Death on a Platter (8 page)

“It will,” Josie said. “Tillie has lots of friends. Do you want us to walk Stuart Little?”

“I’ve already walked the dog. He’s asleep,” Jane said. “I’ll call you if I stay with Tillie all night. I’d better go. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Jane marched to the backyard garage. Her small, determined figure seemed prepared to fight the entire River Bluff force.

“Your mom is unstoppable,” Ted said.

“I pity the River Bluff police,” Josie said.

She surveyed the kitchen table, carefully set with the good dishes and cloth napkins. A fat bronze mum floated in a shallow bowl as a centerpiece. Josie hugged her daughter. “Good job on the table. Your new pink jeggings look nice. You’re slender enough to wear them, Amelia.”

“Mel,” her daughter corrected.

Josie also noticed Amelia had attempted to cover the freckles on her nose with Josie’s makeup. She’d talk to her about that later.

Ted set a plate with a grilled filet in front of Josie and said, “Sit down. You must be exhausted.”

“Not too tired to admire this dinner,” Josie said. “It’s like a magazine photo. See how the melted butter drips down the brown skin of the baked potato. The green beans add contrasting color on the blue plate.”

“Red wine or iced tea to complete the picture?” Ted asked.

“Wine,” Josie said as she cut a triangle out of her filet. It was medium rare, just the way she liked it.

Between bites, she told Ted about Clay, Gemma Lynn, Tillie, Lorena, and the other characters in the restaurant drama. She toned down Clay’s affair with Gemma Lynn. Amelia didn’t need to hear every sordid detail.

“Enough about me,” Josie said. “Tell me about your day. What happened at the clinic, Ted?”

“I should talk to the animals,” Ted said. “I don’t do as well with humans. One of my regulars, Ryan, brought in his bichon. Brie is a sweet dog, but she weighs twenty-seven pounds.”

“Isn’t that a little hefty for a bichon?” Josie asked.

“A little? The dog is fat and Ryan knows it. I’ve told him so often he’s sensitive about his dog’s weight. He’s a good owner, except he overfeeds her. He brought in Brie because she had a lump on her thigh. I examined it and said, ‘It’s just a fatty tumor. Nothing to worry about.’

“Ryan looked stricken and said, ‘But she’s on a diet.’ I had to explain that fatty tumors have nothing to do with weight.”

“You must have really scared him,” Josie said.

“I have to,” Ted said. “People think it’s cute to overfeed their pets; then they’re devastated when the poor animals die. They eat and eat until they ruin their health.”

“Sort of like people,” Josie said. “Like this person, anyway. I’ve cleaned up everything on my plate.”

“Good,” Ted said. “You’re not overweight. You need to keep up your strength. I hope you’ve saved room for Mel’s brownies.”

Amelia rewarded him with a dazzling smile for remembering her name.

“No way I’ll miss those,” Josie said.

She made coffee while Amelia dished out the brownies. Josie and Ted said no to vanilla ice cream on the side, but gave Amelia heaping helpings of praise for her baking.

After dinner, Ted and Amelia cleared the table while Josie loaded the dishwasher.

“Are we finished?” Amelia asked, hanging up her dish towel. “I have to do homework and let Harry out of the bathroom.”

“I’m impressed,” Ted said, when she disappeared down the hall. “Mel went straight to her homework after dinner.”

“I suspect she’s really texting her friends,” Josie said. “But she’ll do homework in between. More coffee? More wine?”

“Just coffee,” Ted said.

They settled in on the living room sofa with their cups. Josie rested in the crook of Ted’s arm, sipping her coffee. She felt content.

“This isn’t such a bad day after all,” she said. “Thanks for being so thoughtful.” She kissed his cheek.

He kissed her back, a deeper kiss. Josie glanced down the hall to make sure that Amelia’s bedroom door was shut and settled back into the comfortable couch for more kisses.

“I’m glad you wanted to spend time with me,” Ted said. “Did I ever tell you that white blouses are sexy?”

His fingers were unbuttoning the buttons and he was kissing Josie’s neck when the front door burst open.

Josie sat up, pulled her blouse shut, and stared at a wild-eyed Jane standing in her living room.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Tillie,” Jane said. “Clay died an hour ago. The police arrested Tillie.”

“Arrested!” Ted said. “What for?”

Josie was scrambling to arrange her clothes. Jane was so distraught she hadn’t bothered to knock. She’d opened Josie’s front door and charged straight into the living room. She was too upset to notice that Josie and Ted had been making out on the couch like teenagers.

Ted smoothed down his tousled brown hair and tucked in his shirt.

“The police say she committed a felony,” Jane said. “They arrested her for reckless endangerment.”

“What’s that?” Josie asked. She fastened a crucial button on her blouse.

“As I understand it, that means Tillie showed a—” Jane stopped for a moment, as if searching her memory, then recited, “A heedless disregard for potential results. Because she put cayenne pepper in Clay’s sauce.”

“But he asked her to,” Josie said. “No, he demanded it. I heard him say it.”

“It’s still reckless endangerment,” Jane said. “Cayenne pepper juice is strong. Tillie has to wear gloves when she chops up those peppers. The juice burns if it gets into any cuts in her hands. A young waiter got some in his eye and had to go to the ER to have it flushed out. That juice is like acid. The cops don’t know this, but Tillie told me she doubled the pepper juice.

“Tillie didn’t mean to hurt him, but the law says that doesn’t make any difference,” Jane said. “He’s dead, just the same.”

“But Clay wanted his sauce extra hot,” Josie repeated.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jane said. “All the police have to do is prove Tillie didn’t care about the damage she could cause.”

Josie tucked in her blouse while Jane paced the living room. “Tillie wouldn’t kill anyone,” her mother said. “She’s been my friend since she was six years old. She’s a good, careful cook.”

Who desperately wanted rid of a bad customer, Josie thought.

Josie’s agitated mother kept running her fingers through her short hair. She used enough hairspray to keep her hair in place during a tornado. Now, instead of her usual silver helmet, Jane’s hair stood up in stiff spikes, as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.

“Mom, sit and try to calm down.”

To stop her mother’s frantic movements, Josie held her. She could feel the rigid muscles in Jane’s shoulders. Josie feared she would worry herself sick. She smoothed her mother’s hair back in place. Jane would have been mortified if she knew that the small bald spot at the top of her head was exposed.

Jane shook herself free and asked, “How can the police be so stupid?”

She marched around the coffee table. Ted pulled in his long legs and Jane completed her circuit. “How could they possibly think Tillie would poison that man?” she asked. “This will kill her. Just kill her.”

Josie blocked her mother’s next lap around the living room. She saw tears in Jane’s eyes. “Tillie’s smart and tough, Mom. Let’s have some coffee and talk about it.”

“I don’t want more coffee,” Jane said sharply. “I’ve had enough.”

“Some wine?”

“No!” Jane was as wired as a stadium scoreboard.

Josie glanced at Ted and raised an eyebrow. He saw Josie’s silent signal for help and disappeared into the kitchen.

Josie was relieved to see that Ted’s clothes were now in place. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Jane had interrupted them. Amelia was right down the hall. What if her daughter had opened her bedroom door and caught her mother on the couch? An eleven-year-old didn’t need to see that scene.

“At least sit down, Mom,” Josie said. “You’re wearing yourself out pacing around.”

“All I’ve done is sit!” Jane said. But she plopped down in the easy chair, unwound her scarf, and unbuttoned her coat. Her hands trembled slightly with the buttons.

“No, you didn’t sit,” Josie said. “You helped Tillie when she needed you. That’s hard work.”

“Helped, my eye,” Jane said. “Tillie was arrested anyway.”

Josie felt sick. She and Alyce had watched Tillie kill Clay. His death had been an accident, but Clay was never going to be in the bar again. That made it worse for Tillie.

“The police took Tillie away in a squad car like a criminal,” Jane said. “At least they didn’t handcuff her.”

“She’s in jail?” Josie asked.

“Her lawyer got her out on bail. Lorena and I had to go to the bail bondsman’s place. It was a nasty little office full of criminals. They had tattoos and bad teeth. One had his beard braided.”

“He might have been a biker, Mom. Some of them braid their beards so the long hair doesn’t blow in their faces when they ride.”

“Well, Tillie doesn’t belong in a group with braided beards. We got her a bail of one thousand dollars. We had to pay one hundred to the bondsman and put up a thousand in collateral. The bail bondsman took the title to Tillie’s new Cadillac. He said an old lady was a safe bet.

“I got mad and said she wasn’t old. She’s only seventy-six. That’s my age.” Jane stuck out her jaw in a gesture of defiance. She looked as tough as a teddy bear.

Josie fought to hide a smile. She’d learned not to underestimate her mother. “I don’t think of you as old, Mom—or Tillie, either. She has to be strong to work those long hours in that restaurant. Who is her lawyer?”

“Some character called Renzo Fischer,” Jane said. “Tillie says he’s an old customer.”

“Good,” Josie said. “He’s the best.”

“At what? Eating ravioli?” Jane was still wound up. “He looked odd to me. Tillie called him as soon as she heard that Clay was in a bad way. Mr. Fischer came over to her house an hour later. I know that’s a nice thing for a big deal lawyer to do. He talked to Tillie before the police arrived and advised her to give herself up, which she was going to do anyway. I hope he doesn’t charge her for that advice.”

“Can Tillie afford him, Mom?” Josie asked. “Did Renzo want her to mortgage the restaurant?”

“That was the first question out of Lorena’s mouth. That girl is useless, even if she is Tillie’s daughter. No, Mr. Fischer wouldn’t hear of her mortgaging anything. He said he expected to eat free there for the rest of his life.”

“Then he’d better live to be a very old man,” Josie said. “Good defense lawyers aren’t cheap. Renzo sounds like a good guy. What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t like his looks,” Jane said. “He dresses like a clown in cowboy boots, a string tie, and a ten-gallon hat. This is St. Louis, not the Wild West.”

“He’s an old-school trial lawyer, Mom. They’re theatrical. They dress for a part. Renzo has cast himself as John Wayne riding in on his white horse to save innocent clients. Juries love Renzo. He’s different from the dull corporate lawyers in suits. Renzo will make the jury root for Tillie. If anyone can save her, he can.”

“I hope so, Josie. I can’t believe the way she’s being treated. Everybody in St. Louis knows Tillie. She’s fed the police for years. None of them died from her food, not even the ones who wanted her sauce extra hot. Now the cops have turned on her.”

“They’re doing their job,” Josie said. “If they gave her special treatment, it could be worse for her. Do the cops know what killed Clay?”

“No,” Jane said. “It’s too early for the autopsy results.”

“Too bad Tillie said she wanted rid of Clay,” Josie said. She heard Ted moving around in the kitchen.

“You didn’t tell the police Tillie said that, did you?” Jane asked.

“I had to,” Josie said. “The whole restaurant heard her. The police wouldn’t have believed me if I didn’t mention it. But I also told the detective that Chef Jeff wanted his job back and Tillie said he’d been helping himself to her cash, so he knows Jeff was angry at her. And I mentioned that Desmond wanted to buy Tillie’s restaurant for a new casino. I gave the police two more killers to consider.”

“Well, they didn’t,” Jane said. “They arrested her anyway. They said neither one would use Tillie’s pepper juice.”

Ted appeared with a cup, a plate, and a napkin. “I know you’re a coffee drinker, Jane,” he said. “But I’ve made you some chamomile tea. It’s caffeine-free and supposed to be soothing. You should have some of Amelia’s brownies, too. You need sugar after your ordeal.”

Jane smiled at Ted. “Thank you. Most doctors tell me
not
to eat sugar.”

“My patients are animals,” Ted said. “But I don’t need a medical degree to see you’ve had a rough time.”

Jane took a ladylike bite of a brownie, then wolfed down the rest of it. Three brownies and half a cup of tea later, she patted her lips daintily with the paper napkin and was ready to resume the conversation.

“There. That’s better. Josie, I don’t understand why you’re defending the police.”

Josie warned herself to tread carefully. She knew she’d stepped into dangerous territory. “Mom, Tillie admitted putting cayenne pepper juice in Clay’s dipping sauce and now he’s dead.”

“Tillie didn’t mean to kill him,” Jane said. “She called his wife because she knew Henrietta would drag him out of there.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Josie said. “He’s still dead, Mom.”

“That’s what Renzo said,” Jane told her. “I expected better from you. My friend has a police record. A rap sheet!”

“That’s why I’m glad she has a good lawyer,” Josie said.

“She shouldn’t have been arrested at all. Someone else killed Clay.”

“I sure hope so,” Josie said.

“That’s why I want you to find who did it.”

“Me! I’m not a professional investigator.” Josie saw she’d missed a button on her chest and fastened it before Jane noticed.