Death by Dragonfly Page 19

  “Want some of this cake? It’s Luella’s special brown sugar pound cake.”

  Carefully juggling a plate and the cups, I returned to find Kary had positioned herself on the other end of the quilt, away from Nancy, who was inundated by Garcias.

  At my look of inquiry, Kary took her cup and grinned. “I told the Garcias that Nancy was on the lookout for a husband. They have five eligible sons in the family.”

  “You are a wicked woman.”

  She corrected me. “A possessive woman.”

  “Have you set the date?”

  She punched my shoulder. “You know that was just for show.”

  “Can I help it if all women want me?”

  “Get real. She wants you on her side if and when things go south.”

  Out on the ball field, Camden caught a fly ball, bringing the sixth inning to a close. This reminded me of my plot. “Don’t panic if you see Graber’s pythons in the backyard again. They’re planning a surprise visit to reboot Camden’s system.”

  She shivered, which gave me an excuse to pull her closer. “I will not stand in their way. Is Graber going to stay at the PSN?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “If we put our brains together, we can think of a way to oust him.”

  “First of all, ten points for ‘oust.’ Second, we’ve got bigger problems.”

  I thought of my suspects and victims. I was running low on both. I had to find proof that Richard Mason had killed Samuel Gallant and Lawrence Stein and stolen Pierson’s artwork, possibly aided by Nancy Piper, in the hopes of scoring the big money. I still couldn’t believe Pierson had anything to do with the crimes. I couldn’t believe Camden was taking drugs. I couldn’t believe I was sitting here, no further along on the case than before with only three days left.

  That night, I dreamed of Lindsey. She’d been skipping rope with some other little girls and left them to come to me.

  Are you looking for someone else, Daddy?

  “Yes, a woman named Norma Gallant.”

  Delores usually talks to the grownups. I’ll ask her.

  “Ask her if there are any other people who owned the dragonfly car mascot and if they’d be willing to talk to me.”

  I thought I’d have to wait until another night for her reply, but she shimmered, disappeared, and then reappeared all in the space of a few seconds.

  Norma is singing. She’s very happy because her husband is here, too.

  I felt like slapping myself. I hadn’t even considered I might be able to contact Gallant.

  “Lindsey, can you get them to talk to me?”

  I’ll try.

  “What about Isabelle? Is she still there?”

  I’ll look. But Cam isn’t singing. You have to help him.

  “He’s not being very cooperative.”

  You can do it, Daddy. I know you can.

  Words that kept me going.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind”

  No one else came through that night. Thursday morning we were all up around nine, except Ellin, who left at God-knows-when to defend her territory. At breakfast, Camden apologized for his bad mood. After the church supper, he’d put in his time at the psychic fair and hadn’t experienced any problems, so he felt fine.

  I looked closely in his eyes for the lights that indicated he was lying. “No more Tranquillon?”

  “No more Tranquillon.”

  All clear. Still, he seemed a bit off. I wasn’t going to cancel Slim and Jim just yet.

  Vermillion talked cheerfully of her fun night with Wally. “We’re going out to lunch today,” she said through a mouth full of crunchy cereal. “Wally says he knows a funky place where we can hang loose.”

  Not a picture I wanted in my mind this morning. “Sounds like a cool scene.”

  She turned to Camden. “Think it’d be okay for me to crash at his place, Cam? I’m sure it’s way better than the commune.”

  “You could see if you like it, and if not, you can always come back here.”

  “Thanks.” She poured more cereal into her bowl. “I told Wally to meet me in the park this morning. I want everyone to meet him. It’ll be a blast from the past.”

  Kary wandered in wearing her white bathrobe.

  “Everything working in the shower?” Camden asked.

  “No problem.”

  “Wally’s the best,” Vermillion said proudly. “I’ll bet every one of his pipes is in good working order.”

  There was no straight answer for this, so I kept quiet.

  Kary gave me a smile that said ‘good choice,’ and sat down next to Camden at the counter. “What’s the plan for the day?”

  I typed a search on my phone. “The Riverside Museum in Torrance, Virginia. It’s where Nancy Piper used to work. I’d like to know more about her and why she left.”

  The Riverside Museum was located at 1026 Riverside Drive, and, according to its website, housed a splendid collection of Civil War art and letters. The current director was Joyce Maxwell. I called and asked to speak to Ms. Maxwell.

  Ms. Maxwell sounded calm and efficient, with the slightest hint of a lisp.

  “Joyce Maxwell. How can I help you?”

  “My name is David Randall, and I’m curator for the Baxter Museum here in Parkland. You may not have heard of the Baxter. We’re new and small, and we specialize in Civil War artifacts.” And barbecue. “I was told you’re an expert in this area.”

  “I know something about it, yes.”

  “I understand you have a Nancy Piper on staff who is also an expert?”

  Ms. Maxwell’s tone changed. “Nancy Piper is no longer with Riverside. You can reach her at the Parkland Museum. However, she doesn’t know anything about Civil War collections. She’s a business manager. When she was here, she handled our accounts and donations.”

  “So she’s director at the Parkland Museum?” I asked to see what Ms. Maxwell would say.

  There was an edge to the efficient voice now, the lisp more pronounced.

  “No. Nancy Piper does not have the skills or qualifications to be any sort of director. In fact, I’m a little surprised they hired her to do anything more than manage the books.”

  “Was there some problem?”

  “She was quite vocal when she wasn’t chosen to head up acquisitions for our new department. I hope she’s happier at Parkland and receiving the attention she thinks she deserves. We had strong words, I’m afraid, so when the offer came from Parkland, our board of directors encouraged her to take it.”

  “Ms. Maxwell, I also have a particular interest in Art Nouveau. Do you have any?”

  “We have some beautiful posters and glassware, as well as a stunning brooch of a butterfly woman. You should come have a look.”

  “You don’t by any chance have any of Lalique’s car mascots, such as a glass dragonfly?”

  “No, no dragonfly.”

  “I’d like to see your collection.”

  “Please come visit. We’re open until five today.”

  I thanked her and hung up. “According to Ms. Maxwell, she and Nancy had a difference of opinion, and Ms. Piper was encouraged to take the job in Parkland. Ms. Maxwell says she’s only qualified to do museum finances. If I can get ahold of Pierson, I’ll take him to Riverside to make sure none of the items there are his. Who’s up for a road trip?”

  “I have to work,” Camden said.

  “And I have Music Festival this morning and preliminary swim suit tonight,” Kary said

  “Well, you two are useless. I’ll have to detect on my own.”

  “Not necessarily,” she said. “While you’re gone, I’ll keep working on the word puzzle.”

  We kissed to seal the deal, and I called Pierson. For once, my prodigal client was home and agreed to be
ready in thirty minutes for a journey to the Riverside Museum.

  Torrance, Virginia, was only a few miles over the state line. I had plenty of time to get there as soon as I swung past Amber Street.

  Pierson arranged himself in the passenger seat of the Fury. “I certainly don’t feel comfortable being alone in my house today.”

  “I thought you had a new alarm system installed.”

  “Yes, and I’ve been staring at my empty parlor long enough. It’s time for some action.”

  I didn’t want to get his hopes up. “There’s no guarantee any of the stuff at Riverside is yours.”

  “I know. Still, an excellent idea. How is Cam today? Couldn’t he join us?”

  “He’s at work.”

  “He reminds me a great deal of my friend, the one I was talking about.”

  “The one who was haunted?” That was a pretty good description of Camden these days.

  “An overactive imagination, I fear. We actors are highly strung.”

  When I didn’t reel back in amazement, he felt compelled to explain. “I am an actor, you know.”

  “You’ve made that perfectly clear. Okay, so who do you think is murdering people?”

  “Perhaps Lawrence Stein faked his own death in order to pick them off.” At my skeptical glance, he added, “You’re supposed to choose the least likely suspect.”

  “That would be you.”

  “But I don’t want anyone dead! I want my treasures back. I also have a perfectly good alibi. I know you’ve talked with Francine. She told you I was with her, didn’t she?”

  “She could be lying to protect you.”

  “That’s preposterous! How can you be so suspicious?”

  “It’s my job to think like that.”

  Pierson was offended, and a sudden thunderstorm kept my attention on driving, so we didn’t say anything else. My job. It was a great job, wasn’t it? Here I was, driving to Virginia with a bug-eyed actor looking for a glass dragonfly.

  Pierson felt the need to quote again. “‘Heavens, drop your patience down! You see me here, ye gods, a poor old man, as full of grief as age, wretched in both.’” When I gave him the eye, he clarified. “King Lear, Act Two, scene four.”

  “Thanks.”

  He wasn’t finished. “But perhaps more appropriate, from Act Three, scene one: ‘I am a man more sinned against than sinning.’”

  More sinned against than sinning. I hoped he was right.

  The storm had blown itself out by the time we reached Torrance. At the Riverside Museum I parked the car, and we got out. The first thing we heard was a discordant clanging sound like a wind chime badly out of tune. A strange rusty looking sculpture with several sections about three feet long dangled from a hook set in a block of concrete. There was something familiar about it.

  As Pierson and I stood looking at it, a small trim woman all in black came out of the museum and met us on the lawn. She noticed us regarding the sculpture.

  “Not a particularly attractive piece, is it?”

  I recognized her lisp. “Are you Joyce Maxwell? I’m David Randall from the Baxter Museum. We spoke earlier.”

  “Oh, yes. So glad you could come over.”

  I gestured to the spastic wind chime. “The artist’s name wouldn’t happen to be Mason, would it?”

  “My heavens, don’t tell me he’s that well known.”

  “I’ve seen some of his later work.”

  “Yes, this is by Richard Mason. He’s supposed to come pick it up, but I guess he’s been too busy at his new job at the Little Gallery in Parkland. This is Anguished Fortitude.”

  Anguished Fortitude grated in the breeze. Joyce Maxwell winced. “I try to be open-minded, but I can’t see any artistic merit in this piece. I’ll be glad when it’s gone.”

  “We’ll be glad to take it to him.”

  She pointed to the top of the building. “I don’t suppose you’d care to climb on the roof and take that one, too?” A strange spiky object jutted up, a metal ball on the tip. “Although I have to admit it makes a decent lightning rod.”

  I introduced Pierson. “We wanted to see your Art Nouveau.”

  “Right this way.”

  Like Joyce Maxwell, the Riverside Museum was trim and neat. Everything was clearly marked with white cards in black frames. While Pierson drooled over the bright glass vases and flowing, wiggly chairs, I asked Ms. Maxwell about Richard Mason and found out he had also worked at the museum.

  “For a short while,” she said, “we displayed his work, but the response was so negative, we felt it best not to have any permanent collection. He wasn’t happy about that, so we tried to appease him by having Anguished Fortitude on the lawn. When the position at the Little Gallery opened, we were relieved when he applied for that position and was accepted. It saved everyone a lot of grief.”

  “So the split was amicable?”

  “Oh, yes, Richard was always civil, but his vision and our vision didn’t match.”

  As if Mason’s vision would match with anyone’s. “What was his relationship with Nancy Piper, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “They’re related in some way.”

  This was news. “Related?”

  “Cousins, I believe, although the way they fussed at each other, you’d think they were brother and sister. They had very different ideas about art.”

  But maybe the same idea about theft and murder. “Do you know if Mason had any family members named Duvall?” At her curious frown, I added, “We may be related, too.”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Ours was a purely business relationship. He never talked about his family.”

  “Randall,” Pierson said. “Come look at this pin. It is exquisite.”

  “Is it yours?”

  “No. Would that it were!”

  “I’ll look at it in a minute.”

  “Randall, these lamps! I’m in heaven!”

  Ms. Maxwell smiled at his enthusiasm. “Perhaps you’d like to see our Civil War collection now, Mr. Randall.”

  Not really. The only war I ever found interesting was War of the Worlds. I was anxious to return to Parkland and see how this new information fit into what I already knew. Still, I followed Ms. Maxwell from exhibit to exhibit and listened as she explained where this cannonball had been found and how this poor soldier had died and why these fragments were so important, when they all looked like dirt.

  “This is an excellent collection, Ms. Maxwell. First rate. You’ll have to come to the Baxter some day and help us with our dioramas.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “We’ll haul Anguished Fortitude back to Mr. Mason, if you’d like. And should I take your greetings to Ms. Piper?”

  She gave me a look. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Climbing up onto the roof wasn’t in my plans for today. We left the spiky lightning rod. Pierson helped me unhook Anguished Fortitude and fold it into the trunk. It made a lot of noise. All anguish and no fortitude.

  Chapter Twenty

  “No Longer Mourn For Me”

  Kary sent a text to let me know she was still at the Music Festival, so after taking Pierson home, I drove downtown to the Performing Arts Center, a shiny glass-and-metal building with a faceted dome that covered the inside performance space. The sound of someone over-emoting in song led me to Younger Hall, a vast circular room filled with rows of seats facing a gleaming white stage, where rehearsals were in full swing.

  Kary sat with the same severe woman who’d come to the house. “David, over here.” She introduced me to the woman, whose name was Anya. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Anya?”

  Anya gave us a gracious nod. Kary led me up the aisle.

  “How are you managing this and the pageant?” I asked. “I know you’re a superhero, but don’t you have to bend time to fi
t everything in?”

  “I’ve got it all figured out. The festival rehearsals are during the day, while all pageant rehearsals are at night. The pageant is Saturday night, and the festival is all day Sunday.”

  “But as the newly crowned Miss Panorama, won’t your duties interfere?”

  She laughed. “I’m not Miss Panorama yet, and all she does is wave and smile at ball games and supermarket openings.” She pushed open the glass door. “We have to keep our phones off inside. Any progress on the case?”

  “According to Joyce Maxwell at the Riverside Museum, everyone was glad to see Richard Mason and Nancy Piper move on to other museums. She also told me they are related, cousins, she thinks. We need to find out if Mason’s family includes any Duvalls.”

  We stayed in the shade of the center’s ornamental trees as Kary clicked on phone.

  “This might take a while.” She glanced at the time. “I’d better get back to Anya, but I’ll keep looking.”

  “I’m heading back to the Parkland Museum to see what Nancy has to say.”

  She smiled a teasing smile. “You sure you don’t want to come back in and listen for a while?”

  “No, thanks. One serving of ‘O cessate,’ or whatever that was, is enough.”

  “‘O cessate di piagarmi.’”

  “Which means?”

  “‘Please stop bothering me.’ It sounds better in Italian.”

  Please stop bothering me is probably what Nancy Piper was thinking. As I approached her office, I could hear her quarreling with someone. Slowing my steps, I recognized Richard Mason’s angry voice.

  “I don’t care what you think, I’m going to do it.”

  “We’ve been through this,” Nancy said. “What you want to do is stupid and selfish. It isn’t part of the plan.”

  “To hell with the plan! They don’t have any of the artwork, and even if they did, they’ll never figure out the puzzle.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Richard, we haven’t figured out the puzzle, either.”

  “Because of that dragonfly! I keep telling you, it’s the key.”