Murder at the Book Group (7 page)

“You asked if Carlene and I were close. We weren't, then we were, then her marriage strained our relationship for quite a while, but over the past couple of years we slowly got closer again. The strain was more on her part, guilt I guess. I got over being dumped pretty damn fast. It's not that Evan and I had a future anyway . . . Like I said, the sex was fabulous, some of the best I've had, and I've been around the block a time or two, believe me.” We did. “But I guess you would know how good he is, Hazel.”

“I never kiss and tell.” I tried for an airy tone. While I had fond enough bedroom memories of Evan, I didn't care to compare notes with others on lovers in common. One of my fictional characters engaged in such cheesy behavior, but I believed in discretion.

I couldn't help but wonder how “damn fast” Kat recovered from being dumped. Great sex plus Evan's lottery winnings made him quite a catch. Although I never knew how much he'd won. With my transparent face, I'd best limit my wondering until after Kat left. “More muffins?” I held the basket out to Kat, hoping to distract any attention from my suspicious thoughts.

“Um . . . yes, I think I will. Surprisingly, this whole business hasn't affected my appetite. It occurs to me that you two may be wondering if I was
really
over Evan.” I sighed and vowed to go shopping for a poker face. Kat went on, again getting crumbs everywhere. “Like maybe I longed for him all these years and finally just had to have him. Ridiculous. Why wait this long? I'm not a patient woman. Besides, our Evan turned out to be very possessive and domineering.”

“You're kidding!” Lucy looked at me. “I never heard you mention that, Hazel.”

“He wasn't like that with me.”

“Nor with me,” Kat said, her tone wry. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “Carlene brought out something in him that should have—I don't know—stayed in.”

I remembered my earlier, unasked question. “Do you think that's why they separated?”

“I'm not sure. I can't help but think the reason was sex-related, like maybe Carlene couldn't appreciate Evan's talents in that department. She was a god-awful prude in high school.”

“Really?” Lucy asked.

“To an extreme. I tried my best to educate her about the pleasures of the flesh, get her interested, but she just wanted to study.” Kat raised her eyes to the ceiling to convey her attitude toward studying.

“And she never married before Evan?”

“No. She was forty-five when they tied the knot.”

“Kat, how did you and Evan meet?” Lucy asked.

“At the gym. I was his personal trainer. It's the best job for meeting guys. All that sweat and state of undress.” Kat gave one of her bawdy laughs. Then she looked concerned. “Are you sure you're okay with all of this, Hazel?”

“Absolutely,” I assured her with great aplomb. “Granted, you threw me for a loop. It was all news to me. But, like I said, Evan and I were married, and divorced, an eternity ago.”

“How long's an eternity?”

“We married in 1972. What's that—thirty-three years? We were seniors in college.”

“And how long did you stay together?”

“Two years.”

“I imagine your parents weren't too happy about your getting married before you graduated.”

“That's putting it mildly. Mine weren't crazy about the whole idea, but they accepted it. On the other hand, Evan's parents were very unhappy when we married and very happy when we divorced. At the wedding they wouldn't speak to me or anyone else in my family. I never knew why. Fortunately for Carlene, they both died before she and Evan met so she was spared hostile in-laws.” Then I added, “That's assuming their hostility wasn't reserved for me in particular.” An image of them meeting Kat sprang up in my mind and I tried to hide my smile.

But Kat seemed to divine my thoughts. Giving me a shrewd look, she said, “I'm sure you're thinking ‘What if Kat met Evan's parents?' I know I'm not the kind of woman a guy brings home to Mom. But we live with our choices, don't we?” I reminded myself that I'd best cease thinking in her presence. Or in any book group member's presence. She laughed, then asked, “If you don't mind my asking, why did you and Evan split up? Was it the hostile parents?”

“They contributed somewhat, but I didn't see them very much even though they didn't live far away. The real reason, I guess, was . . . youth.” I was going to leave it at that. I limited discussions of my past, preferring, like Carlene, to move forward. But I found myself continuing. “I'm serious—we were too young. And, like I said before, he wasn't possessive when we were married. Quite—” I stopped before saying “quite the opposite.” I didn't want to get into Evan's open-marriage phase.

Kat and Lucy waited for me to continue, but I didn't satisfy their curiosity. Finally Kat asked, “But you and Evan are friends now. Did you stay in touch over the years, or did you meet up here in Richmond?”

How much did I want to reveal? If Kat was so gung-ho that Carlene hadn't committed suicide, I didn't want to give her any reason to suspect me of doing the evil deed. If I could suspect Kat, she could examine my motives as well. I caught Lucy watching me with her pewter eyes. Would she come to my rescue and change the subject? But she just clicked away with her needles, and I couldn't wait indefinitely, so I said, hoping I wouldn't let something slip, “We always kept in touch. Like I said, I lived in L.A. for years, so we only saw each other when I came back east to visit. Dinner mostly. We sent each other Christmas and birthday cards, and occasionally talked on the phone.” I didn't add that the cards had stopped once Carlene came on the scene. As had almost any contact with Evan.

Kat wore a “well, that's interesting” look on her face. “I'm sure it's none of my business, but I have to ask. Did you ever want to get back together?”

I felt like agreeing that it was indeed none of her business, but I controlled myself. “I thought about it from time to time, but always came to the conclusion that we were meant to be just friends—definitely not married.”

Lucy offered, “Hazel's mother always liked Evan. She wanted them to remarry.” She continued. “She didn't like any of your other husbands, especially that one you were married to for thirteen years. Then there was that other guy you went around with in L.A. She didn't like him either.”

“Bill Mason. Funny, I thought she did like him. She confided her true feelings to you more than to me.” Funny, because my mom never really got along well with Lucy. “But let's move on. We don't need to rehash my failed marriages.”

But apparently we did, because Kat asked, “How many husbands have you had, Hazel? And why didn't your mother like the thirteen-year guy?”

Seeing Kat as she leaned forward, looking her usual animated self, I reconsidered my reluctance to discuss my sorry marital history. If I could divert this discussion from Evan and the events of last night, I'd best grab the opportunity. I briefly summarized my marriages, starting with Bobby Dee, my second husband. We lived together for three years until I got fed up with his philandering and moved out. As neither of us were in a hurry to remarry I didn't bother to divorce him for twelve years. At age thirty-eight, I decided to get my life in order, which meant that hubby number two had to go—legally, that is.

A couple of years later, I married Dan Ricci. That happy union lasted for one year and twelve days. I lost no time in divorcing him.

“What happened there?” Kat asked.

“Cabin fever.” Not surprisingly, my terse response didn't work. This time I caved in to Kat and Lucy's expectant looks. “We went to Yosemite and stayed in a cabin. Let's just say it was too close for comfort. However, to his credit, Dan was faithful at least.”

“Okay: Evan, Bobby, Dan. Anyone else?” Kat's ticking off the names of my exes on her fingers left me feeling unsettled. Did Elizabeth Taylor ever feel like this?

“The Republican with the earring.” Lucy was enjoying herself.

“Yes. Richard.” I laughed as I remembered him. “Despite the earring, he turned out to be way too conservative for me.”

“The earring fooled you, huh?” Kat chuckled. “Tell me about him.”

“There's not much to say about Richard. He was your average trendy Republican.” I laughed and shrugged at the same time. “We filed for divorce, but he died before it became final.”

“Died? How?”

I described Richard's death during a skiing weekend at California's Mammoth Lakes when he'd managed to wrap himself around a tree, leaving me a widow. He and some sweet young thing had been celebrating our impending divorce. I ad-libbed the sweet part, but as she'd had the temerity to show up at the funeral as the bereaved, um,
mistress,
I could attest to her youth.

Kat looked closely at me. “I can't tell if you're sad or not, Hazel. You're so—I don't know, matter-of-fact about it.”

“Yeah, well, it was just another one of those married-today, divorced-tomorrow deals. Widowed, not divorced. Not that I hated him, but still . . .” I trailed off, eloquence eluding me. In truth I had a soft spot in my heart for Richard, mainly because his untimely death had left me financially secure. He'd kept his net worth a secret during a marriage so brief that he died before we could file a joint tax return.

After a pause, Kat pursued a different line of questioning. “So, Hazel, what made you decide to move to Richmond?”

“All those marriages took a toll on me. I found myself at loose ends and needed a change. Lucy had lost her husband recently as well, so she invited me to stay with her for a while.” If I went with the long version of the story, and usually I didn't, I'd go on to say that after Richard died I reviewed my options. I no longer needed to endure my high-stress job as a systems analyst for an L.A. publishing company, but I had only three months to go until I was fully vested in my company's 401k plan. The “only” three months turned out to be very long, but they finally came to an end. With great satisfaction I gave my resignation to my Generation X boss—or was it Generation Y or Z? I never got a grip on those alphabetic designations for generations. But he
was
young.

I instantly regretted my decision to skip the long version, as Kat's next question was, “Did Evan know you were moving back here?” I guess it was inevitable that the conversation would turn back to Evan, no matter how many stories I told to delay the moment.

I sighed. “Yes, he did know. As I mentioned earlier, we talked occasionally.” I didn't tell Kat that during that pre-move conversation with Evan, remarriage with him seemed like a possibility. A possibility never realized. It occurred to me that Kat and Evan's torrid affair coincided with that same conversation. So Kat and I shared an Evan-related loss at about the same time.

“How did he react?”

“React? He said it would be great to see each other more often.”

“And did you?”

“Not really.”

Kat raised her eyebrows but didn't comment further on Evan. “Well, Hazel, I didn't realize you had such an interesting past.” Kat seemed to have new respect for me now that I'd joined the ranks of those with an “interesting past.”

Lucy looked at the cat-shaped clock on the kitchen wall. “Yes, I always enjoy visiting Hazel's interesting past. But I have to cut my visit short—I have a lunch appointment at noon.” She put her knitting away in a bag by the sofa and stood. Lucy managed a placement agency in downtown Richmond. She'd canceled an earlier appointment in favor of a debriefing of the events of the night before.

Kat glanced at a leopard bracelet watch that had until now been hidden under her jacket sleeve. I knew she had to have a leopard item somewhere on her person. Now she said, “I've got to get going too. It's almost eleven.” She and Lucy hugged before Lucy sprinted up the stairs. Then Kat rooted through that bag of hers that was large enough to hold all her worldly possessions and maybe even mine and checked her cell phone for messages.

“Let us know about the funeral,” I said, again feeling the vague hurt that I wasn't family. If I were, I could be involved in the funeral arrangements. “By the way, do you have a cell number for Evan?”

She gave me a look, like she was debating with herself whether she could trust me. I guess I passed muster because she pulled her phone out of her pocket, checked her contact list, and read off a number that I jotted down on a napkin, my envelopes still under the cushion. I wondered what her reluctance was about—a possible reigniting of their relationship offered a possible explanation.

Kat gently dislodged a reluctant Shammy from her lap. As we walked to the door, she pronounced, “We need to find out who killed Carlene. If we ask around, someone might remember something that's significant. Someone killed her, and I for one am going to find out who it was.” She slanted a look at me. “I'd love to have your help with this, Hazel.”

I gulped. “Kat, that's a very bad idea. If someone killed her, we don't want to be the next victims.”

Kat looked heavenward. “Oh, spare me the mother hen bit. You need to hook up with Vince again. Get him to ditch that red-haired woman. And I guess I'll have to give in to Mick. With the two of them in our back pockets, we'll have access to information
and
protection.”

At my questioning look, Kat explained about Mick Jairdullo. “He's this cop I know from the gym and he's been bugging me to go out with him. He's great-looking, body to die for, sexy, the whole bit. But he's got this crazy girlfriend who he claims he's trying to break up with. Beverly. Real nut job. I don't want to get in the middle of that relationship. But”—she threw up her hands—“you gotta do what you gotta do—it's all in the name of justice.”