For Letter or Worse Read online

  Ray smiled at the prim elderly lady. “I would love to learn a crafting trick or two from you, Mrs. Cassidy, but I’m afraid I’ve agreed to lend a hand with other activities. See you later.” And with a mock bow, he walked out of the door.

  Mrs. Cassidy shook her head, and Hazel asked, “What other activities?” She gave the door, which was left half open after Ray’s departure, a suspicious look.

  Determined not to let their afternoon be spoiled by Ray’s behavior, Delta opened the brown paper bag and breathed the inviting sweet scent of salted caramel–pecan buns. “Hmm, my favorite. Lunch first, and then to the workshop.”

  Chapter Two

  The villa lay on one of the most beautiful spots along the lakeside, overlooking the azure water with dense forest and snowcapped mountain peaks reaching up behind it. Two stone pillars, holding flowerpots with white roses, flanked a heavy gate that cut off access to the driveway. In one of the pillars, an intercom panel glinted in the sunshine.

  Delta leaned out the window of Hazel’s Mini Cooper to press the button for the intercom and report their arrival. The heavy, double wrought iron gates swung open slowly, and Hazel steered the car onto the gravel. It crunched beneath the car’s tires as they drove down a long lane, sandwiched between waist-high box hedges and, every now and then, a trimmed shrub peacock or swan. In the distance, the drive turned away to the right, where a red sports car was disappearing around the bend. Hazel glanced at Delta. “There are no crumbs on my face, right?” She licked her lower lip as if to feel for sticky leftovers from lunch.

  “No, and your hair looks perfect. Now stop fussing.”

  Hazel seemed to relax a moment until they came around the turn and saw the luxury cars parked before the villa’s double garage. “That’s a Porsche!” Hazel gasped. “And a Jaguar. I don’t want to park closely to them. What if I scratch one?”

  She passed the assembled car lovers’ dreams and parked the Mini Cooper beside a van marked Carver’s Catering. A guy in a white jacket pulled some plastic container boxes from the back and closed the door. He glanced in their direction and then carried his load around the garage.

  Hazel took a deep breath. “We shouldn’t have agreed to this. These people play roulette in Monaco, and we’re going to tell them how to glue a cutout cottage to a greeting card? I bet they never ever sent cards. Not even at Christmas. They probably have bottles of champagne delivered to their friends with a message scribbled on the label with a diamond-encrusted pen.”

  “Relax.” Delta put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Lena invited us. It was her choice. She probably enjoys doing something crafty. It reduces stress.”

  “Right now, it doesn’t,” Hazel said gloomily.

  Delta pointed. “There’s Mrs. Cassidy waiting for us.” She got out and joined the elderly lady, who stood ready to go to the house. Hazel came over with the cardboard box in her arms and whispered, “Have you seen all those cars?”

  Mrs. Cassidy nodded. “I think that gold-colored Porsche is rather tacky. I mean there must be more tasteful ways to show you have money.”

  Delta suppressed a grin, but Hazel pinched her arm. “We can’t go through the front door as if we’re guests. We’d better go around back like that catering man did.” She scurried away along the garage’s brick wall, clutching the cardboard box.

  Mrs. Cassidy shook her head, but she and Delta followed. At the back of the garage, a smooth lawn stretched away to an edge of coniferous trees in the distance. Braziers gave some welcome warmth as the October air was chilly despite the sun overhead, and white party tents had been set up at regular intervals throughout the broad expanse of grass. One was marked with a gold sign: Photo Shoot, the next: Nail Studio. “Aha.” Mrs. Cassidy pointed ahead. “I see 3-D Workshop right there.” She took the lead, striding across the immaculately cut grass.

  Passing the tent marked Nail Studio, Delta heard the clatter of glass bottles inside and subdued female voices chatting. A cupcake-decorating tent stood brightly beside it. Lena had obviously wanted to provide a variety of activities for her guests.

  Their tent was positioned close to a long table decked out with a gold damask cloth on which a few neatly wrapped boxes sat waiting. Delta assumed this was the gift table for their hostess, where the guests could put all their presents. She didn’t see Ray’s bunch of flowers, but maybe he wasn’t there yet or he had handed off the roses to the housekeeper for her to put into water right away. It would be a shame to let them wilt.

  Inside the tent, a small portable heater spread a comfortable warmth, and a white table was surrounded by six chairs. “Considering there are three of us, she doesn’t expect many participants,” Mrs. Cassidy observed. She leaned her hand on a chair’s straight back and demonstrated that it wobbled a bit on the grass.

  “Maybe she expects us to stand as we assist people,” Hazel said in a forced cheerful tone. She opened the cardboard box and began to arrange the materials on the table. Plain backgrounds, patterns to cut elements out of, glue and foam pads that were sticky on both sides and could be cut into the right size to paste elements together with a 3-D effect. Glitter pens, beads, and ribbons could provide a finishing touch.

  Mrs. Cassidy shrugged out of her long coat. “It’s warm enough in here to do without this. I’m going to find the wardrobe. Can I also take your coats?”

  Delta suspected she wanted to get inside the villa to see a bit of the house. To be honest, she was also curious how a famous interior designer would decorate his own home. But then this was one of many places where he spent time, and maybe Lena had done more on the furnishings than the big man himself.

  Sharp barking resounded outside, and Delta left the tent to see what it was. A girl of about eighteen tried to pull a big, black poodle away from a screeching woman who held a purple box overhead. Delta closed in quickly and grabbed the poodle’s collar to help tug at the strong animal. The woman with the box inched back and managed to get away, ducking into the tent marked Cupcake Decoration.

  “They are completely addicted to sweet treats,” the girl said in an apologetic tone. “It’s so bad for them. I tell Mrs. Drake, but I don’t think she really listens.” She took a deep breath and added, “Thanks for helping me.”

  “No problem.” Delta surveyed the girl’s short, electric-blue dress, which didn’t seem suitable for running around after willful dogs. The color was lovely, though, with her strawberry-blond hair, which was brushed back in a wet look, giving her a bit of a starlet air. “I’m Delta Douglas, of Wanted, the stationery shop in town.”

  “Zara Kingsley. I love notebooks. I’ve wanted to drop by your shop since I came into town. But there’s a lot to do here, especially with the party preparations. The dogs get all wild.” While speaking, Zara tugged on the collar of the poodle, who kept trying to wriggle away from her grasp.

  “Where’s the second one?” Delta asked, spying around.

  “Under the…” Zara glanced to where a bright-pink blanket rested in the grass. Empty. “No, not again. Pearl! Where are you? Pearl!” She looked at Delta. “Could you hold Emerald for me while I go find Pearl? Thanks so much.”

  Before Delta knew it, the girl had taken off, leaving her with the struggling poodle. The animal wanted to go after the dog walker and dug her paws into the grass to provide extra traction. Delta had to use all her body weight to restrain the dog.

  “Need a hand?” a deep voice asked.

  Delta turned her head to find Jonas Nord right behind her. The wildlife guide, who was usually in the company of his retired K9 Spud, was now on his own, wearing a dark-blue suit with a deep-red tie.

  “Very neat.” Delta looked him over. “Were you invited by the husband as well?”

  “As well?” Jonas hitched a brow.

  “Yes, Ray Taylor is here too. Seems Mr. Drake asked him to attend his wife’s birthday party while he’s out on business.”

 
Jonas’s expression darkened at the mention of Ray. The two men didn’t like each other, although they had to maintain somewhat friendly relations, since Jonas worked as a guide for the Lodge Hotel, taking guests to spot wildlife or improve their photography skills. He was an avid photographer himself, usually carrying his camera with its long lens whenever he went into the woods.

  Jonas said, “Mr. Drake went on a bird-watching trip with me, and we got along well. He invited me to this party.” It sounded quite sparse and not altogether convincing, especially with his stiff stance and gaze flicking away from her and across the white party tents, as if he was scanning for something. But Delta knew Jonas better than to press him for more information now. She could always ask about it later, when the party was over, and the pressure gone. Before coming to Tundish, Jonas had been a policeman and K9 handler, and he still had links with his old profession. He rehomed K9s who came out of active service and went into normal families. Spud helped him to give the dogs a taste of life without duties, and once they were good to go, they left for all parts of the country.

  “Where’s Spud? He might have helped us track Pearl,” she said. Jonas patted Emerald, who gave him adoring looks and was no longer in any rush to get away.

  “Spud isn’t here. I wanted to bring him, but…” Jonas seemed to bite back something.

  Delta tilted her head with a questioning look, but Jonas nodded past her toward their tent. “So, you’ll be card-making with the ladies? Will Mrs. Drake be in with you?”

  “I have no idea. To be honest, I thought she was having card-making and snacks for some close friends, but it seems to be a bigger event.”

  “Yes, well, she used to be a star.” Jonas scratched the poodle behind her ears. He seemed to want to say more, but his expression suddenly became tense as he zoomed in on something.

  Delta turned her head to find out what it was but only caught a flash of white near a bush. Probably a caterer carrying drinks and boxes with food.

  Jonas said, “I’ll take along the poodle and help look for the other one. I’ll drop by later to see how you’re doing.”

  Before Delta could respond, he had pulled the dog away from her grasp and led it to the back of the garden where the dog walker had disappeared in search of Pearl.

  Delta exhaled. She had loved working with Jonas to ferret out the truth when, about a month ago, a murder had been committed at the Lodge Hotel, and Hazel’s brother, Finn, had been incriminated. It had been a tense time for Hazel, but the sleuthing had provided an intellectual challenge Delta had enjoyed more than she could have imagined. Discussing the case with Jonas had been especially fun, but after they had successfully solved it and brought the killer to justice, Jonas had sort of disappeared from her life, busy with his wildlife-spotting tours. She had only seen him once or twice at Mine Forever on the other side of the street, and although she had wanted to go over and ask him how he was doing, her pride had prevented her from it. He could come over to her, right? Or give her a call?

  That same brush of annoyance rushed through her now that he had left her standing there and had walked off to look for a dog. As if he couldn’t have asked how she was settling into town and all. It had been a big change from having a desk job in the city to running her own business in a small town. A generous gift from her grandmother had enabled her to buy into Wanted and make her life-long dream of working with paper goods a reality. But the creative side of it—designing wrapping paper, thinking up workshops—was but one part. The business end came with a steep learning curve. There was stock to choose, decorations to decide on, paperwork to do, money to keep track of, both earned and spent. The cash register did part of the work for her, but still she needed to practice her skills to stay on top of things and not let Hazel, her co-owner, take the brunt of responsibility. It was awkward, feeling so out of her depth regularly, and sometimes she caught herself thinking she had felt much more in control of her old life, back in Cheyenne.

  Delta shook her head as if to physically shed her unhappy feelings provoked by the brief encounter with Jonas. He was just a very practical guy who probably thought his help was needed to resolve the issue with the unruly poodles. They were a handful for a college-aged girl on her own. Still, Delta wondered why a professional dog walker couldn’t handle her charges.

  “I handed off the coats to the wardrobe attendant,” Mrs. Cassidy said, appearing by Delta’s side and showing her a token she had received. “It all looks very professionally organized. Too bad I couldn’t pretend to be lost and wander around a bit. I bet they have an amazing art collection. Paintings, drawings, silverware. Or china maybe. Drake has the money to buy some exquisite vases from a very old dynasty.”

  Delta frowned at her, and Mrs. Cassidy grinned. “I guess if I had gotten a chance to wander, I would have felt bad about invading the privacy of someone’s home and not done it anyway. It would have felt odd to barge into rooms for a look around, as if you’re at an art museum. But there are all these rumors going around about his collection. That it must contain very special, priceless pieces.”

  Delta knew that where rumors were concerned, Mrs. Cassidy was always in the know. Working at the town’s gold-mining museum, she was part of a close-knit group of volunteers who shared what they saw and heard, and the line-dancing team with which she had won regional competitions also seemed to be a fertile ground for information. Not to mention the Paper Posse, who messaged each other about everything they found worth sharing. They all worked at shops or public places where they heard people talk all day, and what they didn’t learn themselves, they could find out via friends who worked at the post office or a gas station.

  “It’s mainly because of Mr. Drake’s sister,” Mrs. Cassidy said with a pensive look. “She’s an art expert, so you would expect him to have inside information on what works of art to buy and what to avoid. She used to live and work in Los Angeles, but a few days ago, she showed up here in Tundish. I’ll point her out to you when I see her. Like Lena, she kept her maiden name when she married. She’s Sally Drake still.”

  Delta nodded, although she wasn’t really all that interested in the Drake family dynamics. “So, Lena Laroy kept her maiden name when she married?” she asked to keep the conversation going. “I heard some people call her Mrs. Drake.”

  “Yes, she answers to either, I assume. But Lena Laroy is almost a brand. Worth a lot of money even after her modeling career ended. Two years ago, she started this perfume line, and something with clothes too, I think. Wild Bunch Bessie mentioned having been to a fashion show with some of her items. Terribly expensive of course. High-end fashion it’s called, I think.”

  A statuesque woman with platinum-blond hair glided toward them across the lawn. Delta really couldn’t think of another word to describe the way in which she moved almost regally while she greeted people left and right. A turquoise dress with silver embroidery on the bodice fitted her like a glove. Silver high heels completed her ensemble. Her jewelry was kept simple: a single diamond dangled in her deeply cut neckline. It was encased in what looked like silver but was probably white gold. A plaited bracelet of the same material sat on her left arm. She wore no watch. With a wide smile, she descended upon them, her hand outstretched to Delta. “Hello, welcome to my home. How nice to meet you. Lena Laroy.”

  “Delta Douglas, of Wanted stationery store in town.”

  “Oh, yes, you have these gorgeous notebooks. I put two dozen in the tote bags for my friends.” She gestured over her shoulder to the house. “They do enjoy a bit of sparkle.”

  Before Delta could say that their stock was mainly bought from Japan and Australia, ensuring novelties and rare items, Lena Laroy stared past her. She pointed a turquoise fingernail at the empty blanket and exclaimed, “Where are my little darlings?”

  “I think the dog walker took them for a spin,” Mrs. Cassidy said quickly, glancing at Delta.

  “They are so cute,” Delta e
nthused to divert attention. “Have you had them from the time they were puppies?”

  “No, I got them later, through a friend who does shows with her poodles. But they have to be terribly well behaved to go to shows. Mine are spoiled rotten. My own fault, I suppose.” She flashed a charming smile. “Oh, there they are.”

  From the back of the garden, Zara came holding one poodle by the leash, while Jonas walked the other. Delta suppressed a grin at the sight of his tall, suit-clad figure with the bouncy, trimmed poodle beside him. He looked like the butler of a rich lady.

  “Jonas!” Lena Laroy rushed up to him, put her hand against his chest, leaned over, and pecked him on the cheek. “How nice to see you.”

  Delta didn’t want to analyze the little stab she felt inside at the intimate scene. Jonas seemed a bit uncomfortable under the sudden attention, handing off the poodle to the girl and excusing himself. Lena gazed after him as he strode away. Then she snapped at Zara, “I do expect you to watch them by yourself and not need others to help you. If it’s too much, I can always hire someone else.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I didn’t ask for his help. He came over and said he knew a lot about dogs,” the girl stammered and flushed.

  Delta closed in and said, “Jonas is a former K9 handler, so he does know a lot about dogs. He really likes them and probably meant to get acquainted with your dogs.”

  Lena Laroy looked her over as if she wanted to comment on her intrusion but stopped herself in the last instant. “I have guests to attend to. Excuse me.” She walked away.

  The girl exhaled slowly.

  Delta whispered, “Is she very demanding?”

  Zara straightened up as if someone had prodded her in the back. “I’d better get going.” She passed Delta and put the dogs back on the pink blanket.

  “Sorry, I guess,” Delta muttered with a sour expression and retreated to Mrs. Cassidy. “I thought I should help her a bit to escape her employer’s wrath, but she doesn’t seem to need any help. She looks rather classy in that dress. And the way she carries herself… Did she come here with the Drakes?”