Corsets and Casualties, page 7
“Yep. As Indiana Jones.” He looked at me. “Isn’t that what we decided on, Pup?”
“Just a minute ago, we did.” I nodded. “And, Trish, I’m still working on that estimate for you.”
“I’m going to be a fairy princess,” Trish told Grandpa.
“Elf,” I said. “An elf—”
“We should get together more often, Dave.” Trish placed her hand on Grandpa’s arm. “Brainstorming like this is priceless.”
“I agree,” Grandpa said. “You heard the woman, Dwight. We need to make lunch from Dot’s Diner a regular thing—quarterly or something.”
Squeezing past them, I got my sandwich and took it to my desk.
A couple of minutes later, Ford came through to the reception area with a container in his hand. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
Ford sat at one of the chairs in front of my desk and looked toward the atelier to make sure no one else was coming into the reception area. “I don’t want anyone to overhear us.”
I got up and closed the door between the reception area and the atelier. “What is it?”
“I spoke with my brother-in-law last night, and he said there’s evidence pointing to Cal’s shooting being an inside job.”
Gasping, I sat back down. “What makes him think that?”
“Whoever shot Cal knew how to avoid detection by the security cameras and how to escape without being seen.”
“Do...do you think it could be Xavier?”
Ford shrugged. “Anything is possible, but I wouldn’t rule anybody out.”
I leaned closer. “You mean, you think Cal might’ve been shot by his wife?”
“I’m just saying anything is possible.” He placed the food container on the desk and opened it. “Mm, this looks good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
Max strolled through the atelier wall. “I told you we need to find a way to cozy up to Cal’s wife.”
{ }
Chapter Eleven
Dwight and Grandpa Dave were with Max and me in the atelier after lunch. Everyone else had gone back to their shops.
“I feel good about the advice I’ve been given,” Dwight said. “I just hope I can convince Maggie to make a change.”
“I hope so, too,” Max said. “By the way, did I hear you mention that you’d been to the hospital this morning?”
“We went,” Grandpa said, “but it didn’t do us much good. We didn’t get to speak with anyone except the guard outside Cal’s room, and he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—even tell us how Cal was doing.”
Without betraying what Ford had told me in confidence, Max mused, “I wonder how well Mr. Griffin and his missus were getting along?”
“I have no idea,” Dwight said. “I’m not really acquainted with Mr. Griffin. I just feel some sense of duty because Dave and I arrived on the scene after he’d been shot.”
“I’ll tell you who does know the Griffins—Trish.” Max nods. “She was talking with Mrs. Griffin just this morning. Maybe she’d give you the scoop, Dave.”
I huffed. “Max, I thought you were opposed to Trish trying to cozy up to Grandpa.”
“I absolutely am,” she said. “But this is him cozying up to her for some information. And it’s just this one time.”
“I’m not cozying up to anybody unless I really like that person,” Grandpa said. “I’m not about to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“Oh, applesauce.” She flicked her wrist. “I’m not saying you have to go on a date with the dame, just flash those baby blues at her and get her to introduce us to Caroline Griffin.”
Grandpa sighed. “I guess I could go up and speak with Trish to further brainstorm about that vacant space. Maybe I can offer to take a look and see if there’s anything I can do to help the aesthetics or to enhance the shop from a carpenter’s point of view.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dwight said. “You might even get a carpentry job out of it.”
Although Grandpa was retired, he still enjoyed dabbling in woodwork.
“I think it’s nice of you to provide suggestions on making the space more appealing. Getting information to help find Cal’s killer would simply be the icing on the cake.” I wasn’t happy with Max’s suggestion of Grandpa “cozying up” to Trish, but his idea was a good one. “I’ll finish the estimate on Trish’s costume, and you can take that up to her when you go to speak with her, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind in the least, Pup.” He followed me into the office, leaving Max and Dwight chatting. Lowering his voice, he said, “I don’t mean to interfere, but is everything okay between you and Jason?”
“Everything’s fine.” I smiled at him, pleased that he was concerned about me. “He’s just really busy this time of year with school pics and senior photo shoots on top of his usual engagement and wedding commitments.”
“All right. I never want to be a buttinsky, but I’m always here for you.”
“I know.” To further reassure Grandpa that everything was okay between Jason and me, I told him about our date the night before. “Jason texted me another apology this morning, but I told him he has nothing to apologize for. I even made excuses for Xavier, telling Jason the poor guy was probably just shaken up.”
“Maybe so, but if he was so torn up that it caused him to behave like a jerk, he should have declined your invitation.”
Then, because I have no secrets from Grandpa, I said, “Ford told me in strict confidence that the police believe the shooting was an inside job.”
“And Max suspects Mrs. Griffin?”
“Or Xavier. Either way, it would help to get Mrs. Griffin’s thoughts on who she believes might’ve shot her husband, and I’m guessing she’d tell a friend sooner than she’d tell the police.”
Grandpa arched an eyebrow. “So, if I can charm Trish into telling me that Mrs. Griffin confessed to shooting her husband, that would be great.”
Laughing, I said, “If anyone can charm her, it’s you. You’ve got rizz.”
“I’ve got frizz?” He reached up to smooth his hair.
“No—rizz. It means charisma. Zoe taught the word to Max and me the other day. Max says she’s eat up with rizz.”
He chuckled. “Glad to know I’m in such good company. Are you finished with that estimate yet?”
“Yes. Please ask Trish to call me with any questions or concerns she might have. I’ll check with her later today to see if she wants to move forward with the costume.”
I followed Grandpa back into the atelier where he told Dwight he’d be right back.
“Ooh, I’d better tag along for moral support,” Max said.
“Just don’t distract me,” Grandpa told her.
“Then don’t look at me, darling. I can’t help how fabulously distracting I am.”
Dwight was shaking his head when I joined him in the atelier. “She’s a sight, that one.”
“Not for everybody,” I reminded him, with a grin.
“True.”
“She was saying earlier today that she wished she could have known you when you were a little boy.”
“I wish that too.” He gave me a sad smile. “I’d have loved to have seen her and my mom together.”
Before Dwight and I could travel any further along on our sentimental stroll, Zoe came bursting into the office with Maggie on her heels.
“I don’t get what the big deal is!” Zoe shouted.
Dwight cleared his throat. “We’ll get to the bottom of whatever is going on, but we need to respect Amanda and the other vendors here and not raise our voices.”
“Sorry,” Zoe said.
“Now, what’s going on?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Maggie said. “I got a call from the school nurse because Zoe was in her office complaining of feeling sick. I had to leave the diner and go get her.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Dwight asked.
“I didn’t want you to either have to inconvenience Dave or wait for a ride. Besides, I’d have worried about Zoe the rest of the afternoon and evening until I could get home and check on her myself.” She glared in Zoe’s direction. “But I needn’t have worried. She isn’t sick at all.”
“Would you prefer it if I was sick?” Zoe asked.
“Of course, I wouldn’t. I’d prefer for you to have stayed at school like you should have,” Maggie said.
Feeling a blast of cold air to my right, I glanced over to see Max popping into the room almost on top of me.
“When the nurse called you, I was feeling sick,” Zoe said. “I was feeling nauseous and was afraid I’d throw up if I had to run a mile in gym class today.”
“Way to be resourceful, kiddo,” Max said.
“You’re not helping, Aunt Max. It’s not resourceful or clever to pretend to be sick to get out of gym class,” Maggie said.
“I promise, I wasn’t faking. I really did feel sick. Just because I’m better now doesn’t mean I wasn’t sick then. I got some fresh air and a soda, and now I feel better.”
“Great. I’ll take you back to school then.”
“By the time you got me there, school would be over,” Zoe said.
Maggie sighed. “Whatever. I have to get back to the diner. Daddy, can you get her home?”
“You know I can,” he said.
She pinned Zoe with another glare. “This had better not become a habit.”
“It won’t,” Zoe said.
“I’ll see you after work.” She moved to hug Zoe, but her daughter stepped away from her. Tightening her lips, Maggie merely turned and left.
“Hey, come on,” Max said softly. “Go catch up to her and give her a hug.”
“You might regret it if you don’t,” Dwight added. “Your mom has a lot going on right now, and you should give her a break.”
I didn’t say anything, and Zoe zeroed in on my silence.
“What about you, Amanda? What do you think?”
“I desperately hope you and your mom can sort out your differences, but I’ve been where you are and understand how you’re feeling,” I said. “You want your mom to respect you and treat you like an adult.”
Zoe flung her arms into the air. “Thank you!”
“But you also need to behave like an adult,” I continued. “I think you and your mom need to meet up at a neutral location—like a coffee shop—and tell each other how you feel. And be honest.”
“I wasn’t lying about feeling sick,” Zoe insisted.
“I didn’t say you were.” I shrugged. “If you’d have simply been sick of gym class, I’d understand that. Most of us can commiserate.”
“Well, I probably could have made myself go,” she said. “But my stomach was queasy and with everything else that’s going on, it was more than I felt I could handle today.”
Giving her a one-armed hug, I said, “I feel you. Everybody needs a break sometimes.”
“I’m gonna go text Mom.” Zoe took her phone out of her backpack and went into the office.
Trish and Grandpa were discussing the vacant space when they walked into Designs on You together.
“I think the freestanding shelves you mentioned are a wonderful idea, Dave,” Trish said. “Please draw up some plans and a cost estimate for me, and I’ll run it by Mrs. Meacham.”
Mrs. Meacham was the owner of Shops on Main, and I was pretty sure she’d bow to Trish’s judgment on any enhancements the space should have. Anything to get the place leased.
“Trish and Mrs. Griffin are friends,” I said to Dwight. “Perhaps she can give you an update on Mr. Griffin’s condition. I told her how you and Grandpa arrived at the auction house soon after Mr. Griffin was shot and how concerned you and he have been about the poor man ever since.”
“Yes. Finding out anything has been next to impossible. Dave and I were at the hospital earlier today, but we couldn’t get in to see Mr. Griffin. The guard on his door is being particularly tight-lipped about his health. We just want to know he’s going to be all right.”
“Well, Cal is still in a medically induced coma, and there’s a guard stationed outside his door at all times because the police are afraid that the person who shot him might come back,” Trish said. “They’re being especially cautious. However, the doctors are optimistic that Cal will recover.”
“That’s a relief to hear,” Dwight said.
“Indeed, it is,” Grandpa said. “If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know.”
“I don’t think there is.” Trish’s expression turned calculating. “But I can arrange for all of us to have coffee together, if you’d like. Caroline might have questions about something you might have seen that day.”
“The police have already—” Dwight began.
“Hush, darling,” Max said. “This is what we want.”
“Oh, yeah,” Dwight finished.
“Oh, yeah?” Trish echoed.
“What I meant was that we’d love to have coffee with Mrs. Griffin.”
{ }
Chapter Twelve
After Dwight and Grandpa Dave left to go price the supplies needed for the shelving estimate, I measured Trish for her costume.
“I have an idea for a beautiful headpiece for your costume,” Zoe told her, as she picked up her sketchbook and colored pencils. “It would have greenery and purple roses, glittery lavender and white butterflies, and a white crystal hanging here between your eyebrows.” She turned the rough sketch around to Trish. “What do you think?”
“That would be incredible!” Trish clasped her hands together. “Do it, please. I don’t care what it costs.”
“Don’t worry—I won’t price gouge you.” Zoe started finalizing the sketch. “Amanda, could you measure her head for me please?”
“I’ll be happy to.”
Max sighed and leaned close to whisper to me. “I wish Maggie could see Zoe like this. The kid is in her element.”
I merely smiled and wrapped my measuring tape around Trish’s head.
“That was a good idea you had about Maggie and Zoe sitting down and having an adult conversation, although I do think there should be a mediator there—like me.” Max brightened. “Maybe you could have it here.”
“Mm-hmm.” I reported the size of Trish’s head to Zoe, thinking to myself that having Max be the mediator between Maggie and Zoe wasn’t a good idea at all. I was sure Maggie saw Max and me as part of the problem rather than part of the solution.
Trish returned to her office excited at the prospect of her charming costume. Zoe worked on a list of items she’d need to create the headpiece. I searched for a pattern that would allow me to bring the gown to life. Jazzy napped on her bed in the atelier. Max read A Knight in Shining Armor by Jude Deveraux and pretended to swoon every few minutes. I could almost be lulled into thinking that the rest of the day would pass peacefully.
And then my phone rang.
“Thank you for calling Designs on You,” I answered all chipper and professional. “How may I help you today?”
“It’s me, Pup. I’m at the emergency room with Dwight and Maggie.”
Max, who could hear Grandpa through the phone even without my having it on speaker, gasped.
I went very still. “Has something happened to Dwight?”
Zoe lifted her head, eyes and mouth open wide.
“Dwight is fine,” Grandpa said.
“He’s okay, Zoe,” Max said.
“Please put him on speaker,” Zoe said.
I did as she requested.
“Maggie had a little fender-bender on her way back to work, and the hospital called Dwight. I brought him here to the emergency room.”
“They don’t call the family if it’s a fender-bender.” There was a sob just below the surface of Zoe’s words. “What really happened? How’s my mom?”
“She’s a little banged up—she hurt her ankle—but she’s going to be fine,” Grandpa said.
“I’ll close the shop and bring Zoe to the ER,” I said.
“Drive carefully, Pup. There’s no need to rush.”
“No need to rush? Is my mom dead?” Zoe cried.
“No, honey, she’s fine. I promise. Do you want me to put your Papaw on the phone?”
“Yes.” Her voice was small and hollow.
Sometimes it was easy to forget Zoe was still a teenager. This was not one of those times. Right now, she seemed even younger.
Dwight came on the phone. “Dimples, have I ever lied to you?”
“No.”
“Then trust me when I say that your mother is going to be all right. She broke her ankle, and they have to set it—that’s all. That’s why Dave said not to hurry. We don’t need you two to get into an accident too, now do we?”
“No.”
“All right. Be careful, and we’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Dwight,” I said. “We’re on our way.”
I jotted a message on a sticky note saying: Had to close early. Sorry for the inconvenience. I grabbed my purse, put the message on the front door, and told Max that we’d keep her posted.
Connie, who was in her shop with Ford, spotted Zoe with her ashen face and hurried out into the hall. Ford followed.
“What’s wrong?” Connie enveloped Zoe in a hug.
“Maggie has been in a minor car accident,” I said. “I’m driving Zoe to the hospital.”
“Nothing doing.” Ford handed the box of organic tea he held to Connie. “Amanda, you’re shaking. I’ll drive you.”
“I’ll call upstairs and ask Trish to lock your office, Ford,” Connie said. “Take the tea with you.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a half-smile. “I’ll pay you—”
“Never mind that now,” she said. “Go.”
As we left, there were a few customers in Everything Paper, but I saw Ella raise her hand to her mouth. I nodded slightly, hoping I conveyed that all was well. But I didn’t really think it was, and I imagine Ella could tell that.
I took some comfort in Dwight’s assertion that he’d never lied to Zoe and that Maggie was going to be all right. But, on the other hand, he could have given her a half truth.
