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Authors: Darlene Franklin

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BOOK: Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder
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A few people applauded. Most were anxious to receive the first clue.

“Now for the first clue. All of our clues are derived from the book of Proverbs in the Bible. We have chosen the twenty-first verse of the first chapter for our first clue. It says: ‘In the head of the noisy streets she cries out, in the gateways of the city she makes her speech.’ Now go, and may Wisdom be with you.”

People moved in the direction of the town library en masse.

A wailing made itself heard over the excited chatter. A wailing that insisted people move to one side of the street or the other to let the town’s one fire engine through.

The fire engine headed in the direction of the Center for the Arts.

 

 

 

2

 

The increasing clamor from “boomers” wanting to open Indian Territory to white settlement garnered the attention of Congress. President Benjamin Harrison signed the Indian Appropriations Bill into law in 1889, and the first land run, popularized in movies such as
Cimarron
, took place on April 22, 1889. Grace Gulch was settled during the less well known 1891 run. Bob Grace arrived at the gulch first, followed seconds later by Dick Gaynor. (See “The Run for Grace Gulch,”
Grace Gulch Herald,
centennial edition.)

From
A History of Grace Gulch

 

Tuesday, September 12

Fire
.

No one moved for a few seconds. They remained frozen in place, standing on tiptoe and craning their necks for the best view.

Audie and I looked west, toward the MGM and the arts complex. His fingers tightened on my arms. Tendrils of red and gold flames danced against an azure sky.

“That’s not the MGM.” Relief relaxed his handhold on my arm and color returned to his face. “It’s close, though. What else is out that way?”

“Brad’s studio!” Jenna breathed his name before I could search my memory. He had set up shop about a block away from the site where he would paint the mural. Her face blanched.

“I’ve got to go.” Audie the Center director, Audie my knight in shining armor, had to check on his charge. “In case it spreads. But you stay here. We don’t want our girl breathing smoke.”

Everyone else decided to move at the same time. People to the east of me prodded their way through, chasing the fire engine. People on the west pushed back, wanting to register for the treasure hunt at the library. I felt like a tiny ant about to be crushed under the heavy feet of humanity.

“The store.” Jenna tugged at my arm.

I fumbled with my key and opened the door. Jenna darted ahead of me. “This way.” She headed through the showroom and into the back storage area. When I didn’t immediately follow, she paused. “You don’t really intend to stay put, do you? We’ve got to find out what’s happening with Brad.”

“No.” Wherever Jenna led, I tended to follow. It had been a long time since the Wilde sisters saw any action.

“We can get there more quickly if we avoid the main street.” Jenna opened the back door and helped me down the steps.

A few other people had the same idea, but the back way was much less packed. Junior kicked again, and my feet complained. “If we’re walking down there, I’d better change my shoes. It won’t take a sec.” I exchanged the heels I wore to work for the slip-ons that seemed to be my only pair of comfortable shoes these days. I didn’t want to trip over my own two feet and cause another ruckus. I looked longingly at my SUV. I missed my old car, but with a baby on the way and the demands of my business, we had invested in a larger vehicle. With the traffic downtown today, I couldn’t park within three blocks of the fire. Might as well walk.

Jenna set a brisk pace, too fast for us to talk. She squeezed through spaces that Junior and I couldn’t manage. I waddled as fast as I could. Sweat dripped in my eyes. I wiped it away with an already soggy handkerchief.
Why didn’t I grab a bottle of water while we were in the store?
She surged ahead, always a few feet in front of me, impatient with any delay. “Go ahead without me,” I suggested, not that she was listening. I couldn’t blame her for worrying. The museum was as much her responsibility as it was Audie’s. So why did I sense that her concern lay with the fate of the man missing from the morning’s news conference, and not the building? Aside from the fact that human life was more precious than things, any day of the week.

The closer we drew to the fire, the stronger the scent of charcoal and mesquite barbecue grew. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the imposing structure of the MGM with the newly-constructed museum next door. But where was Audie? The firefighters must have stopped the flames before they spread. Jenna flicked a glance in that direction and then continued trotting toward the smoke.

“There he is!” I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted my husband. He stood with a small group of onlookers, the mayor, Dina, of course, snapping pictures of the charred remains of Brad’s studio.

Audie frowned when he saw me. I could hear his question. Why didn’t you stay behind like I asked you to?

I just tagged along behind Jenna
,
I replied silently.

“I had to find out what happened,” Jenna explained. “The museum is as much my responsibility as it is yours.” She turned her attention to the smoldering ruins of the studio. “It looks like everything’s gone.”

That wasn’t quite true. The foundation remained intact, and a few studs still stood. But it looked like an outdoor theater or a house with glass walls. We could see everything inside, a scattering of soggy black ash. A burned smell permeated the air, resurrecting the nausea I felt earlier in my pregnancy. Junior somersaulted, letting me know he didn’t like it either.

Dina darted around the building, fingers snapping pictures as fast as they could move. Behind
,
an unexpected figure emerged: Dr. Barber, who served as the town coroner. Two firefighters lagged behind him, toting a body bag between them.

A wave of heat that had nothing to do with smoldering embers swept over me, and I bent over, ready to regurgitate the iced coffee I had drunk earlier. I stumbled, in spite of my sensible slip-on shoes. Audie caught me.

I heard Jenna cry “Brad!” as I slipped into unconsciousness.

~

Blessed cool air. Needle in my arm, injecting me with something equally soothing. Soft voices. I opened my eyes and saw cold steel bars staring back at me. I was on a bed in our local clinic.

The events of the morning rushed back into my memory. The routine news conference—routine, that is, until the fire started. Jenna’s and my mad dash to reach the scene.
The body.
I sighed and turned onto my back.

“Mrs. Howe?” Dr. Johnson, my lifelong family doctor, bent over me.

“What happened? What am I doing here?”

“You got a little dehydrated, dear. I see that you drank iced coffee. Tsk, tsk. Coffee is a diuretic, you know. You should avoid it as much as possible. All that caffeine isn’t good for you or the baby. Much better to stick with water.”

I had heard his lecture before, but I didn’t think one cup of the real stuff a day would hurt. After today, I might change my habits.

“You should be ready to leave as soon as we top you up.” He nodded at the half-empty bag of saline solution dangling from an IV pole.

“Where’s everyone else?” As concerned as Audie had been all through my pregnancy, I was a bit surprised not to find him at the foot of the bed, rubbing my still-sore feet. Not that I could see my feet over Junior. Maybe he doesn’t like my lingerie
.
I giggled. I didn’t much like the johnny gown either. It didn’t tie around the back anymore. Vintage hospital clothing, now that’s something I’ve never researched
.

“He said he was taking care of a few things, but that he would be back by the time you were ready to leave. Rest some more. You won’t get as good a chance after your baby is born.”

I shut my eyes. The cool liquid in my veins did feel good. I drifted through that half-waking state where every thought took on the tenuous feeling of dreams. Who was in the body bag? Brad? Who else could it be? What caused the fire? I knew that turpentine caught fire easily, but artist studios didn’t usually burn to the ground.

Don’t go there. The fact that I had successfully hunted down two murderers didn’t mean every bad thing such as this one that had happened resulted from malicious intent. I hoped, prayed, that Brad was still alive. That I was mistaken about the meaning of the body bag.

Whatever had happened, Audie and Jenna faced a challenge. Brad’s mural was the first big project they had overseen at the new Center for the Arts. Without the artist, could it even be finished? His copious notes about the mural had burned to ashes. Probably, we had also lost Larry Grace’s journal, his primary source for the mural. At least the winning design remained in Audie’s custody.

Agitation replaced the cool, soothing calm I had felt minutes before. I didn’t want to think about the fire any more. The treasure hunt was a more pleasant topic. I looked forward to the people who would stop by to ask for the Grace Garland. How many of the excited treasure hunters would figure out the clues? The planning committee had agonized over making them difficult, but not impossible to figure out. Who were likely candidates?

All members of the Grace Gulch Chamber of Commerce had eliminated themselves from competition. Too many of us knew the clues. I wondered if Frances Waller would take part. Frances
Grace
, I reminded myself. The newly married police officer detected for a living, after all. I knew my good friend Suzanne Jay intended to join the hunt. Noah Brodie planned to register a team of college students. Newcomers Wilbert and Dustin Murk might sign up. They had jumped into several community activities with both feet. No, they couldn’t. Dustin had joined the Chamber of Commerce and her honey business thrived. Wilbert’s smithy drew as much business as he could handle.

Who else? Enid Waldberg’s presence at the press conference yesterday surprised me. Would the pastor let his wife participate? Perhaps so. She had shown surprising depths ever since her starring turn as Abby Brewster in
Arsenic and Old Lace
. We had recruited her to play the part after the murder of the original actress, Magda Grace Mallory.

Yes, I should have a lot of fun, helping the treasure hunters along. I almost wished I could take part myself. What if no one finished the hunt before I had the baby? Doubtful. People would figure out the four clues before six weeks had passed.

I drifted into sleep, visions of the Grace Garland hanging around Enid’s neck.

When I opened my eyes again, Jenna stood there.

“I asked Dina to give us a few minutes alone,” Jenna said. She held the paisley hat in her hands, twirling it around her finger. If she kept up at that rate, it would unravel. I remembered her reaction to the body bag, and she didn’t have the excuse of late pregnancy to explain her behavior.

“Tell me about Brad.”

“Oh, Cici.” Tears formed in her hazel eyes, so that they sparkled with gold highlights.

Dr. Johnson returned at that moment. I noticed that the saline bag had emptied.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. Thank you.”

“You’re ready to go. Just remember. . .” He repeated his instructions and handed me a sheet of paper with the same information. Enough, already. “Not long now.” He patted my hand and left.

His nurse removed the IV from my arm and stopped the bleeding with a cotton ball. A cartoon character decorated the Band-Aid she added. I groaned. “I’m an adult.”

“You’re a mommy-in-training,” she corrected. “Get ready for years of cartoons.”

I wondered where my husband had disappeared to. My little episode wasn’t serious, but he usually attended to my every need. So now that I had actually passed out, where had he gone? What more urgent matter did he have to take care of?

In the mean time, I wanted to get into real clothes again. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and waited for Jenna to continue her conversation.

“We’ll talk later,” Jenna promised. She scooted a chair next to me and helped me with my slip-ons. “I remember how hard it was to put on shoes.”

We ignored the nylons; who cared if someone saw my bare legs? She helped me fasten my undergarments. I refused her help in buttoning the blouse. I could still reach my
front.
We tugged the jumper over my head. The belt had halted half way to where my waistline used to be. I adjusted it and she tied a bow in the back.

“Anything else?”

Only Audie.

“Where’s my wife?”

I confess my insides turned into jelly when I heard his voice. When had I become so dependent on the man? I didn’t mind. The way we cared for one another constituted some of the best of marriage.

He rushed through the door in a blast of hot air and spicy cologne. He took my face between his hands and kissed me. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

If you were so scared, why did you leave me here alone?

That’s when I noticed the person hovering behind my husband. I recognized that petite frame, blonde hair turned pale silver, back as straight as a soldier.

“It’s a blessing Mother decided to fly in for a visit. Good news. She’s arranged to stay until the baby is born.”

I managed a weak smile at the woman with more military command than our local police chief. My mother-in-law.

“It’s good to see you, Gilda.”

 

 

BOOK: Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder
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