Back in my office, I called the theater to speak to Evan. I asked him if Larissa Norton wanted to be musical director for the show.
“She told me she didn’t want to do it,” he said. “She said her health wasn’t good and she wanted some time off. Actually, she left us in the lurch. If Jerry hadn’t been available, I’m not sure who we could’ve called.”
“You’re absolutely sure she doesn’t want the job?”
“Yes. And just between you and me, Madeline, I am very relieved. Larissa is a wonderful musician, but she can be extremely difficult to work with. At least with Jerry, I know we won’t have to put up with screaming fits and hurt feelings. And he plays just as well as Larissa, maybe better.”
“I don’t think he’s conducted an orchestra before.”
“I’m sure he can handle that. The people I asked him to call have all had experience playing for musicals. They’ll love him. He worked with several of them on Music Man. I don’t think there will be any problems.”
It always worries me when someone says that.
“Thanks, Evan. What happened to How to Succeed in Business? I thought that was the next show.” The Music Man director had been certain Jerry had a lock on the lead role in How to Succeed as the conniving young man who schemed his way to the top. The director hadn’t known this would have been perfect typecasting.
“We found out Parkland and Abbingdon both planned to do that show, so we changed our plans. People love Oklahoma. I think we could do it every year. Will we see you at tryouts tomorrow night? You’d make a convincing Laurie, or even Ado Annie.”
My days on stage were over, thank goodness. “Only to drop off Jerry.”
After I hung up, I had a phone call from someone I hadn’t heard from in years, an old pageant pal, a veteran of the pageant wars.
“Madeline! It’s a voice from the past, Miss Little Valley Princess Supreme!”
I recognized Billamena Tyson’s voice right away. After all, how many times had I heard her bellow “Tomorrow” from Annie for her talent? “Billamena.” Isn’t that name sad? Her mother had wanted something original. “Billie, where in the world have you been hiding? It must be ten years since I saw you last.”
“It took me that long to pry my mother off my arm! I had to beat her over the head with my tiara to make her let go.” Billie’s raucous laugh made me hold the phone away from my ear. She’d been a large, aggressive little girl whose mother, like mine, had insisted she be in pageants. Billie had enjoyed the experience as much as I did.
“At least you and your mother are close. Mine hardly speaks to me.”
“I wish mine didn’t! Do you know she’s still after me to be Mrs. America? I have purposely put on fifty pounds to save myself. But I hear you’ve truly broken the mold and become an investigator! How exciting!”
“Thanks. And what are you up to these days?”
“Nothing so bold. I married a great guy, second marriage for both of us, no kids yet, and I work as a secretary at an insurance firm. But I didn’t call to talk about the good old days of way too much makeup on our poor little baby faces. I hear you married Jerry Fairweather.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Congratulations! And is he still doing those little games of his?”
I thought of the scheduled séance at Deely’s and tried not to sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Oh, but that’s good news, Madeline, because I need his help.”
What could she possibly need Jerry’s help for? I was afraid to ask. “Do you need to speak to the dearly departed?”
“What?”
“Jerry holds fake séances—did hold fake séances. His very last one is tonight if you want to get in on it.”
“No, not that. My husband and I were conned, and I want Jerry to find the people who did it. Or maybe you could find them! Let me hire you.”
“I’d be happy to let you hire me, Billie, but I’d need to have all the details. Where are you? Can we meet somewhere?”
“I live on the other side of Parkland on Pumpkin Lane. Do you know where that is?”
My mother’s neighborhood. “Yes, I do.”
“How about tomorrow evening around six?”
“All right. I’ll bring Jerry along as creative consultant.”
“Wonderful, thanks! I’ll dust off my many Ultimate Grand Supreme crowns so you’ll be jealous!”
***
When I got home, Denisha Simpson was waiting on the front porch. Denisha, a self-possessed little black girl, and her best friend, Austin, an energetic little white boy, had adopted Jerry as their older brother and were often at the house, usually around mealtimes.
“Well, hello, Denisha.”
“Hi, Madeline. Jerry’s practicing the piano for Oklahoma.”
From the front parlor window, I could hear a pretty good attempt at the title song. “Are you trying out for it?”
“I don’t know if there are any kids in it, but yeah, I might.”
“What about Austin? He might like to be a cowboy.”
“No. He thinks it’s silly. And he’s the reason I’m here today. I need to ask you something.”
“Sure. Have a seat.”
Denisha sat down in one of the rocking chairs. Her dark brown eyes were serious. “You know that Austin and I are going to Camp Lakenwood this summer.”
“Yes, I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m much more excited than Austin. He thought camp would be boring without TV and video games. This was before he found out Kennedy was going, too.”
“Kennedy?”
“Kennedy Marshall. She’s in our class. All the boys like her, and I know why.”
I knew the girl Denisha was talking about. I’d often wondered what possessed her parents to name their daughter after a president partly known for his assassination. I expected Denisha to comment on Kennedy’s flowing blond hair and shiny pink perfection. I was ready with the Everyone is Beautiful in Her Own Special Way speech.
“She’s got that new Wow System,” Denisha said. “It’s like Wii, only better. Austin’s into that.”
“Oh.”
“He’s been over at her house every afternoon. He doesn’t want to ride bikes or play in the creek or nothing.” She sighed. “I tell you, I’m at my wit’s end.”
I tried not to smile. I’d heard Denisha’s aunt use that expression many times when dealing with her niece. “I think the newness will soon wear off,” I suggested.
Denisha dug into the pocket of her shorts. “I want to hire you, Madeline.”
“What would you like me to do?”
She unfolded three dollar bills. “Find out if Kennedy is Austin’s girlfriend.”
“Couldn’t you just ask him?”
“I don’t want him to think I care.”
“I see.”
Denisha gave me a very grown up look. “You know what it’s like, Madeline. You and Jerry were best friends before you got married, and when he was hanging around with another girl, you weren’t very happy about it.”
“That’s because she was not the right one for him.”
“Exactly. And Kennedy Marshall is not the right one for Austin, only he’s too dumb to see it, just like Jerry was.”
I had to chuckle. “You’ve made your point.”
She indicated the dollar bills. “Is that enough?”
“More than enough.”
“Thanks, Madeline. When can I expect results?”
“I’ll get on it right away.”
Denisha stood and shook my hand. “Thank you.” She went down the porch steps, picked up her bike, and rode away.
Jerry came to the door. “All clear? Looked like some serious girl talk.”
“Come on out.” He propped himself on the porch rail. ”Denisha has hired me to find out if Austin and Kennedy Marshall are an item,” I said.
“Kennedy Marshall? Male or female?”
“A female classmate. A very pretty blonde classmate with the latest video game system.”
“Uh, oh.”
“The pretty blondes are on the move today.” I explained about Wendall Clarke, Flora, and Larissa Norton.
“That’s eerie. It sounds exactly like what I’ve been listening to lately, The Ballad of Baby Doe.”
“Okay, I don’t know that one.”
Jerry has a fondness for opera, and it’s odd sometimes how the stories reflect what’s going on with my cases. “It’s based on a true story. Horace Tabor made a fortune back in the 1800s in silver mines. He left his wife to marry a beautiful woman nicknamed Baby Doe. The opera’s about the relationships of those three people.”
“I’m guessing the ex-wife wasn’t very happy with Horace.”
“She has some particularly scathing songs to sing. She refused to divorce Horace, so it was quite a scandal when he took up with another woman. In the opera, everybody shuns them, the silver mine fails, Tabor goes crazy—”
“And everybody dies.”
“Yep. Beverly Sills was the composer’s favorite Baby Doe. You’ve got to hear this aria.”
The downstairs parlor used to be where Jerry held his séances. He surprised me by hiring Nell to paint the walls bright yellow, and then he parked a gleaming golden-brown baby grand piano in one corner. He went inside his music room to root through his CDs. After a while, a beautiful soprano voice soared to impossibly high notes. Jerry came back to the porch. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s gorgeous.”
“It’s called ‘The Willow Song.’ That’s what Baby Doe is singing when Tabor first sees her. Love at first sight for both of them, although Baby Doe knows he’s the richest man in Colorado, so I think she was a bit of a schemer.”
“This is too strange,” I said. “Wendall calls Flora ‘Baby.’”
Jerry laughed. “Baby Flo! Perfect.”
“What exactly happens in this opera? Does anyone get murdered? I want to be ready.”
“No. There’s a lot of singing about gold becoming more popular than silver, and Tabor backs the wrong man for president, so there’s a lot of singing about that, too. At the end of the opera, Tabor is broke and ill. He spends a long time having a breakdown and dies in Baby Doe’s arms. The real Baby Doe froze to death in her cabin at the silver mine.”
“These stories are always so cheerful. What about the ex-wife?”
“Her name is Augusta, and when Tabor loses everything, she sings about wanting to help him because she still loves him, but she doesn’t go back to him.”
“I seriously doubt Larissa wants to go back to Wendall. She won the gold medal in the If Looks Could Kill competition today. She even had one for me.”
“You? What did you do?”
“I’m married to the man who took her theater job. Evan says she often pulls this trick so he’ll beg her to stay.”
“Too bad. It’s my job now,” he said. “I like Oklahoma. It’s not as stirring as Ballad of Baby Doe, but at least everyone comes out of it alive—no, wait, everyone except Jud, but he’s a complete villain. No one’s really evil in Baby Doe.”
The music had changed from Beverly Sills’ glorious soprano to a strident female voice singing her demands and wanting to know what Horace Tabor had been up to. I didn’t even know this opera and I felt sorry for him.
“When are Oklahoma rehearsals?”
“Tryouts are tomorrow night, and rehearsals will be every weeknight from seven until nine or ten.”
That should cut down on Jerry’s scheming time. “What about the Christmas cantata?”
“‘The Glory of Christmas’ is in the bag. I called the church this morning to tell them I’d do it.”
“Can you do both productions?”
“Sure. You know how Wednesdays are around here.”
I had been surprised to find out that Wednesday nights in Celosia most people went to church, usually for choir practice, but also for family night dinners and Bible study groups. “So Evan will let you off on Wednesday night?”
“Up until the last two weeks. Oklahoma opens the end of November, and the cantata’s not until December fourteenth.”
I felt a sense of relief. Two things to keep him occupied. No, wait, I’d almost forgotten about Billie. “There’s something else you can do,” I said. “My friend Billie Tyson called and told me she and her husband had been the victims of a con. She’d like to hire both of us to find the people responsible.”
“What happened?”
“We’re going to meet tomorrow so she can fill me in. Sound interesting?”
“I’ll be glad to help. How about your other case? Anything new to report?”
“The search is on for Pamela’s missing letter.”
“Any clues?”
“Nothing exciting. It’s buried in mounds of papers she’s been collecting for most of her adult life. I have to sift through several file boxes and stacks.”
“What’s so important about it? Are we going to get to solve another riddle?”
“Again, nothing as thrilling as a mysterious riddle. The letter gives her permission to build onto her shop.”
“So we both have jobs. Peace reigns once again in the Fairweather household.”
“I’m taking advantage of this peace to do a little art,” I said.
Uncle Val had used the upstairs parlor as his study. When we first saw it, it was a typical Victorian parlor with overstuffed chairs, a marble-topped table, an old phonograph, and bookshelves filled with leather-bound copies of the classics. I kept the table with its fancy glass lamp and the bookshelves, but the phonograph and chairs went to an antique dealer. I moved in my easels, paper, and art supplies and converted the space into a studio. The light was perfect, and there was plenty of room to spread out my projects and leave them until I’d finished. I was halfway through a landscape of the fields around our house and spent a constructive hour shading in some grass and getting the clouds just the way I wanted them. In this blissful state, I forgot about Wendall and Larissa, Pamela’s letter, Denisha’s concerns, even poor frozen Baby Doe. But something nagged at the back of my thoughts. I finally put down my brush and gave the picture a critical look. It wasn’t the picture. The picture was coming along fine.
It was my growing indecisiveness about children. For years I’d been completely against having a baby, and I’d told everyone there was no way I was going to change my mind. Now I wasn’t so sure. A little boy would be all right, but my mother would snatch up a little girl and try to turn her into a pageant princess, just as she’d done to me. No, Jerry and I wouldn’t let that happen. Our little girl could be an artist, or a musician, or even a private investigator.
Wait. What was I saying? I was not going to have a baby! My wonderful, orderly life, remember? Investigate, paint, sit on the porch, repeat as necessary. That’s what I liked. Having a baby would change all that.
But you could handle it, my little inner voice said in a wheedling tone. You’re a strong woman who can handle anything, as your husband pointed out, and you could definitely keep your child out of your mother’s clutches.
“Be quiet,” I told the little voice. “No baby. Not now.”
Just as Jerry announced supper was ready, and I came down the stairs, Austin Terrell and a little blonde girl rode up the pathway through the field and parked their bikes under one of the large oak trees in our front yard. Austin’s hair was in its usual colorful spikes, but he didn’t come galloping into the house in his usual rodeo style. He waited for the girl and knocked politely on the screen door.
I let them in. “Hello, Austin.”
“Hi, Madeline.” He turned to the girl beside him. “This is my friend, Kennedy Marshall.”
“Hello, Kennedy,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
She shook my hand. She was indeed a beautiful little girl with a sweet smile. She was dressed all in pink, her blond hair held back with a pink headband.
“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Fairweather.”
“You can call her Madeline,” Austin said. “She doesn’t mind. Is Jerry here?”
“He’s in the kitchen.”
I followed them to the kitchen where Austin made his introductions, and Jerry asked Kennedy if she’d like to stay for supper.
“No, thank you,” she said. “As soon as my mom picks up my sisters from piano practice, we’re all going to Deely’s.”
“Kennedy has three sisters,” Austin said. “Madison, Tyler, and Reagan.”
“Are your parents interested in politics?” Jerry asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “How did you know?”
Austin obviously had a plan. “I wanted Kennedy to meet you, Jerry, ‘cause I knew you’d be interested in seeing the Wow System in action, so maybe we could bring it over sometime.”
“Sure,” he said.
Austin grinned at Kennedy. “See? I told you he’d say yes. Well, we gotta go. See you later.”
There didn’t seem to be anything romantic about Austin’s behavior, but I had to find out. At the door, I said, “Austin, hang on a second. I have some more paper for you.”
Austin had shown a talent for sketching and liked the type of drawing paper I had. I went upstairs and grabbed a handful. As I’d hoped, Kennedy went on out to her bike while Austin waited on the porch.
“I see you have a girlfriend, Austin.”
He looked scornful. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
I didn’t think so. “She’s awfully pretty.”
“She’s got the only Wow in town. That’s the only reason I hang out with her. Thanks for the paper.”
“Well,” I told Jerry when I returned to the kitchen, “that’s the easiest case I ever solved.”
“So Denisha has nothing to worry about?”
“Austin said the only reason he hangs out with Kennedy is because she’s got the only Wow in town.”
Jerry grinned and gave me a kiss. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
I returned the favor. “Thank you. What’s for supper?”
“Chicken and rice.”
I helped myself to a large portion and brought my plate to the table. There was a stack of envelopes next to the butter dish. “Is this today’s mail? I hope there aren’t any bills.”
“I didn’t see any.”
There was one envelope addressed to both of us. The return address was a post office box in Parkland. “Any idea what this might be?”
He brought his plate over and sat down. “Nope. I thought I’d wait till you got home to open it.”
“Looks serious.” I opened the envelope, took out the letter, and read it. “Oh, my lord.” It was serious. “What’s this? Jerry, you’re being sued!”
“What?” He came around for a better look. As he read, his eyes got wide. “What the hell?”
“This claims you cheated some woman named Denby Forest out of her life’s savings. You said you weren’t going to do this anymore! You promised.”
“Mac, I swear on my life I had nothing to do with this. I never met a Denby Forest. I never cheated anyone out of their life’s savings.”
I was so angry and upset, I was shaking. Last month, someone Jerry had scammed recognized him and sent her very large boyfriend to collect what Jerry owed her. Fortunately, I had enough money to pay off this man before Jerry became part of the pavement. “How many of these past mistakes are we going to have to deal with?”
He reread the letter. “I’m telling you I didn’t do this—here, wait a minute. Look. It isn’t something from my past. Check out the date.”
The paper stated that Jeremyn Nicholas Fairweather had performed a séance in Millersberg on August 15, whereby he allegedly spoke to her dead uncle and had convinced Denby Forest the uncle wanted her to invest all her money in Double Delite Doughnuts. She did. Double Delite Doughnuts immediately went under, taking her savings with it. She was suing us for a million dollars.
“Think about it,” Jerry said. “August 15. Where was I? Here with you trying to fix up my house. When did I ever go to Millersberg? I don’t even know where that is.”
I was trying to be calm. “Okay, maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity. Maybe there’s another con man with the same name.” Which was highly unlikely.
“Mac, I never use my real name, especially not my full name. This is somebody who knows me.”
“That’s even worse.”
The letter had been typed on high quality paper. At the top was the name “Hadley Boyles, Attorney At Law,” the post office box address, and a phone number.
“We’d better clear this up right away.” I took out my cell phone and called the number. A recorded voice said, “Thank you for calling the law offices of Hadley Boyles. Our office hours are nine to five, Monday through Friday. If you’d like to leave a message, please do so after the beep. Thank you.” The recording beeped, but I didn’t leave a message. “They’re closed for today, and I’d rather speak to a real person.”
Jerry had his own cell phone in hand. “If there is one. I’m calling around.”
“You think this is some sort of scam? Why would this woman try to con us out of a million dollars when it’s obvious we don’t have that kind of money?”`
“I know this is some sort of scam.”
I thought of something else. “Wasn’t Nell working here on the fifteenth? She could provide you with an alibi.”
“I’m not going to need an alibi.”
“Jerry, what if this is real?”
He had started to punch in a number. He paused. “Mac, believe me, I’m speaking from experience. Somebody’s trying to scare us.”
“Do you have any idea who might be using your name?”
“I’m checking with Del right now.”
Del was one of Jerry’s friends in Parkland. He owned a pawn shop and seemed like a reasonable fellow. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”
“No, but he’ll know who’s in town.”
I listened as Jerry held a terse conversation with Del. “Just let me know, okay?” Jerry said. “This had to be sometime this summer. Is Frankie out yet? How about Allan?” He listened for a while. “Could she be holding a grudge?” He laughed. “You’re kidding! Okay. Thanks.” He closed his phone. “Del says it sounds like something Honor Perkins would do. He’s going to ask around.”
This was getting even more absurd. “Wait a minute. Honor Perkins? There’s a con woman named Honor?”
“Nice, huh?”
“Will you please tell me exactly what is going on?”
“I’m not sure, but Honor may still be mad at me for a little incident that happened a while ago. This may be her way of trying to get back. This letter doesn’t look like a real summons. It’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll take care of it.”
I gave him a long hard stare. He looked so innocent and unconcerned I could see why fooling people came easily to him. After a while, I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I accused you so quickly, but honestly, your reputation doesn’t make things easy.”
“My former reputation, Mac. I have a new one now, remember? Camp Counselor Jerry Fairweather?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I just hate for things like this to keep happening.”
“Like I said, I’ll take care of it.”