Perils and Lace Read online

  My heart sank. I could deal with being stood up for work, but it had better not be Carla who was causing him to cancel our date.

  “Do you know Blake Talbot?” Jason asked. “He teaches math at Winter Garden High.”

  “I don’t know Mr. Talbot, but I have heard of him.” That was putting it mildly.

  “He’s a really nice guy and was good friends with Sandra Kelly. He called me earlier and asked if we could meet for a beer.” He paused. “I’d have felt terrible had I turned him down in light of—”

  “Oh, no,” I interrupted. “You should absolutely go be with your friend.”

  “You really are the best. I’ll call you later.”

  After ending the call, I wondered why Jason hadn’t mentioned his friendship with Blake Talbot before now. Night before last, he’d only been concerned with telling Carla about Sandra Kelly’s death—he’d said nothing about reaching out to Blake Talbot. Had he reached out to Mr. Talbot? What else might Jason be keeping to himself?

  Now that I knew Jason wasn’t coming over, I changed into my pjs, made myself some pasta, poured a glass of sweet tea, and sat at the kitchen table with my laptop. An online yearbook search quickly provided a photo of Blake Talbot, who also coached the school’s golf team. The man was a far cry from the Greek god model I’d been anticipating. I mean, he wasn’t ugly, but the balding blond man with the crooked nose and lopsided smile didn’t inspire me to fantasize about running toward him on a deserted beach with my arms outstretched. Maybe he had a magnetic personality. I’d have to come up with a way to find that out for myself.

  That task completed, I set out to see what else I could learn about Max’s sister’s lineage. I started with Dot’s daughter, Maxine. Unfortunately, I didn’t get far. Little Max died from measles when she was only eight years old.

  Dwight, Dot’s son, was two years Maxine’s junior. I discovered that he began working in an auto mechanic shop at age sixteen, married Penny Sue Delp at age nineteen, and had a daughter in 1959. Dwight would’ve been twenty at the time. I teared up a bit when I saw that the name of his first child was Maxine. He and Penny had two more children—a son named after his father in 1961 and a daughter named Grace in 1963.

  Armed with this update for Max, I turned off the laptop. Refilling my tea glass, I decided that I didn’t have to forego movie night because Jason wasn’t here. I went into the living room, curled up on the sofa, and was soon joined by Jazzy—who, by the way, was a wonderful movie companion even if she did sleep through the entire thing. In fact, her soft, rhythmic snoring was so hypnotic that I dozed off too.

  When I woke up at a little past midnight, I saw that I’d missed a call from Jason at around ten-thirty. Since he hadn’t followed up with a text and it was too late at night to return his call, I decided to reach out to him in the morning. Blake Talbot must’ve had plenty to say. I hoped Jason would tell me what it was. If nothing else, maybe he could explain his friend’s relationship with Sandra Kelly.

  { }

  Chapter Seventeen

  T

  he next morning after Jazzy and I had our breakfast, I called Jason.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he answered.

  “I’m sorry I missed your call last night,” I said. “I fell asleep early.”

  “I should’ve expected as much—you’ve had an exhausting week. Would you let me make up that movie and pizza date to you this evening?”

  “Sure.” Fingers crossed I could stay awake this time. “Is Mr. Talbot all right?”

  “He’s getting there, but it’s not easy. He and Sandra had a...a complicated relationship.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said wryly.

  “Actually, it isn’t what you’ve heard.” His tone had taken on a slight edge.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  He sighed. “You’re not saying anything that everyone else in Winter Garden isn’t at least thinking.”

  “And, yet, I imagine you didn’t expect me to rush to judgment too.” I apologized again.

  “That’s okay. We’ll talk about it this evening.”

  I WAS STILL FEELING pretty rotten when Jazzy and I got to Grandpa’s house.

  “What’s the matter, Pup? You look like three rainy days.”

  As I let Jazzy out of her carrier and hung up my jacket, I explained about my canceled date with Jason because he needed to meet up with Blake Talbot and how I’d put my foot in my mouth about Talbot’s relationship with Sandra Kelly.

  “I feel like a jerk for jumping to conclusions.”

  Sitting at the table coring the apples I’d bought at the farmers’ market, Grandpa shook his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Everybody at that high school—adults and kids alike—think those two were carrying on. He might be feeding Jason a line in order to try to salvage what’s left of his reputation.”

  I washed my hands before grabbing another corer and sitting down to help with the apples. “I hadn’t thought of that. But it makes sense. With Sandra dead, he could be trying to distance himself from her, not only for the sake of his reputation but for that of his marriage.” I pressed the corer into an apple and the juice oozed out onto my fingers. “According to Ella, Mr. Talbot is the reason Sandra Kelly’s marriage broke up. In the end, Talbot chose to stay with his wife. That’s what doesn’t make sense to me—why would either of them entertain any sort of relationship whatsoever given their history?”

  He shrugged. “Could be they were moths to flames. Even if what Talbot told Jason is true—that they weren’t having an affair—they were sure spending enough time together to give folks that impression...even at the expense of some of their students’ education, if the tales are to be believed.”

  “Exactly.” I lifted the core from the center of the apple. “If they weren’t having an affair, why would Talbot risk his marriage—a marriage he’d already chosen over Sandra once?”

  “I suggest you hear Jason out, but don’t be naïve. And don’t beat yourself up.” He wagged the apple corer he held. “You’ve never been judgmental, but you’ve always been discerning. Remember that.”

  Drawing my brows together, I asked, “Don’t those two words mean the same thing?”

  “Nope. Judgmental people are mean. Discerning people see through the crap and make wise choices.” He nodded at the cored apples. “Let’s make the filling for these beauties and get them in the oven.”

  WHILE WAITING FOR JASON and Rascal to arrive, I sat at my vanity and touched up my makeup. I’d already fed Jazzy and had put her food bowl in the cabinet under the sink. I knew from the past experience of my college roommate that cat food can make dogs very sick, and I wanted Rascal to enjoy his visit.

  Jazzy lay on my bed glaring at me.

  “What?” I asked. “You seemed to have fun with Rascal the other night. I think you’d like him if you’d give him a chance. He’s really sweet.”

  She gave me a slow blink before turning her head.

  “All right, sure, he’s a little goofy...but he means well.”

  The stubborn feline refused to acknowledge I’d said anything.

  Blowing out a breath, I reminded her, “You gave Max a chance, and you love her.” And then I realized this is what my life had become—spending most of my days talking with a ghost and trying to reason with a cat. Somewhere there was a padded room with my name on it.

  I was saved from further self-analysis when Jason rang the doorbell. After kissing him hello, I led him into the kitchen. Rascal happily tagged along.

  “If you don’t mind grabbing the plates, I have a treat for Rascal,” I said.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” His smile told me he was pleased I had.

  I retrieved the chew toy and bag of bacon flavored treats I’d bought at the grocery store earlier in the week. Holding the bag up I asked, “Are these all right for him to have?”

  “Yep. They’re some of his favorites.”

  Rascal looked from one of us to the other,
almost as if we were playing a tennis match.

  I opened the bag and gave Rascal a treat. “I’ll give you another one later. Jason and I are hungry too.”

  “Mind if we eat here at the table and put the movie on hold?” Jason asked, as he put the plates and forks on the table. “I’d like to talk with you before we get engrossed in the film.”

  “Sure. That’ll be great.” I opened the refrigerator door. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Water with lemon is good for me.”

  I poured us each a glass of water and put a spritz of lemon juice in each one. “What would you like to talk about?” I asked, placing the glasses on the table and then grabbing the pitcher before sitting down.

  “Blake Talbot.” Jason looked around to see that Rascal had taken his chew toy to the rug in front of the sink. Apparently satisfied that the dog wouldn’t drive us crazy while we ate, he opened the pizza box. “I hope you like chicken alfredo on a hand-tossed crust.”

  “I love it.” I took a slice and put it onto my plate. Anxious as I was to hear what Jason had to say about Blake Talbot, I knew I needed to listen closely and choose my words even more carefully.

  Once Jason had served himself a slice of the pizza, he took a long drink of water, topped off his glass from the pitcher, and then leaned closer. “I’m sorry if I sounded harsh over the phone this morning. You’re the sweetest woman in the world, and I know you’ll give Blake the benefit of doubt once I’ve explained his situation to you.”

  “Of course.” I stuck a forkful of pizza in my mouth. It was far better to eat than to talk, especially when I had a million questions—the main one of which was why in the world would Talbot sneak around with a woman who’d already nearly cost him his marriage once before?

  “When I got to the bar, Blake had already put a couple of beers under his belt. I ordered a light brew, and we moved to a corner table where we could talk. He said he felt responsible for Sandra Kelly’s death.” He let that bombshell lie there on the table between us while he dug into his food.

  “Why would he feel that way?” I asked.

  Did Talbot believe Sandra’s ex-husband had killed her because he thought the two of them were back together? Was Sandra’s ex being questioned? After all, the police typically look at people closest to a murder victim. Like an ex. Or a current lover.

  “Talbot told me he believed the school’s bookkeeper was embezzling from various programs,” Jason said. “He’s Winter Garden High’s golf coach, and he noticed there were some discrepancies in the golf account.”

  “Did he report the discrepancies to the principal?”

  He shook his head. “He said it was only around twenty dollars, not enough to be concerned about at first.”

  “I imagine he went back and found other inconsistencies?” I asked.

  “He did, and he began noticing them going forward as well.”

  “Not to sound like a broken record, but why didn’t he report it?” I sipped my water.

  Jason tossed a bit of pizza crust to Rascal, who gobbled it up. He was afraid that without further evidence against the bookkeeper, he’d be accused of stealing the money himself and reporting it in an effort to cover his tracks. So, he turned to Sandra for help.”

  “Why in the world would the man ask the woman it was reputed he’d had an affair with to help him? Didn’t he realize that would be akin to throwing kerosene on an open flame?” I realized around that point that I should’ve stuffed another bite of pizza in my face, but I’d already blurted out the questions.

  “That’s basically what I asked him,” he said.

  “Really?” That’s good.

  “Yes. I’d heard the rumors too. Blake even admitted they’d had an affair and that the only reason he didn’t divorce his wife for Sandra was to avoid breaking his daugter’s heart.”

  “Wow. I’m surprised his wife didn’t insist on his taking a job at another school.” I cut into my pizza with the side of my fork. “Plus, it must’ve been hard for both him and Sandra to set aside their feelings and work together.”

  “He’d been looking for another job when he began to suspect the bookkeeper of embezzling. As to why he didn’t ask for help from someone else, Blake said that after his affair with Sandra last year, the rest of the staff treated them both like pariahs.”

  “And he was afraid no one else would help him,” I said. “That’s sad.”

  “Not only that, he was scared they’d be the very ones to turn the finger back toward him, implicate him in the embezzlement, and get him fired.”

  “But how was Sandra going to help? Wouldn’t the other faculty members think the two of them were in on the embezzling scheme together?” Jazzy startled me by rubbing around my ankles. I looked down and saw that she was sitting at my feet watching Rascal from a safe distance.

  “Blake thought that if they both could find evidence of embezzling, then they could go to another person—he was considering the band director because even though the man wasn’t friendly to either of them anymore, Mr. Moody wasn’t nasty to them. Plus, they felt him to be an honest man who’d take them seriously enough to at least give his accounts a closer look.”

  I frowned. “But that still doesn’t explain why Blake feels responsible for Sandra’s death. The police haven’t even officially ruled it a homicide yet, have they?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But they’ve questioned Blake, and he’s miserable because he believes that if he hadn’t gone off playing Sherlock Holmes, Sandra would still be alive.”

  “He believes the bookkeeper killed her?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t know. By the time he’d told me that much, he was pretty drunk,” he said. “I’d switched to club soda after the one beer, so I drove him home.”

  Wincing, I said, “Can’t imagine his wife was delighted when he came in sloppy drunk.”

  “I’m guessing not. He went in alone. I only waited to make sure he got inside okay before I left.”

  I squeezed his hand. “You’re a good friend.”

  “I try. Please tell me the movie you’ve chosen is funny.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s a real knee-slapper called Terms of Endearment.” At his look of horror, I laughed and told him I was only kidding.

  { }

  Chapter Eighteen

  M

  ax met me at the door on Monday morning. “What’s up, Buttercup?”

  “I’m so relieved to see you,” I said. “I wish I could give you a hug.”

  “I’m happy to see you too,” Frank said, stepping out of Everything Paper just as I’d made my proclamation to Max. “Why are you relieved, though? That seems an odd choice of words.”

  “I’m...um...relieved you’re willing to help out with the play.” I gave Frank an awkward smile as Max chortled. “I’m afraid I’m in over my head with this entire costuming situation.”

  “Now, don’t you worry.” He patted my shoulder. “You’re more capable than you know, and you have lots of help. We’re gonna put on the best play Winter Garden has ever seen.”

  “Thank you. I truly appreciate the vote of confidence.” I went on down the hall, unlocked the door, and placed my tote and Jazzy’s carrier on the floor. After I’d closed the door, I let Jazzy out of the carrier and stored my tote in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet.

  “Frank is sweet, isn’t he?” Max said, as I continued getting ready to start my workday. “He never said or did much—at, least not here—before you moved in. You and Dave have been good for him.”

  “Grandpa more than me.” I put some kibble in Jazzy’s bowl.

  “True. He didn’t have much male companionship here. Ford, as you’ve seen, stays upstairs to himself except for trips to the kitchen for coffee and snacks.”

  “Even he has taken an interest in the play,” I said, “although I don’t believe he would have if Grandpa hadn’t roped him into it.”

  She grinned. “You two have breathed new life into this place...and no one appreci
ates it more than I do.”

  “You’ve been a real blessing to us too. I’ve been wondering, would you like your own social media page?”

  Her eyes widened. “What? How? Are you kidding me?”

  “Not at all. We could set you up a free e-mail account and use it to create your social media profile. You could use the in-platform messaging system to video chat with Grandpa and me anytime you’d like.”

  “A video chat—” She squinted. “Like with the football game?”

  “Similar, but it would be private, and we could carry on a conversation. Here, I’ll show you...that is, if he’s online.” I logged onto my social media account on my phone, saw that Grandpa was indeed online, and sent a video chat request.

  When he accepted the request, his face filled my screen.

  Max gasped. “Dave!”

  “Good morning, ladies.” He raised his coffee mug in salute. “You two are obviously more awake than I am—and you both look radiant, I might add.”

  “Thank y—”

  “You can see us?” Max interrupted. “Both of us?”

  “I can. Now, I imagine if someone else was here, that person could only see Amanda.” He shrugged. “Unless they were a member of the family or otherwise...um...gifted.”

  “How absolutely marvelous!” Max clasped her hands together. “Amanda is going to get me onto social media. Once again, she’s broadening my horizons. Isn’t she wonderful?”

  “I’m partial to her.” He winked at me. “Did Jason talk with you about Talbot last night?”

  “He did.” I took a seat at the worktable and propped the phone against a pattern book.

  “What about Talbot?” Max asked. “What have I missed?”

  I quickly explained that Jason had told me Talbot and Sandra had not resumed their affair but were working together to gather evidence against the bookkeeper. “They believed Kramer was embezzling from the school.”

  “I’m sorry, Pup, but that story sounds a tad fishy to me.”

  “I’m with Dave,” Max said. “I wonder if maybe the guy was running his phonus balonus by Jason to see if anyone would buy what he’s selling.”