Deadly Greetings Part 15

He smiled brightly. "They're a start. Listen, do you have time for a quick lesson?"

I waved his cards at him. "I suppose so. I'm always willing to learn something new."

He laughed at that. "Come on, we both know you're a lot better at this than I am. There's one thing I'm having trouble with, and I was kind of hoping you could point me in the right direction."

"I'll help if I can," I said. "What is it?"

He retrieved a Baggie from his case and held the contents out to me. "I am having a miserable time making flowers, see?"

I studied his teardrop petal flowers and was delighted that the problem was something I could help him with. "Okay, first off, your paper is too wide; a tenth of an inch is perfect for a greeting card. Another thing is that your coils are too loose. Here, let me show you." I grabbed a precut paper ribbon about eight inches long and twisted it tightly around a paper-quilling needle. I coiled the paper into a tight circle first; then I loosened it gently, allowing a little bit to uncoil at a time until I had a dimensional size I was happy with.

He said, "Okay, I was going about that the wrong way, but what do you do now? How do I get a teardrop shape for my petal?"

"Hold it in the middle," I said, demonstrating as I worked, "and pinch one end like this. After that, all you have to do is pinch the opposite side and secure it with a dab of clear glue. Make five more and you've got a flower. Oh, and don't forget to add a tight circle to the middle. Here, let me show you what I mean." I retrieved a card I made covered in teardrop flowers, and handed it to him. "It's a little gaudy, but you get the idea."

He studied it, then said, "I'll take it, along with a needle and a stack of ribbon papers. I've been cutting them myself."

"You can always do that," I said, despite the fact that I made more money off the ribbons.

"No, I want the best materials I can buy."

As I rang up his purchases, I said, "You really seem to be enjoying the process."

"It's fun," he admitted. "You should have seen my wife's reaction when I gave her an anniversary card I made myself. She couldn't believe it."

"That's great," I said, for a moment envious that I didn't have anyone in my life at the moment to make special cards for. It really did mean more when it came from the heart.

Lillian came out of the back as Daniel left. She had a smug smile on her face.

I studied her expression a few seconds, then asked, "Okay, whose canary did you just eat?"

"Jennifer, how would you like a job?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "Gee, I'm kind of busy getting my shop off the ground. What did you have in mind?"

Lillian laughed. "You're going to love this, and it won't interfere with your card-making vocation. I'm happy to report that Patrick Benson has offered to pay us to go through and sort Maggie Blake's things for the estate. We're to hold aside the valuables for her heir, then sort the rest of it for the Salvation Army, and get rid of what's left."

"How in the world did you manage to pull that cure off?" I asked, again in awe of my aunt. "There are only so many lawyers in Rebel Forge. Who else would be Maggie's executor? Once I got Patrick to admit that he was handling the will, it was very simple to convince him to hire us." I wasn't sure if I even wanted to know how she'd persuaded him to give us the a.s.signment. Still, I couldn't contain my tin grin. "So let me get this straight. Not only have you tins gotten us access to Maggie's house so we can snoop around to our hearts' content, but we're going to get fact paid for it, too?"

She nodded, that smile still present. "We do actually have to do the work, you know, but yes, I managed to secure us a small stipend for our trouble."

"When do we get started?" I asked, "I'm afraid it's going to have to be tonight. We have to be finished by this weekend. That's the only way I could get Patrick to agree to canceling the professionals he'd already hired. If you've got plans, I'm sorry, but you'll have to change them."

"Sadly, I'm free," I admitted. "How about you?"

She waved a hand in the air. "Hearts will be broken and tears will be shed, but what can I do? Patience will have to be a virtue once again. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go buy a load of boxes to make our job easier. I'll be back by closing so we can change, eat a bite, then get started."

"That sounds like a plan," I said.

Ten seconds after Lillian was gone, I regretted not closing the card shop down so I could join her. The only thing holding me back was the fact that I'd already closed the place up for Maggie's service, and I knew that if I wanted to continue operating the card shop as a business, I actually had to have my door open to the public. Working for Sara Lynn had been a wonderful apprenticeship in many ways, but I sometimes wished I hadn't acquired her work ethic. It would be marvelous to own a business I could shut down whenever I pleased, but I couldn't imagine what type of place it would have to be. Cards were my vocation and my avocation, and if I wanted to stay in business, I was going to have to be more dedicated.

After giving myself that speech, I was ready to help make the world a better place through custom-crafted greeting cards.

And of course, no one else came in for the rest of the day.

However, I did manage to make a few cards to sell and added them to my inventory. I was feeling a little sad about being alone in the shop and in my life, so I browsed through the cards my aunt made for sale. Before long I was smiling again, and I even laughed out loud a couple of times. I could make a sympathy card that would bring tears, or create a birthday card that smelled like cake and candles, but while I had a light touch of subtle humor in my cards, Lillian's were like sledgehammers. There was nothing droll or dry about them; Lillian's were little explosions on paper, and I envied her the touch. There wasn't any future in that, though. I might as well envy a pet.i.te blonde like Penny just because I happened to be a well-rounded tall brunette, but that was the path to madness. I'd embraced my physical attributes for what they were, and I'd learned to enjoy my own humor, however subtle.

That was the thing about working in an empty store all by myself. It certainly left me with plenty of time for introspection. A little of that went a long way, though. I was more interested in doing anything other than thinking about my place in the world, and I couldn't wait for closing time so I could start looking into Maggie's life.

It would be a welcome change from examining mine under the microscope.

Chapter 12.

Lillian was late, and by the time she showed up, I was sitting on the bench outside, the shop closed up for the night.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you waiting," she said. "I had a little unexpected difficulty."

"Were the boxes that hard to find?" I asked, seeing a stack of them in the backseat of her car.

She sighed, then said, "No, it wasn't that. My date was reluctant to let me cancel tonight."

I stood. "Lillian, we can always do this tomorrow, or even later tonight, if you'd like."

She said, "Nonsense, it will do him good to wait. Let's go get something to eat and then we can get started." She looked at my fancy attire, then said, "But first let's take you home to change. The one day your regular store outfit would be perfect for after hours and you show up in a dress." Lillian had changed into blue jeans, but they were nothing like my well-worn Levi's. Instead, she had a designer's name embroidered across a back pocket and sported a neat collared shirt. At least she'd abandoned her high heels for a pair of brand-new tennis shoes.

I got into the Mustang. "You're still more dressed up than I am, and I haven't even changed yet."

"Jennifer, this is as casual as I care to get. You could use a sense of . . ."

As she searched for the right word, I interrupted.

"Let's say we drop this particular conversation right now. So where would you like to eat?"

"I was thinking we could go by Hurley's," Lillian said. "I'm in the mood for a salad."

"You're always in the mood for salad," I protested. "How about The Lunch Box instead?"

"Surely you're kidding. I'm not going to let Savannah see me like this. She'd never let me hear the end of it."

"You look great," I said, "and you know it."

Lillian started the car. "The only way I'll agree to a The Lunch Box is if you get our food to go."

"Fine," I said. "But I still think you're overreacting."

It Lillian quickly pulled up in front of my place. "And I'll ask you to tend to your own knitting. Why don't d I wait here while you change?"

"You don't want to come upstairs and say h.e.l.lo to my roommates?" I asked. While Lillian had made her peace with Oggie and Nash, they weren't the best of friends. I thought it had more to do with Lillian's choice of perfumes-they invariably made Oggie sneeze-but Lillian claimed it was deeper than that. "Thank you, but I've got a few telephone calls to make while you're changing," she said as she pulled out her cell phone. "Thank you, but I've got a few telephone calls to make while you're changing," she said as she pulled out her cell phone.

"Coward," I called out as I hurried inside. To my surprise, Jeffrey Wallace's door was open when I walked into the foyer.

"Jennifer, I was hoping to speak to you," he said, still dressed in the same clothes he'd worn to the service.

My first reaction was to blow on past him, because I really wanted to start digging into Maggie's life, but I caught myself. Wasn't that what this could be, if I just played it right?

"Fine," I said, stepping into his apartment before he had the chance to meet me in the hallway. Jeffrey looked at me, then the door, and finally decided to close it behind us. Could he be afraid of being alone with me? I couldn't see how, though I was taller than him and would admit-only under oath or at gunpoint-that I probably outweighed him too.

"That was an abrupt exit you made today," I said bluntly. There wasn't time to dance around the issue, and besides, I couldn't help wondering if a more direct approach than I'd been taking up to now might be more helpful.

"It was a pitiful excuse for a memorial," he said, slumping down into a nearby chair. On a table beside it, I saw a photograph of Maggie. Whoever had snapped it had captured her essence, as far as I was concerned. The laughter was on her lips, and in her eyes as well. I reached over and picked it up. "This is remarkable. Did you take it?"

"I did," he said. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but Maggie and I were special friends."

"I heard," I said, wanting to add that I'd heard they'd been a lot more than that, but I didn't know how to do it delicately.

Jeffrey said, "Why am I not surprised? There's not much that goes on in this town that everyone doesn't know about two seconds after it happens."

He reached for the photograph, but I took a step back. "Jeffrey, is there any way I could get a copy of this?"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of my hands. "Why on earth would you want one?"

I shrugged. "I lost her too, and this is the way I'd like to remember her. It's exactly how I'll picture her from now on."

Jeffrey offered it to me. "Keep it. I've got others."

"I couldn't," I said. "I'd just like a copy."

He pushed it on me. "I insist. Jennifer, your request just now was more of a memorial than she had out there on the lawn. Can you imagine such nonsense?"

I had to ask. I just had to. "Jeffrey, when's the last time you saw her? I'm not asking for alibis, just memories."

He looked at me a moment, then said, "So you think it's murder too?"

That surprised me. "What makes you say that?"

"Come, Jennifer, I haven't known you long, but you J seem fairly intelligent. What is the police's theory, that Maggie fell asleep driving and missed her turn? In the middle of the afternoon? I don't think so." He'd certainly captured my attention.

"So what do you think really happened?"

Jeffrey stood and paced around the room. "Don't you think I've been tearing my hair out trying to figure that out? Maggie was a special woman, the most alive person I ever knew. When she agreed to pursue a relationship with me, a man twenty years her senior, I actually tried to talk her out of it! Can you imagine that? I didn't want to hold her back, but she'd have none of it. Three months might not seem like a long time, but it was the best part of my life, those days I had with her."

Though there wasn't a single tear on his face, I could tell he was destroyed inside, fighting to keep hold of his emotions. There was only one thing I could say after hearing that. "Okay, I admit it. I'm trying to discover what happened to her. You're right; I don't believe it was an accident, either. Jeffrey, did she send you a card in the mail?"

"Are you kidding me? She sent dozens. Maggie loved making them, and they were great fun to get. Follow me."

We walked into a room that turned out to be a spare bedroom. On a card table, I saw quite a fewest handcrafted cards, all with Maggie's distinct touch. Beside me, he said, "She had a real knack for it, didn't she?"

"No doubt about it," I said. "Do you happen to remember the last one she sent you?"

He frowned, scratched his chin a second, then grabbed one and handed it to me. Maggie had added a few real oak and maple leaves to the front, their stems crossed like swords. They were pressed under contact paper, and I knew they'd stay like that forever. I opened the card, and saw in Maggie's distinct script, "I'd Fall for You All Over Again."

"This was the last one? You're sure?"

He nodded, then took it from me and placed it back on the table in his makeshift shrine. "Why are you so adamant about it?"

Should I tell him about the other messages from the grave, and let him know that she'd skipped him? What purpose would it serve, to break his heart for no reason? I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

"I just wondered about it," I said.

I wasn't absolutely certain he bought it, but if he didn't, it was pretty obvious he was going to let it slide. "So why do you think anyone would kill her?" I asked.

He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. Believe me, I haven't been able to think about anything else."

The poor man looked as if the tears were about to fly. I had to change the subject, and quickly, if I was going to get anything else out of him. "How did you two happen to meet?"

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "It's ironic, but Frances introduced us. They were best friends, and I happened to run into them outside one day. I was smitten with Maggie instantly; she had that effect on me from the start. I asked Frances to introduce us formally, and I started courting her soon after."

"Tell me a little about Frances," I said, trying to acquire more information that might prove to me one way or the other if the two friends' deaths could be related.

"She was gruff, stubborn, a real pain at times," Jeffrey said, contradicting his word choices with a great amount of love in his voice. "We were cut from the cloth, so it was natural that we became friends the second day she moved into Whispering Oak."

"I heard she was rich," I said.

Jeffrey snorted. "Hardly. Her parents were-I knew that-but Frances lived on a pretty modest pension from them. When they died, they left her a rock, a pair of doorstops, a batch of other worthless things and a note chastising her for her choices in life. From what I understand, the rock was symbolic of their entire relationship."

"So if she didn't get their money when they died, do you know who did?"

He laughed. "Anyone who knew Frances was well aware of that. There's a trust fund set up now in Rebel Forge for neutering stray cats and dogs, and from the lit size of the account, there won't be an unwanted pet in this entire part of Virginia. She thought it was a wonderful idea, and never made a squawk about not getting anything from them." So that ruled out money as the reason for her death.

"Did she have any enemies that you knew of?"

"Frances? She had scores of them. As I said, she as wasn't an easy woman to get along with." He paused, oil then added, "Jennifer, I thought you were looking into Maggie's death. Why the sudden interest in Frances?" I started to stammer out some lame excuse when he said, "It's pretty obvious, isn't it? Forget I asked, as It's perfectly natural for you to want to find out what an happened to the woman who once lived in your apartment." He led me out of the bedroom and to the door. "Listen, if there's anything I can do to help you to in your investigation, I trust you won't hesitate to call on me. Day or night, I mean it."

"Thanks," I said at the door. "I just might take you up on that."

"Please do," he urged me.

Barrett must have come out of his apartment at the sound of my voice. He'd been listening to the last bill of my conversation with Jeffrey, but how much had he really heard? He stared at me cryptically a few moments, then said, "It didn't take you long to make friends, did it?"

"I respond well to civil behavior," I said as I turned my back to him and hurried upstairs to my apartment. After I changed into my most comfortable pair of jeans and an old shirt, I decided to feed my roommates before I left, just in case I didn't get back until late. If they noticed the change in their dining schedule, neither one of them commented on it.