High Heels Are Murder (31 page)

Josie thought he seemed familiar, but he looked like a lot of dads: nice, quiet, a bit of office pudge around the middle. A skinny boy, all arms and freckles, bumped into him. The man’s baseball cap slid sideways, exposing his balding forehead.

Josie had seen that man—or at least his photos. “You’re Cheryl’s husband, Tom,” she blurted.

The nice man turned on her. His mild face was gone, replaced by a snarling, threatening mask. “Where is it?” he said.

“What?” Josie had expected an introduction or an “Excuse me?” Not this rude demand.

“Don’t play games,” Tom said, his voice a crazy hiss. “I want it. Now.”

Josie looked at his face, bright red with rage. Suddenly, pudgy Tom looked like he crunched more than numbers. What was wrong with him? He’d gone from dad to madman. The strain of Cheryl’s ordeal must have sent him over the edge.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. She didn’t, either.

“Sure you do,” he said. “The DVD. Are you going to blackmail us like Mel did?”

Josie was shocked and hurt by his accusation. “Where did you get that idea?”

“My mother-in-law said you wouldn’t give it to her.”

“I said I’d have to think about it. I’d be breaking the law if I let her destroy it.”

“So what’s it going to cost me?” His voice was a snarl, but it was weary, too. Tom looked old and drained. Cheryl had taken everything, and given him nothing.

“No,” Josie said. “Tom, I’m not like that.”

“Then give it to me.” His flat, menacing tone was an odd contrast to the happy kids’ high-pitched squeals.

“I don’t have it. Not with me.”

“Let’s go get it.” His hands, soft and slightly sweaty, were clamped down on her shoulders. “Now.”

“I can’t,” Josie said, trying to break free. “I’m here with my daughter and her friends.”

“If you want to see them alive, you’ll come with me.” He tried to drag her toward the exit.

“Help!” Josie cried. No one noticed. She was surrounded by tumbling, laughing children yelling, “Help! Stop! Oh, God, I’m going to die!” No one noticed her serious cries for help in the midst of the pretend ones.

“Scream again,” he said in that hissing whisper, “and I’ll go after your daughter next. She’s the one with the dark hair, am I right?”

He was. “Tom, you’ve been under a lot of stress with Cheryl,” Josie said. “We’ll just forget about this.”

She felt something hard poking her side. “I’ve got a gun. You’re coming to my car,” he said. “Then we’re going to get that DVD.”

“Tom, don’t do this. I’m not going anywhere with you. There’s no reason for you to carry on this way.” She stopped. “Do you drive a black car?”

“So what?” he said.

She almost blurted out, “There was a black car parked outside Mel’s place the night he died. You killed him for this DVD.” But she caught herself just in time and said nothing.

It was too late. Tom had seen her freeze when she mentioned the car. He could read her thoughts and see her fear.

“You think I killed Mel for the DVD, don’t you? You’re out of your mind,” Tom said.

He didn’t deny it. He called Josie insane, the one insult that would make any woman crazy. Josie knew that her wild leap of logic was true. She looked over at her daughter. Amelia had no idea her mother was being threatened. She and her two friends were laughing themselves silly on the slide. Good. As long as they didn’t
know what Tom was up to, they were safe. She flashed them a wobbly smile.

“Come on, keep moving,” Tom said. He hit her in the ribs with his weapon. “Cheryl always said—”

Right in midsentence, Josie kicked him hard in the knee. The shock and pain made him let go of her. Josie stepped back and fell down the slide, tumbling end over end. She landed at the bottom with a dazed thud.

Courtney and Emma cheered. Amelia clapped. “Sweet, Mom,” she said.

Josie sat up woozily and saw Tom running through the crowd, pushing people out of his way. She charged up the curved slide, but fell back just as she reached the top.

“Mom!” Amelia said. “You’re such a klutz. You’ve got to try again.”

Josie was furious that Tom was getting away. She made another, harder run and threw herself over the top. This time she made it. She lay there, panting. She could hear Amelia and Courtney applauding. “Way to go, Mom!”

They still didn’t know Tom was trying to get the DVD from her. As long as they didn’t tumble to it, they were safe. She had to keep them that way. She pushed Amelia over the slide. “Your turn,” she said, sending Emma and Courtney after her daughter. The girls laughed and cheered.

“Wait there,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

The girls were too busy playing to notice her leave. Good. Josie saw no sign of Tom in the shrieking welter of parents and kids. Then she spotted a little girl leaning against a wall, crying, “That mean man pushed me.”

“Was he wearing a baseball cap?” Josie said.

The little girl nodded and wiped her tearstained face with her shirt.

“He’s a bad man, honey,” Josie said. “You stay here. Which way did he go?”

The girl pointed to a door marked
EMPLOYEES ONLY
. “In there.”

Josie ran toward the door. “Gun!” she shouted, pointing at the figure disappearing through the open door.
That word cut through all the pretend cries and joking pleas. “Gun!” she cried again. “Guy in the baseball cap. He has a gun. He’s a killer.”

The room seemed to be roiling with men in baseball caps, all trying to look harmless. A woman screamed as a man in a Cardinals cap moved toward her. Someone yelled, “Call 911. Call security.” Some parents grabbed their children. Others hauled out their cell phones. A few men removed their ball caps. No one went after Tom.

“He’s in there,” Josie screamed, and ran for the door. She couldn’t let him escape. He’d threatened her daughter. He could hurt a child, or take one hostage. He’d already killed two people. Cheryl’s husband was a killer. Museum security would be along soon. All she had to do was keep Tom in sight until they arrived. Then the folks with the guns could handle the rabid CPA.

The
EMPLOYEES ONLY
door opened onto an inside staircase. Josie heard footsteps running up the stairs. Tom. That had to be Tom. Anger made her take the stairs two at a time. She wasn’t frightened. He couldn’t shoot her in the stairway. His bullets would go wild, ricocheting on the steps.

Josie chased Tom to the top of the stairs, but he stayed just out of reach. She heard a door crash open. Had he kicked it? She came out on the roof at her favorite part, where the yellow school bus hung over the side of the building. That section was deserted.

Thank God, Josie thought. He can’t hurt anyone else up here.

“Don’t come any closer.” Tom’s voice came in jagged rasps. He was standing on the edge of the roof, one leg over the protective railing. A gust of wind blew his baseball cap off. Josie tried not to watch it spin toward the street, far below. She couldn’t let him jump. What if the children going into the museum saw his falling body? The sight would haunt them forever.

“I’m going to end it all,” Tom said, his voice high and cracked by hysteria. “I’m insured. It pays even if I kill myself. It’s the least I can do for my family.”

“Tom, don’t! I’ll give you the DVD,” she said.

“It’s too late for that,” Tom said. “I followed you here. I was going to kidnap you for the DVD. I didn’t care if I killed you. I had to have that DVD.”

“Why?” Josie asked. But she didn’t wait for Tom to answer. “You went to Mel’s house to make him give you Cheryl’s DVD. You didn’t mean to kill him. You wanted to save your wife.”

“That’s it!” Tom sounded desperate to convince her—and himself. “I’m no killer. I didn’t even want to kill you. I’m glad I failed.”

“Me, too,” Josie said. He really wanted to kill her? Maybe she should let him jump. No, she had to think about all those kids on field trips down below.

“I’m a failure at everything,” he wept. “I tried and tried to please Cheryl. Nothing worked.”

Josie remembered the photos of Tom on the stairs of his house and felt a pang of pity. In each picture he was a little balder, a little heavier, and a lot more unhappy. Now he was a complete wreck, his armpits dark with sweat, his pants wrinkled, his bald scalp shining through the combed-over shreds of hair.

“Cheryl complained I didn’t show my true feelings,” Tom said. “She got me all these magazine articles about sensitivity and expressing my feelings. I’m not good at that. I flunked the quizzes. I’m not romantic. I’m a bean counter. But I knew how much she wanted new furniture, so I worked all those hours to get her what she wanted. She said I should be more romantic. I tried to give her that, too. But I was so tired, every time I hit the sack, I fell asleep.

“Then I found out she had hooked up with Mel and he was blackmailing her with that DVD. I couldn’t believe what that creep made those women do.”

Did Tom know about Cheryl’s gambling? Josie wondered. She was afraid to interrupt.

“How did you find out about it?” Josie said.

“I’m more in touch with my feelings than she gives me credit for,” Tom said. “Also, I listened in on the kitchen extension one night when she called Fiona. I knew I had to save my wife. I went to Mel’s house to confront him.”

“How did you get past the guards at the gate?” Josie asked.

“I have a number of clients in Olympia Park. I have a gate pass.”

Of course. Josie remembered his mother-in-law bragging about his elite clientele.

“I didn’t go there to kill him,” Tom said. “I just wanted the DVD. But when Mel said those things about my wife, I hit him. Hard. Then I really got in touch with my feelings. I hit the bastard over the head with a paperweight again and again and he fell down the steps. He was dead and I felt good about it. I looked for the DVD, but I couldn’t find it, so I got out of there.”

“You didn’t know Cheryl was in the house, drugged?” Josie said.

“No. The doors to the parlor were closed.”

“What did Mel say that made you so angry?” Josie asked.

“He said he’d had my wife in ways I’d never dreamed.”

Josie could see why a husband might kill the man who said that. But she couldn’t understand why Tom let his wife go to jail.

“Why didn’t you tell the police? You didn’t plan the murder. It was extreme provocation.”

“If I confessed, who would take care of Cheryl and Ben? If she was convicted, I’d come forward, but our lawyer thought she could beat the rap.”

Beat the rap? The gangster words coming from domestic Tom made her want to laugh.

“You were going to put your wife through a trial?” Josie said.

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t know how to stop it. I never thought it would go this far. Then I tried to get the DVD back the other night and I made it worse.”

“Zinnia,” Josie said.

“That was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill her. She fell down the steps trying to get away from me. I am such a screwup. I just wanted everything to go back the way it was. But it can’t. It gets worse and worse. Now
the housekeeper is dead, too. My family is better off if I’m dead.”

Tom put his other leg over the barrier. He was teetering on the edge of the roof, holding on to the barrier with one hand. His shirt flapped up in the wind, exposing his fat white belly. He looked like a frightened, balding baby.

Josie felt sick with fear. She tried to keep her voice soft and calm. “Tom, please don’t. We’ll work it out. I won’t say anything to the police. I’ll forget about the gun you pulled on me.”

“I don’t really have a gun,” he said. “I just pointed my BlackBerry at you.”

“That’s good,” Josie said. “That was smart. See, you do lots of smart things. Now step back over the barrier and we’ll find a way to free Cheryl. We’ll work it out.”

“You promise?”

“Absolutely,” Josie said.

Tom put one leg over the railing, teetering slightly. Josie held her breath. Then the other leg was over. He was safe on the roof. Josie heaved a sigh. Cheryl wasn’t going to be a widow. Ben wouldn’t be an orphan.

“Tom, you did a brave thing,” Josie said. “I’m proud of you.”

“You are?” Tom stood straighter at her words. A passing cloud shadowed in his bald spot, and for just a moment Josie caught a glimpse of the handsome, confident man Cheryl had married.

Then two cops rushed out on the roof and arrested him for murder.

Josie should have been exhausted after her adventures at the City Museum. Instead, she felt invigorated. Saving a man’s life was a heady experience.

She had no idea if or when Cheryl would be released. That was Mrs. Mueller’s problem. Josie had her own daughter to worry about. She made her statement to the police and avoided the press. A mystery shopper did not need her face flashed all over town.

“You were sweet, Mom, chasing that killer,” Amelia said. “You didn’t tell us, so we didn’t get worried. And you ran after a guy with a gun. Nobody else’s mother did that.”

High praise indeed. Josie packed her daughter off to Emma’s party. She saw Amelia greeted enthusiastically by her friends. She trailed a little of her mother’s stardust.

Josie felt like she could leap tall buildings and lift them, too. Tonight was the night—her long-awaited date with Josh. She hummed as she got ready. Josie knew she looked smashing in her black dress.

Josh confirmed it when he picked her up at eight o’clock. “Wow. I’m supposed to say something sophisticated, but ‘wow’ is all I can manage. You look incredible.”

“You look pretty hot yourself,” Josie said. “Is that Armani you’re wearing?”

“You must be a mystery shopper,” he said. “Tonight
you will know all the secrets of my wardrobe.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “That was a butterfly kiss. It’s my hint for where we’re having dinner.”

“Butterfly? You’re taking me to Monarch?”

“Closest thing to New York in St. Louis,” he said. “I won’t have to think of anything sophisticated. The restaurant will say it for me.”

They dined on duck confit served on flatbread, black bass rolled in hazelnuts, and risotto with truffle oil. Josh ordered an outrageously expensive wine.