Bad Reputation, A (15 page)

This was exactly what I thought about Jerry. “So Mike was a swindler? A con man? How did you two meet?”

“I may not look like it now, but I used to model. Not professionally, but for some of the larger stores in Parkland. In my day I was quite alluring. Mike came to one of the fashion shows with some of his friends. We hit it off. Then I found out what kind of man he was. He wouldn't change, so we ended the relationship.”

“He never asked for the ring back?”

“No. I haven't had any contact with him whatsoever. And I want to keep it that way, Madeline. I don't know why you're so interested in my personal life all of a sudden.”

“My apologies. It's my job to ask questions, and sometimes I forget I'm being too nosy. Let me ask you about Bea. Did you know about her claim that her son was Wendall's child?”

“I don't think she had any proof of that.”

“Let's say she did. Would Wendall have acknowledged the boy?”

“I don't know. Could Bea have killed him because he wouldn't do that?”

But why get rid of the father you wanted your son to have? Wendall didn't have to say, yes, this is my boy. There were millions of dads who never had anything to do with their children. I could only surmise that Bea wanted child support, and Wendall had said, “That's not going to happen.” Besides, Ferris was a grown man. He had accepted the other man as a father, and didn't appear to be dependent on his mother. He didn't need Wendall's money.

I thanked Pamela for her time and left. So Honor had told the truth when she said Pamela and Big Mike had a fling. But if the ring was that important, wouldn't he have found Pamela and demanded it back? Why send Honor after the ring? Or maybe Honor wanted the ring and was hoping Jerry would find it for her.

Now you're thinking like a real con artist, I told myself. Here you are, hoping to reform your husband, and his lifestyle is rubbing off on you. One thing was certain. Honor was trying her best to involve Jerry in something illegal, and I was not going to let that happen. Not for him and not for me.

Chapter Sixteen

I called to let Jerry know I was stopping by my office to check the mail before picking him up. I had a rude surprise when I unlocked my door. The side window was smashed and a chunk of brick lay on the carpet surrounded by shards of glass. A quick look around assured me this was the only damage, and nothing had been stolen. I went outside and around to the window, but there were no footprints or any clues. Some random act of vandalism, or a warning to back off the case?

I gave Jerry another call to let him know what had happened. Then I called the police. I thought they'd send an officer, but Chief Brenner came over.

He surveyed the scene. “Well, someone doesn't want you involved in Clarke's murder investigation. Anything missing?”

“No.”

“Leave everything right there. I'll have a word with the neighbors.”

I sat down at my desk and glared at the brick, wishing it could tell me who was running around town smashing windows. Then I got up for a better look. I'd seen the bricks in Bea's yard. This one was different. Bea's bricks were old red bricks with worn edges. The one on my carpet was new and pink, and its edges were sharp.

Chief Brenner came in as I bent over the brick, frowning. “So it won't talk, eh?”

I straightened. “I thought this might have come from Bea's yard, but it's not the same color.”

He used his pen to push the brick over and examined it from all sides. “We'll dust it and see. Were you here when this happened?”

“No, I stopped by to check my mail.”

“The folks next door didn't see or hear anything unusual. Everyone else in the building must have gone home at five, but I'll talk to them.”

“Thanks for coming over.”

He took out his camera and snapped pictures of the damage. “You caught me just in time. I was heading over to Parkland's crime lab to see if they had anything for me. Do you have anything?”

I didn't want to tell him Jerry and I had spent the afternoon breaking and entering. “I've talked with Larissa and Pamela. Were you aware Bea thought Wendall was the father of her child?”

“How likely is that?”

“Extremely unlikely. Even her son doesn't believe it.”

“All right, I'll follow that up, but we're working on this case from a different angle. Seems one of Wendall's business competitors made some threats last month. We're looking into that.”

I thought with a town full of angry artists, this line of inquiry was extremely unlikely, too. “Between the two of us, we ought to come up with something.”

He motioned to the broken glass. “I'm not so sure you should be on this case, Madeline. The next brick might be aimed at your head. Are you on your way home? Where's Jerry?”

“I'm picking him up at the theater.”

“If I were you, I wouldn't go anywhere alone until this is settled.”

It was going to take more than a brick through my window to keep me from solving this case.

***

When I arrived at the theater, the cast was romping through “Kansas City.” They looked like they were having fun, except for Bea, who stood scowling, arms folded, as if the cowboys and ranchers had purposely torn up her tater patch with their wild dancing. It was difficult to imagine this angry little woman creating such amazing jewelry. It was not difficult to imagine her running around town heaving bricks at windows.

When the song ended, I leaned over the edge of the orchestra pit. “Is Aunt Eller supposed to be annoyed by all the frivolity?”

“This Aunt Eller is annoyed by everything. Are you okay? Is the office a mess?”

“I'm fine, and it was only one broken window. But the brick was an alien brick. Tell you about it later.”

Evan asked for one more round of the dance number. I sat down to watch. Jerry played so well, it was a shame theater paid about the same as art, which was practically nothing. If the arts were as revered as sports, we'd have no trouble making a living. I'd thought about asking Chief Brenner if he needed a reformed con man on the force to help catch other con men, the way some police departments hired former art forgers to expose fake paintings. But Celosia was too small, and there weren't any other con artists, except Jerry's dubious friends. Maybe he'd have some luck with his job interviews.

Rehearsal ended, and Jerry came up out of the pit. “Be right there, Mac. I need to pick up a few things.”

Bea saw me, but didn't come over to talk. I chatted briefly with the young woman who was playing Laurie. She'd been a contestant in the Miss Celosia Pageant, the pageant that had led to my first murder case in town.

“Guess you didn't ever think you'd have this much to do in Celosia, did you, Madeline? Are you helping out with the murder at the art gallery?”

I told her yes, I was, but since she was too young to have gone to school with Wendall and wasn't too concerned, she soon changed the subject to
Oklahoma
and talked about the play until Jerry returned and she waved good-bye. Jerry had a paper shopping bag.

“Stuff I need to look through for the orchestra,” he said. “We've decided to dress like cowboys, too.”

“Jerry Fairweather and His Rootin' Tootin' Cowboy Band?”

“Right now we're the Tumbleweed Quintet. I'm looking for a few more people to join us. There's a violin part.” He grinned and arched his eyebrows.

“Keep looking.”

We started up the aisle and he asked, “Now what did you mean about an alien brick?”

“You know what the bricks in Bea's yard look like? This one was different.”

“Maybe she's expanding her brickyard.”

“Maybe she didn't do it. Hasn't she been here all night?”

“Yes. Are you saying someone's trying to frame her? Why break your window?”

“I don't know. But it was definitely a warning.”

***

On the drive home, I told Jerry about finding the ring. “Pamela has the pink sapphire stuck in one of her collages.”

“Will it come off?”

“Do you honestly think if I get it, Honor will give it to Big Mike? I think she wants it for herself. The only way to ruin her game is to get Big Mike and Pamela together. Can you get him here, or do the two of you have issues?”

“Big Mike and I settled our differences a long time ago. He told me I was like the little brother he never had.”

“Not the son he never had?”

“Big Mike is big, but he's not that old.”

“Well, call him up, or light the bat signal, or whatever it is you do in Con World.”

Jerry looked doubtful. “That could be a little tricky. He likes to keep a low profile.”

“But not beyond your skills.”

“I'll see what I can do. I've also been wondering if she really does owe him anything. He was usually an easy-going guy.”

At home, Jerry said he was hungry again, so he made a grilled cheese sandwich. For once, the smells of bread and cheese smelled good, and I asked him to make me one.

“I need a snack before I go to the séance.”

He took two more slices of bread from the package. “Well, have fun. I'm going to practice. Want me to wait up for you?”

“Don't you want to hear all the details?”

“I can tell you how it's going to go. Honor will do a pitiful impersonation of a medium, nowhere near as good as me. Aunt Louise will kick her out of the house, and Honor's reputation as a medium will be ruined forever. The end.”

“Ruined enough to make her leave town?”

“She'll probably come up with something else, but we'll see.”

***

Aunt Louise wasn't thrilled to see me, but since I'd left Jerry at home, she grudgingly agreed to let me in on the séance. Inside her house, many cats scattered out of my way, except for a large gray one that followed me into the living room. When I joined Aunt Louise and Annie at the séance table, Honor smiled and welcomed me to the circle. She didn't seem the least bit disconcerted, but as Jerry had just mentioned about his own con career, she was playing a part.

“Another seeker of truth.”

“How true,” I said. Under the table, the cat bit my knee. “Ow.”

“Sydney, no,” Annie said. “Sorry, Madeline. He's just saying hello.”

Hello to my foot, Sydney. I pushed him away.

“Please take hands.”

Honor lit a candle in the center of the table and grasped hands with Aunt Louise and Annie. I reached around to grasp their outstretched hands, still fending off Sydney's attempts to chew my knee. “Spirits of the other world, we entreat you to find the soul of Gloria. We ask that you bring her across to answer questions only she can answer.”

Jerry was right. Her act was not as convincing as his, but Aunt Louise was buying it.

“We do not wish to disturb the cosmic ether, but there are matters of great importance we must discuss with the dearly departed Gloria. Come to us. Come.”

Honor had been chanting with her eyes closed, but a strange scratchy noise made her open her eyes. I thought Sydney was using the table leg for a scratching post. Then Honor's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she gave a strangled squeak.

I turned to see what had caused this reaction. Honor stared beyond me. A woman's figure all in black stood at the front window, features hidden by a black veil. A mournful cracked voice spoke.

“Loooouise. Loooouise. How dare you doubt me?”

Sydney streaked from the room. Aunt Louise gave a scream and fell over backwards. As Annie and I scrambled to help her up, the figure raised a trembling hand and pointed at Honor. “And death to this woman who dares summon me!”

Honor stood as if paralyzed.

Annie's face was white and she was shaking. “It's okay,” I said. “Stay with your aunt.”

I ran out and around the house, but there was no sign of the ghostly figure. I had to admit it had given me a start. My heart was still pounding when I went back inside. The lights were on, the candle was out, and Honor was gathering her things as fast as she could.

Annie was patting Aunt Louise on the back. “It's all right, she's gone.” Aunt Louise was still gasping for breath. “I'm calling 9-1-1.”

Aunt Louise waved her away. “No, no. Don't call anyone. I'm fine. Get me my root beer.”

“That was really impressive,” I told Honor. “Too bad she cursed you.”

Her voice was shaking. “I don't know how he did it.”

“Did what? You think Jerry was behind this? Go outside and look for yourself. There's no way he could've gotten to the house. We have only one car, and I drove it here.”

“Then he got someone else to bring him.”

“Wouldn't we have heard another car?”

She charged out and went around the house. I followed, also looking for any signs of my wayward husband, but there was nothing. Knowing his talent as a second-story man, I even looked up on the roof.

“I'm starting to think Aunt Gloria did come back from the grave,” I said. “Wait till word gets around. You'll be able to hold as many séances as you like.”

And then I realized Honor's voice was shaking from laughter. “Oh, he's good. He's really good. You should be so proud, Madeline.”

“You honestly think Jerry's behind this? How?”

“Oh, we have our secrets. Too bad you're not in the club. I'd better scoot before Aunt Louise gets wise. See ya.” She got in her car, and drove away.

Too bad I'm not in the club? I knew this was Honor's not so subtle way of saying she and Jerry had a special connection. She was trying so hard to hang onto him. There was something more to their relationship, something Honor imagined, anyway.

I went inside to check on Aunt Louise. She was swilling down her second bottle of root beer.

“Where is that awful woman?” she demanded. “What was she thinking?”

“But you wanted to talk to Aunt Gloria,” Annie said.

“Not like that! I nearly had a spasm! Madeline, you tell Jerry I want him back. At least he didn't frighten me half to death.”

Oh, I think he may have already, I wanted to say.

***

But when I got home, Jerry was on the couch eating cookies and watching TV. He took the remote and muted the sound. “Oh, hi. How'd it go?”

I sat down beside him. “Honor is a fabulous medium. Do you know she was able to call up Aunt Gloria? We all saw her.”

“Must have been scary.”

“Honor thought so.”

“Well, it's not wise to rile the dead. How did Aunt Louise take it?”

“She almost had a heart attack.”

“Gee, that's too bad.”

I looked right into his eyes. “How did you do it, Jerry?”

“Do what?”

I'm always amazed by how innocent he can appear. “I don't believe in ghosts, and I certainly don't believe Honor set this up. For a moment, she was truly frightened.”

“I happen to know she's a bit superstitious. Maybe the spirit world was trying to tell her something.”

“Jerry—”

“Do I look anything like Aunt Gloria?”

“Not now.”

“And I just magically got myself to Aunt Louise's house and back before you got home?”

That part had me stumped.

Jerry offered me a cookie. “Whatever happened, let's hope Honor got the message.”

“Look, if the two of you are going to play horrible jokes on each other, leave me out of it. I have a case to solve.” My ghostbusting had made me hungry, so I ate one cookie and asked for another. “These are good. Did you make them?”

“I've been practicing the piano and making cookies all evening. You have to admit that is an iron-clad alibi.”

“For most people, yes.”

“And assisting with your investigation. I got a hold of Big Mike. He said he'll stop by one day this week.”

“Did he have anything to say about Honor or Pamela?”

“We didn't discuss details on the phone. He'd rather talk to you directly.”