Vivian Conroy - Grand Prize - Murder!

“Aren’t there courses for senior citizens at the community center?” Marge said as she clicked on the touch pad.

Ms. Tennings grimaced. “Yes, but going to one of those makes me feel quite helpless. I’ve been the teacher for all of my life, you know.” She held up a reddish soap with a white ribbon to Vicky. “How do you like this?”

Vicky came over for a closer look. “Great. I’m also thinking about some finishing touches. Maybe a sprig of lavender and herbs from the garden? I really want to make the gifts stand out so I’ll get more orders for hen parties.”

“When are you delivering this order?”

“Saturday morning at the hotel where the bride-to-be and her family are staying.”

Ms. Tennings nodded. “We’ll do the finishing touches then. I can bring material from my garden as well so we have enough. Everything else is arranged for?”

Vicky enumerated on her fingers, “For each guest to the hen party a small soap from my exclusive collection, a scented candle in a glass holder with heart decoration and a mini book with quotes, appropriate to their connection to the bride-to-be. So quotes on motherhood for Mom, being sisters for the sisters, friendship for the friends et cetera.”

“You forgot to mention,” Marge said, “that the bride-to-be mailed us a list with everybody’s favorite color and favorite scent so we can customize the whole thing. Imagine this: Monica likes red so she has to have the strawberry-scented candle and the soap with the reddish tinge and then the book on friends. Oh no, she is a sister-in-law so she has to get the book on sisters.”

Vicky laughed. “You make it sound so terrible. My client just wants bespoke presents.”

Marge grimaced. “I’m used to bulk orders. If you had ever washed the outfits for a Little League team, you’d know what I mean.”

Vicky laughed even harder. “So Kev made the promise to the trainer and you are doing all the work?”

Marge sighed in resignation. “They are also coming to our place to eat after training. I’ll be making about a hundred pancakes.”

Vicky cringed. “Then I’d rather do the hen party order. Each to his own, right? What on earth are you doing anyway?”

“I’m using Bella’s cover with the London skyline because it’s so familiar. Then all I need is some catchy text. For the posters, to advertise the scavenger hunt.”

Vicky and Ms. Tennings came to stand by Marge’s side as she put pictures in place and added text.

SEE BRITAIN AND DIE author Bella Brookes

signs at the Glen Cove Community Center.

Be there for a chance to win a trip for two

to that capital of crime

LONDON!

“How’s that?” she asked, staring at the screen in concentration.

Vicky whistled. “Where did you learn to make things like that?”

“The library needed promotional material last year, and I offered to make it. You can hire someone for it, but you know how we are budget-wise. So I taught myself all I know. I’m not too hot on courses either where the computer whiz makes you feel like you can’t keep up. Now I can make as many mistakes as I like and repair them without anyone looking over my shoulder.”

Marge grinned at Ms. Tennings, then turned to Vicky again. “Anything you don’t like about this design? I can still change the font size for instance.”

“Yes, maybe we should put the date and time in a different font. Or maybe even in a different place on the poster? To draw attention? If people walk past it, they don’t have much time to grab the essentials.”

“Right. Where would you like it? How big?”

Vicky leaned over and pointed out a few more things that Marge changed with a mouse click or two.

After all changes were done and the end product fully approved, Marge printed off one full-color version on the store’s printer and handed it to her with a bow. “Your master copy, ma’am. Multiply it at the Joneses and we can spread it around town.”

Claire sat up already, eager to do her part. “I’ll take some posters along for Marjorie’s B&B and the fishmonger. I’m picking up dinner there anyway.” She brushed the head of Mr. Pug, who looked alert and ready to jump into action as well. “We don’t have much time to get people talking about this.”

At Jones General across the road, Vicky was met by Mrs. Jones’ cousin, Bob, a nice-looking guy in his mid-thirties who was a favorite with the senior citizens to whom he delivered groceries. Bob was always eager to help change a lightbulb or look at a leaking faucet. He drove little old ladies out to their bridge nights or to the bank. He taught them how to use email so they could contact their grandchildren with ease or how to make a digital photo album of their family snapshots. There wasn’t a whole lot that Bob couldn’t do.

Now, with a wide smile, he asked Vicky if he could show her how the copying machine worked.

Acknowledging the possibility that she’d accidentally run off faulty copies she couldn’t use but would have to pay for, Vicky gave him the master copy.

“Hey.” Bob’s tanned index finger circled the name Bella Brookes. “I thought she was hiding away from the public. Bit of an eccentric recluse.”

Vicky was surprised. Bella might be eccentric, but a recluse? “Where did you get that idea?”

He shrugged. “Must be mistaking her for somebody else. A trip to London, huh?” He whistled. “That’s some prize. I bet Aunt Em would love to see Buckingham Palace, take tea in some fancy tea parlor there. What kind of contest is it? Geocaching? I’ve always wanted to do that. Wouldn’t she be surprised if I took her to London for her birthday in October.”

Vicky smiled at his enthusiasm. “It could be geocaching for all I know. Bella Brookes hasn’t revealed all the details yet, but she will do so at the book signing on Saturday afternoon. We did announce the signing in advance of course under regional activities, but the chance to win tickets to London is a later addition, so some extra posters seemed like a good idea.”

“For sure.” Bob put the master copy in place and pushed buttons on the control panel. “This is for the paper size. Letter. Here we have black and white or full-color. Full-color it is. That should do it. Just one at first to see how it looks, hey.”

The machine began to hum. Bob smiled at her. “You think I could participate in this hunt?”

“Everybody can who is not involved with my store. Because we’re organizing it, we’re legally excluded from participation.”

“Ah. That’s too bad. But then again you lived there for years so you know it all, I bet.”

“Right.” Back in the UK, when traveling around and seeing lots of people, it had always been Vicky’s favorite game to guess what people did for a living. There was always something that gave them away. Bob here for example looked like an athlete with a broad chest and muscled arms, but he also liked to explain things. He was patient and enthusiastic. Coupled with a long summer vacation, it was a no-brainer.

He had to be a teacher. Phys ed.

Bob said, “Why don’t I give you a hand getting these spread around?”

Without waiting for a response, he walked away and stuck his head round the door leading into the back area. “Aunt Em, I’m off. Will be back in an hour.”

A voice said something in reply that Vicky couldn’t make out. Bob waved a hand. “Later, OK?”

He turned to her. “I’ll do the stores in town and then take my car to the north, put them up at restaurants, gas stations, hotels and campsites. You take the south, OK?”

Vicky smiled again. He was thinking up places to put the posters that she hadn’t even considered herself. And with his natural charm he’d talk anybody into allowing a poster to be put up on the announcement board or the front window. “Great. Thanks for your help.”