Death on a Platter (27 page)

“Dr. Scottsmeyer, will you take that dog with you?” Mullanphy asked.

“Go with Dr. Ted,” Jane said. “Go on. Good dog. Go see Amelia.” Stuart barked and trotted out the back hall to Ted.

Josie told the detective what she’d heard Henrietta say about Clay’s life insurance policy, Gemma’s murder, and where Jeff and Henrietta got the castor beans that killed Clay.

“The rosary was made out of castor beans,” Josie said. “For real.”

“Let us prey,” Mullanphy said.

He started the process for the search warrants. Josie hoped she’d heard right over the groaning and groping. After she’d repeated her story three more times, the detective let Josie write out a statement in the kitchen while he interviewed Jane.

“I left my sodality meeting to help Josie,” Jane said. “I brought my dog with me because I had a bad feeling. Stuart is a hero. He deserves a medal.”

A weary Josie and Jane arrived home at seven thirty that evening. Jane was too tired to drive her car around back to the garage. She parked behind Ted’s Mustang. Josie parked in front.

An outraged Mrs. Mueller glowered at them, furious that three cars had invaded her street. Josie waved at the old woman and smiled. Mrs. M fluffed herself up like an outraged cat and dropped the miniblinds.

“Don’t start trouble with Mrs. Mueller, Josie. We’re finally talking,” Jane said.

“I was just waving to a neighbor,” Josie said.

“That innocent expression doesn’t fool me one bit,” Jane said. “Your daughter uses it, too. I hope it irritates you as much as it does me.”

“Now, Mom, don’t get in a huff,” Josie said. “We’re both tired. GBH?” She held out her arms and her mother came into them for a hug.

Josie could see—and feel—that her mother was aging. Jane’s hair was thinning and her hands were veined and liver-spotted. Oh, Mom, Josie thought. How many more years will I have you with me?

“Josie, you did a good job today,” Jane said. “I should have told you that.”

“You didn’t have time,” Josie said.

“Well, I’m taking time now. I’m sorry you were hurt. That was my fault.”

“You didn’t stab me with a paring knife,” Josie said.

“No, but I pushed you into helping Tillie and you had to deal with that terrible man and his disgusting paramour. You were right. You don’t have the skills of a professional. But you do listen to people. You see things other people don’t. That’s why you’re good.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Jane was quick to criticize but rarely praised her daughter.

“I’m too rough on you sometimes, Josie, but I do love you.”

“Stop it, Mom. You’ll make me cry.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Jane said. Her voice sharpened and she pulled away from Josie’s embrace.

“Good. You’re mad at me,” Josie said. “That’s the mother I know and love. I’m starved. Let’s order in pizza.”

“Let’s,” Jane said. “I’m too tired to cook.”

Josie unlocked the door to her flat and called, “Ted, Amelia, we’re home.”

Ted stepped out of the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. His smile lit his square-jawed face and his blue eyes softened. “Josie, how’s your shoulder? How are you?”

He started to kiss her, but Josie ducked. “I’m fine, except I smell like a landfill.”

“You are a little fragrant,” Ted said, and grinned. “You can shower before dinner if you want. We made a casserole with chicken thighs, garlic, tomatoes, and garbanzo beans, and A baked snickerdoodles for dessert.”

“A?” Josie said.

“That’s my name,” Amelia said.

“Just A?” Josie asked.

“Short, sweet, and the very best,” Amelia said. “That’s me.”

Ted winked at Josie.

“Okay, A,” Josie said.

“While you take a shower, Josie, A and I will set the table. Jane, do you want a drink before dinner?”

“I’d like a nice glass of white wine,” Jane said. “Just a thimbleful.”

“Pour me a glass, too,” Josie said. “I’ll drink it after my shower. I don’t want to ruin everyone’s dinner.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Amelia said. “You’re gross.”

“Crime fighting is a dirty job,” Josie said.

In her bathroom, Josie peeled off her new GET TOASTED AT TILLIE’S T-shirt and tossed it and her stained clothes in the wash. Was that egg yolk on one knee? She looked like she’d rolled in marinara sauce.

She turned on the water and stepped into the steaming shower. Josie sang “New Year’s Day,” a sad-sounding song from U2. Her rendition was even sadder. At least I didn’t miss a career as a rock star, she thought. She scrubbed her hair and skin, washing away the medicinal scent of the alcohol wipes and the rotten shrimp smell. It would be a while before she ate seafood.

After she toweled off, Josie slathered herself with apricot lotion and dried her hair. She felt revived. It was good to come home to a man, especially one who cooked dinner and dealt with her tween daughter. Sure, I can raise Amelia on my own, she thought. But it’s better with backup.

Josie looked at herself in the mirror. Fresh white shirt, clean jeans, brown bob with a bit of bounce, light lipstick for a little color. She was ready to face her family.

“You look nice,” Ted said when she reappeared. He hugged her and handed her a glass of white wine.

“Smell better, too,” Amelia said.

“A definite improvement,” Jane said. “How’s your shoulder?”

Jane still felt guilty, Josie thought. Good. That will make my life easier for a while.

“Better,” Josie said. “Everything is better.” She smiled at Ted. He kissed her cheek, then said, “You’ve finished your wine, Jane. How about a refill?”

“No, thanks. I have to walk the dog after dinner.”

“The hero has already been walked,” Ted said. “Amelia took him out. She thought it would be good advertising for her new business. Stuart has had his dinner, too. He’s resting on his laurels on Amelia’s bathroom rug. His pal Harry is curled up beside him.”

“Then I’ll take a smidgen of wine.” Jane held her fingertips an inch apart. “I’d like a drink while I check my mail.”

“I’ll get it,” Amelia said. “It’s still in your mailbox.”

Josie was glad her mother was fortified with wine when she saw the mail Amelia carried to her grandmother. The top envelope had a return address with a giant eagle, a flag, and “United States Department of Security.” Josie recognized that letter. She’d created the hyperpatriotic stationary and the fictitious federal department.

“I wonder why the government is writing me,” Jane said, tearing open the envelope. “I hope they don’t want more money.”

Fierce-eyed eagles spread their wings over the letterhead. Jane’s eyes widened as she read and she gave a little gasp. “Oh, no. Oh, dear. No, no, no,” she said softly. “That’s not what I meant to do at all.”

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Josie asked. She knew exactly what was wrong and hoped Jane was too distracted to recognize Josie’s pretend-innocent expression.

“The government says I’ve been donating to charities that are”—Jane read from the letter—“‘known to give aid and comfort to terrorist groups.’ The government is asking me to ‘cease and desist donating to these organizations.’ How could this happen? I’ve always been a good citizen.”

“May I see the letter, Mom?”

Jane passed it to her daughter with a shaking hand.

Josie skimmed it and said, “These are the charities I told you about. The fake ones.”

“I know you did and I should have listened. I wonder if Mrs. Mueller and Mrs. Gruenloh know about this. I’d better call them tomorrow.”

“Are you going to keep sending money to those charities?” Josie asked.

“Of course not!” Jane said. “I don’t help terrorists. What kind of citizen do you think I am?”

“Dinner!” Ted said.

Josie was relieved to be saved by the bell—the dinner bell. Jane was not eager to revisit the subject. Ted talked through the awkward silence. “We should toast Josie and her detecting abilities,” he said.

They raised their glasses. “To Josie!”

“I almost got toasted at Tillie’s,” Josie said. “For real.”

Jane’s smile dimmed and Josie thought she was being too rough on her mother.

“When do you think they’ll set Tillie free?” Jane asked.

“It depends if that search warrant Detective Mullanphy wanted produces the rosary with the crushed beads.”

“Why is that important?” Ted asked.

“The rosary is from Mexico,” Josie said. “Clay bought it for his mother when he and Henrietta were on their honeymoon. Castor beans are beautiful and they’re used for necklaces and prayer beads in Mexico, the Caribbean, and South America.”

“You sure know a lot about castor beans,” Ted said. She loved the admiration in his eyes.

“Read it on the Internet,” Josie said. “I guess Henrietta saw the same article. She took the beans from her mother-in-law’s rosary. Jeff used them to poison Clay.”

“But I thought Tillie fired him,” Jane said.

“She did,” Josie said. “I’m guessing here, but I think Jeff planned to murder Clay that day. He went to the restaurant to ask for his old job back. Tillie turned him down, but that gave him the excuse to be in the restaurant. He knew his way around the kitchen because he used to work there. He brought the beans with him and took advantage of the drunken confusion Clay created and Tillie’s anger and slipped a lethal dose into Clay’s toasted ravioli and the sauce.”

“Using a rosary for murder,” Jane said. “That’s just sinful.”

“So is murder,” Josie said. “Clay knew his wife was having an affair with someone, but he wasn’t sure who it was. Henrietta was definitely hot for Jeff.”

“How do you know?” Jane said.

“I saw them groping each other in the back hall. That’s when Jeff told his honey to hang on for Clay’s life insurance. The police will have to verify that Henrietta has the policy, but I’m sure she does. Jeff is single and Clay was obnoxious. Henrietta wanted rid of her husband, but she also wanted that two million dollars.”

“If the police can prove she killed him, Henrietta won’t get a penny,” Ted said.

“Jeff had planned to spend it all on an upscale restaurant anyway,” Josie said. “I wonder if she realizes how desperate Jeff was for her money.

“That pair killed Gemma Lynn,” she said. “I heard them talking about it. Poor Gemma found out about Clay’s life insurance and tried to blackmail Henrietta. They made her death look like a burglary.”

“Poor Tillie,” Jane said. “Those two deserve to spend the rest of their lives in prison.”

Josie and Jane praised the chicken casserole. The five of them polished it off down to the last garbanzo bean. Over cookies, Amelia said, “My dog-walking flyer is ready. I made it on my computer. I’m going to post it all over the neighborhood. Want to see it?”

“Bring it on,” Ted said.

She returned with a colorful flyer that read:

It featured a color picture of Stuart Little and Amelia’s school photo. “People around here will know I walk him,” Amelia said. “It’s good advertising.”

“Whoa,” Ted said. “You’re using your photo and your cell phone number, A?”

“I want people to know who they’re hiring.”

“They’ll find that out when they interview you,” Ted said. “It’s not a good idea to post your picture and cell phone number where anyone could see them. You can attract some bad people. Why not get the names and addresses of potential clients and send letters? Use your mother’s phone. Your letter can tell them to call between four and eight p.m. I’ll give you a reference letter and so will your grandmother. Does that make sense?”

“Sure,” Amelia said. “There are lots of perverts out there.” Josie was touched by how grownup her daughter sounded.

“A strong woman knows how to protect herself,” Ted said.

Amelia tried to hide a yawn.

“It’s eleven o’clock,” Josie said. “Tell Ted good night. We’ve all had a busy day.”

“Aw, Mom.”

“I think I’ll turn in, too,” Jane said. “Where’s Stuart?”

“The hero looks ready to go home,” Ted said. “He’s right here yawning.”

Stuart managed one tired tail wag.

“What happened to the blood on his muzzle?” Josie asked.

“I wiped away the red badge of courage,” Ted said.

Jane kissed all three of them good night. She looked like she could hardly drag herself up the stairs. The chef chomper followed, nails pattering on the tile.

When Ted and Josie were alone she said, “Thanks for picking up A at school, for cooking dinner, and for helping with her dog-walking business.”

“My pleasure,” Ted said. “I mean that. She’s smart, funny, a darn good cook—and almost as clever as her mother. Your plan to save Jane from those crooks worked.”

“I don’t think I’ll have to worry about Mom sending them money again,” Josie said.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Ted asked.

“Sleeping in,” Josie said. “I’ve turned in my last TAG Tour report. My work is done.”

“I have the day off, too,” Ted said. He kissed her good night. The long, dreamy kiss made Josie feel lonelier when it ended.

“I have to leave, don’t I?” he said.

“Yes,” Josie said. “I don’t want A surprising us on the couch. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Hand in hand they strolled outside. The moon was a gold disc in a black velvet sky.

“Look at that gorgeous harvest moon,” Josie said, and sighed.

“Can I ask you something?” Ted said.

“Yes.” Josie’s voice trembled with hope. This was the perfect setting for a proposal, a golden moon with the promise of a bright future.

“Want to go for that walk tomorrow?” Ted asked.

Josie sat straight up in bed, her heart slamming in her chest. She saw the time glowing on her clock: 3:12. She’d seen them in her dreams. The killers, Jeff and Henrietta, were twined together like snakes. Jeff was in his chef’s whites. Henrietta wore her widow’s weeds. Her eyes shone with blood and lust.