Designs On Murder Page 5

  “Honey, you don’t have to do everything these people tell you to do,” Frank said to me. “Connie is a nice woman and all, but she has some peculiar notions.”

  I studied on my answer. I didn’t want to alienate the Petermans when I was just getting to know them. But I also didn’t want to be unfriendly to Connie. I had nothing pressing to do tomorrow since my shop didn’t actually open until Monday, and I wanted to attend this séance. I’d never tried to communicate with the dead—well, other than Max, and I felt she was exceptional—and I’d like to see what it was all about. Besides, if I could help catch Mark’s killer, that would be wonderful...and we’d all rest easier.

  Frank apparently took my silence as shyness and changed the subject to something he’d seen in the hardware store.

  Once Grandpa Dave and I were alone in Designs on You, I mentioned to him that Max didn’t think Mark’s spirit was here.

  “I agree with Frank about your not going along with whatever these people suggest, Pup. Not because you’re going to this séance, but because one of the people at Shops on Main might have killed Mark Tinsley.”

  { }

  Chapter Five

  G

  randpa had left over an hour ago to begin work on the shelves, and I’d stayed behind to give the place a final check. Honestly, I think I was mainly waiting around to see if Max would show up again. I hadn’t seen her since lunch. But I realized I needed to get home too. I still had four dresses to make before Monday, and I was giving up part of my day tomorrow for the séance.

  I left my tablet on the writing desk, retrieved my purse from the atelier, and made sure the door that led into the kitchen was locked. Then I left through the front door, locked it, and took a step backward.

  When I stepped back, I ran into something large and solid, and I felt myself falling. In a panic, I flailed my arms out to my sides. Two strong arms came around me and pulled me upright. I gripped one of those arms as if it were a lifeline.

  “Th-thank you.” I looked up into one of the most gorgeous faces I’d ever seen in my life. A pair of light blue eyes, a strong jawline, beautiful teeth... “Goodness.” The word escaped my lips before I’d realized it.

  “I’ll say!”

  Of all times for Max to show back up...

  “Good job!” she enthused.

  “I didn’t trip on purpose!” I protested.

  Mr. Gorgeous laughed. “I never thought you did.”

  “Right,” I said. “I’m...I’m just...kinda clumsy, and...”

  “Hush before he decides you’re an idiot,” Max said. “He thinks you’re adorable. Don’t blow it.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but then I shut it again. Whether Max was right about this man thinking I was adorable or not, she was certainly correct in her assertion that he would believe me to be an idiot.

  After more carefully weighing my words, I simply said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Actually, I’m glad we bumped into each other.” He smiled. “I’m not glad I nearly tripped you—and I sincerely apologize for that—but since we’ll be working together, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jason Logan.”

  I realized Jason Logan was still holding me against his hard chest, and I was still gripping his arm. I took a step back.

  “What’d you do that for?” Max grumbled.

  Holding out my hand, I said, “I’m Amanda Tucker.”

  Jason and I shook hands.

  “You’re opening the cigar shop?”

  “No, luckily for me, that deal fell through. I’m a professional photographer, and I’ve leased an office upstairs.” He twisted his lips in a wry grimace. “At least, I think I have. It’s the office that belonged to Mark Tinsley. I need to go up and check with Mrs. Meacham to see if it’s still all right for me to start on Monday or if I need to look for another office.”

  “Oh... I hope...” I struggled to find the words that would convey what I wanted to say without sounding like I desperately wanted us to be working in the same building. Because I desperately wanted us to be working in the same building. “I hope everything will be all right...you know, with the office.”

  “Me too.”

  “Um...you won’t be creeped out working where someone was murdered?” I asked.

  Jason smiled. “I might be. Would it be okay if I come visit your shop whenever things get too creepy upstairs?”

  “Anytime!” Max said.

  “Anytime,” I parroted.

  “Great. What do you do, Amanda?”

  “I’m a fashion designer...and I’m new here too. I just got everything moved in today.”

  “May I see your shop?”

  “Of course.” I stepped over to the door, unlocked it, and ushered him inside.

  “This is terrific!” Jason walked around the front room before walking into the atelier. “Have you ever modeled?”

  “Who? Me? No.”

  “Oh, but you could, darling,” said Max. “He’s going to make an offer, or else he wouldn’t have mentioned it. Take him up on it.”

  “You should let me take some photos of you in some of the clothes you’ve designed,” Jason said. “You could put them on your walls.”

  “Th-that would be...nice, but I’m...I’m not sure I can afford it.” Besides, I was not model material. When I thought of models, I thought of those girls who were all angles and frowns walking the runways.

  “I’ll do it for free,” he said. “It’ll be terrific publicity for me when your clients see my work.”

  “I don’t have any clients yet.”

  “But you will.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “What do you say?”

  Max sighed. “Say yes to anything he wants.”

  “Yes,” I said. Darn it! Max and I needed to have a talk about her interference! “I...I think some photographs would be great.”

  “Good. Maybe we can set it up for Saturday.”

  Before I could respond, Mrs. Meacham walked through the door. “Jason, good, I thought I heard your voice. I was going to call you, and now I don’t have to. The cleaners will be in tomorrow to...um...you know, finish tidying the space, and Monday, the office will be all yours.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Meacham. Are you sure you don’t need more time to clear everything out? I’m fine waiting, as long as it’s not too long.”

  “Oh, no, no. Everything will be shipshape for you on Monday.” She smiled at me. “I’m glad you two are getting to know each other. A fashionista and a photographer seem to go hand in hand.”

  Mrs. Meacham left, and Jason turned to me. “She’s right. So, about Saturday. Would you like to meet here at ten a.m.?”

  “Ten is good. I’ll see you then.”

  I ignored pretending-to-swoon Max as I left the shop and locked the door.

  WHEN I GOT HOME, I sat on the sofa, kicked off my shoes, and stretched out to think about Jason Logan. He was probably dating someone. Someone that hot couldn’t be single. I wished I hadn’t been so eager to take him up on his offer of a free photo shoot. But Mrs. Meacham was right—fashion and photography did go hand in hand. And the photographs could benefit Jason’s business as well as mine. Cross-promotion is always a good thing.

  Jazzy came and pounced onto my stomach. I stroked her chin, and she began to purr.

  “Once I get settled in, I’d like to take you to the shop with me,” I told her.

  She was extra attentive because she wanted to be fed. I kissed the top of her head, placed her on the floor and stood. She followed me into the kitchen where I put a can of food into her dish and refilled her water bowl.

  “I’m going to a séance tomorrow,” I said.

  Jazzy didn’t even bother to look up from her food.

  “I don’t know what the protocol is for something like that. I am going to Connie’s home, so I should take some sort of hostess gift...right?”

  Standing on my tiptoes, I took my recipe box from the top shelf. I found a recipe for coffee cake that looked good. And coffee cake seemed like a
n acceptable hostess gift, séance or not.

  As I took out my metal mixing bowl and began combining the ingredients, I wondered who else would be at the séance. Mark’s mother, for sure. Ella and Mrs. Meacham would definitely not be there. What about Janice?

  I frowned as it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Janice all day. Had she stayed at home, or had she merely been upstairs staying under the radar? That didn’t seem likely. Even though I’d only been at Shops on Main for a couple of days—and in and out then—it appeared to me that Janice made herself seen and heard when she was there. So where had she been? I made a mental note to ask Connie tomorrow morning.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I fed Jazzy, ate some toast, and headed off to Connie’s house. Connie lived about halfway between Abingdon and Winter Garden, Virginia. I passed the Down South Café on my way and thought Grandpa Dave and I should go there for lunch again soon.

  I was the first to arrive and told Connie I hoped I wasn’t too early. She assured me it was fine as she graciously accepted the coffee cake.

  “Have you had breakfast, Amanda?”

  “Yes. But go ahead and have some of the cake, if you’d like.”

  “Oh, no,” said Connie. “I had breakfast with my children. If it’s all right with you, I’ll save the cake for later.”

  “That’s fine. I just didn’t want to visit your house for the first time without bringing a hostess gift.” For the first time? Did that sound bad? Will Connie think I now expect to be invited to visit her on a regular basis? Maybe I should clarify.

  Before I could elaborate, Connie praised my strong sense of Southern hospitality. “Did your mom teach you that?”

  “No. My Grandma Jodie did. She was a stickler for good manners.”

  “She’s your Grandpa Dave’s wife?”

  “She was, yes. She passed on about five years ago.” I realized I was here to attend a séance, so I added, “Not that I want to communicate with her today or anything. I miss her, and I’d like to say hello, but not today. This is Mark’s day.”

  Connie laughed. “You’re ever so thoughtful.”

  “Thank you.” I looked around Connie’s country chic home. There were lots of distressed white tables and cabinets. A matching overstuffed sofa, love seat and chair were covered in colorful afghans and throw pillows. There was a large braided rug in the center of the floor, and some branches stood in a vase on a table near the front window. Plus, the room smelled like lemon, thanks to the aromatherapy diffuser that shared the table with the vase. “You have a beautiful place here.”

  “I appreciate that. Have you ever attended a séance before, Amanda?”

  “I haven’t. Have you?”

  “Once or twice. It’s been awhile though. I do believe that we can’t even begin to comprehend the mysteries of the universe, so I keep an open mind.”

  The doorbell sounded, and Connie went to admit Lorinda. She brought the woman back into the living room where I’d perched on the armchair.

  “Lorinda, this is Amanda Tucker. Amanda, this is Lorinda—Mark’s mother.”

  I rose and shook Lorinda’s hand. “I’m so very sorry for your loss. I saw you yesterday at Shops on Main, but we didn’t actually meet. So, it’s nice to make your acquaintance...I only wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “As do I, dear.” Lorinda smiled. “You’re quite lovely.”

  “Um...thank you.” I always felt awkward when I received a compliment.

  “You are the young woman Mark was seeing...aren’t you?” Lorinda asked.

  My eyes flew to Connie’s just as she dropped hers to the floor.

  “No. I’m sorry...I’d only met Mark once. My shop doesn’t open until Monday.”

  “Oh...I see,” said Lorinda. “Then who—?”

  Connie appeared to be relieved when the doorbell rang again. I gave Lorinda a tight smile and wondered who Mark had dated at Shops on Main. It must’ve been whoever was leasing the retail space Designs on You now occupied, since I couldn’t imagine him dating anyone I’d met there. Or maybe Mark’s mother was always harping on him about settling down, and he’d invented a girlfriend to get her off his back.

  Connie returned with Sabine, the psychic, a plump woman with auburn hair and dark eyes. Sabine wore a black t-shirt dress with a turquoise pendant, matching hoop earrings, and rings on every finger of her left hand.

  We all moved into the dining room. The distressed white furniture theme had carried over into this room as well, and there were navy and white checked cushions on the chair seats. Sabine took a large pillar candle from her tote and placed it in the center of the table.

  “Is this all of us?” I asked Connie.

  She nodded.

  “Hmm...I thought maybe Janice would be joining us.”

  Connie’s eyes widened. “No, she won’t be here.” She hurried to see if there was anything Sabine needed.

  The table was rectangular and sat six, so we arranged ourselves on the four chairs in the middle. Lorinda and Sabine sat on one side of the table, and Connie and I sat directly across from them. Sabine lit the candle, and we all joined hands. I held hands with Connie and Lorinda. I was nervous and hoped my palms weren’t sweaty.

  Sabine began to speak. “Mark...we’re here for you, Mark. We’re all here for you. Let’s speak our names so he knows who we are.”

  She nodded for Connie to begin, but Lorinda wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Mark, it’s me, your mother. Connie, Sabine, and Amanda are here too. I love you so much.” She choked on the words. “I’m sorry you’re gone. I hate that you died such a violent death, but I’m going to avenge you, my sweet boy. I miss you terribly.”

  Tears ran unchecked down Lorinda’s cheeks, and I got a bit teary myself. I’d only met Mark once, but I could certainly commiserate with a woman who’d lost someone she loved so dearly. I glanced at Connie and saw tears glistening on her cheeks as well. Only Sabine was completely focused on the task at hand.

  “Be quiet now,” she told Lorinda softly. “Don’t overwhelm him. We need to give him a moment to come through.”

  We were all silent for several seconds, and then Sabine tried once again to summon Mark. As a matter of fact, she tried a few times—and Lorinda jumped in there and helped a time or two—but no luck. Mark Tinsley didn’t make an appearance.

  “Maybe it’s good that he’s not here,” Connie suggested. “Maybe that means he’s moved on and is at peace.”

  “It didn’t work because Mark’s spirit isn’t in this house,” Lorinda said. “He’s there where his office was. And I’m going to find out whether that zoning excuse Melba Meacham gave me is a real thing or not. If it isn’t, Sabine and I will most certainly be communicating with Mark there.”

  Soon after that declaration, Lorinda and Sabine left.

  Connie looked at me and asked, “I’d like a piece of that coffee cake now. Would you care to join me?”

  “That’d be nice,” I said.

  She cut us both a slice of cake and made us a fresh pot of coffee. As the coffee brewed, she said, “I can’t imagine anything more heartbreaking than losing a child, and I want to help Lorinda any way I can. That’s why I agreed to let her hold her séance here.” She poured the coffee into cups, brought them over to the table where she’d already placed the slices of cake, and sat down opposite me. “But I can’t do anything to jeopardize my space at Shops on Main. I’ve enjoyed greater success in that location than anywhere else I’ve ever been.”

  “Maybe Lorinda can talk with Mrs. Meacham and make her understand that this is something she needs to do for her own peace of mind.”

  “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

  “Does Mrs. Meacham have children?” I asked.

  Connie nodded. “She has a son and a daughter...so you’d think she’d understand Lorinda’s desperation.”

  “Who had my space before I rented it?”

  She frowned. “A man who owned a wine shop. He wasn’t there for very long, though. And he
didn’t make an effort to get to know any of us.”

  “Huh...that surprises me. I guessed that whoever Mark was dating owned the shop.”

  “Oh, uh....no.”

  “Then who was he dating? Or was he dating anyone at Shops on Main? Was he lying to his mother about his love life to keep her off his back?”

  “No,” Connie said. “Mark was seeing Janice.”

  “Janice? From upstairs? The jewelry lady?”

  She nodded.

  “Really? But...she’s...you know...she’s old enough to be his mother.”

  “I know. Janice generally prefers dating younger men. She says they make her feel youthful.”

  “Is that why Janice didn’t come to the séance today? Was reaching out to Mark just too painful for her?”

  “It’s more that Janice didn’t want Lorinda to know about her. I doubt it was anything serious—Janice’s flings never are. But Mark had kept the relationship secret from his mother, telling Janice that Lorinda wouldn’t understand.”

  I thought that was probably an understatement, but I didn’t voice my opinion.

  “Given the fact that all three of them lived in the same town, I imagine it was difficult to be discreet,” Connie continued, “but somehow they managed. Janice confided to me that all the sneaking around was fun.”

  I sipped my coffee. “What was Mark like?”

  “At first, he came across as a real go-getter, but I think that was mostly for show. I expressed my concerns to him one day about not putting too many eggs in one basket. I mean, how much call can there be for people who only design websites these days when there are numerable options to easily design your own?” She shrugged. “But he balked at the idea of diversifying into marketing or advertising. He said he liked to program and that was it. He could be a bit...full of himself.”

  “I suppose his unwillingness to branch out was why his business was going under, and he was unable to pay his rent.”

  “I guess it was,” Connie said. “I know from experience that small business owners have to work extremely hard or else they fail.”