Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 40, No. 6, June, 1995

“I’m not really sure,” Elaine said, “except you’re wearing red.”

That I was. A red skirt with my now inkstained white blouse, but what did this have to do—

“Naomi was wearing her red dress when she disappeared.”

Naomi Ray was standing in a grove of frightening looking trees. I thought she had the look of a lost little girl on her face — in the painting.

Cyrus Ray had won a prize at the county fair for this artistic rendition of his wife. It was hanging in his kitchen over the butcher block where Cyrus was going chop chop chop with a huge meat cleaver.

“Now, why am I a celebrity, Candace Sue?” He moved from around the table, that cleaver in his hand.

We have this feature in the newspaper called Celebrity Chef. I came up with the idea myself, where members of the community, “celebrities,” which just means somebody like the fire chief or the district attorney, since we don’t have any of the Current Affair type of celebrities around, share a special recipe.

“Well, because of your painting talent,” I said.

Boy, could I lie. You would think all those years at Catholic school would have made me at least blush a little bit when I lied that tremendously. But maybe he did have some kind of twisted talent. I could hardly take my eyes off Naomi’s portrait.

Cyrus was busy making a Chinese chicken salad. This Celebrity Chef thing had gone to his head. I could tell. I personally thought he was using way too much mayonnaise.

“That’s a pretty skirt you’re wearing, Candace Sue.”

“You must like red, Cyrus.”

He chuckled and looked very pleased. “Why, how did you know?”

“Naomi’s wearing a red dress in that picture.”

I’m never going to get very far in this detecting stuff, especially if I give all my prime clues away to the prime suspect. I got out of there as soon as I could think of an excuse to leave, even though Cyrus wanted me to stay and eat some of his mayonnaise-heavy Chinese chicken salad. He didn’t act like he suspected anything.

I returned to the newspaper office and sat down at my desk and tried to draw the portrait of Naomi as best I could from memory, but it wasn’t good enough. All I could remember were those frightening looking trees, but I thought there might have been something else in the picture besides trees and Naomi in that unlucky red dress.

Big Tim McCallister, the sheriff’s deputy, was walking my way. He always stopped at my desk when he was at the newspaper for other business. I was getting tired of being single, but me and Big Tim McCallister? I wasn’t so sure that would work. He seemed kind of slow and awkward and didn’t talk more than he needed to. Where was Ned Nickerson — Nancy Drew’s shining boyfriend — when you needed him?

“Tim, have there been any new developments on the Naomi Ray case?”

So much for easing up to the subject.

“Come on, Candace Sue. She took her jewelry and left town.”

“She didn’t take her emerald necklace.”

Tim shook his head. “Naomi’s relatives been by, haven’t they? Those people just won’t give up.”

That took care of my asking for his help on this case, so instead I asked Deputy McCallister for his pork rind recipe for the Celebrity Chef column. I set up an appointment to interview him and dropped the subject of Naomi Ray.

But as soon as he left, I pulled out my drawing again and tried to remember more, because I knew there was something else in Naomi’s portrait, something I had left out.

“Well, you know, Cyrus, I would like someone to go to a movie with once in a while. Interview with the Vampire’s coming to town soon.”

It made me absolutely sick at my stomach to pretend to flirt with Cyrus Ray, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And it got me inside his house again.

I went with a camera around my neck and told Cyrus I had to take his photo to go along with the recipe.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer, Candace Sue.”

“Anybody can push a button down on a camera.”

If this had been a Nancy Drew book, Cyrus Ray would have gotten rid of the portrait by now, but no, it was still hanging up in the exact same spot over the cutting board and I backed Cyrus up to that. Either Cyrus Ray was innocent or he wasn’t as smart as a Nancy Drew type of crook. Or maybe I was just getting better at this detecting business.

“You want me to hold up a knife or anything?” Cyrus asked.

“That would probably add some realism.”

But where he was standing he blocked too much of the picture. “No. Over to the left. Just a little bit over to the left. Perfect. Perfect.”