Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) (13 page)

“Well, that wasn’t the end of
my
show biz career, you know. You probably don’t remember, but I stuck around for one more play. I worked on that
Merry Marinade
. It was even stupider than that
Last
Leaf
monstrosity.”

I frowned. “Don’t call it that. The play was sweet. And romantic.”

Gil kissed the top of my head. “You would think that.”

We were at home in our lake house, finishing a cleanup in the kitchen. “Anyway, I had to quit after that and get a real job.” He knelt to put cleaning products under the sink.

“I know.”

It was a painful memory for him. Gil’s mother had begun her final battle with cancer that fall. It took a huge toll on his family, especially his father, who took self-destructive refuge in alcohol.

I changed the subject. “We had a good time in Florida, but I hated leaving town, even to go to Disney. I wanted to find out if Janey ever came back. When I asked people about it later, nobody seemed to know.”

“Nope, not another sign of her, not while I was there. And Danny was long gone too.” Gil laughed. “Would you believe Terence Jamison took over his part in
Marinade
?”

It had seemed so important at the time. Now it was just a long-ago information tidbit.

“Really? How was he?”

“Not bad, but not great. He wasn’t much of a singer, but he was a good dancer. He added a big dance number right in the middle of the big love scene. It was kind of lame, no pun intended.”

“Janey was always a bit unstable, I could see her running away, but I was quite disappointed in Danny.”

“Honey, the man’s dead now. Give him a break. As for Janey, judging by the news reports I’ve been seeing lately, she isn’t around either.” He stood and stretched.

I had turned on the disposal. I turned it off abruptly.

“She died?”

“I know you get most of your news from Lily Burns, but surely you read about the mobster and his confession. It was Gino Bernini, didn’t you know that? He died last week, and his lawyer just released a public statement.”

“
The
Gino Bernini? The uncle? The same fellow who accosted Danny in Lake Placid?”

“That’s right.”

I rinsed my hands under the faucet and grabbed a paper towel. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that! But I get so tired that I don’t pay much attention to news.” I finished drying my hands and threw the paper towel away. “Wow. That’s really interesting. What did the statement say?” I reached into a cupboard and pulled out a mug. “Want some coffee?”

“Not if you’re making that decaf junk, thanks.” He sat at the kitchen counter and watched me put the cup of water into the microwave. “Anyway, the old guy, Bernini, must have been in his late nineties. The gist of the story was that he had only one regret in his long life: arranging a hit on three innocent people who’d testified against him in court. One was a young woman in show business. They didn’t give the name but, well, connect the dots.” Gil waved his hand. “After the murders, the bodies were buried somewhere up in the Adirondack Park. The police don’t know where. There’s a search going on now.”

My knees grew weak. I came around the counter and sat down next to Gil.

“Oh, no. Poor Janey. That poor, scared girl. And Lily and I gossiped so brutally about her!”

The microwave dinged. “Okay, given. You and Lily didn’t like her much, but brutal is a relative term, honey.” Gil got up and brought me the cup of hot water, a spoon and the jar of instant decaf. “I think Bernini’s people knew more about that kind of thing than you did.”

I reached across the counter and pulled the tabloid that had started all these memories toward me. I tapped the picture.

“Do you think Danny’s murder had anything to do with this? Why would anybody want to kill him?”

Gil shrugged. “Who knows? A lot of time has passed since we knew him. We’ll probably never find out.” He sat down on a nearby stool and wrapped his arms around me. “You need to stop thinking about this stuff. You and little what’s-her-name need to finish your nice cup of decaf and go take a nap.”

I snuggled into him, feeling frustration fade into affection. The past was the past. Gil and the baby were my reality now.

Could I be any more blessed?

The brisk knock on our front door the next morning was expected. Gil had already left for the newspaper office, and our friend Dr. Alexander Alexander had offered to give me a lift to Chez Prentice, where I would conduct my summer tutoring sessions.

“Bonny!” he exclaimed when I opened the door. “That’s what ye are, m’dear, bonny!”

I’d always wondered why Alec’s American English carried a decidedly Scots accent, but he wasn’t very forthcoming about his past and people in the North Country didn’t like to pry. At least, this person didn’t. He gazed down at me with unfeigned delight. Alec was a large man, kind of scruffy and barrel-chested, but a bit thinner in recent months. It was my opinion that his on-again, off-again relationship with my glamorous blonde friend Lily Burns,
née
McIndrick, had taken its toll.

“Thank you, kind sir. I wish I felt bonny.” I picked up my satchel and house key from the hall table and pulled the door closed. “I’m getting impatient for this to be over.” I patted my rotund belly.

He gallantly opened the car door for me. “I must confess I’m that eager to dandle your little one on m’knee.”

“Dandling will probably have to wait until she’s a few months old,” I pointed out as he started the engine. “But I’ll make sure you have your turn rocking her. Speaking of bonny!” I waved my hand at him. Alec was dressed to the nines in the suit he’d worn at my wedding, complete with button-down dress shirt and necktie. “Is that cologne I smell?”

He smiled shyly. “Forty-seven eleven. Lily likes it. In fact—” He broke off as he turned from our driveway onto the road.

I waited. “In fact what, Alec?”

“Ah, well, she’s bound to tell you straight away after, since you’re such good friends.” He frowned and stared at the road. “I’m popping the question this time, Amelia. I really am.”

“Are you sure? You said that months ago, and I never heard another word.”

He was right about one thing: Lily would have told me immediately, no matter what her answer was. She was still my friend, despite being a first-class gossip, after all these years. I was very fond of both of them and rather hoped she’d say yes.

He nodded decisively. “I am sure. We’re neither of us getting any younger—don’t tell her I said that—and I make a good living. My government grants may be gone, but I still have my private industrial grants and my position at the college. And a quite good retirement plan; not that I plan to slow down for many years yet, mind you.”

Alec taught at the local college, but his passion was searching for evidence of Lake Champlain’s own fabled version of the Loch Ness Monster.

“When are you going to do this, this question popping?”

He smiled at me. “Tonight. We’re going to an early dinner and later, I thought I might suggest we drive to Hogan’s Cliff to watch the sunset. An opportune moment, if I do say so m’self.”

“A fine choice of scenery. It sounds as though you have it all planned out.” I felt an obligation to be honest with him. “The trouble is, Alec, you had it all planned out the last time too. What happened?”

“Well, you’ll remember, I was going to cook for her that night. We had finished our meal and I went to fetch dessert. It was my mother’s recipe for strawberry shortcake. Well, I’d burned the cakes and so we bundled up—it was cold that night, you know—and we went into town to Candyland Restaurant for some pie instead. And by the time we finished having our coffee, Lily said she had an early morning the next day and was dead on her feet.” He smiled. “You can see that under the circumstances the timing wasn’t exactly right, and I haven’t found another moment since.”

It occurred to me that Lily, as lovely-looking as she was, might be a rather formidable woman to propose to. Or
to whom to propose
, I reminded myself. When we’d had our falling out last winter, it had been quite an ordeal. Our friendship was patched up, thank heaven, but Alec’s case of nerves was certainly understandable.

“I’ll be waiting eagerly to hear what happens.”

To borrow my student Hardy Patchke’s expression, Lily’d been a little squirrely ever since her husband Duane died, over ten years ago. I approved of this match. Alec was thoroughly besotted with Lily, and Lily, for her part, needed a steadying influence. Alec had a way of calming her down that amazed me. Perhaps she loved him, too, in her own way.

I said a prayer for Alec and Lily that night, though I wasn’t even sure what to pray for.

Thy will be done.

“Oh, good, you’re here.” Lily swept into the kitchen of Chez Prentice the next day and sat down next to me at the huge kitchen table. As usual, she looked cool and crisp in a sleeveless cotton dress with sandals in the exact same shade. Her blonde hair was perfect, of course, tousled just enough to be stylish and not messy.

“I took a chance you’d be because I want to ask you a question. Amelia, just how old is Sam? I’ve got him out in the carrier in my car with the A/C on, so hurry up and tell me. I don’t want him to get kidnapped—or is it catnapped?” She waved her manicured hand toward the door. “Or my car stolen either. I’m taking him in to update his shots.”

She smiled her thanks to Hester Swanson, who brought her a glass of iced tea, then spoiled the courteous gesture. “I’ll need a to-go cup for this.”

Hester shrugged and nodded.

“Fine, Lily, and how are you?” I took another sip of my milk. “I have no idea how old he is.”

The Sam she asked about was Samuel de Champlain, my late mother’s elderly, beloved, and moderately obese cat. I had inherited him and recently passed him on to Lily, who was more of a cat-lover than I.

“Mother found him as a kitten in the parking lot of the Grand Union supermarket ages ago. I don’t even remember when. It was quite a while after Barbara married, I know that.” My sister now resided in Florida with her husband and teenaged brood of four. “Does that help?” I added.

Lily frowned. “Not particularly. Well, if you don’t remember, I guess I—”

She reached for her iced tea, but Hester snatched it from in front of her, dumped the contents into a foam container, and snapped the top in place with a practiced air. “That do ya?” She tilted her head and parked fists on her ample hips.

“Yes, thanks.”

The Junoesque Hester, our housekeeper and cook, was one of the few people around who was able to hold her own with my friend.

Lily wrinkled her nose. “The vet thinks he’s at the age when he needs to become an indoor cat, but Sam really hates it, I can tell. He’s taken to sharpening his claws on my tapestry settee and don’t get me started on what he’s done to the fabric blinds. I guess I’ll just have to let him have his freedom to do what comes naturally.” She shuddered as she gathered up her purse. “He brought me a bird the other day. It wasn’t dead. I picked it up with a spatula after he dropped it on the porch and the poor thing flew away. I wonder if Sam’s teeth are all right.”

“Have you heard from Alec lately?” I interrupted casually.

She glanced at me, momentarily diverted. “No, not for a few days. He had to break a dinner date with me last night. Why?”

My heart sank. I shrugged.

“No reason.”

She grabbed her keys and snapped to. “Gotta fly. See you!” She was gone.

I repaired to the office to fetch my tutoring materials. The B&B’s office was my father’s former study. Marie LeBow, our general manager, sat behind Papa’s big desk scanning a piece of paper. She glanced up as I entered.

“Amelia? I have a question. I’ve been looking over our list of linens. Would you know if your mother had any extra-long tablecloths put away somewhere, maybe in the attic? I mean, ones that would fit when we put all the leaves in the dining room table?”

I pulled open the file drawer marked “Amelia” and extracted two textbooks and a long legal pad. “I’m not sure. Perhaps. I only remember my folks using all three leaves one time, for a family reunion. You could check in the back of the big linen closet upstairs. What do you need it for?”

I was well aware that I’d ended a sentence with a preposition. Sometimes it was just too difficult to constantly maintain proper grammar.

Marie’s quizzical expression changed to an elated one. “We have a big, big event coming up, a retirement party for some kind of show-business person. We’ll be catering it too. They want dinner and a cake and everything, and there’ll be some family from out of town staying here. We’ll be full up—isn’t that great? It’ll help pay for replacing the front lawn next spring.”

Ever since my business partners Marie and her husband Etienne had opened my old family home as a bed and breakfast, they’d been systematically sprucing up the place.

She returned to the issue at hand. “But I was hoping I wouldn’t have to buy another tablecloth.”

Marie was nothing if not practical.

Lily stepped into the room. “You do, too, have one.”

She must have been listening at the door. She strolled in as though she was part of the conversation and not just an eavesdropper. I should have realized she was there when the scent of
Toujours Moi
filled the room.

“At least, you used to.”

“Did you go to the veterinarian already? I know it’s not far, but you certainly were quick.”

“They told me to leave him there. They had to do, um, various things. Better them than me. But as I was saying, I know you have one.”

Marie and I spoke together. “Have what?”

“A long tablecloth. My mother borrowed it from your mother once, Amelia. Cream-colored linen, with cutwork flowers in the corners. There used to be some napkins to go with it; about ten, I think. I’ll bet it’s up in the attic.” She raised her eyebrows and looked toward the ceiling.

“Thanks, I’ll check it out,” Marie said.

Lily crossed her arms and tilted her head. “But what about this show business person you mentioned? Anybody famous?”

Marie shrugged. “I don’t think so. A woman named Dierdre Joseph is throwing the party. She’s planning it for her brother. Name’s Jamie something.”

Lily and I looked at each other. “Not Jamison, is it?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Clarence, no, wait a minute, Terence Jamison, I think it is.”

“And her name is Dierdre? His sister?”

Marie nodded. “That’s right. She’s from Peru.”

The Peru to which Marie referred was not the far-away South American country, but a small town, just twelve miles down the road. Their high school and our high school were bitter sports rivals.

Lily smiled. “What do you know? Ol’ Dierdre Jamison’s been here all the time. Do you remember her, Amelia?”

“Oh, yes.” It was uncanny. “I was just thinking about her the other day. Marie, could I use the computer for a while? I want to do a little research.”

She stood and came around the desk. “Help yourself. I’m going upstairs.” She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse just before she went out the door. “If there’s an extra-long tablecloth in this house, I’m gonna find it.”

Lily called after her, “Good luck.”

I moved around the desk to take a seat at the computer.

“Hold it. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting ready to go online.”

Lily shook her head. “Move aside. You might break this thing.”

I was indignant, but I did give her access to Marie’s chair. “We have a computer at our house, you know.” I stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.

Lily flexed her fingers over the keyboard. “I’ve seen that ancient thing. It’s strictly twentieth century. So are you, if we’re being honest. Don’t you remember telling me you wished they’d bring back the card catalog at the library?”

“I liked the feeling of control,” I protested, knowing full well it was futile to argue.

“Now, where do we want to begin? Terence or Dierdre? Let’s start with him.” She began typing.

“How did you know what I planned to look up?”

“Girlfriend, I can read you like a book. Tell me we weren’t both thinking the same thing.” A list of links appeared onscreen. “Okay, here we go! St. Terence, Terence Howard, Terence Hill, Terence Jamison . . . here he is.” She clicked the link and more lists appeared. “Look, here’s mention of Terence and Pat Jamison.”

I leaned in, and we both read the screen. After the summer Lily and I had worked with them, Terence and Pat had gone back to New York and produced a series of films based on children’s books for public television.

“I wouldn’t know much about that. I stopped watching kid’s shows when Scooby-Doo went off the air. Look at this.” Lily moved the mouse and clicked on another link.

“Here’s a review of his nightclub act.” She read aloud, “ ‘Terence Jamison’s
Lost Broadway Treasures
just trots out old, obscure, unpopular songs. Strictly amateur hour.’ ”

“I hope Terence hasn’t read this.”

“If he did, it was so long ago, he’s probably forgotten it. Oh, boy, jackpot! Look at this!”

On Wikipedia, there was an entire page about Terence’s iconic role as the Storybook Dragon, a character in the popular children’s show
Grandma and the Dragon.

“I’ve heard of it. A couple of my students wrote essays about the program. I can’t believe I didn’t know that was Terence. Look, Lily! Look who played Grandma.” I pointed to a caption beneath a black and white photo of a white-haired woman in a rocking chair with a big red book in her lap, looking up at the Dragon. “Pat Jamison. She must have worn a wig.”

“Or maybe her hair really had turned white,” Lily said.

Apparently, the program’s goal was to encourage third graders and older children to read chapter books on their own. The series lasted for about ten years before it was cancelled.

Lily searched some more. “That’s it. That’s all I can find on them, but just out of curiosity . . . ” She began typing again: “Neil Claussen.”

I leaned forward. “He has a website: NeilClaussenHeadliner.com.”

“
Had
a website,” Lily said. “The last thing in here is over seven years old. I think the word
headliner
was just wishful thinking. Look over here.”

She was right. According to another show business website, Neil had done some tiny walk-on roles in several long-ago sitcoms and appeared in a nightclub somewhere in Connecticut. The last thing was a mention of his starring in a dinner theatre production of the old musical
Sherry
in central Oklahoma about six years ago. There was nothing about being on Broadway.

“Remember that fight in the alley right after he lost that part in a play? He blamed Danny. He was—or is—really talented, but it looks like his career never really got off the ground again.”

“Maybe he was right about it being Danny’s fault. Or rather, his uncle’s fault,” I said. “They seemed to truly hate each other after that fight. And I remember what you said about violin cases?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lily half smiled. “I’m kind of sorry I was so mean to him back then.”

“You were a child, Lily. We both were.”

“True.”

“Besides, there was that betting thing.”

Lily frowned. “I’m still not sure I believe that.”

We looked up Dierdre Jamison Joseph, but all we found was her wedding announcement from a newspaper archive, dated fourteen years ago.

“What about Danny? Let’s look him up.”

“Haven’t you heard about that? He’s dead.” Sad as the news was, it was still a coup to know something Lily didn’t.

“What? Oh, no, that gorgeous man! What happened? Where did you hear this?”

“He was murdered. It was a terrible thing. I’ve got a newspaper article at home. I’ll let you read it. But look, Lily, I have to get going. I have a tutoring session in ten minutes.” I scooped up my materials.

Lily glanced at her watch. “Oh yes, I’ve got to run too! I told them I’d pick up Sam about this time. They promised that after all those procedures, they’d give him a bath. He won’t be feeling himself.”

As I bid Lily goodbye and waited for my pupil to arrive, I said a quick, silent prayer for the veterinarian.