Moss Hysteria (24 page)

“Still,” I said, “a woman doesn't ram another woman's car unless she's extremely angry. And why would she be angry at you for stopping in front of her house?”

Mitzi kept her gaze on the TV. “Her father has dementia. She might be getting it.”

“Mitzi,” Marco said. He waited until she turned toward him, then asked in a gentle voice, “Were you at Sarah's house to convince her husband to come see us?”

At that Mitzi broke into sobs, covering her face with her hands. “I was pleading for his help, Marco.”

I plucked a tissue from the box on her side table and shoved it in her hand. “What happened?”

She dabbed carefully beneath her eyes. “Sarah was supposed to be attending a baby shower, but she came home early and heard me talking to Tom. It was horrible, Abby. She screamed at me and threw things and then chased me out of the house. I ran to my car. Then she came after me in
her
car.” Mitzi started sobbing again. “I could've been killed. As it is, I may be in a wheelchair for life.”

“What did Sarah overhear?” Marco asked.

“Me pleading with Tom to see you this afternoon. I don't know why she reacted so strongly. I never said exactly why I wanted him to talk to you. It could have been for any reason . . . maybe to ask you how to mix the perfect martini. Sarah's crazy, that's all. She's on blood pressure medicine. She might have suffered a stroke.”

I rolled my eyes at Marco.

“Is it possible Sarah heard you ask Tom to be your alibi witness?” Marco asked.

“Anything's possible,” she replied with a childish pout.

“Mitzi,” Marco said, “we need the truth.”

Sniffling, she tried to reach for the box of tissues and couldn't, so I handed her a fresh one. She blew her nose then said, “Sarah might have heard something to that effect. But Sarah hears voices anyway. She used to see a therapist, so you really can't count on what she hears. Would a sane person ram another person's vehicle? Has anyone considered that I'm the victim here?”

“Sarah's husband isn't going to help you, is he?” I asked.

“My head hurts. I need a pain pill.” She pressed the call button on her bed controls repeatedly. “You'd better leave. The doctor said I shouldn't have any stress. There's swelling in my brain, and stress makes it worse. I'm getting dizzy.
Where
is that
nurse
?”

“Will your husband be home to look after you when you're released?” I asked as we moved toward the door.

“He won't be home until Friday. Nurse? Nurse!” She hit the button with her fist. “Doesn't this thing work?”

“We'll send in a nurse,” I said. “Who's looking after your dog?”

“Deloris Reynolds. The Reynoldses are good neighbors. Unlike my ex-friend Sarah Burns. Unlike Theda Coros.
She
killed Dirk.
She's
the one you need to question.”

“One more thing,” Marco said, as a nurse hurried in. “You mentioned earlier that this is Theda's fault. How so?”

“I'll tell you how so,” Mitzi said indignantly. “She's the one who told Sarah to come home early.”

“I
t's unbelievable how Mitzi always makes herself out to be the victim,” I said as we walked out of the hospital. “She cheated with her best friend's husband and will probably be responsible for breaking up their marriage, and yet she wants us to feel sorry for her.”

“It takes two to cheat,” Marco said. “Where were Tom Burns's brains?”

“I think we know that answer. I'm telling you, Marco, Mitzi is sneaky and devious. She lies as easily as she breathes. My radar was going crazy in her room.”

“I'll agree about the sneaky and devious, but
my
gut still says she's not the killer.”

I linked my arm through Marco's and said teasingly, “Like your gut said your mom was in danger?”

“I'm going to ignore that”—his mouth curved up at the corners—“for now.”

Dropping my voice to a husky whisper, I ran my hand up Marco's arm. “We don't have to spend the evening at my folks' house, you know. We could stay home instead and explore this subject further.”

“Don't tempt me, woman,” he replied playfully, “or I'll take you home right now.”

“I don't have a problem with that. Do
you
have a problem with that?”

“Yes.” He locked my hand between his. “We have another stop to make.”

“Where?”

“The jail. I'm going to phone Reilly and see if he can get us in to see Sarah. I'd like to hear her take on this while it's still fresh in her mind.”

That wasn't the thought that was fresh in
my
mind, but I understood Marco's urgency.

“You know what puzzles me?” he asked. “Theda's involvement.”

“We don't know that Theda was involved, Marco. You know how Mitzi lies.”

“But just suppose Mitzi
is
telling the truth. What would've prompted Theda to make sure Sarah got home when she did? Is it possible she knew Mitzi and Tom were alone at his house?”

“This is why I think Mitzi is lying. I don't believe Theda would deliberately hurt Sarah.”

“Don't be too quick to dismiss the idea, Sunshine. Theda told us she'd been on that side of the pond for a walk after the accident happened. Maybe she was there earlier, witnessed Mitzi sneaking into the house, and wanted to do something about it. This is why we need to talk to Sarah. Because if Theda
was
the instigator here, it makes me wonder what else she's been up to.”

I said crossly, “You're sure making a case against her.”

“I'm sorry if that bothers you, Abby, but consider this. Except for what we witnessed with our own eyes, nearly every incriminating detail we know about the crime has come from Theda, including the black Ford sedan she saw on the evening of the murder. Has anyone else in the neighborhood seen a car like that? No. Who said Dirk didn't make the meeting that Friday evening? Who reported that Dirk drowned a cat? Who told us Dirk wanted Rye fired? Who saw Dirk entering Mitzi's house with wine and candy? And now we have Theda sending Sarah home to conveniently discover her husband with Mitzi.”

I had nothing to offer in Theda's defense except a gut feeling that was growing weaker by the day.

Marco punched in a number then put his phone to his ear. “Hey, Sean. How's it going, man? Yeah, same here. Listen, I need a favor.”

While he was talking, I pulled out my phone and called Theda to tell her we'd be a little longer than I'd planned. What I didn't say was that it was mostly because of her.

•   •   •

We got lucky. Not only was Reilly able to get us access to Sarah, but Patty, my favorite jail matron, was on duty. She had been fond of my dad while he was on the force, and that fondness got transferred directly to me, so I'd been able to tap her for a favor or two in the past. Now she gave me a hug, then patted me down and did the same with Marco, chewing gum and talking nonstop the whole time.

“You are so lucky I came in to work today, kiddo, 'cause otherwise you would'a got Maxine, and she's got a stare so icy she can freeze fire. I'm telling ya.”

She kept up the monologue until she put us into the visitation room and left to get Sarah. Ten minutes later, she delivered a shell-shocked young woman in shackles and wearing an orange jumpsuit. Her honey brown hair was in a fancy updo, quite at odds with the rest of her ensemble.

Patty directed her to a chair on the other side of a clear partition directly across from us. Sarah sat down and scooted the chair close to the white laminate counter. She looked pale and frightened. “Are you here to get me out?”

“Your lawyer will have to do that,” Marco said.

“I don't have a lawyer. I don't even know a lawyer to call.” She slapped her hands on the counter, her handcuffs rattling. “I can't believe this. I'm in jail and Mitzi is home free. She's the one who should be here, that lying, cheating bi—”

“Sarah, do you want me to phone my friend Dave Hammond?” I asked. “He's a good attorney.”

“I guess so. It's very apparent I can't rely on Tom to do anything for me.” Her tone was irate, but the hurt was evident in her voice.

“Has he been here to see you?” Marco asked.

She shook her head, her lower lip trembling.

“I'll phone Dave right now,” I said, rising. I stepped away to make the call while Marco talked to Sarah. When I returned, I said, “Dave will be down here within the hour.”

Sarah let out of sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Sarah was just telling me what happened when she arrived home this afternoon,” Marco said. He waited until I had the notebook ready then said, “Go ahead, Sarah. You had just pulled into your garage.”

“Okay, then I went through the door into the kitchen and the minute I walked in I heard Mitzi's shrill voice berating Tom. I couldn't imagine what he'd done to deserve it, so I paused to listen. That's when I heard her tell him he had to go to your house to swear that she was with him
in my house
the Friday evening Dirk died. ‘You have to go right now,' she told him, ‘while Sarah's at the shower, or else the Salvares will have the cops come here to talk to you. Do you want that? Do you want Sarah to find out about us?'

“That's when I lost it. Mitzi is my best friend! Or
was.
What kind of debased person does that to her best friend? I'm telling you,
Mitzi
should be in jail, not me!” She folded her arms and sat back, a furious expression on her face.

“I'm sorry, Sarah,” I said. “You must feel devastated.”

“At the moment I just want to get out of here.”

“If you don't mind,” Marco said, “I have a few questions for you.”

At her nod, he asked, “Where were you on the Friday evening of the murder?”

“At church, setting up for a fund-raiser.” Sarah shook her head. “I was actually filling in for Mitzi because she claimed to have a migraine. How's that for irony? She's never had a migraine in her life. I've heard her brag about it.”

“What happened after you heard the two talking in your kitchen?” Marco asked.

“I grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa and started hitting Tom. Then I turned toward Mitzi and she let out a scream like I'd smacked her with a brick. She ran out the door, and I was so furious I went to the garage, backed my car down the driveway, and drove into her Jaguar before she could get away. Tom pounded on my window, ordering me to stop, and then Mitzi backed into
my
car! Twice! I jumped out and ran up to the Jag and tried to open the door, but she locked it and sat there until the police came. And then she told them I rammed her car three times!

“And by the way, I didn't hit her car hard enough to cause her so-called whiplash injury because I wasn't going fast enough. If she has whiplash, she caused it herself.”

“I didn't hear the first part of your story,” I told her. “Did you leave the bridal shower early or was it over when you left?”

“Early, because I got a call from Theda saying I needed to get home.”

I felt Marco's gaze shift my way, but I ignored him.

“Why did Theda want you to go home?” I asked.

“She was walking past our house and heard two loud bangs, like gunshots, coming from inside. She said she knocked and rang the doorbell, but Tom didn't answer. So I got worried and drove home.”

“When Theda called you, did she say anything about Mitzi being at your house?” Marco asked.

“No.”

“Did she mention seeing Mitzi's car out front?” Marco asked.

“No.”

Marco glanced at me again and I knew he was thinking that Theda had lied to get Sarah home.

“After Theda said she heard two bangs, why didn't you call the police?” I asked.

Sarah shrugged. “My first inclination was to find out what had happened. I thought maybe Tom had knocked something over in the garage and just didn't hear Theda ringing the bell. Looking back now, I wish I had called the cops. I would've loved to see Mitzi and Tom's faces when the police arrived.”

“Did you ever figure out what caused those sounds?” Marco asked.

“I never thought about it again, Marco. I was a little busy wanting to maim someone.”

“Would you do me a favor?” Marco asked. “If you find out, would you let one of us know?”

•   •   •

“Why do you want to know about the noises?” I asked Marco as we drove home.

“I'm the curious type.”

“You think Theda made them up to get Sarah home, don't you?”

“Don't
you
?”

I glanced at the passing scenery out my side window. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Theda was clever, Sunshine. She didn't want Sarah to send the police so she found another way to get her home, banking on Sarah's natural curiosity. I wonder if Theda ever did knock and ring the doorbell.” Marco glanced at me. “I'm betting she didn't, because my guess is there were no loud noises.”

Instead of defending Theda, which was becoming increasingly more difficult, I kept my head turned toward my window.

After a protracted silence, Marco said, “So, what are we doing about your parents' dinner?”

I drew a frowny face on the glass. “We're going.”

•   •   •

Dinner at my parents' house was normally a boisterous affair, with everybody trying to outdo everybody else's
You'll never believe
my
week
story. There was always plenty of food to go with the storytelling, along with a lot of laughter, so that by the end of dinner, we would all have full bellies and smiles on our faces.

Tonight was totally different. Tonight everyone was on their best behavior, the stories absent, the jokes tame, the laughter subdued. Tonight Rosa was there, and she and my mom were in the limelight, talking about how much fun they'd had working on Mom's latest art project.

Rosa's son Petey had decided to stay with his grandmother so he could finish a school report due the next day. However, I was betting that he really hadn't wanted to sit around a table with a bunch of strangers all evening, and who could blame him? I felt like
I
was with a bunch of strangers, too.

“So when do we get to see this fantastic art project?” my brother Jordan asked.

“After dessert,” Mom said, glancing at Rosa as she passed out slices of custard pie.

“And how come you won't tell us what it is?” my niece Tara asked. Her cell phone was in a basket by the front door with the rest of the family's—my dad's policy.

“We don't want to ruin the surprise,” Mom said.

“Everyone hurry,” Tara said, and shoveled a bite into her mouth. “I hate suspense.”

And I was pretty sick of the whole art project subject.

As soon as we'd cleared the table, we gathered in the family room while Mom and Rosa left to go to Mom's art studio, a converted screened-in porch at the back of the house. Minutes later Rosa returned and clapped to get our attention, then asked Marco and me to come to the center of the room.

“What for?” I asked warily.

“Just come!” Rosa said, waving me forward.
“Vamos!”

Marco took my hand and led me there.

“Now close your eyes,” Rosa said.

“This is silly,” I grumbled to Marco.

He squeezed my hand.

I heard paper rattling, then a thud, and then Mom announced, “Open your eyes!”

I opened them and saw bright yellow wrapping paper covering a tower about five feet high and two feet wide.

“It's your housewarming present,” Mom said. “Rosa helped me with it.”

That explained the secrecy.

“Were we all supposed to bring housewarming gifts?” my brother Jonathan asked.

His wife patted his leg. “We already sent a gift, Jon.”

“Open your present, Aunt Abby,” Tara called.