Grand Prize: Murder!

“Hey.” Bob’s tanned index finger circled the name Bella Brookes. “I thought she was hiding away from the public. Bit of an eccentric recluse.”

Vicky was surprised. Bella might be eccentric, but a recluse? “Where did you get that idea?”

He shrugged. “Must be mistaking her for somebody else. A trip to London, huh?” He whistled. “That’s some prize. I bet Aunt Em would love to see Buckingham Palace, take tea in some fancy tea parlor there. What kind of contest is it? Geocaching? I’ve always wanted to do that. Wouldn’t she be surprised if I took her to London for her birthday in October.”

Vicky smiled at his enthusiasm. “It could be geocaching for all I know. Bella Brookes hasn’t revealed all the details yet, but she will do so at the book signing on Saturday afternoon. We did announce the signing in advance of course under regional activities, but the chance to win tickets to London is a later addition, so some extra posters seemed like a good idea.”

“For sure.” Bob put the master copy in place and pushed buttons on the control panel. “This is for the paper size. Letter. Here we have black and white or full-color. Full-color it is. That should do it. Just one at first to see how it looks, hey.”

The machine began to hum. Bob smiled at her. “You think I could participate in this hunt?”

“Everybody can who is not involved with my store. Because we’re organizing it, we’re legally excluded from participation.”

“Ah. That’s too bad. But then again you lived there for years so you know it all, I bet.”

“Right.” Back in the UK, when traveling around and seeing lots of people, it had always been Vicky’s favorite game to guess what people did for a living. There was always something that gave them away. Bob here for example looked like an athlete with a broad chest and muscled arms, but he also liked to explain things. He was patient and enthusiastic. Coupled with a long summer vacation, it was a no-brainer.

He had to be a teacher. Phys ed.

Bob said, “Why don’t I give you a hand getting these spread around?”

Without waiting for a response, he walked away and stuck his head round the door leading into the back area. “Aunt Em, I’m off. Will be back in an hour.”

A voice said something in reply that Vicky couldn’t make out. Bob waved a hand. “Later, OK?”

He turned to her. “I’ll do the stores in town and then take my car to the north, put them up at restaurants, gas stations, hotels and campsites. You take the south, OK?”

Vicky smiled again. He was thinking up places to put the posters that she hadn’t even considered herself. And with his natural charm he’d talk anybody into allowing a poster to be put up on the announcement board or the front window. “Great. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem.” He held her gaze a moment longer, his eyes lighting with a special warmth.

Vicky knew that a lot of little old ladies were a little enamored with Bob, who was always so nice. She supposed it was just his way of handling people and it didn’t mean anything. He probably had no idea how many hearts he had already broken with that winning smile.

Armed with her stack of posters, Vicky returned to the Country Gift Shop to find a familiar customer browsing the rack that held silk scarves from an artist on Jersey. Coco had come over and was sniffing around the customer’s exclusive stiletto heels.

Even in a simple summer dress Lilian Rowland exuded class and money. She had styled her platinum blonde bob with a light wave to look like a twenties’ hairdo. The only things missing were a string of pearls and a headband with a feather. Obviously Lilian was already in the roaring twenties mood for her upcoming party on Friday night.

Lilian smiled and returned the scarf with the magnolias she had been examining to the rack. “Congratulations on your new sign. It looks very stylish. Sorry that I couldn’t be here when it was offered. I intended to, but my appointment with the architect about some changes to our home ran a little late.”

Vicky glanced at Marge, who was fighting laughter, it seemed. Lilian already had a house to drool over, but she kept hiring people to change things about it, to the frustration of her husband, Deke, who thought it all a waste of money.

Lilian said, “But I did want to drop by and give you this.” She opened her purse and pulled something out. Coco stared up at her in concentration, expecting a treat.

Lilian handed Vicky a baby blue envelope with golden decoration along the edges, then turned to Marge to hand her an identical one. She then held a third in the air. “I’d like to invite you both to my roaring twenties’ party if you can bring Bella Brookes along. I know it’s short notice, but Bella will love my theme. The twenties were also the golden age of crime fiction, right? I’d love to hear what her favorite Agatha Christie story is.”

Vicky couldn’t remember having seen any books in Lilian’s house when she had visited with Michael and Diane. But in such a large house Lilian probably had a separate library.

Maybe even with a movable ladder?

Something like that was Vicky’s secret dream.

Would Lilian show off the library to Bella Brookes if she did come to the party on Friday?

Marge said to Lilian, “I never knew you liked Agatha Christie.”

Lilian made an eloquent hand gesture. “Doesn’t everyone? I do hope you can bring Bella Brookes. Her presence will lend such a nice touch to the party. I only hope the weather will be better than it has been for the past few days. It’s always raining at night. But we have room to move inside if need be. I read somewhere that Bella Brookes adores tropical flowers so she must take a look at my orchids.”

Left in Lilian’s personal care, the orchids would probably be dead quickly, Vicky guessed. The socialite’s French manicured hands weren’t made to dig into the earth, or even handle a sprinkling can. And orchids were fussy about their treatment. Too much water could be fatal in a flash. But she said, “Bella will be delighted to see your conservatory if she’s still free on Friday night. I’ll give your invitation to her and she’ll let you know, I’m sure.”

“Wonderful. Got to dash. See you all Friday night.” And Lilian was gone, leaving just the lingering scent of her expensive perfume. Coco seemed to realize the chance for a treat was gone and returned to Claire with her head down.

Vicky clutched the envelopes, glancing at Marge.

Marge glanced back, then burst out laughing. “That look on your face. Just like Coco’s.”

“Well,” Vicky said, “do I feel happy or insulted? It’s obvious Lilian only wants Bella Brookes as special star at her party and is just using us as the channels through which she manages to reel her in. She blatantly ignored Ms. Tennings and my mother, as if they weren’t even here.”

“She could hardly explain she wasn’t inviting them,” Marge said. “Lilian likes to maintain an exclusive guest list. She only included us because of Bella.”

“Exactly.” Vicky grimaced. “Perhaps we should have said we had other engagements already?”

“Are you crazy? Miss the chance to see her award-winning home? The place is probably loaded with valuables.”

Claire nodded. She lowered her voice. “My friends told me that Lilian even hires a security firm.”

Ms. Tennings added, “To mingle discreetly among the guests and keep an eye out for misplaced items.”

Vicky stared at them. “Lilian thinks guests are going to steal at her parties?”

Claire nodded violently and said, “Sometime ago a jade statuette vanished after a party. Lilian never reported the theft to the police because she was worried her friends would be questioned and hate her for it. They don’t want anything to do with the law.”

She made big eyes. “Maybe whoever took the statuette will be back for more?”

“Whatever. I’m going.” Marge clutched the invitation to her chest. “I just have to figure out what to wear. Buy or rent, that’s the question. I have to get Kev into a tux too.”

Claire studied Vicky. “Who are you taking?”

“Taking?” Vicky echoed.

“Yes, it’s an invite for you and a partner, I suppose.”

Vicky cringed that her mother would suggest possible men to take along. “I don’t need a partner to take me. I attended lots of parties in the UK on my own.”

“That was work. This is social,” Claire insisted. “And you do have to dance with somebody.”

Marge bowed to an imaginary figure. “This dance? Delighted.” She whirled round the store, jerking her elbows in and out. “This is the Charleston, right?”

Vicky laughed. “I think you need to look up the moves before Friday.”

Mr. Pug ran over to Marge and circled her, barking. Marge leaned down to pick him up and twirled with him, humming a waltz.

Then she froze mid-dance and focused on Vicky. “You need that hat.”

“What hat?” Vicky asked.

“Ms. Tennings has a friend who is a hat designer. She showed me some pictures last week and there was a hat in there just perfect for your profile.”

Marge looked at Ms. Tennings. “Too bad you don’t have the album on you now. But wait. It may be on her website, right?”

Marge put Mr. Pug down and pulled out her cell phone. She swiped across the screen.

Mr. Pug stared up at her as if he wanted to know what she was so busy with all of a sudden.

Vicky was still puzzled by her earlier remark. “My profile? What about that?”

“It’s mysterious,” Marge said in an exaggerated whisper.

And Ms. Tennings added, “With one of my friend’s creations you will be the party’s sensation.”

Vicky took a step back. “I don’t want to stand out.”

“Nonsense,” Ms. Tennings said, “you need a night off without worries.”

And Marge added, “Leave it all to me. I’ll get you the hat.”

Claire piped up, “And I’ll get you a date if you want me to.”

Vicky hurried to say, “No thanks, Mom.”

Claire folded her arms across her chest. “How are you going to get to the Rowland mansion then? On your bike in a tight dress?”

“Very funny, Mom.” Vicky pursed her lips. A car of her own was on her list of things to consider, but right now her budget was too tight to allow for one. “I’ll call a cab. Simple as that.”

“Here it is,” Marge said. “Have a look.” She held out her phone to Vicky.

The hat was a close-fitting model of soft material with a butterfly attached to the right side. One wing lay on the hat, while the other stood out. The material used for that was very delicate, almost see-through, and it sparkled under the light.

“Let me see it,” Claire urged.

Vicky offered the phone to her.

Claire hmm-ed. “You have a dress that can go with it. The coral one I saw in the photos you showed me of the midsummer gala?”

Vicky was surprised her mother even remembered that.

Ms. Tennings said, “All you need is a few long necklaces to complete the look.”

“And elbow-length gloves,” Claire supplied.

“I have some,” Vicky said, resigning herself to the inevitable. Once her mother or Marge got something in their heads, it had to happen. And now that they were all joining forces, it was impossible to resist.

“How about your hair?” Ms. Tennings asked.

Vicky looked from one to the other. “Enough already. I can do my own hair. And my makeup. I don’t like a fuss.”

“All right then.” Marge clapped her hands together and studied Vicky with the adoration of a mother watching her daughter on prom night. “You just let me handle the hat. Friday night you’ll have the time of your life.”

Chapter Four

In front of her long hallway mirror that was in an appropriate art deco style, Vicky adjusted her brand-new hat just a touch. The color was perfect with her coral dress. Two long necklaces that she had found on the bottom of her jewelry box completed the twenties’ look. For makeup she had focused on highlighting her eyes with some golden tints and her lips with some shine.

A knock at the front door announced the arrival of her mystery driver for the night. She was curious whom Marge had managed to find for that. It couldn’t be Bob. Lilian Rowland would never invite him to one of her parties. Only the ultra-stylish or the ultra-rich got in with her.

And those who happened to be able to bring famous authors of course.

Shaking her head to herself that she had fallen for this ploy, Vicky opened the door.

On the well-worn step in front, his dark hair crowned by some dangling climbing roses, was Michael Danning. His tan was much deeper than Vicky had expected after a stay in Denmark. In black tie he looked even smarter than usual. He smiled at her and reached out his hand, holding a single white rose. “A corsage for you to wear. I heard it was quite the thing in the twenties.”

“I thought you were still in Copenhagen.” Thrown off balance by his sudden appearance, Vicky accepted the corsage and took her time attaching it to her dress. Her thoughts raced. She had looked forward to Michael’s return, to hear all about his trip and tell him about the store and Bella’s visit to town, but now that he was suddenly in front of her, her head was painfully empty. All the engaging and witty things to say seemed out of reach.

“And I had hoped you’d be happy to see me back in town.” Michael’s voice was teasing, but his expression was tight. “Of course I should have attended the ceremony where you got your sign and…”

Vicky cut off his apology quickly. “It wasn’t a ceremony really, more of an informal affair. I don’t like being the center of attention anyway, so it’s not a problem.”

She checked the corsage and then reached for her purse on the hall sideboard. “All done. Shall we go then?”

“Allow me.” Michael offered her his arm and escorted her to his car. It shone as if he had especially waxed it for the occasion.

“Marge told me what color your dress was,” he confided. “I figured she’d know. I didn’t want to get you a pink rose and then find it clashed with your dress color. It’s a good thing you got Marge to help you with the store and all. Else I’d think you were working too hard for it.”

He opened the car door for her and made a gallant bow.

“Thank you.” Vicky lowered herself into the car seat, careful not to crease her dress. Looking up at him, she said, “I thought you believed in hard work.”

Michael held her gaze as he said, “I do, but it can be too much sometimes.”

Before Vicky could pick up on this remark to probe how he was doing now that Celine was officially pronounced dead, Michael broke eye contact and closed the car door. He rounded the car to get in on his side.

As he started the engine, music began to play. Classical. A piano piece. A prelude by Chopin, one of her favorites.

Had Marge also told Michael that?

Apparently the whole night was set up as a luxury treatment for her. She’d better enjoy every second of it.

Michael said, “So there is going to be a scavenger hunt starting tomorrow. First thing I saw when I drove to town from the airport. The posters were everywhere.”

Vicky shot him an amused glance. “Thanks for exaggerating my success. We printed off around thirty.”

Michael looked over his shoulder to back out of her driveway. “Must be more. I counted at least ten on my way over here.”

“Oh. How odd.” Vicky glanced down to ensure the seat belt was not messing with her dress. “Maybe Bob didn’t have time to drive around and he all put them closely together? Well, never mind. As long as we have a reasonable turnout at the signing, I will be happy. Mostly for Bella’s sake. She is used to bigger events, I suppose. I don’t want her visit here to be a complete letdown.”

“You do know she’s under attack?”

The quiet question plopped like a stone into a pond. Vicky sat up, echoing, “Attack? How do you mean?”

“So you don’t know.” Michael’s hands tightened on the wheel. “At a book signing in spring some disturbed fan threw something at her.”

Vicky stared at Michael’s profile. “Are you sure it was her? I don’t remember reading anything about it in the newspapers.”

Her thoughts raced to make sense of the revelation. “Was Bella hurt? Did they get this person who did it? Is he in jail now?”

“I don’t think so. They don’t even know for sure if it was a man or a woman. Naturally when something was thrown across the room, panic broke out, and people were screaming and pushing each other. In the commotion he or she got away. Who knows where that disturbed fan is now? Whether he or she is still obsessed with Bella? With getting to her and hurting her?”

Vicky frowned. She hadn’t known about this and wasn’t happy to learn her guest author had been under attack, but it could have been an isolated incident. If there was a serious security issue, the PR people would have taken it up with Bella, she supposed.

Of course there had been the odd Mr. Giverny snooping around Bella’s door.

And Bella’s own insistence that she didn’t want to stay in a hotel…

Bella had explained it by referring to all the packing and unpacking, the beds that might not be comfy. That was a good enough reason.

But what if she avoided hotels because she felt vulnerable there, exposed? A hotel room could easily be broken into. Several people, such as cleaning personnel, had keys to the room. In an apartment on the other hand she’d be relatively safe.

In the meantime Michael said, “I just don’t like you getting involved with someone who has been under attack. Just a few weeks ago you might have been hurt when—” He didn’t finish the sentence.

Vicky took a deep breath. On a fun night like this she didn’t want to be reminded of her confrontation with Celine’s killer. That had been a surreal experience, something that only happened once in your life.

Those events surrounding the final resolution of Celine’s disappearance case had left them all a bit jumpy. They could be reading more into small things than was needed. Her thought for instance that Giverny’s mustache had come from a theater kit was pretty ludicrous. Yes, he had been a pushy person, but why assume he was changing his appearance? She had to stick to facts instead of jumping to conclusions.

She tried to sound certain when she said, “Nothing happened then, and nothing will happen now. Look, Bella didn’t tell me she’s under attack. I’m sure she would have mentioned security if it had been an issue for her. But she was really cheerful when we met. The incident at the signing happened some time ago, you say, and we have no way of knowing what really happened. Perhaps the person responsible is very sorry for what he or she did. And why assume someone would follow her all the way out here?”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. “You’re probably right. I just wanted to see if you knew about it. And I’ll come to the book signing tomorrow to keep an eye out for anything odd. People behaving out of the ordinary. OK?”

“That would make me feel much better. Thanks.” Vicky touched his arm a moment.

He looked at her and smiled.

The joy that he was back in town now hit her full force. She could count on Michael and her other friends to help her make Bella’s visit into a success.

As they arrived at the Rowland mansion, the grounds were ablaze with lanterns hung from trees and on lines extended from one tree to another. Expensive cars drove down the long driveway, and guests stepped out in front of the majestic house, all its tall windows alight.

There were hired valets to park the cars in designated places further away from the house. Vicky bet there would be a million dollars’ worth parked there for the night. No wonder Lilian engaged a security firm on such occasions.

On the terrace people stood talking, waiters mingling with trays full of champagne glasses. Vicky went inside on Michael’s arm.

Lilian stood at the foot of the broad carpeted stairs to greet everybody who came in. She was just talking to a tall man in a smart tuxedo, and when he half turned, Vicky recognized Cash Rowland. He looked very different than he did in his usual sheriff’s uniform.

Cash saw her as well and came over, smiling. “You look great. New hat? I didn’t bother getting anything special for the night. I still had this lying around from a wedding where I was best man.” He cast a quick look at Michael, then offered to get Vicky a drink.

Michael stepped back graciously. “I have to greet the hostess and ask her a few questions about the party, the guest list. Who is that guy by her side anyway? He looks around him like he owns the place.”

Cash grimaced. “That’s Lilian’s brother Sydney. He’s a lot younger and a bit on the wild side, even though Lilian will never admit that. He tried different colleges, didn’t fit in anywhere, then he tried different jobs that dear Daddy set him up in. All tanked as well. Of course it’s always somebody else’s fault, never his.”

Michael pursed his lips. “Sounds just like you back when we were in college.”

Cash turned red. “Not at all. I…”

Michael raised a hand, focusing on Vicky. “I will be back later. Save a dance for me, huh?” With a wink he walked away.

“Busy for the Gazette’s social column?” Cash chided. He took a deep breath, speaking low to Vicky, “Trust me when I say I know all about Sydney Haverton. Deke wasn’t amused when Lilian told him her brother had lost a job again and had to be set up with a position at Rowland Investment for the time being.”

Vicky hitched a brow. “Sydney is working in Deke’s company now? Just like that?”

“Working is a big word. Seems he doesn’t turn up when he should, misses meetings and in general behaves like he’s in charge while he has no idea about investments. But Deke can never say no to Lilian. He has to put up with Sydney, in the firm and here. Dear Sydney moved in, you know, for as long as he’s working at the company. Deke is mining all of his contacts to get Sydney a job elsewhere and be rid of him again. So far no luck.”

“Vicky!” Marge came up to her in an electric blue dress. With a matching fascinator on her red curls it looked stunning on her. The bright color enhanced the fire in her hair, and it looked as if she had just walked off a twenties’ painting.

Marge turned around slowly so Vicky could admire the dress’s waterfall back. Then Marge whispered in her ear, “You look amazing. How did Michael like it?”

“OK, I think. He didn’t really say. We talked about Bella and the book signing on the way over.”

Marge clicked her tongue and put a hand on her arm. “No talk about work tonight, OK? We’re here to have fun. Have you had champagne yet?”

“Cash is getting me some.”

Beside Marge, Kevin Fisher fidgeted uncomfortably in his tuxedo, running a finger round his collar. Like it was too tight. But every time he looked at his wife, his expression changed to pure adoration. Vicky figured that if anyone ever looked at her like that, she’d know it was true love.

Voices resounded behind them, and they turned to see Bella Brookes arrive. She wore a tight wine red dress that set off her blonde hair. The bodice was embroidered with intricate silver patterns. Her face was shadowed by a gigantic asymmetric hat in wine red and black, and she held a large fan in her hand of painted silk with an edge of peacock feathers.

The sum total was stunning.

People stood and stared while Bella walked by, nodding to all sides and then greeting the hostess.

Even Lilian lost her usual cool and stammered and flushed, then directed her guest of honor to the champagne.

Vicky grinned at Cash, who had just come back with glasses for the both of them. “I think Lilian already got what she wanted tonight. Bella is turning heads.”

“She’s pretty,” Cash said casually, “but a little too showy for me. Unreal. Like she should be on display at a museum.”

Bella came over to Vicky and Marge and introduced her party. A handsome man in an expensive suit was the PR mastermind Paul DuBree. He had a tall blonde woman on his arm. The woman was not introduced. Her dress was rather short and adorned with many silvery tassels that moved as she walked.