Perils and Lace Page 15

  “As the Holbrooks are subsidizing the costumes, they’ll be deciding what to do with them,” she said.

  I thanked her and went on to my allotted space backstage.

  Zoe was there already. “Hi.” What’s in the bag?”

  “Belle’s dress.” I removed the dress from the garment bag and hung it up.

  “Whoa...” Zoe touched the material lightly. “That’s gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is that my dress?” Kristen asked, rushing over to us. She squealed, grabbed the dress, and held it to her front. “I love it! It’s just the way we designed it.”

  “Yep.” We had worked awfully hard on this dress.

  “I’m going to try it on.” She went behind the screen we’d put up for actors’ privacy and slipped into the dress. She called to have me zip it up, and then she hurried off, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to show Connor!”

  “And there went Hurricane Kristen,” Zoe said.

  I grinned. “I’m glad she likes the dress.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I mean, I know it would be a lot easier for you to work from your shop, but—” She shrugged. “I like having you here. Mrs. Berry is so bossy and mean. It’s more fun when you’re around.”

  “Thanks. Remember, though, Mrs. Berry didn’t want Ms. Kelly’s job. And, if it weren’t for her, the play wouldn’t be happening.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You did your due diligence in not letting me gripe about the old lady.”

  Laughing, I said, “Okay. Between us, I’m glad I’m your favorite.”

  “You’re everybody’s favorite.” She looked down at her hands. “About my mom... I hope you didn’t get the wrong impression of my her.”

  I hoped I didn’t get the right impression of the woman. “I realize being a single mom can’t be easy.”

  “It’s not,” Zoe said. “Mom has a lot on her.”

  To dispel the uncomfortable silence that fell between us, I said, “I brought a portable sewing machine with me so I can work on some of the simpler costumes here. Would you like to learn how to sew?”

  “Really?” She moved closer. “You’ll teach me?”

  “Sure. You and I are going to make the candlestick costume this afternoon.”

  Kristen returned and took the dress back off so I could hang it up.

  “Put it back in the garment bag,” she said. “I’m taking it home with me.”

  I did as she asked. “Could you please have your mom give me a call? I want to talk with her about the ottoman costume.”

  “Sure. Or you could talk with her when she comes to pick me up after rehearsal.” She took the garment bag from me. “My car is getting new tires today, so Mom brought me to school.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll look forward to talking with her then.”

  “I’ll come get you and the dress before I leave.” With a wave, she was gone.

  “Have you ever met Kristen’s mom?” I asked Zoe.

  She shook her head but continued concentrating on the seam she was sewing. “I imagine she’s just an older version of Kristen.”

  Zoe was pretty much right on the money. Dr. Holbrook was very much an older version of her daughter.

  AFTER REHEARSAL, KRISTEN directed me toward her mother’s black Mercedes in the parking lot. “Mom, wait until you see my Belle dress.”

  “I can hardly wait.” Dr. Holbrook got out of the car and smiled at her daughter before turning back to me. “Thank you for your hard work.”

  “I enjoy it. Thank you for your patronage,” I said. “I wanted to ask you what you plan to do with the costumes after the play.”

  “Most of them will be donated to a local children’s theater group. Of course, we’ll hang on to Kristen’s ‘Belle’ gown. Why?”

  I explained that Frank Peterman had put quite a bit of hard work into the fabric for the ottoman costume. “I was going to buy textile fabric, but he insisted on hand painting the fabric to match the décor of the set.”

  Dr. Holbrook put an elegantly manicured hand to her chest. “How exquisite!”

  “It really is. I wondered if there would be any way we could have the ottoman costume back so it could be carefully deconstructed so Mr. Peterman can repurpose the fabric.”

  “Oh, of course, we can do that,” she said. “I realize you’re not getting paid enough for your time and expertise. Giving Mr. Peterman the ottoman is the least we can do. We’ll be happy to have you keep any of the other costumes you’re particularly attached to.”

  “No, I’m fine with the rest of them being donated.” I noticed Dr. Holbrook’s gaze shift to something behind me and turned to see Martha Talbot coming out of the school.

  “Who is that?” Dr. Holbrook asked. “She looks familiar.”

  “Her name is Martha Talbot,” I said.

  “Yeah, Mom. She’s the math teacher’s wife.”

  “Oh...right.” She arched a brow. “Now I remember seeing her before. Poor woman.”

  “You’d better believe poor woman,” Kristen said. “Mr. Talbot is the one who was having the fling with Ms. Kelly.”

  “Yes, I know.” Dr. Holbrook looked back at me. “I was going to have Sandra Kelly fired—and the math teacher as well. But now Ms. Kelly is dead, and after seeing Mrs. Talbot here helping with the play, I’m glad I didn’t have her husband dismissed. After all, poor Mrs. Talbot is suffering enough without her family losing their main source of income.” She scrunched up her face to the extent the Botox would allow. “She doesn’t work, does she?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “I’ve only spoken to her in passing.”

  Keeping my smile plastered firmly in place, I thought that if Blake Talbot knew what was good for him, he’d get out of Winter Garden High School as soon as possible. He wasn’t well-liked at the school—that was putting it mildly—and he needed to leave before someone else like Dr. Holbrook decided she didn’t care whether or not his family lost their primary source of income. Even if he had to take a job in another state, it would have to be better than working at this school.

  “Do you know Fergus Kramer?” I asked Dr. Holbrook.

  “Yes, our family has known Ferg for ages. Why?”

  “It’s just that he and Ms. Kelly appeared to be having an argument the first evening I came here about the play. I thought maybe they were disagreeing about how production funds were being allocated.”

  “I doubt that,” Dr. Holbrook said. “Sandra Kelly had nothing to do with the play’s budget. All of that is being overseen by Ferg and me. I mean, as the production’s main benefactors, my husband and I felt we should have a say in how the funds are spent.” She smiled at Kristen. “Making sure our daughter’s senior play is a success rather than looking like something the Little Rascals would throw together in a barn is crucial to her father and me.”

  “I understand completely.” Smiling at both of them, I said goodnight and went in search of Grandpa. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen to poor Kristen if there ever came a time when her parents were unable to pave the way for her.

  { }

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I

  caught up to Grandpa, who was standing with Frank and Ella by their van chatting. Martha Talbot was with them too.

  “Good news, Frank,” I said. “After the play, the ottoman costume is all yours.”

  With a broad smile, he thanked me. “That is good news.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” Martha asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll have to give that some thought.” He looked at Ella to see if she had any suggestions.

  “Maybe we can find a way to display it at Everything Paper with a photo of the actor wearing the finished costume.” She patted his arm. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I was seeing a whole new side to Frank and Ella. I wondered if perhaps his art was what had drawn her to him in the first place and then life, making a living, providing for the two of them got in the way and he drifted
away from more ambitious work. It was as if Frank’s rekindling of his artistic passion had reminded her of the man she’d fallen in love with.

  “Mrs. Berry had me ask Dr. Holbrook about the costume, since the Holbrooks are in large part funding the production.” I gave Martha a pointed look. “Dr. Holbrook said she’d known ‘Ferg’ Kramer for years and that she and her husband were keeping tabs on how the money is being allocated.”

  After explaining to Frank and Ella that Blake believes someone—most likely Mr. Kramer—is taking money from various school accounts, Martha said, “I typically take people I trust at their word and don’t follow up with them too closely. If Dr. and Judge Holbrook have been friends with Mr. Kramer for a long time, they might not be watching over his actions too judiciously.”

  “True,” I said, “but I don’t think Dr. Holbrook would be amenable to auditing the production’s books to make sure her friend isn’t embezzling.”

  Martha nodded. “I believe Blake is on a wild goose chase and that he should abandon this entire mess.”

  Although I tended to agree with her, at least, to an extent, I wisely didn’t offer my opinion on the subject.

  Driving back to his house, Grandpa warned me to tread carefully where the Holbrooks were concerned. “Kristen has already been a wonderful customer for you, and prom season hasn’t even rolled around yet this year.”

  “I know, but I don’t want Frank Kramer to continue stealing from the school.”

  “How do you know he is stealing from the school?” he asked. “You’re going on the word of someone who is trying to rebuild his reputation. What better way to do that than to take down someone else for something the school will hopefully consider worse than what Blake himself has been accused of doing?”

  “That’s an excellent point.” I paused. “But Diana Kramer, Fergus Kramer’s wife, came into Designs on You today and picked up a suit I was to hold for her until the week before Thanksgiving. She picked it up early, saying they came into a windfall.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions, Pup. I picked up some extra money this past weekend at the farmers’ market. Had I bought a suit today, would you have wondered where I got the money for it?”

  “Of course not, but—” He was right. I didn’t know where Diana Kramer got the money for the suit. “You’re right.”

  AS I DROVE HOME WITH Jazzy, I thought about what Grandpa had said earlier. The man made a lot of sense. I shouldn’t be so willing to believe what others wanted me to believe, especially not without proof. Because Blake Talbot was Jason’s friend, I’d been willing—even eager—to believe that the rumors of his current affair with Sandra Kelly had been false and that the two of them had really been trying to find evidence that either Fergus Kramer or someone else was defrauding the school.

  And even if that was truly what they’d been doing when they left their classrooms unattended, that was no excuse for their neglecting their students. By the time, I got to my house, I was upset with myself for becoming an unwitting pawn for Blake Talbot. I even felt as if I owed Fergus Kramer an apology.

  I’d never heard back from Karen of Indulgences Beauty Salon. Maybe sometime tomorrow I could go by the salon and talk with her and also make an appointment with Diana Kramer. I didn’t want highlights or lowlights, but I could let her give my hair a trim.

  MAX WASN’T AROUND WHEN I got to work the next morning, and I wondered how late she’d been online the night before. I’d been tired when I’d gotten home and had spent the evening reading a magazine article about honeybees. As interesting as it was—no, really—I’d dozed off.

  I’d intended to see if Max was online after I’d taken my bath and propped up in the bed to read, but I’d decided to read the article first. Oh, well...

  I was hoping she’d be here to tell me if she’d learned more about Dot’s family. As I worked on a mask for the clock costume, I thought about how strange it must feel to be Max. She had been alive—or, rather dead... No. She’d been around for over a century, dead longer than alive, had seen so many people come and go, and was tethered to this property.

  There was a rapid rap on the atelier door, and Connie came in. “Good morning. What are you doing?”

  I showed her the white, half-face mask and explained that it was for the clock costume. “I want to take one of these masks I bought at a party supply shop and turn it into half a clock face. I’m guessing we can use eyeliner to paint additional numbers on the actor’s face.” I handed the mask to Connie. “Here’s my dilemma. I want to be able to have moveable hands on the mask without it irritating the actor’s nose.”

  She chuckled. “That would be terrible if this mask made the kid sneeze right in the middle of the performance.” She turned the mask over to examine the back. “How was rehearsal last night?”

  “It was fine. When are the middle schoolers expected to be back?”

  “We’ll be there tomorrow night,” she said. When I groaned, she asked, “Are they that bad?”

  “No, but if the middle schoolers are there, I’m guessing Joey will be there too.” I shook my head. “As adorable as that child is, I hope he’ll either leave his ferrets at home or else bring them in something more escape-proof than his backpack.”

  “Oh, wow. I’d forgotten all about Joey’s ferrets.”

  “They made quite a splash when I measured Joey for his costume the other evening. One even wound up in Kristen Holbrook’s bra.” After we shared a laugh over that, I asked, “Do you the Holbrook family?”

  “Not terribly well, although they have a solid reputation for being the crème de la crème of Abingdon society. Why?”

  “As crazy as this sounds, I feel almost as sorry for Kristen as I do for Zoe Flannagan,” I said.

  “The stage manager?”

  I nodded. “From the little I’ve seen Dr. Holbrook interacting with her daughter, I can’t help but wonder how much of what she does is actually for Kristen rather than for herself.”

  “Both Kristen and Zoe need good adult friends they can count on,” she said. “That’s one reason so many of the students loved Sandy—they could comfortably confide in her, knowing she’d listen and that she’d always do whatever she could to help.” She sighed. “I’d better get my tea and go back to Delightful Home. If I think of anything with regard to the clock hands, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks!”

  Her comment about Sandra Kelly being such a good friend to her students made me remember what Grandpa said about people showing you what they wanted you to see. While I realized people were seldom morally black or white, I wondered which shade of gray most accurately depicted Sandra Kelly.

  AT LUNCHTIME, I PUT a note on the reception room door, locked both entrances to Designs on You, and drove to the Indulgences Beauty Salon. I had Sandra’s planner in my tote to drop off to Detective Cranston before I returned to work.

  The salon might’ve been closed or slow on Wednesday—given that no one had returned my call—but it was flourishing today. I parked and walked inside to be assailed by the mixed scents of ammonia, hairspray, and coffee.

  The stylist whose station was closest to the door said, “Hi. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but I’d like to make one.” I looked around but didn’t see Diana. “Is Karen here?”

  “I’m Karen.”

  The diminutive, cotton-haired woman in the salon chair said, “I’ll vouch for her. Karen’s the best of the bunch.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hawkins.”

  Smiling, I said, “I’m Amanda. I’m the one who left the message for you yesterday.”

  Karen frowned. “I didn’t get any messages yesterday.”

  “I left it on the machine?”

  Rolling her eyes, Karen said, “That’s not always reliable. Whoever gets here first typically gets them, and they don’t always pass the messages along. What do you need done?”

  “I actually wanted to ask you about an appointment you had last Thursday.”

  �
��I was out sick on Thursday, and the other stylists divvied up my appointments.” She scowled around the room at the other stylists before returning her attention to me. “Did somebody screw up on one of my customers? I knew I should’ve rescheduled all my appointments, but I felt too lousy to fool with it.”

  Holding up both hands, I said, “No, no! Nothing like that. In fact, I was really impressed with my friend’s hair and wondered who did it that afternoon. Sandra Kelly?”

  “I don’t know who did Sandy’s hair on Thursday, but I can probably find out for you.” She narrowed her eyes. “You saw Sandy before she died then?”

  I gulped. “We grabbed a bite to eat. I’m helping out with the play.”

  “Right.”

  “What play?” Karen’s client asked. “I enjoy plays.”

  “I think you’d like this one then,” I said. “It’s the Winter Garden High School production of Beauty and the Beast. The students are doing a wonderful job, and they’re even incorporating students from the middle school and one elementary classman for roles.” I was babbling. I needed to stop babbling. But Karen was giving me the side-eye and making me feel uncomfortable.

  “That sounds like such fun,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “Don’t you think so, Karen?”

  “Yeah. Sounds great.”

  “I’d better go. I need to get back to work.” I gave her a tight smile. “I’ll call later for an appointment.”

  Karen leveled a gaze at me that clearly said, We both know you won’t be calling.

  And she was right. Even though what I’d told her was technically true—Sandra Kelly and I did grab a bite together on Thursday—Karen was suspicious of me now and had no intention of telling me who’d seen Sandra on Thursday. Besides, I didn’t really need a trim. And when I did, I preferred to go to my usual stylist. Sorry, Diana.

  I left the building and saw Diana and Fergus Kramer in the parking lot. I waved to her before leaving.

  Upon arriving at the police station, I was informed by the desk clerk that Detective Cranston was at lunch. I asked for a notepad and a pen. The clerk pushed them across the counter to me.