Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder (4 page)

“From what I’ve heard about Larry Grace, he was a scoundrel. So what he was saying didn’t make much sense.” Audie dried my foot and tugged on a pink hospital sock. “I might ask Dina to research it for the play.” Plans for the premier of the mural included a play about our town history, also titled
Grace Gulch Gold
. He had asked Dina to write the script.

A thought struck me. “Since Brad is Dina’s father—that means she’s a Grace! Can you imagine that? Since Larry Grace is her great-great grandfather, I’m sure she’d be interested.”

Audie finished with my feet. He helped me take off my jumper. Pretty soon, all thoughts of murder and mayhem fell away from our minds.

5

On the morning of August 6, 1920, Larry Grace entered the First Golden Bank of Tulsa only moments before Lincoln Oil Company would bring by its monthly deposit. With the oil business booming, they handled large amounts of money. Larry’s appearance didn’t raise any suspicions. He was a regular customer of the bank, and dropped by often. On that morning, he entertained the teller with his oft-told tale of escaping the hanging judge. In his version, the verdict was unjust, of course. Outside the door, two men stopped the oil company truck, stole the deposit money, getting clean away. That much is verified fact.

From
A History of Grace Gulch

Wednesday, September 13

In the middle of the night Junior woke me up by treating my womb like a jumping gym. I ran to the bathroom and then crept downstairs for a cup of warm milk. If I could settle us both down, maybe I could snag a few more hours sleep. Junior could sleep all day if he wanted to, but the same wasn’t true for me.

It took me an extra minute to locate my favorite mug. Gilda had rearranged the shelf. I poured milk, added a dash of nutmeg and sugar, and heated it for a minute in the microwave. When the drink was ready, I took the mug into the living room and sat down in my favorite recliner with my feet up. Some nights I fell asleep in the chair, and Audie tucked a blanket around my shoulders when he discovered me. Tonight my mind kept leap-frogging through the day’s events too much for me to sleep.

Finella, dead. Brad, missing. Brad, Dina’s father.

Jenna and Audie expected me to investigate arson and murder, even if my husband had offered half-hearted objections. My thoughts circled around the news that Brad Merriman was Dina’s biological father. That fact shed new light on Dina’s personality. How could two artists produce a child with so little interest in art? Then again, Brad researched the details of his mural thoroughly. He went above and beyond what he needed for accuracy, and thrived on the chase. That was Dina all over. Once she had the bit of a story between her teeth, she wouldn’t let it go. They had both obsessed about the history of Grace Gulch in recent days. Brad, for the mural, and Dina, for an updated edition of
A History of Grace Gulch
.

Heritage. I thought of the difference between brothers Bob and Larry Grace. Bob had avoided the temptation to become a “sooner” on his desired parcel of land and handed his descendents a rich legacy. Larry was a bootlegger, swindler and thief. If I were Brad, I might not want to claim him as my ancestor.

Every family had its share of “black sheep.” I knew the Wilde family. . .hardworking Oklahoma farmers, at least back to great-grandpa Wallace who helped settle the Gulch. Not a single slacker or bad ’un among us, in spite of our name. Some people considered Jenna a black sheep, but I for one felt she had more than redeemed herself. But what about the Howes?

I sipped more of the warm milk and rubbed my tummy. “Junior, your Daddy and I will give you the best start we possibly can. And we’ll introduce you to the God who can make all things new when you make a mistake.” He stirred, a small movement beneath my hands, as if thanking me for my reassurance.

I glanced up the stairs in the direction of the guest bedroom, and thought about asking Gilda about the Howe family history. I remembered the compatibility questionnaire Pastor Waldberg had given us before the wedding. Didn’t the questions touch on similar backgrounds and family traits? My mother-in-law might shed an interesting light on some of Audie’s quirks.

I rinsed out my mug and climbed back up the stairs. If I was lucky, I might manage a few more hours of sleep before the alarm went off.

~

I knew Wednesday would be a difficult day when someone knocked at our front door while we ate breakfast.

“I’ll get it.” Audie motioned for me to stay seated. A moment later, I heard him greet our guest. “Chief! What brings you by on this beautiful morning?”

Reiner had come by our house? I couldn’t think of a single good reason for his presence. He rumbled an answer that I didn’t catch.

“Excuse me.” I scraped my leftover eggs into the trash and left my plate in the sink to soak.

“But you haven’t touched. . .” Gilda’s voice trailed after me. I didn’t care. I wanted to find out why the chief of police had come by our house. Maybe my old detective instincts were stirring after all.

Reiner’s familiar profile, a stout figure topped with a Teddy Roosevelt-type mustache, had settled onto our couch.

“Cici. You can’t resist a puzzle.” The words sounded harsh, but he said them with a smile. To give the man credit, he didn’t hold the assistance we had given him on previous murders in our small town against us.

“I understand Finella Gaynor was murdered.” I jumped in with both feet.

“How did you. . . never mind. I can guess.”

I settled down and wanted to prop my chin on my fist. Since Junior’s presence made that impossible, I settled for locking my fingers over my abdomen. “What’s up?” When would he get to the point?

“When was the last time you spoke with Finella?”

I had to think about that one. Finella’s path didn’t cross mine all that often. We attended the same church—the Gaynor-leaning Word of Faith Fellowship—until her divorce from Ham. She dropped out after that. I stretched my mind back several days, searching for a specific memory. I found it. “I saw her at the grocery store last Friday night. We traded ideas for using fresh herbs in recipes.” She had told me about a new twist on macaroni and cheese, one that added mint to the sauce. Unfortunately, the store had run out of fresh mint.

“How did she seem to you?” Reiner’s gaze never left my face.

“The same as always. We were never really close. Jenna might know more.”

Reiner’s mustache twitched at the mention of Jenna’s name. “Don’t worry. I’ll be talking with her. I’m aware of her former, uh, association with Mrs. Gaynor and Mr. Brodie.”

I nodded my head. “They were good friends in high school. They called themselves the Three Musketeers”

“What about Brad Merriman? I understand he discussed the plans for his mural with you fairly often.”

The chief didn’t usually keep up with the minutiae of Grace Gulch life.

Perhaps Frances had filled him about Brad Merriman. She used to accompany the Chief on these calls; but since her wedding, she had stuck to a strict eight-hours-a-shift policy with her job.

“I saw him last on Saturday, after I called him about a vintage pair of Levis someone brought in. He asked me to let him know whenever I received vintage men’s clothing.” I decided to go on the offensive. “I heard he’s missing. Do you know where he’s disappeared to?

Reiner smirked, his “if I knew, what makes you think I’d tell you?” smile in full force. “Don’t worry, we’re on the lookout for Mr. Merriman. Can you think of a reason why he wouldn’t return to his studio after it burned down?”

I sneaked a glance at Audie. The same question had bothered me. The timing of his disappearance looked suspicious. No wonder Jenna was worried. For her sake, I offered alternative reasons. “Maybe his agent had to talk with him urgently. Maybe an emergency came up elsewhere. Maybe he just wanted time by himself to, you know,
think
. Artists do that a lot.”

Audie flashed a smile that said
way to go, girl.

Reiner grunted. “But you don’t actually know, do you? He didn’t talk to you about it?”

I had to admit that he hadn’t.

“What do you know about the relationship between him and the murder victim?”

Murder victim.
I shuddered at the words. Lovely, sweet Finella, reduced to a statistic. “I never heard them arguing.” I hedged.

Reiner smiled faintly. “That’s what your husband said. Let me phrase my question this way. They had a very public argument recently. What have you heard about it?”

I couldn’t avoid answering his question unless I lied outright, something I refused to do. “Nothing except what you must have heard a hundred times already.”

“Spit it out. Stop making me prime the pump.”

Forgive me, Jenna. I have to tell him.
“Finella and Brad had dated for awhile. He broke it off recently, and Finella wasn’t happy about it. She wanted to get back together.”

Reiner settled back in his chair, satisfied.

At least he hadn’t asked about the relationship between Brad and Jenna. Maybe that tidbit hadn’t reached the Grace Gulch rumor mill yet.

“Any idea where your sister will be at this time of day?”

Maybe I had relaxed too soon. “Which sister?” I temporized.

“Jenna.” He practically barked her name. “Your other sister called me before I finished my first cup of coffee, wanting to know the latest details of the case.”

That sounded like Dina.

“I expect Jenna’s getting ready for work. She usually goes in about the same time I open my store.” The chief didn’t need to know she had spent the night out of town. I hoped he would take the hint. If I didn’t leave soon, I wouldn’t have time to stop by Gaynor Goodies before I opened up shop.

“The funny thing is, Jenna is not answering her phone. She doesn’t appear to be at home. It would be bad if we had
two
missing persons.”

Ouch.
I didn’t like the implication that Jenna had gone somewhere with Brad. “I’m sure she’ll be in her office later. You can catch her there.” I couldn’t tell Reiner where Jenna had spent the night if I wanted to. She hadn’t told me the name of the motel where she was headed, although I could guess.

“Our staff meeting is scheduled for 9:30.” Audie offered the information, saving me from further explanation. “I’ll call if she doesn’t make an appearance.” Glancing at the mutinous look on my face, he rose to his feet. “If there is nothing more. . .”

Reiner checked his notes and scowled, before he stood up to leave. “Give me a call if you remember anything else.”

“Of course.” I shut the door behind him and leaned against it. A visit from the police before the day had hardly started set my nerves on edge. I was glad I had decided to wear a vintage maternity tank top, from the ’70s, for the day. Between my anxiety level and the day’s heat, I had already worked up a sweat in spite of the cool clothing.

“Have some tea.” Audie handed me a glass of herbal peach tea, my favorite since the doctor had restricted my caffeine intake. “And take a seat.” We settled next to each other on the couch.

I took a long swallow.

“Tell me where Jenna is.”

“You heard what I told the Chief. I don’t know.”

Audie gave me a sideways look that said
don’t try and fool with me.

“I don’t know—exactly. Jenna took off for a hotel last night. She might have gone to Stroud, but she didn’t tell me. She wanted time to think.”

Gilda chose that moment to poke her head out of the kitchen. “Those sisters of yours.” She shook her head in disgust, somehow every curl remaining perfectly in place. She patted my arm. “If you want my opinion. . .”

I don’t.

“You’re the best of the lot.” She grabbed my tea glass before I could finish my drink.

Oh, boy
.

6

The rest of the Larry Grace story has never been established beyond doubt. Locals assumed he was an accomplice of the bank robbers, but his guilt was never proven. He arrived in Grace Gulch on August 7, the day following the robbery, for a brief visit with his brother Bob. The Graces never divulged what happened during that visit; what is known is that Larry never again returned to the Circle G. The rumor quickly spread that Larry was persona non grata at the family ranch because of his involvement in the robbery.

From
A History of Grace Gulch

Wednesday, September 13

I gritted my teeth against Gilda’s implied criticism of my sisters and instead pasted a smile on my face. “We’ve always been the Wilde sisters, all right. My marriage to Audie hasn’t changed that.”

Audie chuckled at the old joke. “‘Experience is one thing you can't get for nothing.’ And I wouldn’t change a minute of my experiences with any one of you.” Trust my husband to come up with a quote from Oscar Wilde to diffuse the tension in the room. My forced smile relaxed into a small grin.

“I never did understand why you quote that
horrible
man.” Gilda looked over her glasses. “You do know about his. . .
personal
preferences. . . don’t you?”

Audie laughed out loud. “Of course I do. I certainly don’t advocate that anyone follow his example, but you can’t deny he had a brilliant wit.” He sobered. “I often wonder what could have been, if Wilde had known the Lord. Imagine that talent used for God’s glory.” He sighed.

“Wilde again.” Gilda sniffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Tension rebuilt in my heart. I suspected she was talking about more than one Wilde. I decided to get moving before I said something I might regret. “Will you look at the time? If I hurry, I can stop by Gaynor Goodies before 9.”

“I baked peach muffins—” Gilda interrupted.

“They were delicious. But I always buy something for my store from the bakery. I’ll see you later.” I rushed out of the living room as if I would find sanctuary outside. With the windows rolled down, the brief ride downtown cooled down more than my body temperature. I pulled up to the bakery, my mouth watering for one of Jessie’s amazing pineapple-upside-down muffins. At least she called them muffins although they tasted more like cupcakes. Lately her baked goods tasted even better than before. She said her secret lay in using the honey Dustin Murk sold. I made a note to try a jar.

Only after I had parked did I wonder whether Jessie might close Gaynor Goodies in the wake of Finella’s death. After all, the two women had been sisters-in-law. To my relief, the store had opened for business as usual. Instead of Jessie’s usual cheerful, coordinated uniform, she wore a black tee shirt and tattered jeans. I wasn’t sure if she was aiming for mourning attire or whether she hadn’t cared about her appearance today.

“Oh, Jessie. I heard. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s all right.” She dabbed at her eyes with the bottom of her apron and tried on a smile. “How can I help you today?”

If she wanted to pretend nothing was the matter, I’d play along. I scanned the usually-brimming display cases. Not a pineapple muffin in sight. “I guess I’ll take. . . chocolate chip.”

Jessie sighed. “I recommend the peach today. The chocolate chip are a little bit. . .ah. . .overdone.”

She would say peach. Gilda will kill me if she learns I bought peach muffins at the bakery instead of bringing in her homemade goodies. But I accepted Jessie’s suggestion and bought a dozen. Maybe Gilda
wouldn’t
stop by the store today. She would surely want a day to recover from jet lag.

No such luck. I took my first bite of one of the muffins while the first pot of coffee brewed. Gilda waltzed in at that moment. Caught in the act. I swallowed the bread with a swig of coffee and wrapped the rest of the muffin in a napkin.

Gilda sniffed the air. “Smells like a bakery. I would be afraid to serve food among all this fragile clothing.”

I personally thought the pleasant aromas added to the homey feel of my store, but I knew better than to say so. “What brings you out so early today?” I pasted on a smile in welcome. My facial muscles would be sore from so many false smiles today.

“Why,
you,
of course. You must get tired, standing on your feet all day. When I was expecting Audie, his father insisted I stop working. I know that’s not the fashion nowadays.” She sniffed.

“The doctor says there is no reason I can’t continue working right up until the baby is born. I’m fit as a fiddle, as they say.”

“I’m sure he knows what is best.” Gilda walked around the store, inspecting the merchandise. “Why, I remember this style.” She picked up a polyester pants suit from the ’70s. I refrained from mentioning it resembled the outfit she had on. “I used to make all my clothes, so much cheaper that way. How much is it going for?” She examined the price tag and gasped. “That much! Who would ever have thought?”

I prepared myself for a long day.

A couple of customers came in and kept me busy while Gilda completed her circuit of the store. As the doorbell rang behind them, Gilda exclaimed, “
Peach
muffins! I thought you wanted something else.”

I scrambled for an explanation. “It was all Jessie had prepared this morning. The woman who died in the fire was Jessie’s ex-sister-in-law. Her death must have been a shock.”

“And she still opened the bakery today?”

From the tone of Gilda’s voice, I couldn’t tell if she meant that as a compliment or criticism.

“The people of Grace Gulch wouldn’t know how to manage without their daily dose of gossip and goodies from Jessie.” Not that Jessie had gossiped much this morning. “Perhaps she needs company today more than ever.”

Gilda turned from the offending muffins and headed for the cash register. “I used to work one of these. I want to help.”

As long as she’s here
. . .
“Let me show you my system. I
would
like to work on a new window display.”

For a moment, I thought she would object. Visions of me climbing ladders and risking harm to the baby probably filled her mind. Then she smiled. “Show me the ropes.”

I took a few minutes to explain my routine—I used an old-fashioned hand-written invoice and cash register system, in keeping with the vintage theme of the store. Dina thought I was hopelessly outdated, but Gilda caught on quickly.

“Any questions?”

“Do you bargain at all?” She examined a price tag. “Some of these prices seem pretty steep.”

“A few people receive a discount.” I gave her the list. “And others have a discount card. And if someone looks like they’re ready to walk out because they don’t like the price, let me know. I’ll see what I can do.”

We worked side by side for about an hour. Gilda introduced herself as my mother-in-law. With the customers, she exuded charm with her tales of Audie as an infant and her excitement about her grandchild. Her chatter provided a backdrop for my own efforts. I located photographs of Maria Tallchief in Balanchine’s
The Firebird
and Lee Troup Johnson in full riding gear. I would have poster-sized enlargements made. For a final touch, I searched for the perfect outfits to put into window.

Soon the myriad of choices swept me away from my immediate surroundings. The ’60s featured everything from pleated skirts to the maxi/mini mod looks. I even had an orange dress made from a burlap feed sack with Native American emblems that just might work for a fan of the OSU Cowboys. With reluctance, I decided against the mod, Hawaiian and other ethnic dresses. They definitely did
not
represent the classic Kennedy look I was aiming for in the window display, any more than dresses that looked like something June Cleaver might wear did.

Gilda’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “I thought I would go back to the house for a few minutes.”

Yes!
I rejoiced inwardly.

Gilda stared at the dresses I had spread out before me. “You’re going to sell
that?
” She pointed to the burlap feed sack dress. “I could make something better than that out of pillowcases.”

I swallowed past my resentment. “Yes, I am. A lot of vintage clothing came from material on hand, like burlap sacks and even pillowcases.” Her reaction tempted me to go ahead and put it in the window display. “This dress is unique. I knew the original owner. She was a leader in the Sac-Fox nation here in Lincoln County, and she wanted a dress that reflected both worlds.”

Gilda raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment further. “I’ve left the receipts by the cash register. Will you be coming home for lunch?”

Was it lunch time already? “Not today. I have Bible study with some ladies from church every Wednesday.” I paused, fighting the urge to exclude her before I continued. “Do you want to join us?”

Gilda shook her head. “Some other time. I thought I would stop by the theater and then do some grocery shopping. Call me if you need any help this afternoon.”

She passed Enid Waldberg and Suzanne Jay on the way out. True to form, Enid remembered her name and greeted her warmly. I held my breath until Gilda climbed in her car and pulled out of her parking space.

“I didn’t realize your mother-in-law was coming for a visit.” Enid pulled lunch for the three of us out of her bag.

“Neither did I.”

Enid must have caught the unspoken undertones in my voice. “Like that, is it?” she said sympathetically.

I blew air through my lips. “I can’t seem to do anything to please her. Nothing new.” I managed a crooked smile.

Suzanne hugged me. “I’m sure she loves you. Like we all do.”

“Couldn’t prove it by me.”

Enid sent me a scolding look.

“Okay, I know I’m being an old sourpuss. But I keep wondering if the rest of Audie’s family is like Gilda. Demanding, you know, people who always know what’s right and aren’t afraid to tell you so.”

“I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing.” Enid offered me a bowl of my favorite fiesta salad. She fixed the most wonderful meals.

My doubts wouldn’t go away so easily. What kind of heritage would Junior inherit from Audie’s side of the family? I hoped Gilda’s fault-finding ways wouldn’t extend to our children. I sent up a silent prayer asking God to help me focus on Him, and His word, instead of the insecurities Gilda riled up in me.

“Shall we continue with Psalm 119?” Suzanne asked. “I love verse 105. ‘Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.’ I’ll have to remember that the next time I need to make a decision.”

Suzanne’s enthusiasm brought joy to my heart. She had come to know the Lord about two and a half years ago, and she kept uncovering nuggets I had known since childhood. When she shared them, I saw them with new eyes.

“That’s fine by me.” Enid opened her Bible to the middle. “Unless we want to study Proverbs 1:21?” She looked at us with a question in her eyes. “Ooh, the first clue to the treasure hunt?” Suzanne’s eyes lit up in agreement.

I shook my head. “Sorry, ladies. I’m on the committee. . .”

“So you know the answer.” Enid smiled mysteriously, as if she knew the answer, and flipped a couple of pages in her Bible. “Well, let’s continue with Psalm 119, then. We’re on the eighteenth letter, Nun, today.”

We started by reading the passage in unison as usual. I had read the passage over several times, but today verse 111 jumped out at me.
Your statutes are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart.
God convicted me right then and there. The most important heritage Audie and I could pass on to our children was God’s word.

Thirty minutes later, we closed in prayer. Enid snagged a muffin. “Mmm, Jessie really is an artist with food.”

“Takes one to know one.” I pointed to my empty salad bowl.

“She does wonders baking with Dustin’s honey. I’ve bought some myself. Used it in the dressing for our salad.”

I really needed to check out Dustin’s goods. Maybe Gilda would enjoy a trip to the farm as well.

Enid turned the box around, offering the last muffin to Suzanne. “So Jessie opened her store today after all. Poor Finella.”

Suzanne chased a few crumbs around the box—she rarely allowed herself an entire muffin—and closed the top. “She used to date that artist fellow. He always seemed so nice.”

I bristled. The town already assumed Brad was the guilty party. “No one has accused him of anything.”

“Do you think he’s innocent?” Suzanne turned wide eyes in my direction.

“What I think is that we don’t know all the facts yet.”

“I hope the police take the time to conduct a proper investigation instead of rushing things.” Enid always seemed to know the workings of the county without ever engaging in gossip. “I know they’re anxious to return to their investigation of drug dealers.”

We had heard about the explosion in drug trafficking many times before. Pastor Waldberg had thundered about it from the pulpit, and more than that, had organized activities aimed to help at-risk kids. Beneath all his bluster beat a kind heart.