Murder Is a Piece of Cake (17 page)

Chapter 30

Wednesday, October 31

“Alyce,” Josie said, “I’ve done something wrong and I want to apologize.”

Josie was examining a black satin dog bow tie in the bridal shop. She couldn’t look
her best friend in the eye.

“You’re apologizing to me?” Alyce asked. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t speak up,” Josie said. “You’re my best friend, and I sat there and did nothing.”

“So what was your terrible crime?” Alyce asked.

“Lenore insisted that Ted’s brother, Dick, be in our wedding. Ted didn’t even want
to invite him. Those two don’t get along. Dick plays stupid practical jokes. He can’t
even hold a job. Last time he was fired for putting his boss’s stapler in Jell-O.”

“Just like
The Office
,” Alyce said. “How original. No wonder he got fired.”

“Ted’s still furious at him because the idiot superglued a ball to Festus’s paw.”

“I don’t blame Ted,” Alyce said. “How old is his brother?”

“Thirty,” Josie said.

“Inexcusable,” Alyce said.

“What I did was just as wrong,” Josie said. She rubbed the bow’s satin, as if she
could make a wish and her problem would disappear. “I said Dick could escort you at
our wedding.”

Alyce laughed. “That’s all?”

“That’s enough,” Josie said. “I should have stood up to Lenore and refused to have
that man in my wedding.”

“Josie, sweetie, of all the things to worry about,” Alyce said. “I can handle him.
I’m the mother of a two-year-old. I entertain dozens of ego-flushed lawyers for Jake’s
career. One idiot brother won’t be a problem.”

“You’re a true friend, Alyce,” Josie said.

“Yes, I am. And as your true friend, believe me when I say Ted’s brother is one thing
you don’t have to worry about. Don’t fight with your mother-in-law over this. Now,
on to important matters.” Alyce held up a white satin dog collar with a black bow
tie on it. “What do you think of this for Festus?”

“The bow won’t show,” Josie said. “He’s a black Lab.”

“Then how about a red bow tie?” Alyce asked.

“Perfect,” Josie said. “I’ll get a black bow tie for Stuart Little and a cat-sized
bow tie for Harry.”

“What about Marmalade?”

“Ted’s cat should have a girlie white bow,” Josie said. “It will look good with her
orange fur.”

“Will the pets be at the wedding?” Alyce asked.

“No, the clinic interns will bring them to Tower Grove Park. We’re having some wedding
photos taken there.”

“That’s where Ted proposed,” Alyce said. “That’s so romantic. Are you going to Ted
Drewes afterward?”

Generations of bridal parties stopped at Ted Drewes Frozen Custard stand to scarf
up the city’s favorite treats.

“We’re going straight to the reception after the photos,” Josie said. “But we could
go there now. I could use a chocolate chip concrete.”

“Deal,” Alyce said.

Twenty minutes later, they were parked at the old frozen custard stand. Its peaked
gables dripped wooden icicles. Ted Drewes was on Chippewa Street, part of the legendary
Route 66. Ted’s concrete shakes were legendary, too.

Alyce ordered a Cardinal Sin with cherries and hot fudge. Josie wanted a classic chocolate
chip concrete. They sat inside Alyce’s SUV with piles of paper napkins and spooned
in their creamy concoctions.

“I still remember the first time Jake took me here,” Alyce said. “It was an August
night and the line wrapped around the building, but it moved fast. The parking lot
was a party. Jake insisted I get a concrete shake, and demonstrated how it got its
name. He turned the cup upside-down with the spoon in it and it didn’t slide out.”

“The concretes are thick as ever,” Josie said. She stopped wolfing hers down. “Brain
freeze. Ouch.”

Alyce scraped the last of her concrete and licked the spoon. “Do you have time to
swing by Emily’s with me? I want to see how she’s doing.”

“It must be hard for her,” Josie said. “That poor family had to go from planning a
wedding to a funeral.”

“That’s why I want to check on Emily,” Alyce said. “I haven’t seen her outside since
the funeral—not even to pick up the mail.”

Josie came out of her sugar stupor when Alyce was waved through the Wood Winds gate.
Emily’s home jutted out of the ground like a cantilevered crystal. Josie thought it
looked interesting, but cold, like Emily.

“Emily doesn’t seem anything like her sister,” she said. “Molly loved antiques, flowers,
and ruffles.”

“Different hobbies, too,” Alyce said. “Molly stalked men. Emily serves on charity
committees. She got all the practical DNA in that family—and all the good sense. Good.
Looks like she’s here. She’s working on her roses.”

Big-boned Emily wore her overalls like a farmer, over a worn plaid shirt. A frayed
Cardinals ball cap and thick gardening gloves completed the outfit. She waved, then
hurried to the car with a half-dozen pink roses in a flat basket.

“Alyce,” she said. “Hi. I’m getting the last roses of summer. I’m sorry, I know we’ve
been introduced, but I can’t remember your name.”

“This is Joanie,” Alyce said, reminding Josie not to say her real name.

“Would you like to come in for coffee and cake?” Emily asked.

“Coffee, yes,” Josie said, “but no cake. We stopped at Ted Drewes.”

They followed Emily through a two-car garage that dwarfed the bright red Kia Rio.
“Is that a new car?” Alyce asked.

“I got rid of that big old Cayenne,” Emily said. “It was too hard to handle in traffic.
My little Kia is better for the environment. I told Brad it should be green, not red.”

Emily slipped off her shoes at the door, and Josie saw her little toe poking through
her sock. “The kitchen is a mess,” she said.

The kitchen was a shock after Alyce’s well-ordered domain. The counter was cluttered
with an open loaf of sandwich bread, milk, cereal boxes, ketchup and mustard bottles,
and brown-speckled bananas. The sink was piled with dirty dishes.

“Dishwasher broke,” Emily said as she plugged in the coffeemaker. “Haven’t had time
to call the repairman. Come sit in the breakfast room while our coffee perks.”

The dining table was a sheet of glass balanced on chrome legs with four stark black
chairs. An orange wall added what decorators liked to call a “pop” of color. Josie
thought she could trace the faint outlines of a darker rectangle on the wall and wondered
if a painting had once hung there.

Josie could see a great room that was bare except for a big-screen television and
two plastic lawn chairs on thick gold carpet.

Emily stood at the kitchen island, trimming the roses and dropping them in a vase
of water.

“How are you doing?” Alyce asked.

Emily gave a shrug. “Okay,” she said.

“Which means not okay,” Alyce said.

“Molly was so young,” Emily said. “It’s hard. We may have to put Aunt Martha in assisted
living. She’s crushed by Molly’s . . . by Molly’s . . .” Emily finally said the word,
“passing.”

“I’m sorry,” Alyce said.

“Poor woman,” Emily said, wiping her eyes. “She’s had enough sorrow for two lifetimes.
Molly’s killer has been caught and I hope they lock her up forever.”

She sliced the rose stem with a sharp
snick!
“Catching the killer is supposed to bring closure, but it doesn’t feel like anything
at all. Your coffee’s ready.”

She returned with three mugs and a coffeepot. “There’s sugar on the table,” she said.
“Would you like cream?”

“Black coffee is fine,” Josie said. Alyce nodded her agreement.

Emily set the pot on a trivet. “Can I ask for your help?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Alyce said.

“Bring your coffee and follow me,” she said.

Emily padded down a hall to an enormous living room with khaki carpeting, orange walls,
and a midcentury chandelier. The only furniture was two long gray metal folding tables
heaped with boxes. Some were wrapped with white or silver paper. Others were in cardboard
shipping boxes.

Molly’s wedding presents, Josie thought.

She saw a soup tureen splashed with pink cabbage roses, a cut crystal vase, a scalloped-edged
platter and a stack of unopened gift cards.

“I’m trying to deal with Molly’s wedding presents,” Emily said. “The grief counselor
says I should handle them myself to process her death.”

“Process?” Alyce asked. Josie heard disapproval in her voice.

“I think she means accept what happened to my sister,” Emily said. “But I can’t. I
try and I try. I open a present, and then I think how much Molly would have liked
it. She really wanted that soup tureen with the cabbage roses. When I unwrapped it,
I felt so sad, I put it right back down. I can’t move on—with her things or with her
life. Brad says he’s tired of looking at them and I’m being morbid.”

Emily burst into noisy tears. Alyce set her coffee cup on the edge of the folding
table and put her arms around Emily. “It’s okay,” she said. “You should cry for your
sister.”

Josie backed away slightly and noticed a deep dent in the carpet. She saw five other
dents, marking a long rectangle. Did a couch used to be there? In front of the possible
couch were four more dents, about the size of a coffee table.

Alyce was still soothing Emily. “I’m here if you need me,” she said. “You’ll get through
Molly’s loss in your own way and in your own time.”

“Would you and Joanie come tomorrow when Brad’s at work and help me sort her presents?”

“Of course,” Alyce said. “What time?”

“He’ll be gone by eight thirty. Say, nine thirty?”

“That works for me,” Alyce said.

“Me, too,” Josie said. She glanced at her watch, and Alyce caught her signal. “Do
you have to pick up your daughter at school?”

“Yes,” Josie said.

“We should go,” Alyce said. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Back in Alyce’s car, Josie said, “That house looks awfully bare. I wonder if Emily
and her husband are short of money.”

“I don’t think so,” Alyce said. “People in this subdivision keep their display rooms
empty until they can afford the furniture they want.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw dents in the carpet where furniture used to be,” Josie said.
“And who downsizes from a Porsche to a Kia? If she really cared about the environment,
she’d buy a hybrid.”

“I’ll ask Connie,” Alyce said. “She knows all the neighborhood gossip.” Her cell phone
chimed. “Sorry, Josie, I’d better take this call.”

She pulled her Escalade over to the side of the subdivision street. Josie heard her
say, “Did my husband and I buy
a what?
A surfboard! Of course not.” Alyce ran her fingers through her fine pale hair. “When
did this happen? Today! My husband and I are both in St. Louis.”

There was a pause, then Alyce said, “I really appreciate your fraud division calling
about this out-of-the-ordinary purchase.”

She rummaged in her wallet. “My credit card is right here. I can call my husband and
check. He usually goes out to lunch. Do you see a lunch charge for today? Sixty-three
dollars at a steakhouse in Clayton, Missouri? That sounds legitimate. But not the
surfboard. Someone must have gotten our credit card information. Should I cancel our
old cards? Yes, please. As soon as I get home, I’ll do it. And thank you again.”

Alyce turned off her cell. She looked frazzled. “Can you believe it? Someone in Long
Beach charged an eight-hundred-dollar surfboard to our credit card. Thank goodness
American Express security was alert and called me to check.”

“That’s it!” Josie said. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Alyce looked puzzled.

“You’ve just told me how I can check Phoebe’s alibi,” Josie said.

Chapter 31

Wednesday, October 31

“Mom, are you pregnant?” Amelia asked.

“Am I what?” Josie was inching behind a line of luxury cars at the four-way stop by
the Barrington School. As usual, her daughter waited until Josie was seat-belted in
to ask an awkward question.

It was Halloween, and Amelia wore her borrowed witch costume. The pointed hat stuck
up in the backseat, but she kept on the black satin cape. Her witchy-dark eye makeup
was slightly smeared.

“Zoe told her mom that you were marrying a hot guy,” Amelia said. “Her mom said the
only reason to get married at your age is if you’re pregnant and want to keep the
kid.”

“I’m not pregnant,” Josie said.

“I know. You had me and you didn’t get married. But I didn’t tell Zoe that.”

“Thank the Lord for small favors,” Josie said.

“Zoe’s mom says it’s easier to just live with the guy. Once you get married, you’ve
got to worry about lawyers and sh—”

Josie glared at her.

“Sorry. Stuff when you split.”

Josie counted to three before answering. She didn’t want to preach, but she didn’t
like Zoe or her mother.

“Zoe’s mom is entitled to her opinion,” Josie said. “It’s not mine.”

“I know. She’s a ho.”

“Amelia Marcus! You will not use that word.”

“But Mom, Zoe came down to breakfast on Saturday and she saw this old dude in his
underwear in the kitchen. She didn’t even know his name. Her mom didn’t, either. She
picked him up in some bar.”

“That’s not how I choose to live,” Josie said. “It’s risky for a lot of reasons.”
Time to step off the soapbox, she told herself. “What Zoe’s mother did isn’t right,
but you can’t call her a ho.”

“A slut?” Amelia said. There was a question in her voice.

“I don’t want you using that word, either,” Josie said. “Zoe’s mom spent the night
with a man she didn’t know. They’re both at fault, but society doesn’t have a word
for men who bed hop.”

“Bed hop,” Amelia said. “Good one.”

“No, it’s not,” Josie said. “What I’m trying to say is we have no business judging
people when we don’t live perfect lives.”

Silence. Josie made it through the stop sign and was almost to Lindbergh, a major
route toward home, when Amelia bombed her with another question. “Are you sorry you
never married Daddy?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t marry your father,” Josie said. “I wanted to marry him. I wanted
to more than anything in the world. When I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t wait
to give him the good news. I knew we’d get married and live happily ever after. Except
before I could tell him, your daddy was arrested with a planeload of drugs. He went
to prison in Canada.”

“But you still could have married him,” Amelia said.

“No, I couldn’t,” Josie said, gently. “I told you why. He was a dealer. He flew in
drugs. That attracts big money and bad people. I didn’t want you growing up in that
environment.”

“Were you sad?” Amelia asked.

“I cried for weeks. I thought my life was over. The only thing that kept me going
was you. Your grandma was very angry. She said I ruined my life when I dropped out
of school. She wanted me to give you up for adoption.”

“Grandma wanted to give me away?” Amelia asked.

“That was before she knew you,” Josie said. “Now, I think she’d give
me
away first.”

Amelia laughed, but Josie could tell she was stunned by this new bit of information.

“Grandma was embarrassed because I wasn’t married to your father,” Josie said. “We
told everyone I was engaged to a pilot who was shot down in the Middle East.”

“You lied,” Amelia said.

“I did,” Josie said. “I was wrong. I convinced myself I did it for Grandma, so she
wouldn’t have to listen to Mrs. Mueller. But I did it for me, too. Then your father
got out of prison when you were nine and everyone knew he was alive.”

“He drank,” Amelia said.

“Nate had a drinking problem, yes,” Josie said. “He developed it in prison. The prisoners
made their own illegal alcohol and he was addicted. Nate had problems, Amelia. Lots
of problems. Despite them, he was a good man and I loved him so much.”

“Did you know he was selling drugs?” Amelia asked.

“No,” Josie said. “I knew he had a lot of money—cash money—but I never made the connection
between his money and selling drugs. Looking back, I can see the signs were there.
But I didn’t want to look. That’s why I don’t think it’s fair to judge people like
Zoe’s mom.”

They were nearing Highway 40. They’d be home in less than ten minutes, unless there
was a major traffic jam. Amelia slid in another tough question. “Now that you’re marrying
Ted, are you going to get pregnant?” she asked.

“No,” Josie said. “Ted and I talked about it, and we don’t want more children.” She
grinned at her daughter. “Why have another child when we already have perfection?”

“Whatever,” Amelia said.

Josie was relieved when they finally reached Phelan Street. Amelia squeezed in one
last question as Josie parallel parked the Honda in front of their flat.

“Why is Mrs. M beastin’ Grandma?” she asked.

“Where?” Josie said. She straightened out the car and turned it off.

“On the porch,” Amelia said. “Grandma must be decorating it for Halloween tonight.
She’s got the jack-o’-lanterns on the steps and the plastic skeletons on the railings.

“Mrs. M is arguing away and Grandma is giving it right back.”

The two older women looked like gladiators in pantsuits. Mrs. M’s helmet of hair didn’t
move, but her arms windmilled and her face was stroke red. She was pointing her finger
at Jane. Josie’s mother refused to back down.

“Stay here,” Josie said, “while I find out what’s going on.”

Jane and Mrs. M didn’t notice Josie’s approach. She listened to them verbally duke
it out from the walkway.

“The post office doesn’t have to do anything of the kind,” Jane said.

“Well, it’s ridiculous to deny me service,” Mrs. M said. “They could send another
mailman.”

“We have a woman delivering our mail,” Jane said. “Her name is Corrine. For your information,
she’s a letter carrier. Corrine is allergic to poison ivy.”

“I’m not asking her to put my mail in the mums,” Mrs. M said. “All she has to do is
deliver it to my mailbox, which is four feet nine inches away from the poison ivy.
I measured it myself.”

“Some people are deathly allergic,” Jane said. “They don’t even have to touch it.
They can catch airborne poison ivy.”

“Then the post office can send a mailman who’s not allergic,” Mrs. M said.

“Or you could get off your bottom and get your mail at the post office yourself,”
Jane said. “Why waste my tax dollars catering to you? Better yet, why don’t you get
rid of that stupid poison ivy and then Corrine can deliver your mail?”

“Because I have to catch those thieves,” Mrs. M said. “The safety of the neighborhood
depends on it.”

“My son-in-law installed a system in my plants to catch them,” Jane said. “It’s safe
and good for the environment. It won’t hurt the mail carrier or the crooks.”

“I don’t see any system,” Mrs. M said.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Jane said. “All you see are my mums.”

“Hah!” Mrs. M said. “I bet it’s not even there.”

Josie cleared her throat. “Afternoon, Mom. Is there a problem?”

“Not for me,” Jane said. “But our mail carrier is highly allergic to poison ivy. Corrine
refuses to come up on Mrs. Mueller’s porch until she removes that poison ivy she’s
growing around her mums. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going inside to get ready for
the trick-or-treaters.”

“You’ll be sorry when you wake up and all your mums are gone,” Mrs. M said.

“My son-in-law’s system will work,” Jane said. She slammed her front door. Mrs. M
stalked off to her home and firmly shut her own door.

Josie waved Amelia into the house and when she stopped laughing, she called Jane.
“Good for you, Mom. You stood up to Mrs. M.”

“Was I rude, Josie?” Jane asked. She was having second thoughts now.

“You were perfect, Mom,” Josie said. “Want to join us for dinner before the trick-or-treaters
arrive?”

“Thanks, dear. I want to rest until the children start ringing my doorbell.”

After the revelations on the ride home from school, Amelia was subdued. She stayed
in her room and played with Harry. Josie made her daughter’s favorite comfort food,
macaroni and cheese. They ate dinner in near silence.

“You’re so quiet,” Josie said, running her fingers through her daughter’s fine red-brown
hair.

“Nothing to say,” Amelia said. “Did I really ruin your life?”

“No, sweetie. You’re my reason for living.”

“But you dropped out of school to have me,” Amelia said. “You don’t want me to do
that.”

“No, I don’t,” Josie said. “Life is easier with a college degree. I can go back to
school now if I want. Maybe we could go to college together.”

Amelia looked stricken.

“I was teasing, honey,” she said. “If I go back to school, I’ll go to a different
college than yours.”

“You’re not going to be a vet, are you, Mom?” That was Amelia’s current career choice.
Josie suspected she’d have another one next week.

“Nope, I’m just going to marry one,” Josie said.

She stacked five bags of Halloween candy on the kitchen table and poured Hershey’s
Bars into a big bowl.

“I’m glad you don’t give lame healthy treats like raisins,” Amelia said. “Can I have
a Hershey bar? I’m wearing my witch costume to answer the door.”

Josie’s neighborhood still had an old-fashioned Halloween. The little kids started
coming by with their parents about six o’clock. Their cute costumes would be a good
distraction for Amelia, Josie decided.

By eight thirty, she would turn off her porch light. She didn’t open her door for
the older kids. They were too scary, even if they didn’t wear costumes.

“Watch the door, Amelia,” Josie said. “I have to make a phone call.”

Before she could enjoy Halloween, she had to get Phoebe Winstid’s alibi. She checked
the date of Molly’s murder, got out her cell phone, and draped a handkerchief over
the speaker to disguise her voice.

Phoebe answered with a cautious “Yes?”

“Mrs. Winstid, this is the fraud division for your credit card.” Josie deliberately
did not give a company name.

“Yes,” Phoebe said. “Is there something wrong with my MasterCard?”

“I hope not,” Josie said. “That’s why we’re checking. Did you have cocktails and dinner
at the Four Seasons restaurant in Manhattan Wednesday, October twenty-fourth?”

“Manhattan?” she said. “I was nowhere near Manhattan. I was here in St. Louis at home.
I ate leftovers in front of my television set. Of course, I can’t prove that, can
I?”

“No, Mrs. Winstid. But we see no other indications that you were traveling then. That’s
why our computer flagged the charge.”

“May I ask how much it’s for?” she asked.

“Five hundred sixty-three dollars and thirty-eight cents,” Josie said.

“Oh, my word,” Phoebe said.

“But you’re not responsible for it,” Josie said.

“You’re sure?” Phoebe’s voice was trembling.

“I’m absolutely positive,” Josie said. “We’ll remove the charge immediately. It won’t
be on your next bill.”

“I’m so glad you called me,” Phoebe said.

“Me, too,” Josie said.

Now I know for sure you don’t have an alibi for the night of Molly Deaver’s murder.