Let There Be Suspects (18 page)

She didn’t give me a chance to comment. “Esther is a wonderful organist, but I just think the volume is too high.” Norma continued the monologue as my gaze flicked to my husband. Ed was draining of color.

“Norma . . .” I waited a second and repeated her name a little louder. “Norma!”

She stopped, looking perplexed.

“I have to talk to Ed, will you excuse us?” I linked my arm through my husband’s and steered him into his study. I closed the door the moment we were over the threshold.

“I was paralyzed,” he said.

I kissed him. “She’s really a very nice woman. Can we buy a set of color-coordinated gags?”

“I’ve talked to her about listening more and talking less. She says it’s a habit. Eventually she’ll run out of things to say.”

“Nope. She’ll just start all over again.”

“You disappeared after the service. What happened?”

I told him quickly. “And last but not least, Carol Ann told me Ginger got a woman named Mabyn fired at the station in Cincinnati.”

He put his hands on my arms and held me in place. “Aggie, the Booths are off limits.”

“No one is off limits.”

“Please, find somebody who’s not in the congregation to pin this on, okay?” He must have realized what he’d said because he frowned. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be involved in this investigation.”

“Of course I’m involved. My sister’s the chief suspect. My foster sister was the victim.”

“Good reasons to stay out of it. What is this, some weird kind of family bonding ritual? One sister killed, one sister under suspicion, one sister solving the crime? What’s left for poor Vel? Oh, I know, she gets to cater the whole thing!”

I couldn’t help myself. I giggled. Call it nerves.

He tightened his grip. “Aggie!” But he didn’t look angry enough to worry me.

I disciplined the giggle. “I’m just asking some questions. I’m going to tell Roussos everything I’ve found out. I’ll keep him in the loop, and I won’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I don’t want Sid going to jail.”

Ed dropped his hands to his sides. “You don’t have anything there that will interest Roussos.”

“Then I’ll have to find more.” This time I kissed his cheek. “We’re going to have a houseful of company until this is settled. And I hear Cliff is staying in town?”

“He says he wants to stay until there’s a lead. But I think he’s just afraid to go back to a lonely house.”

“The hotel isn’t cheap. Especially not a suite like he has.”

“Apparently money’s not much of an issue.”

“Carol Ann said Ginger probably didn’t make much on the cookbook.”

“Then it’s Cliff’s money.”

I told Ed about my conversation with Vel and my plans to drive her to Cincinnati tomorrow to catch a plane home. Then I tiptoed to the door and listened. I didn’t hear footsteps. I didn’t hear humming, the sound of papers being rattled, the watering of plants, the donning of a coat.

“I think she’s gone,” I whispered.

“You first,” Ed whispered back. “If you’re brave enough to find a murderer, you’re brave enough to go out there.”

I glared at him, then I opened the door. Norma was standing about six feet away, reaching for the ceiling, one arm raised, then another.

I wondered if I could sneak around the exercise session, but it wasn’t to be. She turned at the first footfall on the tile floor.

“I didn’t even tell you how sorry I am about your foster sister,” Norma said. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. I never had a sister. I had one brother, and he was up to no good my entire childhood. He left home at sixteen and calls now and then but—”

I listened and pictured the
National Geographic
special I’d seen about cobras. First they rise in the air, then they sway and hypnotize their prey. I was slowly being hypnotized. I wondered what Norma would do when I no longer had any will of my own . . .

“Heading out.” I shook my head to clear it. “Heading out. I have to go home. It was nice talking to you, Norma.”

“Of course I hardly had the opportunity to know Ginger,” Norma said, undeterred. “I only saw her that once at your open house. Actually, that’s not true. I only saw her outside talking to somebody. Actually it looked more like an argument. Now I wish I’d heard what was being said, but of course I was minding my own business, the way anybody would in that situation. I—”

I’d nearly missed the wheat in the chaff. I moved closer. “You say you saw Ginger arguing with somebody?”

“Well, you know, I got there late. I mean, the party was nearly over on account of this bunion on my big toe and my not finding comfortable shoes. And when I finally got there, things were, well, kind of a mess, you know? What with punch all over the floor and broken glass and—”

“You saw her outside?”

“Oh, yes. She looked so angry. I guess the punch had gotten on that pretty blouse she was wearing and—”

“Where exactly was she?”

“Oh, on the side of your house. The side facing the back of the church. And the other woman—”

“Woman?”

“Yes, she was talking to a woman. Remember how cold it was? Well neither of them had coats on. It’s amazing how these young people can tolerate the cold. I mean, I’m from South Dakota, but you wouldn’t catch me outside without a sweater and a coat, hat, and—”

I took her hand and squeezed to quiet her. “Who was the woman, do you know?”

“Well, no, I only caught a glimpse, you see. She had her back to me, and I still don’t know everybody, I’m afraid. I just remember because it was odd they were arguing out there in the cold.”

“Describe her. And how do you know they were arguing?”

“She was shaking her fist. Ginger, I mean, like she wanted to scare off the other woman, but that one, she was standing her ground. She was young. Let’s see. Brown hair, kind of dark and shiny. Lucky hair, the kind that just curves perfectly, if you know what I mean. Not real long or short. And she was wearing a gold sweater. Dull gold, with just a little sparkle to it. And something black under it. But that’s all I saw. The sweater was so pretty I wished I had one like it.”

I had wished the same thing when I’d seen Mabyn’s gold sweater at the open house. Mabyn of the chocolate brown hair and the excellent fashion sense.

“What exactly did you hear them saying?”

Norma looked sad. “Not much, I’m afraid.” She leaned closer. “I tried to hear, but they weren’t very loud. I only heard Ginger say something about sin in the attic. Or maybe it was Cincinnati. I wasn’t sure.”

I thanked her and before she could respond, I took off for home. I needed final confirmation that our Mabyn was the same Mabyn Ginger had axed at the television station, but I thought I might be one step closer to solving my foster sister’s murder.

 
Cheering up my mother and sisters was out of the question. But providing a little comfort seemed doable. We had gone through all the party goodies over the holidays, and I suspect Vel was only loading my refrigerator with substantial, hearty fare. After leaving the church I decided to walk up to the bakery and see if there was anything interesting left in the case. Sometimes the owner gives me a bargain at day’s end.

I was so deep in thought that I almost missed Roussos. This is the great thing about a small town. This is also the bad thing. You can’t walk the streets without running into somebody you know. In this case, I was glad to see my personal homicide detective on the sidewalk.

“Mrs. Wilcox.” He nodded. The smile was tentative, the greeting formal. Investigating someone’s kid sister for murder will do that to a relationship.

“Detective. I was going to look you up.” I stopped, forcing him to do the same, but he didn’t look pleased.

“Why?”

This was not a man who indulged in small talk. I forced a smile. “How were your holidays?”

He lifted a brow. As always I was all too aware what an attractive guy he is. I’m just careful not to let Kirkor Roussos into my fantasies.

“Your holidays?” I repeated.

“I worked.”

Unfortunately I knew at what. “As a matter of fact, so did I. I’ve found out a few things about Ginger you might want to know.”

He crossed his arms over a black leather jacket that was just worn enough to be intriguing. I remembered how wonderful it felt from a previous encounter. I want that jacket.

“Why am I not surprised?” he said.

“Don’t tell me this isn’t any of my business. We know it is.”

“Your business is comforting your family.
My
business is finding a murderer.”

“I can do more than one thing at a time. And who has more of an investment in the outcome than I do? Besides Sid, of course.”

“What have you found out?” He said it with a “so you’ll leave me alone” note in his voice.

“Ginger was a big problem to the people she worked with, both at her publisher and earlier at the television station. I talked to her former assistant who didn’t have a good thing to say. I can give you her number. She lives in Kentucky, but she claims she has an alibi.”

He nodded and didn’t look surprised or particularly interested.

“She also told me that Ginger was responsible for getting a young woman fired at the station, and I think that same woman lives here in Emerald Springs. Someone may even have seen her arguing with Ginger during our party.”

“She has a name?”

I could just imagine siccing Roussos on the Booth family unnecessarily. Can we picture the Wilcox family packing and moving out of the parsonage and Emerald Springs under cover of darkness?

“She does have a name,” I said, “but I want to talk to her first.”

“Did somebody give you a badge? Am I missing something here?”

“She’s a member of our church.”

“I wish you’d leave this alone. You’re making me old before my time. I’m not over your last stint as a detective.”

“Hey, I was the one in the car trunk.”

“Yeah, and you seem to forget it wasn’t a trunk full of laughs.”

“Just tell me you’re looking into Ginger’s past and all the numerous people who might have wanted her dead.”

“Not a one of whom was known to be in the very place where her body was taken—”

“Taken? She wasn’t murdered where she was found?”

Roussos just looked at me. I could tell he wished I had chosen another route to the bakery.

“You think Sid could have carried Ginger to the nativity scene? She works out, but she’s not Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

He didn’t reply.

“We’re done here,” I said, reading his mind.

“We’re done.”

“Please check out the TV station and her publisher, okay?”

“We’re doing our job. You can count on that.” He nodded and left me standing there. By the time I remembered to move, the bakery had closed its doors for the day.

 
Ed was still at the church, doing heaven knows what. I suspected he was working on the order of service for Sunday. Ginger’s memorial service had taken a lot of his time.

Junie wasn’t home yet. How many old buttons can one woman admire? I was guessing that Lucy had finished off their field trip with a drive into the country. There’s a farm store about six miles from our city limits with homemade ice cream that’s too good to pass up, even in December.

Sid was on her cell phone with a colleague from the country club trying to finalize plans for their New Year’s Eve extravaganza long distance. Vel was simultaneously working on a gourmet version of plain old mac and cheese and a vegetable lasagna. The girls were still with the Frankels but expected home soon. My window of opportunity was brief. I locked myself in our bedroom and dialed WKLM. I was afraid Rand might already have left for the day, but he answered.

“I met her,” I said with excitement. “Carol Ann Riley. Ginger’s assistant. She came to the funeral.”

“Go
on!
”

“I did, and we had a nice little chat. She has an alibi, so no dice there. But she told me about someone else.” I recounted the story of Mabyn, then I told him about the fight Norma had witnessed. I knew that the more Rand felt he was in on this, the more help he would be. Me and Rand, old buddies that we are.

“Girlfriend, you are on the road!”

“I know. I know. So here’s what else I need to know. Can you find out this Mabyn’s last name? Would the records be there somewhere?”

“I don’t have to look up records. Our floor manager remembers Ginger like she was still here, and he told me some luscious stuff to pass on. You just sit there and I’ll see if he remembers the PR person.”

Luscious stuff? I could hardly believe my luck. I sang along with the orchestral version of “Grandma’s Featherbed.” No question we were into a John Denver retrospective this week.

Rand came back just in time to save me from bungling the words to “Rocky Mountain High.”

“He remembers all right,” he said triumphantly. “Her name was Mabyn Ross.”

I scribbled that down. Now I just had to find out if Mabyn Booth had been a Ross before her marriage. And I was just the gal to do it.

“Okay, you promised luscious stuff!”

“Oh, is it ever.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve got to do this quick. Evening shift takes over in a minute.”

“So what did you find out? Tell me quick.”

“Well, when Ginger caught on that she was going to lose her job, she started looking around for somebody to support her. But nobody, I mean nobody, thought she’d finally settle for the misfit inventor. He was
so
not her type.”

So much to find out, so little time. “What was her type?”

“Oh flashy, darling. And boyfriends with clout, although I hear she wasn’t picky about where it came from. The leader of the pack was a guy named Kas, and everybody expected her to—”

I waited, hardly breathing. I heard Rand’s voice in the background, like he’d turned his head away from the receiver. “Yeah, all done here and ready for the switcheroo. Just let me finish this call.”