The Mezzo Wore Mink (24 page)

“
Isn’t that something?” said Darla. “Ruby inheriting the crematorium.”

“
I would have been nicer to that old bat,” said Debbie, “if I’d known she was rich. She was as tight as a tick and as mean as a boiled owl. Never tipped me. Not once.”

“
Me, neither,” said Darla.

“
I almost shot her once,” said Grace. “She deserved it, too. Called me white trash because I wouldn’t give her double coupons on a Tuesday. A Tuesday! Can you believe it?”

“
Pshaw!” said Amelia. “You
should
have shot her. Everyone knows double coupons is on Wednesday.”

•••

Nancy was sitting at my desk studying intently. Dave was looking over her shoulder and both of them had looks of concentration on their faces. They both looked up when they heard me come in.

“
Found anything yet?” I asked.

“
Nothing,” said Nancy. “We’re not reading the whole thing. Just looking for something that would have jumped out at Davis.”

“
Yeah,” I said. I’d told the force, i.e. Nancy and Dave, about Davis’ sudden departure from Eden Books after viewing
The Sketchbook of Geoffrey Crayon
and they’d been scouring it for any kind of clue.

“
Be careful of those pages,” I admonished. “It’s an antique. One of a kind. A signed first edition.”

Nancy held up her hands. She was wearing her cotton dress gloves.

“
Ah,” I said. “Very well. Carry on.”

•••

I was cutting across the park, heading for the Upper Womb with a few questions for Chad Parker. Suddenly a voice rang out.

“
Hayden!”

I turned and saw Muffy Lemieux waving and hurrying toward me.

I waved back at her. She saw me stop and slowed her pace from a skip to a languid sway. I tipped my hat back and admired her perambulation.

“
Hi, Hayden,” she said, smiling as she walked up.

“
Good afternoon,” I said, returning the smile and touching the brim of my hat.

“
Hey, can I ask you a big favor?”

“
Doesn’t hurt to ask,” I said.

“
Me and Varmit are going to audition for
The Living Gobbler
and we need a song. I was hoping you’d have a suggestion.”

“
Hmm. I would suggest some sort of duet. Do you know any musicals?”

“
I do, but Varmit doesn’t.”

“
Well, what does he know?”

“
Country songs, mostly,” shrugged Muffy.

“
Any duets?”

She brightened. “I’m pretty sure he knows
Get Your Biscuits In The Oven And Your Buns In The Bed
. It’s ‘our’ song.”

“
Do that one, then,” I suggested. “I’m sure you’ll be a hit.”

“
Why,
thank you
,” she said in an accent just a little too Southern to be real. “You’re the best!”

I nodded to her and doffed my hat again. Then I turned and headed toward the spa. I could get used to this hat thing. It saved a lot of talking.

“
Hey,” Muffy said again, suddenly appearing in step beside me. “Are you going over to the Upper Womb? I’m headed that way, myself.”

“
Yep. I was hoping to talk to Chad.”

“
You’ll probably have to make an appointment.”

“
Really?”

“
Oh, yes. I had a massage scheduled for two weeks from Thursday, but he had an unexpected cancellation so I’m getting in early.” Muffy lowered her voice. “Someone died.”

I nodded. “So, he’s pretty busy?”

“
Well, duh,” Muffy said. “Have you seen him? Every woman in town’s been scheduling massages.” Muffy was nothing if not delicate.

“
It’s just a massage though. Right? Nothing else.”

Muffy’s mouth dropped open and she looked quite offended. “Of
course
, it’s just a massage.” Then she giggled. “And a little fantasizing.”

We walked up on the front porch of the spa-coffee shop and I held the door for her as she walked in.

“
You know,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Lacie Ravencroft is doing massages, too. Varmit came in last Friday. You might want to give it a try.”

•••

Muffy was a few minutes early for her appointment, but disappeared up the long staircase and into a waiting room on the second floor. Cynthia was in the coffee bar, bussing a table. Sitting at another table were Annette Passaglio and Wendy Bolling.

“
Afternoon, ladies,” I said.

“
Hey there,” said Cynthia, putting the last of the dirty dishes onto a tray. Annette and Wendy smiled pleasantly and nodded, but I noticed the conversation had stopped.

“
Here for a massage?” I asked them.

“
Not today,” Wendy answered. Annette gave her a kick under the table, but never stopped smiling.

“
We just stopped in for a cup of coffee,” said Annette pleasantly. “Do they give massages here, too?”

“
Why, you know,” said Wendy, “I believe they do. I think that I heard that somewhere.”

“
Perhaps we should try it sometime,” said Annette. Wendy nodded.

“
That sounds like a good idea,” I said. “I hear it’s very relaxing. Y’all have a nice day.”

Annette smiled. Wendy looked nervous. I followed Cynthia into the kitchen. She set the tray on the counter and started unloading it into the dishwasher.

“
Annette’s been here four times in the last five days,” Cynthia whispered. “And that’s only because we’re closed on Sundays. Chad’s doing a brisk business.”

I nodded. “How about Lacie?”

“
She does okay. Men aren’t as apt to come in for massages—at least not in this town. She does have some female clients though. Most of her business consists of consultations. Holistic and wellness programs.”

“
Hey! You ready for the big debate?”

“
Sure, I’m ready. But, to tell you the truth, I’m scared to death. This is all my new publicist’s idea.”

“
You’ll do fine,” I said. “Is Lacie here?”

“
I think so. I didn’t see her leave. I could check the appointment book.”

“
Would you?” I asked.

“
Sure.”

Cynthia, drying her hands on a dishtowel, headed for a door in the kitchen marked “office.”

“
Could you also look and see if Davis Boothe came in for an appointment? Maybe two weeks ago?”

Cynthia looked at me and pursed her lips but didn’t answer.

“
Look, I won’t say anything to Chad or Lacie—at least not directly. It would help.”

Cynthia gave a faint nod, opened the door to the office and disappeared.

I leaned against the counter, tugged the brim of my hat into what might be a rakish angle, then folded my arms in front of me and felt, for all the world, just like a detective. Cynthia appeared a moment later.

“
It’s the hat,” she said. “Who can resist the hat?”

“
Of all the coffee joints in all the towns in all the world, I walked into yours,” I snarled, in my best Bogeyese. “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”

Cynthia laughed. “As far as I know, Lacie’s upstairs with a client for another…” she looked at her watch, “five minutes or so. As for Davis Boothe, he had a 1:00 appointment with Chad on September 29th. That was a Saturday.”

“
The day before he died.”

Cynthia shrugged. “I guess so.”

“
Do you think that you could go up and tell Chad and Lacie I need to speak with them for a few moments?”

“
Sure. They usually take a five minute break between clients in the afternoon.”

“
Thanks, Sweetheart,” I Bogeyed. “You’re the best. By the way, do you have any of those rhubarb muffins?”

“
What rhubarb muffins?”

“
Lacie said you were going to put rhubarb muffins on the menu.”

“
Nope.” Cynthia shook her head. “We have pumpkin-spice, blueberry, banana-nut, raspberry, and cranberry. No rhubarb.”

“
Pity,” I said. “I love rhubarb.”

•••

I waited in the hallway while Cynthia went upstairs to get Chad Parker and Lacie Ravencroft.

The plastered hallway of Old Mrs. McCarty’s house was still mostly covered in 1940’s vintage flowered wallpaper. Where someone had begun to remove it, probably Mrs. McCarty’s daughter during one of her visits home, some lathe peeked out from underneath the plaster. The old house was in good shape, but definitely needed some updating. The light switches were still the old pushbutton type and I could glimpse the old knob and tube wiring through a gap in the boards.

I looked up when I heard footfalls on the stairs and saw Lacie coming down followed by Cynthia and Chad. I smiled as I greeted them. Mr. Congeniality.

“
Good afternoon, Chief,” said Lacie.

“
Afternoon,” I said. “Could I have a couple of minutes?”

“
Sure,” said Chad. “How can we help?”

“
Can we go out on the porch?”

“
Great idea,” said Lacie. “Can I get us some tea?”

“
No, thanks. I won’t be here that long.”

Cynthia excused herself back to the coffee bar while Chad, Lacie, and I repaired to the front porch.

“
I just have a couple of questions,” I said. “You know about Thelma Wingler’s will?”

“
Yes,” said Chad. “We found out on Friday. It was a very generous gift to our ministry.”

“
It certainly was,” I said. “Especially since she’d known you less than a month before she died.”

“
Well, I won’t tell you I was surprised by her death,” said Chad. “I was saddened, certainly, but Thelma had many problems of which I’m sure you are now aware.”

I nodded. “This gift to your ministry. Was this her idea or yours?”

“
Just what are you implying?” bristled Lacie.

“
I’m implying that perhaps you suggested that your ministry be included in her will. I’m implying that she might not have included the Upper Womb in her will if you hadn’t mentioned it to her.” I smiled amiably. “Nothing wrong with that; nothing illegal and there’s no one to contest it.”