A Case of Imagination Page 23

  “Percy didn’t know about Juliet and her tape, did he? You filmed Juliet, though you knew she wasn’t eighteen.”

  For the first time, a flush of red darkened Kimberly Dawn’s perfect cheeks. “Juliet lied to me about her age. She lied about everything. Does any of that matter now? The poor girl is dead, a sad ending to a sad story.”

  “She knew about Percy’s other directing jobs, didn’t she? She was probably planning to tell him about the tape. It was you who caused all the problems at the pageant, wasn’t it, hoping Percy would quit before Juliet approached him, before he found out what you’d done.”

  “Are you accusing me of vandalism? You’d better watch what you say.”

  “What were you and Juliet quarreling about at the theater?”

  “That? It was nothing. She was not supposed to be using her cell phone during rehearsal.”

  Her cell phone. Something clicked in my mind. Juliet’s interrupted call to Ted.

  She stood up. “This is nonsense. If you don’t have Juliet’s tape, then where is it?”

  That’s what Juliet was looking for the night of the séance. Her tape. The dirt on Juliet’s dress wasn’t from backstage. It must have come from the passageway, I realized. She must have just made it back to the rehearsal before Jerry and I arrived. And that’s what Kimberly Dawn must have been looking for in Ted’s office and at Benjy’s station. If she caught Juliet talking to Ted, she could have assumed he knew about the tape. Maybe he even had it. Benjy knew about Val’s studio, so it was possible Juliet had talked to him, as well.

  Kimberly Dawn had recovered her poise, but there was an edge to her voice. “Where is Juliet’s tape, Madeline?”

  I had more questions. “How long had you been using Val’s studio for your ‘business’?”

  “I paid him for it, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

  “No, what’s bothering me is what you were using his studio for.”

  She shrugged. “He really didn’t care what a grown woman did to earn a living.”

  “Maybe not. Everyone says he was a loner, real easy-going. But I think he would have cared if he’d found out who else was using his studio, if he’d found that particular tape. You know, the one nobody can find. The one you thought I had. Because one other thing I know about Val is that he loved kids.”

  She picked up her pocketbook. “I believe this conversation is over.”

  “He confronted you about it, didn’t he? He knew Juliet was only seventeen, a loner, like himself. Her tape got mixed up with his bat tapes, and he saw it. I’m betting this upset him so much, he told you he was turning you in for corrupting a minor. Maybe you argued about it. So much that it brought on his angina. He went for his pills. But you got to them first. And you kept them from him.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this. Val Eberlin died of a heart attack. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “But you had something to do with Juliet.”

  She looked at me, the plastic smile still in place.

  “I’m guessing she suspected you were involved with Val’s death. She probably acted strangely enough that you caught on. And then this girl, that so many people thought did not have a decent bone in her body, did a strange thing. She realized the porn business wasn’t all dressing up and posing like being in a pageant. It had a dark and dangerous side. So she turned to the only person who had treated her with respect. She called Ted Stacy for help. She called the man who tried to teach her that there were consequences, who believed in her, for help. Unfortunately, you overheard her, and understood what she was talking about. So she had to go, too. But Juliet still existed on the tape you’d made. You had to find that tape, even if it meant looking all over Celosia, and destroy it before it destroyed you.”

  She tried to keep from looking bored. “Are you done?”

  “Your fingernails. You left them backstage the night you murdered Juliet.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  I took the fingernail out of my pocket. “I have one right here. The other one’s at the police lab. I’m sure they’ll find traces of Juliet’s blood on it.”

  This was a complete lie, but it was the best I could think of at the moment. Unfortunately, Kimberly Dawn didn’t buy it.

  “You really are foolish, aren’t you?”

  “You’re tall enough to reach the cords hanging backstage, and you bragged how you’ve kept in shape. I think you could strangle her, especially when she wasn’t expecting anyone back in her little private dressing area.”

  Kimberly Dawn sneered. “That’s nonsense.”

  I thought she was reaching into her pocketbook for her keys. Instead, she brought out a dainty little pistol. Even though my every nerve was immediately on stand-by, I couldn’t help noticing the handle was pink.

  She leveled the little gun at my heart. “You know, when he hears the shot, I hope your young man will come out from wherever he’s hiding so I can shoot him, too.”

  “Oh, he’s long gone,” I said, hoping he was. “Nell Brenner’s here, though. You know, the chief of police’s daughter? She’s upstairs refinishing the floors.”

  Kimberly Dawn smiled. “Nice try. Nell’s van isn’t parked outside.”

  “I don’t really think you want to kill someone else,” I said. “How are you going to explain it?”

  “I came to talk to you about pageants, of course. What could be more natural than two beauty queens having a chat? People here don’t really believe you’re any sort of detective, anyway. You’re just some snoopy, interfering woman who can get away with asking annoying questions because you’re attractive. It’s easy for people like us.” She gave a little laugh. “We can get away with murder.”

  “And Jerry?”

  “Everyone knows the Fairweathers are unstable. I believe the two of you had a lovers’ quarrel. He shot you and then killed himself. It’ll add to the unhealthy allure of this house.”

  “That would work, except we aren’t lovers.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  Even the villains can see through me. This is getting ridiculous. “No one’s going to believe Jerry used that sissy little gun.”

  It didn’t take her long to come up with Plan B. “You’re right. Maybe something a bit more dramatic.” She looked around. “It really is a shame how these old houses burn so quickly. Maybe the Eberlin house should go out in a burst of glory. No one would miss it, that’s for certain.” She reached into her pocketbook again. “You know so much about fingernails, Madeline. Maybe you remember something about fingernail polish remover. Anything come to mind? It’s flammable. Why don’t we see how flammable it is.”

  “You carry fingernail polish remover in your pocketbook?”

  “I carry everything. You never know when you’ll have a fashion emergency.”

  I could not believe I was going to be done in by a beauty product.

  She shook the bottle. “There’s really not enough in here for the whole house, but it’ll be a good start. Let me see if I have some matches.” She took out a compact, a mirror, a comb, a brush, and a can of hairspray. “I could’ve sworn I had a pack in here. Oh, well, I believe I see a lighter.”

  Olivia’s fancy useless candles and the lighter were on the mantel. As Kimberly Dawn reached for the lighter, I dove for the can of hairspray, popped the lid, and sprayed full force into her face. She shrieked and tried to bat the fumes away. I grabbed the lighter.

  “Fingernail polish remover isn’t the only thing flammable around here,” I said. “You have enough hairspray on your hair to go up like the Hindenburg.”

  She blinked furiously, tears streaking her makeup. “Keep away from me!”

  “Drop the gun.”

  She waved the gun in my direction. “Don’t come any closer!”

  She fired. It made a surprisingly loud noise for such a little pistol. Blinded by the hairspray, she missed me by a good three feet and hit one of the lamps. I didn’t wait to find out how many bullets the gun held. I used the other
lamp to knock the gun out of her hand.

  Sobbing and cursing in a most un-queenly fashion, Kimberly Dawn sank to the sofa. I retrieved the little pistol.

  Jerry ran in from the kitchen, wide-eyed. “Was that a gun-shot?”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Where are the kids?”

  “I told them to stay in the passageway. We were practicing our spy techniques.”

  “Go tell them everything’s all right and to stay put for now. I’m calling the police.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but your new lamps made the ultimate sacrifice.”

  I reached for my phone. Before I could call the police, a police car drove up in the yard.

  Chief Brenner knocked on the door.

  “That’s what I call service,” I said. “Come in.”

  “Service?” he said.

  “I was just about to call you. This former Miss Celosia just tried to kill me.” I handed the gun to Chief Brenner and directed his attention to the dead lamp. “I believe she also killed Juliet Lovelace. And Val Eberlin.”

  He stared at Kimberly Dawn. She was still gasping and weeping from the hairspray. “Miss Williams, do you have anything to say?”

  Kimberly Dawn tried to glare at me, but her eyes were almost swollen shut. “Whatever she says, she’s lying.”

  Chief Brenner took her by the arm. “Why don’t you come along with me, Miss Williams? We’ll discuss this down at the station. Ms. Maclin, I’m going to want to speak with you, too.”

  As he tucked her into the police car, I had to ask, “How did you know to come out here?”

  He shut the door. “I didn’t. I’m here in response to a complaint.”

  I started to laugh. “Oh, boy.”

  “Geoff and Sean Snyder have been pestering me to see what’s going on at the house. They seem to think that Mr. Fairweather is engaged in certain illegal activities. Got tired of listening to them, so I came over today.”

  I couldn’t stop smiling. “They’re going to be furious.”

  “How so?”

  “They probably saved Jerry’s life.”

  Chief Brenner looked understandably puzzled. “I’m not sure that’s what they intended.”

  “I know it’s not. But if I hadn’t been able to disarm Kimberly Dawn, her plan was to kill me and Jerry, and set fire to the house. Tell the Snyders thanks, will you?”

  “I will. Oh, and Ms. Maclin?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Next time, leave the confronting part of this business to the police. You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

  ***

  Jerry was so delighted by the Snyders coming to the rescue he was still grinning by dinnertime. Olivia, arriving just in time to spoil a perfect evening alone together, was not as thrilled by his escapade.

  “So you not only let Mac put you in danger but the lives of two children, as well. That’s just wonderful, Jerry.”

  “But it all worked out. Mac caught the killer. And we weren’t in danger. We jumped down into the passageway the minute Kimberly Dawn drove up, and while we were down there, we found some sequins that prove Juliet Lovelace used the passageway.”

  “And why would Juliet Lovelace be sneaking around your uncle’s house?”

  “She was looking for a videotape.”

  “I thought you just told me she was running around pretending to be this book character.”

  “That, too.”

  “So where’s this tape that caused all the fuss?” asked Olivia.

  “We never found it.” Jerry looked at me. “Should I get in touch with Uncle Val?”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”

  “If you like,” I said to Jerry. “ But knowing how he felt about kids, I think you know what he would say.”

  Jerry closed his eyes as if tuning into the spirit world. “He’d say, I destroyed it before anyone else could see it.” He opened his eyes. “That’s what I’d do.”

  A line from Hayden’s Glass Plums came to mind:

  I will destroy what harms you.

  “I think that’s exactly what he did.”

  Olivia shook her head. “And you like this screwy little town and want to spend your days planning for a haunted B&B.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No. I can’t stand running back and forth like this any more!” She sighed. “Why don’t you come back to Parkland? You can stay with me until we get things straightened out.”

  “What about the B&B?”

  She let her breath out in an exasperated huff.

  “Your new lighter came in handy, Olivia, thanks,” I said.

  She eyed me. I could tell she was wondering if my remark was a joke. “You’re welcome.”

  “You know,” Jerry said, “now that the house is the site of an actual murder attempt, we could have some great mystery tours here. Don’t fix the lamp or the bullet hole, and have a sign on the lighter saying, ‘This lighter saved the day.’”

  Olivia put up both hands. “No! No, that’s it! I’ve had it!” She pushed herself away from the table. “I’ve had it with this stupid little town, I’ve had it with Madeline hanging around all the time, and I’ve definitely had it with you and your wild ideas. All you do is fantasize about what fun it will be. You can’t see that this is beyond you, because you’d actually have to work.” She grabbed her pocketbook and headed for the door, pausing for a final shot. “That’s your problem, Jerry, you have too much imagination!”

  I saw through her game. She never wanted to live in Celosia or help with a bed and breakfast of any kind. She’d been hoping to scare him away by showing him how hard it would be.

  I glanced at Jerry to see how he was taking her exit. He sat in his chair, a blank look on his face. He didn’t look relieved or resigned or any one of several emotions I expected. It was as if he’d been handed a problem too big to solve.

  Finally he turned to me. “Let’s eat out on the porch.”

  We were on the porch eating cornflakes when Dennis Padgett drove up in his mail truck. He hopped out and handed me a letter.

  “Special delivery, miss. Mr. Amry said to hand it to you personally.” He drove back down the driveway.

  I opened the letter, read it, and smiled.

  “What is it?” Jerry asked.

  I handed him the letter. “A poem from Hayden.”

  Jerry read it. “Hey, it makes sense.”

  “It’s really nice.”

  Jerry read it aloud:

  “‘Along dark and twisting paths,

  Light glimmers.

  Truth revealed

  A heart released.

  This same heart thanks you.’”

  I found a smaller piece of paper tucked inside the envelope. “Here’s a note from Shana. She says he wrote this and then wrote the dedication poem for the new school in about twenty minutes.”

  “Great news.”

  We sat for a while in silence. Then I said, “Looks like I can’t escape the pageant world.”

  Jerry took another handful of cornflakes. “Why do you say that?”

  “Without my insider’s knowledge of sequins and hairspray, I never would’ve solved this.”

  He shook his head. “I would’ve said it was your artist’s way of looking at things that solved this mystery.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “The color of a fingernail, the sparkle of a sequin.”

  I punched his arm. “Quit hogging all the cereal.”

  He passed me the box. “So, are you staying?”

  “For now.”

  “Taking the office at Ted’s?”

  “I’m checking on that tomorrow.”

  “Here’s hoping there’s enough crime to keep you busy.”

  I thought of my revised Big Speech. Nothing is more important than my relationship with Jerry Fairweather. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find something to work on.”

  ***

  Tuesday morning, Ted made all the arrangements for me to rent t
he office in his building. Afterward, I strolled over to Georgia’s Books, just in time for Prill’s steamroller entrance. He sailed in, his cape billowing behind. He pointed a long finger at Hayden.

  “There you are! Thought you’d get away, did you? Impossible!”

  Georgia and I moved aside to give Prill a clear path to Hayden at the counter.

  “Hello, Prill,” he said.

  “Are you sufficiently recovered to bear the brunt of my outrage?” Prill asked.

  “Oh, yes. Go ahead.”

  “Why should I bother?” Prill said with a dramatic gesture. “Why should I waste my breath? You know this speech as well as I do.”

  “Let’s cut it short,” Hayden said. “I bow to your superior knowledge.” As Prill watched in astonishment, he went to the poetry section and took the copy of Destinies from the bottom shelf. “In the window today marked ‘Special.’ And I’ll recommend her to the library committee when we meet next week.”

  Prill’s eyes rolled. “You astound me, sir! Am I to understand that you Give Up? You concede? Victory is mine? I am speechless. Completely bereft of speech. This is beyond words.”

  Hayden motioned to the phone behind the counter. “Call her and give her the good news if you like.”

  Prill began to laugh. “I can’t believe this. Wonderful! You’ve made my day.”

  “Quit gloating and call her.”

  Prill kept laughing. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Hayden said. “Is she in seclusion somewhere, thinking up more world-shattering ideas?”

  “No, no.” Prill stopped laughing, but his eyes twinkled.

  I had already figured this out. “Hayden, there is no Emily Nesp.”

  “No—?” he began, puzzled. “What is all this?”

  Prill dusted his hands. “She’s served her purpose, so now I dispose of her.”

  “That lady I saw you with the other day—”

  “My great aunt Tilly, in town to buy some toiletries.”

  Hayden still looked baffled, so I said, “He made her up.”

  Hayden’s voice rose. “You made her up? All this bellowing about her work was an act? And her poems—”