A Case of Imagination Read online

  “I wrote them.”

  Hayden stared at him. “But why? I didn’t think you liked to play practical jokes.”

  “No jokes, sir. I was quite serious.”

  “Emily Nesp drove me crazy.”

  Prill leaned forward. “No, dear boy,” he said in an entirely different tone. “She kept you sane.”

  Hayden opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it.

  “Am I right?” Prill said. “She was always good for a laugh, our Emily.”

  Hayden looked at him. “You’re right.”

  “A bizarre, truly wacky old lady. I shall miss her.”

  “I will, too,” he said.

  “Never fear! I can always resurrect her, if need be.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Hayden said.

  “Good. Well, I must rush off and tell the other members of FLUF about your decision. No reneging now! I expect to see Destinies prominently displayed when I return.”

  “I’ll take care of that right away,” Hayden said. “Oh, and Miss Nesp.”

  Prill paused at the door, his cape swirling around him. “Yes?”

  Hayden grinned. It was the first true smile I’d seen him smile. “Thanks.”

  Prill bowed. “Anything for poetry, sir! Good day.”

  ***

  On my way home, I stopped by the Freers’ house to speak with Augusta Freer. She was a small, dark-haired woman with a pleasant little face.

  “You’re the detective, aren’t you?” she said. “You know, I could not believe that Kimberly Dawn would do such a horrible thing. She was somewhat self-centered as a child, but to take that to such lengths. I can’t imagine it.”

  “I understand you were Juliet Lovelace’s English teacher,” I said.

  “Yes. What a horrible tragedy. She was a difficult young woman, but she had a bright future ahead of her, if she’d only been able to pursue it.”

  “She was going into English?”

  “No, no. Her real love was art.”

  “Really?”

  Augusta pointed to a framed picture on the wall. “She gave me that as a thank you present the end of this school year.”

  The picture showed three irises, a dark purple, a light purple, and a yellow. The colors were expertly done; the shadowing subtle and effective. I found it difficult to associate this delicate painting with the arrogant young woman who’d tried to alienate everyone around her.

  “It’s beautiful. She was very talented.”

  Augusta Freer nodded. “She loved to paint and draw, but her mother never encouraged her. I think all this flashy pageant stuff was a way of getting back at her parents.”

  I couldn’t take my gaze from the painting. My heart ached for the confused young woman who had such promise.

  ***

  I was still in a gloomy mood when I got home. A large van was parked out front. For a moment, I thought Jerry had changed his mind about the Eberlin house and was moving out. A closer look revealed the van to be a delivery van from Masterson’s Music.

  Jerry met me on the porch. I said, “What’s all this about?”

  He grinned. “A piano.”

  “A piano?”

  “Yeah, you know. Big thing with keys. Makes music.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “Where are you going to put it?”

  “In the music room, of course.”

  Two men came out. One handed some papers for Jerry to sign. He signed and gave a copy to one man. “Thanks. Come have a look, Mac.”

  We went into the parlor. Gone were the séance table and chairs. A shiny brown baby grand sat at the side windows.

  “Thought I’d paint this room yellow,” Jerry said. “Brighten it up.” He gave me a sideways look. “Or you could paint it.”

  “I don’t do walls.”

  “How about landscapes?”

  “We’ll see.” To me, the parlor already looked brighter. Everything looked brighter. “This room’s almost big enough to dance in.”

  “Almost.” He sat down on the piano bench. “So, you want to hear a song?”

  “You bet.”

  “Pull up a chair.”

  Instead, I sat down on the bench beside him and watched as he played. He was intent on the keys and didn’t notice how my gaze lingered on his face, on his calm gray eyes. I didn’t recognize the song. He was probably making it up as he went along. But that’s what I loved about him. Maybe his imagination took some crazy turns, but I could live with that, if he’d let me.

  I realized he’d stopped playing and was looking at me. There was so much emotion in his eyes it took my breath away. At last I knew for certain he felt the same way about me.

  “Jerry,” I said. “I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

  “That’s funny,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something, too.”

  We sat for a moment. I could hear my heart pounding. I wasn’t sure I could say anything. “Jerry,” I began.

  “Mac, let me go first.”

  I swallowed. “Sure.”

  “Since we’ve come to the house, a lot has happened, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” His grin was slight. “Yeah, I know. Thinking, what a concept. But I’ve been thinking and I’ve been paying attention even when you thought I wasn’t. There’s something I want you to know.”

  Oh, my God, he’s going to say it!

  “All that with Olivia. I’m not sure what I was doing. I knew she was all wrong for me, I just—well, you know. I’m a total screw-up and can’t get serious about anything, especially about romance.”

  I wanted to disagree and assure him he wasn’t a total screw-up, but I was afraid to speak. I’d never heard him talk like this, and I wasn’t sure where he was headed.

  Now he looked away. “There’s a reason, Mac. I’ve never told you before, but you deserve to know.”

  What could he mean?

  “It has to do with my parents.” His face was unusually somber. He took a deep breath. “It’s hard to remember what happened. But I think—no, I’m pretty sure I had something to do with the fire that killed them.”

  “Jerry….”

  He put his hand over his eyes and gave them a quick swipe before looking at me again. “I can’t believe I told you. I’ve been wanting to for so long, but I was afraid you’d leave, and you mean too much to me, Mac. I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

  I took his hand. This wasn’t my moment, after all. The time before, he’d been ready, and I’d missed my chance. Now that I was ready, the time wasn’t right for him. But what he needed was a friend, and for now, the relief on his face was all I needed. “I’m not going anywhere, Jerry. We’re best friends, right? This is just another mystery for me to solve. You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

  He smiled. “I’d like that.”

  I smiled back and squeezed his hand. Hold on, I thought. Whatever secrets you have, I’ll understand. Whatever happened to your parents, I’ll be there.

  Because I love you, Jerry Fairweather.

  For a little longer, he would just have to read my mind.

  MORE FROM THIS AUTHOR

  For other books, upcoming author events, or more information please go to:

  www.poisonedpenpress.com/jane-tesh

  CONTACT US

  To receive a free catalog of Poisoned Pen Press titles, please contact us in one of the following ways:

  Phone: 1-800-421-3976

  Facsimile: 1-480-949-1707

  Email: [email protected]

  Website: www.poisonedpenpress.com

  Poisoned Pen Press

  6962 E. First Ave. Ste. 103

  Scottsdale, AZ 85251

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

&n
bsp; Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  More from this Author

  Contact Us