Larceny and Lace (14 page)

I shrugged. “"It wasn’'t that bad.”"

Eve chuckled. “"The worms in the apple? Remember?”"

“"True, but there are worms around here, too, judging by the body count.”"

“"And the wildcat piece of work we’'re having drinks with.”" Eve rolled her eyes. I turned in my seat. “"How did you find her?”"

“"She found me and invited us for drinks.”"

“"Sounds a bit like an agenda.”"

“"Ya think?”"

Eve glanced at me. “"You didn’'t ask me who she is.”"

“"I already had a mental picture of Leopard Nails. Who is she?”"

“"Lolique LaFleur, Councilman McDowell’'s trophy wife.”"

“"You jest. The town gossip columnist is married to the publicity hound from hell?

Her name sure doesn’'t give away her courage,”" I said. “"I look forward to meeting the woman who can stand to live with that man. It’'s a wonder he never broke his arm patting himself on the back.”"

“"I think he did once,”" Eve said.

“"Stop the car and back up a bit.”"

Eve hit the brakes, looking like I was nuts, but she put the car in reverse so I could see the two women sparring beside their cars on the overlook.

“"That’'s Sampson’'s sister. She just left the shop,”" I said, “"but I don’'t know who she’'s with.”"

“"Lolique,”" Eve said. “"Leopard Nails herself.”"

“"How do they know each other? Why would they argue?”"

“"Everybody knows everybody around here. Besides, people stop Lolique on the street for her autograph. You know what their stances remind me of? Me and my mother when we disagree on something we’'ve never agreed on. That’'s a ‘'here we go again’'

discussion, if ever I’'ve seen one. The way their arms are moving takes practice.”"

“"I never knew you to be so observant and so
wrong
. Sheesh, drive, will you, before they see us.”"

Eve hit the gas and we glided away.

I shook my head. “"It doesn’'t add up. For somebody who hasn’'t been in Mystick Falls long, Sampson’'s sister knows a lot of people, consorting with the local butcher, Lolique, a local celebrity, and a man in a wheelchair.”"

“"Consorting?”" Eve asked.

We made up outlandish “"consorting”" scenarios until we pulled into the car lot.

“"You look at Elements, let me do the talking, and don’'t drool in front of a salesman.”" I saluted. “"Gotcha.”"

Inside, Eve interviewed salesmen and I admired a painting of an auburn-haired woman, front and center on an upper-floor wall, pose regal, features delicate, a sweet expression as she looked down on everyone.

“"Who is she?”" I asked a woman behind a counter.

“"Madeira? Maddie Cutler, star pupil, is that you?”"

I knew the face but it took a minute to get a name. “"Natalie Hayward? How are you?”" I’'d once taken an advanced sewing course from her, a rare adult who let you call them by their first name. She must be in her early fifties, by now. “"You look great,”" I said.

“"I am and so glad that you’'re back to stay.”"

“"Me, too. Do you work here? No more sewing lessons?”" Her eyes crinkled with her smile. “"Administrative assistant to the owner pays better.”"

So why sit in an information booth? I wondered.

“"I’'m filling in during the floor manager’'s break,”" she said. “"I like to get out of the office once in a while. What did you want to know?”"

“"The name of the woman in that painting?”"

“"Oh, she’'s the last of Zachary Goodwin’'s direct line, his daughter, Gwendolyn. Zachary’'s great-great-grandfather started the dealership and swore it would stay in the family, though an in-law owns the place now. Gwendolyn’'s painting has to stay up, or her second cousin inherits. He’'s the dark-haired man having coffee over there.”"

“"The one in the wheelchair?”" The man Eve and I might have seen kissing Suzanne Sampson in her backyard. How many men in wheelchairs could there be in Mystick Falls?

“"Yep. Gary Goodwin. Comes in every day to be sure her picture’'s still there. God forbid we should have an earthquake and it falls. Gary will take right over.”" She laughed as if she made a joke, but it seemed forced.

“"Would it be a disaster if he took over?”"

“"No, everyone likes Gary, but he doesn’'t have what it takes to make Goodwin’'s flourish.”"

“"Why do you say that?”"

“"He votes against dealership needs at board meetings, because he hates the owner. Gary should have inherited. Zachary Goodwin’'s will was a surprise.”" Natalie caught someone’'s eye and stiffened.

I looked behind me but saw only the man in question looking the other way.

“"Sorry,”" she said. “"I’'m talking out of turn.”"

“"It’'s okay. I like local history. One more thing. Has Goodwin needed that chair his whole life?”"

“"No, it was a car accident before they opened this place. His physical injuries healed to the extent they could, but that’'s old news.”"

“"Excuse us,”" Eve said, pulling me well away from the central counter. “"No paying cash, Mad, which I know is your preference,”" she whispered. “"You want a payment plan to give you wiggle room, money wise. You can always pay it off early, if Vintage Magic is hopping. What color?”"

I love Eve. She’'d jump into the ocean to save me. I knew, because she’'d done that when we were five.

I patted the loaded Element in the showroom. “"I want this one. It’'s cinnamon. Isn’'t it beautiful? The way its color flows from light to dark reminds me of a shiny bolt of sateen that changes color depending on how you move it in the light. See how the color graduates from brown to a dark antique bronze.”"

“"Get real. That’'s the lighting in the showroom. You need me, Cutler, so go look at a brochure or something while I talk money.”"

I felt as if I should salute, but I wouldn’'t mock the hand that saved me a buck. Besides, I
was
used to premium Big Apple prices. Things were different in Connecticut, and Eve was certainly making it easy. No zip, no fuss.

I read a history of the Goodwin dealerships on the wall while I waited. This was the second of two locations. The first, in Groton, had been started a century before. This one was practically a new baby at nearly thirty years.

Later, while I perused the brochures, I spotted Councilman McDowell behind a desk. Our eyes met, so I had no choice but to say hello. “"Councilman.”"

“"Welcome back to Mystick Falls, Ms. Cutler.”"

“"You know who I am?”"

“"From the picture in my wife’'s column that I get force-fed to me at breakfast.”" Right. Lolique, the
Entertainment Tonight
of Mystick Falls. Surprise; the publicity hound made me smile. “"I didn’'t know you worked here.”" He stood as I approached. “"It’'s worse than that. I own the place.”" He indicated the chair across from his desk.

I shook my head and remained standing. “"Guess you’'re the in-law who has to keep the portrait of the Goodwin daughter front and center so her cousin won’'t inherit.”" His expression darkened like a thundercloud. Talk about black looks. “"Said cousin once spent months on the psych ward and would run this place into the ground if given half a chance.”"

I stepped back from Councilman McNasty. “"I didn’'t mean to broach a touchy subject.”"

He masked his expression like a good little politician. “"The Goodwin daughter is my dead wife.”"

Remove foot from mouth. Proceed carefully. “"Forgive me. I had no idea.”" He nodded to someone across the room. “"Your friend’'s looking for you. Ms. Cutler,”" he added, as I turned to go, “"I’'m glad your building escaped the fire.”" Unexpected nicety. “"Thank you. I am, too.”"

As I completed the paperwork for the car, I thought I did see our salesman’'s eyes fill. Eve had used math and logic to shoot down every deal, forcing him to cut his own profit to make the sale. She
could
make car salesmen cry.

“"That was an awesome deal, Meyers. I owe you.”"

“"You sure do. It’'s root beer by the way.”"

I gave her a blank look as we got in her car.

“"The paint job on your Element; it’'s root beer.”"

“"Bummer,”" I said. “"Cinnamon’'s an earth element that inspires wealth. Root beer probably inspires ice cream floats.”" I faced her. “"I hope the robbery and fire weren’'t signs, though moving in today seemed to turn my luck. An honest to grand opening almost seems possible.”"

“"Forget the opening and tell me about these earth elements and signs. Are you playing witch with Fiona?”"

“"Don’'t pop a stitch. It’'s just a little folklore, which hasn’'t done me any good.”" I sighed and bit my lip. “"You know, there’'s something about Goodwin’'s that bothers me, but I can’'t figure out what it is.”"

Twenty-six
To be carried by shoes, winged by them. To wear dreams on one’'s feet is to begin to give reality to one’'s dreams.

-ROGER VIVIER

As I got ready for my welcome-home party, Sampson’'s conglomerate buyer called, and I hoped to get the details I’'d been waiting for. By the time we finished talking money, he told me something about Broderick Sampson that I was so happy to learn, I let down my guard and admitted—--maybe too soon for more information—--that I’'d decided not to sell. The buyer about cried. I, on the other hand, held another puzzle piece. It didn’'t answer specifics about Sampson’'s death, but it might help me clear Tunney of the motive people were so willing to pin on him.

I still needed to solve the puzzle of the bones and find out who killed Sampson, so I intended to question everyone tonight. Was it gauche, I wondered, to use one’'s own coming-home party for unabashed yet clandestine sleuthing? No one would call me on it, except maybe for Werner, but he wouldn’'t show, not after today. I chose squashed-heel Mary Janes upholstered in bold pink-on-black chintz, a cheeky shoe by Bennis/Edwards, and paired them with a sixties pink Betsey Johnson minidress, its long sleeves, shirred with elastic in three places, ending with a wrist-flare, an at-home party dress.

The muggy air curled my hair, giving it a bouncy life of its own, so I left it down. After so much time in Eve’'s convertible, the sun had pulled out the hint of paprika that I liked because it reminded me of my mother.

Cars arrived while I dressed, and I couldn’'t wait to go down. Chakra hurried me along with her meows.

The Sweets were waiting at the bottom of the back stairs, the ones closest to my bedroom.

“"I’'m so glad you’'re here,”" I said as I hugged them. “"I’'ve been dying to invite you to my grand opening ball on Halloween night.”"

Chakra jumped into my arms to be dutifully petted by them.

As I related details, the younger Sweet’'s expression soured. “"I’'m too old for that nonsense,”" Ethel said.

“"Well, I’'m not,”" Dolly, the centenarian, countered. “"I’'ll wear Tracy Lord’'s wedding dress from
The Philadelphia Story
.”" She didn’'t need to say she was more than ready to see Dante again, but I noticed a new twinkle in her eyes. I took the ladies, one on each arm, and walked them to a sofa. “"Can you do me a favor, starting tonight?”" I whispered. “"Pay close attention to any gossip about Suzanne Sampson and anybody named Isobel.”"

Dolly trembled in excitement as she agreed, while Ethel shook her head at us. I got them each a plate from the buffet before I went to meet the rest of my guests.

“"Aunt Fiona,”" I said. “"Thank you, again, for today. I already thanked Dad, but I know you must have worked hard coordinating.”"

“"Sherry and Justin stayed in the apartment above my garage and handed out boxes to move. That’'s why I knew when they arrived that they had the last of it. Frankly,”" Aunt Fiona added, “"it’'s given your father and I something to talk about.”"

“"Are you going to invite him to the Circle of Spirit ball?”"

“"Invite Harry to a witch ball? I’'d rather chew glass.”"

“"I’'ll invite him, though I might not mention the Circle of Spirit. It’'s my grand opening, and he’'s my business partner, of sorts, so he won’'t say no to me. He might even dance with you.”"

“"Don’'t bet on it.”"

“"Whatever.”" I shrugged, but knew how to handle my dad. I mingled and talked, filled with angst over Suzanne cheating on Tunney. Even my sister-in-law, Tricia, and my six-month-old niece, Kelsey, were here to welcome me home. Kelsey replaced me as Chakra’'s new favorite person, so wherever the baby went after that, so did Chakra.

After dinner, Dad asked me to cut the cake. Cameras flashed and everyone called for a speech.

I stood on a chair in the keeping room to be seen from other rooms. “"I hope I’'ve thanked you personally,”" I said, “"but if I haven’'t, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Not only for moving me in but for the clothes you left at my door. I have vintage treasures that will sell. If you see any that you donated for sale, tell me, so I can give you a discount on your first purchase.”"

I cleared my throat. “"Among the donations, however—--and I think you know this—--are some items not quite designer vintage.”"

Several people chuckled.

“"Not to worry. I’'m going to make them work like magic, anyway. Just not
Vintage
Magic. I’'ll use them to advertise the shop, so everything you’'ve given me is made of gold, like your hearts.”"

“"How can you advertise with nonvintage?”" Tunney, a late arrival, asked.

“"Tunney! So glad to see you.”" I blew him a kiss, then I noticed Suzanne beside him, and beside her, Werner.

Scrap. I couldn’'t ignore Werner after sending Tunney a kiss, but we had a whole different relationship. “"Detective,”" I said. “"Whatever it is, I
didn’'t
do it!”" Kinky retro, I saw his rare smile. Oh! I got a flashback: Werner laughing in the upstairs hall, me in his arms. “"Can somebody open a door? It’'s hot in here.”"

“"What
are
you going to do with the non-designer vintage?”" Aunt Fiona asked, repeating Tunney’'s question.

“"I’'m having a scarecrow contest, and you’'re all invited to enter. The day after tomorrow, I’'ll have a table of freebie clothes to dress your scarecrows.”" Light chatter broke out.

“"Think theme. You have days to put Mr. or Mrs. Scarecrow together. Judging will take place Sunday at two. Set up your scarecrows from nine to noon, and use the crossed wooden stands that you use on Christmas trees to hold them up. No pole holes in my new parking lot.”"