“Mustard?” Frank said. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“French’s mustard.”
“Are you trying to make a joke?”
I got the conversation back on track.
“So Elijah was upset when his nephew Aaron married a local girl?”
Frank continued the story. “Lord, yes. See, Elijah never married.”
“Too ornery,” R.W. said.
“So he thought of Nathan and Aaron as his sons. He’d picked out some rich gal from somewhere up in Virginia.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t order one from France,” Horace said, which earned him another look from his cronies.
“Who’s telling this?” Frank said.
“Go on, go on. Pardon me.”
“But Aaron had already taken up with the Dewey girl. Never heard such a fuss. And nothing wrong with the Deweys. A nice family. That girl of theirs was right good looking, too, so I don’t know why Elijah was so dead set against her. He thought he was somewhat of a ladies man. Never could see it, myself, but he squired quite a few women around. None of ’em would have him, though, even with all his fortune.”
“Wasn’t he sweet on that Lever woman, the one what just died?” R.W. asked.
Horace laughed. “Now that would’ve been a pair! I think she told him what he could do with his money. Probably the only one to stand up to the old cuss, except for Aaron.”
“Elijah wanted to date Amelia Lever?” I asked.
“Yup. He was pretty wild when he was in his twenties, and she wasn’t bad looking at nineteen. But like I said, she didn’t want anything to do with him.”
I took a few minutes to absorb that little nugget of information.
“Least the Dewey girl got the castle,” R.W. said.
“Yeah. You hear that whirring noise?”
I listened, puzzled, until Frank’s thin face wrinkled with laughter.
“That’s old Elijah’s spinning in his grave.”
Nathan had told me Elijah left enough money for Tori to live in the chateau. “Did something happen to change how Elijah felt about Tori?”
“Yeah, I think there at the end, he didn’t like the way Aaron treated her.”
When I returned to my booth, Jerry was grinning.
“What?” I said.
“You should have seen their faces when you walked away.” Jerry widened his eyes and let his mouth hang open in what I’m sure he thought was a comical depiction of male lust.
“Ha, ha.”
“Nudging each other, tongues flapping.”
“Shut up.”
He poured more ketchup on his fries. “You made their day. Find out anything?”
“Pretty much what I already knew. Elijah didn’t have any children, so he took a lot of interest in his nephews’ lives. He’d picked out a wife for Aaron and got a little miffed when Aaron married Tori. Oh, and the fellas say he tried to date Amelia Lever.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“A match made in heaven.”
“Tried to date her. She turned him down.”
“And he was such a catch.”
“Horace and company think Aaron was an abusive husband, though.”
“No wonder Tori jumped when she saw me. Oh, check this out. That might be Valerie Banner.”
A small young woman with a large bag slung over one shoulder walked across the street. She came into Deely’s, took a quick look around, and went right to our booth, her bright blue eyes sparkling.
“Mrs. Fairweather, hello! I’m Valerie Banner.”
“Madeline, please.” We shook hands, and I introduced Jerry, who stood to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Banner.”
“Call me Valerie,” she said. “I’ll just slide in and sit next to you.” She arranged herself and her large bag next to Jerry. She looked very young, her long black hair pulled back with a head band, and she was dressed all in black: black jeans, tee shirt, jean jacket, and boots. “Jerry, are you related to Des?”
“My older brother.”
“Small world! He and my Uncle Jake are really good friends.”
Jerry snapped his fingers. “Jake Banner. I knew I’d heard that name before.”
“Only your brother doesn’t have a lot of time to run around with Jake these days, does he? Isn’t he on some world tour?”
“He’s in China with the Parkland Symphony right now. I think it’s a two week tour.”
“I know he’s loving every minute.” She dug in her bag and brought out a digital camera. “But I don’t want to waste your time, Madeline. Let me get a quick photo.”
“Here?”
“Sure. The light’s good. You look amazing, by the way.”
“Thanks. You said you knew what I looked like. I’m curious about that.”
She took a few pictures, examined the results, and nodded. “Jake told me.”
Oh, great. No doubt her uncle knew me from pageants. But what she said next surprised me.
“Jake’s into all sorts of paranormal things, so he knew all about Mantis Man.”
Mantis Man, Celosia’s Bigfoot.
She raised the camera. “Let me get just a few more. When you caught the woman who killed that movie director, Jake was all over that story because he thought you’d discovered the real Mantis Man.”
Several people had dressed up as the Mantis, including one of Jerry’s friends. “It was a hoax, Valerie.”
She grinned. “Don’t tell Jake that. He still believes it’s out there. Anyway, he was really interested in what went on here, and that’s how I know you.”
I looked at Jerry, who just smiled. Valerie had yet to mention anything about my pageant past. She wasn’t going for the beauty queen angle. She knew me from a case, a murder I had solved.
“Okay, I got some good shots.” She put the camera back in her bag and took out a small tape recorder. “So tell me everything about your art.”
Looking at Valerie Banner, I wouldn’t have believed she was a competent reporter, but she was genuinely interested in what I had to say and asked insightful questions about me and my hopes for a career in art.
Then she asked, “So how difficult is it for a woman starting a detective agency in a small town?”
“I wanted to get away from the larger agencies in Parkland and really work on a more personal basis with people. I wanted to find things that they had lost, put lives back together. The fact that a murder occurred during my first visit was just fate. And I had the opportunity and the good fortune to solve that murder.”
“But your first love is art?”
“Yes, I’ve always wanted to be an artist.”
“And should your art career take off, do you plan to continue your investigations?”
“Yes,” I said. “I can always make time for the things that are important to me.”
She grinned. “I hear what you’re saying. And believe me I know what it’s like to have to prove yourself over and over. People look at me and think I’m working for my high school newspaper.” She turned off the recorder and stuffed it and the camera back into her bag. “Okay, that should do it. Thanks so much.”
“Thank you.”
“And Jerry, thanks for the update on Des. I’ll tell Jake. He’ll want to go to China and start looking for dragons.”
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jerry asked me after Valerie had gone. “I did not hear the ‘P’ word one time.”
“I know,” I said. “You’d think by now I’d stop judging people on too little information.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was ready to dismiss Valerie because she looked like a punk rock teenager. She’s really quite a good reporter. You heard her say she knows what it’s like to have to prove yourself over and over. I’ve had to do that practically all my life, and here I was, not willing to give her a chance.”
“But you did, and I’ll bet she’s going to write a dynamite story.”
I reached across the table to take his hand. “Thanks. I never would’ve entered that art show. I never would’ve had the opportunity for all this good publicity. This is one time I’m glad you’re so sneaky.”
“Wait till you see what I come up with next.”
I must have really looked alarmed because he laughed and said, “Just kidding.”
***
I took Jerry to the bookstore and headed back to Celosia Elementary. Rachel’s art classes were a little more subdued and limited their questions to topics about art. Rachel explained she told them they would be graded on their behavior. I showed them how to shade drawings of fruit for a more three dimensional look and illustrated ways to add perspective. Then they set about drawing a still life of fruit and toys Rachel had placed on a table in front of the room. As I walked around offering praise and suggestions, I couldn’t help but think how much easier my life would’ve been if my mother had encouraged my artistic efforts instead of insisting I parade around on stage in a frilly and obscenely expensive dress, smiling stiffly and turning just so. My life might have been different, but if I’d had a successful art career, would circumstances have led me to Celosia and my own detective agency?
When the class was over, the students gathered their books and papers and lined up at the door. Several of them wanted me to sign their notebooks, so I borrowed a marker from Rachel and signed as many as I could before Norma Olsen arrived to take the classes back to their rooms. She was still beaming.
“How’s everything working out for you?” I asked.
“Couldn’t be better. This is a wonderful class, and we’ve had some good discussions about Mrs. Lever and what happened to her.”
I couldn’t help but notice Ronald Brown roll his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“And we so appreciate you coming to talk with the class. I’m sure they had a wonderful time. Come along, boys and girls.”
Rachel picked up the stray papers. “Thanks so much, Madeline. That was great.”
“You’re welcome. How’s everything here today?”
“Business as usual.” She rearranged the still life. “I have something to ask you, if I’m not being too forward.”
She wants me to come back, I thought. Well, I enjoyed this. It might be nice to teach another class.
“I’ve entered Bron and Mag in the Little Miss Rainbow Pageant in Parkland and I was wondering if you’d consider coaching them.”
Good grief. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Not even for a few minutes, just to show them how to walk? They deserve a little special treatment. They’ve been through a lot in their short lives, and I’m constantly amazed by how well they adapt to difficult situations.”
I thought perhaps her daughters had health issues. “Difficult situations?”
She pushed her hair back, dislodging the little ear cuff long enough for me to see a slight “V” shaped notch in her ear. It wasn’t something I would’ve been sensitive about, but then, I wasn’t as high-strung as Rachel Sigmon. Maybe I wasn’t being fair. I often found my looks to be a hindrance in my job.
She rearranged the cuff. “Their father left me, and the divorce proceedings have been rough on all of us. He still sees them, but I’m the one who deals with everything. But being a single mom has its advantages, and the girls have been wonderful. You could at least meet them. Then I know you’d want to work with them.”
“Rachel, I know you haven’t had an easy time, but every mother who puts her daughter in a pageant thinks her child is amazing.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “If you had a child, you’d understand.”
“You’re exactly right.”
“I want you to meet them.”
I couldn’t see any graceful way out of this. “I’m going to talk to Mrs. Dorman after school, and then maybe I’ll have time to meet them.”
“Come by my house. Do you have my number? Just call and come by any time. Come this afternoon.”
“All right,” I said. “But I’m not promising anything.”
“Just meeting you will be a thrill, and maybe it will inspire them.”
Just what I wanted to be, a shining example of queen-ness.
***
After the students had been dismissed, I went to Mrs. Lever’s room. Mrs. Dorman was sitting in the empty classroom eating a cup of yogurt.
“Mrs. Dorman?”
She blinked like a turtle suddenly coming into a patch of sunlight. “Yes?”
“May I ask you a few questions about Mrs. Lever?”
“I suppose so.”
“Could you tell me what happened yesterday?”
She sighed. “Amelia was her usual self. I do remember her asking me if I’d seen her cigarettes. Asking is too polite a word. She demanded to know where they were.” Mrs. Dorman stirred her yogurt. “I told her since I never touch the filthy things, I had no idea. She found them in her pocketbook, of course. She kept everything in these great big saddlebags—which reminds me. One of them is still in our storage closet. What should I do with it? I thought her sons would come get all her things.”
“I’ll be glad to take it to them,” I said.
“Thank you. I want it out of my sight. It reeks of tobacco.” She ate a spoonful of yogurt and then regarded me with her pale eyes. “It doesn’t do any good to speak ill of the dead, but Amelia Lever was not a kind woman, and I can’t pretend I liked her.” She gestured with her spoon. “It’s in that closet there.”
I went to the closet and pulled out a large, heavy canvas bag. It bulged with papers. “Is this some of the kids’ work?”
“Just leave those on a desk. I’ll take care of them.”
I put the papers on the nearest desk. “Working with Norma Olsen must be a nice change for you, then.”
“She’s all right. She talks to the students as if they were in kindergarten, though. And she’s always laughing and playing games. Too silly for me.”
I imagined everything and everyone was too silly for Mrs. Dorman. I thanked her and took my treasure out to the car. I’d take it to the Lever boys, but first, I was going to have a look. Sure enough, the bag smelled like the inside of an old muffler. I found two packs of cigarettes and a lighter, several packages of Bufo cards she’d probably taken from students, a bottle of pills marked K-Dur, a tube of the dark violet lipstick, a date book, and a photograph of a small boy with a distinctive Buster Brown haircut. Had to be one of the boys. The name “Rusty” was printed on the back along with the year the photo was taken, almost thirty years ago. I looked through the date book. The last day of every month had a big red “R” written on it. “R” for Rusty? Maybe the Lever boys would know.
But the most interesting thing I found was a piece of paper folded up in the back of the date book. It was a copy of Elijah Fenton’s riddle.