Murder the Tey Way: A Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mystery (The Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mysteries 2) (11 page)

I couldn’t find what I wanted in the nearby mall, so I drove to a costume store a few towns away. The extent of their stock boggled my mind. So many choices! Too many choices! I grabbed an armful of blouses and was on my way to the try-on room when someone called my name.

I spun around, startled to find Marge and Evan Billings beaming at me.

“Hi, Marge. Hi, Evan. Getting costumes for Sadie and Tim’s party?”

“Uh-huh,” Marge said. “We can’t decide who to go as—Tarzan and Jane or Wonder Woman and Superman.”

I covered my mouth to hide my grin. Considering their girth and white hair, they’d look better dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus.

“Can’t help you there,” I said, to be tactful.

“Of course, you can’t!” Evan glared at his wife. “We’ll look like damn fools as super heroes or jungle people.”

Marge patted his arm. “All right, dear. Don’t fret. We’ll go as our usual.”

Evan looked relieved. “I’m glad you’re being reasonable. Let’s see if they have a new head for me. The old one’s gotten mangy-looking.”

“All right, Evan. And I can use a new pair of braids.”

Curious, I asked, “What are you two going as?”

“The wolf and Little Red Riding Hood,” Evan said.

The three of us shared a good long laugh.
Such nice people, and they’ve been through so much. Surely, neither Marge nor Evan could have stabbed Len Lyons to death.

But just because I liked them didn’t mean they were innocent. The Billingses were about to walk off, when I asked, “Would you like to go out for coffee when we’re through here?”

Evan looked at his watch. “It’s a quarter past eleven. I wouldn’t mind a bite of lunch.”

Marge cast a fond wifely glance at her husband. “Evan still keeps farmer’s hours. He’s usually up at five each morning.”

“Even though I’ve no cows to see to,” he added.

Awake at five in the morning! And they lived a few blocks from my house.

“How about the diner down the street?” I asked. “I’ll try on these blouses, pick out a few other items, and be good to go.”

“We’ll meet you at the cash register,” Evan agreed.

Half an hour later we settled into a booth roomy enough for six. We studied the menu and ordered. I asked for a Greek omelet and coffee. Marge and Evan ordered cheeseburgers, well-done with the works, and large sodas.

“I should have told her to leave off the fries,” Marge said when the waitress was well out of hearing.

“Next time,” Evan answered, putting his hand over hers. “We’ll skip dessert tonight.”

I sighed. That had to be the most romantic line I’d heard in ages.

Marge gave me a bittersweet smile. “We both ought to lose a ton of weight, but we’re making little headway.”

Thinking of their three dead children, I said, “It’s difficult to diet when you’re under stress. Then I added, “I imagine Len Lyons’ murder has made us all nervous.”

“Good riddance, I say.” Evan scowled. “Robbing us and the others must have been penny ante to him. We heard he was involved in criminal activity up to his eyeballs.”

I leaned closer. “Like what?”

“You name it,” Marge said. “Len had connections to every type of gangster—from loan shark to hit man, and took a percentage from everyone he referred.”

Evan nodded. “He was connected, all right.”

I pretended to have a flash of insight. “When he was fixing my dishwasher, I happened to mention I was running short of cash. Len said he knew a man who could help me out, but I never pursued it.”

“Neither did we,” Marge said quickly. “Maybe that’s why he robbed us.”

“Naw.” Evan shook his head. “He burgled Tim’s house, and they’ve done their share of business together.”

“Evan!” Marge scolded.

He looked abashed, but said, “Relax, Marge. Everyone knows Tim loves to gamble. Len set him up with a bookie.”

“And Sadie lives above her means,” I added.

They gave me knowing smiles.

I hesitated, then asked, “Len never referred you to anyone?”

“Ah, here’s our food!” Marge exclaimed as our waitress brought over three oval plates.

My omelet was delicious—fluffy and light. As I ate, I wracked my brain for a way to get them to tell me the truth about the giant thug Evan was talking to outside the bowling alley.

I sipped my coffee, then ventured a gambit. “Still, I can see where knowing someone like Len might be useful. Especially after you’ve tried every legal avenue and can’t get what you need.”

Marge and Evan exchanged glances.

“If people needed his services,” I continued, “I can’t imagine why someone would want to kill him?”

Evan laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I can. Len Lyons was a greedy son-of-a-bitch. He’d agree to a price, you’d pay it, then later he’d ask for more.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“We heard he pulled that stunt over and over,” Evan said angrily, not meeting my gaze. “I bet that’s what got him killed. It might have been any one of twenty, thirty people—so I’ve heard.”

We walked back to our cars parked behind the costume shop and said our good-byes. I drove home slowly rerunning my conversation with the Billingses in my head. Evan’s fury at Len Lyons was too raw not to be personal. Putting together what I knew, I’d venture Len had introduced the Billingses to the man at the bowling alley. When Len asked for more money and the Billingses couldn’t or wouldn’t pay up, Len retaliated by burgling their home.

And Evan killed him?

Or Evan was right. The murderer had been another of Len’s victims. Someone who wasn’t a member of the book club.

“I’m not going to any stupid Halloween party!” Felicity said with more heat than I’d ever heard her express. “I don’t care
what
Corinne says.”

We were sitting in the Roberts‘ den. I was beginning to regret my decision to stop by on the off-chance that Felicity hadn’t gone to work this afternoon.

“Is it because you’re mourning Len’s death?” I asked gently.

She nodded, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “You’re the only person who knows about Leo besides Carol, my boss.”

I cleared my throat. “I know Len was very good to you, but I’ve heard some things about him that, well, are rather disturbing.”

“Like what!” Felicity’s sadness quickly changed to suspicion.

“You heard yourself—the Billingses and Tim are pretty sure he burgled their houses after doing work for them. And he was involved in other criminal activities.”

Felicity pressed her lips together and nodded. “I may as well tell you. It’s true. But Leo was going to turn his life around! He swore he would.” Her smile was bittersweet when she said, “And then we were going away and getting married. And I wouldn’t have to live with Corinne any more and do what she says.”

I was taken aback by her vehemence. “Does Corinne always tell you what to do?”

“Every day she makes a list of things I should do and say and another list of what I shouldn’t do and say. I’m sick and tired of it!”

This time the tears spilled over, accompanied by shuddering wails. I stood beside Felicity and rubbed her back until she grew calm.

“Here,” I said, handing her a tissue.

She blew her nose, and tried for a smile. “Sorry. Corinne says I have to learn to control my feelings.”

“It must be difficult to control them when your boyfriend just died.”

“Fiancé,” Felicity corrected me.

“Fiancé,” I repeated. “And you’re probably wondering who killed him.”

She flinched. I felt like a monster for upsetting her, but Felicity probably knew more about Len than anyone else. From what I’d learned about him, she was the only person he cared for. He might have let down his guard and revealed something that could lead to his murderer. A small detail she wasn’t even aware that she knew.

“I know who killed him,” she mumbled.

I gave a start, then told myself I’d imagined what I’d heard. “What did you say?”

“I know who killed Leo.”

I gaped at her.

“It was Johnny.”

“The man who killed your ferret?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

I felt a rush of excitement. “Did you see him the morning Len was killed?”

She shook her head. “I just know.”

She was delusional, talking about someone from her past. There was no way she could be right. Still, I had to find out more.

“When did you last see Johnny?”

Felicity shrugged. “A few years ago. Three years. Or maybe five.”

“Oh.” Disappointment washed over me. I was an idiot, trying to get information from a person with such a tenuous hold on reality. “Perhaps someone other than Johnny killed Len, someone here in town.”

Felicity nodded. “Could be. Leo told me lots of people didn’t appreciate the services he provided.”

I bet!
“Some of those people may be coming to Sadie’s Halloween party,” I said, my optimism reviving with every word I uttered. It suddenly seemed vitally important that Felicity attend the party. “They’ll be drinking and not watching what they say. Maybe one of them will make a comment connected to Len’s death, a comment the police can use to catch his murderer.”

Felicity stared at me as though she were reading my soul. Finally, she said, “You think the murderer will be at the party?”

“There’s a good chance,” I said.

After a long minute, she nodded. “I think I’ll go as Cinderella.”

“Excellent choice,” I told her. “I’ll help you with your costume, if you like.”

*****

Nothing much happened the week before the party. I had the strongest urge to bump into Tim accidentally on purpose and question him about Len, but figured I’d be more successful Halloween night.

I spent Thursday afternoon helping Felicity sew her costume. She was remarkably creative, and had bought a blonde wig and glass high heels. I prodded her about Len, but she wasn’t very forthcoming, either about how the two of them had met or naming anyone whom Len considered trouble. I mentioned that Brian would be coming to the party.

Her eyes twinkled. “You mean, as your plus one?”

“Uh huh,” I said, surprised that she knew the expression.

She gave me an elfin grin. “How cool is that! Will he be wearing a costume?”

“Of course,” I said.

Felicity turned serious. “I’m glad Detective Donovan will be there. This way we’ll have three pairs of eyes looking for the murderer.”

“Yes, we will,” I agreed, not bothering to add that Brian was no longer in charge of the investigation. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake by encouraging her to play detective. “Is Corinne bringing a date to the party?” I asked, more to change the subject than because I was interested.

“Are you kidding?” Felicity said scornfully. “Corinne hasn’t had a boyfriend since—”

“Since when?” I prodded.

“Since Johnny.”

“Johnny!” I exclaimed. “The guy who killed your pet ferret?”

“Yes,” she answered in her little-girl voice. “They used to go together. A long time ago.”

Felicity’s lip trembled.
Oh, no!

“What’s Corinne going as to the party?” I asked, hoping to stem the waterworks.

She wrinkled up her face. “A witch.”

I burst out laughing.

“She
is
a witch,” Felicity said. “Half the time she knows what I’m thinking before I say it out loud. And she’s always telling me what to do. I know I get too emotional sometimes, but I can handle more than she gives me credit.”

It was the most adult thing I’ve ever heard her say. “Did you try telling her that?”

“A few times.”

“What happened?”

“Corinne says she does what she does for my own good. She’s my older sister, and I’m supposed to listen to her. That upsets me so I start to cry. Then Corinne says, ‘See. You’re too emotional to make your own decisions.’” Felicity shrugged. “Maybe she’s right, since it always ends up like that.”

“Maybe you’re both right.”

“What do you mean?” Felicity asked.

“Maybe you can take charge of your own affairs gradually. Little by little.”

Felicity threw her arms around me. “You’re so smart, Lexie! I’m so glad you’re my friend.”

*****

Sunday evening, Brian came over at six o’clock. We polished off the avocado and tuna salads I’d prepared, along with a bottle of chardonnay. Then it was time to put on our pirate costumes. We stripped down to our underwear and, for some reason or other, started kissing.

We ended up in bed. It was our first time together and it went pretty well, I thought—thoroughly enjoyable, sexy, and friendly. I found myself still smiling as I cuddled up against Brian, his arm firmly around me under the quilt. I turned to look at him, and he kissed me lightly on the lips.

“I’ve been wanting to do this ever since we met,” he said.

“And now you have.”

He moved above me and grinned. “Again?”

“Mmm,” I answered. “Why not?”

Judging by the thumping rock music escaping from Sadie’s house, the party was in full swing when Brian and I arrived. Sadie met us at the door in a purple harem costume that showed off her slender figure. She downed the contents of her wine glass and giggled.

“Well, hello, Lexie. Tim and I were beginning to think you were a no show.”

I returned her air kiss. “Are you kidding? Brian and I wouldn’t miss your party for the world.” 

I handed her the bottle of wine we’d brought, and almost laughed aloud at her alarmed expression when she recognized the man beneath the eye patch and buccaneer’s hat.

“Detective Donovan,” she murmured. “How nice to see you.”

Tim, looking dashing in the colorful costume of a circus ringmaster, approached us with outstretched arms.

He winked as he bussed my cheek. “You look gorgeous in your sexy pirate costume. A welcome relief from your usual professorial attire.”

He shook Brian’s hand. “Welcome, Detective Donovan. I had no idea the police would be here tonight!”

I couldn’t tell if Tim was put out or being his usual wry self. I fluttered my mascaraed lashes in the best Betty Boop manner. “I hope that doesn’t present a problem.” I slipped my arm into Brian’s. “Sadie said to bring a date.”