“—that required some—ahem—major skin-on-skin contact.” Orbra refilled the teacups on the table. “The way she talks, you’d think it happened every day. No one’s hit on her since Gilda first came to town, and that was, what, ten years ago? Twelve? You don’t give off a lesbian vibe at all, Cherry,dear.”
“Fifteen, as a matter of fact. Soooo…Declan was over? When?” Cherry grabbed a teacup from a nearby table so Orbra could pour a cup for herniece.
“Yesterday,” Leslie told them. Then she went on to tell them everything. Even the part about the ghost and the gale-force winds. She figured she might as well—they’d badger her until she did anyway. Plus, maybe that would get them off hercase.
“And then after he left, look what I found inside the broken stair.” She pulled a tissue-wrapped article out of her bag and unwrappedit.
“Is this the other glove? Matching the one you found before?” Cherry asked, takingit.
“Yes. It’s the same length, and the buttons are the same—see, they’re those little round brass ones with tiny floral designs stamped on them. I was taking it over for Gilda to look at, but her shop isclosed.”
“She’s sick today—she called me this morning because it was her turn to bring the refreshments to the Chamber of Commerce meeting and wanted me to sub for her. Figured I could bring something from the tea shop, I suppose. Hate those damned meetings—at the butt-white crack of dawn they are. Six-thirty!‘So we get the business out of the way so we don’t miss our own business,’ is what Regina always says.” Orbra shook her head with disgust. “I was gonna skip myself, but then I had to go since Gilda asked me. Regina wasn’t there either—she’s in Chicago at an auction for one of her clients who wants some Frank Lloyd Wright piece she made sure to tell me about”—Orbra rolled her eyes—“and Trib left early to meet a produce truck. And Aaron never comes, and so that just left me, Emily Delton—who didn’t look very happy, and now I know why—Jinny from KnickKnack Clothes, the ladies from the B&Bs on Fourth, and Mildred, and Cherry. Oh, and Baxter. What’s the reason for the damned meetings if no one comes, I want toknow?”
“I was there. For the whole thing,” Cherry saidprimly.
“That’s because you get up at the crack of dawn every day anyway to do your meditations and star and planet salutations and green smoothies,” Orbra grumbled. “And now I’m hurting for lemon tarts and blueberry scones because I had to bring a bunch to the meeting where no one showed up and I can’t serve them to anyone elsenow.”
“I’msoglad I mentioned it,” Leslie said, suddenly glad Orbra didn’t have a walking stick like Maxine Took. That would be really frightening. She exchanged amused glances with her aunt, who grinned and shook herhead.
“Incidentally, the scones were delicious,” Cherry said brightly. “What are you going to do with theleftovers?”
Orbra huffed and grumbled. “Probably serve them to annoying people like you two. And maybe Declan, because he’s smokinghot.”
“So you wanted to see if Gilda could date that glove to see if it was from around the time of Dorothy Duchene, is that it?” Cherry asked Leslie, picking it upagain.
“Yes. And at this point, I’m pretty sure the glove definitely belonged to our ghost. I guess the issue is whether we’re right that it’s Dorothy Duchene. She—it—was pretty—er—adamant when we started talking about whether she’d been pushed down the stairs, and focusing on that specific step. I just…have a feeling those gloves belonged to her. And so did the wrap. And both of them were stolen.Why?”
Cherry was examining the glove, turning it inside out, looking at the buttons and seams, then put it on the table. “There’s no tag, though you can see where it was cut away. Probably scratched her skin so she got rid of it. The material’s not nylon. It feels like a cotton blend, maybe with some rayon, and the stitching is definitely from a machine. It’s long—past the elbow, so it would go with an evening gown or dress. Not dayclothes.”
“Right. All of which doesn’t really help much—though it doesn’t preclude it from being from the 1920s. They used some machine stitchingthen.”
“But would Dorothy Duchene have been wearing long gloves if she was a servant? On what occasion would she have done so? Surely a servant wouldn’t be invited to any sort of formal gathering,” Orbra said, surprising aunt andniece.
“That’s a very good point,” Leslie replied, sitting up straight, her eyes wide and her mind working. “I hadn’t thought ofthat.”
“Guess I’m good for something. S’pose I better get ready for the lunch rush, such as it is.” Orbra got up, grumbling under herbreath.
“Geesh. What’s up withher?”
“Shereallyhates getting up in the morning. Simple as that. It’ll put her off all day. And Bill’s been on a long haul, so he’s been gone for two weeks already,” Cherry said. Orbra’s husband was a truck driver, a fact that she alternately rejoiced over and grumbledabout.
Just then, the bell over the door jingled and in swept Maxine Took and her ever-present walking stick, along with her constant companions Juanita and Bruce Banner. They were trailed by Iva, whose blue eyes began to sparkle as soon as she sawLeslie.
But it was Maxine’s other companion, whose arm had been commandeered by the old crone’s talon-like grip, that surprised Leslie. John Fischer looked a little like a kitten who’d been captured by its five-year-old owner and was being toted around and shownoff.
“Oh good, you’re here! I was going to ask Orbra if she had any updates on the ghost, but here you are in person,” said Iva, sweeping over to sit at the table with Leslie and Cherry. “And look who Maxine and Juanita ran into as they walked by the Sunflower this morning.” She beamed at thewriter.
John looked at Leslie with bald desperation. She took pity on him and sat back down at the table. Maybe she’d be able to help him extricate himself from the busybodyladies.
She could consider that her good deed for theday.
Leslie was immediately forced into retelling her story about the glove—though she didn’t go into quite as much detail about the ghost as she’d done earlier—as Orbra brought out tea and scones for everyone. She seemed in a slightly better mood, and Leslie noticed with an inward smile that the small plates were filled with lemon and blueberry scones.Way to go,Orbry.
Maxine was in the middle of interrogating Cherry about the difference between Pilates and tai chi (pretty much everything) when the bell over the door tinkledagain.
Leslie looked over and a surge of pleasure—and warmth—rushed over her. Her cheeks got unaccountablywarm.
“Well look who the cat dragged in,” Orbra said with a very pleased smile. “Have a seat here, Declan. I’ve got some nice lemon and blueberry scones, just hot and fresh from the oven.” She glanced at Leslie and Cherry as if to forestall any dissenting comments fromthem.
