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Agnes had been up since before dawn when Beverly arrived at the wine shop, explaining she was burning the candle at both ends to get the place ready. The vandalism had set her back, but she remained her usual cheerful, optimistic self.
Beverly surveyed the older woman’s handiwork, admiring how much progress she’d made in less than twenty-four hours. The wine racks, baskets, extra shelving—and a gumball machine from Harlan’s shop—helped tremendously. And yesterday’s delivery of some wines, cheese, crackers, and chocolates made it feel like a store ready for customers.
“Have you set an opening date?” Beverly asked.
“I was thinking next week. For the store part. The cafe may have to wait a little longer. The permits haven’t come through yet. I was quite shocked at all the red tape you have to wade through to open a small cafe.”
“And it’s a matter of waiting for the red tape to clear?”
“The state paperwork was a breeze. A lot of it hasn’t changed since I ran my antiques store. The local clerk’s office is the main holdup. They keep saying it’s a few more days.”
Beverly didn’t like the sound of that, not at all. Because Mayor Lehmann wasn’t only angry with Adam, he had a bead on Beverly, too. If Lehmann knew Beverly and Agnes were friends, he might be spiteful enough to drag out Agnes’s application. And if that were the case, there wasn’t much Beverly or Agnes, or even Adam, could do.
Beverly didn’t mention her suspicions to her friend and pasted on a happy smile, hoping it would fool Agnes. But Agnes wasn’t looking at her. She was staring at the door with her mouth agape.
Beverly looked over and saw a tall, slender man in black slacks, a plain black shirt, and a black scarf around his neck that contrasted with his pale skin and platinum-colored hair. Like a yin-and-yang symbol. Fitting, since the man was none other than Mr. X in one of his rare public outings.
He carried a box in his arms he brought in and laid gently on the floor. He opened it without a word, and Beverly peered inside. “Where in the world did you get those?”
“You told me about Miss Flamm’s unfortunate incident that resulted in the loss of several blue Wedgwood cheese plates and a cheese dome. I happened to have something similar lying around and voilà.”
Beverly eyed him skeptically. “Lying around?”
“Lying around somewhere.” He glanced over at Agnes. “I have no need of such items. But I hope you can find them useful.”
Agnes looked from Beverly to Mr. X and back again. “I don’t know what to say.”
Beverly smiled. “Say yes and thank you. And if there’s a way to sell yak milk hot chocolate in your cafe, we’ll work that out, too.”
“Yak milk?”
“I’ll tell you about it later.” Beverly added, “Can I drop by and see how you’re doing in a few hours? I’d like to have a chat with Mr. Xenakis here.”
“Of course, dear. That would be fine.” Agnes couldn’t stop staring at Mr. X. “Be careful.”
As Beverly and Mr. X walked out the door, he asked, “Your SUV or mine?”
“I can’t believe you’re driving.”
“The foot is much better, but driving can be challenging.”
“Then, my SUV. I have someone I’d like to check out. It would be nice to have the company.”
“With such a lovely chauffeuse, how can I refuse?”
“Chauffeuse? Is that a real French word?”
“Close enough. In Greek, it would be θηλυκό σοφέρ.”
“Someday, you’re going to have to fill me in on your sordid past. I’m dying to know about your family and where you’re from.”
“It’s not as interesting as you think.”
“Try me.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, with one corner of his mouth turning up, as close to a smile as he ever got. “Who is this person you want to investigate?”
“It’s the neighbor of Wallace Ryall, our murder victim. He’s someone Wally sued successfully. Quite a bit of bad blood between them.”
“Would he be at home this time of day?”
“He’s a professor at Hardin Technical College. I looked him up, and he teaches a class there in forty-five minutes.”
Mr. X settled back in his seat. That was one of many things she liked about him—he only asked questions as needed and eschewed small talk. It only took five minutes to reach the campus, and Mr. X served as navigator, directing her to the right building.
They had just pulled into a parking space when Beverly nudged her companion. “That’s him. He was described to me as having brown, curly hair, unusual half-frame eyeglasses. And tweed with patches on the elbows.”
“If that’s your man, who is the young woman he’s with?”
They watched at Atkinson flirted with a girl half his age who giggled and followed the professor into his car. As the pair drove off, Mr. X looked questioningly at Beverly, who said, “You bet your life we’re going to follow them.”
Atkinson and the young woman, whom Beverly assumed was a student, drove to a small house where they parked and headed inside. Beverly and Mr. X took up a position down the street and waited. After a half-hour had passed, Beverly started to say they should head back, when Atkinson popped out again, with a rumpled shirt and carrying his tweed jacket.
He drove off, minus the girl this time, with Beverly keeping a discreet distance, prompting Mr. X to say, “You’re pretty good at tailing. I’m impressed.”
Beverly pulled over as Atkinson did, finding an unobtrusive spot down the road. To her surprise, Atkinson stopped to pick up another passenger, this time, a man. Mr. X looked at Beverly as she sucked air through her teeth. “Someone you know?” he asked.
She’d seen this man recently in a photo Fern Gery showed her at the pub. “That’s Ramsay Ryall, the murder victim’s brother. And a chief suspect.”
“Well, well. The plot thickens. I believe that’s what they say on those TV cop shows?”
Atkinson dropped Ryall off at a hardware store. As Atkinson drove off, Beverly and Mr. X continued to follow until the professor returned to the college, got out of his car, and stalked inside the building.
Mr. X said, “Not what you expected to find, is it?”
“I was going to pretend to be a student wanting to major in Sustainable Design and Technology and ask him some questions. Guess that will have to wait for another time. But after what we saw, might not be necessary.”
“That’s too bad. I know you are itching to drag out some of your disguises.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve gone straight, remember?”
“Officially. But a piece of the con woman will always remain.”
“Like your own less-than-ethical past?”
“Naturally.”
She turned on the radio, but when a newscaster started talking about Wallace Ryall’s murder and Harlan Wilford, she flipped it off. “Poor Harlan. He must be going through hell.”
“As one who has been there and back a few times, he’ll survive.”
Beverly started humming and didn’t realize the tune until Mr. X asked,” That’s from the King and I.”
“What?” She thought about that for a moment. “Whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect I’m afraid?”
“Beverly, Harlan will be fine. Detective Adam Dutton is on the case.”
Beverly felt a smile creep across her face. “Adam is pretty special.”
“Hmm.” Mr. X turned his gaze toward her, his heavy-lidded eyes as inscrutable as ever.
She hastened to add. “You’re pretty amazing, yourself. For helping out Agnes like that.”
“My pleasure. From one old antiquer to another. It’s in the code.”
“The code of the good guys, maybe.”
But Beverly’s efforts over the past few years battling crooked members of the Northeastern Antiques League had made her realize professional “codes” could mutate—depending upon the character-DNA of the user. She started humming again, only this time, “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”
§ § §
Mr. X raised an eyebrow as Beverly rescued her kit and a few other items from her trunk. “That’s an unusual way of ‘going straight,’ Beverly.”
“I know I promised Adam, sort of. But desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“How many wigs do you have in the trunk?”
“Enough.”
He whistled as she slid into the driver’s seat and opened her kit. “Impressive. In all that time running around avoiding being caught by the NAL or police, where did you store these?”
“Kept a few in my suitcase. Bought others new in each town and then donated them to a charity or tossed them in the dumpster as I left.”
“That’s quite practical. I approve.”
“Did you ever use disguises during your days at the NAL?”
“It was far more effective when people saw me coming as I am.”
Beverly had only seen Mr. X as a benign guardian angel. But he also carried an imposing air about him, and every now and then, she’d seen a flash in his eyes that gave her chills. “I guess it’s the same as not asking an assassin about his job. And I have a feeling you were pretty good at doing whatever it was you had to do.”
“I was never comfortable with the role, I happened into it. Something of a family business.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Watching Forsythe and the others go off the deep end was the last straw. I do have a personal code.”
She nodded and left it at that. Although she’d love to know someday where he’d “hidden the bodies.”
As he watched her don the blond wig, eyeglasses, and a fake mole, he asked, “What did you have in mind for those disguises today?”
“I have a sudden interest in hardware.”
He chuckled, and they drove back to the store where Atkinson had dropped off Ramsay Ryall. It must be their lucky day because the man in question was exiting the store when they pulled up.
Beverly hopped out and strode up to him, using a hint of vocal fry as she said, “Why Ramsay Ryall, as I live and breathe.”
He stared at her with pinched brows. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“Sherry, a friend of mine, bought one of your snowmobiles way back when. It was a beauty.”
“I’m not in that business anymore.”
“That’s too bad. Say, wasn’t it your brother I saw in the papers? A murder or something?”
Ramsay winced. “That’s right, my brother Wallace. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Oh, that’s heavy, I get it. Such a close relative and all. Must be hard.”
He hesitated, shifting the shopping bags in his hand. “Well, not that close, to be honest. We’d been estranged.”
“Guess that’s why my friend who bought the snowmobile said she got weird vibes from Wallace. Don’t want to speak ill of the dead and all, but Sherry thought he might have been on something. Said he came on to her. And not in a nice way.”
“I didn’t know about that. And I’m sorry for your friend.”
“Did Wallace do that often? You know, unwanted advances on girls?”
Ramsay frowned. “As I said, we weren’t on good terms. It’s not something I want to discuss. Especially not out here in the open.”
“Sure, sure, I understand.” Beverly smiled up at him. “So, why leave the snowmobile business? Seems like a natural for around here?”
“Wally ruined everything he touched.”
“Really? I don’t understand. I thought the biz was doing great.”
Ramsay hesitated, and Beverly egged him on, “Must have been pretty bad, then.”
“We’d snagged an International Snowmobile Congress award.”
“You know, I think my friend Sherry might have mentioned something about that.”
“It was right before our falling out. Could have meant more sales and an international market push.”
“Oooh, that must have hurt. I’d have throttled him if it was me.”
Ramsay’s neck flushed a bright red, and his hands shook so hard, Beverly worried he’d drop the bags he was carrying. “Look, I’ve got to go,” he said as he rushed off.
When she climbed back into the car, Mr. X gave her a brief smile. “You have a real knack for this disguise business. Did you make that all up on the spot?”
“Practice makes perfect. So they say.”
He had a thoughtful look. “I’m not so sure Adam Dutton asking you not to practice your craft is the right way to go if it’s part of who you are. Perhaps you’ll have to take up acting at the local community theater.”
“Theater?”
“An improv troupe, naturally.”
She laughed so hard she almost had to pull over. Her performance with Ramsay Ryall hadn’t won any awards—or discovered evidence except to verify Ramsay hated his brother and possibly knew more about his brother’s misogyny than he let on. Despite his denials.
But she had to admit it was fun. Was it all part of who she was? Would she be able to give that way of life up for one man’s approval?
Life imitates art imitates life. She wasn’t sure what role she was playing or what role she wanted to play in life, but being an avenging angel for Harlan right now was good enough for her.
