A Case of Imagination Read online

  Now Jerry crossed his eyes at me. It was hard to keep a straight face. “I’ve never attempted one.”

  “Clowns are such a challenge. So many people get them wrong, which is why you see so many bad imitations. The colors, for one thing, and then there’s the expression. No two can be alike, you know. Each clown has his own distinctive makeup. Let me show you.”

  He showed us about fifty different paintings of clowns. Clowns holding dinky little umbrellas, clowns spilling out of little cars, juggling clowns, pie-faced clowns, clowns in the rain. Jerry kept modifying his snorts of laughter into sneezes. Tully didn’t notice.

  “And over here is my Lost Carnival Series.” He started through another stack of paintings and stopped. “My goodness, I’m a terrible host. You came for the package, didn’t you? Not to see all this. I’m sorry. I rarely have visitors, especially fellow artists. I guess I got carried away.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I enjoyed it.”

  “Let me get the package for you. I think I know where it is.”

  He disappeared into the depths of the house.

  I turned to Jerry and held up my finger. “Don’t say one word.”

  He let out the laughter he’d been trying to suppress. “I’m going to buy one and hang it in my room. It’ll scare the ghosts away.”

  I walked back to the lush mountain landscapes, surprised by the feelings that rose up in me. Since college, I hadn’t wanted to even sketch, but now I wanted to grab a brush and fill in the green shadows of trees. I wanted to see if I could capture the blue haze that settled over the mountains and the way the sun’s slanting rays sent searchlights of gold through the forest. Tully Springfield could do it. I could, too.

  “These are gorgeous. Why can’t he see that?”

  Jerry had on his most innocent expression. “Oh, you know these artist types. They never think their work is any good.”

  I glared at him and didn’t answer.

  He picked up a paintbrush. “We’ll never see him again. He’s already forgotten we’re here.”

  “Don’t mess with his stuff. He’s got some of the best materials I’ve seen. Top quality.”

  “I bet he’d share.”

  “You need to shut up now.”

  Jerry replaced the paintbrush and sat down in one of the wooden folding chairs by Tully’s desk. “Seriously, if things don’t work out with Ted, this guy’s not bad. Sure, he’s a little absent-minded, but think what you could do with a studio like this.”

  Why did he feel the need to fix me up with everyone else? “I have to admit this studio’s really nice.”

  “And Tully’s looking at you like he thinks you’re really nice, too.”

  “Will you quit playing Cupid?”

  “Now that I’ve got Olivia, we’ve got to find somebody for you.”

  “So all four of us can live happily ever after in the Eberlin House?”

  “Why not?”

  Because I can’t live in the Eberlin house with you and Olivia, you dope. Ted’s offer of office space in his building was sounding better every day. Maybe I could live there, too, get a cot and a coffee pot. But I’d still be in Celosia. I’d still be near Jerry.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. We’ll see what happens.”

  Jerry left the desk and inspected a family of plastic ducks. “I kind of like this shade of pink. Do you suppose he was going for the flamingo look?”

  “I knew something was missing. No plastic flamingoes.”

  “Whoops.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. Some of the paint came off. It’s an improvement, really.”

  “I can’t take you anywhere.”

  “Is it ruined beyond all reason?”

  I checked the duck’s head. “It’s okay.” We straightened just as Tully Springfield returned with the package.

  “I didn’t open it,” he said. “I set it aside to take to town the next time I went, and with one thing and another, I never went. My apologies.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “It was safer here with you.”

  He smiled. “Well, that’s good news. Usually, I make things worse. Could I offer you some lemonade? Apple pie?”

  I needed to know more about Tully Springfield. “Some lemonade would be nice.”

  “This way, please.”

  The rest of Tully’s house was surprisingly bare and decorated in Mountain Cabin. The furniture in front of the fireplace in the den was made of logs and draped with striped Indian blankets. The lampshades had pictures of moose. A tree stump with a piece of glass on top served as a coffee table. The only thing out of place was the clown portrait hanging over the mantel, all sad eyes and turned-down mouth.

  “One of my favorites,” Tully said.

  I could tell Jerry was trying not to laugh. He looked around the room and saw something in the window that caught his attention. “Great crystals.”

  “Ah, yes, they catch the morning sunlight. I believe quite strongly in crystal healing.”

  “I’ve done a little research into that, myself.” Jerry reached for one of the crystals. “Do you mind?”

  “No, go right ahead. The amethyst is my favorite.”

  “This is a nice chunk of rock.”

  Tully handed me a glass of lemonade.

  “Did you know Val well?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid not. I’d see him every now and then at the drug store.” He tapped his chest. “We had the same heart condition, so we’d discuss how we were getting along, medications we were trying, things like that. I was a bit surprised to hear he’d died. I thought he was doing pretty well, but I didn’t see him every time I went to Celosia. I’m usually in Virginia for the art shows.”

  “When’s your next show?” I asked.

  “I’d have to check my calendar.”

  “Would you mind checking?” I gave him my best smile. “I might like to go.”

  “One moment.”

  Jerry was still playing with the crystals. “That’s more like it, Mac.”

  “More like what?”

  “Ted Stacy better watch his back.”

  I shushed him. “I’m working.”

  He almost dropped a hunk of rose quartz. “You think Tully’s a suspect?”

  I kept my voice down. “Not if he can prove he was in Virginia Friday night.”

  “But he’s a nut. He paints clowns.”

  “And maybe Juliet made disparaging remarks about his work. We artists are sensitive, remember?”

  He set the rock back on the window ledge. “I think you just want to find something wrong with the guy so you don’t have to date him.”

  “Here we are,” Tully said. He brought in a large calendar with dates circled in red. “The Bayport Gallery had a showing last Friday, so the next show I’ll attend is week after this at Steamboat Falls. I’d be very happy to have you come along. Perhaps it would inspire you to take up your work again.”

  If he was telling the truth, Tully was nowhere near the theater on Friday night.

  “So you haven’t heard about the trouble in town?”

  He shook his head. “What trouble?”

  “One of the Miss Celosia contestants was murdered.”

  I watched his eyes. He seemed genuinely puzzled. “Murdered? Who would want to kill a beauty queen?”

  I found it odd he didn’t ask who the victim was. “That’s what has everyone talking.”

  “Do the police have any idea who did it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You must wonder what sort of place you’ve moved to. I don’t think there’s been a murder in Celosia in years. More lemonade?”

  Did he really not care, or was he just in his own little world out here? “No, thanks. The victim was Juliet Lovelace. Did you know her?”

  He shook his head. “This was a young lady, I take it?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “I wouldn’t know anyone that young. It’s been thirty years since I
was in high school. A real tragedy, I’m sure.”

  I couldn’t tell by his tone of voice if he meant the tragedy was Juliet’s death or the fact he was no longer young enough to be a teenager.

  He turned to Jerry. “Can I get you some more lemonade, Jerry?”

  “No, thank you.” Jerry picked up another piece of glittering rock. “Which of these crystals do you find the most receptive?”

  “The amethyst is reliable, but I’d say for the best effects, I use the obsidian.”

  “Oh, yeah? I never thought of that.”

  “Although it isn’t truly a crystal, obsidian is excellent for blocking and reversing harmful rays.”

  Jerry’s likely to talk for hours about this kind of thing, but something had occurred to me. “Tully, you say Val’s medicine was working for him.”

  “Yes, he often said so, and he was never without his nitroglycerin pills.”

  In searching the house for videotapes, Jerry, the kids, and I had found lots of things, but we hadn’t found any pills, not even a bottle of aspirin.

  Tully patted his shirt pocket. “Like me, he always had some in his pocket. And I remember him telling me he kept some in a little table by the door so he wouldn’t have to run all the way to the bathroom or kitchen cabinets. Guess he was out.”

  Maybe. I wouldn’t know anything more about this or about Tully Springfield until I asked Nell or Denisha. I set my glass on the tree stump table and stood up.

  “We appreciate your hospitality, but Jerry and I need to get back to town.”

  “Please come again soon. I’d love to see some of your work, Madeline.”

  “I’m out of practice.”

  He gestured to the studio. “I have more than enough here. If you want to get started again, you must feel free to use whatever you like.”

  I didn’t dare look at Jerry. “That’s very generous.”

  He insisted we take a birdbath, so Jerry chose one that didn’t glow in the dark. Tully helped him put it in the trunk.

  “I don’t have a phone, Madeline, but I’m nearly always here. Please consider my offer.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  “Woo, woo,” Jerry said as we drove away. “You’ve got this guy in your pocket.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “But I approve of him. Anyone who’s that big into crystals is okay by me.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “You don’t really suspect him, do you? What’s his motive? Did Juliet ridicule his clown pictures? If that’s the case, there’d be bodies strewn everywhere.”

  “I don’t know. I was more interested in what he had to say about Val’s pills.”

  Jerry’s eyes got large. “You think there’s something suspicious about Val’s death?”

  “It just seems odd that if Val always had his pills with him, he couldn’t get to them on time. I hope there’s something useful on this tape.”

  “We can look at it as soon as we get home,” Jerry said. “Olivia can handle things at the—argg!”

  I almost ran off the road. “What?”

  “Olivia! I totally forgot she was coming to talk about the house! Oh, man, if she’s there waiting on me, she is going to be royally pissed.”

  Olivia was waiting, and “royally pissed” didn’t begin to describe her expression. She stood on the porch, arms folded, eyes blazing.

  “Jerry Fairweather, if you are not going to give the bed and breakfast your full and undivided attention, I am not going to spend one more minute of my valuable time on this project!”

  “Sorry, honey.” He tried to hug her, but she shrugged him off. “Mac and I were looking for something important, and we had to go way out in the country to this—”

  “I don’t want to hear about it. What could be more important than fixing this house and getting it ready for potential guests? Are you serious about wanting to open a bed and breakfast by September?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then you need to be more responsible! You need to do your part and not run off to play with Madeline. This isn’t college, this isn’t spring break, this is real life.”

  He took a step back. “Well, maybe I don’t like real life.”

  “That’s obvious.”

  “I said I was sorry. You’re better at these things than I am, anyway.”

  “That’s not the point. This is a partnership. You have to do your share whether you like it or not. You have to grow up.”

  Okay, Jerry, I thought. Now’s your chance. You can choose real life with Olivia, or you can continue to play with me.

  He didn’t say anything. Olivia looked at her watch and made an exasperated sound. “I’m late for another appointment. We’ll discuss this when I get back.”

  She strode down the steps to her car. She didn’t look at me. When she’d gone, I wasn’t really sure what to say to Jerry.

  When he turned to me, his expression was determined. “Let’s check out the videotape.”

  I opened the package and took out the tape. The label said, “The Nocturnal Habits of Centurio senex.”

  Jerry nodded. “Sounds pretty kinky to me.”

  “There’s a letter.” I unfolded the paper and read aloud, “‘Dear Sir: While we are interested in the mating habits of Centurio senex, we do not need or appreciate suggestive material. We sincerely hope this tape was sent to us by mistake and look forward to the next in your series of documentaries.’”

  Jerry and I looked at each other. Then we raced for the living room. I popped the tape in the VCR. Jerry hit the remote. As “The Nocturnal Habits of Centurio senex” unwound, our eyes grew wider and our mouths hung lower. Kimberly Dawn Williams, in all her nude and not-all blonde glory writhed upon the pink heart-shaped bed in the attic, panting and groaning in a ghastly parody of sexual excitement.

  “Well,” I said. “This is not what I expected.”

  Jerry cleared his throat. “She looks pretty good for an old bat.”

  I turned it off. We sat for a few moments, still slack-jawed. I was afraid the image was permanently burned into my brain.

  Finally, Jerry said, “Okay, so while Val’s away on a bat-hunting expedition, Kimberly Dawn decides to use his studio to jump start her second career.”

  “Or make a birthday surprise for that certain someone.”

  “What a great idea. Think Olivia will go for it?”

  “The only thing Olivia wants to go for is your throat.” I hit the eject button and slid the tape back into its cover. “If I were Kimberly Dawn, former Miss Celosia and reigning society queen, I wouldn’t want anyone to see this.”

  “What are we going to do with it?” Jerry asked.

  “We’re going to keep it a secret.” I pulled out my phone.

  “In this town?”

  “Exactly.”

  He understood. “Oh, that kind of secret.”

  “I’m going to start with Dennis the Mailman.”

  Dennis Padgett was glad to hear the mail had gone through.

  “I just wanted to let you know that Jerry and I found the package inVal’s car out at Tully Springfield’s.”

  “That’s great. Was it a videotape?”

  “A very special, one-of-a-kind videotape.”

  “Glad to be of assistance, miss.”

  “That’s it?” Jerry said when I hung up. “‘A very special, one-of-a-kind videotape’? Not ‘Kimberly Dawn Starring in “Lust in the Attic”’?”

  “Give it time,” I said. “I have every faith in the small town network.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next morning, Jerry wanted to try a pancake recipe that he thought his B&B customers would like.

  I sat down at the kitchen table. “Are these special haunted pancakes shaped like little ghosts?”

  He turned from the stove to grin at me. “Regular round pancakes. The syrup is haunted.”

  Shana was right. I needed to step up my campaign, and now was the perfect time. Olivia hadn’t put in an appearance
since her big blow up the day before. Jerry and I had recovered from the sight of Kimberly Dawn as Porn Queen of Celosia. This was a pleasant little domestic scene, complete with the warm, sweet smell of pancakes.

  I didn’t get my chance. As I opened my mouth, Nell knocked on the back door. The first thing she said when she came in was, “What’s all this about a videotape you found out at Tully Springfield’s?”

  I gave Jerry an I-told-you-so look, and he acknowledged my superiority with a wry grin. “I was hoping you’d stop by, Nell. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Juliet. Have you had breakfast? Jerry’s making pancakes.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Nell and I sat down at the kitchen table. Jerry went to the stove.

  Nell grinned. “You mean junior can cook?”

  He pointed the spatula at her. “You want some pancakes or not?”

  “Hell, yeah. I want a big stack.”

  Jerry cooked the pancakes, flipping them out of the pan and onto our plates like a circus act.

  Nell covered her pancakes in syrup, took a big mouthful, chewed, and nodded her approval. “Pretty good for a short order cook.” She put the emphasis on “short.”

  “Nell,” I asked, “where are Juliet’s parents?”

  “They split up and moved away two years ago. Can’t say that they were very good role models. Always drinking and arguing like a pair of wildcats. The aunt took her in, but that’s not much better. She’s never home.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Nice little blue house on Grayson Street, just behind the Super Food. Juliet might as well have been living on her own. But lots of folks felt sorry for her, tried to help her. You see where it got Ted Stacy.”

  “Did anyone else try to help her? The judges liked her.”

  “Well, they wanted to beat Dixley, and she was their best chance.”

  It sounded to me as if the judges were using Juliet. She probably knew this. After all, she was using them and the pageant. Ted, however, had been genuinely concerned, and she pushed him away with accusations. Maybe Juliet resented help. Maybe she didn’t feel she was worthy of help. Maybe she didn’t recognize kindness when she saw it.

  “Nell, did Hayden try to help her in any way?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean to embarrass the girl. He’s not like that.”