Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch (7 page)

“Didn’t you graduate from some fashion design school in Houston?”

I nodded. “I crammed my junior and senior years into three semesters and graduated early. It was wonderful. Then I came back home.”

I paid the cashier. Audie grabbed the bags and headed out to the car. I followed, continuing the story.

“To give her credit, Jenna has always supported Dina, even when she was in college. And Dina’s always known the truth. But when Jenna comes home, it’s like I don’t exist.”

“Like the father visiting his kids every other weekend. Party time.”

“Exactly.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. It was foolish to harbor anger at my elder sister. “Dina gets into trouble with this shooting, and there’s Jenna, swooping in to rescue her. Even if she had already planned to come for Land Run Days.” Why hadn’t Dina come to me with her troubles?

The rain had stopped, leaving the early evening sky crisp and clear. Audie stuffed the bags in the trunk of the car and put his arms around me.

“Oh, Cici. You don’t have to prove anything. To Dina. Or to me.”

I felt safe and secure in the circle of his arms. Safe enough to cry. So I did. Audie didn’t say anything. He rubbed my back and let me cry, my tears soaking the front of his shirt more surely than the afternoon’s rainstorm. Eventually I stopped. I lifted my face to his and looked into those beautiful blue eyes. He leaned down and kissed me, once, lightly, on the lips. Then he dug in the pocket of his jeans and dabbed a monogrammed handkerchief on my face, wiping away the traces of tears.

“I would kiss away every tear,” he said. “But then we might be here all night.” He managed a weak smile and stepped back. “Are you okay?”

His words broke the wonder of the moment. “I’m fine now.” My voice didn’t quiver, and I opened the passenger door to prove my point. “We’d better get going, before they send the posse after us.”

A few minutes later, we were back at the house. Jenna and Dina worked in the kitchen, cubing the chicken. Cool, damp air carried spicy aromas from the grill, into the house. Jenna raised an eyebrow at our odd assortment of fruits and vegetables, but didn’t comment. Audie took on the task of chopping the araza for the salad. He handed each of us a piece to try it. It tasted a bit like banana.

“We decided to create our own recipe,” I explained, stirring the fruit into the mix. “It’s a California A-plus Salad.”

Dina giggled.

“I like it.” Jenna shook olive oil and lemon juice in a cruet but left the Catalina dressing in the bottle. “No need to be fancy.” She did the honors of tossing the ingredients together in a huge ceramic bowl that she sent us from New Mexico one Christmas. Made by Native Americans, of course. I reminded her that Oklahoma prided itself on its Indian heritage. She had retorted that the Navajo and Apache cultures were very different.

Before long we sat in our comfortable kitchen, the window open to let in the rain-cleansed air, mismatched silverware adding a family touch to the table. Dad stared at the fruit salad, searching his extensive bank of memorized proverbs for an appropriate quote. “The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life.”

“Proverbs 11:30. I love the end of that verse. ‘And he who wins souls is wise.’ ” Audie could match Dad, verse for verse.

Dad beamed. “Will you say the blessing, Audie?”

Audie spoke a brief prayer, and we passed the salad.

“You two disappeared after the concert,” Jenna said. “People wanted to get a picture of us, the three Wilde sisters together.”

“Yeah. Maybe we could have used it as a publicity photo and gone on tour.” Dina giggled.

I bit off the response to the outrageous suggestion that sat on the tip of my tongue. I knew Dina was joking. “We had to make a stop.” I saw no need to explain the conversation we had overheard between Chief Reiner and Cord. Audie took his cue from me and didn’t expand on my explanation.

Jenna took a bite of the improvised salad. “Mmm, perfect. You’ll have to tell me the name of that fruit again. This is even better than my standard California salad recipe.”

Dina heaped her plate full with salad and crisp French fries and her own specialty, flaky biscuits. She must be hungry after her appetite-deprived lunch. We addressed ourselves to enjoying the meal.

“Officer Waller asked me to come to the police station again in the morning.” Dina said after she ate the last bite of biscuit and pushed back her plate. “Why do they want to talk with me again? I’ve already told them everything I know.” She glanced at me. “And before you say anything, I’ve asked our lawyer to go with me.”

Uh-oh
.
Audie and I exchanged glances. “We might know something about that. We ran into the police after the concert.”

“They said you made a threat against Penn when he turned you down for an internship at the
Herald
,” Audie said bluntly. “And Cici says it’s true.”

“What threat?” Dina thought for a moment and her face reddened. “But. . .” She spluttered. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I mean, I got a job at the
Sequoian
instead, and it’s much better. Mr. Gaynor lets me a do a lot more things.”

Five forks poised in midair over partially eaten salads. Three pairs of eyes stared accusingly at Audie, then me.

“Not to worry.” Audie grinned. “If people committed murder every time they lost a gig, I’d be a murderer several times over.”

7

August 30, 1891

Dearest Mary,

I am thankful for your godly advice. We must trust God to protect us and our land, after He guides us to the place He has chosen for us. Pardon my loving concern. I continue to seek the perfect place, and I believe I have found it.

I rode out in the Sac and Fox Nation yesterday. Patches crested a hill and a piece of Eden spread out before me. A clear river cuts through the center of a verdant valley. The soil is a rich red clay, and every kind of tree grows on the river banks. Your peach and apple orchards will thrive. Small game of rabbits and squirrel abound. It is not quite a valley, more of a gulch, really, nestled between two hills.

God willing, the land will be included in the next run.

Your loving fiancé,

Robert Grace

~

Sunday, September 22

Lost a gig? Murder?
The idea was so ridiculous that I joined the others in relieved laughter. Trust Audie to know the right thing to say.

“That’s why I like being my own boss.” Maybe I was babbling. I was trying to reassure my younger sister that I understood her feelings. I called Dina “sister” for convenience. I would do anything to protect the dear girl, even if she was now a grown-up nineteen and proud of the fact. But Audie’s comments diverted my attention. He had opened a door to his past—something he rarely did—and I wanted to find out more. “So you’ve lost a lot of gigs?” I waggled my eyebrows at Audie. “Do tell.”

“It’s the nature of acting.” Audie took the last bite of meat and crossed his knife and fork on his plate. “No one has a job for life.”

“He’s being overly modest.” Dina took a biscuit and buttered it. “Mrs. Mallory told us all about him when she introduced him to the cast. Plays, commercials, even some films. You were a pretty much a bigwig in Chicago.” She shook her finger at Audie.

“Well, I had some success.” A blush spread across his pale cheeks.

“I want to hear all about it.” Dad’s voice swung between interested host and a father interrogating a teenage boy on his daughter’s first date. “But first I want a slice of pecan pie.”

Every year we spent hours shelling twenty pounds of nuts from the pecan harvest, which Dina turned into delicious pies and toppings and cakes. She surprised us all by taking home economics and becoming the best baker in the family. I poured cups of coffee—nothing goes better with dessert than hot, black coffee—and we retired to the living room, bringing the coffee pot with us. “Who wants ice cream with the pie?” I asked. Audie and Jenna said yes. Although she bought organic vegetables when possible, Jenna liked her comfort foods.

I wondered how our lived-in parlor looked to a sophisticated man like Audie. Our sleeper sofa, bought for Jenna’s occasional trips home while she attended college, sagged at one end. Before I could warn Audie about the spring he should avoid, our dog and cat jumped into place and curled together. Ralphie the dog slept there every chance he got and his weight had pressed it down over the years as his bulk increased. Jenna plopped down next to the animals. She crooned over them and scratched the pony-sized dog under his chin.

I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and rejoined Audie on the loveseat. My scheming sisters made sure the seating turned out that way. I was pleased that Jenna hadn’t claimed the spot.

From her place at the corner of the couch, Dina leaned forward, deep in discussion with Audie. She wanted to know every detail of his time with the Chicago Shakespeare Theater troupe.

“Why Shakespeare?” I asked. “Wasn’t there a company devoted to Oscar Wilde?”

Audie laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Maybe I should have started one. But by the time the CST offered me a position, I’d had enough of waiting tables and doing the odd play every now and then. I appreciated the steady work.”

“Tell us about the films Mrs. Mallory mentioned,” Dina said.

“I was a bit actor in a couple of tragedies. Blink, and you’d miss me.”

“Oh? Which ones?” I asked. I would never admit that the only Shakespeare films I had seen were
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
with a young Mickey Rooney and the 1960s version of
Romeo and Juliet
that every high school freshman watched.

“
King Lear
.
Merchant of Venice
. That’s the extent of my film career.”

A lot of aspiring actors would love to have even that much.

“So what made you decide to leave fame and fortune for rural Oklahoma?” Dad asked the question that had occupied my mind ever since Audie’s arrival in our town. I had heard his practiced answer—“I felt that it was time for a change”—but it still puzzled me, and I wanted to know more.

“I realized that I was never going to win an Oscar or an Emmy or a Tony, and I didn’t like the person I was becoming in pursuit of fame. I was afraid that I was making theater my god.” Audie stood up and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “I thought about giving up the theater altogether. But I couldn’t seem to let it go. Like Wilde, ‘I love acting. It is so much more real than life.’ ” His face twisted in a smile.

“I’m so glad you stuck with it!” Dina tucked her leg under her. “You’re so good
at what you do. It’s a God-given gift.”

Be quiet. I wanted Audie to continue sharing his heart.

He obliged. “I still hadn’t decided when I went on a missions trip with my church’s youth group. I helped them do mimes and puppet shows and stuff like that. Everywhere we went, people gathered. God reminded me that there is a whole world of theater outside of the cities. Like any art form, theater isn’t bad by itself. The question was how God wanted me to use the gifts He had given me.”

Audie’s insight touched me. “Like fashion.” I waved at my outfit for the day. “Fashions come and go. There is nothing wrong in wanting to look your best. But when you spend too much money on it, or worry too much about it. . .” I stopped, embarrassment overtaking my enthusiasm.

“Exactly.” The smile Audie turned in my direction made my worries float away. “I asked God what He wanted me to do with theater—if anything. Large parts of the country are hungry for live theater. I felt God was calling me to do something about it.” He paused and moderated his excited tones. “So I put my name out there. When Magda contacted me about becoming director at the MGM, I jumped at the opportunity.”

Magda Grace Mallory is Grace Gulch’s biggest supporter of the arts. I’d heard rumors of a proposed fine arts complex. For now she supported a music center where kids from nine to ninety-two could study. Today’s pit orchestra resulted from that effort. The benefits trickled down to high school; our marching band won more competitions than the football team they supported.

But theater was Mrs. Mallory’s first love. She managed the community theater for years. After she bought the old Grace Gulch Orpheum and rechristened it the Magda Grace Mallory Theater, she decided to look for a professional replacement. Audie accepted the position on a year’s trial basis. I was holding my breath, hoping he would decide to make Grace Gulch his permanent home.

“And nothing has happened to make me regret my decision.” Audie looked straight at me. “In fact, I think it’s the best choice I’ve ever made.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I looked at the floor to hide the telltale blush. Like a tracker in hunting season, he was pursuing me with persistence and considerable charm. No wonder I found him irresistible. If only he decided to stay—

“Not even death at high noon?” Jenna wiggled her eyebrows in that exaggerated way of hers.

I held my breath. Audie laughed. “Not even that. I confess that I expected Grace Gulch to be crime free.”

Dina snickered. She read the local police blotter with avid interest. Like any other town, Grace Gulch had its share of drunks and petty theft. She told me about a few of her own harmless pranks from her last year in high school. After the fact, of course. Mayor Ron still wondered who had papered the cedar tree in his front yard on New Year’s Eve. But I thought I knew what Audie meant: free of major crimes, not minor misdemeanors.

“Murders were a dime a dozen in Chicago. They didn’t even rate prime time coverage unless someone notable was involved.” Audie’s face sobered. “I never had a front row seat before. I never knew the victim.”

No one seemed to know how to respond.

Dad retired to bed shortly after that, and Audie and I said good-bye to Dina and Jenna. With the energy snapping between them, I knew that they would spend the hours until dawn in an all-night gab fest. I almost wanted to stay. I was as wired as they were, given everything that had happened.

“Good night, you two,” Jenna called after us. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Her laughter followed us out into the hallway.

Audie retrieved my cape from the coat rack near the front door and draped it over my shoulders. He descended the front steps first, then held out his hand to steady my arm. I felt like a lady of a hundred years ago, a rare, precious thing that triggered a man’s desire to protect. He kept up the charade by opening the car door, and then closing it after I settled in the seat. Chariots come in many makes and sizes, and this particular model was quite comfortable.

A few minutes later Audie pulled up in front of my house. The afternoon rain left the sky crystal clear, every star a pinpoint of light in the black box of the sky. I looked at the familiar constellations. “Look at that.” I sighed. “What is it that Job says? Something about bringing out the bear with her cubs?”

“I’d rather look at you.”

I felt his gaze on my face and turned toward him. The pale light suited him, shadows making peaks and valleys of his features. His eyes looked darker. Was it a trick of the light? Then he leaned forward, and I forgot about the stars.

Our lips brushed once, and then again. Light exploded within me, fireworks worthy of the Fourth of July, not a chilly September evening. Then Audie pulled back, and darkness descended. He smiled, a dear half smile, and ran a thumb across my mouth. “You have unexpected fire inside of you, Miss Wilde.”

He walked me to my door and waited until I went inside. I heard his feet traipsing down the front steps. A wave of light-headedness washed over me, and I leaned against the doorjamb, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush instead of a responsible, twenty-nine going on forever businesswoman. A cool breeze wafted through the screen door and brought me to my senses. Like it or not, it was time for bed. While I undressed, I studied my garments. The blouse shirtwaist needed dry cleaning, but the skirt could go another day once I brushed off the mud from the hem. For tomorrow I planned on wearing a cadet blue velvet walking-dress with a tiered hemline that allowed my legs to move freely, and a hip-hugging jacket adorned with white piping. It always made me feel attractive.

I went through the motions of my nightly routine, although I decided against brushing my hair one hundred strokes. My hair stuck out at odd angles after the rain. The only cure was a deep conditioning after the next shampoo. I grabbed my Bible and read a few verses, and then prayed about everything that had happened. Once again, I asked that I would not be jealous of the relationship between Jenna and Dina. The hands on the clock skipped over midnight, but I couldn’t settle down to sleep. Thoughts of Audie, the suspicions thrown on Cord and Dina, Jenna’s reappearance in our lives, and Cord’s theories about the gunshot fought for priority in my head. For a few minutes I focused on the murder, seeking ways to salvage Dina’s reputation. That was the most important thing, wasn’t it? But my rebellious thoughts wandered back to Audie. How long would a talented and experienced actor remain in little old Grace Gulch? Was I in danger of losing my heart to a man who would move on to greener pastures before long? I remembered his comments on seeking God’s will and tried to leave my worries in the Almighty’s hands. After that, sleep came quickly.

~

The few hours of sleep that I managed refreshed me more than expected. I woke with renewed purpose and with a clear idea of my plans for the day. I wanted to bask in memories of Audie’s kiss, but I needed to find out who was in front of the Gulch at the time of the gunfight. I started coffee brewing and dialed Dina’s cell phone.

She answered on the second ring. “Hey, sis. What’s up?” Energy bounced through her words as if she had been up for hours. Perhaps she had. In fact, she might never have gone to bed. Ah, to have that kind of stamina!

I cleared my throat. “I have a question. You were in the Gulch just before the shooting, right?”

“Yeah. I went outside when Cord and Mr. Hardy galloped by.”

“Do you remember who else was there?” I held my breath. Dina often focused on a single object to the exclusion of everything else. Her interest in the play might have blinded her to anything going on around her.

“Let me think.” I imagined her wrinkling her forehead under her impossibly red hair. “Mitch was there, taking pictures for the
Sequoian
. Mrs. Hardy was there, bragging about her husband’s part in the play.” Her voice turned sad. “Poor Mrs. Hardy. How awful for her.”

That was another item to add to my to-do list. Visit Penn Hardy’s widow, Gwen.

“And Mayor Ron was there, of course, carrying on like the reenactment was his idea.” She giggled. “At least one good thing came out of the shooting.”