When we got home, Denisha, Austin, and Kennedy were waiting for us on the porch.
“Rats,” Jerry said. “I forgot to see about buying a Wow System.”
“Looks like the three of them are getting along. Maybe all is forgiven.”
We got out of the car and were immediately surrounded by the kids.
“Jerry!” Austin said. “Did you get a Wow?”
“No, I’m sorry, guys. Mac and I got involved with something and I completely forgot.”
Austin was down for only a moment. “That’s okay. We can go to Kennedy’s.”
Denisha didn’t look happy with this decision. Kennedy had another question.
“I saw you had a piano,” she said to Jerry. “Do you ever give lessons?”
“No. I suppose I could, though.”
“I take lessons from Mrs. Norton, but I don’t like her. She’s really strict.”
“I’ve never tried, but I guess I could,” he said. “Show me what you know already.”
While all three kids and Jerry experimented with the piano, I checked the answering machine and was surprised to find a message from my mother asking me to call. When I called, she was unusually cheerful. I soon found out why.
“Madeline, I hear Wendall Clarke is opening a gallery in Celosia. What a piece of luck for you! I hope you’re going to show your work there. He’s such a character. Have you met that new wife of his? She’s at least fifteen years younger. Quite the little princess. She used to be married to Stan Bailey, you know. Talk about an upgrade! Bailey never amounted to anything. I’m not surprised she left him. When can I come visit?”
I was almost speechless. Mother never wanted to visit. She’s resigned to the fact that Jerry and I are married, and she’s become a little more tolerant of my artistic endeavors, mainly because I had a successful showing at one of Parkland’s premiere galleries. This gave her a new set of bragging rights. But she’d never shown any interest in seeing our new home.
“You’re welcome any time, Mom.”
“What’s Jerry doing these days?”
“Oh, he’s musical director for the Celosia Theater.” I made it sound as lofty as possible. Even though Mother says she loves Jerry, she’s baffled by his refusal to take any of the Fairweather fortune and is not a fan of his carefree lifestyle. If she knew of his past shady dealings, it would knock her perfectly ordered world off its axis.
“That sounds impressive, Madeline. I hope it pays well.”
“We’re doing all right.”
“I suppose you still have your little agency?”
My little agency. Thanks, Mom. “Yes, I’m working on a couple of cases.”
“One of my friends said she thought she saw you at Billamena Tyson’s yesterday.”
In some ways, Parkland is as small a town as Celosia. “I stopped by to visit.”
I braced myself for a lecture on why I didn’t take the time to visit my own mother since I was right there in the neighborhood, but instead, she latched on to the pageant connection. I should have known.
“Are the two of you thinking of entering Mrs. Parkland? She still has a reasonably good voice, and if you practiced every day, you could have your talent in shape in a couple of weeks.”
After my last pageant, I’d sold my violin. I was never going to play “Orange Blossom Special” again. “We talked about other things.”
“She’s let herself go, but you still look wonderful. You could easily win.”
Was she ever going to let go? “I’m kind of busy right now.”
There was a long pause. “Well, I’m very interested in seeing the new gallery. Maybe I’ll drive over there later this week.”
“I’ll be glad to see you.” I meant it. Could my mother and I finally attempt a real relationship?
By the time I got back to the parlor, Austin and Denisha had already left, and Kennedy had called her mother to see if she could switch piano teachers.
“She says she’ll think about it,” she said to Jerry. “I guess I’d better go. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
As she skipped out, I said, “You’ll never guess who wants to visit us.”
“The stork?”
“No. My mother.”
He was impressed. “Really? What brought this on?”
“The new gallery. She wants to see it.”
“Did you tell her to come on down?”
“She said she may drive over next week.” I still couldn’t quite believe it.
“This news deserves a fanfare.” Jerry played several impressive chords on the piano, started a cheery tune, and then slid into a minor key. “Uh, oh. What would she think about being a grandmother?”
I sat down on the piano bench beside him. “That’s not high on her list. And I’m afraid if we had a girl, she’d try to make her into a pageant princess.”
“Then we’d better have a boy.”
“I’d rather have dinner.” I gave him a hug. “What’s on the menu tonight?”
“Spaghetti.”
I waited, but my stomach did not object. “Great. I’m going to paint for a while.”
“I’ll be in Oklahoma.”
***
I worked in my studio for about an hour, but this time I couldn’t concentrate on my paintings or lose myself in the creative process. I kept thinking about Honor Perkins. On top of my usual concerns about Jerry’s old con buddies, Honor seemed like a woman who was not likely to let Jerry go. I thought there was a lot more to her scheme than payback for a past con job. I wondered if he knew she had feelings for him. Probably not. My husband was very clever about many things, but he didn’t always connect the emotional dots. It had taken him forever to realize I was his perfect choice.
On second thought, maybe I was wrong about Honor. Maybe she just missed the good old con days and having Jerry as a partner. But my pageant days had taught me quite a bit about jealousy. That’s what I saw in Honor’s keen dark eyes.
It was almost seven-thirty when I came into the kitchen. Since it was Wednesday night—church night—Jerry didn’t have to be at the theater. He was piling a heap of spaghetti onto his plate. “Someone from the choir called and said they were having some kind of retreat meeting tonight, so I wasn’t needed,” he said. “I figured you’d come down when you got hungry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
I helped myself to some spaghetti and took my place at the table. “You’ve already disturbed me. I need to know what other schemes of yours are likely to cause trouble.”
“I’m not sure I can remember all of them.”
“Try.”
He gave himself another helping of sauce and sat down at the table. “Well, let’s see. Besides the séances, Jeff and I ran a lot of little cons, the knife trick, simple bar tricks with matches and coins. With Rick it was the fake unicorn pictures, pet psychics, and the purse scam. Del and I ran some fob off games and twinkles. I guess that leaves Honor and the bank examiner con, the one I told you about.”
“Anything else?”
He shook his head. “I believe that’s it.”
I wound some spaghetti around my fork. “So no more of these friends hold grudges, or want you back in the game, or have angry victims hunting them and, by association, you?”
“I hope not. I’m really sorry about all this, Mac.”
I can’t stay mad at him for long. “I know. I’m just worried about our future. The next threat might not be a practical joke.”
“You have to understand that for me none of these cons were about cheating folks out of their money. It was about seeing what I could get away with. It was a lot of fun for me.”
“It was illegal. You’re lucky you weren’t caught.”
“That’s why I stopped. I’m a married man and possibly a father.”
“You always turn the conversation around to that, don’t you?”
“Now that I’ve given up my cons, I have to find another way to entertain myself.”
I set my fork aside. “Okay, suppose, just suppose we had a baby. Since I set up my agency in town, I’ve been lucky to have enough work, but I can’t count on my fellow Celosians to kill each other on a regular basis.”
“Then you’ll be happy to know I emailed my resume to several more companies.”
“That sounds encouraging. What did you put down under experience?”
“‘Sidekick to an extremely successful private investigator.’ No, the word I used was ‘associate.’ We’ll see what happens.” Jerry gave me another searching gaze and then moved his chair so he could put his arm around me. “What’s really bothering you about this, Mac?”
What was really bothering me? I wasn’t sure. “Maybe I still feel pressured. You know that’s all Bill talked about.”
“Because he saw his wife as a baby-making machine. What’s he got now, six?”
“Number four is on the way.”
“The more children he has, the more manly he feels. You know that’s not true with me.”
“I’m coming around to the idea. But what about my mother? She’ll have our child in pageants from the day it’s born.”
“Nope. I will con her out of that idea.”
“It would be worth having a baby to see you do that.”
“So we have a deal?”
My phone rang. “Hold that thought.”
It was Nell. “Madeline, are you busy?”
“Just having supper.”
“Got a bunch of pictures to hang at the gallery. You mind stopping by and giving me some advice?”
“I can be there in about twenty minutes.” She thanked me and I hung up, relieved to have postponed the baby deal for the moment. “Nell needs my help at the gallery. Care to come along?”
***
Nell unlocked the front gallery door for us. “Thanks for coming. I’m not sure where all this stuff goes.”
The stuff was a stack of paintings and a pile of sculptures. I recognized Ginger’s ping-pong creations and Bea Ricter’s distressed wooden frames. Several of the frames were in pieces.
“What happened there, Nell?”
“Found them like that. Guess they got knocked over.”
With Jerry’s help, we hung the pictures and placed the sculptures in the display cases. Then we cleared all the packing materials, plastic bags, and strips of tape.
“What about Bea’s broken frames?”
“Just leave them there, I guess. She can do what she wants with ’em. We can put the trash out back.” Our hands were full, so Nell pushed the back door open with her hip and stepped outside. She did a little side step and almost tripped over something. “Good lord!”
The something was Wendall Clarke, stretched out in the narrow space behind the gallery’s back door. As I hurriedly punched in 9-1-1 on my phone, I saw a shadowy shape hurry around the corner, get into a car, and speed away. Jerry sprinted after it, returning after a few minutes to say he couldn’t see the license plate, but the car was a newer model beige Accord.
“Sounds like Larissa Norton’s car,” Nell said. She set her trash bag aside and bent down with me over Wendall. “Is he dead?”
I carefully felt Wendall’s wrist. “I’m afraid so.”
There wasn’t much light, but I saw a large chunk of wood by Wendall’s head, the same type of wood Bea Ricter used for her artwork. His forehead was scraped and dark with blood. The same dark bloodstains were on the piece of wood.
Nell’s voice was shaky. “What’s he doing out here? He didn’t say anything about coming back to the gallery tonight.”
“Are you certain that was Larissa’s car?”
“I’m pretty sure. You think she lured him back here to kill him?”
I thought it more likely Larissa would kill Flora. “I don’t know. A lot of people were angry with Wendall.”
In the distance we could hear sirens. The EMTs would be here in a few minutes, but they’d be too late to save Wendall. The police would be here, too, so I had a few minutes to look around. I was almost certain the piece of wood was the murder weapon. From the mark on Wendall’s forehead, I figured he must have known his assailant for anyone to get close enough to hit him. If I wanted to attack a man that large, I would’ve tried to come from behind. Wendall’s murderer must have been someone he knew and someone who took him completely by surprise.
The light was too dim to examine the scene quickly, and before Jerry and I had the chance to check the rest of the yard, a police car drove up. Chief Brenner was first on the scene, followed by the ambulance.
As Nell explained matters to her father, she managed to get control of her voice. “I called Madeline to help me hang some pictures. We were taking out the trash when we found him. You might want to have a word with Larissa Norton. We saw her car driving away.”
I pointed out the piece of wood. “Looks like he was hit by that. It’s the kind of wood Bea Ricter uses for her picture frames, so you might want to talk to her, too.”
Chief Brenner gave me a sharp glance. “Anything else?”
I could truthfully say no.
“All right. On your way home, stop by the station and give them your full statement. You, too, Jerry, and you, Nell. Are you all right?”
She took off her cap to give her hair a brief swipe, then put her cap back on. This simple act steadied her. “It was a real cowardly act, Dad. Never expected someone so big and full of life as Wendall to die like this.”
My thoughts exactly. No matter what opinion people had of him, Wendall Clarke had been a force of nature, and to see him lying crumpled on the ground had been a shock.
“You gotta catch his murderer, Dad.”
The chief was not pleased someone had killed a prominent hometown man. “I plan to.”
“Can we go with you when you tell Flora?” I asked him. “She doesn’t have many friends in town.”
“Yes. Wait for me at the station.”
Wendall’s body was taken away, and the piece of wood bagged as evidence.
After we gave our statements to the police, Jerry and I went with the chief to the Clarkes’ house. Flora met us at the door, and as Chief Brenner explained what had happened, she shuddered and began to cry. I put my arm around her shoulders.
“Come sit down, Flora. We’ll find out who did this.”
Her voice caught on her sobs. “I thought it would be me. These were Wendall’s friends. I know they weren’t happy with him, but he knew them. He went to school with them. I’m the stranger. Why didn’t they kill me instead?”
I led her into the living room, and we sat down together on the sofa. “We’re not certain it was someone who knew Wendall.” Although I thought the odds were good it was.
The chief got out a notepad. “When did your husband leave the house this evening, Mrs. Clarke?”
“A little after eight.”
“Did he say where he was going? Was he meeting someone?”
“He said he was going to the gallery, that’s all. He usually likes me to go with him, but he said I didn’t need to come this time, and he’d be right back.” When she realized Wendall would never be right back, she collapsed into tears.
The chief waited until she was able to speak again, his small blue eyes showing sympathy. “What happened after the meeting this afternoon? Did anyone say anything to him that you might have perceived as a threat?”
“N-no, they were all making appointments with Sasha, and they seemed glad to do it.”
“I have to ask where you’ve been all evening.”
She gulped back more tears. “I’ve been here by myself. You have to believe I would never hurt my husband.”
“It’s a question I have to ask.”
“There’s no one who can vouch for me. I haven’t got a single friend in this town. Madeline’s the only one who’s been kind to me. Madeline.” She looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “I want you to find out who killed Wendall.”
I could tell the chief wasn’t happy. “The police will handle this investigation, Mrs. Clarke.”
“I want all the help I can possibly get. I can afford it. Madeline, will you take the job?”
I ignored the chief’s glare. “Of course.”
He tried to talk Flora out of it, but she stayed firm. Finally he agreed as long as I promised not to get in the way. Flora wanted to see Wendall, and Jerry and I went along to support her. Afterward, I asked if there was a relative or friend she could call who could stay with her, or if she’d care to come to my house for the night.
She caught both my hands in hers. “I’ll be fine, Madeline, thank you so much. I’m going to call my sister. She lives near Parkland and can be here in about twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be glad to stay with you until she gets here.”
“No, no. You’ve done more than enough for me. I’ll talk with you tomorrow. I want to be alone for a little while.”
***
“Well,” Jerry said as we got into the car, “what was that about not enough work for you in Celosia?”
“I’d better be careful what I wish for.” My hands began to tremble, and Jerry took the keys.
“Let me drive.”
We switched places, and I sat back into the passenger’s seat and fumbled with my belt. “It’s like Nell said, Wendall was big and full of life, and for someone to murder him like that…” I didn’t know what else to say. I finally got my seat belt fastened, and we started for home.
Jerry gave me a few minutes. “So what do you think, Mac?”
Time to think like an investigator. Don’t think about Wendall’s lifeless body. Think about how you can solve this. “The wood is from Bea Ricter’s frames, but Wendall was a tall man, and Bea’s very short. She would’ve had to jump up to hit him on the forehead. Same thing with Flora. But Larissa’s tall enough and angry enough to have done it.”
“He just stood there and let her do it?”
“I suppose if she took him by surprise, and he didn’t see it coming.”
“What about Flora?”
“You heard her. She doesn’t have an alibi, and she knew Wendall was going to the gallery. Wendall left for the gallery around eight o’clock and told Flora he’d be right back. Nell met us there at eight-thirty, right before we found him, so whoever killed him worked quickly.”
“My money’s on Larissa, then. Motive and opportunity and her car at the scene of the crime.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Good luck,” Jerry said. “Even when she’s not a suspect, she looks capable of murder.”
But since opening my agency, I’d found out anyone was capable of murder. It was the people who actually went through with their plans you had to stop, and that’s what I was determined to do.