Murder Is a Piece of Cake (6 page)

Chapter 8

Tuesday, October 23

Lenore was still cackling on Jane’s TV screen when three cell phones erupted. Ted’s
phone barked, Jane’s rang like an old-school phone, and Josie’s played “Here Comes
the Bride.” All three phone owners retreated into separate corners to answer.

Josie recognized her caller’s number: Alyce, her best friend and matron of honor.

“I saw that horrible television show,” Alyce said. “It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong.
Ted would never do that.”

Josie could practically see Alyce, her creamy skin flushed with indignation and her
pale hair floating about her face.

“Every word is a lie,” Josie said.

“I knew it,” Alyce said. Josie’s friend was as generous as her build, and a good listener.

“Molly Ann Deaver is insane,” Josie said, “but Channel Seven loved her abandoned-bride
act.”

“Fletch the Lech sure bought it,” Alyce said. “But I expected that.”

“You know Judge Fletcher Hornsby?” Josie asked.

“My husband does,” Alyce said. “So does the rest of the legal community. That old
publicity hound. No, he’s a real hound. They call him Fletch the Lech because he drools
over every pretty face in his courtroom. Women lawyers dress like nuns to avoid that
nasty old man. So far, he’s managed to dodge any serious complaints, but the bar association
is watching him.”

“He was definitely watching Molly,” Josie said. “She’s been stalking Ted.”

“Poor Ted,” Alyce said. “I figured it had to be something like that. I don’t trust
that station. I got sucked in while I was channel surfing. First I saw Fletch, then
the bride. I know her sister, Emily.”

“Of course you do,” Josie said. St. Louis was the kind of big small town where everyone
was connected.

“She lives in my subdivision,” Alyce said.

No wonder the fake bride wore a big rock and rode in a rented Bentley, Josie thought.
If her sister lived in the Estates at Wood Winds, there was money in that family.
Alyce’s subdivision was a pricey gated ghetto in West County.

“Is Emily as crazy as her sister?” Josie asked.

“No, she’s super sane,” Alyce said. “She snagged a primo Wood Winds committee—the
Thanksgiving food bank fundraiser. She and my friend Connie will be selling crafts
at the Blue Rose Tearoom tomorrow.”

“I’m going there for brunch with Mom and Lenore,” Josie said. “We’re discussing the
wedding. At least, I hope it’s a discussion. Mom and Lenore didn’t hit it off the
first time they talked.”

“I saw your pistol-packing mother-in-law on TV,” Alyce said. “Is that what she’s like?”

“She’s forceful,” Josie said, “but better-looking in person.” She mentally patted
herself on the back for her diplomacy. If Ted hadn’t been in the same room, she would
have been blunter.

But Josie couldn’t fool her best friend. “Ted nearby, Josie?” Alyce asked.

“Yes.”

“Thought so,” Alyce said. “At least your mother-in-law will live twelve hundred miles
away in Florida.”

“That’s right,” Josie said carefully.

“You can’t talk, can you?” Alyce said.

“You know me too well,” Josie said. “I’ll be sure to buy something tomorrow.” She
clicked off her phone, relieved someone saw the real situation.

“How bad was your call?” Ted asked her.

“It was good,” Josie said. “That was Alyce and she didn’t believe Channel Seven’s
report. Who’d you talk to?”

“My partner, Chris,” Ted said. “After the judge cut her loose, Molly headed straight
for the clinic again. She flounced in, still wearing her wedding dress, and demanded
Bella. Didn’t even say thank you. She picked up her dog and left. Our clients stared
and a Rottweiler growled at her.”

“I wish he’d bitten her,” Josie said. “What’s Chris hearing from your clients?”

“Reaction is mixed so far,” Ted said. “Two women canceled their appointments. They
said they didn’t want to deal with a hound like me. Six women requested me—and only
me—to examine their pets at their homes. Chris said I wasn’t making house calls this
week.”

“Amelia was right,” Josie said. “The controversy has made you more attractive.”

“Notorious,” Ted said. “That’s not the same. I don’t like it. I’m an animal doctor,
not a dog.”

Amelia giggled.

“Alyce says the judge is known as Fletch the Lech,” Josie said. “He’s the real hound.”

“Well, that explains something,” Ted said. “That judge—”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by Jane’s shouting. “Ted’s a good man and
I’m proud to have him as my son-in-law. That’s right, proud! That crazy Molly Deaver
lied through her teeth. We’re lucky to have him, AND IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE THAT, YOU
CAN LOSE MY NUMBER, ESTELLE!”

Jane punched her phone off extra hard. “The nerve of that woman!” she said. “And she
irons the altar cloths, too!”

She hugged Ted again. “This will blow over,” Jane said. “Too many people know you’re
a good man and a good doctor. I hope you’ll stay for dinner.”

“I should have Josie take me to my car,” Ted said.

“You should eat,” Jane said. “I’ve got homemade beef stew in the freezer. Dinner will
be ready as soon as I make a salad. Amelia, set the table for four, please.”

“Mom’s right,” Josie said. “You need a good meal.”

“Please stay, Ted,” Amelia said.

“Well, I can’t refuse three ladies,” he said, and grinned at Amelia.

At dinner, Jane heaped Ted’s plate with her savory stew, thick with beef, carrots,
and potatoes. Ted speared a beef chunk and pushed it around his plate. Josie waited
for him to eat it, but he abandoned it and stuck his fork in a potato hunk.

Conversations started up suddenly, then quickly died.

“I got those mums on sale at the garden center,” Jane said. “I’ll plant them after
dinner.”

“Need help?” Ted asked.

“No, you’ve done enough,” Jane said. “I’m so upset, after that show, I’ll feel better
digging around in the dirt.”

That killed the conversation for a long minute.

“While we’re talking dirt,” Josie said, “Alyce’s husband is a lawyer, Ted. He can
recommend a good attorney if you want to sue Channel Seven.”

“What’s the use, Josie?” Ted said. “Molly Deaver has been painted as a victim. If
I sue her, I’ll be the monster who attacked her in court after I abandoned her at
the altar. I’ll just hope the story dies away soon.”

Josie didn’t think it would, but if she said so, Ted would feel worse. More silence
descended while Ted took a carrot on a tour around his plate.

Amelia tried the next conversation. “Zoe wore the freshest outfit today,” she said.

Josie braced herself. Zoe was eleven going on forty. She was the first in her class
to wear makeup, drink beer with older boys, even sext a picture of her budding breasts
to a boyfriend.

“She had this leopard blazer over a floral dress.”

“Flowers and a leopard print?” Jane said. “I don’t think those would go together.”

“You wouldn’t expect it to work, Grandma, but on Zoe it totally did. I loved her kicks.
She wore Converse low tops. And she had this awesome Alexander Wang tote. You could
find me something like that, couldn’t you, Mom? You’re an amazing shopper. It’s your
job.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of butter, Amelia,” Josie said. “You’ve slathered it all over.
I might be able to find one of those for your birthday, the dress or the blazer. Or
I could score the Converse shoes. But the tote is out.”

“Maybe I could buy the tote for Amelia’s birthday,” Ted said.

“I don’t think so, Ted,” Josie said. “It’s more than six hundred dollars. That’s too
expensive. I can get a good knockoff cheap.”

“It’s not the same,” Amelia said, and stuffed a big bite of beef into her mouth.

Ted resumed pushing chunks of stew around his plate until Jane said, “Does your food
taste bad?”

“No, no,” Ted said. “I ate too many cookies before dinner. Now I’m not hungry.”

“I’m finished, too,” Josie said. “You’ve had a long day, Ted. I’ll drive you to the
clinic to pick up your car.”

“After we do the dishes,” he said.

“Don’t bother about the dishes,” Jane said. “Amelia and I will do them. You two run
along.”

They both thanked Jane and ducked out. Josie was grateful the awkward dinner was over.
Mrs. M, arms crossed over her chest, was on her porch, staring at Ted and Josie as
they walked to her car. Josie stuck out her tongue.

“That was mature,” Ted said, and grinned.

“It was. I could have flipped her the bird,” Josie said. “I don’t like the way she
stared at you.”

“I’d better get used to it,” Ted said.

Josie unlocked her car and Ted sat down heavily. Josie kissed him and said, “I’m so
sorry you have to go through this.” She felt content with her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize Molly was a stalker and report her,” Ted said. “Now
I’ve dragged you into my mess.”

“You didn’t drag me anywhere,” Josie said. “I love you. We’ll face this together.”
She wanted to stay in her car, safe and isolated from the world, but her mother came
outside in her gardening outfit. Time to leave.

Josie steered her car into the street and asked, “Did you call Lenore about the show?”

“I don’t have the nerve,” Ted said. “I’m hoping she never sees it.”

A block from the clinic, Josie slowed down behind a line of cars. “What’s going on?”
she asked. “Is there an accident ahead?”

“There’s a parade,” Ted said. “They’re all slowing down at the clinic.” He craned
his neck. “I see at least five TV news vans. Don’t go into the lot. Just cruise on
past so I can see what’s going on.”

Josie inched toward the clinic.

“I see Channel Five’s truck,” Ted said. “And Channel Two, Four, Eleven, and Seven.
That’s Molly’s blue Bug, parked next to my car.”

“She’s back at the clinic?” Josie said.

“Yep. Talking to Channel Four.”

Josie didn’t recognize the reporter, a telegenic type in a shirt the same blue as
Molly’s dress. The abandoned bride was carrying her fluffy white dog like a baby.
Bella’s rhinestone collar sparkled.

“Quick, Josie. Keep driving before she sees me!” Ted said, and ducked down.

Josie stepped on the gas and swung around the line of gawkers.

“What do you want to do about your car?” she asked.

“Can you take me home?” he asked. “Kathy and I open the clinic at nine tomorrow. I’ll
ask her to swing by and pick me up. I wish that woman would go away for good.”

“Maybe if we wish together, we can make it happen,” Josie said.

Chapter 9

Wednesday, October 24

“Josie! It’s Ted. She was here again.” Ted didn’t take time to wish her good morning.
His words were quick, clipped, and angry.

Josie knew exactly who he meant. “What’s Molly done to you?” she asked.

She had her hairbrush in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“Molly was at the clinic, waiting by my car. At eight thirty this morning. Wearing
some frilly dress like it was 1950,” Ted said. “Kathy was driving me to work. When
she saw Molly, she blasted the horn and called 911. Molly dumped a package on my car
hood and took off in her blue Beetle.”

“A package! Was it a bomb?” Josie asked.

“That’s what I thought,” Ted said. “I wanted to call the bomb squad, but Kathy calmly
walked over and ripped open the package. Molly made me more blueberry muffins.”

“You didn’t eat them, did you?” Josie asked.

“Of course not,” Ted said. “Kathy showed them to the police when they arrived.”

“What did they do?” Josie asked.

“Nothing,” Ted said. “These weren’t the same two officers who were here yesterday.
They treated the whole thing like a joke. One said he wished he had cute blondes chasing
him with pastries. Kathy said that wasn’t funny—Molly was dangerous. He finally asked
if she’d damaged my car or the property.”

“Did she?” Josie asked.

“No. The cop said, ‘We’ll file a report, Stud Muffin,’ and they both drove off, laughing.”

“It isn’t funny,” Josie said. “Are you able to work today?”

“I’m fine,” Ted said, and switched the subject. “When is the moms’ wedding summit?”

“I’m getting ready now,” Josie said. “Jane’s already dressed. She went outside to
see if her flowers needed watering.”

Josie heard a shriek. So did Ted. “Uh-oh. That’s Mom,” she said. “Hope bridezilla
hasn’t done something. I’ll call you back.”

Josie dashed to the front porch, wearing her black pantsuit and no shoes. Jane was
standing over the two massive pots Ted had carried there yesterday. The morning sun
gilded the gaping holes in the soil where the flowers had been.

“Somebody stole my mums!” Jane said. “Those . . . buzzards!” That was the worst B-word
Jane used, a sure sign she was furious.

Josie looked up and saw their neighbor, Mrs. M, rolling up their walk like a tank
in a flowered housedress.

“Jane! Someone stole your flowers,” Mrs. M said. “They took mine, too. I saw who did
it.”

“Then why didn’t you stop them?” Jane asked, exasperated.

“I saw the thieves, but I didn’t actually see them stealing,” Mrs. M said. “Last night,
a carload of young men from the city drove down Phelan Street about nine o’clock,
playing loud rap. They were gangbusters for sure. I should have called the police
because they stole my Mammoth Football mums.”

“Young men from the city”—Josie translated that as “African-Americans.” “You mean
‘gangbangers,’ Mrs. Mueller,” she said. “And I don’t think they drive around stealing
flowers.”

“You can laugh, Josie Marcus, but those people start by stealing and then their crimes
escalate. Soon they’ll be attacking us in our beds. I’m doing what I should have done
last night—report this to the police. What about you, Jane?”

“I don’t have time,” Jane said. “Josie and I are leaving to meet with Ted’s mother.
To discuss the wedding.”

“That’s still on?” Mrs. M asked. She raised one eyebrow. “You’re letting your daughter
marry that Bluebeard?”

“That TV story was one big lie,” Jane said. “Anybody with half a brain could see that.”

Ooh. A year ago, Jane wouldn’t have zinged Mrs. Mueller. Back then she’d been Jane’s
best friend. She was still a neighborhood power, in charge of the choice committees.
But when Mrs. M insulted Josie and Amelia, Jane lashed back. The two women eventually
mended their broken friendship, but it was no longer strong.

“Ted is a good man and I’m proud to have him in my family,” Jane said. “Let’s go,
Josie. I’ll wait in my car.”

She stomped back toward the garage, leaving Mrs. M on their porch, chins trembling
with outrage. “You have a civic duty to report this,” she shouted at Jane’s back.

Josie ran inside and slipped on her stylish new red heels, grabbed her purse, and
dashed out the back door.

Jane was still fuming when Josie sat down in the passenger seat. “I’ve half a mind
to rescind that woman’s wedding invitation,” she said, starting her car. “She doesn’t
deserve to be part of your special day.”

“Don’t, Mom,” Josie said. “I want to see what awful gift she gives me and Ted. Ted!
I forgot to call him.”

She speed-dialed Ted’s cell phone. When he answered, she heard the clinic background
sounds: arfs, woofs, and an occasional cat screech.

“Ted? Mom’s fine. She was upset because someone stole her mums last night. Pulled
them right out of the pots. Took Mrs. Mueller’s plants, too. Mrs. M says it’s ‘gangbusters’
from the city. No, we’re fine. Mom’s not worried and neither am I.

“How are you after this morning’s surprise? Busy. Good. I’m glad that stupid TV show
didn’t hurt your business. I’ve gotta go, too. The wedding summit is starting soon.
Mom’s parking at the Blue Rose Tearoom. Twenty-nine days and we’re together forever.
Take care. I love you.”

“What was that all about?” Jane asked.

Josie told her about the stalker bride’s morning visit. “I was talking to Ted when
you discovered your flowers were stolen,” Josie said. “He was worried.”

“How he got to be such a good man with that witch of a mother is beyond me,” Jane
said.

“I gather Ted takes after his late father,” Josie said.

The Blue Rose Tearoom was a two-story Victorian from the days when St. Louis County
was mostly farmland. Now it was surrounded by acres of asphalt. The old white house
had gingerbread trim and freshly painted blue shutters. Hooked rugs, flowered china,
and softly grayed turn-of-the-century photos made the inside cozy. Even on a Wednesday
morning, the parking lot was packed.

“There’s a good crowd here,” Josie said. “That will help the fund-raiser. Alyce’s
subdivision is selling crafts for the Thanksgiving food bank.”

“We’ll have to buy something,” Jane said.

“And watch what we say at the craft table,” Josie said. “Emily will be here selling,
and she’s Molly Deaver’s sister. Alyce says she’s nothing like her crazy sister.”

“I don’t trust anyone in that family,” Jane said. “I won’t mention our connection
to Ted.”

“We won’t have to,” Josie said. “His pistol-packing mama will be at our table.”

“Lenore.” Jane made a face. “I’m trying for your sake, but I don’t like her.”

“Me, either,” Josie said. “That’s her navy Chevy rental car, next to the dented red
pickup. Who drives a pickup with a gun rack to a tearoom?”

“At least the gun rack is empty,” Jane said. “Do I look okay?” She patted her sprayed
gray hair and checked her pink plastic earrings. Jane had been through some hard times,
but she had a pleasantly worn look, as if the struggle had improved her.

“You look pretty, Mom,” Josie said. “That’s my favorite pantsuit.”

“Lenore is so chic,” Jane said. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“Can’t happen,” Josie said, and hugged her mother.

Inside, Lenore waved at them from a corner table. Josie recognized her blue suit as
a stylish St. John Knit. Her gold earrings were Tiffany diamond starfish. Josie waved
back and they sat at a roomy table for four with a fat Blue Willow teapot.

“Josie, your future mother-in-law is a local celebrity,” Lenore said. She had a glow
that wasn’t makeup. “Everyone recognizes me. They’ve been coming by the table here
to look at me—even the men brave enough to come into this place. They want to know
if I have my gun. I showed it to them.”

“You saw the TV show last night?” Josie asked carefully.

“No, but the nice young waiter at the Ritz did,” Lenore said. “He said I was ‘awesome’—that
was his word. The rest of the staff congratulated me. Even the housekeeper knew who
I was. What did you think of me?”

“You were amazing,” Josie said. She thought that safely covered the subject. She noticed
Lenore never mentioned her son. Josie could feel the curious eyes aimed at them. A
parade of women passed by, taking the long way to the restroom to look at Lenore.

A server in a blue gingham dress appeared with a basket of warm cranberry bread and
honey butter. “Remove that bread,” Lenore said, waving it away. “It’s fattening.”

“I’ll take it,” Josie said.

“Josie, dear, remember your wedding pictures,” Lenore said.

“I am,” Josie said. “A happy bride makes a beautiful picture.” She chose the thickest
slice and slathered it with honey butter, then passed the basket to her mother.

“Are you ready to order?” the server asked. Josie felt sorry for the stout older woman,
forced to wear a girlish dress with puffed sleeves.

“I’ll have the eggs Benedict,” Lenore said, “with no sauce, no Canadian bacon, and
fruit instead of fried potatoes.”

“That’s just a poached egg on an English muffin,” the server said.

“That’s right,” Lenore said.

“I’ll have the bacon-cheese scramble,” Josie said as she deliberately buttered her
second piece of cranberry bread.

“And fresh fruit instead of fried potatoes?” the server asked.

“No,” Josie said. “I want the potatoes.”

“I’ll have the same,” Jane said.

After the server left, Jane said, “Lenore, what color dress will you be wearing? I’d
like pink.”

“Fine with me. I’m wearing black,” Lenore said.

“To a wedding?” Jane asked.

“I don’t buy the old-fashioned idea that mothers have to wear pastels with pearls.
That’s so dowdy.”

Jane’s face fell.

Josie knew she was planning to wear her wedding pearls with a pink long-sleeved dress.
She longed to stab Lenore, but she only had a butter knife. Change the subject, she
told herself. “My matron of honor, Alyce, is wearing red velvet,” she said. “It will
look good with your black.”

“Do I know Alyce?” Lenore asked.

“You’ll meet her at the rehearsal,” Josie said. She thumbed through the photos on
her cell phone. “That’s her there. The pretty blonde.”

“Rather large, isn’t she?” Lenore said.

“Largehearted,” Josie said.

“Here comes our food,” Jane said.

The three women ate in uneasy silence until Lenore said, “I was able to book the rehearsal
dinner at the Ritz.”

“Congratulations,” Josie said. “I know you wanted to hold it there.” They talked about
the rehearsal plans and other harmless matters while a stream of diners passed their
table, some sneaking glances at Lenore, others outright staring.

“I have things to do,” Lenore said. “Shall we get the check?” She signaled the waitress.

Finally, Josie thought. She pulled out fifty dollars. “Here’s my share and Mom’s,”
she said. “Mom and I would like to look at the craft sale. It’s a charity fund-raiser.”

“Oh, I could take a look,” Lenore said, a queen bestowing her presence on the peasants.

Josie, Jane, and Lenore examined the handmade scarves, jewelry, and other artfully
displayed items. A pleasantly rounded woman with golden-brown eyes smiled at them.

“I’m a friend of Alyce Bohannon’s,” Josie said. “Are you Emily?”

“No, I’m Connie,” she said. “Emily’s taking a brief break. How may I help you?”

“I want these two wool scarves,” Josie said. “And the pink necklace for my daughter.”

“I’ll take this green pet quilt,” Jane said. “My dog watches the soaps with me. This
will keep the dog hair off the couch cushions.”

“What about you, ma’am?” Connie asked.

“I don’t like homemade things,” Lenore said. “I’ll settle the check at the table.”

Josie was mortified. “I’m sorry,” she said, slipping Connie an extra ten dollars.

“You don’t have to do that,” Connie said, “but thank you.”

“My purse!” Lenore said.

Josie heard her cry of distress across the room.

“I can’t pay without my purse,” Lenore said.

Once again, their table was the center of attention. Jane and Josie rushed over and
helped Lenore and the server search for the missing Chanel bag. Other customers began
looking for it.

“It’s not on the floor,” Josie said.

“It’s not hanging on your chair back,” Jane said.

“Here it is!” the server said. “It was sitting on the fourth chair. The tablecloth
hid it.” She handed Lenore her Chanel bag with the double
C
s.

“That isn’t where I put it,” Lenore said. She checked inside. “There’s my wallet.”
She opened it. “My cash and credit cards are untouched. Thank heavens, everything
is here. Let’s go.”

Lenore didn’t even thank the waitress. Josie pressed a five-dollar bill into her hand
and followed her mother outside.

“How many days before she goes back to Boca?” Jane asked as they waved good-bye to
Lenore.

“The day after tomorrow,” Josie said. “I wish someone would lock her up until the
wedding.”

Josie was about to get her wish.