With her failure at creating her own video behind her, Marla threw her efforts into preparing to be Water Girl on Saturday. Kitty had come through on her promise to help her figure out how to get the water to the pickleball court by producing a service wagon and cooler from her storage unit in the underground parking garage.
“The only question remaining,” she said to Kitty the night before the game, “is what I’m supposed to wear.”
“Something comfortable,” Kitty replied.
“What are the team’s colors? I’ll find something to match.”
“Can’t help you there. I’ve never been to one of their games.”
That didn’t surprise her. Unless there was an attractive male on an athletic team, Kitty didn’t attend sporting events. “I wish I’d thought to ask Scottie when I agreed to step in for her. She’s probably headed to Chicago already.”
“Text her,” Kitty said. “I’ve got her number if you don’t have it.”
An hour later, they had their answer. Olive green and white, plus the warning not to wear yellow as it drew players’ attention away from the balls, most of which were yellow.
“Ooh, olive green is so not your color,” Kitty said. “Not with your fair skin and graying red hair. Speaking of which, why haven’t you done something about coloring it?”
“Good question. Guess I haven’t had time to consider it since I arrived. I sort of cut back on that type of luxury in recent months. I no longer had the services of the show’s hairdresser, and I didn’t feel I could afford that level of expertise on my own dollar.”
They’d been staring at the contents of Marla’s closet. Kitty pulled her over to the bed and sat down beside her. “Speaking of which, we haven’t talked about your finances since you’ve been here. I’ve sensed there was more to that story but left it to you to bring up. But since you did …”
“I’m not destitute. The show gave me a decent payout, since I still had a year left on my contract. Plus, Carson and I established a sizable nest egg over the years, what with the properties he’d acquired before our marriage and the income from his screenwriting and my acting gigs once we were together. But for the first time in six years, I had to face the expenses the show had been covering, things like my transportation, meals, and my hair and makeup. That payout can only go so far.”
“Oh, Marla! I didn’t realize. I’ve always pictured you as richer than King Midas.” She paused, apparently thinking through the implications of her sister’s admission. “Did you have to sell your house? Is that why you finally decided to come here?”
Marla gave a half laugh. She didn’t want to scare Kitty nor paint the situation worse than it was. And she still hadn’t given her the full story behind her financial crisis. “No. I’m keeping my home in Brentwood and all my other properties except the mountain cabin I inherited from Carson. He went there to write. I never go there.”
She didn’t add that she’d used the proceeds from selling the cabin to invest in a project that had yet to see the light of day. The producer friend to whom she’d given the money had assured her when they first talked that it was ready to launch as soon as he got the additional funding. She’d neglected the advice of her financial advisor to never invest in her own projects, to let the speculators absorb the cost, and she’d relearned why that made sense.
“You know you’re welcome to stay with me as long as you like. This condo is paid off, and I just have minor living expenses.”
“Thanks. For now, I’m accepting your offer, although I can more than cover your living expenses and mine. I mainly need a place where I can contemplate where I go from here. Somewhere that’s comfortable and welcoming. And living here with you fits the bill exactly.”
Saturday morning was one of those gifts to the Northland, when even though it was late fall, the temps were in the low seventies, the humidity nonexistent and the sky a brilliant blue. As much as she loved the warmth and perpetual green of California, her home state wasn’t so bad either, especially if you preferred four seasons to one. In fact, if it wasn’t for the mind-numbing cold of winter and the onset of healthier-than-they-deserved-to-be-mosquitoes—often referred to as the state bird—this was a real paradise.
The pickleball courts were part of a small recreational area for the use and enjoyment of the condo residents located behind the condo complex. The oasis was surrounded by a stand of maple, oak and fir trees. Four pickleball courts framed with a twenty-foot-high fence occupied a large sector of the interior. Four picnic tables, a charcoal grill and two wrought-iron benches sat off to the other side.
Marla hadn’t been here before, but seeing the amenities now as she pulled the wagon behind her, she resolved to return another time when no pickleball games were underway. She could picture herself reading on one of those benches.
Six players were already setting up at various spots on one side of the net inside the fences.
“You’re late for practice,” a woman’s accusatory voice said from behind her.
Marla turned to face the voice. It belonged to a heavily made-up woman in her forties or fifties, her graying dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, a pair of goggles with olive-green frames on her head.
“I’m not here for practice. I’m subbing for Scottie Richards today. I’m Mar—”
“Okay, fine. We don’t need you for a while, but you can set up that contraption over there right outside the fence. What is it, anyhow?”
“It’s called a service wagon. They’re becoming very popular. Great for hauling …”
“Yes, yes. Be ready with the water. There’d better be more than one bottle in there. These folks seem to inhale the contents of their water bottles.”
“I’m on it,” Marla told the woman’s disappearing back.
The woman flounced off to confront a guy in his thirties with close-cropped blond hair who’d just arrived on court. He must’ve been another team member because he wore the requisite olive-green shirt and white shorts.
“Where have you been, Tanner? You were due here ten minutes ago,” the woman said, her tone accusing.
Was she the team captain or whatever the leaders of pickleball teams were called? She certainly thought she was in charge.
“Sorry, Eloise. I had to stop by the post office to ship that package we didn’t finish until late last night,” Tanner said, trying to explain.
“Those sketches should’ve been ready to go by the close of day.”
“You wouldn’t release them until you personally checked each one, and you got called away until after seven.”
“It should have been ready much earlier in the day, before I got called away.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but Marla never heard whatever he’d been about to say because the woman he’d called Eloise had already pivoted to approach another player.
Marla pulled the wagon over to the spot Eloise had indicated. It didn’t appear she had anything to do for a bit, but to be on the safe side, she checked the water supply to ensure none of the bottles had tipped over in transit.
Once she assured herself all was ready, she occupied herself observing the proceedings on the court. She settled into the folding chair Kitty had insisted she include and attempted to determine who was who.
“Marla! What brings you to our pickleball game? Don’t tell me you’ve joined the team?”
The statuesque brunette who’d come up to her was one of the women she’d met at Kitty’s book club. The one who was interested in Letitia’s wardrobe. Marla attempted to recall the woman’s name.
“Liz Parsons,” the newcomer said, offering a slender, well-manicured hand. “We met at book club. I live in your condo building. On the first floor.”
“Right. You’re the one who wanted to know what wardrobe items I got to keep from the show.”
“Guilty. I’m a bit of a fashionista.”
Marla checked out Liz’s playing clothes. “I can see. Even your uniform looks good on you.”
Liz glanced down at what she was wearing. “This? Pure luck. My coloring is similar to that witch over there.” She pointed to Eloise.
“Witch?” Marla had already figured that out for herself, but to hear a woman she hardly knew say it out loud was a bit of a shock.
Liz put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Is she a friend of yours?”
She laughed. “No. I just met her. Actually, we didn’t really exchange names. She just caught me arriving with today’s water, and I explained that I was subbing for Scottie.”
“Oh, right. Scottie told me she wouldn’t be here this week, but I didn’t know she’d corralled you into replacing her. As for the witch, she goes by Eloise Wallace. I wouldn’t worry about clashing with her. She’ll be too busy harassing the team to pick on you unless you get in her way. She likes to think of herself as team captain, although we’ve never elected her. That would never happen. No one likes her, for a long list of reasons. But no one wants to be in charge, either. So we put up with her.”
“Scottie didn’t clue me in to any of that.”
Now Liz laughed too. “Can you blame her? If you knew about Eloise, you most likely wouldn’t have agreed to be here.”
“You’re probably right. Scottie wangled last-minute tickets to a Taylor Swift concert in Chicago, and I doubt she wanted to miss out,” Marla replied. “I don’t know anything about pickleball. Can you give me a headline version?”
“It’ll have to be just that. Eloise is already eyeing me over here. We’re part of the St. Paul Pickleball League. The game has become so popular, there are three pairs on each team. Each pair plays three games. The best two of the three win. This week we’re playing a six-person team from Cottage Grove.”
“Parsons! Get over here now,” Eloise Wallace shouted from across the court. “No time for chitchat. Your backhand needs more work after that poor performance last week.”
“I rest my case. Sorry, gotta go,” Liz said, taking off.
Years ago in high school, Marla had tried out for a girls’ basketball team. She’d quickly discovered basketball wasn’t her thing. Thanks to the ballet and tap lessons her parents had encouraged her to take, she moved her feet well. But her body, probably still adjusting to the sudden height increase, refused to recognize the connection between her hands and feet. She could dribble and shoot but not in sync with her feet. The coach had spent extra time with her, working on various hands-feet exercises. Finally, long after Marla had already realized basketball wasn’t in her future, the coach sat her down privately and suggested, sweetly, that Marla find another sport.
Other sports didn’t seem to be her bag either. Cross-country wore her out. Swimming triggered her allergies. That coach suggested she find another way to spend her after-school hours, so she tried out for a school play. To her relief, and her parents’, everything seemed to come together when she walked onto her first stage. She not only remembered her lines, but stage directions came naturally. Her body had found its home.
She never would’ve made it through that gauntlet of athletic challenges if any of the coaches had come down on her case like this Eloise person was doing with her pickleball team. How would that affect their play?
It didn’t take long to find out. And the results were not good. The guy, Tanner, was partnered with a woman who appeared to be fifteen or twenty years his senior. Although Marla had never seen the game played before, it was easy to tell the two weren’t working well together by the way the woman kept moving in front of Tanner and from the exasperated looks he kept shooting her direction.
The first pair played two games. She had no idea what the final score was, but from the way Eloise charged over to both of them afterwards, her face twisted in rage, it wasn’t difficult to tell the outcome.
The pair toweled off and then slunk off the court.
“Hey, guys, good show out there,” Marla told them when they popped over to meet her.
“What game were you watching?” a very dejected Tanner asked. “The two of us couldn’t get it together.”
“But thanks for the kind words, anyhow,” the woman said. “I’m Nell Hampton. I shouldn’t even be here today. The woman fired me two weeks ago, but I felt I owed it to the rest of the team to show up.”
Talk about a double whammy. Losing the game was one thing, but to have also been so recently fired by the woman who’d put herself in charge of the team was quite another. Marla wasn’t sure she could be so supportive of the team had it been her. “Believe it or not, I’ve been there myself recently,” she replied.
Nell gave her a second look. “Omigod, you’re that actress who played the PI. You got fired, too.”
Marla offered her hand. “I’m Marla Dane. I played Letitia Carruthers on Carruthers on the Case. Technically, I wasn’t fired. At least I don’t call it that. I was replaced by another actress.”
“A younger actress, as I recall.”
Marla couldn’t help but smile. No matter how little people seemed to know about her situation, they always seemed to recall the younger actress part. “Yes, that’s me.”
“What on earth are you doing here as Water Girl for our game?”
“I prefer Water Lady, if you don’t mind,” she replied, surprising herself with the subtlety.
“Good to know you’re here,” Tanner said, “although my container still has a little left.”
Nell passed on a refill also. Then the two shuttled off to a nearby bench.
The next game began within a few minutes. This time, Eloise was paired with a guy about her age. “Let’s not have a repeat of last week, Brecken,” she told the man.
“Then don’t cut off my shots,” Brecken replied.
“I only did that because you were asleep at the wheel. Someone had to keep the volley going.”
“I was no such thing. You just don’t trust me.”
The whistle blew, cutting off their comments. Was that their pregame windup, each egging the other on, or were they truly at odds with each other?
Sure enough, whatever had been going on between them didn’t help their play. He seemed to hesitate before returning shots as if anticipating her taking over at the last second.
Like the last pair, these two were defeated as well. Eloise stormed off somewhere on her own, but the guy came over to Marla.
“You’re new.”
“I’m a sub,” she replied.
“Thanks for helping out.” He left it at that and wandered off to join the other two.
The next pair, Liz and another woman, actually worked together to score, redeeming the team in the third match. But when they won, Eloise was nowhere around to congratulate them.
“Thanks,” the other woman, who appeared to be about the same age as Eloise, told Marla when she came over to her.
“You’re welcome, but I don’t know what for. No one has needed more water today.”
“Your presence is reassuring, though. We appreciate your giving up several hours on a Saturday to help out. I’m Grace Adamson.”
Marla immediately experienced a calming vibe as she gazed into Grace’s friendly hazel eyes. “Nice to meet you. I’m Marla Dane.”
“The Marla Dane?” Grace asked. “Well, of course you are. I can’t believe I looked right at you and didn’t realize it was you. In fact, I can’t believe you’re our water girl today.”
“A favor to a friend, your regular.”
“I’d heard you were in town, but I never dreamed you’d be at our game,” Grace said.
“This court is on the grounds of the condo complex where I’m staying.”
“Did you see where Eloise went right after the game?” Grace asked Liz as she joined them.
“Don’t know and don’t care, although my guess is she didn’t know how to say, ‘Great game, ladies,’ and hustled off before she had to.”
“It shouldn’t surprise me that she wouldn’t have a good word for me, but she could have congratulated you. We were the only ones to win one for the team today,” Grace said.
“Dream on, Grace. Did she ever compliment you when you worked together?”
Grace pulled in her lips. “Not her style. I’d gotten used to her personality there, but you’d think she’d be a little more appreciative of everyone else’s efforts on the court.”
“You don’t have to be on the team. The woman stole your company from you,” Liz replied.
“You’re right. But it’s one way to keep in touch with you guys.”
“It’s your life. Only you know why you continue to put up with her.”
With the third win, the day’s matches seemed to be over, along with Marla’s responsibility for the extra water, which went untouched. Even she hadn’t been all that thirsty.
Everyone disappeared as fast as they’d shown up.
No need to pack up. Maybe she’d turn the untouched bottles over to Scottie for the next week.
She’d done her good deed. Time to head back to Kitty’s condo and never again attend another pickleball game.
Thanks in large part to Marla’s lesson in pie baking, Kitty survived her stint as a pie judge. In fact, at least according to her, the experience went quite well. The first forty-eight hours following the event, Marla was pleased for her sister. After that, not so much. And if she never heard the name Hub Sherman again, it would be too soon. Fortunately, Kitty didn’t bring him back to her condo.
Marla didn’t expect to see Scottie for a few days, figuring she stayed at least another day in Chicago. But she did think the woman would stop by or call on Monday to thank her for taking over her water role.
On Tuesday, instead of Scottie, she was visited by Colman Goodhue, the Maple Knolls Chief of Police. A tad taller than Marla, Goodhue also had reddish hair sprinkled with gray like her, only his gray was winning out sooner. His usually smiling gray eyes were more somber today.
“Chief, haven’t seen you since we wrapped up the Elliot murder. Unless some new detail popped up?”
Goodhue had been all smiles after she and Rex discovered who killed the Condo Casanova, as the media tagged him. There were no smiles today.
“Could we sit somewhere?” he asked.
“Uh, sure.” She led him to the sofa in the living room. She settled in a nearby easy chair.
“I understand you helped out at a pickleball match last Saturday.”
“Yes, I subbed for the woman who usually provides the water for the team so she could go to Chicago.”
“And you met a woman by the name of Eloise Wallace?” he continued.
“Yes, but just briefly. She acts as the team’s captain and went off right away to get things organized.”
“Had you met her before?”
“No.” His seriousness alarmed her. “What’s this all about, Chief?”
“She was murdered, Marla.”