Part 17 (1/2)

I love Eve. She'd jump into the ocean to save me. I knew, because she'd done that when we were five.

I patted the loaded Element in the showroom. ”I want this one. It's cinnamon. Isn't it beautiful? The way its color flows from light to dark reminds me of a s.h.i.+ny bolt of sateen that changes color depending on how you move it in the light. See how the color graduates from brown to a dark antique bronze.”

”Get real. That's the lighting in the showroom. You need me, Cutler, so go look at a brochure or something while I talk money.”

I felt as if I should salute, but I wouldn't mock the hand that saved me a buck. Besides, I was used to premium Big Apple prices. Things were different in Connecticut, and Eve was certainly making it easy. No zip, no fuss.

I read a history of the Goodwin dealers.h.i.+ps on the wall while I waited. This was the second of two locations. The first, in Groton, had been started a century before. This one was practically a new baby at nearly thirty years.

Later, while I perused the brochures, I spotted Councilman McDowell behind a desk. Our eyes met, so I had no choice but to say h.e.l.lo. ”Councilman.”

”Welcome back to Mystick Falls, Ms. Cutler.”

”You know who I am?”

”From the picture in my wife's column that I get force-fed to me at breakfast.”

Right. Lolique, the Entertainment Tonight of Mystick Falls. Surprise; the publicity hound made me smile. ”I didn't know you worked here.”

He stood as I approached. ”It's worse than that. I own the place.” He indicated the chair across from his desk.

I shook my head and remained standing. ”Guess you're the in-law who has to keep the portrait of the Goodwin daughter front and center so her cousin won't inherit.”

His expression darkened like a thundercloud. Talk about black looks. ”Said cousin once spent months on the psych ward and would run this place into the ground if given half a chance.”

I stepped back from Councilman McNasty. ”I didn't mean to broach a touchy subject.”

He masked his expression like a good little politician. ”The Goodwin daughter is my dead wife.”

Remove foot from mouth. Proceed carefully. ”Forgive me. I had no idea.”

He nodded to someone across the room. ”Your friend's looking for you. Ms. Cutler,” he added, as I turned to go, ”I'm glad your building escaped the fire.”

Unexpected nicety. ”Thank you. I am, too.”

As I completed the paperwork for the car, I thought I did see our salesman's eyes fill. Eve had used math and logic to shoot down every deal, forcing him to cut his own profit to make the sale. She could make car salesmen cry.

”That was an awesome deal, Meyers. I owe you.”

”You sure do. It's root beer by the way.”

I gave her a blank look as we got in her car.

”The paint job on your Element; it's root beer.”

”b.u.mmer,” I said. ”Cinnamon's an earth element that inspires wealth. Root beer probably inspires ice cream floats.” I faced her. ”I hope the robbery and fire weren't signs, though moving in today seemed to turn my luck. An honest to grand opening almost seems possible.”

”Forget the opening and tell me about these earth elements and signs. Are you playing witch with Fiona?”

”Don't pop a st.i.tch. It's just a little folklore, which hasn't done me any good.” I sighed and bit my lip. ”You know, there's something about Goodwin's that bothers me, but I can't figure out what it is.”

Twenty-six.

To be carried by shoes, winged by them. To wear dreams on one's feet is to begin to give reality to one's dreams.

-ROGER VIVIER.

As I got ready for my welcome-home party, Sampson's conglomerate buyer called, and I hoped to get the details I'd been waiting for. By the time we finished talking money, he told me something about Broderick Sampson that I was so happy to learn, I let down my guard and admitted-maybe too soon for more information-that I'd decided not to sell.

The buyer about cried. I, on the other hand, held another puzzle piece. It didn't answer specifics about Sampson's death, but it might help me clear Tunney of the motive people were so willing to pin on him.

I still needed to solve the puzzle of the bones and find out who killed Sampson, so I intended to question everyone tonight. Was it gauche, I wondered, to use one's own coming-home party for unabashed yet clandestine sleuthing? No one would call me on it, except maybe for Werner, but he wouldn't show, not after today.

I chose squashed-heel Mary Janes upholstered in bold pink-on-black chintz, a cheeky shoe by Bennis/Edwards, and paired them with a sixties pink Betsey Johnson minidress, its long sleeves, s.h.i.+rred with elastic in three places, ending with a wrist-flare, an at-home party dress.

The muggy air curled my hair, giving it a bouncy life of its own, so I left it down. After so much time in Eve's convertible, the sun had pulled out the hint of paprika that I liked because it reminded me of my mother.

Cars arrived while I dressed, and I couldn't wait to go down. Chakra hurried me along with her meows.

The Sweets were waiting at the bottom of the back stairs, the ones closest to my bedroom.

”I'm so glad you're here,” I said as I hugged them. ”I've been dying to invite you to my grand opening ball on Halloween night.”

Chakra jumped into my arms to be dutifully petted by them.

As I related details, the younger Sweet's expression soured. ”I'm too old for that nonsense,” Ethel said.

”Well, I'm not,” Dolly, the centenarian, countered. ”I'll wear Tracy Lord's wedding dress from The Philadelphia Story.” She didn't need to say she was more than ready to see Dante again, but I noticed a new twinkle in her eyes.

I took the ladies, one on each arm, and walked them to a sofa. ”Can you do me a favor, starting tonight?” I whispered. ”Pay close attention to any gossip about Suzanne Sampson and anybody named Isobel.”

Dolly trembled in excitement as she agreed, while Ethel shook her head at us. I got them each a plate from the buffet before I went to meet the rest of my guests.

”Aunt Fiona,” I said. ”Thank you, again, for today. I already thanked Dad, but I know you must have worked hard coordinating.”

”Sherry and Justin stayed in the apartment above my garage and handed out boxes to move. That's why I knew when they arrived that they had the last of it. Frankly,” Aunt Fiona added, ”it's given your father and I something to talk about.”

”Are you going to invite him to the Circle of Spirit ball?”

”Invite Harry to a witch ball? I'd rather chew gla.s.s.”

”I'll invite him, though I might not mention the Circle of Spirit. It's my grand opening, and he's my business partner, of sorts, so he won't say no to me. He might even dance with you.”

”Don't bet on it.”