A Masked Murder, page 2
CHAPTER TWO
“Good morning.” With a scowl on her face, Mrs. Hayman looked down her nose at Autumn, adjusting her perfectly dyed, gleaming coiffure. “Did the committee agree that we were going to allow pets at these meetings?”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t even think of it, and didn’t ask the chairman.” Autumn looked down at Max, who was wagging his tail in delight, clearly feeding off the disapproving thought waves directed at him. “I can leave him outside, no problem. He can easily wait at the front of the building.”
The town hall’s small annex room had a table that sat six, a big bay window, and a rather musty smelling carpet, patterned in blue and white. There were a few wooden boards on the walls, with their gold lettering immortalizing the names of VIPs and achievers like the Town Council Head of Office, the Magnolia Island Marathon Winner, and the Chairman of the Board of Trustees.
Max was very good at waiting. And she’d be able to watch him through the window. Nobody would dream of stealing a dog in Magnolia Bay, in any case. Even if they tried, by the time they reached the ferry, someone would be saying, “Oh, that’s Max. Let me give Autumn a call and she’ll fetch him.”
It was one of the reasons she loved island life so much. In general, at least. Autumn wasn’t so sure about this specific moment.
But her generous offer to take Max outside had taken the wind from Mrs. Hayman’s sails. Autumn suspected she’d just been looking to start an argument. In any case, she sighed huffily.
“Well, I suppose if he’s quiet…”
“I hope he will be,” Autumn said. Max was usually very quiet. Of course, now that Mrs. Hayman had said that, he’d probably leap up and have a barking fit.
Crossing her fingers, she headed over to the chair with the least view of the window.
“Sit, Max,” she said.
Max sat.
Autumn sat too, the scrape of her chair very loud in the sudden silence. If only she'd known that Mrs. Hayman was on the committee before she'd agreed to step in. When she had been asked by the committee member who'd had to leave because her mum had broken her leg and she had to head to the mainland to help her for a few weeks, it had seemed like a fun and worthwhile endeavor.
She hadn’t realized until now that scary Mrs. Hayman was part of the team driving this project forward.
How could she break the frosty silence that had descended?
Talking about Mrs. Hayman’s cat was the obvious answer. In fact, the cat was the reason why there was now a conflicted relationship between herself and the grand dame.
Mrs. Hayman had visited Dr. Hartley at the same time Autumn had done. Mrs. Hayman had gotten it firmly into her head that Autumn had stolen some of her appointment time, time that she had set aside to converse with the handsome vet, while having him examine the cat for a nonexistent ailment.
Not that Autumn could point fingers in that regard, having brought Max to the vet with an imaginary sore paw, with the aim of spending more time with him.
“How is Ziggy?” she asked.
For a moment, Mrs. Hayman’s stern face softened.
“Ziggy is well. This week, anyway,” she said, thoughts of Dr. Hartley clearly surfacing in her mind as she prepared for next week’s chat. Then, remembering Autumn’s presence at the vet’s that day, she glowered at her again.
“I’m glad to hear it. What’s on the agenda for today’s meeting?” Autumn tried.
Mrs. Hayman folded her hands. “We have a rule that we only discuss the agenda once all committee members are here. Otherwise, it gets confusing. Not to mention exhausting, repeating ourselves over and over.”
“Ah.” Autumn said, unable to think of anything to say after that.
Luckily, the awkward silence was broken a minute later by the door opening again. It gave a distinctive squeak that Autumn was sure she'd get used to if she carried on being part of the committee. She wasn't sure she wanted to do that. But having volunteered, she was in it for now and couldn't back out.
The man who walked in looked as cheerful as Mrs. Hayman seemed sour.
"Good morning, good morning." The man, with a ginger goatee and wearing a striped shirt, headed straight over to shake Autumn's hand. "I'm Thom Voigt, chairman of the committee and the owner of Voigt Events and Entertainment. We're the sponsor for the masked ball. Our other sponsors include Magnolia Bay Cider Company and Vinnie's Catering. We're doing a lot of work on the island – I've lived here for three years – and I've had a number of my clients speak highly of Harbor View. And your sister runs Odds and Ends, that lovely store on the high street, doesn't she?"
“Yes, that shop is Willow’s passion,” Autumn admitted. Willow would be thrilled to know her shop had been mentioned in this meeting.
“It’s wonderful to be working with you,” she added, noting that Mrs. Hayman didn’t look too pleased about their friendly exchange. “And the masked ball is really one of the island’s most fun events. I’m so excited to be involved this year.”
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. She was nervous about being involved. But Autumn decided a positive stance would be the best approach.
“This year’s theme is The Art of Illusion,” Thom explained.
“The Art of Illusion! What a wonderful theme,” Autumn enthused.
“Yes. As you might have seen on the flyer, we’re featuring the work of a renowned local artist at the ball. Rowan Stafford, who specializes in illusion in his paintings.”
“Promoting local art is always a win-win,” Mrs. Hayman conceded. Luckily, the atmosphere felt easier now, and Autumn was more confident they’d be able to work together as a team.
The next two committee members arrived – Joan and Maisie Syndercombe, retired sisters who’d lived on the island most of their lives, and loved getting involved in local events. Looking at their enthusiastic, smiling faces with halos of white-blond hair, Autumn decided that she could see herself and her younger sister Willow in their shoes – say, fifty years from now.
“Shall we start?” Mrs. Hayman said, checking her watch in a pointed way as Joan and Maisie sat down. Maisie was clearly the minute taker, opening a shorthand notebook and with her pen at the ready.
“Yes, let’s get going. I’d like to mention that a number of people have asked us why the masked ball is not on the actual day of the equinox,” Thom explained. “We’ve explained it’s always on the Saturday following the equinox, so that people can sleep in on the Sunday. And we’ve also had a lot of questions about the catering.”
“What are those questions?” Autumn asked, wondering what people were curious about.
"Vegetarian food was a big one. Then we also had people wanting gluten-free options."
“Oh, honestly,” Mrs. Hayman said. “What’s wrong with a bit of gluten? When I was a girl, there was no such thing as fancy dietary requirements. I ate what was on my plate or got a spanking.”
“Well,” Thom said diplomatically, “people are paying for tickets, and the customer is always right, so we need to contact the caterers and make sure about that.”
“I’ll do that!” Autumn said, glad to be useful in her first committee meeting.
“We also need to have a supply of spare masks in stock. People often arrive with one they find uncomfortable, or forget their mask, and so we need a few different designs, from very basic, to larger and more detailed.”
“I will take care of the masks,” Mrs. Hayman said haughtily. “You can trust me to add just enough bling. I have excellent taste.”
“We’ve sent out the flyers and we’re almost fully booked. Part of the attraction must be the art, I think,” Maisie said.
"Yes," Joan agreed. "I've had several people already asking me if paintings will be on sale and if the artist will be available to speak about his work."
What an amazing initiative, Autumn thought, impressed by the creativity of this dedicated committee. Even though Mrs. Hayman clearly didn’t like her, she would always resent her, but Autumn felt hopeful they could put their differences aside to ensure the ball’s success.
“We need to make sure the media is briefed. The Magnolia Herald is running a front page article on the ball tomorrow, with contact details for people wanting the last few tickets, and a history of the ball.”
“What about social media?” Autumn asked.
“What? You mean you want to promote it there?” Mrs. Hayman wrinkled her nose, looking perplexed.
“Well, there are quite a few different social media groups that publish events, on the island and also in the neighboring towns on the mainland. I’d suggest we put together a short message, with a collage of pics, for those groups to share. Really, if the event gets bigger, it will need its own social media pages.”
“Good heavens!” Mrs. Hayman said faintly, as if overcome by the complexity of these newfangled online activities.
“That’s a great idea,” Thom said. “Autumn, if you can put something together, then we’ll all share it. You’ll find a file of photos you can use on the island’s website under Events. Now, back to logistics. We need to make sure that the lighting team arrives at least three hours earlier – they’ll need to have at least two buggies waiting – and that the sound team is here at least four hours before time,” Thom explained.
Autumn felt fascinated as the discussion continued, punctuated by enthusiastic input from everybody, and by cups of tea made by Joan, who scurried into the tiny annex next door and shuttled them to the table.
Wherever possible, she volunteered to do a task, but she was feeling inundated by the sheer volume of logistics. No wonder it took an entire committee to make sure it ran successfully. Especially seeing it was such a great showcase for the island itself. The glamorous ball attracted a different echelon of visitor, those who loved ‘experience’ tourism.
And that would lead to a lot more opportunities on the island. In the past two weeks, Autumn had seen and heard about a few new available activities. Someone had started a zipline adventure experience in the northern area of forest. It was doing well. Somebody else had started a spiritual walk and meditation in a quiet grotto. Also in the northern forest. Not in the same place as the ziplining, of course. It was attracting lots of customers – in fact Autumn had had two zipliners, and two spiritual meditation customers so far. She thought it was simply wonderful, and felt so proud of the island’s creative potential.
“So, are we all ready?” With a startle, Autumn was jerked out of her brief daydream, drawing another judgmental glare from Mrs. Hayman, who didn’t miss the tiniest nuance. Thom had spoken the words, and Autumn took another quick look at her list before nodding enthusiastically.
"Well, then. This will be our last meeting before the masked ball. We should really have another, but we all have day jobs, and our various calendars have been so busy I haven't been able to schedule it, so from here on, we'll communicate regularly via calls and messages to iron out any last-minute issues. Let's hope it's a huge success, and that this is the best fall equinox masked ball ever, which puts our island on the map like no event has every done before," Thom concluded.
“To the masked ball!” Everyone raised their teacups in a toast.
Then, Autumn stood up, feeling grateful that Max had behaved himself perfectly. Never mind a bark, her dog had not emitted as much as a snore. What a model pet he was, she thought proudly.
But, as they were walking out, Thom tapped her on the shoulder.
“Autumn?”
There was an odd note in his voice that hadn't been there before. She turned, hesitating, allowing the others to filter out. They did so without noticing that Autumn had been delayed by Thom. In her ringing voice, Mrs. Hayman was explaining Ziggy's coat care regime to the sisters.
“Twenty minutes of brushing a day, and I make sure to feed him nutritious food, with enough oils.” Her voice faded away as she headed out.
“Yes. What is it?” Autumn asked Thom, automatically lowering her voice, just as he’d done.
"There's something I'd like to speak to you about. I didn't want to say anything in front of the others, but – just to avoid any potential disasters on Saturday night, there's something I think you should know."
CHAPTER THREE
“What is the potential disaster?” Autumn asked Thom, worry and intrigue blending uneasily inside her. Max looked at the door, whined once, and then sat obediently down on the carpet again.
“It’s to do with the artist, the star draw card, Rowan Stafford,” Thom said, in a voice close to a whisper, as if speaking any bad about the great man was heresy.
“What about him?” Autumn asked.
“You know – I couldn’t really do anything, because unfortunately the committee voted on the decision and he was the favorite, but I – well – I don’t know if you know him?”
Autumn racked her brains. She didn’t want to seem ignorant about art, and it was an area where she wanted to learn, but she didn’t know as much about Stafford, or his technique, as she felt she should.
“No. I don’t know him at all. I haven’t really been exposed to his work, although I’ve heard great things,” she said. That was true. She had heard his name mentioned, even though she hadn’t known about his signature style, or that he painted artwork that resembled illusions.
“I’ve met him a few times and I – well, I’ve found him to be a very difficult man. You know, he’s got – well, not an overinflated idea of his own talent, because he is very talented. But he definitely does have an ego, if you understand me?”
Autumn nodded. She thought she did understand the personality type that Thom was hinting at. She occasionally had guests like him at the bed and breakfast, and it was always a tense time looking after them. They were generally difficult people and could get upset by the smallest of issues.
“I can visualize what he is like,” she said.
Thom nodded. “I don’t want anything to go wrong, or for him to end up causing an argument or insulting one of the guests, or anything like that.”
Autumn’s eyes widened. Did Thom really think such a thing could happen? That was very concerning.
“Something like that could spoil the entire event,” she agreed.
He nodded. "Exactly. So, in view of that, I'd like you to keep a close eye on him. You seem like a very service-oriented person. Empathetic, understanding, you know?"
Autumn smiled ruefully. That, she was. Her sunny personality and ability to listen had always been praised, as far back as junior school.
“I do try to be a good listener,” she admitted.
“So, perhaps your role as the committee member on the evening itself – apart from enjoying the event, of course – could just be to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t step out of line?”
"I'll gladly do that," Autumn said, even though she was fretting inwardly. She had bed and breakfast guests who were attending and knew she'd need to make sure they were happy and looked after. And what about Ben? She'd hoped that the evening might give her a chance to work on the budding romance between them.
Still, she’d volunteered to be on this committee, and duty came first.
She nodded confidently, and he looked relieved, as if a big worry had been set aside. The frown lines she’d seen on his forehead during the meeting were now much softer than they had been.
“Great,” he said. “And it’s been wonderful working with you. Hope we continue to have a good working relationship.”
“Likewise,” she said.
With that, they headed out, and Autumn carried on walking down the street, lightly swirled with gold and red leaves.
The meeting had been shorter than she’d expected. That meant she didn’t have to rush back to Harbor View, and instead, could take a walk through town and have a quick word with her sister Willow.
“This way, Max,” she said. She didn’t have to tell him twice. Max loved a walk down the high street. The minute he’d figured out which way she was going, he forged ahead, tail waving, practically dragging her behind him.
“Hey, heel!” Autumn protested, before deciding Max was right. No point in walking slowly. It wasn’t like she was on vacation. It was a busy day, and she had a lot to do.
So, she sped up her pace as well, marching down the road, nodding greetings at the tourists and locals who were out enjoying the sunshine, and only slowing down when she reached the shopping area where Willow’s store was located.
The fragrance and soap shop drew her in, as it always did. She didn’t know how anyone could walk past that shop without being lured by the irresistible blend of fragrances. The shopkeeper, Annie, who was blond and slim and fragile looking, was so talented and creative, making almost all of the products herself. Handmade on the island. She even had what she called a signature Magnolia Bay fragrance. The top note was, of course, magnolia.
“Good morning,” Autumn said, standing in the middle of the shop and breathing in and out, a happy, contented sigh of bliss. Then, she moved to the display of soaps, picking up a few bars that she could use in the restrooms, and the bathrooms.
“Everything going well, Autumn?” Annie was busy packaging up an order of soaps that Autumn guessed was going to be hand delivered elsewhere on the island, with the help of the friendly post buggy.
“Busy, for this time of the year,” Autumn said.
“Isn’t it? I haven’t had a moment to breathe in the shop. Still, I suppose we can all be thankful. Good to be busy, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.” Autumn paid for the soaps, and then went next door to Willow’s shop, Odds and Ends, tying Max outside because the shop was too small and crowded, and his wagging tail could easily cause a breakage.
In the soap shop, you knew what to expect. Soap and fragrances were the order of the day. But in Willow’s shop, you never knew what you would find. Surprises were the order of the day.
When Autumn walked in, the first thing she saw was a small table with a few packs of playing cards on them. But what beautiful playing cards they were. Each pack was different, and each had scenes from the island itself printed on the backs. Next to the table was an arrangement of vases – hand-painted and gloriously colorful. They came in every size ranging from small – the right size for just one rosebud – to huge – an ornamental masterpiece that came up to Autumn's thighs.
