Stay Tuned for Murder (21 page)

From the looks of her expensive dress, shoes, and jewelry, her pet cause was probably herself.

“Were you a friend of Althea’s?” she asked. I had the feeling she was only saying that as an icebreaker and was biding her time, waiting to get to the real reason for chatting with me. She was perched on the edge of the wingback chair, like a bird of paradise in her colorful dress.

“More of an acquaintance,” I said. “She was very kind when I first moved here, helping me get to know the town and find my bearings.” I smiled at the memory. Althea had brought over a homemade veggie casserole for dinner and a box of liver treats for Pugsley. Anyone who goes to that kind of trouble for a perfect stranger is a rare find, in my book.

“Oh, yes,” Shalimar said quickly. “She was very kind. A lovely person.”

I nodded, waiting. She paused, the way my patients used to do when they were revving themselves up for a big revelation and wondering how to make the segue. She nibbled at her lower lip for a moment, a small frown marring her finely chiseled features.

She bit back a little sigh, and I stood up, ready to head out. She noticed me reaching for my purse and blurted out, “Actually, if you have a second, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

I sat back down. “Sure, go ahead.” I gave her an encouraging smile, and she flushed a little. She was definitely anxious or embarrassed about something, but what?

“I’m . . . um . . . I’m just fascinated by the time capsule ads you’re running at the station. And you’ve had some great guests talking about the event. I caught your show with Professor Grossman. It was brilliant.”

Time capsules? She’s fascinated by time capsules
?
And she thinks Grossman is brilliant?
I was taken aback but kept my expression neutral. “I’m glad you’re enjoying them. The time capsule shows have been a big hit at the station. We’ve gotten a lot of calls from listeners, and there are some positive responses on the WYME message boards. It seems this topic has really struck a chord with everyone.”

She widened her hazel eyes a little, still focusing on my face. It was a little unnerving, but she seemed to be waiting for me to say more, so I went on. “I think it’s a really popular subject right now, with all the talk about whether or not the town should go in for expansion or preservation.”

Shalimar blinked twice. “I don’t quite follow you.” She was no Einstein, I decided. “Expansion? Preservation?”

I took a quick peek at my watch. I really needed to be heading back to WYME to get ready for my afternoon show. “Local development. I just meant that the time capsule represents what life was like in Cypress Grove half a century ago. Life was quieter and simpler back then. And if you read the editorials in the local paper, you know that a lot of folks would like things to stay that way.”

“Really? I’d never thought of that angle. I think progress is good, but maybe some people are locked into the past.” A long beat while she inspected her apricot, too-perfect-to-be-real fingernails. “So have you come up with any inside information about what’s inside the time capsule? Did anyone think to keep a list of the contents when it was buried?”

I breathed out a little sigh. “I wish they had. We certainly haven’t been able to locate one. It would be wonderful if we could find one somewhere. As you know, all the courthouse records and the newspaper files are gone from that time. Everything was destroyed in a fire. So it’s pretty much guess-work, trying to imagine what’s in there.”

She nodded. “Yes, I heard. Tragic about the records,” she added. “All that history down the drain.” Another pause. “What’s going to happen to the items in the time capsule? When it’s opened, I mean.”

“I have no idea. I suppose if there’s anything of real value, it will be returned to the proper owner, or their family. And I guess the rest will be put on display, maybe here at the historical society.”

“Sorry to interrupt. I left my BlackBerry here.” Nick smiled and reached down to retrieve the BlackBerry from the end table.

“Nick Harrison, right?” Shalimar asked in a throaty voice. She stretched her arm straight out and extended her hand like she was Scarlett O’Hara and Nick was one of the Tarleton twins, coming to call on her.

“Er, yes,” Nick said, looking surprised. He shoved the BlackBerry in his pocket, ready to take off. He shook hands with her and then stood there, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.

“Shalimar Hennessey.” She flashed him a high-beam smile, and her lips quivered like Pugsley’s do when he sees a liver snack. “I just love your articles. They’re the first thing I read in the
Gazette
every day.”

“Well, um, thank you. That’s good to hear.” Nick shot me a “What’s going on here?” look.

“Shalimar is quite the history buff, and we were just talking about the time capsule ceremony.” I raised my eyebrows to let him know I didn’t buy it, either.

“Ah,” Nick said, clearly stalling for time. “The time capsule ceremony.”

“I’d love to hear your theory on what’s inside it,” Shalimar gushed. “I bet you have some wild ideas, being an investigative reporter and all.”

“Actually, Maggie has done more research on it than I have,” Nick said, passing the buck. He sneaked a peek at his watch. I knew he was on deadline and needed to get to the
Gazette
as soon as possible. “I’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls—”

Shalimar waved her hand. “Oh, I know what it’s like. You reporters are always running here and there.” Nick smiled and started to edge away, when Shalimar put out an arm to stop him. “I have a great idea. Why don’t you and Maggie come out to the house for dinner tomorrow night?” Her tone was soft and wheedling as she twirled a lock of flaxen hair around her finger.

Is she flirting with him? Is she up to something?
I wondered. Nick cut his eyes to me, and I gave a tiny nod. Why not go and see what it was all about? I knew he was tempted by the idea of a free dinner, and I’d heard the Hennessey mansion outside town was a showplace. I wouldn’t mind seeing it.

“Then we can kick back and talk with no deadlines hanging over you. Wouldn’t that be fun? Bobby can fire up the grill, and I make a mean margarita.”

“That’s very nice of you,” I said. I gave her a wide smile. “Nick and I can drive over there together.”

“Wonderful,” Shalimar said, clapping her hands together. “Tomorrow at six?”

“We’ll be there,” Nick told her.

I grabbed my purse, and Nick filched three ginormous brownies from the buffet table when he thought nobody was looking. As soon as we were out the front door, he leaned close and said in a low voice, “What the hell was that all about?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. But Shalimar wants something. I’m sure of it.”

“More than my charming company?” Nick said.

“Count on it.”

It was nearly one o’clock by the time I got back to the station, and my first priority was to talk to Vera Mae. To my surprise, I spotted Chantel in the break room, drinking coffee and reading the
Palm Beach Post
as I hurried down the hallway. She lifted a hand in greeting and waggled her fingers at me, her gold bracelets jangling. She looked absorbed, probably trying to figure out a way to snare some more publicity for herself.

I managed a thin smile and continued straight down the corridor to Vera Mae’s office. I was in no mood to chitchat about the spirit world with our resident psychic. I had some serious sleuthing to do, but first I had to find out whether Chantel was going to be a permanent fixture here.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” Vera Mae was at her cluttered desk, sorting through some promo material on the time capsule. It looked like all our local sponsors were trying to get into the act and were coming up with some wacky giveaways. “Take a look at this, Maggie. I wonder if it’s legit.”

She handed me a sixty-second spot for Sidney’s Dry Cleaning. Sidney was offering a year’s worth of dry-cleaning services to anyone who could answer a question about the contents of a time capsule buried in Peru.

“Do you suppose he’s making that up? Who knows if there’s a time capsule buried in Peru? And how would he know the right answer?” She gave a little snort. “If you ask me, Sidney Truett is as crooked as a pretzel. The last time we ran a contest for him, he made sure his brother-in-law won. I complained to Cyrus about it, but nothing happened.”

I skimmed over the copy and handed it back to her. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s probably a trick question. The Peru time capsule probably doesn’t even exist, and no one’s going to bother entering. I bet everyone’s on to Sidney and his games.”

A sudden thought flashed through my head. What if the Cypress Grove time capsule didn’t exist, or was empty? I thought of Geraldo Rivera opening Al Capone’s vault all those years ago. After all the hoopla, the vault was empty. Still, it was unlikely that the town’s time capsule would be empty, wasn’t it? I let the thought drift away; there were too many pressing things to consider.

“You look worried, sugar.” Vera Mae’s voice snapped me right back to the present. She was giving me an odd look as if I’d zoned out for quite a while.

“Not worried, just thoughtful.” I took a deep breath. “Vera Mae, I’d like to run something by you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

She passed me a bowl of M&M’S and I waved it away. “Uh-oh, this must be serious.” She sat back in her chair, folded her arms over her ample chest, and pushed her reading glasses up on her head.

“It’s about Chantel,” I blurted out. “Please don’t tell me she’s doing my show today. I just saw her sitting in the break room.”

“Yep, she’s sitting there, big as life, hon.” She sifted through the M&M’S, looking for the chocolate ones. “Is that what you’re worried about? Well, I can put your mind at rest on that score.” Vera Mae motioned for me to push her office door closed. She picked up a pencil from a jar on her desk and started fidgeting with it. I knew something was up, because she only does this when she’s teed off about something.

“It’s Cyrus,” she said finally in a low voice, her mouth twisting. “He’s got some darn-fool idea that maybe we should give her a regular show. Just on a trial basis, I mean. And only twice a week, not every day.”

“
Only
twice a week? Her own show?” I pulled a pile of papers off the visitor’s chair and sat down. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. Once she gets her own show, there will be no stopping her.”

I could hardly get my mind around the notion of Chantel being a regular on WYME. I’d always suspected that Chantel was going to steamroll right over my
On the Couch
show with some talk-to-the-dead nonsense that listeners would lap up. And now my worst fears were coming true. I suppose I’d been in denial all this time, and now the truth was hitting me like a ton of bricks.

“Now, don’t go getting your panties in a twist,” Vera Mae cautioned. “Nothing is definite yet. This is all in the planning stages.”

“She’s in direct competition with me,” I moaned. “How can I compete with voices from the beyond?”

“Now, that’s not true at all. You’re just putting a really negative spin on this, and that’s not like you at all.” Vera Mae grabbed a Twizzler from a jar on her desk and offered me one. When I shook my head, she went on, “You have a really loyal fan base, Maggie, and nothing’s going to change that. People love your show, and you really help them. Well, some of them,” she added after a beat.

“Then why does WYME need another show?” I hated the petulance in my voice, but I couldn’t shake off the depressive gloom that had settled over me.

She gave a helpless little wave of her hand. “I think it’s just the novelty that appeals to people. We’ve never had a psychic in Cypress Grove before. And somehow the time capsule is connected with it.”

“I don’t see how it could be.” I put my elbow on her desk and cupped my chin in my hand. “The two things aren’t connected, and anyway, that’s not why Chantel came to town. She came to Cypress Grove to work on her book. Or so she said,” I added darkly. As far as I knew, there wasn’t any new book in the works. After that first pronouncement, Chantel had never mentioned it again.

Which led me to the question: why was she really here? “I wish I knew what was really going on with her.”

“Well, here’s the thing, Maggie.” Vera Mae’s cell phone chirped, and she glanced at the screen before shaking her head. “It can go to voice mail,” she said coolly. “Now, getting back to Chantel. Here’s the connection, at least the way I see it. The time capsule has sort of gotten people to thinking about their past, and their ancestors. They’re even thinking about the town’s past in a way they never have before. Brenda down at the Dollar Store said there’s been a big rush on those old postcards that show Cypress Grove at the turn of the century.”

“There wasn’t much here then. Just swamp.”

“I know, but they’re still fascinated by it. Brenda said they can’t keep them in stock. And they like the ones from the fifties, with those old Buicks and Corvettes. People are just eating this stuff up.”

“I still don’t see what any of this has to do with Chantel,” I said glumly.

“Chantel is all about dead people,” Vera Mae said. “You know, the past.” She stared hard at me, to see whether it was sinking in. “People we used to know who have passed. Wouldn’t you like to say a few words to your deceased relatives?”

“I suppose so,” I said grudgingly. I thought about my aunt Arleen, who ruined every family gathering with her caustic remarks. It would be tempting to give her a piece of my mind. “I know it’s impossible, though, so I never think about it.”

“A few people have even called in to see if Chantel could try communicating with old man Paley and the folks who planted the time capsule all those years ago.” She gave a snort. “Of course, I think they’re saying that because they’re hoping for a clue as to what’s in the darn thing. They’d like to win that convertible that Ed Hays is offering down at the Around Again car lot.”