Authors: Elaine Viets

Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Women Sleuths, #Fiction

Death on a Platter (28 page)

BOOK: Death on a Platter

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She’d killed her husband with a gift to his mother. The woman was incredibly cruel. But why am I afraid? Josie wondered. She’s in jail and so is her lover.

Because I want to marry Ted. Did Henrietta ever love her husband?

If things go bad with Ted, would I divorce him or kill him? she wondered. Would he want to kill me? He must have doubts about us, or he’d ask me to marry him. Maybe it’s a sign we should stay single. If Ted asks me today, I’ll tell him no. I’ll have a nice, safe life with my daughter. I’m happy the way I am.

Josie felt relieved now that she’d made her decision. Exhausted from her eventful day and early-morning worries, she shut her eyes. Just for a moment . . .

Josie’s sound sleep was shattered at six ten by a ringing phone. As she grabbed for it, she felt a stab of fear. Early-morning calls heralded death and disaster.

She heard Jane shouting, “Josie! Josie! Wake up!”

“What’s wrong?” Josie was wide-awake now.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jane said. “Everything’s right. Tillie’s going free. I just heard from Lorena. That Henrietta woman confessed. She blamed everything on the chef.”

“Of course she did,” Josie said.

“But she’s still guilty. She’s the one who took out that insurance policy on Clay. Two million dollars. Imagine.”

Josie’s mind flashed on Jeff, breathing heavily as he clutched Henrietta in the hallway at Tillie’s. Was he lusting for the new widow or a new restaurant?

What made Henrietta turn on her lover? Did she finally realize Chef Jeff’s plans for the insurance money didn’t include her? Sitting alone in the River Bluff lockup could give a woman second thoughts.

“There’s a bunch of evidence,” Jane said. “The police found the broken rosary hidden in Henrietta’s insurance office and it was made out of castor beans. It was missing a full decade of beads. That’s what happens when you desecrate a rosary.” Righteous wrath sizzled through the phone line.

“They got those two for the other murder,” Jane said. “The chef said Henrietta killed that junk lady.”

“You mean Gemma Lynn?” Josie asked.

“That’s her,” Jane said. “Lorena told me everything the police found out. Clay wanted to cash in his life insurance policy when he couldn’t find another job, but Henrietta wouldn’t let him. She even sold her new car to keep up the payments on her husband’s policy.”

“And Gemma knew about Clay’s life insurance?” Josie asked.

“Yes. Gemma figured out that the chef and Henrietta were—you know—going together.”

Going together.
Josie got another vision of the two killers in each other’s arms. That scene was burned into her brain.

“Clay wanted to cash in his life insurance policy when he was out of work, but Henrietta wouldn’t let him. She sold their Lexus instead and bought something cheap. The police think Clay complained to Gemma about losing their car.”

Jane bulldozed through her story, too excited to wait for Josie’s reaction. “After Clay was killed, a customer from Hartford Street came into Gemma’s store. That’s in South St. Louis.”

“Yes, I—”

“Gemma didn’t get many South Siders in River Bluff,” Jane said.

“She didn’t get many customers at all, Mom.”

“Right. Well, the man was a regular, so Gemma let him pay by check. His Hartford address must have jogged her memory. She remembered Clay telling her his wife took out a big insurance policy on him.

“If Gemma had gone to the police with her information, she’d still be alive,” Jane said. “Instead she called Henrietta and demanded half the life insurance money. That Gemma was no good.”

“So which one killed her?” Josie asked.

“The police say Jeff and Henrietta did it together. Both their fingerprints
and
their footprints were in Gemma’s shop.”

“Lots of fingerprints are in that shop,” Josie said.

“Not bloody ones,” Jane said. “They’re both guilty.”

“Good,” Josie said.

“Mom?” Amelia was leaning against Josie’s bedroom doorway, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Harry was perched on her shoulder like a big owl.

“Did the phone wake you up, sweetie?” Josie asked.

“No, you did,” Amelia said, her mouth set in a pout.

“Go back to bed, honey,” Josie said. “It’s Saturday. You can sleep late.”

“Not with you yelling.” Amelia stomped off to her room and slammed the door.

“Josie?” Jane asked. “What was that?”

“A look at the future,” Josie said.

“You’re not making sense,” Jane said.

“We woke up Amelia.”

“And she’s just as sweet as her mother in the morning.” Jane’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“What else did you want to tell me, Mom?” Josie asked.

“Tillie’s story is going to be on TV at six thirty this morning,” Jane said. “I thought you’d want to watch it.”

“I’ve already heard it,” Josie said, then realized she sounded as surly as her daughter. “Thanks, Mom. I’m happy for you and Tillie. But I think I’ll go back to bed.”

Josie slept until the next call woke her at nine o’clock. “Hello,” she said, her voice husky with sleep.

“Damn, Josie, you sound sexy,” Ted said. “I wondered if you’d like some food before our walk. What are you hungry for?”

“Not Italian,” Josie said. “I wore it yesterday.”

Ted laughed. “Let me guess—you’ve also had your fill of local grease after your TAG Tour work.”

“Congratulations! You win a date with Josie Marcus,” she said.

“Then let me take you to one of the city’s best restaurants. We can go to Saturday brunch. There’s a wait, but it’s worth it. The
New York Times
says so.”

“What do I wear to a restaurant that makes the
New York Times
wait?” Josie asked.

“Same thing you’d wear for a walk in Tower Grove Park,” Ted said. “How soon can you be ready?”

“Give me half an hour,” Josie said as she hung up.

Before she could start dressing, her phone rang again.

“Alyce,” Josie said. “What are you doing calling on a Saturday?”

“Jake’s still asleep,” she said. “I’m finished prepping the filled pancakes. Justin and I are eating apple slices until Daddy wakes up.

“Congratulations. I saw the morning news. Tillie’s free. They showed her leaving the county jail. She looks ten years younger. That detective claimed good police work solved the case, but I suspect you had something to do with it.”

“A little,” Josie said, and told her friend about Henrietta and Jeff’s capture. “Mom and Stuart Little came in like the cavalry. Ted was there, too.”

“Do I finally get to congratulate you on your engagement?” Alyce asked.

“No,” Josie said.

The silence stretched all the way from Maplewood to Alyce’s home in Wood Winds.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Alyce asked. “Have you two broken up?”

“Not yet,” Josie said. “I think he may ask me today. But I’m going to tell him no.”

“Why? Josie Marcus, you’d better have a good explanation. You said you love him.”

“I do,” Josie said. “But Henrietta loved Clay.”

“You don’t know that,” Alyce interrupted.

“Well, she married him and she killed him. I’m safer being single.”

“That’s why you’re saying no?” Alyce’s anger roared down the phone line. “You’re afraid? Josie, when you were pregnant with Amelia, did you ever think your baby would grow up and kill you?”

“Of course not,” Josie said. “I was worried about a lot of things, including whether I’d be a good mother. But I never imagined my baby could be a killer.”

“But it happens,” Alyce said. “How many times have you seen on the news where a child kills his parent? But you had Amelia, and she’s a beautiful daughter.”

“Yes, but—”

“You’ve known Ted for more than a year. He’s a gentle man, Josie. He’s never hurt any creature, human or animal. I’ve known you for years. When your love life goes sour, you don’t kill the guy. You walk away. That’s what you’ll do this time, except it won’t happen. Have the courage to be happy, Josie. Please?”

Josie didn’t say anything.

“Josie?”

“I promise,” Josie said.

“Good. Now promise me I’ll be your matron of honor,” Alyce said.

“He hasn’t asked me yet,” Josie said.

“He will.Trust me. Justin! What are you doing? Bruiser doesn’t like apples. Take that slice out of his mouth right now. No, don’t eat it! I’ve got to go,” Alyce said.

Josie was laughing when her friend hung up. She still had to get dressed for her date. Josie saw the sun pouring through the hall window, turning the white walls a warm gold. Outside, a woman was walking her miniature poodle. She wore a T-shirt, so the day wasn’t too cool. Josie wondered if Amelia had pegged that dog owner as a potential customer.

Amelia! What am I doing, making a date like a single woman? I’m a single mother. Who’s going to watch my daughter while I run around like a giddy teenager?

Jane can watch her, Josie decided. She owes me.

Jane must have felt the same way. She happily volunteered to take care of Amelia. “We’ll have a cooking class,” Jane said. “Amelia wants to learn how to brine a chicken.”

“Do you have a chicken?” Josie asked.

“No, we’ll go to the store and pick out a nice plump roaster,” Jane said. “Amelia can tell me what else she wants to cook. We’ll do some serious grocery shopping.”

“Good,” Josie said, and meant it. If Jane was spending money on groceries, she couldn’t give it to bogus charities.

As if she’d heard Josie’s thoughts, Jane added, “I called Mrs. Mueller and Mrs. Gruenloh. They both got those government letters. I’m glad it wasn’t just me. When do you need to leave, Josie?”

“Ted will be here in fifteen minutes,” Josie said.

“I’ll be right down. We’ll work on a shopping list together.”

Josie heard thumps, giggles, and growls coming from Amelia’s bedroom. She leaned against the open door and watched her daughter drag a catnip mouse across the floor by its tail. Harry pounced on it, then attacked the pretend mouse with real ferocity. Amelia laughed.

“Morning, Mom.” Amelia’s sullen mood was gone. She was Josie’s little girl again, but her mother knew that stage was nearly over.

“Grandma wants to teach you how to brine a chicken,” Josie said.

“Good. That deviled egg casserole was gross.”

“It was a little heavy,” Josie said. “Grandma wants to go grocery shopping this morning. She says you should think about what meat you’d like to cook.”

“Where did Grandma get the money for meat?” Amelia asked. There it was, that sudden shift into adulthood. Soon she would cross that border and stay there.

“I don’t know, but she’ll be here shortly. I’m going to brunch with Ted. Have a good time.”

Josie decided on dressy casual for her date. She put on her good black pants, a white knit top, and a blue-and-white silk scarf. She brushed her hair until it shone and noticed the stab wound in her shoulder didn’t hurt. She felt good, better than she had in a long time. She’d finished a tough mystery-shopping assignment. She’d solved a murder. She’d outwitted two killers.

If you’re so smart, why can’t you find your purse? she asked herself. Josie searched her bedroom and her bathroom, then the kitchen, before she unearthed the purse behind the couch. She heard a car pull up outside the flat, peeked out the window, and saw Ted.

Josie didn’t wait for him to walk to her front door. “Bye!” she called to Amelia and ran out into the sunshine.

Ted met her halfway and kissed her while Mrs. Mueller scowled at them. Josie waved at the old sourpuss.

They drove off into a day bright with possibility.

Chapter 39

Many outsiders saw St. Louis as one more redbrick city interested in those Midwest staples—beer, beef, and baseball.

Baseball, yes. St. Louis was definitely a baseball town, especially when the Cardinals were going to the playoffs.

Josie liked a cold beer, too. Like many St. Louisans, she never forgave the Busch family for selling their brewery to a Belgian company. She joined the city’s growing trend toward craft beers. Schlafly was now the city’s largest homegrown brewery. Tom Schlafly and his Bottleworks hadn’t deserted Maplewood, so she remained faithful to his beer.

Josie was proud that her city was a foodies’ hidden paradise. It didn’t matter that she could barely scramble an egg. St. Louisans loved good restaurants and believed in recreational dining. They spent long evenings over dinner, savoring new dishes. They debated who had the finest northern Italian food, which restaurant served the best grilled skate wing, who had the most innovative locally grown food.

In its quiet way, St. Louis had places that catered to locavores. Winslow’s Home was one. The refurbished 1920s brick storefront had stained glass panels over its long windows and a bicycle rack out front.

“Nearly every slot in the bike rack is taken,” Josie said. “Are we going to get a table?”

“It’s ten o’clock. We shouldn’t have to wait more than fifteen or twenty minutes,” Ted said. “This is probably the last sunny fall Saturday left. There’s supposed to be a hard freeze tomorrow.”

Ted opened the door for Josie and said, “So what do you think?”

Josie had never seen a place like this. She liked the gleaming wood floors and pressed-tin ceiling. The old-fashioned glass cases and shelves were crammed with crockery, children’s books, coffee beans, laundry soap, and pasta sauce. There was a cooler of craft beer and an entire room of wine.

Josie saw interesting oddities everywhere, from tiddlywinks to Belgian linens. Freshly baked cinnamon rolls, brownies, and chocolate chip cookies called to her. The air was perfumed with coffee and syrup and thick with kitchen clatter and diners’ chatter.

“What is it?” she asked. “It looks like part restaurant and part variety store.”

“It’s supposed to be a new American general store,” Ted said. “That’s what they call themselves.” He was as proud of the place as if he’d created it.

BOOK: Death on a Platter

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