1 Catered to Death (23 page)

“What kind of a history? I’m guessing they were in scouts together.”

“Yes, Frank was Simpson’s Boy Scout leader. I do think Frank must have gotten Simpson his teaching job at Eden Academy. You heard what Claudine said. It sounds like Frank did his former scout a favor.”

“Or maybe Simpson blackmailed Frank into giving the job to him.”

“Maybe he did. Simpson seemed to know a lot about Frank’s personal life.”

“Can you think of any reason why Simpson would want to see Monica dead too?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t like her but if people went around killing everyone they didn’t like, the population of the world would be about five.”

“Well, do we know if any of them had it in for both Frank and Monica?” We were almost home and the events of the day were starting to take their toll on me. All I wanted was to be inside my house with my family.

“Sylvia Ubermann would if she knew that the two of them were having an affair,” I observed.

“And Claudine would too for the same reason. You said that she was in love with Frank.”

“Junebug was mad at both of them for trying to get rid of her.”

We pulled into the driveway and never did the brick bungalow look so sweet. Steve put the car into
park
and sighed deeply. “I feel like I just ran the Boston Marathon but you’re right. I suppose we did find out a few things today. It felt kind of good.”

“It felt exciting.”

“Too exciting.”

“And we got Jane’s birthday present,” I added, pointing at the bag that contained the set of remarkably unattractive mugs that Jack Mulholland had foisted off on us and that our designer-label daughter was going to hate.

“That’s one plus,” Steve agreed. He leaned on the steering wheel and gazed through the windshield. “You know what we’re forgetting to do?”

“What?”

“Follow the money. That’s what Columbo always said. Who’s going to benefit the most from Frank’s death?”

“Well, from what we heard Claudine say, almost the whole staff is going to get a pay bump by using Frank’s salary and most likely Monica’s too.”

“But they’ll just get a few thousand,” Steve pointed out. “Frank’s widow is bound to get more than that.”

“So I guess you should try and talk to her next. She’d never talk to me.”

“I’m not sure how I’d get her to talk to me either. She dated Rod Singleton years ago. Maybe he could help out.”

“You’re kidding me!” Rod was a co-worker of Steve’s and had been married at least four times. I couldn’t imagine someone like Rod with someone like Sylvia. Then again, I couldn’t imagine someone like Frank Ubermann with someone like Sylvia either. “When did they date?”

“I don’t remember. It was between a couple of his marriages and before she married Ubermann I think.”

“So quite a while ago.”

“Yes, but I’m sure she still remembers him. Women don’t seem to forget Rod.”

“He is pretty unforgettable,” I agreed. Rod Singleton made Bill Clinton look positively puritanical.

“We’re leaving a couple of people out of all our speculations.”

I wrinkled my forehead. “Who?”

“Maxi and whoever cleans the school. Who does clean the school?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Ruth—but Steve, why would the bus driver or the cleaning person want to kill Frank Ubermann?”

“I sure don’t know.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Why would any of them? You’re probably right; out of all the people who work at the school I would guess that Maxi and the cleaning guy probably had the least to do with Frank. I think we should focus on Frank’s wife.”

“Sylvia,” I supplied.

“I think what I’ll do is get Rod to accidentally run into Sylvia and I’ll tag along. You said she works at the library?”

“That’s what I heard her say at the book club meeting. She works Tuesday evenings.”

“Then tomorrow night I’ll be home late for dinner.”

“I’m coming too,” I informed him as I got out of the car. “I wouldn’t want to miss that reunion.” Sylvia Ubermann and Rod Singleton. It was like trying to picture Marie Osmond dating the lead singer in a heavy metal band.

“I wonder if we should talk to the police and tell them what we know. After all, you
are
involved in this mess.”

“Only by proxy,” I reminded him, suddenly feeling exhausted and every single one of my years. “But maybe we should. It would be nice to know what’s going on. Do you suppose we can just drop in on the police or should we make an appointment?”

“Let me see what I can get out of Sylvia Ubermann,” Steve replied. “Then we might have a better idea of what we should do next. Now can we please go inside and have dinner? I’m starving.”

“You’re just like your son,” I told him. “Always thinking about food.”

But I was teasing Steve. I was thrilled to have Steve’s help. It was making all the difference in the world. Inside, I got some spaghetti sauce out of the freezer and plunked it into a sauce pan. After putting a pot of water on to boil, I stood at the stove, at least a thousand random thoughts running through my mind as I stirred the spaghetti sauce. I wondered if I should tell Steve about Tyler’s latest career aspiration to become a bartender. Then I wondered about the conversation we had overheard between Claudine and Simpson. It sounded to me like Claudine was taking over the reins at Eden Academy and also that Simpson was none too happy about it. Then I thought about the drapes in the guest bedroom that needed to be replaced. If Eden Academy paid me so I could pay my credit card bill, I could charge some new drapes that were on sale at Penney’s. Then I thought about Jane and how very much she was going to hate the coffee mugs we’d gotten her for her birthday.

Carefully, I stirred the pot of spaghetti sauce, staring transfixed as small bubbles appeared and then erupted. That’s what I felt my life had become: a series of small bubbles rising to the surface and then popping before I had the time to figure out what the heck any of them meant or what I was supposed to do about them. One thing was certain: Frank Ubermann and Monica Webber were both still dead and their killer—or killers—were still free, possibly walking down the street my family lived on at that very moment.

I shivered. While I didn’t want to go and talk to the police, I also didn’t relish the thought of a killer walking around Kemper. Frank Ubermann had been murdered with a bow and arrow and Monica had been thrown under the Eden Academy bus. Someone was responsible for both of their deaths. And that someone needed to be found.

“Mom! Is dinner ready
yet
?” Tyler came into the kitchen, pulling me out of my reverie and back into my warm, fragrant kitchen. As usual, my family pulled me out of any brooding I might be tempted to do and into the far preferable present.

“Ten minutes,” I told Tyler. “Sit down and keep me company. How’s your friend doing—the one who wanted to marry Monica?”

Tyler sat down at the table. “He’s a lot better. He met someone new and he’s going out with her tonight.”

“Didn’t mourn too long, did he?”

Tyler shrugged. “I guess it wasn’t true love after all.”

“Apparently not.” But as I spoke, I wondered. True love and Monica. Was that even possible?

Chapter Twenty

“There she is—the short one with the brown hair and the bangs.” I elbowed Steve in the ribs a few seconds after we walked through the steel and glass front doors of the Kemper Library. We paused in the foyer where we couldn’t be seen.

“Are you serious?” Steve asked incredulously as he stared at the petite brunette.

“That’s her all right,” Rod Singleton observed from behind us, his heavy breathing reminding me of an old dog that needed a nap. “She hasn’t changed a bit.”

“She looks too normal to go out with you,” Steve said. “How long did you two date?”

“Let’s see,” Rod replied. “Maybe three seconds? We had one date and that was it. She was separated from her hubby at the time and they got back together almost immediately.”

“Sylvia and Frank were separated?” That shocked me. Sylvia seemed way too devoted to Frank to leave him for even a day. Then again, maybe he left her.

“Do you think she’ll remember you?” Steve asked.

“Are you kidding me? The ladies never forget Rod the Bod.”

Steve eyed Rod’s forty-two inch stomach. “I’m afraid there’s a lot more Bod now than there used to be, buddy.”

“Just more to love,” Rod assured him. “Now come on, if I’m going to help you with this Nancy Drew crap, then I’m also going to have a little fun while I’m doing it.”

“I’ll go sit in the magazine section,” I said as I pulled the knitted hat I was wearing down over more of my face. I was wearing a trench coat and had borrowed a long blonde wig from a friend of mine. I also put on a lot more makeup than I usually wore. With the wig, the coat, the hat and the garish makeup, I doubted Sylvia would recognize me but just to be on the safe side I was also wearing my dark glasses. I was pretty sure that my own mother wouldn’t even recognize me.

“Just be careful,” Steve requested. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“I’ll keep my back to the action,” I promised.

“You be careful too,” Steve asked Rod. “Don’t tip our hand.”

“I’m still a little unclear on just what you hope I’ll discover,” Steve said.

“Do some digging and see if she confesses killing her husband to you, Rod the Bod.”

“Do you honestly think she’ll see me and confess just like that?”

“No, but you’re our best hope,” Steve told him. “Charm her. We all know you’re good at that.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Rod agreed.

“At least find out about her life insurance,” I urged. “But be subtle. You don’t want to scare her off.”

“DeeDee, I don’t scare women—I cherish them and it shows. All the women love to tell me their deep, dark secrets.”

We broke out of our small knot. I walked quickly to the area of the library where all the current magazines were displayed and grabbed a copy of
People
with Justin Bieber on the cover. Steve wandered over to the shelf labeled “New Books” and, smiling widely, Rod approached the circulation desk. He cleared his throat dramatically. Peering over the top of the magazine, I saw Sylvia raise her head and look up at him.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a do-it-yourself book on bondage––oh, my gosh, is that you Sylvia?”

Sylvia stared at him with disapproving eyes that were the exact color of Tootsie Rolls. She actually looked a lot like a Tootsie Roll that evening in her brown jumper and with the round white collar. The disapproving frown quickly vanished and was replaced by astonishment. “Rod? Rod Singleton?”

“As I live and breathe. I didn’t know you worked here, Sylvia. It’s been years. How’ve you been?”

Steve sat down next to me and pretended to thumb through the latest issue of the
Smithsonian.
I lowered my eyes back to
People
but kept my ears in Bionic Woman mode.

“…awful. Hideous—a nightmare!” Rod’s loud voice made eavesdropping extremely simple. “I read about the whole thing in the newspaper and it shocked me beyond belief. I couldn’t believe that your husband had been murdered.”

Sylvia’s voice was softer, as befitted a librarian. “Thank you for your condolences. It’s still hard to believe that I’m a widow.”

“Are you all right, Sylvia? Financially, I mean. I know we didn’t date for very long––”

“We had one date, Rod.”

“That’s what I mean. But if you need help, let me know. I’m not rich but I could float you a few bucks if you needed cash.”

“That’s very sweet of you but it isn’t necessary.” Sylvia was touched by Rod’s remark, I could tell. It was generous and he probably meant it. Rod was a bit of a ladies’ man but he also had an extremely soft heart.

“Thank you again but I’m all right. Frank had a large life insurance policy.”

Steve and I exchanged glances. So Sylvia had made out all right. If we were going to follow the money, it was going to lead to Frank’s widow.

“Do the police have any idea of who killed your husband?”

Fortunately, the library was fairly empty or I’m sure that Sylvia wouldn’t have continued having such a personal conversation with a patron. On the other hand, maybe she would. From the little I had seen of Sylvia Ubermann, she didn’t seem to mind an audience.

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me
anything
. Everything’s so confused. And then with that horrible assistant of his being murdered—of course, I’m sorry about that and everything but she really wasn’t a very nice person—well, it’s made the nightmare go on and on and on.”

Rod lowered his voice a tad. “Do you know who might have done it, Syl?”

I peeked over the top of the magazine again and watched as Sylvia’s face turned a bright shade of pink. “I’m not sure but I have my suspicions.”

“Who?” Rod pressed.

Sylvia leaned forward and whispered something to Rod. Rod’s eyebrows slowly moved upward. “Really?” he asked.

“That’s just my opinion,” Sylvia responded, “but I think it’s a pretty good one.”

“But why would a colleague want to murder both of them?”

“Jealousy. Claudine Markham was in love with my husband and she knew that he’d never leave me. I think Claudine killed Frank and that tramp assistant of his. I only hope she doesn’t come after me.”

Steve got to his feet and gestured with his chin for me to follow him. After waiting a few seconds, I put
People
back on the shelf and headed for the door. As I walked past Rod and Sylvia I heard Rod ask, “I don’t suppose you’re dating yet?”

Sylvia’s response was muffled by the opening of the library’s front door. Steve was waiting for me to catch up with him. “Did you hear what Sylvia said?”

“I sure did. Do you think she’s right?”

I shrugged. “It had to be someone. Claudine is as good a bet as anyone.”

Steve leaned down and kissed me. “OK, our next move is to talk to Simpson and then I’ll try my luck with Claudine.”

“I wish we could talk to all of them together,” I said. “It would be nice to see all of them together and see how they react to each other without Frank’s presence. Or Monica’s.”

“It would be good but how could you manage that?”

“Give me a day or two and I’ll think of something,” I told him. “I still haven’t been paid and the last thing I want is for the school to forget about me.”

Steve laughed. “Honey, no one could ever forget about you.”