Читать книгу Claws of Death - Linda Reilly - Страница 11

Chapter 2

The door to the white clapboard building that housed the Whisker Jog Historical Society had been propped open with a large brick. Painted barn red, the door boasted a patriotic folk art flag hanging directly below its brass knocker.

Voices drifted from inside the building. Aunt Fran went in first, Lara trailing behind her.

Lara felt good today, pleased that she’d found a flowery yellow sundress and matching espadrilles at a price she could almost afford. The dress flared at the bottom, and was adorned with two deep but discreet pockets. She’d splurged and bought the ensemble, dressing it up with the chunky gold necklace her aunt had bought at a yard sale a few months earlier. She’d tucked her cell in one of the pockets—just in case she wanted to snap a few celebrity pics.

“I’ve never been in here,” Lara said, gazing around the large entrance that had once served as a meeting room for the townspeople. In one corner, a portable air conditioner struggled to pump out enough chilled air to cool the surrounding area.

“The reception must be in the main room,” Aunt Fran said. “Since we’re early, why don’t you browse here for a bit. Some of the town’s artifacts are quite interesting. I’ll head to the back to see if anyone needs help setting things up.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll do that.”

Lara was glad to see that her aunt was walking far better than she had been before her knee-replacement surgery. And while Aunt Fran no longer used her cane, Lara knew that her right knee still troubled her. Lara looked forward to the day when both her aunt’s knees were back to normal and pain-free.

She wandered over to a large glass case that sat in the center of the room. Beneath the glass was a yellowed map of Whisker Jog, its edges brown and wrinkled. Lara peered at the handwritten paper tacked above the map. It explained how the town got its name.

Originally called Elbern’s Location, the town’s boundaries had once formed a precise rectangle. Then a local farmer had claimed that a narrow slice of land at the southwest corner was actually part of his cow pasture in the adjacent county. Founder Josiah Elbern, the land surveyor who’d painstakingly laid out the boundaries, railed at the farmer, calling him a scoundrel and a heathen. But the farmer persisted, so Elbern brought the matter before a magistrate. To his dismay, the farmer had his ducks—or rather his deeds—in a row, and proved title to the sliver. The boundary line was changed, spoiling the perfectly rectangular town. Livid over the decision, Elbern changed the town’s name to Whisker Jog, deeming the jog in the new boundary line a debauchery created by a sliver of land the “breadth of a cat’s whisker.”

Lara grinned at the story. How had she never known that?

“Lara?”

The familiar voice came from behind her. She turned to see Chris Newman, a local accountant who’d recently taken over as editor of the town’s weekly paper, the Whisker Gazette.

“Hey, Chris, how’s it going?”

Wearing a short-sleeved red shirt over a pair of khaki shorts, Chris shrugged. He held up his camera. “Not bad. I’m covering this little soiree for the paper. How are things at the shelter?”

“Great. And thanks for getting the word out. Those weekly plugs have brought in a lot of donations.”

“Happy to do it,” he said.

The voices in the main room rose to a swell. “I think her car just pulled in!” someone squealed.

“Deanna must have arrived,” Lara said, hearing the excitement in her own voice. “Excuse me, Chris, but I need to catch up with Aunt Fran.”

He nodded and waved, and Lara hurried toward the main room. Three long tables covered in lavender linen formed a horseshoe of sorts at the rear of the room. In the center table, three china teapots sat on a silver tray. Delicate and fancy, each teapot was pale pink with a golden spout, the finial at the top shaped like a butterfly.

Twenty or so eager-looking people, most of whom were women, milled about the room. According to Deanna, each of the historical society members had been permitted to bring a spouse or a guest.

The main room evidently had central air, but in Lara’s opinion it could have been ten degrees cooler. She spied Aunt Fran chatting with a sixtysomething woman in a garish orange muumuu. Her aunt spotted her and motioned her over.

“Lara, this is Joy Renfield. She owns a tea shop in Moultonborough, and she also reads tealeaves.”

The woman, whose graying hair stuck out from a wide purple headband, shook Lara’s hand briskly. “I’ve been following Ms. Daltry’s career for a long time, so I volunteered to supply the teas for this reception. If you enjoy them, and I’m sure you will, I hope you’ll visit my shop one of these days. It’s right on the main drag, in a little strip mall. I also do psychic readings, if you go for that sort of thing. May I give you a coupon for a free reading?”

Lara felt bombarded by the woman’s enthusiasm. “Um, yes, sure, that would be great.”

She knew that her aunt didn’t put much faith in psychics, but Lara had always enjoyed having her tarot cards read. The predictions had always been somewhat generic, but it was fun believing someone might be able to see into her future.

Joy whipped out a pink card from her cross-body leather wallet and gave it to Lara. “I’ll be looking for you, okay?”

“You bet. I’ll try to get there soon.” Lara took the card and slipped it into one of her deep pockets.

Voices around them rose. The actress was walking in their direction.

“Here’s Deanna now,” Aunt Fran said brightly. She tugged her niece’s arm. “Nice meeting you, Joy.”

Joy whirled toward the commotion as if someone had announced the arrival of the Queen of England. Her eyes glittered, and a wide smile split her somewhat plain face. “Oh my, it really is her. And she’s on time,” she added in a near whisper. “Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.” She turned and bolted.

Lara pulled her gaze from Joy’s retreating form and greeted Deanna. “Thanks again for inviting us,” Lara said quietly.

“My pleasure,” Deanna breathed, taking Lara’s hand. Her face was made up to perfection, her silver hair framing her delicate cheekbones in stylish wisps. Wearing a teal wraparound dress that highlighted her trim figure, she leaned closer and murmured in Lara’s ear. “I understand you’ve approved my application. Can you bring the kittens to my place tomorrow?”

“To your place? Oh, absolutely. We’d be honored.”

Lara had checked out Deanna’s references, one of whom was a well-known celebrity who’d nearly made her swoon. She’d stammered over her words, feeling like a silly star chaser. The man had been genial and kind, even if Lara had sounded like a giggling groupie.

Deanna nodded, and then moved on to give Aunt Fran a firm hug. “You’ll come along as well, Fran, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Aunt Fran said.

A stout woman came up behind Deanna, almost bumping into her. Her brunette hair was worn in a style reminiscent of the 1980s, a bit too large for Lara’s taste. She wore a shiny gold dress that strained slightly at the bust, divulging some serious cleavage. An engraved name tag pinned to one shoulder identified her as “Evelyn Conley, Special Member.” Lara wondered what made her more special than the regular members.

“Deanna,” the woman said in a slithery voice, “I think it’s time I gave my announcement welcoming you to our lovely town. After that you can mingle and chat with all the Ladies’ Association members.”

“Nice to see you again, Evelyn,” Aunt Fran said.

Evelyn’s eyes popped wide open. “Oh. I— Do I know you?”

“Your granddaughter, Trista, was in my class the year before last.”

“Oh, yes. I remember you now. Didn’t someone say you quit teaching?”

“Only for this past year,” Aunt Fran said. “I plan to return in the fall.”

Evelyn flashed her a weak smile. “Well, that’s…nice. Deanna, we really need to get moving. Come with me and I’ll introduce you. Not that you need an introduction,” she added coyly, slipping her arm through the actress’s. “I still can’t believe that I, your biggest fan ever, am right here with you in my own hometown!”

Deanna winked at Lara, then followed Evelyn’s lead. The two stood before the center table, blocking the view of the teapots.

Joy had returned. She came up quietly to stand beside Lara. She gave Evelyn a dark look. “I didn’t even get to say hello to Deanna,” she grumbled. “And I’m the one who supplied the teas free of charge.”

“Don’t worry,” Aunt Fran said kindly. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to meet Deanna in a bit.”

Evelyn’s booming voice made up for the lack of a microphone. Her glossy, cherry-tinted lips moved in exaggerated fashion, as if she’d rehearsed her spiel. After introducing herself, she gave a rousing welcome to Deanna. The guests tittered and clapped, waving their smartphones in the air to capture the moment.

Deanna spoke only a few words. She thanked everyone for the warm welcome but said she would prefer to greet each guest personally. She said nothing about having lived in the area as a child. In Lara’s view, Deanna was the truly gracious woman she’d always thought her to be.

“I’d like to say one last thing,” Deanna said. “I recently adopted two kittens from the High Cliff Shelter here in town. The owners, Fran and Lara, are two of the most delightful women I’ve ever met. They’re completely devoted to their feline charges. For the remainder of the month, I’m offering to pay the adoption fee for anyone wishing to adopt from their shelter—subject to their approval of your application, of course.”

Murmurs filtered through the crowd, and several people clapped. A woman standing behind Lara bleated, “Application? For a cat? How silly is that?”

Aunt Fran turned and graced the woman with a radiant smile. The woman flushed and pretended to search for something in her handbag.

After Deanna concluded her speech, she began mingling with the guests. Evelyn swiveled toward a rear doorway and snapped her fingers. Two teenage boys wearing starched white jackets appeared, each holding a sizeable tray of goodies. At Evelyn’s nod, they began moving through the room, offering delectable-looking delicacies to the guests.

Lara plucked a round of sliced baguette topped with smoked salmon from the tray. She sampled a bite and said, “Aunt Fran, try this one. It’s to die for.”

Her aunt smiled. “I don’t want to go that far, but I’ll take your advice.” She tasted the canape and nodded. “I agree, but I’m more interested in those mini-cheesecakes that other young man is offering.”

“I’m going to amble around, see if I can drum up some goodwill for the shelter,” Lara said.

“Good plan.”

Lara strolled among the guests, nodding and making pleasantries with anyone who offered a friendly smile. A few people asked her about the cats, and she willingly gave a plug to the shelter.

Chris Newman, camera in hand, moved around the edges of the room, snapping pictures. Lara was giving him a tiny wave when a thin, seventyish man with thick white hair and droopy-looking eyes slipped into the room. The man flicked his gaze around, as if unsure if he should join the party. He appeared to be searching for someone.

Lara stepped back slightly and watched him. Dressed in a navy jacket over beige chinos, he wore a nervous expression as he moved farther into the room. All at once, his face froze.

He was looking directly at Deanna.

Wiping his hands on his jacket, he edged through the guests toward the actress. Something about his demeanor made Lara uncomfortable. Not that he looked dangerous or anything. More like jittery or anxious.

Deanna stood in front of the middle table, her hands clasped at her waist. She chatted amiably with an elderly woman and her much younger companion, a man with a brush cut and a freakishly wide smile. Behind the table, Joy Renfield fussed with the teapots. As guests strolled up to her, she poured cups of steaming tea into china mugs.

The newcomer approached Deanna, but before he reached her Evelyn bustled over and touched the elbow of his jacket. “Sir, I’m afraid this is a private event. Are you here with one of the members?”

The man’s face turned a mottled red. “Members? Uh, no—sorry, I’m not, but I was told it was okay for me to be here. I just wanted to say hi to Deen…um, Deanna.”

“As does the rest of the world,” Evelyn said, her smile pleasant but firm. “I’m sorry, but this event is sponsored by the Ladies’ Association, and it’s by invitation only. You need to—”

“It’s all right, Evelyn. I know this person.” Deanna’s voice was silky soft. “How are you, Don? It’s been a long time.”

Evelyn’s mouth opened. “I see. Well, then, I apologize. Please help yourself to refreshments,” she told the man and then hurried off to chat up another guest.

The man’s eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“It’s been a long time,” Deanna repeated, her smile cautious.

At that point, Lara felt like an eavesdropper. Whatever was going on between the two, the man’s tone made it clear that it was intensely private. She moved closer to Joy. “May I sample one of the teas?” she asked.

Joy nodded and lifted a teapot adorned with tiny yellow daisies. She poured some into a china mug and handed it to Lara. “This one’s blueberry with a hint of lemon.”

Lara sipped carefully from the steaming mug. The tea was the perfect temperature—not too hot, not too cold. The fruity flavor lingered on her tongue. “Wow, Joy, this is delicious. Just right for a summer day.”

Joy’s eyes lit up, then flickered sideways. “Thank you. In my experience, not many people appreciate specialty teas.”

“There’s nothing more to say, Don,” Lara heard Deanna say in a rising voice. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

“But—”

“Please, Don. You need to go. We’ll talk about this another time, okay? I promise.” Deanna’s voice sounded shaky, sending a wave of unease through Lara.

By then the man had attracted some attention. Evelyn, never far from the actress, had apparently heard Deanna’s plea. She stormed over and hooked one pudgy hand around the interloper’s elbow. “I’ll see you out through the back,” she said, her tone making it clear it would be pointless to argue.

The man’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Red-faced, he allowed Evelyn to escort him out through a rear exit, but not before attempting to press a business card into Deanna’s hand. It fluttered to the floor, landing under the center table.

Murmurs rose through the room like the buzz of a beehive. “Who was that? Is he famous?” Lara heard someone say.

Joy, teapot in hand, exchanged concerned frowns with Lara. She set down the pot, then bent and retrieved the business card. She stared at it for a moment, then came around the side of the table and gave it to Deanna. “Miss Daltry, are you all right? You look a little pale.” She rubbed her beringed hand over the actress’s arm in a soothing gesture. “How about some nice blueberry-lemon tea?”

Trembling, Deanna clutched the business card tightly in her fingers. “Thank you. That would be lovely...Joy, is it?”

Joy beamed. “Yes, that’s right. Would you like your tea sweetened with a touch of local honey?”

“Thank you, that sounds heavenly,” Deanna said. “But first you’ll need to excuse me for a moment, okay?” She touched Joy’s hand lightly, then turned to Lara. “Lara, may I trouble you for a favor?”

“Of course you can,” Lara said.

She followed Deanna through a rear doorway. When they reached a back room that served as the historical society’s small kitchen, Deanna made a beeline for one of the wooden cupboards above the chipped porcelain sink. “Evelyn said my purse would be safe here, but with all these people milling about I’d feel better if it were locked in my car. Would you mind taking it out to my car for me?” She reached up and opened the cupboard door. An elegant lavender clutch sat on a top shelf. Deanna reached for it but her fingertips couldn’t quite grab onto it.

“Let me help,” Lara said. “I’m a few inches taller.”

She retrieved the purse and gave it to Deanna. Deanna opened the latch. She pulled out her keychain, a dainty square of burnished brass engraved with a lavender rose. In the next instant she cried out sharply. The purse flew from her hands. Two fat earthworms tumbled out and plopped, wriggling, onto the floor.

Lara grabbed a paper towel from the holder on the counter. She scooped up the squirming creatures, opened the back door, and hurried out into the parking lot. She found a grassy area adjacent to the blacktop and dumped out the worms. A mild shiver skimmed down her arms. Normally worms didn’t bother Lara—she knew they were beneficial to the environment.

But someone had intended to frighten Deanna.

She went back inside, threw the paper towel in the waste can, and washed her hands in the sink. Deanna stood gawking at her, her face pale. The keychain rested on the counter next to the sink. “Did you get rid of them?”

“Yes, I found a grassy spot and dumped them.”

Deanna shuddered. She was still clutching the business card she’d intended to shove inside her purse. Lara tried to read the name on the card, but all she saw was “Donald” and something that began with W-A. She thought she spied the image of a car in the lower corner.

“Deanna, are you all right?” Lara asked. “Do you want some water?”

Deanna shook her head, then forced out a laugh. “Lara, do you remember the old seventies horror movie about the giant earthworms that ravaged a seaside town?”

“Sorry, I don’t,” Lara admitted. It had to be way, way before her time.

A bit of color had returned to Deanna’s face. “It was one of my first movie roles. I played the sheriff’s niece. In the end, a giant worm devoured me whole.” She shook her head. “I was so young when I made that silly movie. When you’re a newbie in show biz, you take any parts you can get, even if they’re horrible.”

Lara smiled. Where was she going with this?

“All I’m saying is that whoever put those worms in my purse obviously remembered the film and thought it would be funny. It was a prank, nothing more. Believe me, it’s not the first time something like this has happened.”

“Yeah, but it was a mean thing to do.” Lara wasn’t willing to dismiss it so easily. “Do you think that man could’ve done it?” She slid her gaze toward the card Deanna was still holding.

Deanna flashed her trademark smile, but her eyes held a touch of worry. “You mean my uninvited guest? No, that wouldn’t be his style at all.”

“Is he someone local?” Lara asked.

“Let’s just say he’s someone I knew when I was a teen. I have no idea where he lives now.”

From her odd tone, Lara suspected the man had been a boyfriend. She also figured he was the “worm man,” even if Deanna didn’t agree. Still, she knew it was risky to jump to conclusions.

“Deanna,” Lara asked, “other than Evelyn, who else might have seen you stick your purse in that cupboard?”

The actress shrugged. “Frankly, I’m not sure I could narrow it down. I arrived here right on time, so the kitchen was busy by then. Those two waiters were scuttling in and out of the kitchen. Evelyn kept barking orders at them. Some of the Ladies’ Association members came in through the kitchen door. They’re apparently familiar with the layout. I saw one of them slide a covered tray into the fridge.”

Lara blew out a sigh. No shortage of potential culprits.

It had been foolhardy for Deanna, with her celebrity status, to tuck her purse into a cupboard in view of other people. Evelyn Conley should have advised against it instead of urging her to do it.

Deanna looked calmer now. She touched Lara’s arm. “Lara, would you mind taking my purse to my car and putting it in the trunk?” She grimaced at the keychain. “I’ll probably have to throw that away, too. It was in my purse there with those…things.”

“It so pretty,” Lara said. “Maybe you could clean it up instead of tossing it?”

Deanna frowned. “I’ll think about it. You know, I’m grateful that I didn’t trade in my vintage Mercedes before I moved here. It opens with a regular key, the way a car should. Those new keyless entry systems are too high-tech for an old gal like me.”

Lara scooped the keychain off the counter. “You’re far from old, Deanna, but I know what you mean about those new keyless systems. I drive my aunt’s old Saturn, and that’s high-tech enough for me.”

“Thank you, Lara,” Deanna said gratefully. “I’d go out myself, but I’m afraid there might be some looky-loos hanging about. You can imagine how it is.”

Lara could well imagine. Being a star came with a price, including an annoying lack of privacy.

“Happy to help,” Lara said. “The trunk, right?”

“Yes, that will be fine. And can you hold onto the key for me? I noticed you have a pocket in that adorable sundress you’re wearing.”

“Sure thing,” Lara said, warmed at the compliment. “Be right back.”

* * * *

The parking lot was jammed with cars. Deanna’s Mercedes was parked in the only shady spot—under the single carport at the rear of the building. According to Aunt Fran, the local Ladies’ Association paid a fee to hold its monthly meetings at the historical society.

Lara shot a glance over at the Saturn she shared with her aunt. It was parked near the road, adjacent to the sidewalk. They’d left the windows tightly closed, but now she wondered if she should she crack one of them open a bit. She mulled it over only for a moment. After the car’s recent servicing, the AC was in fine working order and able to cool the inside in short order.

She was heading to Deanna’s car when she spied a shaggy head peering into the back seat of the Saturn. Altering her direction, she went over and found a thin, sixtyish man with a grizzled beard gawking through the window into the back seat. Lara sidled up cautiously, halting about ten feet from the car. “May I help you with something?”

The man jumped slightly. He looked at her with a bland expression, his Red Sox shirt stained with what appeared to be chocolate ice cream. “Is there a cat in there?”

“A cat?” Lara smiled. The man had obviously spotted the emergency pet carrier they kept in the back seat in the event they came upon an animal in need of rescuing. But why was he peeking inside the Saturn in the first place? Had something drawn his attention to the car?

“No, there’s no cat in there,” Lara said. “I’d never leave a cat or any animal in a hot car.”

“Or a baby,” the man said, nodding.

“Or a baby,” Lara repeated. “Are you looking for someone?”

The man stared at her for a long moment. His eyes were a pale brown and somewhat opaque, like a swirl of milk chocolate. He shook his head mechanically. “No, I have to go now. I need more ice cream. I have money.”

With that he turned and hustled toward the sidewalk, his long legs moving swiftly in the direction of the ice cream truck parked on the next corner. Lara watched him for another minute or so. When he didn’t reappear, she shrugged and went over to Deanna’s car.

Still holding Deanna’s purse and car key, she was approaching the driver’s side of the Mercedes when she abruptly stopped short. On the window, scrawled in what seemed to be a garish-colored lipstick, were the words TIME TO PAY THE PIPER.

Lara sucked in a breath. She moved a tiny step closer to the car. Beneath the message, in the same color lipstick, was a hastily drawn symbol. To Lara it resembled a flower of some sort, sketched within the confines of a circle.

Heart pounding, Lara stepped away from the car. She slid her cell out from the deep pocket of her dress and took a quick photo of the graffiti.

After that, she turned and hurried back inside. Deanna would need to report the vandalism. She should also report the worms.

But it wasn’t the graffiti that worried Lara. It was the message itself.

Time to pay the piper.

Was it a threat? Was someone out to harm Deanna?