” he said. “Kip hasn’t really given us much to go on. Sounds like Shelby might have seen something ... a crime perhaps. Or possibly found out about some illegal activity.”

“Maybe she tried to blackmail someone!” I added eagerly, “And they killed her to keep her quiet. She must have let Kip in on it, and they got him, too. Did you notice he used the word ‘they’? That must mean there’s more than one, right?” I scooted forward in my chair.

He came around the desk. “I don’t know what it means, and it’s not my case anyway. Or yours, I might add, though I know that’s a waste of time.”

“Hey,” I said, standing up and poking him in the chest. “The minute I heard this, I scurried right over here like a good little citizen. Six months ago I wouldn’t have told you for days.”

Taking my finger and shaking it, he laughed, grimacing at the pain. “Yes, sweetheart, I know, and I’m very proud of you.”

I sighed deeply. “If only I’d listened to my messages sooner...”

“Stop it,” he said. “I don’t want you feeling guilty over something that wasn’t your fault. Frankly, I’m glad you weren’t able to meet him.”

“I’m not. I might have kept him from getting killed.”

He smoothed down the top of my hair. “Or gotten killed yourself.”

“Well, I just want credit for bringing this right to your desk with no sidetracking.”

“Credit given. What are you doing the rest of the afternoon?”

This time I grimaced. “Elvia finally extracted her revenge on me. Apparently one of the ladies in the fashion show tomorrow night is in the hospital, and I have to take her place. I’m going by the costume shop downtown for a fitting.”

“You’re in the fashion show!” He laughed out loud. “Good for Elvia. What decade are you?” Gabe had managed to finagle wearing a classic forties suit and hat. Not a huge departure from his normal mode of dress. He’d threatened Elvia with a boycott if she made him wear a seventies leisure suit.

“Eighteen eighties,” I grumbled. “They have me wearing a peacock blue ball gown. I haven’t actually seen it yet.”

He grinned. “Didn’t women wear corsets back then? And bustles?”

“Very funny,” I said, holding up a fist to him. “I could give you matching eyes, you know.”

He bent over and kissed my fist, wincing as he did. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t forget, we have the fish egg—eating party at the mayor’s tonight. Seven o‘clock.”

“And you can practice having some class right now. It’s called caviar.”

“Ha! Etiquette lessons from a man who brawls before brunch.”

“Get lost,” he said good-naturedly.

I felt better about his sunnier mood as I drove downtown to be fitted for my dress. Maybe the fight cleared everything out of his and Wade’s testosterone-filled systems, and we could concentrate now on the real problem—who killed Shelby and Kip? I wondered if Isaac found anything helpful at Shelby’s apartment. I glanced at my watch after I parked the truck in the five-story parking structure. Five minutes past four. I had to meet Isaac in less than an hour, and the only new information I had for him was about Kip’s missed phone call. The bartender at the Frio Saloon hadn’t shed any new light on the subject except to say that possibly Bobby could have ambushed Kip later. I headed for the costume shop downtown, where the Historical Society was storing all the clothes for the fashion show. After giving my name to the female clerk sporting three nose rings, I was directed to the back fitting room where Helen Berrymore, fund-raising chairman for the Historical Society, was flipping through hanging clothing bags and marking off things on a dark brown clipboard. Helen and Dove were longtime friends who had a once-a-year date to put up pickles together.

“Hi, Helen. Sorry I’m late,” I said, immediately sneezing twice. The room was warm and smelled of mothballs and Helen’s White Shoulders perfume.

“My goodness. God bless you, Benni.” She blinked her round, pale blue eyes rapidly, patting me on the back as if I were choking, not sneezing.

“I think I’m supposed to get fitted for something.” I rubbed my nose and sat down on a stool next to a full set of armor.

She flipped through her clipboard. “That’s right, Maribelle’s appendix burst on her. Looks like you’ll be the belle of the ball tomorrow night.”

“Oh, lucky me,” I said. “So where’s my costume?”

She turned and unzipped a wine-colored clothing bag hanging behind her. The dress seemed impossibly small, and a distant ray of hope started to glow within me.

“I couldn’t possibly fit in that dress,” I said cheerfully, slipping down off the stool. “Too many tri-tip sandwiches and moonpies. Guess you all will have to find someone else.”

She peered at me over her Ben Franklin spectacles. “Albenia Harper, you are a size seven, am I not correct?”

“Well ...” I hedged. “I honestly haven’t bought any clothes for a long time. I’m sure I’m much heavier. You know how getting married puts the weight on you.” I pouched out my stomach slightly and patted it.

She scanned me with a critical eye. “Take off those jeans, young lady, and we’ll just see. Elvia called before you came and said you’d try to wiggle out of this. Where’s your community spirit? For heaven’s sake, you’d think I was asking you to strip naked and do the frug.”