Part 11 (2/2)
”You mean the dress she wore to your sister Sherry's wedding?” Aunt Fiona asked. ”Dolly told me that she was planning to go and meet Dante in it. I was afraid she'd die right there at the wedding.”
”So was I,” I admitted. ”I was never so happy to see someone leave.”
I watched Aunt Fiona go to the kitchen and her offer registered. ”You'd be bringing me customers! I'm as thrilled about that as I am about helping you and having lights upstairs.”
”The place is huge,” she said, putting a cinnamon bun down in front of me. ”Your sewing corner won't bother us. And if you're worried about us touching anything, we could put up screens.”
I inhaled the bun. ”We'll have to move fast. As soon as the police clear out?”
”The circle is ready if you are.”
I applauded. ”As for the ball, I'm more excited for Dolly than I am for myself, even though it'll be a great opportunity to show off my shop. I'd love to get some of my outfits on mannequins, however bare the downstairs might still be at that point, so people who come to the ball can get an idea of what I plan for Vintage Magic. And I'd like to furnish the lounge area leading to the dressing rooms before then, too. Come shopping with me this week?”
”Sure. Can we rent your ballroom?”
”Of course. Call me superwoman. I can get it done. Have you already advertised the ball?”
”Yes, so we have to do a big media splash and fast to tell everyone that we're having it at Vintage Magic now, instead, as part of your grand opening.”
I shot to my feet. ”My grand opening. However the downstairs looks, I'll actually have one because of you.” I hugged her. ”You're a G.o.dsend.”
”A G.o.ddess-send. And don't celebrate too soon. You have a lot of work to do.”
”Starting with returning my rental and buying a new car, and in between, I have to set up shop and clear Tunney's name. Two murders in such a short time. What is this world coming to?”
”Two?” she asked.
”Sure. Sampson and the bones.”
”The bones, of course,” Aunt Fiona said. ”A young woman, according to Detective Werner.”
”I don't know enough about her yet to talk about it, even to you, Aunt Fiona”-except maybe her name, I thought-”but I intend to start looking.”
”You know that you can talk it through with me when you get some vibes, right?”
I found myself pacing again. ”I have to find the last person who saw Tunney at the market last night and anybody who might have seen him run over to the playhouse. Obviously the time each event occurred is key-Sampson's death, the fire, and my burglary. What time does Tunney close on Fridays?”
”Around the time the fire started.”
Eighteen.
I design to hit people at a gut level; to capture the soul and raw beauty of people and nature.
-LINDA LOUDERMILK ”Can you stand it?” I asked Werner as we stood in the parking lot of Vintage Magic. ”Twelve days before my grand opening and there's yellow crime scene tape across my front door? And look, more donation boxes from our neighbors.”
”Our neighbors are well-intentioned,” Werner said. ”And the crime scene crew will be out of here before the day is over.”
”The day nearly is over. I slept through most of it. Hey, aren't you tired?”
”I got a few hours,” he said. ”Not as many as you-”
”I'll stop whining. I'm being selfish. Look at our beautiful old playhouse. What a loss to the community and its historic profile.”
Werner and I crossed my parking lot to take a closer look.
Sampson's building smoldered still, half a wall standing, firefighters sifting through the rubble.
Councilman McDowell, the publicity hound, was giving a TV news interview, using the grisly scene as a backdrop.
”He'd hang around at the dump,” I muttered, ”if a reporter and camera crew were due to show up. Leave it to him to cash in on a tragedy. Was the fire set?”
Werner jiggled the change in his pocket. ”We found ac celerant on the curtains the first time, and on the bones the second time.”
My stomach lurched again. Why did I believe the bones belonged to Isobel? I didn't know any Isobel. ”What about Tunney?”
”Prime suspect. I questioned him last night and let him go, so no arrest. Yet.”
”Thank you.”
”Don't. I do my job, whatever it calls for.”
I nodded. ”Have you seen any sign of Vinney Carnevale since all this happened?”
”We're checking trains, buses, planes.”
”This is the first time you've answered my questions about a case without biting my head off.”
”Let's call it a trade for your hypothetical scenario.”
”What scenario did I hypothesize?”
”In a roundabout way, you said that the first fire might have been set as a diversion to get you out of your building so someone could get into your storage room.”
”If I said that, I didn't hear myself.”
He shrugged. ”Good detective work, Ms. Cutler.”
Ms. Cutler. ”About last night-”
”Never happened,” he said. ”I'm a gentleman, believe it or not, and gentlemen don't tell.”
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