Designs On Murder Page 3

  “But no one else here can.”

  “That’s true,” Max said. “Maybe I’m special to the Tuckers. We’ll have to look into it.” She tilted her chin. “The love of my life was a Channing. Are there any Channings in your family?”

  “My grandfather on my mother’s side,” said Grandpa Dave.

  “Wasn’t George, was it?”

  “Yes.” Grandpa’s normally robust voice sounded very small and quiet.

  Max got tears in her eyes. “I was running late to meet him the night I fell down the stairs...and died.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Grandpa whispered.

  Okay, this whole ghost thing was getting weirder by the second. Was it actually possible that Max had dated my great-great-grandfather?

  I hated to ruin a strange but sappy moment. All right, no, I didn’t hate to ruin this uncomfortable moment at all.

  “So, hey, what do you think about having a small table in front of this window with chairs on either side?” I asked.

  They both took the hint, and we started talking about decorating.

  GRANDPA AND I HAD GONE all over Abingdon, Bristol, and even Lebanon, but we’d managed to find some beautiful furniture and accessories for Designs on You. We had also talked on and off all afternoon about how strange it was that both he and I could see Max.

  I hurried to the shop the next morning to await the delivery of the round table and upholstered chairs we’d bought to go in the sitting and fitting room.

  I noticed there was some commotion on the street. There were police cars in front of Shops on Main, and one officer was directing traffic around an ambulance. I thought there must’ve been a car accident. I took the road leading to the back of the shop, so I couldn’t see exactly what had happened. I parked in the lot and went inside through the back door.

  An officer was there, and Frank and Ella were too.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “It’s Mark,” said Ella. “He’s dead.”

  “Mark...” I echoed.

  “He’s the web designer,” Frank supplied.

  “Of course. I met him yesterday. What happened to him? Was it a car accident?”

  “Someone shot him,” said Ella, “right in his office.”

  “It was actually right in his chest,” said Max.

  { }

  Chapter Three

  I

  managed to ignore Max. “Who shot Mark?”

  “Nobody knows,” said Ella. “Mrs. Meacham found him when she came in this morning.”

  “He must’ve been killed last night,” Frank said, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling as if he could see through the floorboards.

  “We need to stop standing around speculating.”

  I turned to see Mrs. Meacham approaching us. It was obvious she’d been crying. I felt I—or someone—should put an arm around her, but I barely knew the woman.

  “Everyone needs to lock up their space and leave,” she said. “I have all the keys and will stay behind with the police as they go through your shops.”

  Ella gasped. “Go through our shop! Like we’re common criminals? I won’t have it!”

  “You have no choice.” Mrs. Meacham drew herself up to her full five and a half feet and raised her chin. “Shops on Main has been declared a crime scene, and the entire building is at the investigators’ disposal. Furthermore, you will not return until the detectives give the all-clear.”

  I looked at Max, who was standing by the door with her hands on her hips.

  “Did you see who did this?” I asked her.

  “No, dear,” Mrs. Meacham said, patting me on the arm. “No one saw what happened.”

  “Neither did I,” Max said. “I’m not omnipresent, you know.”

  I merely nodded. “I don’t really have anything in my shop yet except for a few pieces of furniture, and I haven’t unlocked the door this morning. Please let me know if you need me for anything, Mrs. Meacham.”

  “I will, dear.” She gave Ella a pointed look. “Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on the investigation and let you know what I hear,” Max said. “Don’t worry.”

  “It’s hard not to worry,” I said.

  “I know it’s distressing,” Mrs. Meacham said. “This is a terrible thing to have happened. Should I call someone to come and pick you up?”

  “No. No, I’ll be all right. Thank you.”

  An authoritative male voice called from upstairs. “Mrs. Meacham, we need you up here.”

  “I have to go,” she said. “Are you sure I can’t call anyone for you, Amanda?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “She’s made of sterner stuff than you give her credit for,” Max declared, giving her head a shake that set her bob to bouncing.

  I gave Max a wan smile, and she winked. “See you soon! I’m off to see what the coppers have found.” And then she was gone.

  Grandpa Dave had been waiting for me to call about getting the rest of the furniture moved into the shop today. I called him as soon as I got into the car and told him what happened.

  “Oh, Pup, that’s awful! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” I fully considered the magnitude of the situation for the first time. “Poor Mark. I wonder if this was a random thing or if he was murdered by someone who knew him?”

  “Either way, if you’ve changed your mind and no longer want to open your shop, I’m sure Mrs. Meacham will understand and will refund your deposit.”

  “N-no. I don’t want to make any rash decisions.” I happened to consider that my opening a shop was a rash decision. “Or, you know, any more rash decisions. I’m going to wait and see what the detectives find.”

  “They won’t give out any information,” Grandpa said.

  “No, but Max will.”

  “Did you see her this morning?”

  “I did, but she didn’t witness the murder or anything.”

  He blew out a breath. “How about I come get you and take you to Luke’s for lunch in a couple of hours?”

  “That’d be nice, Grandpa.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Pup?”

  “I’m a little shook up, but I’m fine. By the way, would you mind calling the furniture store where we got the table and chairs and making other arrangements? They were supposed to be delivered this morning.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  WHEN I GOT HOME, I went into the living room, sank onto the tan overstuffed sofa, and cuddled Jazzy onto my lap. I picked up my tablet and clicked on the web browser. I thought I could maybe get my mind off Mark and his murder by seeing if I could find anything about Max online. After all, lots of newspapers had their archives on the Internet.

  I checked the Abingdon Virginian since it was the premier newspaper in Abingdon for over a hundred and fifty years. The Library of Congress had archives dating from 1849 to 1901. And, fortunately, former editor and publisher Robert Weisfeld had archived the newspaper from 1900 to 2006—the year the newspaper shut down—on a private site that included a tribute to his mother Martha, who had helmed the paper prior to her retirement.

  In searching for Maxine Englebright, I discovered that my friendly neighborhood ghost had been quite the socialite. That didn’t really surprise me even with the limited knowledge I had of her. I found a photo of Max sporting her freshly-cut bob outside a local salon, much to the apparent disapproval of her mother, who was standing off to the side, arms crossed, glaring at her daughter. I saved the photo to show Max.

  There was also a photo of Max in the midst of a group of women fervently supporting the ratification of the Nineteenth Amendment in 1920, which gave women the right to vote. Max was wearing a cloche hat and a darling skirt suit, and she was holding a glass of champagne aloft as she smiled at the camera. I leaned in closer. All the women at the rally had champagne.

  Hmm...must’ve been before Prohibition.

  I saved that photo to my tablet too. I thought
Max might get a kick out of seeing herself.

  Another article was dated after Max’s death but gave the sad news that the Englebright home was sold in 1931 after the family finally succumbed to bankruptcy from the stock market crash of 1929. I wouldn’t share that information with Max. If she wasn’t aware of her family’s financial struggle after her death, I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.

  AT LUKE’S CAFÉ, GRANDPA Dave and I settled in at our favorite table beneath a collection of Marilyn Monroe photographs. The waitress brought us menus, but we didn’t need them. I ordered the chicken salad croissant with homemade chips and a side of fruit, and Grandpa ordered the club sandwich with fries. We waited until the waitress had delivered our drinks—sodas in mason jar glasses—before discussing what had happened this morning at Shops on Main.

  I kept my voice just above a whisper. “When I got there, I thought there might have been an accident or something....you know, because of all the police cars. But then I went inside, and Frank and Ella told me that Mark was shot in his office. Max said it was in the chest.”

  People at a table near ours were also speaking in hushed tones, and I thought it was likely they were also talking about the murder. It would be foremost in just about everybody’s mind today.

  Grandpa nodded. “But Max didn’t see who did it? Doesn’t know who might’ve done it?”

  “Apparently not. And even if she did, what could I do with that information? I couldn’t very well go to the police and say, ‘My ghost friend Max said this is the person who killed Mark.’”

  “Well, no.” He sipped his soda. “You say she was going to linger near the investigators to see what she can learn?”

  “That’s what she told me.”

  “Hopefully, then, she can at least tell you whether or not they believe it was a random act or the work of someone with a grudge against the man. Either way, I don’t want you in the place by yourself.”

  “I won’t be.”

  He raised an index finger. “I know how you get when you’re caught up in your work. You lose track of everything.”

  “I know, but I’ll be careful.” I lowered my eyes to the colorfully painted table. “I won’t be in the building alone.”

  “All right.”

  Eager to push aside the thought that it might be dangerous to work in Shops on Main alone, I pulled out my tablet and located the images I’d saved. “Check out these photos I found of Max.”

  Grandpa chuckled. “She was a feisty girl, wasn’t she?”

  “Was? I believe she still is.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m going to show these to her when I go back to the shop.” I returned the tablet to my purse. “By the way, would you mind helping me design a logo for Designs on You?”

  “Designs on You? That’s what you’re calling your shop?”

  I nodded.

  “I like it!”

  The waitress returned with our food, and Grandpa Dave proudly announced that I was the new proprietress of Designs on You, a fashion boutique that would be opening up at the first of the month.

  “Wow! Where will you be located?”

  “Sh—” I stopped myself just in the nick of time. I didn’t want to mention Shops on Main today. “Main street. I’ll bring in a flyer when I’m a little closer to being ready to open.”

  “Great! I’ll look forward to it.” She nodded toward our plates. “Is there anything else I can bring you?”

  We both said no, and as she walked away, I cut my croissant in half.

  “Sorry. I kinda jumped the gun there,” said Grandpa.

  “No, you didn’t. But I didn’t want to tell her the...well, the exact location...not today.”

  “Good thinking.”

  GRANDPA DAVE HAS A terrific eye, so when we went back to my house, we both sat down with sketch pads and started doodling ideas for the Designs on You logo. Naturally, Grandpa came up with the perfect logo. It was an evening gown on a dressmaker’s mannequin—navy blue with a lighter blue accent across the shoulders and a slit up the right side—and Designs on You written in an elegant font.

  “I love it!” I said.

  “Let’s see what you came up with,” he said.

  I turned my blank page toward him, and we both laughed.

  “So now what?”

  “Now we order all the stuff.” I hurried to my bedroom to retrieve my laptop and smiled to myself when I heard him telling Jazzy he had no idea what all the stuff was.

  When I returned to the living room, and after I’d scanned his logo into the computer, I sat beside him on the sofa and showed him: business cards, postcards, garment bags, invoices, envelopes, a door sign, and a window decal. I also ordered one more dress form and a mannequin.

  “I already have two dress forms,” I explained to Grandpa, “but I know I’ll need more. And I’ll want to be able to keep one at home for when I’m working here.”

  “I understand.”

  “And I’m also going to need another machine for the shop.”

  He raised his brows. “I see why you needed so much start-up cash.”

  I laughed. “It really is a loan.”

  He waved off my assertion with a flick of his wrist, but I was determined to pay him back. I only hoped the business was successful enough to allow me to do so within a reasonable amount of time.

  “All right...do we need to go shopping for a sewing machine then?” he asked.

  “Aw...I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Grandpa.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  He simply didn’t want me to be alone today, and we both knew it. As a matter of fact, I didn’t want me to be alone either.

  “Okay, let’s do it. And, afterward, we’ll come back here and I’ll make us some dinner.”

  “And we could watch a movie,” he suggested.

  I smiled and hugged him. It was nice to have someone looking out for me.

  GRANDPA AND I DID GO and get another sewing machine along with a sewing table. We left both in the trunk of my car so I could take them inside when I returned to Shops on Main. I had to admit it would be a little spooky going back in now that I knew someone had been murdered there. I mean, Max had died there, but her death had been an accident.

  As we drove, I mentioned that I didn’t have many items for my prête a porter—or ready-to-wear—line. I had a sample of several garments I’d made for myself, but that was it.

  “Hadn’t you better remedy that?” Grandpa asked.

  “Yes, I guess I’d better. Would you mind a quick stop by the fabric store?”

  “Not at all. I’m at your disposal today.”

  Despite the fact that I’d never made a “quick” stop by the fabric store in my life, I decided I’d do my best not to linger today. As I perused the bolts of jersey fabric, a royal blue caught my eye. It brought to mind a dress I’d sketched with an A-line skirt and lace cap sleeves. I’d made the dress blue with a black-and-white polka dot panel insert on the skirt. I placed the blue in my cart and searched for the polka dot fabric. When I found it, I let out a whoop of delight.

  “Do I want to know?” Grandpa asked.

  “You’ll see,” I told him. “I’m going to make a dress using these two fabrics in five sizes and have it available to customers when the shop opens.”

  He turned his mouth down. “All righty.”

  Grandpa was right to be a little skeptical. I was supposed to open the shop in a week. But this would be an easy dress to make, and I was confident I could make five by the time I opened the shop.

  “You know, we should do some sort of open house before you actually open to the public...invite the press...that sort of thing.”

  “Normally, I’d think that was a great idea, Grandpa. But after what happened to Mark, I think it would be best to wait until later to throw a party.”

  “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I kissed his cheek and then went off to find a bolt of lace that would match my royal blue f
abric.

  As Grandpa and I were headed back home at last, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway using the car’s built-in Bluetooth device.

  “Hello, dear. It’s Melba Meacham.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Meacham. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. How are you? You seemed to be quite upset when you left this morning.”

  “Yes, well...it was a terrible shock.”

  “Indeed it was. But the police have told me that tomorrow morning, they will be out of the building and we may reenter. You are still planning on taking the space, aren’t you?”

  “Of course, I am.”

  “Good. I thought the...uh...what transpired...might have made you change your mind.”

  “No, I’m still planning to open the shop at the first of the month. As a matter of fact, I’ve ordered all my supplies and picked up an additional sewing machine.”

  “Marvelous! I’m happy to hear it.”

  “Did...did the police tell you anything else?” I asked.

  “Only that someone would be moving all of Mark’s things out of his office either tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Things...like his client files?”

  “I imagine they took those and Mark’s computer already,” said Mrs. Meacham. “I believe they were referring to having his family come in for his personal effects.”

  “Oh.” The sound emerged small and a bit strangled, and Grandpa patted my shoulder just to remind me he was near. “Th-that’s so sad.”

  “Yes. Well, dear, I have to finish contacting everyone to let them know it’s business as usual tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for calling.”

  I ended the call and glanced at Grandpa. “Gee. Business as usual.”

  “Life does go on, Pup.”

  “I know. It just seems harsh. I’d only met the man one time, but he appeared to be nice enough. I feel so sorry for his family.”

  “I’m anxious to see what Max tells us the detectives found.”

  “Us?” I asked with a wry grin.

  “Sure! There’s no way you can move your furniture in tomorrow all alone.”