“Hey,” Jerry said, “I just realized something. You found Kirby Willet. Another triumph for Madeline Maclin Investigations.”
“Now I’ve got to find Gaskins’ killer,” I said, “and Willet has a great alibi.”
He took another handful of cookies. I looked past the TV to the picture hanging over the mantel. The swirls of abstract flowers and crescent moon was titled “Blue Moon Garden.” I’d painted it in college. It was the most successful of my paintings. After my disastrous art exhibit, I’d thrown it away. Jerry had rescued it from the garbage.
He saw me looking at “Blue Moon Garden.” “How’s your latest picture coming along?”
“It’s not bad. How’s your job search?”
“Well, I think from our experience tonight we can see that I have an excellent future as a mantis magnet.”
“Attracting eccentric inventors dressed as large insects doesn’t count.”
“I should’ve asked Willet if he knew my uncle. Maybe they belonged to the same eccentric club.” He set the cookies aside. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. Why did Val leave the house to me? Why not Des? I mean, it’s worked out great, because I like the house very much, but it’s still a mystery.”
“Let me solve it,” I said.
“Okay, you’re hired.”
He smiled at me. The passionate music swelled. We were full of cookies and cola and safe after an adventure in the wilds of Celosia. Another perfect time had come.
Jerry covered a huge yawn with his hand. “All of a sudden, I’m beat. Guess the excitement of mantis busting caught up with me.”
“Me, too,” I said.
He turned off the CD. “Good night, Mac.”
“Good night.”
And another perfect time had gone.
The next morning, I checked my glued soda bottle.
“I can’t tell where I’ve glued it.”
Jerry took the bottle and opened it. “It opens just as if it were new.”
“Do you see any glue tracks?”
“Very little. If you were extremely careful, there would be none.”
Extremely careful. Hadn’t Bernice been extremely careful gluing the corners of a paperback book?
Before we went to the library, I helped Jerry pack the bat books into boxes.
“You’re sure you want to give these away?”
“I know all I need to know about bats.”
I held up a slim green volume. “What about this? It looks like a journal of some kind.”
Jerry took the book and flipped through the pages. “It’s probably about bats. Yep, right here on page thirty-five, ‘September tenth. Found a large colony of myotis lucifugus roosting in the Fosters’ barn.’” He turned another page. “And here we have a record of all bats sighted from 1975 through 1980. Useful stuff.” He tossed the book into one of the boxes. “Maybe I don’t want to know why he left the house to me.”
“Have you called Harriet?”
“Not yet.”
“Now would be a good time.”
Jerry was actually reaching for the phone when Rick Rialto sauntered in. I’d been wondering where he was, but I didn’t really want to see him, especially now.
“Hey, what’s up, Hardy Boys?” He grinned. “Or should I say Nick and Nora? Anything new to report? You’ve found the real killer, right?”
“We found the real mantis,” Jerry said, “but we don’t think he’s the culprit.”
Rick perched on the arm of the sofa. “Well, damn it, get cracking. I’m paying you good money to solve this crime.”
“No, you aren’t,” I said. “I find the killer, you leave. That’s our deal.”
“Where have you been?” Jerry asked.
“Well, things are kind of slow down at the shop, so I’ve been pursuing other avenues. Tell me about the real mantis. I’ll bet his costume wasn’t as good as mine.”
“Kirby Willet. Eccentric inventor and all around nut.”
“You’re sure he didn’t kill Gaskins?”
“If anything, Gaskins would’ve killed him. Willet was supposed to back the movie, only he never showed with the money.”
“Great. He welshed on Gaskins and then Gaskins couldn’t pay me.”
“So now we’re tracking down other people who wanted that money.”
“Which still doesn’t look good for yours truly. I stopped by the other day, but you two were out.”
“We went to Riverdale to try to find Willet’s cousin. And Mac wanted to talk to Monroe McKittrick.”
“McKittrick?”
“The fellow who painted that big picture of me, Des, and Tucker.”
“Why is he so important?”
“Seems he had an assistant named Jackson Frye who might know more about the fire.”
“Jack Frye? I used to know a small-time hustler by that name.”
“Do you know where he is?” I asked.
“No, but I could find out.”
“What sort of hustling are we talking about here?”
“Oh, Jack loved the ladies. He’d flirt with them, promise them all kinds of stuff just to get into their bedrooms, only he didn’t just want to sleep with them. He wanted to steal whatever he could find in the house, usually jewelry. He wasn’t too particular.”
“Let me get this straight, Rick. Frye would make women fall in love with him so he could rob their homes?”
“That was his m.o. Set up a midnight rendezvous. The gal lets him in. He takes what he wants, maybe gives her a kiss, and disappears into the night.”
“Why didn’t these women report him?”
“This is just my theory, you understand, but I think they were too embarrassed to admit they’d been taken in. I’ll call around, see if I can locate him.” He got up. “J, you want to scope something out with me?”
“Can’t right now. I promised Mac I’d help cart these books to the library.”
“The library? Sheesh. Catch you later.”
As soon as Rick had gone, I said, “Midnight rendezvous? Sounds like our guy.”
***
Jerry and I carried the boxes into the library. Bernice wasn’t at the desk. Joan was in the back, still sorting through boxes of books. She held up a black and blue baseball cap.
“I know Bailey Seacomb’s been looking for his Carolina Panthers hat, and here it is.”
“Here are Val Eberlin’s bat books,” I said. “Do you still want them?”
“Oh, yes. Bring them in.”
We set the boxes on the floor.
“Now, you’ve been through these, right?” Joan asked. “I don’t need any of Val’s old shoes.”
“Just books. Jerry and I cleaned off a bookcase.” I straightened and dusted my hands. “Is Bernice here today?”
“She’ll be in later. She’s finishing the cookies for the sale. We’re closing early today to set up. She should be in around five.” She took a few books from one box. “
Bats
and
Their
Habits
.
Wild
World
of
Bats
. You were right about this collection.”
“All bats all the time.”
She held up the green book. “Sure you don’t want this journal?”
“It’s a record of Val’s bat activities. We don’t need to keep it.”
As she started to put it back, a small square of paper fell from the book and sailed to the floor. I picked up the paper. “To Jack with all my love” was written on one side. I turned the paper over. It was a photo of a dark-haired young girl with a severe expression.
Harriet Fairweather.
“Do you know her?” Joan asked.
Jerry nodded. “It’s a picture of my sister.”
Why would a picture of Harriet be in Val’s journal? “Let me have another look at that journal, please,” I said.
She handed me the green book. I looked through each page, finding nothing but bat facts and bat sightings.
“If I find any more pictures, I’ll set them aside for you.” Joan said.
“Thanks.”
We sat in my car for a long while looking at Harriet’s stern young face. I turned the photo over to look at “To Jack with all my love.”
“I think we can figure out what happened, Jerry. She was too embarrassed to tell the truth. She must have let him in.”
“So I get stuck with the guilt.”
“We won’t know for sure until we talk to her.”
Jerry held out his hand for my cell phone. I gave it to him. He called his sister.
“Busy signal.”
“We could stop by her place.”
He handed me the phone. “I need some time to figure out what to say to her.” Then he sighed. “What I really need is to go to the theater and just forget the whole thing.”
“We’re close to solving this, Jerry.”
He looked at the picture of his sister’s stern young face. “Maybe Harriet’s right. Does it matter whose fault it was? It’s not going to change what happened.”
“It’s time you moved out from under her influence. Once she admits what she did, you’re going to feel a lot better about yourself.”
He gave me his serious look. “If we do solve this, and it turns out to be my fault, could you possibly consider living with someone like me?”
“I’ve been living with you.”
“I mean in a more permanent arrangement.” My heart gave a jump, but before I could say anything, he said, “You’ve been so faithful, no matter what, I just want us to start off without any baggage. I want everything to be perfect. You deserve that.”
Was he talking about marriage? Was this what he’d been trying to tell me all these times we’d been interrupted? I was afraid to ask. “Jerry, I know I’m going to find the answer. Then you should feel free to say whatever you want to say.” I reached over and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “All right?”
He nodded. “All right.”
I started the car. “Where do you want to go?”
He put the picture in his pocket. “The theater.”
Now I definitely wanted to prove Harriet was at fault. “Okay.”
***
At the theater, we interrupted an argument between Kenna and Cathy Sloop. Cathy had a redecorated “Music Man” poster. Marian the Librarian now wore a tiara, and Professor Harold Hill had sprouted antennae.
“But it would be so easy to change ‘Music Man’ to ‘Mantis Man,’” she said. “We’d save so much in posters and other publicity.”
Kenna gave me a look as if to say, “Can you believe this?” “Cathy,” she said, “it still looks like a ‘Music Man’ poster, a ‘Music Man’ poster someone has obviously defaced.”
“No, no, can’t you see? It’s Miss Mantis.”
Kenna snatched the poster and tore it in half. “Make your own posters. Leave mine alone.”
Cathy’s lower lip went out. “It was just an idea.”
“A screwy idea. Don’t you have the Miss Celosia Summertime Pageant to get through first?”
“I thought you might be interested.”
“No, thank you.” Kenna motioned to Jerry. “I’ve got a few notes for you, Jerry. Let’s use my office.”
She and Jerry went up the aisle. Cathy turned her droopy face to me. “It was just a sample. She didn’t have to tear it up.”
I helped her pick up the pieces of poster. “Not everyone shares your vision, Cathy.”
“I know.” She sat down in the front row and heaved a sigh. Mitch wasn’t with her today, so I couldn’t tell if he had decided to wear aqua blue and peach. “There’s not a lot in the budget for another pageant so close to Miss Celosia Summertime. I was looking for ways to save money.”
“You might want to wait and hold Miss Mantis in the fall.”
She sighed again. “It doesn’t seem likely it’ll happen now, not with the movie being cancelled.” She crumpled the paper. “Why did that fellow have to go and get himself killed, just when things were going so well?”
Yes, Josh Gaskins should have planned his demise more carefully. “I guess he wasn’t thinking.”
Oblivious to sarcasm, Cathy nodded. “Are you any closer to solving the mystery?”
“I have a few more people to talk to.”
“Well, I remembered something else.”
“Okay.” And how useful was this going to be?
“Mitch and I saw that assistant buying drinks in the Super Food the day Gaskins was murdered.”
“I knew that already, Cathy. Stephanie always bought the drinks. I don’t think she killed Gaskins.”
“She didn’t seem the type. Actually, she’s quite attractive. Could be a good contestant. Her mother was really unpleasant, though.”
“Her mother?”
“Some gray-haired lady was there with her. I assumed it was her mother. She said some very cutting things to Mitch and me about pageants, said they were a waste of time, and she didn’t appreciate us being in town.”
I sat down next to Cathy. “This is very important, Cathy. Can you remember anything else this woman said to you or to Stephanie?”
“I remember everything she said to me because she was so hateful. I don’t think she spoke two words to Stephanie.”
“But they were shopping together?”
“I thought they were. They were both in the drinks section. They each had about six of those big bottles in their carts.”
Bernice must have been buying refreshments for the library used book sale. Could she have switched the doctored bottle with one of Stephanie’s?
“Did they have the same kind of soda?” I asked.
“Whatever it was, it was dark with some red on the label. Mitch and I didn’t stay to chat, not with that woman being so rude to us.”
This was actually very useful information. “Thank you, Cathy.” Now I needed to talk to Stephanie. With any luck, she’d remember a certain gray-haired woman buying the same brand of soda.
***
Stephanie was sitting out by the pool at the Wayfarer Motel. Despite being in the shade of an umbrella, she drooped like a wilting flower. Several other crewmembers were reading or sunning themselves.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Not so good. I think it’s finally hit me that Josh is gone.”
“Do you feel like answering a few more questions?”
“I guess.”
“When you were in the grocery store buying drinks, did a woman approach you, ask you anything?”
“A lot of people came up to me. I guess they thought I could get them into the movie.” She shook her head. “This town’s crazy.”
“It can be at times. This woman would’ve been in her fifties, curly gray hair.”
“That description fits nearly everybody. There were some kids, of course, and a few guys who mainly wanted to hit on me, but mostly it was older women. ‘Is there a part for a mature woman? Someone who’d have a scene with Lance Henderson?’ That’s all they asked me. Lance must have been some kind of stud in his day.” Her voice was scornful. “Look at him over there with those girls. It’s revolting.”
Henderson was stretched out on a lounge chair chatting with Sue Ann and another Wayfarer employee.
“There wasn’t one who asked about something other than the movie? The woman I’m talking about would’ve spoken to you when you were getting Josh’s drinks. She would’ve bought the same kind of soda.”
She thought a moment. “I’m trying to remember.”
While she thought, I watched the other members of the “Curse of the Mantis Man” crew. Gaskins’ death didn’t seem to have affected any of them. One of the cameramen cannonballed off the diving board. Everyone laughed as the water sloshed over the sides of the pool. Two more crewmembers hopped into the water and began throwing a Frisbee back and forth.
I hadn’t seen Flynn Davis. Now he strolled across the parking lot. Donna Sanchez was with him. They made a point of ignoring Stephanie and me as they passed. Donna looked perfect in her gold bikini. Davis was equally radiant in his red Speedo.
Stephanie made a disgusted sound. “Davis thinks he’s God’s gift.”
“So does Donna.”
“He does this everywhere. That girl’s in for a rude awakening when he dumps her and leaves town.”
“I don’t think so.”
Davis spread his towel on a chair for Donna. She sat down. They began to rub suntan lotion on each other. This was a production worthy of a porn film.
Stephanie looked away.
Something in her expression made me ask, “Were you ever involved with him?”
I didn’t think she was going to answer me. Then she said, “For a while. Until I realized what a jerk he was. He used me, you know, to get on this project. His contract on ‘Days of Love’ expired, and they killed off his character. He needed work. I thought he needed me, and he did, just not the way I imagined.” She put her hand to her mouth and fought back a sob. “I wish he’d been the one to take that drink.”