Veiled in Death. Stephanie Blackmoore
you need to stop talking, too.” Pia was firm, issuing her mother a demand.
June was shocked enough to be quiet. She seemed to realize her mistake and instead sent her daughter a grateful look.
I gave the young woman a shrewd glance. She’d make a fair attorney, in addition to her event-planning skills. Her instincts to keep our facts and case close to the vest in front of Helene were savvy and sound. No one should give Helene anything that she could later use to claim the veil was hers. June clammed up for good, but not before she mouthed a silent thank-you to her daughter.
All was still under the now oppressive sun. The small crowd began to buzz again with pent-up energy. Truman once more held out his hand.
“The veil, Helene.”
The reigning queen bee of Port Quincy looked up and down the street in thought. She took in the gaggle of looky-loos and shuddered. She mounted one last attempt to keep the veil in her possession. “I think you need to keep it at headquarters, Truman, or better yet, neutral grounds.” She fluttered her thin lashes. “A place like my bank safe-deposit box. Just until this matter is cleared up.” Her plea came out in a desperate sputter.
Truman raised an eyebrow and looked irritated. He waited a beat and instead chose to laugh at her gall. “The idea that our police headquarters is not neutral is hysterical.”
Helene went for the jugular. Her icy gaze swept over me. I suppressed an incongruous shiver in the now-glaring sunlight.
“It appears we’re witnessing some regrettable, but predictable favoritism.” Helene’s spine grew ramrod straight for this speech. The crowd quieted. “Mallory here is engaged to Chief Truman’s son, as you all know.” Helene gave a pitiful and staged sigh. “I think the town of Port Quincy should know you can never get a fair shake if you go against Truman Davies’s near and dear.” She sent a sinister smile my way.
You wretched woman.
This time I felt the steadying touch of both Bev and Claudia on either arm. Their presence barely kept me from lashing out at Helene. Truman was used to such claims and better able to brush them off. He seemed genuinely amused.
“That’s so preposterous, I can’t even get riled up, Helene.” Truman almost patted her arm, then retracted at the last second as Helene recoiled and took a stumbling step back in her kitten heels.
“Don’t patronize me!”
Truman’s eyes filled with kindness. “I wouldn’t do anything of the sort, Helene. If you have an issue with what happened today, you can file a report.” But as he said it, his face took on a worried cast.
Helene shook her head, finally capitulating. “There doesn’t need to be an investigation, Truman. I know the truth now.” Her usually haughty expression dimmed belying an emotion I’d never seen her reveal.
It’s almost like she’s going to cry.
I wanted the icky twilight-zone feeling to go. Because I was feeling something I’d never felt. A genuine flash of sympathy for Helene Pierce, my mortal enemy.
Now that she couldn’t command Truman to give her the veil, the weight of defeat wilted Helene more than the intensity of the midday June sun. Her narrow shoulders sagged in capitulation. A trickle of sweat marred her carefully powdered countenance. Her lips actually puckered, the coral lipstick bleeding into her frown lines. Her dowager-empress façade frizzled in the heat. She usually looked so composed, icy, and mean.
She was still impeccably dressed; that is, if the time machine that looked like it brought Claudia back from the late 1700s made a pit stop in the 1980s and picked up Helene. But all her shoulder-padded elegance and imperiousness had wilted. Also, she bore a second expression that belied something I realized I’d never seen before, in addition to her sadness.
Helene looks downright scared.
The might and main of being the biggest mover and shaker in our little corner of the world was turned upside down. I couldn’t help but feel a smidge of compassion for the woman who had once been slated to be my mother-in-law, even though she rarely sent a speck of kindness my way.
But it was short-lived. Helene seemed to stiffen and change course.
“My business here is done. But Claudia, I’ll have you know, you will not be setting foot on that reenactment field.” Helene had lost the battle over the veil and resumed her original fight with Claudia over women participating in the mock battle at Cordials and Cannonballs.
“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try to stop me.” Claudia stepped forward and pushed her sleeves up and readied her fists.
“Over my dead body.” Helene issued her threat as a hiss, and the crowd audibly gasped. But Helene wasn’t done. “I will get you fired, Mallory Shepard, from your event-planning duties at Cordials and Cannonballs if a single woman sets foot on that field.”
I snorted at her threat. This was the Helene I was used to. I was even able to tamp down a flash of worry that Helene would get me fired. Helene hadn’t been happy I’d been appointed to do the event, but she’d played nice. Well, nice for her, which translated to icy indifference and well-timed sighs and eye rolls about my planning choices. Which was downright cordial considering our past feuds. I’d offered my event-planning services to the town at a steep discount and was happy to do it. Helene had tried to meddle with my past events, but it wouldn’t work.
Elvis the basset hound had been napping a comfortable distance from Bev. His long leash allowed him to doze in a patch of shade under a nearby store’s awning. I wished I could have snoozed during this whole show, too. Elvis chose this moment to awaken like a doggie Sleeping Beauty, execute a magnificent stretch, and settle down at Bev’s feet with a luxurious yawn.
The crowd laughed at his seeming dismissal of Helene, and I couldn’t help but join in. Maybe this was the bit of levity we needed to end this charade. The laughter seemed to snap Helene out of her funk. She stormed off without the veil, her suede kitten heels striking the sidewalk with angry force. The crowd parted around her like the Red Sea, no one eager to get in her way.
I felt the defensive energy that was racking my body flow out in a whoosh.
“That was intense.” I turned to Bev and witnessed her shoulders sag, too.
“Not what I expected after the lovely morning we’d had planning my wedding.” Bev gave a shiver.
I turned to Pia. I needed to salvage what we’d set up inside the Antique Emporium. “Are you still interested in interviewing for the assistant position tomorrow? I promise my interactions usually aren’t as fraught.”
Pia laughed, then toned down her voice to avoid the now-napping baby Miri. The little one had been surprisingly unfazed throughout this whole ordeal. The sweet baby had slipped into a blissful snooze midway. “Those were some crazy fireworks we just witnessed. We need to keep those for the festivities surrounding Founder’s Day and the Fourth of July.”
Bev’s eyes twinkled merrily. My friend seemed to have recovered somewhat from the last half hour. “Or save those fireworks for a joint wedding with me!”
I groaned at my friend once more pushing me to move up my wedding.
Truman happily took Bev’s bait. “When are you two finally tying the knot?” The few passersby laughed and finally moved along. It was the town joke apparently that the wedding planner couldn’t seal the deal on her own wedding. I thought this dramatic melee would finally get people’s minds off of my lack of a finalized date with Garrett. I sent my soon-to-be father-in-law a withering sigh and an arched brow as my answer.
Bev and Truman roared with laughter, and I found myself joining in. It was a lovely, if now too-hot day, the sky a vivid and cloudless periwinkle. The little crowd had finally completely dispersed. Pia and Miri, Claudia and June returned to their store, with firm plans for Pia to interview for the assistant’s position the next day. All was well.
For now.
I