Larcency and Lace Part 16

"Thanks for the folder. I made a good start on my project."

He kissed my cheek. "I'm indebted."

"Looks like it's a wash. There are thirty racks to be built."

He groaned to amuse me and got back to it.

I tried to talk to everyone and couldn't believe how much I'd missed my neighbors. None of them cared about fas.h.i.+on like I did. Some always thought I was a bit nuts. Others considered this a thrift shop and expected me to go broke the first week. Many had left clothes best suited to a scarecrow. One old dear even left me a box of socks to darn. I intended to replace them with new ones.

Our neighbors were used to helping. Since my mother died when I was ten, my siblings all younger, they had been there for the Cutler kids, to fix a skinned knee, attend a hockey game or a school play, or help one of us go into business.

"This is unbelievable," I shouted above the hum of voices. "You're wonderful. Friends and neighbors working together like bees building a hive. My hive. I love you all!" I sent them a double-handed kiss.

Twice I'd gotten applauded today, but this time, I felt a rush of pride and grat.i.tude, in counterpoint to my embarra.s.sment at the police station.

"You can thank them individually tonight," my father said. "Welcome-home party at our place, six o'clock. Don't be late. You're the guest of honor."

"Dad!" I was welling up big time, here. In a minute, I'd be blubbering.

Eve walked in, hands on hips. "Cutler, you started without me, again. You know how I like to be first on the scene. And after I got color for your coming-home party."

I looked her up and down. "What color?"

She held up a pinkie. She might still have nine black fingernails but one bore a tiny little ladybug.

"Red! You got red? For me? Now I am going to cry."

"It gets better," she whispered. "I found leopard nails. We're having drinks with her tomorrow night."

Werner walked in, boxes stacked to cover his face.

"Thank you, Detective," I said, though he grunted and kept walking.

I followed, and after he put down the boxes, he wasn't happy to find me behind him. "You didn't fire anybody because of me, did you?"

He pulled me into the deep end of the nook. "No, but if you worked for me, I'd fire you."

"That would be fair."

"You're the hero of the entire squad room."

"Your men lack taste in who they look up to. I'm surprised you helped me move in, considering."

"I keep my promises, Madeira."

"I admire your integrity."

"Don't do nice; it doesn't suit." He stepped around me. "Continue to be a brat. Makes life easier."

How cryptic of him.

He hesitated and turned back to me. "And stop trying to solve crimes that are none of your business."

"Big leap from 'thanks for the evidence.' "

"So was your public offer to brand me again."

"Wait," I said, stopping him by catching his sleeve. "Which murder isn't my business? The one that took me from my shop so it could get burglarized, or the one where the body was found in my storage room?"

"What makes you think the bones from your storage room were the result of a murder?" Werner asked before walking away.

Twenty-five.

It's all about proportion, shape, line, finish, fabric, balance.

-TOM FORD.

Among the movers, I spotted my sister, Sherry, and her new husband, Justin Vancortland V.

Aunt Fiona saw them, too. "That's it," she said. "They're carrying the last of your stock. You're all moved in."

Sherry put her boxes on my counter and threw herself into my arms. I hadn't yet seen my favorite baby sister, between her job as a kindergarten teacher and all the excitement since I got home. "I missed you, Cherry Pie. Isn't this great? The whole town pitched in."

"We'd do anything for you, Sis," Justin said, giving my shoulders a squeeze.

I honestly liked my new brother-in-law and I was grateful Sherry hadn't gone to jail for murder instead of marrying him. "Who's idea was this barn raising?"

"Dad's," Sherry said. "He's out there bragging about 'his' construction work."

"Well, he should." She and I walked arm in arm to the front of the shop. "He did a brilliant job. Aunt Fee, did you put this idea into Dad's head?"

"I'd like to say yes, but Harry Cutler showed me up is what he did, and he's going to pay."

Sherry winked at me.

It didn't take long for the place to clear. I waved from the door as cars left. I'd get a chance to thank everyone personally in a couple of hours, anyway.

After Justin and Sherry left, I turned to Eve. "Do we have time to go car shopping between now and six?"

"Sure. You know what you want. Let's go. Goodwin's, here we come."

"Give me a minute to lock up."

"I'll do it," Aunt Fiona said. "Go. Enjoy."

"I can't believe the whole of Mystick Falls moved me in," I said, as we drove away.

"You spent too much time in New York where you don't talk to your neighbors without a weapon in your purse."

I shrugged. "It wasn't that bad."

Eve chuckled. "The worms in the apple? Remember?"

"True, but there are worms around here, too, judging by the body count."

"And the wildcat piece of work we're having drinks with." Eve rolled her eyes.

I turned in my seat. "How did you find her?"

"She found me and invited us for drinks."

"Sounds a bit like an agenda."

"Ya think?"

Eve glanced at me. "You didn't ask me who she is."

"I already had a mental picture of Leopard Nails. Who is she?"

"Lolique LaFleur, Councilman McDowell's trophy wife."

"You jest. The town gossip columnist is married to the publicity hound from h.e.l.l? Her name sure doesn't give away her courage," I said. "I look forward to meeting the woman who can stand to live with that man. It's a wonder he never broke his arm patting himself on the back."

"I think he did once," Eve said.

"Stop the car and back up a bit."

Eve hit the brakes, looking like I was nuts, but she put the car in reverse so I could see the two women sparring beside their cars on the overlook.

"That's Sampson's sister. She just left the shop," I said, "but I don't know who she's with."

"Lolique," Eve said. "Leopard Nails herself."

"How do they know each other? Why would they argue?"

"Everybody knows everybody around here. Besides, people stop Lolique on the street for her autograph. You know what their stances remind me of? Me and my mother when we disagree on something we've never agreed on. That's a 'here we go again' discussion, if ever I've seen one. The way their arms are moving takes practice."

"I never knew you to be so observant and so wrong. Sheesh, drive, will you, before they see us."

Eve hit the gas and we glided away.

I shook my head. "It doesn't add up. For somebody who hasn't been in Mystick Falls long, Sampson's sister knows a lot of people, consorting with the local butcher, Lolique, a local celebrity, and a man in a wheelchair."

"Consorting?" Eve asked.

We made up outlandish "consorting" scenarios until we pulled into the car lot. "You look at Elements, let me do the talking, and don't drool in front of a salesman."

I saluted. "Gotcha."

Inside, Eve interviewed salesmen and I admired a painting of an auburn-haired woman, front and center on an upper-floor wall, pose regal, features delicate, a sweet expression as she looked down on everyone.

"Who is she?" I asked a woman behind a counter.

"Madeira? Maddie Cutler, star pupil, is that you?"

I knew the face but it took a minute to get a name. "Natalie Hayward? How are you?" I'd once taken an advanced sewing course from her, a rare adult who let you call them by their first name. She must be in her early fifties, by now. "You look great," I said.

"I am and so glad that you're back to stay."

"Me, too. Do you work here? No more sewing lessons?"

Her eyes crinkled with her smile. "Administrative a.s.sistant to the owner pays better."

So why sit in an information booth? I wondered.

"I'm filling in during the floor manager's break," she said. "I like to get out of the office once in a while. What did you want to know?"

"The name of the woman in that painting?"

"Oh, she's the last of Zachary Goodwin's direct line, his daughter, Gwendolyn. Zachary's great-great-grandfather started the dealers.h.i.+p and swore it would stay in the family, though an in-law owns the place now. Gwendolyn's painting has to stay up, or her second cousin inherits. He's the dark-haired man having coffee over there."

"The one in the wheelchair?" The man Eve and I might have seen kissing Suzanne Sampson in her backyard. How many men in wheelchairs could there be in Mystick Falls?

"Yep. Gary Goodwin. Comes in every day to be sure her picture's still there. G.o.d forbid we should have an earthquake and it falls. Gary will take right over." She laughed as if she made a joke, but it seemed forced.

"Would it be a disaster if he took over?"

"No, everyone likes Gary, but he doesn't have what it takes to make Goodwin's flourish."

"Why do you say that?"

"He votes against dealers.h.i.+p needs at board meetings, because he hates the owner. Gary should have inherited. Zachary Goodwin's will was a surprise." Natalie caught someone's eye and stiffened.

I looked behind me but saw only the man in question looking the other way.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm talking out of turn."

"It's okay. I like local history. One more thing. Has Goodwin needed that chair his whole life?"

"No, it was a car accident before they opened this place. His physical injuries healed to the extent they could, but that's old news."

"Excuse us," Eve said, pulling me well away from the central counter. "No paying cash, Mad, which I know is your preference," she whispered. "You want a payment plan to give you wiggle room, money wise. You can always pay it off early, if Vintage Magic is hopping. What color?"