justice. “It was long and very decorative, almost like a scarf. The brochure had a picture of Lady Ratcliffe wearing it, and there was a photo of the family house outside London. Arnold wanted me to know the history of the collar and hanky and paid extra to get the brochure.
“They cost plenty, too, but my Arnold knew what it would mean to me to have something from a family member of Princess Di’s.” She sighed and brushed the cookie bar crumbs off her lap. “I almost wish we’d never gone to the U.K. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”
She went on to explain how she’d taken the collar with her on their trip. Even though it was a collector’s item, she liked the idea of wearing it to its original home. And Arnold wanted to show off that he’d bought her something so valuable. They had even found the family house and stopped in for tea in a nearby town. Arnold had bragged to the owner that the Irish crochet collar around Pixie’s neck had belonged to Lady Ratcliffe of Palladium House. He’d even shown the owner the brochure.
“She laughed at us and said there was no Lady Ratcliffe and Palladium was the style of the house, not the name of it. Then she referred us to a shop that sold antiques. The shop owner said the collar wasn’t even real Irish crochet. He was pretty sure it was made in China. Arnold didn’t take it well. He was angry for being embarrassed and felt taken advantage of. He’d bought the items when Mrs. Brooks was still running the show, but he expected her nephew to make good on them.
“The first time Arnold went in there, Drew said absolutely no, but then out of nowhere he contacted Arnold and said he had changed his mind and if Arnold brought in the items, he’d give him a refund.”
“Didn’t that seem strange to you?” I asked.
“I didn’t think about it. I just wanted Arnold to stop being so angry. He took it way too personally.” She made another cookie bar stop and came back to the table. “When he went back, Drew gave him the refund. At least, that was what Arnold said. But when Drew turned up dead, I began to wonder. . . .” Her voice trailed off.
She took a bite of her cookie bar and swallowed it. “But then the other day Arnold said he was going to get me a real antique piece of Irish crochet. I figured he was going back to the Cottage Shoppe.”
I asked her if she still had the brochure that had come with the original items.
She said it ought to be around and went to look, but came back empty-handed. “I didn’t think Arnold took it back with the items, but maybe he did.” She shook her head a few times. “I thought I saw it in his home office.”
I asked her about the picture of the woman wearing the piece. She shrugged and said it was just a reproduction of one of those old sepia-tone photos. All she remembered was that it was very formal and the woman had her hair piled on her head and she had her arm resting on the top of an old-fashioned Victorian chair. “I’m afraid all I really looked at was the crocheted collar. It felt like reaching back in time to see it on her and then hold it in my hand. I’m sure Arnold paid more attention to her face, being an orthdontist and all. He was always checking people’s bites and commenting on how they would benefit from orthodontia.” Her face crumpled at the thought of him.
I had gotten so involved in her story I’d forgotten about the whole soup issue. She was finished with the food and also finished talking. Her worn look had come back, and I realized I was running out of time. I’d just have to confront her about the soup.
As she walked me to the door, I grabbed my chance.
“I know you were the one who got the corn chowder for Arnold.”
She blinked back some tears and appeared shocked. “I don’t know who told you that, but they’re wrong.”
CHAPTER 24
SOMETHING WAS DEFINITELY FISHY. SOMEONE wasn’t telling me the truth, but who? I rushed to the Cottage Shoppe the next morning on my way to the bookstore. I wanted to talk to Kevin personally. I figured face- to-face I’d have a better chance of figuring out whether he was telling the truth. I had to wait while he took care of a phone call and dealt with a workman, but I was finding it hard to contain my impatience. I suddenly understood Sheila’s tapping as my foot began to do it on its own while I listened to the workman ask where to put something since there wasn’t any more room in the storage unit.
“I just have a quick question,” I said, knowing I was interrupting. But Kevin gave me a dirty look and continued dealing with the workman. Who cared if he was going to get rid of a box of files in a little while so there’d be room for the boxes next to the workman?
Finally, the man walked away and I got to talk to Kevin. “Who got the soup for Dr. Bullard?” I asked.
“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” Kevin said. “Like I told Detective Gilmore, Mrs. Bullard got the soup for her husband.”
He certainly looked like he was telling the truth, but so had Pixie. They couldn’t both be right. Unless . . . “How did she order it? Did she come in and pick it up?”
“No, no. It was a phone order. Dorothy took the call. We have Mrs. Bullard’s credit card on file. Then Dorothy took it over to him.”
Maybe Kevin and Pixie both were telling the truth after all. I suddenly wanted to talk to Dorothy very badly, but she wasn’t in yet and I couldn’t wait around.
It was Milton Mindell day.
Most of our events were in the evening, but since Milton’s fans were kids, we always held his events on Saturday mornings, and no matter how hard I tried to have all the loose ends taken care of, there were always things hanging. Things Adele would try to take care of and probably mess up if I wasn’t there. I practically jogged down the street.
Kids and their parents were already lined up outside the bookstore when I arrived. Milton’s appearances were more than events, they were extravaganzas. Large posters of his latest book,
I caught sight of Adele, who looked like a beatnik mortician. She wore a midcalf black knit skirt over black- and-white-striped tights. On top she had on a long black tunic with about six strands of shiny black beads. She’d topped off her ensemble with a black beret. And she’d gone the raccoon route with her eye makeup again. She looked askance at my usual khaki slacks and white shirt. To deal with the morning chill I’d added a long black vest. “Pink, I have a cape if you want to make your outfit more event appropriate.” I didn’t have time to answer.
The event was so popular we had to give out numbered tickets for places in the tent and the guarantee of a signed book. I gave half the tickets out in advance and the rest the day of the event. The beginning of the line outside was for the people with tickets and the back section for those hoping to get one. I could tell there were already more people in the line than I had tickets remaining.
I knew when Milton arrived by the rising noise level in the line. Then the door whooshed open and he made his entrance. He was about five feet two, dressed in black, of course, with a pompadour hairstyle that had been sprayed until it wouldn’t dare quiver. He was flanked by two similarly dressed people of indeterminate sex who immediately left his side to fuss about the placement of the tent—some feng shui thing about the right energy flow.
After greeting Milton, I realized something was missing. Well, really someone. Adele. I found her hiding in the children’s section.
“Geez, he gives me the creeps,” she said. I considered telling her to stay put, but she’d already started following me, holding on to my vest.
Milton’s eye’s brightened when he saw Adele. “I like your outfit,” he said in his squeaky voice. “Maybe you want to be in the tent with me.” He reached toward Adele, but she looked totally freaked out and clung to me as I walked across the store to give out the tickets.
Dinah stopped me with the two kids in tow. “You have to give me tickets for them,” she said.
I glanced at the line outside. Several mothers figured out what was going on and gave me dirty looks. I didn’t dare hand her tickets, but I also couldn’t let my friend down. I promised to get her in the tent at the end. I expected some remark from Adele, but she was too busy being my shadow. From across the store, Milton smiled at her and
