Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder (3 page)

3

More settlers arrived within minutes: Wallace Wilde; Kenneth Kirkendall; Ned Waller; and the intrepid Maisie Mallory, the only woman to stake a claim in the Gulch. With the exception of Kenneth Kirkendall, all of the original settlers of Grace Gulch have descendents living in the town today.

From
A History of Grace Gulch

Tuesday, September 12

Gilda strode toward me like royalty, in spite of the three-inch stiletto heels. I didn’t know how she managed. I wasn’t that graceful in heels even when I wasn’t seven and a half months pregnant. She wore a jacket and skirt that would have done well in an exhibit of vintage clothing from the ’70s. She always dressed the same, without regard to Chicago blizzards or 100-degree Oklahoma summers.

I was glad I had exchanged the hospital gown for my jumper before her arrival, but wished I had put on my pantyhose after all.

“I rented a car at the airport and drove down that delightful Route 66. I’ll have to drive it all the way from Illinois some time. I called Audie when I reached Arcadia. I’m sorry I didn’t call before I left. It was a spur of the moment decision. You did say to come back any time. And I know how difficult these last weeks can be.”

So my husband had disappeared to the house to prepare for his mother’s arrival. A good thing, since she tended to give my housekeeping a white-glove inspection. It wouldn’t be his fault if Gilda rearranged the kitchen before supper.

The import of Audie’s words only now registered. She’s arranged to stay until the baby is born.
What were they thinking? How would I survive six weeks with the woman who made me feel like second best for her only son?

“You’ve been missing your mother.” Audie’s hand slid around my shoulders and walked with me toward the door. “No one can take her place, I know, but I thought Mother. . .” Joy twinkled in his blue eyes.

He thinks he’s giving me the best present of my life.

“Of course.”

Audie opened the passenger door for me. Jenna hugged Gilda in welcome. She didn’t respond in kind.

I looked out the car window at my sister. She covered up her worry with a practiced smile for the doctor and Audie, but I could see the turmoil beneath the shell. “Later.” I mouthed the word at her.

Audie drove me to the house and we ate a simple lunch. Gilda had already set up sandwich ingredients, deli-style.

During the meal, I asked the question that was on my mind. “Is Brad dead?”

Audie shrugged. “I assume so. I saw the body, but I didn’t get close. Who else would it be?”

Who else indeed. Unexpected death had again struck Grace Gulch.

After eating, I insisted I was ready to return to work. Enid Waldberg had covered for me while I was at the clinic. “I feel fine,” I insisted. “Enid’s got other things to do. I don’t like imposing on her.” The pastor’s wife had already agreed to run the store while I took maternity leave.

Not many people came by the store that afternoon. Perhaps the somber event of the fire had drained the electric excitement of the morning. Was Brad truly dead? I shuddered. I couldn’t imagine a worse way to die. I remembered Jenna’s reaction, and hoped she would come by soon so we could talk. If she didn’t come of her own accord, I would call.

I took advantage of the quiet to consider a new display for the store. Whatever I did next might remain in place until after I had the baby. I wanted something from the ’60s—an era partial to me in recent months for providing so many wonderful vintage maternity outfits—but how could I capture the craziness of those years? What Oklahoma woman epitomized the times?

My research unearthed few Oklahomans involved in the anti-war movement and radical feminism. After all, my state buckled the Bible belt. My customers would appreciate our more conservative heroines. Maria Tallchief, a native Oklahoman, led the New York City ballet until her retirement in 1965. Lee Troup Johnson grew to prominence in equestrian events in that decade. Both of them were classy, strong ladies. I didn’t carry vintage riding gear or tutus, but I could feature some Kennedy-esque outfits.

What few people with enough energy to venture out in the oppressive heat were probably hunting down the first clue. Where would they start? Noise? Streets? Gates? We hoped the challenge would engage the questors for several days.

I was considering closing the store early when Jenna popped in.

“I’m surprised to see you here, after your fainting spell.” Jenna grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “But I’m glad I caught you.”

“Come in. We need to talk.” I set out the
ring bell for service
card by the cash register and walked into my office. I settled into my desk chair, the only remaining comfortable seat for me in the store. Jenna hunched over on a metal folding chair. I dug in my desk drawer for a box of tissues. I suspected we would need them.

“Now, tell me about Brad. The way you talk about him, it’s clear you two have a history.”
Had
a history. Had the fire victim’s identity been released? How could I have forgotten the tragedy?

Tears welled up in Jenna’s eyes. “I can’t believe he’s
dead
.”

“Are you sure? It might have been someone else.”

“In his studio? Who else could it be? No one has seen him since last night. I’m
sure
it was Brad.” Quiet tears escaped in spite of Jenna’s best efforts to hold them in.

I didn’t have a clue why Brad’s death upset her so personally, but we could get to that later. I pushed the box of tissues at my sister and rolled my chair around the corner of the desk. She reached out blindly, her arms cradling my neck. I held her in wordless empathy. She cried tears of soundless grief, no need for words. Her sorrow spoke volumes.

Junior changed positions and Jenna yelped, the first sound she had made in several minutes. “What was that?”

“Junior’s elbow, I think.”

“Junior. You and Audie. Haven’t you decided on a name yet? It’s your baby.” She started crying again, this time in loud sobs. “Your baby. You have Audie and I’ve lost. . .”

I waited for Jenna to finish her statement. She’s lost what? Whom? Brad?
She was talking now, incoherent word fragments, the kind of cry that only the Holy Spirit can interpret and carry straight to the Father’s ear.
God, help me here. I need Your wisdom to comfort her. Especially since I didn’t know she cared about Brad.

I held Jenna and said those trite phrases that come to mind in times like this. “There, there, it’s going to be all right.” I sounded like I was talking to a child. “I’m here for you.” That was a little more adult. I held her until Junior shifted positions again, this time straight on my bladder.

Jenna sobs lessened but she didn’t move. I lifted my head from where it lay on her shoulder. “Would you like some tea?”

She nodded. I poured us each a glass of mint iced tea while she mopped up the damage done to her face. We sipped our drinks in silence while Jenna regained control of herself.

At last, in a voice near a whisper, she began. “You remember the summer I went to art camp? With Noah and Finella?”

Did I ever. Jenna had gone wild her freshman year in high school. Mom and Dad didn’t know what to do with her. When her art teacher offered to sponsor the three friends—aka the Three Musketeers—at a camp for promising artisans, my parents jumped at the chance. They hoped it would give her a sense of purpose and direction, help her settle down. Finella’s presence decided them. Noah had been almost as wild as Jenna, but Finella had a good head on her shoulders.

The camp didn’t exactly accomplish what our parents had hoped. By the time Jenna returned, she was three weeks pregnant. But I wasn’t going to bring that up unless she did. Instead I said, “Of course. I was never so lonely in my life.”

“Tell me another story. You spent every day over at the Circle G with Cord.”

That was true. At nine years old, I worked hard at becoming the best cowgirl in Lincoln County. Of course at that age I also assumed I would grow up to become Mrs. Cord Grace. How dreams change.

“I suppose you tell Audie everything.”

I smiled and nodded. My dear husband, my own special dream come true. After Audie had almost ruined our wedding by keeping a big secret, we had both learned our lesson.

“I suppose there’s no help for it. The truth is, Brad was a junior counselor at the camp that summer. That is, he was a freshman at OCU but so obviously talented that his teacher recruited him as an aide.”

Brad. Camp. My mind whirled.

“I was smitten with him. Well, you’ve seen him, Cic. With those sultry green eyes and long blond curls. . .every girl at the camp was in love with him. He didn’t pay attention to any of them. Until he asked me,
me,
to model for him. You can imagine how I felt.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the rest of the story, a secret Jenna had kept for twenty-three years.

“Well, of course I agreed. I modeled for him, and he tutored me in oils, but it was clear I would never be on his level. Well, one thing led to another.”

The bell by the register rang in the silence, but I couldn’t leave just yet.

“That means …” I waited for her to spell it out.

“Brad Merriman is Dina’s father. Was Dina’s father. Oh, Cic, what am I going to do?”

My office door blew open.

“Brad Merriman is my father? And you never told me?”

Dina, the living offspring of that wild summer, stormed into the room.

4

One of the more interesting characters in Grace Gulch history is Larry Grace, Bob Grace’s brother. Larry never settled permanently in the Gulch but wandered through from time to time, scattering charm like sunshine. A bad reputation clung to the “black sheep” of the Grace family, but nothing illegal was ever proven during his brief stays in town.

Suspicions abounded. In the early days, people said Larry Grace was on the run from hanging Judge Isaac Parker in Ft. Smith, Arkansas. Later, after Grace Gulch enacted its own version of the infamous “bone dry” law (eight years earlier than the state did), he was suspected of selling bootleg liquor. But Larry Grace attained legendary status when he robbed a bank in oil-rich Tulsa.

From
A History of Grace Gulch

Tuesday, September 12

With my new knowledge, the usual resemblance between mother and daughter faded. Dina’s cheeks flamed red with anger; the color had totally drained from the rest of her face. Although they shared the same high forehead, generous mouth and perky nose, Dina’s cheeks and chin didn’t quite match Jenna’s. I tried to bring Brad’s face to mind, to trace its contours over Dina’s. I couldn’t. I didn’t know him well enough.

Jenna looked like she might fall down if I didn’t prop her up. On the other hand, I feared Dina might stop breathing. That’s how red her face was. Someone had to take charge of the situation.

“Sit.” I used my best big-sister voice and pulled out a chair for Dina.

“But. . .” Dina protested.

“Later. Catch your breath.”

Dina plopped onto the chair.

By the time I poured us each a fresh glass of tea and split a croissant between us, the color of both sisters’ faces had returned to normal.

I waited for Jenna to take the lead. After all, this was her story. At best, I might facilitate the discussion.

“Tell me—” Dina had waited long enough.

“I never—” Both began at the same time.

Dina drew a deep breath and blew it out. “You first.”

“I never meant for you to learn about your father this way.” Jenna looked at her fingers folded in her lap as if they might hold the secret to the problems she faced.

“Did you intend to
ever
tell me about my father?” Dina demanded.

Jenna colored. “I always intended to, but the time never seemed right.” She sighed. “I guess I was a coward. The only good thing to come out of those difficult days was
you
. I’d almost prefer to forget they ever happened.”

“You are certain Brad Merriman is my father?” Dina asked with clipped syllables unlike her normal speech.

Jenna’s face drained of color. Dina’s words had stung. “Yes. There was no one else.” Jenna stopped without further explanation.

“And you didn’t think I should know, before he showed up here in Grace Gulch? What if he had approached me and said, ‘Hey, kid, how you doing?’”

Jenna looked at Dina then, fire glinting in her eyes. “He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t. He never knew about you. I never told him.” The fire dimmed, replaced by a sheen of tears. “And now he’ll never know the beautiful girl he helped create. Oh, Dina, I’m so sorry!”

Dina blinked. “Oh, Brad’s not dead. At least not that I know of. That’s what I came to tell you.”

“Then who was it in the studio?” I asked.

“Brad’s girlfriend. Finella Gaynor.”

“Brad was dating
Finella
?” Jenna sounded genuinely surprised.

Dina nodded. “They’ve been seen together at the Gulch several times. I don’t know how serious it was. I’m checking into it.” A reporter’s enthusiasm infused her words.

That would have made Finella’s ex, Ham Gaynor, furious if he knew about it. Motive for murder? Stop it, I reminded myself. I couldn’t view every death as a potential homicide.

“So Brad never knew about me.” Dina had returned to the subject most important to her.

“No. I’m sure I was no more than a summer fling for him. I could tell he was going places, even then.” Jenna reached out a hand to trace Dina’s cheek. “Every time I look at you, I see him, you know. You have a lot of his spunk, his sensitivity, his zest for life.”

Dina snorted. “I’m no artist.”

“I beg to differ.” Jenna managed a small smile. “Your photos capture a lot more than a story. I have thought of displaying them in the museum, only I’d be accused of nepotism.”

“Really?” Dina drawled the word, stretching the two syllables into three. I wasn’t sure if she was expressing shock of disbelief.

“Now that you know—do you want me to tell Brad? To introduce you?”

Dina didn’t answer for a moment. “No one seems to know where he is. No one has seen him since last night.”

I remembered his surprising absence from the press conference.

Jenna’s eyebrows knit in frustration. “He’s
missing
? Oh, no.”

Her unease washed over me, and a nagging suspicion refused to let go. Junior kicked as if in sympathy. “Tell me. Do the police know how Finella died?”

Dina looked from me to Jenna and back again. “They’re not sure—but it looks like she died from a blow to her head.”

“Murder.” I breathed the word. “Again.”

“Brad!” Jenna cried.

Dina and I must have gaped at her, because she sputtered. “Don’t you see? Brad’s girlfriend—his studio—the police are bound to suspect he did it!”

~

Supper was already fixed when I arrived home. We didn’t have the chicken fried steak I had planned, of course, but I could live with Gilda’s version of home cooking.

My comfy dining room table looked foreign. Gilda had unearthed the linen tablecloth she had given us for a wedding present—unused in our two years of marriage—and set out my best china. Add candles and all we needed were wine glasses to make the setting perfect for the front cover of
Bon Apetit.
Alas, Audie and I didn’t partake of alcoholic beverages. All this, for a midweek dinner.

“Mother made deep-dish pizza. You’ll love it.”

I could buy it at the local pizza parlor. Stop being catty
.
I smiled my thanks and took a slice of the meat-heavy pie.

Tuesday nights used to mean heading over to the Crazy W, the family ranch, for a meal. Now we gathered only once a week, after church on Sunday. Sometimes we met for lunch during the week, now that both Dina and Jenna worked downtown as well. I said a prayer for my sisters as we settled down to the meal. Working through the secrets revealed today would not be easy.

When Audie turned his pizza crust end first, I followed his example. I took my first bite of the mozzarella-filed crust and sighed with contentment. The restaurant’s version of the specialty had bored me, but it tasted nothing like this. Gilda’s pizza deserved the china. How could I resent her presence? All she wanted was to make these last six weeks as easy as possible.

I forced myself to pause after two bites. Dr. Johnson had warned me not to overeat, and said I could avoid the trap by putting my fork down between bites. He must never have tasted pizza this good.

While I waited, Jenna’s revelations buzzed through my veins again. Should I wait until Audie and I were alone to share the news? I didn’t think I could. Excitement bubbled through my veins like hot lava, and I refused to let my mother-in-law’s presence in my home deter me from discussing the day’s events over the supper table. “Guess what I learned today.”

“What is it, dear?” Gilda turned her eyes, almost steely cadet blue in color, in my direction. “Did the doctor tell you the sex of the baby? Usually they can tell by this time.”

I refrained from reminding Gilda that Audie and I didn’t
want
to know our baby’s gender before his or her arrival.

“No. It’s about Jenna.”

“But she’s your
sister
. Surely you two don’t have secrets.” So spoke the woman who only gave birth to one child. Maybe she had an older sister; I wasn’t sure.

Audie arched an eyebrow. I knew he shared my amusement at his mother’s remark. Given the fact that Jenna was five years older than me and left Grace Gulch as soon as she finished high school, she had done a lot of things I knew nothing about.

“What is it?” Audie asked. I appreciated his restraint in not asking,
So what did she do this time?

“Brad Merriman is Dina’s father.” The words ran together as I blurted them out.

“What did you say, dear?”

I didn’t blame Gilda for not understanding.

“Brad Merr—you mean, the
artist
Brad Merriman?” Nothing less than this bombshell could have stopped Audie in mid-slice.

“The very same. No wonder Jenna was shocked when she learned which artist submitted the winning mural.”

“The painter is Dina’s father?” Gilda was still working out what I had said. She knew the bare bones of the story. Our family had never kept it a secret.

I nodded and took a couple of bites of pizza. I had earned them.

“Oh, dear.” Gilda dabbed her mouth with her napkin.

Audie frowned. “And now he’s dead.”

“That’s the other news. The body in the studio? It wasn’t Brad. It was Finella Gaynor. Apparently Finella and Brad had been dating.” A pang of guilt assaulted me. Was this the kind of gossip Paul warned us against in 2 Corinthians? After all, this was a family dinner, and Brad was family, in a way. I wasn’t telling outsiders.

I decided it was okay. I needed to let off steam about Jenna. Before she left, she let me know she planned to hole up at an out-of-town hotel for the night. She needed time to think. If her thoughts followed the same path as mine, she’d wonder why Brad hadn’t returned. His absence made him look guilty.

“I’m sorry to hear about Finella. She seemed like a nice woman, what little I knew of her.” Audie chewed on his pizza and swallowed. “I wonder how Brad is taking the destruction of the studio.”

I shook my head. “He’s still missing. Jenna’s worried that the police will suspect he committed the murder.”

“What murder?” Gilda cut her pizza and lifted a tiny piece to her mouth. “Surely it was just an accident.”

Audie stared at me. He must have seen the truth and worry in my expression, because he set down his pizza. “Not again.”

I nodded my head. “They believe a blow to her head killed her.”

“And you want to investigate.” A smile played across Audie’s lips.

“You wouldn’t do that!” Gilda exclaimed.

Suddenly Junior kicked me and reminded me of more important things. “I don’t want to. But Jenna’s pretty upset, and she can be very persuasive.”

“The Wilde Sisters ride again.” Audie muttered under his breath so his mother couldn’t hear. From the warmth radiating from his eyes, I knew he didn’t mind.

We finished the pizza without any further discussion of the murder. Audie devoured half of it by himself. The way he chased every crumb on the plate, Gilda must have thought I never fed him anything. Everybody loves their mother’s cooking best
.
Loneliness hit close to home. I couldn’t remember my mother’s cooking, except for a fabulous macaroni and cheese casserole. I had grown up on Dad’s meat-and-potatoes meals.

Gilda waved away my half-hearted offer to wash the dishes.
She really
is
sweet.
I decided to retire to bed early. Audie followed me up the stairs. In what had become a nightly routine, he removed my shoes and rubbed my feet.

“Ah.” I relaxed as my husband’s strong fingers massaged deep into the sore pads of my feet.

“Did you mean what you said? That you won’t investigate?”

I shrugged. “I don’t plan on it.”

Audie didn’t say anything while he prepared a pan of sweet-smelling foot soak. I submerged my feet in the warm liquid and sighed.

“I suppose Brad’s an obvious suspect.” Audie changed into his pajamas for bed.

“Mm-hmm.” Warmth undid the damage of a day on my feet.

Audie crossed his legs and sat at my feet. “Brad didn’t strike me as a likely murderer. He told me some pretty personal stuff during his interview about the mural.”

“That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?” People usually concentrated on business qualifications during the hiring process.

“I asked him why he was interested in Grace Gulch. It was a reasonable question, since he was going to paint a mural about our history.”

Our history
. I liked the way Audie laid claim to Grace Gulch. I wiggled my toes in the water and created a small ripple. “And that opened the door?”

“He told me that he was going to take a page from Larry Grace’s book and make restitution. I didn’t press any further, but it sounded like he was talking about unresolved personal matters.”

Jenna?
Unlikely; he hadn’t contacted her since his arrival in town. “Larry Grace, huh?”

Audie lifted one foot out of the water and scrubbed it with an exfoliating sponge. Heaven.