Larceny and Lace (9 page)

“"That’'s right; I hasn’'t.”"

Lytton chuckled. “"She’'s had a hard forty-eight hours, sir.”" My father sighed. “"This way to her bedroom.”"

I rode up in Werner’'s arms, mine around his neck, my head resting there. He placed me on my bed and I missed his heartbeat. “"Who moved my cloud?”" The drifty, out-of-body sensation I remembered with fondness had passed. So I was forced to curl into myself.

“"Fee will take care of her.”" My father’'s voice drifted away. Aunt Fiona’'s perfume, like a blanket of warmth, covered me. For the first time in days, I drifted in dreamless and endless peace.

“"Damned light, again,”" I snapped, opening my eyes, against my better judgment.

“"Chill, Mad. It’'s about time.”" Eve handed me a latte. “"Your dad said you’'ve been asleep for hours. You don’'t look like you spent the night with the Wiener. Are the gossips wrong about that, too?”"

Sixteen
Elegance is fluid. It consists of desire and knowledge, grace, refinement, perfection, and distinction.

—--RENE GRUAU

“"Me? Spend the night with the Wiener!”" I sat up fast. “"Are you out of your mind?”"

“"Shush,”" Eve said. “"They’'re saying that Fiona and your dad spent the night together, too.”"

Memory alert. I looked up, saw my dad coming toward the foot of my bed, and wondered how much he’'d heard.

“"Fiona was shut in a casket last night, Eve,”" he said. “"I think you’'ll grant that she had a right to be upset.”"

Eve looked contrite. “"Of course.”"

“"I granted it from the get-go, Dad, but you mocked her.”"

“"I’'ve never been more sorry about anything. She’'s a wreck. That’'s why she stayed the night. In Sherry’'s room. I slept in my own.”"

I winked. “"You should have put her in Brandy’'s room so you could have experienced the full roller-coaster scope of the getaway tree.”" Every one of his children who ever sneaked a date up to our rooms—--and we all did—--sent them home via the tree outside Brandy’'s room, which is how it became known as “"the getaway tree.”"

Bit of a sore spot with my father.

The thundercloud himself handed me one of my mother’'s plates bearing one of Fiona’'s famous homemade cinnamon rolls. Hmm.

“"It’'s three o’'clock, Madeira. And Eve,”" he added, “"for your information, Madeira spent a few hours at Vintage Magic last night, and after the playhouse fire was under control, Detective Werner brought her home.”"

A shred of memory rolled in, and I sat straight up to dislodge it, nearly spilling my latte. “"Uh, where’'s Chakra?”"

My cat jumped on the bed. “"Oh, sweetie, thank goodness.”"

“"No worries. She rode in with you and your knight. He’'s waiting downstairs to see you.”"

“"Nick? Nick’'s home already?”" I put my cup on the nightstand and jumped out of bed.

Eve chuckled. “"Do you remember nothing about last night?”"

“"It’'s fuzzy, and what’'s with the gossip?”"

“"Jump in the shower,”" Eve said. “"And come down as soon as you can.”" Fifteen minutes later, wearing a black tent dress and two-tone flats, I sat across from the Wiener and my father in the gentleman’'s parlor. “"I thought Nick was here,”" I muttered.

Eve shook her head almost in warning. “"He’'s on assignment, remember?”"

“"Oh,
you
wanted to see me, Detective?”"

“"Ms. Cutler,”" he said, “"before we left your shop last night—--”"

“"
We
left my shop last night?”"

Eve shook her head at me.

“"What?”" I asked.

“"Selective memory. It’'s so accommodating. Mad’'s blocking it,”" Eve told Werner as she sat on the arm of my chair.

Werner looked confused, an emotion I embraced, then lightning struck. “"That was
you
last night!”"

Werner rubbed the side of his nose. “"Guilty.”"

“"For what?”" I asked suspiciously.

“"Please remember that I wasn’'t up there alone,”" he said. What did I do, kiss him or something? Had I called him a Wiener? If not, I probably should have. I held on to the chair’'s arms as memory tried to rush me, but I managed to push it away. “"Eve, what did you say about gossip? Never mind. Screw the gossip. I have to think.”"

I got up to pace, the heat in my face making me want to open a window, October or not.

Werner obviously took my movement as a sign to continue. “"As I was saying, last night I saw your cat batting around an object of great interest. It seemed to come from beneath the body drawers in your storage room. Do you know what was under there?”" My heart stopped as I turned, but when Werner opened an evidence box, and I saw the skeletal appendage inside, some kind of trip switch got hit that restarted my heart double time.

I’'m afraid it said a lot about our knowledge that neither Eve nor I ran screaming from the room, because my father sure looked poleaxed.

“"Before you say anything,”" Eve warned, her hand on my shoulder. “"He already
interrogated
me, and I caved like a kid caught with crib notes at a final exam. Detective Lytton Werner knows all.”"

Werner wore a look of smug satisfaction.

I crossed my arms. “"Why ask me questions you know the answers to?”"

“"Details,”" he said. “"Different people notice different things.”" Okay, so if I told him the truth, I’'d be fine. “"Fine. Ask away.”"

“"What I didn’'t tell Ms. Meyers,”" Werner said, “"is that a body, charred beyond recognition, was found in the rubble of the playhouse.”"

“"That’'s horrible.”" I swallowed hard.

“"The bones, most of which have been broken, have to be sent to an FBI lab for DNA testing, but judging by the pelvic bone, a local forensics team was able to identify the remains as female between the ages of twenty and thirty, never had children. Death happened approximately thirty-five years ago. Cause unknown.”" Nausea rose in me. I stood. “"I need a cracker or I’'m going to be sick.”" Wishing I’'d eaten that cinnamon roll, I ran for the kitchen, but Fiona met me with a cracker box. I dug in, grabbed one, and inhaled it, letting it fill the caffeine-raw hole in my quivering stomach. Werner watched with concern. Scrap, so did everyone else.

I ate another, and another, until the nausea passed. I took a deep breath, kept the box, and returned to the sofa. “"Sorry.”" I looked at the contents of Werner’'s evidence box and turned to Eve. “"Probably
not
from a dinosaur, a bear, or a bizarro dog, then.”" Werner raised both brows. “"You thought it belonged to an animal?”" I could either nod here or be honest. “"We hoped it belonged to an animal. We hoped
hard
.”"

“"Hard enough,”" Eve said, “"to go looking for Vinney Carnevale to ask him if he broke in, instead of calling you about them, because the guy who broke in looked a lot like Vin. I suspected,”" Eve added, “"though I didn’'t say so, that he took the rest of the bones that belonged to that . . . set you’'ve got there. We did plan to call you after we confronted Vinney.”"

“"Animal bones.”" Werner closed the box and put it aside, praise be. “"Puts a different spin on obstruction of justice and tampering with evidence and a crime scene,”" he muttered as he made a few notes.

What a relief. Eve and I weren’'t screwed then?

“"Madeira, Ms. Meyers said that you had
two
break-ins last night. Why didn’'t you call the police the first time?”"

“"Dad?”" I said. “"Do you have that report from our night watchman?”" My father went for it and gave it to me.

I handed it to Werner. “"That’'s why I didn’'t call for either break-in. You know, I think maybe it was Vinney who broke in both times
and
maybe while I was away. I also think that the first fire last night was convenient. I mean, it got us out of my building so something could be taken away in that old mailbag.”"

“"For argument’'s sake, let’'s call the contents bones,”" Werner said, scribbling furiously on his notepad. “"An old mailbag,
not
a sack.”"

“"Oops,”" Eve said. “"I forgot.”"

“"Details. That’'s why I’'m talking to Mad, er, Ms. Cutler, too.”" Werner read the construction company watchman’'s report, frowned, and held it up. “"Can I take this?”" he asked me.

“"Sure. I have a copy.”"

“"I’'ll make one for myself and return this; it’'s the original.”"

“"Fine.”"

“"Now, what do you need to know, Detective? I’'ll tell you everything.”" Except about Isobel and the abandoned well, because I didn’'t know if they meant anything at all beyond mixed messages and bad dreams. In my second vision, I didn’'t know if I’'d been falling into the well I’'d seen in the first.

Handing Werner clues—--if they were clues—--out of thin air would make him suspicious. When my sister was a murder suspect, I’'d fed him the clues from my psychometric readings of certain vintage clothing items in a roundabout way. But I couldn’'t be that lucky twice.

Revealing my knowledge directly and prematurely would be like switching on a flashing neon sign: Maddie’'s Psychic. Maddie’'s Psychic. A nut. Not to be trusted.

Nobody would say as much but everyone would be thinking: “"Sure, she can read vintage clothes. Get her a vintage straightjacket to read.”" I dug into the box for another cracker, but Fiona traded me the box for a hot ham and egg sandwich on a roll.

“"Bless you,”" I said. “"I forgot to eat yesterday. Oh, this is delicious, like a handheld omelet.”"

She offered egg sandwiches all around, but only Eve took her up on the offer.

“"I have to get down to my shop and get ready for my grand opening,”" I said. “"Are you finished with your questions, Detective?”"

“"Not quite.”"

I looked out toward our driveway. “"Do you want to talk in your car on the way to Vintage Magic?”" My face warmed, again, at the thought of being alone with him. “"Because I seem to have misplaced my rental.”"

Werner stood. “"You talk. I’'ll drive. But you can’'t work in your shop today. It’'s a crime scene.”"

“"The whole shop!”"

Seventeen
The intoxication obtained from wearing certain articles of clothing can be as powerful as that induced by a drug.

-BERNARD RUDOFSKY

“"Before you leave, Madeira,”" Aunt Fiona said, “"can we talk for a minute? The subject is important and time sensitive.”"

I questioned Werner with a look about delaying our departure, since he was driving.

“"Go ahead. I have some calls to make,”" he said. “"I’'ll be outside.”" Eve grabbed her keys and followed Werner to the door. “"I’'ll meet you at your shop in about an hour.”"

My dad went silently up the stairs.

Aunt Fiona and I sat at the keeping room table. “"Thanks for the sandwich. I really needed it.”"

“"You shouldn’'t go so long without eating.”"

“"You sound like Mom when I used to forget to eat because I was too busy dressing my Barbies.”"

“"All twenty of them.”" Aunt Fiona sat forward and took my hand. “"I’'m sorry about the delay in preparing for your grand opening, sweetie. I have a timing problem, too, and I’'m thinking that maybe we can help each other.”"

“"What is it?”"

“"I’'m the chairman of the White Star Circle of Spirit, Southeast Connecticut Chapter. We sponsor a Halloween costume ball every year, but this year, we’'ve lost our location. We were booked into Sampson’'s ballroom, but it’'s gone.”"

“"How can I help?”"

“"I’'ve been on the phone to our board members all morning, and we were wondering if you’'d let us hold our costume ball upstairs at your place? Please. We’'ll publicize it as your grand opening ball, sponsored by the Circle of Spirit, and invite the general public. That’'s a huge room you’'ve got.”"

“"Three thousand square feet,”" I said, but I sat back stunned. “"It’'s got rough-hewn timber beamed ceiling and walls. Never was, never will be, a ballroom.”"

“"All the better for Halloween. Caskets and hearses and spiderwebs. Oh my.”"

“"That’'s right,”" I said, picturing it. “"We could use the funereal rubble as decorations. Except that we wouldn’'t be able to see them. There’'s no electricity up there.”"

“"I thought of that. Our rental fee is enough to pay for you to have electricity and lights put in, as the place stands right now. One of our members is a licensed Connecticut electrician, and he and his crew are prepared to drop everything and wire your upstairs as soon as we give him the go-ahead.”"

I shook my head. “"I wouldn’'t
charge
you.”"

“"In this case, I insist, because we’'re forcing you to get work done before your budget allows. The price is not negotiable.”"

“"I was planning to set up a workspace up there as soon as possible, in the back corner, a sewing room. Would that be a problem?”"

“"It’'s a necessity. I’'ve been waiting for you to come home so you could fit me for a costume. Our theme is classic movie characters. A lot of our members were waiting for you to come home, too. They’'re sure that your vintage treasures will fit their movie character needs.”"

“"I love it. Oh. Can Dolly come to the ball, too? She can wear her Katharine Hepburn as Tracy Lord wedding gown from
The Philadelphia Story
. She has so few chances to wear it.”"

“"You mean the dress she wore to your sister Sherry’'s wedding?”" Aunt Fiona asked.

“"Dolly told me that she was planning to go and meet Dante in it. I was afraid she’'d die right there at the wedding.”"

“"So was I,”" I admitted. “"I was never so happy to see someone leave.”" I watched Aunt Fiona go to the kitchen and her offer registered. “"You’'d be bringing me customers! I’'m as thrilled about that as I am about helping you and having lights upstairs.”"

“"The place is huge,”" she said, putting a cinnamon bun down in front of me. “"Your sewing corner won’'t bother us. And if you’'re worried about us touching anything, we could put up screens.”"

I inhaled the bun. “"We’'ll have to move fast. As soon as the police clear out?”"

“"The circle is ready if you are.”"

I applauded. “"As for the ball, I’'m more excited for Dolly than I am for myself, even though it’'ll be a great opportunity to show off my shop. I’'d love to get some of my outfits on mannequins, however bare the downstairs might still be at that point, so people who come to the ball can get an idea of what I plan for Vintage Magic. And I’'d like to furnish the lounge area leading to the dressing rooms before then, too. Come shopping with me this week?”"