Chapter 6

Morning came, seemingly innocuous and commonplace with bright light and birdsong. But for Molly and Grace, it was like no other morning. The heaviness of the rumors that they'd murdered Jeremy Prada hung like funereal wreaths around their necks and cast everything with a gray pall. One that Grace was fighting hard to shed.

"Come on, Molly. Everything's going to be fine." Grace sat on the side of the bed, dressed in her pajamas and thick socks. Molly lay in bed yet, seemingly unable to get out of it.

"I feel like my life is over, Grace. Alone. No apartment, no job, no prospects."

"You're not the first one to have to start over, Molly. And you're not alone. You've got me. You're going to be fine." Grace cupped Molly's chin in the palm of her hand. "I like you, Molly. A lot. We're going to get through this, together."

Molly nodded but still looked so sad that it broke Grace's heart to see her so down. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Molly's lips. "It's going to be alright. I promise."

Molly gave her a tiny smile. "I want to believe you. I want it so bad."

"Then believe." Grace broke into a wide grin and tore the covers down from over Molly's body. "Okay, enough feeling sorry for ourselves. We've got work to do today. Let's go. You hit the shower, and I'll go downstairs and make breakfast. Meet you in the kitchen in twenty!"

Thirty minutes later, Molly, dressed in jeans and a soft-looking pullover sweater was seated at the kitchen table eating eggs, bacon, and toast, with a cup of steaming hot coffee on the side.

Zoe and Emily had taken Lily for a walk, so Grace and Molly were alone in the house. It was quiet, peaceful, and relaxing.

Grace finished cooking and joined her at the table. She took a sip of her coffee and smiled. "Ah, the Goddess Caffeine, she sings through my veins!"

Molly giggled. "You're so weird sometimes."

"I know. It makes me interesting. And speaking of weird, we're going to talk to Ginny Windom today. I found out from Zoe that she runs a vintage clothing shop on Third. We can head up there after breakfast."

"What do we do when we get there? We can't just push her up against the wall and demand answers."

"Of course not. You get more flies with honey than vinegar. We'll be sweet and amicable. Look at her clothing and get her talking about her passion for vintage and for her cats. See where it leads us." Grace sopped up the last bit of egg with a piece of toast and ate it. "Do you have the dishes? I'd like to grab a shower. Oh, and by the way, Zoe and Emily gave us the code to the house lock so we can come and go as we please."

"That's so awesome of them." Molly nodded. "And don't worry. I've got the dishes. Take your time. I'll be here."

Grace trotted upstairs and grabbed her clothes and a towel and locked herself in the bathroom. A long, hot shower was just what she needed, and when she was done, she felt like a new woman who could face the world. Even when that world thought she was a murderer.

She dressed in jeans and another button-down flannel, and her comfortable boots, then hurried downstairs.

Molly was waiting in the living room, her coat draped across her lap.

"Ready?" Grace asked. She shrugged into her jacket.

Molly nodded and stood up, slipping her arms into her coat. "Ready."

After locking up the house using the electronic lock and code given to them by Zoe, they got into the Silverado.

Grace looked at Molly. "How do you feel about driving down to the maze and picking up your truck? We can park it here at the house."

"You want to check out the maze, too, don't you?" Molly smirked.

"I won't lie. I'm curious to see if they've destroyed it."

Molly's smile turned grim. "Okay. I'm not crazy about returning to the scene of the crime, so to speak, but…okay. I do need my truck anyway."

Grace turned the Silverado right, and they headed down the twisting roads that led out of town and to the field where the maze had been built.

Everything looked the same aside from the yellow police tape crisscrossing the entrance. Somehow, that yellow tape just got to Grace, making her realize her season was over for the year.

"Jesus," Grace said. Then the tears came and became sobs. She shook with them and felt Molly's arms encircle her. "It was all for nothing, Molly. All those hours of planning and designing and working, all that money invested in manpower and hay bales, the decorations..."

"You'll reopen," Molly whispered. "As soon as this is all over, or next year at the latest. I'll bet when you rebuild it, it'll be better than ever."

Grace shook her head. "It'll always be stained by the murder. People will always whisper, ‘This is the maze where that guy got killed.' No matter how many times I rebuild."

"No. They'll forget. They always do. And if not, it'll become an urban legend and add to the spookiness of the experience."

Grace's sigh seemed to come from her feet to her head, it was so deep. "Okay. Let's get your truck. You have the keys?"

Molly jangled them in her hand.

"Okay, follow me back to the house."

"Um, Grace? Look."

Grace looked where Molly was pointing. Her Blazer was covered with yellow police caution tape, too. Grace got out of her truck and stood next to Molly.

"What the hell?" Grace stalked toward the Blazer. "What are they doing?"

"Protecting evidence. What are you two doing up here?" Deputy Aldridge stepped out from behind the Blazer.

"We came to get Molly's truck."

Deputy Aldridge looked as if he might argue with her, but he didn't. He just moved to the side so they could pass. He would know by now thattheir alibis checked out, and besides, a warrant would be needed to impound the car, and there was no reason to get one.

She and Molly quickly ripped off the yellow caution tape, and they each drove back their own vehicle back to town and to Zoe and Emily's house. Molly left her truck there and jumped into the Silverado.

Grace drove onto Third Street. About halfway down the block was a tiny boutique, Second Time Around Vintage Clothing. Finding a parking spot across the street, she successfully parallel parked — not her favorite thing to do, especially in the large Silverado — and they exited. They stood watching the shop for a few minutes from across the street.

The shop seemed normal. It had a sign hanging over the door proclaiming its name, and two big picture windows, one on either side of the door. In the windows stood mannequins dressed in vintage clothing, mostly eighties leftovers — lace gloves, parachute pants, and padded-shoulder jackets in neon colors. One blonde mannequin was dressed like Madonna in a pointy-boobed corset and leggings. In another glass case were older antiques that seemed to stem from the forties and fifties — an old gun, a bayonet, and a WWII knife.

"Ready? Just follow my lead." Grace led Molly across the street to the store. When she pulled open the door, a delicate bell dinged.

Inside the store, it looked as if the eighties had exploded. Music from the eighties was playing from an honest-to-goodness boombox. At the moment it was, "Don't Stop Believing," by Journey.

If it was made in the eighties, it seemed it had found a home on a shelf or a hanger in the store. Garbage Pail Kids trading cards, Rubix cubes, a few Care Bears, several Cabbage Patch dolls, and a Teddy Ruxpin, and lots of things Grace didn't recognize were on one shelf. In a glass case below the shelf, there were several Nintendo units including the original one, Ataris, Segas, and a TurboGrafx 16, along with an array of games for each of them.

On the other side of the store, the shelves held jewelry displays featuring lightning earrings, bangles, jelly bracelets, headbands, large bow barrettes, and other eighties jewelry treasures.

The shelves below displayed leg warmers, knee-high boots with kitten heels, jelly shoes, Candies high wooden-heeled shoes, and Keds.

The rest of the store was filled with racks of clothing: ripped sweatshirts, tights, sweatpants, velour sweatsuits, parachute pants, high-waisted jeans, accordion-pleated gowns, gowns with ruffled necklines, jackets with large shoulder pads, lace bustiers, and short, frilly skirts.

At the rear of the store was a check-out counter, and behind it stood a woman who seemed to have chosen her clothing exclusively from the wares sold in the store. Her long blonde hair was processed in a spiral perm and gathered up in a banana clip, and she wore a sweatshirt with the collar ripped off, baring one shoulder, along with a pair of high-waisted jeans.

"Hi! May I help you?" she called out in a cheery, singsong voice.

"Um, we're just looking," Grace said. She pretended to finger a pair of parachute pants on a nearby rack.

The woman gave them a wide smile. "Oh, sure! Take your time. If you have any questions, just sing out. The dressing room is over here." She pointed to a curtained area at the back of the store.

They continued to pretend shop for a while, slowly making their way to the counter. Grace picked up a pair of leg warmers and brought them to the register. They were neon pink and were something she'd never wear, but she needed a ruse to strike up a conversation with Ginny.

"Do you have these in any other color?" Grace asked. "Maybe in the back room?"

"Oh no. I never keep stock in the back room," Ginny said. "It's off limits."

"I see. Well, we're new in town," Grace began as Ginny started to ring up the sale.

"Oh, I know! My cats told me. They're quite the gossips, you know."

"Your cats?"

"Yes, indeed. They're telepathic. Are you telepathic?"

Grace shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not."

Ginny sighed. "Then I'm afraid you won't be able to hear them. That's sad. They love meeting new people. My dear departed husband, Charles, could never hear them either."

"I'm sorry about your husband," Grace said.

"Oh, poor Charles has been gone twenty years now. He was a police officer in Denver. I moved here after he passed. Me and the cats, of course."

Grace exchanged a glance with Molly. "What did your cats tell you about us?"

"Well," she said, pointing to Grace, "your name is Mary, and," she continued, pointing to Molly, "your name is Jane…or Janet. Sometimes they don't get it right. You've just moved into town."

"Wow, that's…er, amazing." Molly said.

"Right on the nose," Grace added. "Say, since we're new, maybe you can help us with a few recommendations?"

Ginny beamed. "I'd love to. What would you like to know?"

"Well, we could use the name of a good salon," Grace said. She patted her hair. "I need color and a cut badly."

"Oh, that's easy. "Cuts ‘n Curls, on Second Street. That's where I get mine done." Ginny grinned.

"Oh, and it's a lovely perm," Grace said. "How about dinner? Any good restaurants?"

"Oh, lots! I hear the Whitewater serves really good burgers, but if you're into vegetarianism like me, Cherry's Pies has a veggie pizza to die for. The Club Diner serves a pasta primavera that's really tasty, too."

"Sounds delicious. How about banks? Investment firms? I have some money put aside that I need to transfer from Denver," Grace asked.

"Well, I use the First Bank of Summit Springs. As for investments, all I can say is stay away from Albert Herves. He lost all my money in a Ponzi scheme with a lowlife named Jeremy Prada. Oh, when I think about it I get so mad I could just kill! Every cent I had put away is gone. All I have left is this store."

"That's so sad. I'm sorry you got caught up in all that," Molly said. The pity in her voice was clear and sincere.

Ginny waved a hand, then looked over Grace and Molly's heads to make sure there was no one else in the store. "Between us chickies, Jeremy Prada is dead, and he got exactly what he deserved. He was the mastermind behind the Ponzi scheme, you know. His head was bashed in while he was in that hay maze they build every year outside of town."

"Oh, my! That's awful." Grace cried.

"No, it's not. It's justice," Ginny retorted. Then her smile returned. "Will that be cash or charge?"