Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 01 - Murder of the Month (10 page)

“
If you had seen Gil at church last night, trying to help with the arrangements … well, he wasn’t able to focus on the simplest detail. He’s just so broken up. ‘Minnie,’ he said, ‘you’re an angel. Do whatever you think best to make things nice for Vanessa.’ Can you beat that? Bless his heart. It was all I could do to keep from telling him right then and there about this outlandish idea of Bianca’s. I’m mortally ashamed for being even half associated with it.”

“You aren’t really—” I began.

“
I know, I know,” she said, “but it sort of feels like I am because I was listening to Bianca. Where was I? Oh, yes, we worked until after midnight last night trying to make order out of the flowers pouring in. See all those vases up front? Those are just a few of them. Every nursing home in the county is taking in the overflow, on Gil’s orders. Doesn’t that beat all? In the midst of everything he’s gone through, he thought of the old folks—some of them all alone—in nursing homes.” She lowered her voice again. “So, how’s it going? Have you …?”

“Talked to Bianca? Yes, some. Have you?”

“
Heavens, no. I’ve been in the kitchen for days—at home and at church—arranging things for the meal after this service.”

“
She hasn’t changed her mind, as far as I know.”

“
Well, ‘none are so blind as they that will not see,’ but don’t give up. You’re our best hope, Jane. Frankly, I think she sees me as an old fuddy duddy.”

“
She sees me the same way.”

“Really? You don’t look old enough to have one grown daughter, let alone three. You’re just a pup.”

“Not to Bianca. Look, I know Bianca’s young and headstrong, but she thinks it’s important for us to read that book. I’m hoping that if we humor her, she’ll feel that we’re taking her seriously, and maybe that will be enough to calm her down.”

“
How can we take anyone seriously who starts with a crazy accusation of … well, you know … against … rice pudding?” Again Minnie raised her voice to address someone passing by. “Yes, that’s wonderful, Ardell, even if you were out of raisins. A double batch? Wonderful.” She turned back to me, triumphant. “What did I tell you? This just gladdens my heart.”

Minnie did another of her quick subject changes, but by now, I was catching on to her signals. When Minnie’s voice went down, she was talking about Bianca; up meant she was back to food. Her voice was currently low. “How anyone can think … It’s just plain crazy. Reading a book isn’t going to change that fact.”

“
Well, you know that and I know that, but I gave my word.” I threw in the clincher. “Just think of her as a lost lamb that needs to be brought back into the fold. She needs our help … your help, Minnie. If we can keep her focused for a few days on the book instead of running around town—”

Minnie smiled. “I get it. Then after we listen to her, we tell her she’s nuts—but gently.”

“
Er … exactly. And no harm done.”

“
Well, okay, but I hope she drops the whole idea before we get that far.”

“
I wouldn’t count on it. Ever since Arnie declared the investigation complete yesterday, she seems more determined than ever to track down some evidence.”

“
How can she find evidence about a crime that didn’t happen?”
“Well—”

“
Oh, no,” Minnie’s voice rose and she looked stricken.

“
What’s wrong?” I asked. I was getting good at reading Minnie’s signals and deduced that we were back to food again. “Did you forget to tell someone to heat up the oven?”

Minnie half rose from her seat, her mouth hanging open. “Jane,” she croaked.

After casting a quick glance in the direction that Minnie was pointing, I clamped a hand on her arm, forcing her back into the chair. She had switched signals on me. “Don’t look. You’ll make it worse.”

“
How could it be worse? Look at her.”

“
I just did, but we don’t want everyone else doing the same thing.”

“
Oh, right, right. The fewer, the better.”

The music swelled with one last magnificent chord and stopped. Thank goodness all eyes turned dutifully toward the Reverend Roger Marshall, who stood at the podium shuffling papers. Finally, he looked up. “As we have been taught, ‘ashes to ashes and dust to dust… .’” His powerful voice carried the ancient words easily to the large crowd.

I wanted to concentrate on the calming message of hope and redemption, but found myself more inclined to violent thoughts about wringing Bianca’s beautiful neck. Ignoring my own excellent advice to Minnie, I sneaked a glance toward the grove of elm trees along the far side of the cemetery away from the road. A long lens protruded first from one leafy branch and then another, high one time and low the next, making it look for all the world as though a sniper were hiding in the trees. Wendell lay in the grass in front of the grove, panting in the heat. What was Bianca doing over there with that camera? I stifled a totally inappropriate impulse to laugh as I pictured the next logical step—Bianca in a leafy combat helmet rising to advance grimly on her subject to shoot a few close-ups.

I pressed a handkerchief to my mouth and struggled to regain my composure. Apparently assuming that I was overcome by the power of the Reverend Marshall’s oratory, the kindly chicken casserole woman sitting next to me patted my arm. “There, dear, I know.”

Though she was half hidden by the branches of the trees, I could see Bianca alternately swatting at flies and snapping pictures. She was swathed from head to toe in black. I didn’t hear a word of the service from that point on. Bianca’s beloved Rhami taught that it was necessary to rise above trivial aggravation, but I didn’t seem able to do that at the moment. Minnie wasn’t all that relaxed either. I could practically feel her vibrating with anger.

The minute the service concluded, Minnie shot out of her chair and raced toward the grove of trees sheltering Bianca. With her paisley scarf streaming behind her like a battle flag atop a destroyer, she bore down on her unsuspecting target vessel with surprising speed. Somewhat numb, I bobbed along in her wake.

“
I don’t believe it. I absolutely do not believe it,” Minnie said, pausing between words to catch her breath from the unaccustomed exercise.

“
How did you know I was here?” Bianca asked.

“
The next time you’re trying to hide,” Minnie advised, “don’t be the only person at a funeral wearing a floor-length black dress and a veil on a hot August day. You look like a movie star hiding from the paparazzi.”

“
How did you know it was me under all this?” Bianca asked, throwing back the veil to reveal dark glasses underneath. “It was really hard to take pictures with both the veil and the dark glasses, but I wore them the whole time, except when I was talking to the police.”

“
Do you see anybody else here with a black, one-eyed dog?” I asked.

Bianca looked behind her for Wendell, but then located him out in front of the trees, watching people as they left the cemetery. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t think of that.”

“What did you say to the police?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t give anything away. I just talked about freedom of the press and stuff … told them I was doing a feature I hoped to sell to the
Juniper Journal
. They already know I’m a photographer because of that incident with the swan fountain. Remember, Mom?” She paused until I acknowledged with a curt nod that I did, indeed, remember that most embarrassing event, before she continued. “I don’t think they believed me about the feature, but it doesn’t matter. After seeing I didn’t have a gun or anything, they sort of rolled their eyes and left.”

“
What were you thinking?” asked Minnie. “Or were you thinking, Bianca?”

I stepped between them. Minnie’s resolve to help the lost lamb seemed to have evaporated. I tried for a less confrontational tone. “What were you hoping to accomplish?”

Bianca lifted her chin. “I was gathering evidence, of course, which I will show you in due course.” She turned away, tripping on the hem of her long dress in the process. “Come on, Wendell. Let’s go.”

“
Now I’ve heard everything,” Minnie said.

“
I doubt it,” I said wearily.

Most of the women arriving at Thornton’s for the regular meeting of the Women’s Empowerment Group two days after Vanessa’s funeral marched straight up the stairs, stopping neither to browse for books nor to give more than a cursory greeting. That was fine with me. I’d been fearful that Bianca’s recent performance would elicit questions from people who knew she was my daughter. Of course maybe they were galloping up the stairs to ask her about it directly. I’d been busy with a customer when she’d arrived today so she and I hadn’t spoken.

The WEG members came in all shapes and sizes, but the cumulative effect was one of determination and energy. No wonder Bianca enjoyed their company. Mostly, they made me tired when they started preaching about empowerment and rights. I agreed with some of their complaints about the world, but a few of these women were so generically angry at men that I felt like a traitor to my gender when I admitted that I had actually liked my husband.

Theoretically, men could join the group, but so far none had dared. Probably afraid of being devoured, I thought. However, Bianca actively sought out men as potential recruits. She felt sure they would benefit from hearing the ideas presented at the meetings. Early last week—though it seemed years ago after all that had happened since—she had eagerly approached Laurence about attending today’s session.

“Why don’t you come?” she’d asked. “We’d love to see some men at the meetings. You don’t have to put men down to raise women up, so there’s no reason men can’t join. In fact, we’re having Gil Fortune next week as our guest speaker to talk about opportunities in the legal profession for women.”

Laurence had muttered something vague and scuttled away to the back room as fast as his spindly legs could take him, wearing the same bemused expression he always got when talking to Bianca.

“Hi, Jane.” Linda Sanchez’s arrival today, announced by the click of her high heels, brought me back to the present. She was wearing a navy blue St. John’s ensemble that whispered elegance, femininity, and competence. No mean feat.

“Hello, Linda. Nice to see you again. Is Gil really going to be here today? I thought—”

Linda shrugged. “Haven’t talked to him since Sunday. He hasn’t been back to work yet.”

“If he doesn’t show up here today, no one would blame him. Maybe you could pinch hit. I can’t think of a better example of a successful woman in your profession. Talk about a role model.”

“Well, thanks, but I don’t think Gil would appreciate that. He’ll probably be here.” Her voice lacked its usual animation, leading me to wonder whether the rumor of tension between them was true.

We both turned at the sound of the door opening again, but it wasn’t Gil who entered. Nick ambled up to the counter, looking about as rumpled as I felt next to Linda.

“Been out fishing?” I asked. Nick always looked as though he spent more time admiring the Central Oregon scenery than studying himself in a mirror

“How’d you know?” he answered.

“Lucky guess. I don’t suppose you two have met. Linda Sanchez, assistant Russell County D.A., meet Nick Constantine, who’s an attorney in Santa Monica when he’s not vacationing here.”

Linda said, “An old friend of mine works in the Santa Monica D.A.‘s office. Do you happen to know Amy D’Agostino?”

“Sure, I know Amy. Small world.”

As they chatted, Nick showed a certain attentiveness to Linda that I hadn’t noticed when he talked to me. Not that it mattered, of course, but I ran a mental check of my own appearance and vowed for the hundredth time to do something about my wardrobe. I might not be interested in dating, but I didn’t like being invisible to men either.

“My book here?” Nick asked at last.

“Not yet. I’d have called you.”

“Just thought I’d check.”

“Then you aren’t here for the WEG meeting?” Linda asked. “Women’s Empowerment Group,” she elaborated with a mischievous smile. “Today’s topic is women in the legal profession, and men are welcome to attend. I’ll bet you’d have something to add to the discussion.”

“I don’t know about that, but since I’m here, I couldn’t possibly pass up such a fascinating subject. Lead the way,” he said. “Coming, Jane?”

“I’m working, but you go ahead.”

As they disappeared up the stairs, still in animated conversation, Harley swept into the bookstore, checking his watch as he came. Even on this warm summer afternoon, his blue pin-striped suit and grey tie looked just right. Nick could take clothing tips from him. “Jane, I’m glad you’re alone. I need your help. It’s about your daughter.”

“Bianca?” My voice sounded faint, even to me. I swallowed and tried again. “I was … I was hoping no one had noticed. Did Gil see her?”

Harley looked at me pityingly. “Everybody saw her.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve already talked to her—”

“Gil knows about Bianca’s interest in photography from that project she and Vanessa were putting together for the Women’s Empowerment Group, so he … well, let’s just say he already knows that she’s intense and … unusual.”

“That’s very generous of him. I can’t tell you how upset I was about that stunt. Bianca is just—”