A Lie for a Lie (35 page)

“She’s done that on her trips to California, you know, for that board she’s on. I guess it’s a lot harder than it sounds to meet the right people, although she did have a near miss a while ago.”

“Did she?”

“She wouldn’t tell me much about it. Just that she thought she’d worked out something, and she was so excited. Then I guess it fell through. She was really depressed for a few months, not like herself at all. And she stopped writing, although I think she started again recently.”

“A while ago?”

“A year maybe. Almost two? Anyway, I think she’s back on track.”

My heart was pounding now, and I wasn’t sure whether it was from the exercise, or Camille’s revelation. “Well, that’s good news.”

“I don’t think she’d be willing to expose herself that way in public, though, Aggie. With the songs, I mean, even though your idea’s very nice. But she told me once that a long time ago she sang one of her songs in an audition and was completely humiliated when the judges sent her away. So she doesn’t perform, and she doesn’t show her songs to just anybody.”

I was almost sure I knew one person she had showed them to. “Except when she’s trying to sell them,” I said.

“I bet even that’s hard for her.” Camille got off the bike and came over to show me the next exercise, which involved using my toes to push the same footrest and strengthen my calves.

“We’re almost done, right?” I smiled brightly. “Once my legs are all toned and perfect?”

Camille laughed, much the way the Inquisition judges must have laughed at Galileo.

“When do you think we will be finished?” I asked as she added weights.

“Maybe an hour. I have some great exercises with the medicine ball. And I thought we could finish you up with the punching bag.”

I hoped that in an hour I would still have the breath for a phone call. Because the moment I was finished here, if I was still alive, I was going to punch all right. I was going to punch in Fred’s number on my speed dial for one final heart-to-heart. It was a good thing I had never learned how to delete it.

I was tired of making mistakes, of putting myself in danger, of waiting until a killer was practically standing in front of me before all the clues came together in my head. I was tired of depending on other people to happen along when things looked particularly gruesome. This time I was going to get everything right.

Of course, I’m not stupid. “Right” and even “best” would have been to tell Detective Roussos what I’d figured out, and let him do the dirty work. Unfortunately I didn’t have enough proof to lift even one of his bushy eyebrows, much less send him to investigate. My phone call with Fred had confirmed my theory. Now I was pretty sure what had taken place, and why Grady had ended up dead on the green room floor. I just needed proof.

With Lucy’s help, I was going to get it.

Unlike my mother, I’m not into costumes, but when I got up on Friday morning I dressed carefully. Care was good, since every muscle in my body was still screaming from the workout at Camille’s. We were scheduled for the same time next week. I figured if my plans today went awry and I ended up with angel wings, missing the date with Godzilla would be a silver lining.

In case I needed to move quickly, I put on comfortable, loose-fitting clothing, although not so loose the fabric would be easy to grab. I debated running shoes or something with a harder heel and went for flats with enough of a heel to do damage if necessary.

I’m not my father’s daughter for nothing.

I had debated and rejected telling Ed my plan. I knew what he would say, and could I blame him? But I had to do this. Whatever I thought of the idea, Nora Nelson deserved to build her biosphere. Grady Barber, as obnoxious as he had been, deserved to have his real killer apprehended. I deserved to get back to my normal life.

Emerald Springs deserved a good thunderstorm, but that was the one item I couldn’t do anything about.

I took a couple of deep breaths and groaned my way through a series of stretching exercises, then I went downstairs. Ed was making breakfast. My stomach was tied in knots, and I didn’t think I could hold a full cup of coffee without spilling it, but I had to make a stab at eating. I needed to leave the house at nine this morning, but not a minute after. That meant I still had time to kill.

I wish I hadn’t thought about it in quite those words.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

I gave him a good-morning kiss. We did our morning exchange about how we’d slept and our craziest dreams, then Ed recounted the news headlines, which are a lot more interesting coming from him than teasing them out of the
Flow
. A disaster somewhere other than Emerald Springs will be relegated to our back pages, while a significant local event, like cows escaping a pasture, or a city council discussion on trash pickup, will be front headlines.

“Yum,” I said, as my stomach turned over at the sight of blueberry-splattered whole wheat pancakes. Even one of those babies was going to sink like a stone.

“Get yourself some coffee.”

I was careful to fill my mug only halfway. I got out the butter and syrup and kept my eye on the kitchen clock. Once the table was set and the girls arrived, we sat down to eat together, although luckily, nobody was feeling chatty. The minute hand was moving slowly. My jaw was moving even more slowly, but I managed to finish every bite on my plate and most of my coffee.

“Isn’t Grady Barber’s memorial service this afternoon?” Ed asked.

“It is.” I nodded, as if this meant nothing.

“You’re planning to go, I take it?”

“Yep. You don’t have to be there, though. You do enough yourself without attending this one.”

“It’ll probably be a media circus.”

If the service actually went forward, the
Flow
and possibly the wire services would cover the event, but if things went as planned this morning, in the next few days there would be more interesting news to write about.

Nine o’clock had almost arrived. I got up and put my dishes in the sink, then I snapped my fingers. “You know, I just remembered where I left my cell phone.”

“You lost your cell phone?”

“I was afraid I did, but I just realized I had it out when I was in the church yesterday talking to Esther. I think I laid it on one of the pews.”

“January will find it when he cleans this afternoon.”

January was our sexton, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to find it, since I’d hidden it so well. “Maybe, but I think I’ll run over and get it. I don’t want to leave it to chance. Do you mind?”

“I’m hanging around here until noon. I’ll be at the church after that.”

“While I’m over there maybe I’ll do a little cleanup on those leftover wedding flowers. Esther and I both thought they needed freshening before Sunday.”

“Since when is that your job?”

“Since I realized that nobody else was going to do it.”

He looked skeptical, but he didn’t grab me by the collar and demand to know what was going on.

Teddy began to tell her father about the latest installment of the movie. “Do brain parasites worry about right and wrong?” she asked in finale.

Teddy to the rescue. I kissed Ed’s cheek before I got the church keys out of our basket. Now I knew he wasn’t going to think about me for some time. Deena looked like she was chewing on something other than pancakes, and I hoped that while I was gone, she would finally tell her dad she was sorry. That would take up some time, too.

I got out of the house right at nine and cut through the yard, crossed a small road, then wove my way through the parish house parking lot. So far, so good.

Lucy was not waiting in front of the church. This was
not
good. We had set this up carefully. She was supposed to be here right now, if not a few minutes ago. But a scan of the street and the sidewalks wasn’t encouraging. No Lucy on the way, either.

“Lucy! You have some ’splaining to do!”

I unlocked the church and left the door ajar behind me so Lucy would come in the moment she arrived. I checked my watch. It was five minutes after. I was guessing that in about ten minutes, all hell might break loose.

“C’mon, Luce!” I went down to the front, pulled my cell phone from between cushions on the front pew, and punched in her number. I got voice mail and told her to get moving. Yesterday when I had hidden the phone, I hadn’t just been here talking to Esther. I’d also been upstairs making sure a fresh ninety-minute tape was in the recorder in the choir loft. Our audio guy tapes Ed’s sermons through our sound system every Sunday so they can be delivered to shut-ins or people who sleep in on Sunday and still want to know what’s been said from the pulpit. Lucy was supposed to be up in the loft right now, hidden but ready to start the recorder when it was needed.

I debated what to do. I could call this off and find another way to get the information I needed. Or I could run upstairs, turn on the tape and still have plenty of time left for what I needed to do. The tape would still catch what I hoped it might. The only difference was that I wouldn’t have immediate backup if things got tough.

I ran up to the choir loft. Even I knew how to punch Play and Record at the same time to get it started, plus there were neatly typed directions for the weeks a different volunteer took on the task. I made sure the tape was running, then ran back downstairs and turned on the microphone. Lucy still hadn’t arrived, but one glance at my watch told me somebody else would probably be here shortly. Once I was no longer alone, Lucy would be too smart to come into the church, but I hoped she would wait in the foyer.

I had just enough time to make the phone call I’d been planning.

I pulled out the business card in my pocket and punched in a number. Unfortunately I got voice mail. Since my first message late last night had been pointed enough, I was almost sure the recipient would be here on time, unless he was out of town.

Now there was nothing for me to do except look busy.

I was pulling wilting flowers out of one of two arrangements when I heard footsteps in the aisle beyond me. For a moment I didn’t react, as if I were so absorbed I hadn’t heard anyone. Then, after a few seconds, I stopped and glanced up. Casual all the way.

“Veronica.” I checked my watch, as if her unexpected appearance had rattled me. “I thought you were coming to my house. I was just getting ready to meet you over there.”

“I got there a little early. Your husband said I’d find you here.”

After working so closely with her, I knew a few things for sure about Veronica Hayworth. One was that she was always early. I’d banked on this result, and I hadn’t been wrong. I would have patted myself on the back had it been anatomically possible to do it gracefully, and if it wouldn’t have been such a giveaway.

I put the discarded flowers to one side and started down to meet her. She wore wide-leg white pants and a short-sleeved black jacket buttoned to the neck. A fringed white purse was strung over one shoulder. She looked crisp, cool, and unruffled. I hoped that would change.

“Shall we go back to my house?” I tried to look worried, and I’m sure I succeeded, since that part, at least, was true. “We could sit, have a cup of coffee.”

“I’m in kind of a hurry. I’d better say no.”

We joined up at the piano, again exactly what I’d hoped for. She stood with her back to the pews, facing the piano and me. I was angled a bit so I could see down the aisles if I had dared a glance. I didn’t. I had to focus on Veronica, and I didn’t want her to think I was expecting anyone else.

“How was your trip?” I asked.

“Blessedly short. Now I have a lot to do for the service this afternoon.”

“It’s going to be an emotional day. I’m sorry you’re having to do all the work, when you were so close to Grady.”

“Yes. Well. Somebody had to organize it. Your message said you had something we might want to add? Readings maybe?” She looked just the tiniest bit skeptical.

“Not readings, exactly. Just an idea.” I sat on the bench. I’d made sure the fallboard was flipped up so the keys were exposed. Now, without saying anything else, I started to pick out a tune. Not exactly one-fingered. I’m no musician, but I did have that one intensive summer of piano lessons. Although no one will ever ask me to sing in the church choir, my ear’s not too bad. I only made the occasional mistake.

“It’s such a wonderful song,” I said, plunking keys. “ ‘Sailing toward a Rainbow.’ Whose idea was the title? Yours or Grady’s?”

“Aggie, I’ve got a million things to do before the service.”

“Okay. Here’s my idea. I think
you
should sing this song today. After all, you helped Grady write it. Nobody could do it with more feeling, Veronica. Even if the last time you sang it, things didn’t exactly work out.”

Her expression didn’t change. I had to give Veronica credit. She was a good actress. I wondered how many years it had taken to learn how to hide her feelings this well. How many people had she fooled in the course of those years? Had she ever trusted anybody enough to bare her soul? I doubted it.

“I’m not going to sing anything,” she said evenly. “We have everything worked out already.”

“Then maybe one of the other songs you wrote? Did you write any of the rest of them
with
Grady? Or were they all just your own creation, even ‘Rainbow’? Or this . . .” I began to pick out the melody to “Remember Me in April.”

“I don’t think he had a hand in this one,” I said. “Not in writing it, although, of course, he took full credit again.”

Her tone was polite, even if the words were not. “I really don’t have time for games. What point are you trying to make?”

I was warmed up now, and the butterflies in my stomach had settled. Now that I’d started, all I could do was forge ahead.