1 Catered to Death (20 page)

“The police are going to want to talk to you,” Sylvia warned. “I’m sure they’re looking for you as we speak.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop being such a ninny, Sylvia,” Junebug instructed. “You’re putting a regular death pall over my party. Now get a grip and think for once in your life. Why would Doris here want to kill Frank? She didn’t even know him.”

“She says she didn’t know him,” Sylvia responded. “As much as it pains me to say it, I’ve heard that one before and always from women like her.” She winced. “I know that Frank could be something of a flirt. I’m guessing that
she––”
Sylvia glared at me, “mistook some innocent flirting for real interest and then killed him when she realized that he wasn’t serious.”

This woman was completely unreal. “I knew him for about an hour! How could I decide I was in love with your husband enough to want to kill him that fast? You’re making me sound like Glenn Close in
Fatal Attraction.”

“Mom,” Tyler stepped forward and took my arm, “come on. You don’t need to listen to this crap.”

“All I’m saying is that no one had ever heard of you before and then you show up and Frank dies. It seems very odd to me,” Sylvia said.

“That is plain stupid,” I responded.

“So did she or didn’t she poison the chili?” I heard another guest ask.

“Come
on,
Mom,” Tyler said.

Dazed, I followed him through the crowd. “I have no idea what she’s talking about,” I whispered to Tyler as we walked away from Sylvia.

“Everyone knows that. You’re about the last person in the world who could ever kill someone. That lady is nuts.”

Although I agreed with my son’s assessment of Sylvia Ubermann, my mom instinct kicked in. Steve and I had raised Tyler and Jane to never call other people names and never to label anyone. “She’s misguided,” I corrected, “and very wrong.”

“She’s crazy,” Tyler said flatly. “You could tell by the look in her eyes. Who is she, anyway?”

“Her husband is the man who was killed during my first catering job,” I explained.

“So? You didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Apparently Sylvia Ubermann thinks otherwise.”

“That whole school sounds like a death trap anyway,” Tyler observed. “First, the principal gets it and then that other lady.”

“How did you hear about Monica Webber’s death?”

Tyler shrugged. “A friend of mine was…dating her.”

I stopped walking as my eyebrows zoomed directly to my hairline. Most of Tyler’s friends looked just like Tyler: tattooed, pierced and a little scary. I couldn’t imagine someone like Monica with one of them. Plus Monica had to have been at least fifteen years older than Tyler and his friends. “You’re kidding me! Who?”

“No one you’d know. We aren’t really friends. We just hang out together sometimes.”

“So how do you know he was dating Monica?”

“Are you kidding me? He told everyone they were dating. He wanted to marry her as soon as he got his sentencing thing straightened out.”

“Do you know if she wanted to marry him or did he just have an active fantasy life?”

Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know but it sounded like they were going to get married. They’d booked a club for the reception and everything. He’s pretty broken up over her death.”

Wow. So Monica had someone other than Frank in her life. “Does your friend have any idea of who might have wanted to see Monica dead?”

“No clue. Look, Mom, I think you should go home before that woman starts accusing you of something again. You can take my car. I’ll stay behind and tend the bar.”

“Thank you, darling,” I said grateful for Tyler’s sudden take charge attitude, “but I can’t do that. This is my job and I’m going to see it through to the end.”

“Whatever you say,” Tyler responded, “but I’ll be nearby if you need me. Just don’t go near that crazy woman.”

“I won’t,” I promised, kissing Tyler on the cheek.

Ruth joined us. “That Sylvia,” she said. “Imagine accusing you of killing Frank! That woman has always been impossible. I don’t know what Frank ever saw in her other than her money.”

“Maybe that was enough. You don’t think anyone believed her, do you?” I asked.

“Of course not. Why would you kill him and Monica? It had to be done by the same person.”

“That’s just what I was telling her,” Tyler said. “Would you like a refill?”

Ruth handed him her empty wine glass. “I sure would.” She looked at me. “You’re so lucky to have a son like him,” Ruth said. “It must be nice having someone you can depend on.”

She spoke so wistfully that I wondered about the kind of relationship she really had with her daughter. One thing was obvious: it couldn’t be a very honest one if Amanda still didn’t know that the late Frank Ubermann was her real father. “I am lucky,” I agreed. And in spite of just being accused of murder in front of approximately fifty people, I did feel pretty lucky. I had Steve, my kids, my new business and a clear conscience. All I needed was that darn first paycheck from Eden Academy.

Chapter Seventeen

“Dee Dee, anyone who knows you for more than five minutes would realize that the odds of you offing Frank Ubermann are about the same as the Cubs taking the pennant,” Steve told me later that night as I filled him in on the McClellan’s party.

“It’s still scary to think that I’m getting painted with same brush as everyone else who works at that stupid school. It isn’t fair. Why would Sylvia think I could have had anything to do with her husband’s death? Or Monica’s? I have absolutely no motive.”

“Of course you didn’t. You just had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Do you suppose that everyone in Kemper thinks I might have done it?”

 
“Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“I do.” I got up from the kitchen table and began to heat some milk in a saucepan. “I feel like I’ve gotten on a treadmill and someone has cranked up the speed way out of my comfort zone.”

“You have to consider the source, DeeDee. Sylvia Ubermann sounds like an angry, bitter woman.”

“Well, considering her husband’s reputation with the ladies I don’t suppose that’s all that unexpected. Then again, at the book club meeting I heard her tell another member how faithful Frank was to her. She seemed truly devastated. This whole thing is confusing the daylights out of me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do you think she believes that—that he was faithful to her?”

“Not really. I mean, if you were running around on me, I’d deny it to the rest of the world too. Although I wouldn’t deny it to myself.”

“Not to worry,” Steve said, getting up and walking to the counter where I was standing. He gave me a warm hug that felt wonderful. “I’d never run around on you. You know that. We were made for each other.”

“And also because you know that if you did run around on me, I’d kill you.” I slapped my hand over her mouth. “Oh, Steve! I didn’t mean that!”

Steve hugged me a little harder. “I know what you meant.”

“But maybe Sylvia
did
kill Frank.”

“And it sounds like he gave her ample reasons to want to see him dead.”

“But why would she kill Monica? A cheating husband is one thing but an innocent bystander is something else.”

“You’re assuming the same person killed both of them.”

“Do you think there’s more than one murderer on the loose?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

“But why?”

“Well, obviously there’s a link there that neither of us can see.” Steve yawned widely. “Honey, do you suppose that we can just forget about it for the rest of tonight? The more you think about Sylvia and Frank and Monica, the longer it’s going to take you to settle down.”

“I’m settling down,” I assured him as I poured the warm milk into a mug with MOM written across its side. “I feel a lot better just being home with you.”

“Drink your milk and then come to bed.”

“You don’t want any?”

“No, I’m too tired.”

“One good thing about tonight,” I said before Steve left the kitchen. “Tyler was awesome. Really wonderful. He came through for me wonderfully, Steve. You would have been proud of him.”

“I always knew the kid had it in him.” He yawned again and I could see that he was about to fall asleep on his feet.

“Go to bed,” I instructed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. I really do feel better. Thanks, Steve.”

But as soon as Steve left the kitchen, I felt my face set in lines of worry. This had all gone far enough. Before sitting down at the kitchen table, I grabbed a yellow legal pad out of a drawer along with a felt tip pen. After thinking for a few moments, I began to write.

Steps to follow to find out who murdered Frank Ubermann:

1.
 
Who was at the luncheon?

2.
 
Who had reason to want to see F.U. dead?

3.
 
Who took F.U.’s job after he died?

4.
 
How much money did F.U.’s wife inherit?

5.
 
Who is the least likely suspect?

6.
 
Who is the most likely suspect?

7.
 
How the hell will I get paid now that Monica is dead?

I studied the list with a frown. Maybe if Steve helped me, I could figure some of this out. I needed his help because so far I hadn’t really found out all that much other than the ice cold fact that working at Eden Academy was very dangerous for one’s health.

Steve reappeared in the kitchen, his hair still tousled but not looking quite as out of it. “Dee Dee,” he said. “We need to talk. You can’t do this on your own. You need my help.”

“Can you read my mind or
what
?” I asked. It was times like this when I really loved my husband. Of course, I always love Steve but I truly wonder how many husbands would offer to help their wives solve a murder? No doubt about it, Steve was one in a million. “I’ve been feeling a little bit overwhelmed with all of this but are you sure you want to get into this now? Don’t you want to go to bed?”

“We will, but right now I need to get a game plan in action before I can sleep. I think we should make up a list of what we should tackle first.”

“That’s just what I was doing!” I showed Steve my list. He pulled his glasses out of his robe pocket and began to read. “Oh, Steve, thank you. I know we’ll crack this together. It’s been tough doing it on my own.”

“You’ve been doing fine,” Steve assured me, his eyes still focused on the list. “I’m just thinking that maybe I can get information out of some of the suspects that’s been eluding you. They’re all identifying you with that luncheon, so, of course, they aren’t going to share all that much with you. Maybe they’ll tell me more.”

“Claudine will for sure,” I said. “She obviously has a weakness for attractive men. And Junebug will talk to you. She’s very friendly in her own peculiar kind of way.”

 
“Do you think Junebug has any reason to want Frank dead other than the fact that he wanted her to leave?”

“None that I know of. I think she wasn’t too happy that he was pushing her out the door and I also think she was getting her revenge by refusing to leave. I heard her mention at the party tonight that she has a lawyer on retainer.”

“How could anyone who works for a school afford to keep a lawyer on retainer?” Steve questioned, looking up from the list. “Especially a private school like Eden Academy. That can’t pay too well.”

“Junebug has bucks. Big bucks. You should see their house, Steve. They live up in Equestrian Estates in a gorgeous place.”

“So why does she work?”

“It’s her way of getting her taxes back,” I explained. “Junebug told Ruth that she pays so much in taxes that she looks at what she gets from the school as her just due.”

“Kind of hazy reasoning but I suppose I can sort of see her point—although if she lives in Equestrian Estates I’m guessing that she has more than enough money to pay her taxes and then some. So Junebug is a possible suspect,” Steve mused, “but probably a pretty unlikely one. I’ll put her down as most unlikely suspect.”

“I don’t know about that,” I disagree. “When I went up to see her the other day, she was target shooting in her backyard with a bow and arrow and she was darn good.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve drew a line through Junebug’s name. “How good?”

“Dead on, I’d say. Plus there were several trophies on her porch for all kinds of athletic events. Junebug is in great shape for her age.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t put her down as least likely?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see her being the murderer. She’s too old to risk going to prison.”

“We have to keep open minds, DeeDee. Let’s face it: everyone’s a suspect.”

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “Oh, Steve, how are we going to do this? I’m not even very good at remembering where I left my grocery list. How can we possibly think that the two of us could solve a real, live murder?”

“Because if we don’t, the police might come here and start questioning you,” Steve reminded me. “If they do, I want to be able to tell them about a group of people with far better motives than you had.”

“So what are you planning on doing?” I asked.

Steve folded the list and then put it in his robe pocket. “I’m going to talk to the staff at the school and see what I can find out.”

“How are you going to do that? You can’t say that you’re handing out cupcake samples on my behalf.”

“I don’t plan on mentioning that I’m married to you. I think it would be better if no one made any kind of connection between the two of us.”

“Ruth already met you,” I reminded him, “and so did Maxie.”

“I’ll avoid both of them, I promise. Don’t worry; I’ll think of something.”

 
“Did you know you’re wonderful?”

“Not really. Just highly protective of the woman I love.”

I leaned over and kissed him. Steve
was
wonderful and I was very happy that I was married to him and not some player like the late Frank Ubermann. Honestly, I don’t know how Sylvia had put up with that man and his shenanigans for so many years. If it turned out that Sylvia had killed Frank, I couldn’t in all honesty say that I blamed her. “I feel a lot better with you in my corner, Steve.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Steve replied after he returned my kiss. “Now let’s figure out our next move. You’ve talked to Claudine, Sylvia, Junebug and Ruth,” he said, ticking off the names on his fingers. “Who else was at the lunch?”

“Simpson Ingalls and Jack Mulholland,” I recalled. “And Frank, of course. And Monica. Oh, and the student teacher but she can’t be a suspect. She’s too young.”

“Junebug is too old and the student teacher is too young. Doesn’t wash, babe. Anyone can commit murder.” Steve looked over the top of his reading glasses at his me. “It’s a good thing I’m helping you. I think you might be too nice to solve a murder.”

“And you’re not?”

“Well, let’s just say I’m not as trusting as you are. All right. Who do you think I should talk to first?”

“Definitely, Jack Mulholland,” I responded immediately. “I haven’t had any luck tracking him down. He isn’t in the phone book and I haven’t dared go over to the Academy to talk to him.”

 
“I seem to recall his name coming up and being connected with some kind of scandal at the college a few years back,” Steve said thoughtfully. He snapped his fingers. “I remember now! I’m pretty sure Jack Mulholland was having an affair with one of the art professors. Seems her husband walked in on them in the act and had a heart attack.”

“Who did—Jack or the husband?”

“The husband.”

“Did he die?”

“No, but he did divorce his wife.”

“But how are you going to go in and talk to him though? I know! What if you went to the school and pretended to be interested in his art work? He makes pottery that he sells all over the state. He said so at the luncheon I catered.”

“That’s a great idea, DeeDee.
 
Jane’s birthday is coming up so I’ll find something for her. Now can we please get to bed? I’m exhausted.”

Now it was my turn to look doubtful. “I don’t know if Jane would like handmade pottery for her birthday––”

“If she doesn’t like it, we’ll give it to your mom for Christmas,” Steve said. “Now, please, let’s go to bed.”

“With pleasure,” I told him. “Do you think I could come with you?”

“To interrogate Jack Mulholland? How could we manage that?”

“I could wear a wig and glasses. Please, Steve, I want us to do all of this together.”

“If you can come up with a great disguise, then why not?”

“Great! I just have this feeling that four eyes and four ears are going to be way better than two.”

“Now can we go to bed?”

“Let’s go.”

We were under the covers in three minutes. And asleep in twenty.