Evil Turns Read online

  So I was the bouncer, too. “Okay.”

  She crammed her phone in her pocketbook and wedged out her checkbook. “I really appreciate this, Madeline. If all goes well, I’ll recommend you to my friends.”

  “Thank you.” Madeline Maclin, Security to the Suburbs. I told her my fee, and she wrote a check.

  “Oh, and one other thing. I’m missing a very expensive Louis Vuitton purse. While you’re on duty, see if you can learn anything.”

  “Where did you last see your purse?”

  “I can’t remember!” She gave a little laugh. “I have so many purses, I didn’t miss this one until recently. I suppose I could do without it, but it’s one of my favorites. It’s beige with a brown handle and a lovely sparkly design of brown on beige. A subtle design, of course.”

  Of course. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be in touch. Jerry, you can go ahead and get started on songs for Flower of the South.”

  He gave her a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.” As soon as she was gone, he turned to me, grinning. “Security detail for her garden party. Do you get to frisk the guests? I’ll come help you.”

  “You heard her. I get to dress up and blend in.”

  “I’ve seen you dressed up, Mac. There’s no way you’re going to blend in.”

  “You are perhaps the nicest husband I’ve ever had.”

  “Thanks.” He leaned over the desk to give me a kiss. “Witches and murder can’t possibly compete with the story of brave Emmaline Ross and a fancy purse, but I still want to check out the vineyard.”

  ***

  Phoenix Vineyard and Winery was one of many that had sprung up around Celosia in the past five years. As Harold mentioned, vineyards were big business way back during North Carolina’s settling days until the Native Americans showed Sir Walter Raleigh how to smoke the local tobacco leaves. Now that cigarettes and smoking had become unpopular, vineyards and wineries were making a comeback.

  Jerry and I had found a reasonably priced used red Jeep for a second car. Now that he had a steady job, having two cars made life much easier. We took the Jeep out to the Phoenix Vineyard but were stopped at the gate by a stern-looking policewoman.

  “Sorry, folks, employees only today.”

  The only thing we could see past the gate were rows and rows of grapevines, each one marked with a rose bush to lure bees to pollinate the vines, and the imposing building that housed the winery, an upscale restaurant, and a gift shop.

  I knew a lot of the local police, but I didn’t recognize this officer. “Can you tell us anything about the incident that happened here? Do you know the identity of the victim, or what exactly happened to him?”

  Her face was a well-schooled blank. “It’s an ongoing investigation, ma’am. As soon as we know anything, we’ll have a report for the news agencies.”

  “The paper said something about Darkrose. What’s that?”

  She wasn’t budging an inch. “As soon as we know anything, we’ll pass that information along.”

  There was nothing to do but thank her and head back to town. Jerry took out his cell phone. “I’m calling Del.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “If Chief Brenner had been here, I’ll bet he would’ve let you have a look around.”

  “You’d lose that bet. The chief is not happy with me.”

  “Why? Because you solve all the murders?”

  “I think he’s gotten a little flack from other departments about me. I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

  “The Beauty Queen and the Chief. Sounds like a hit sitcom to me.”

  Jerry left a message for Del and then received a call from Deely, saying one of the fry cooks was sick and asking if Jerry could come help with the lunch service, so we drove to Deely’s Burger World.

  A popular spot in Celosia since its early days as an ice cream parlor, Deely’s still had its original gray-and-white Formica counter tops, silver stools with red cushions, red plastic booths that made squishing sounds when you sat down and stuck to your legs in summer, and faded slogans for Coca-Cola in the yellowed wallpaper. Jerry kept his cooking clothes in the Jeep, so he changed into his old jeans and tee-shirt, grabbed an apron and headed for the kitchen. Sitting at the counter, I listened to the hum of conversations around me. As usual, news in Celosia spread faster than a dancing cat video on Facebook. Not only were people speculating on the vineyard murder, but they were talking and arguing about the centennial and the outdoor drama.

  Young waitress Annie Vernon stopped by for my order, one of Deely’s finest cheeseburgers, fries, and a Coke. She had dyed her hair a strange shade of green, and three earrings dangled from each ear. Her newest piercing was a nose ring, which made her look like a thin, yet friendly, cow. “Are you going to try out for the play, Madeline?”

  “Has the show been written yet?”

  Annie plucked a straw from her apron pocket, revealing a small black rose tattooed on her wrist. She had several flower tattoos, but I hadn’t seen this one before. “All I know is it’s called Flower of the South, and it’s about Emmaline Ross. I want to try out for the part of Emmaline. Her family came over from Scotland, and she was about my age when she started her own vineyard. She managed to make it work, even though everybody said a girl couldn’t do it. I can relate to that.”

  “How do you know so much about her?” I asked.

  “We studied her in school.”

  “And she lived in Celosia?”

  “Not exactly in Celosia. She lived where Camp Lakenwood is now.”

  Hmm. This could be a problem. “I don’t remember seeing any sort of historical marker at the camp.”

  “I think there’s the remains of a cabin in the woods somewhere.” Someone called for Annie. “Gotta go,” she said as she hurried back to help another customer and join the discussion about tryouts for the drama.

  I wondered if Nathan Fenton knew about this. With my help, Nathan had solved a mysterious riddle and received his inheritance, which included Camp Lakenwood. It would be just like Amanda to insist the drama be held on the sacred Emmaline Ross site, if there really was one. Open house for the camp was Saturday. I’d ask Jerry to check with Nathan and see if he knew anything about Emmaline.

  Across the diner, voices raised in another argument. A few months ago, Celosians had been fiercely divided over a movie about Mantis Man, their local legendary monster. Some people wanted to cash in on the craze, while others thought the whole idea cheapened the town’s image. Then a few months later, when Wendall Clarke came to open a new art gallery, the local Art Guild had argued constantly over who should run the gallery and whose artwork should be displayed. This time, the discussion was about the body found in Phoenix Vineyard and the complainers were a group of old men Jerry had nicknamed the Geezer Club, who always sat in a corner of the diner to hold forth on their opinions.

  One of the men settled his John Deere cap firmly on his head. “Bunch of crazy kids practicing Satanism. They come over from Parkland and think they can start something here.”

  His friend took another pinch of chewing tobacco. “Kids are wild today.”

  “Police said the man was all covered with these weird signs and tattoos. Probably a cult ritual.”

  “Why they want to cover themselves in tattoos, anyway? It looks stupid. In my day, the only people with tattoos were sailors and criminals.”

  Annie, coming with my bill, paused when she heard this. “Did you want a refill, Madeline?”

  “No, thanks.” I indicated the Geezer Club. “Don’t pay them any attention.”

  “Oh, I don’t. They go on like that all the time. What they don’t get is I’m not just a waitress here. I work two jobs to support myself and I’m saving money to attend the University of North Carolina at Parkland.”

  I realized I’d been guilty of thinking of Annie
as just the Waitress at Deely’s, too. “You support yourself?”

  “Yeah, my mom kicked me out when I was sixteen. Her new boyfriend and I didn’t get along. I’m better off on my own, believe me.”

  “Must be tough, though.”

  She shrugged. “I manage.”

  “Is that a new tattoo?”

  She held up her wrist where the black rose was artistically carved. “Yeah.” She gave the Geezers a dark look. “And I’m not a sailor or a criminal.”

  When the lunch rush was over and the diner had settled down, Jerry passed his apron to Deely and came out front. “Ready to go?”

  “All set.”

  Jerry took the last drink of my Coke. “I think an outdoor drama is a neat idea, especially one about wine. I already have an opening number in mind.”

  “What about the centennial song?”

  “Oh, that’s done. Want to hear it?”

  Before I could say no or stop him, he stood up in the booth. “My fellow Celosians! May I have your attention, please!” When he had the attention of everyone in the diner, he said, “You proud and lucky few will be the first to hear your centennial anthem!”

  “Sing it!” someone shouted. They gave him a round of applause to get him started, he put his hand over his heart, and he sang in his reasonably tuneful baritone,

  “Fair Celosia, in this special hour,

  One hundred years of strength and glory,

  We grow and flourish like our namesake flower,

  Long may the world tell our story!”

  It was actually not bad, and everyone reacted with cheers and loud stomping of feet. Jerry took several bows and sat down.

  “Where did all this songwriter talent come from?” I asked. “Please don’t tell me you conned someone into writing that for you.”

  “That was my own sheer God-given talent,” he said. Then he lowered his voice. “But I borrowed the tune from an old beer commercial.”

  Chapter Two

  Jerry said he’d drive out to Camp Lakenwood and talk to Nathan. I went back to work. After making several phone calls, I found the missing post office boxes. The Rotary Club had used them to haul food drive collections to the local food pantry, and the boxes had been mistakenly stored with the regular boxes. Check that one off. The Dollar Store cashier’s husband worked at the bank, so I waited until almost closing time and stopped off to have a little chat with him. He beamed at me and showed me the array of travel brochures on his desk. Turned out he was sneaking around to plan a huge anniversary surprise for his wife, which included a two-week cruise to the Bahamas.

  “That’s great,” I told him. “I know you’ll both enjoy that.”

  Back in my office, I called my worried client and assured her everything was okay. “It’s definitely not what you think.”

  “Did you confront him? What did he say?”

  “Be patient and you’ll be glad you did. An opportunity is coming up for you to have a long talk with him.”

  “Thanks, Madeline. He needs a long talk.”

  No, you do, I wanted to say, if you don’t know your husband well enough to trust him. But maybe this was unfair. I trusted Jerry, but I didn’t trust some of his ideas, or any of his friends.

  Jerry arrived soon after. He plopped down in the armchair. “Nathan didn’t know anything about Emmaline Ross, but he said we could look for the cabin whenever we like.”

  “Good timing. I solved both my cases today. Although I haven’t located Amanda’s pocketbook.”

  “Well, that was impressively fast. They’ll have to write an outdoor drama about you. I heard from Del. He said the Pagan Desires series plays a big part in the Darkrose Coven.”

  It was hard to escape the bombardment of commercials, interviews, and previews for Pagan Desires, the latest young adult craze. I’d seen the book and its sequels, Dread Desires and Demon Desires, prominently displayed in bookstore windows, including Celosia’s own Georgia’s Books, but I hadn’t read them.

  “Other than speculation, is there a connection to the body in the vineyard?”

  “Del didn’t know anything about that. He said in Parkland it was a popular teen pastime to dress up as the characters and hang out near graveyards.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the same Darkrose, or someone is using the name. Maybe someone is taking the pagan thing too far.” I wondered briefly about Annie’s black rose tattoo, but couldn’t imagine the hardworking young waitress as a member of any kind of coven, much less one based on a wildly popular book.

  “Del said he’d get back to me if he remembered anything else.” He checked his watch. “Don’t you have an appointment with Dr. Wallace today?”

  “Tomorrow.” I’d been adamantly against the idea of having children, but that was with Bill, my ex. Having a child with Jerry as the father was beginning to sound like an appealing idea. The patient young doctor I was seeing in town told me everything was in working order.

  “Sometimes things take longer than we plan,” she’d said, “but stressing about it won’t help.”

  Had I waited too long? Jerry tried to cheer me up. “Look, we know there’s nothing wrong with your inner workings, and there’s definitely nothing wrong with mine, so I predict we’ll have twins or triplets any day now. Then you’ll wonder why you ever worried.”

  “I’ve got to worry a little.”

  “Mac, I believe we’ve discussed your control issues.”

  Recently, a revealing conversation with my mother made me realize I had more in common with her than I ever suspected. All during my childhood, she’d managed every facet of my life, and I’d let her, until I went off to college and discovered I could manage myself. Meeting Jerry and being exposed to his carefree lifestyle had opened my eyes to all sorts of new possibilities, but down deep, I liked being in control. Now I was in control of my career and my art—or at least it seemed that way, and the fact that a baby wouldn’t show up when I wanted it to was really annoying.

  Jerry hopped up. “Okay. The graveyards of Parkland await.”

  “I don’t know about the graveyards, but we could ask around about Darkrose.”

  We were ready to go when Harold Stover knocked on the door and came in, his moustache bristling with indignation. “Sorry to disturb you, Madeline, but you know I argued with Amanda Price earlier today, and do you know what she has done now?”

  “Staged a coup and declared herself Queen of Celosia?”

  “She might as well! She’s already set up tryouts for this fool outdoor drama she thinks she’s going to write, and people are lining up to audition! The Centennial Committee never approved this. You’ve got to stop her.”

  “I don’t believe she’s committed a crime, Harold.”

  “She’ll listen to you. Tell her she’s got to follow proper procedure. She can’t run over everyone like this.”

  Actually, running over everyone was Amanda’s specialty. “Is she at the theater?”

  “Yes, twisting Evan’s arm. The woman’s impossible.”

  I tried to calm him down. “I know you’re worried about what this would cost the city, and I understand an outdoor drama would be expensive, but Amanda’s a wealthy woman. She has resources.”

  Harold wasn’t giving up. “Yes, but if she has this drama on city property, she has to follow the rules. Will you come talk to her?”

  I looked at Jerry and knew he was thinking the same thing I was. We’d have to postpone our graveyard trip.

  “If nothing else, we can rescue Evan,” Jerry said.

  Evan was no match for Amanda in full force. “All right. Let’s see what we can do.”

  ***

  Jerry and I had met Evan James, director of Celosia’s community theater, when we first moved to town and became involved in a murder during the Miss Celosia Pageant. The community theater performed in the Samuel Baker A
uditorium, an imposing brick building that resembled a high school built in the Thirties. The exterior was old-fashioned, but inside, the auditorium had been remodeled. Ancient squeaky wooden chairs had been replaced by rows of plush red seats, and the sad-looking beige plaster walls had been scraped and repainted a soft gray that matched the new gray carpet.

  Amanda set up a table at the double front doors and supervised a line of people as two other members of the Improvement Society assisted her with the audition forms. Evan stood to one side, his ever-present handkerchief out, mopping his brow. A thin, neatly dressed man with sparse brown hair, Evan was a champion worrier. This sudden takeover of his territory was unsettling.

  He came right to me. “Madeline, do you have any idea what this is all about? Amanda said she and the Improvement Society wanted to hold auditions here for an outdoor drama. I really had no reason to refuse her request, but what’s going on? I haven’t heard of any outdoor drama.”

  “It’s still in the planning stages. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Amanda saw me and waved me over. “Have you come to sign up? Jerry, don’t go anywhere. I want to talk to you, too. Isn’t this a wonderful turnout?”

  How long had she been planning this? “Amanda, do you have the play written?”

  She tapped the side of her head. “It’s all in here. I just need to write it down.”

  “You might want to run it by the Centennial Committee first.”

  “Did Harold put you up to this? Of course he did.” She glanced in Harold’s direction. “There he is, scowling, as usual. Look at all the people! Don’t you see how excited they are to be a part of history?”

  “This has not been approved,” Harold said. “Evan, don’t stand there wringing your hands! Tell her she has to go through proper channels.”

  Evan quailed beneath Amanda’s fierce glance and stammered for a reply.

  Amanda answered for him. “The theater isn’t being used right now, so Evan kindly volunteered to let the Society use it.”

  “Volunteered, my a—”