Free Case of Imagination by Jane Tesh Page A

country?”
    I had a hard time keeping the joy out of my voice. “Not in a million years.”
    We ate for a while in silence. Then Jerry said, “Maybe she was a ghost.”
    “Who?”
    “The girl I saw.”
    “Maybe you hit your head just a little too hard.” I passed him another Coke.
    “I saw her first—then I hit my head.” He carefully touched his forehead. “Which has stopped throbbing, by the way, thanks to my excellent health care provider.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “See, Mac? You can do it all. How’s the Case of the Purloined Pageant coming along?”
    “It’s become the Case of the Pulverized Pageant. Somebody trashed the set. The police say it’s probably kids, but I’m not so sure. I’m going to stake out the place for a few hours tonight and see what happens.”
    “Could be the ghost of a former contestant, someone who was robbed of her rightful title.”
    I chuckled. “Do you sit around making this stuff up, or does it just come naturally to you?”
    “You forget, I’m in the séance business. I’d better come along and try to make contact.”
    “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
    “It’s better than waiting here alone for Ghost Woman to make another appearance.”
    I started to say no, then reconsidered. It wasn’t a good idea to leave someone with a head injury alone overnight, and of course, I always enjoyed Jerry’s company.
    “Okay, partner, I’ll deputize you. But you can take it easy for a while. I’m not leaving until eleven.”
    “Aren’t they rehearsing tonight? I can’t think of anything more relaxing than watching beauty queens.”
    “The choreographer has quit, and the set is on the floor. I don’t think they’ll have much of a rehearsal.”
    The phone rang. I went into the living room to answer it. Gregory Prill’s booming voice said, “Madeline Maclin, have you found any ghosts yet?”
    I felt guilty I’d neglected his case. “Not yet. I apologize.”
    “Well, don’t fret. I realize you’re busy with the pageant. I’m calling to let you know Shana Amry is back in town. She’s been on tour, promoting her latest book. She’d love to meet you, say, around noon tomorrow, at Georgia’s?”
    “That would be fine, thanks.”
    “I think the two of you will get along splendidly. Until later, then. Ta, ta!”
    I’d never actually heard a grown man say, “Ta, ta!” I was still grinning when I came back to the porch.
    ***
     
    Around eleven, we drove into town and parked several blocks from the theater. We walked around to the stage door entrance. I used my key to unlock the doors. Inside, the auditorium made strange creaks and breathing sounds. I turned on the backstage work lights. Most of the set had been reassembled, although the gondolas were pretty much a loss. “Venice lives again.”
    “Ah, the old country,” Jerry said.
    “Did you ever go to Venice?”
    “We took the Grand Tour when I was little. I don’t remember much.”
    “Find someplace to get comfortable. I’m going to look around.”
    Jerry sat down in the front row while I prowled backstage. Everything looked the same. When I stepped onto the stage, he clapped and whistled. I gave him a pageant wave and a big fake smile.
    “Brings back fond memories, doesn’t it?”
    I sat on the edge of the stage. “Memories of screaming mothers and crying girls.”
    Jerry had seen a tape of me in one of the Little Miss Parkland pageants. “I especially like the big hair.”
    I ran my hand through my short curls. “Yeah, I miss all the teasing and the hairspray. Sleeping in rollers is good, too.”
    “And now you’re Macho Mac, Defender of the Poor.”
    “And where has that gotten me? Sitting in an empty auditorium.”
    “Waiting to snag an unsuspecting, Venice-destroying pageant-hater.”
    I grinned. “Who’s not going to make an appearance if we’re out here yakking. Let’s find a better hiding place.” I looked around. “How about the light booth? We can see everything from up