A Quiche Before Dying (17 page)

Sure enough, there was a large cone of white paper sitting on the porch.

Jane bid Missy good-bye and walked back to the house. She took the flowers in and tore off the paper. It was a lovely fresh arrangement, all in blues and whites in a glazed white bowl. Jane searched among the blooms for a card, but there was none. She noticed the name of the florist on the wrapping paper, but decided not to call and ask.

It must have come from Mel, she thought. What a nice, romantic gesture.

17

“What a beautiful arrangement!“ Cecily said, looking at the flowers that were still sitting on the kitchen counter. “Who are they from?“

“I presume they’re from Mel, but there’s no card. What are all these things, anyway? I think this is a Shasta daisy, but I don’t recognize any of the blue ones.“

“I don’t either. Jane, is this serious? With Mel?“

“ Oh, Mom, I don’t know. I don’t think so. We don’t have anything in common.“

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter,“ Cecily said. “In fact, that very thing can be a good basis for a relationship. It means constant discovery.“

“Except Mel isn’t interested in discovering my world—housework, kids, homework, school carnivals. And I can’t say that I blame him. It’s all necessary, but it’s not fascinating. And frankly, I feel the same about his job. Necessary, but pretty boring except times like this when it has a connection with me. I can’t see us ever having scintillating conversations about what kind of powder they use to pick up fingerprints.“

“Jane, dear, you’re talking about jobs, not what you are inside.“

“But, Mom, I’ve been a housewife and mother for so long that what I
do
has become what I
am. “

The phone rang. “Hello? Oh, hi, Mel,“ Jane said. Cecily found a sudden errand to do elsewhere. “Mel, Missy told me about Grady.“

“Oh? What did she tell you?“ he asked cautiously.

“That his wife’s been in a coma for ages and is a relative of Mrs. Pryce’s. You hadn’t mentioned that.“

“He asked me to keep it confidential, and I agreed to if it had no bearing on the case.“

“And it doesn’t?“

“So far, it appears not. His wife isn’t closely enough related to inherit. There are at least seven grandchildren ahead of her. And even if they were gone, there are a couple great-grandchildren. We’ve also had accountants going over the city’s books. Unless Grady’s twice as smart as all of them put together, there isn’t a penny missing. How come Missy told you this? How did she know?“

“Oh, they’re friends, I guess. It probably had to do with his autobiography for class,“ Jane said. If Mel could keep a confidence, so could she.

“We have a policewoman skimming her books, too.“

“Why?“

“To see if there’s any suggestion in any of them that she’s knowledgeable about poisons.”

Jane laughed. “Mel, they’re romances. People don’t get poisoned in romances. And frankly—no, never mind.“ She’d been about to lambaste him for having a policewoman read the books, as if the books weren’t something a man could bother with. Or maybe a man would have his machismo impaired by close association with romances. But she wasn’t sure he was ready for another lecture or that she wanted to risk giving one.

“You never know,“ he said mildly, not realizing what he’d missed.

“Mel, thank you for the flowers. They’re absolutely beautiful. I’m going to keep them here in the kitchen where I can enjoy them while I work.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Flowers? Somebody sent you flowers?“

“It wasn’t you?“

“No, I’m afraid it wasn’t.“

“Oh, how embarrassing. I’m sorry. But if it wasn’t you—“ She stopped, realizing it wasn’t a good idea to mention that there was no one else in the world who would think to send her flowers. “There wasn’t a card, and I thought—“

“No,“ he said tightly. “It must have been another admirer.“

“Maybe so,“ she said with hysterical brightness. “So, is there anything new with the investigation?”

He was silent for a minute. Then, “No, we’re plodding along. Don’t worry, though. We’ll get the crucial evidence eventually. If a killing isn’t a clear domestic disturbance, which most of them are, it usually takes some time to work it out step by step. You have to understand, Jane, that with all the technical advances in law enforcement—”

Jane wasn’t listening to his lecture. She was staring across the room at the flowers. If Mel didn’t send them, who the hell did? She waited until he’d wound down and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Desiree Loftus is on an herb binge. Shelley and I went over there, and her house is full of plants. She’s brewing up health teas and things.”

She didn’t need to explain to him why it might be important. “Okay, we’ll check it out.“ He held his hand partially over the phone and had a muffled conversation, then came back to her and said, “Sorry, I’ve got to go.“

“I’ll talk to you later. Good-bye,“ Jane said. Nice. He either forgot the purpose of his call or there was no purpose except to talk to her.

Jane stood for a moment, then called Missy’s number. She got her answering machine. She hated talking to the things, but in this case, did. “Missy, this is a stupid question, but would you call and confirm that Grady didn’t send me those flowers that were on my front porch? I know he didn’t, but I need to be sure—“ There was a click as the answering machine hung up. Missy apparently didn’t like getting long messages and had it set accordingly.

Cecily came in the kitchen door from the backyard. “Do you have some gardening gloves? Your vegetables are getting overgrown with weeds.“

“I’ve even got an extra pair,“ Jane said. “Mom, Mel didn’t sent those flowers.“

“How exciting. You must have a secret admirer.”

She and her mother spent an hour in the yard, weeding and talking. This time Jane had no great theological insights, just a nice visit with her mom. Jane told her about the visit with Desiree and also about her embarrassing intrusion into Grady’s life. She knew her mother wouldn’t have any cause to speak to anyone about Grady and Missy, but swore her to secrecy in any case. “Oh, I forget. Your wine.“ Jane recounted her horrible visit to the liquor store.

“The dreadful man! How nice to see justice done once in a while. He didn’t get hurt, did he?“

“I don’t think so. He was still bellowing about how it was all somebody else’s fault when I left.“

“Jane—maybe he’s your secret admirer.“

“Oh, I hope not! No, he couldn’t be. A man who asks a woman if she’s ‘getting any’ wouldn’t have the grace and romance to send flowers. He’d be more likely to send a vibrator—or one of those cakes from an obscene bakery. No, I think it’s probably Grady. He knew I was as embarrassed as he was. They’re probably apology flowers. I put in a call to Missy to find out, but I got her machine.“

“I imagine you’re right. Jane, tell me about this story you keep going back to working on.”

Jane sat back and brushed dirt off her gloves. “I’m almost afraid to talk about it. Missy says it could be a book.“

“How wonderful.“ There wasn’t a scintilla of disbelief in her voice. Just genuine pleasure.

“No, it’s really not. I don’t know the first thing about writing a book, and I feel like a fraud even saying it.“

“Nobody knows if they can write a book until they try it. I think you should give it your best shot. If it doesn’t pan out, you’d have had a good time trying. Tell me about it. It’s a novel, right?“

“I can only tell you about the part that’s written. Missy says so.“

“Then tell me that.”

Cecily had some interesting ideas for plot twists, and she enthusiastically supported Jane’s idea of using part of her inheritance from her friend to buy a computer. “You’re in the Stone Age nowadays if you don’t have one. You could also do your household bookkeeping on it and get some games for the children. On second thought, that part’s probably counterproductive,“ Cecily said. When they finally went back into the house, Jane was bubbling with ideas and had, in addition, four little cucumbers that had actually grown on her side of the fence to make into a salad. “Jane, I’ll make dinner. You work on your book,“ Cecily said.

“I can’t do that. You’re a guest.“

“Yes, you can. I’m your mother and I’m telling you to go write. Give me the car keys. I’ve got a new recipe I want to try out on you.”

Jane spent the rest of the afternoon blissfully involved with Priscilla. She made one quick run to the library to get a book on Colonial costume and another on social customs, but didn’t let herself get sidetracked into reading them yet.

Nor did she consciously let herself think about Mrs. Pryce’s murder. But it kept running through her mind like a dark undercurrent. Missy, Grady, Bob Neufield, Desiree, Ruth, Naomi, and Maria Espinoza kept popping into her thoughts, and she kept shoving them aside.

And other thoughts kept crowding in at her, too. The extra book in Shelley’s car, the little birdcage, the beautiful flower arrangement. Were they, in some obscure way, threats? Somebody was giving her things. Of course, the book and birdcage could have been accidental. Things that just got left someplace and had nothing to do with her. But the flowers—what about the flowers? They weren’t accidental. Someone deliberately sent her flowers. They went in and ordered and paid for them.

“Jane! Dinner’s ready!“ Cecily called up the stairs. Jane glanced at her watch and was astonished to see that it was already six o’clock. Where had the time gone?

“Mom, that was great,“ Jane said, taking one last bite of cucumber. Cecily had fixed a chicken casserole dish with peas and water chestnuts that was layered with lasagna noodles and white sauce and cheese-crusty on the top.

“It’s the curry powder.“

“I didn’t taste curry.“ Jane started clearing the table.

“That’s the secret. There’s not a chicken dish in the world that can’t benefit from a breath of curry. Jane, I’ll do that. You’ve got to get to class.“

“Me? Aren’t you coming?“

“Not tonight. Katie called while you were in the basement throwing things in the dryer. She said there’s some problem with the chlorine tanks and they’re closing the pool tonight at seven. She wanted to know if we could go to a movie. I told her you needed to go to class, but that I’d like to go. You can take notes for me, can’t you?“

“I’d be glad to. Are you sure you don’t mind missing it?“

“I’d feel a lot worse about missing a chance to go out with my granddaughter. You better catch Shelley, though. I’ll need your car.”

Jane dialed Shelley and made the arrangements. On the way to class a few minutes later, Jane told about the flowers she’d received. “They aren’t from Mel. I don’t think they’re from Grady, but I never heard back from Missy. I’m sure they didn’t come from the slimeball—“

“What slimeball in particular?“

“Oh, didn’t I tell you about the liquor store? You’ll love this—”

The story took them all the way to the parking lot of the city hall. They were sitting in the car laughing when Missy pulled in. She came over to Shelley’s car. “Jane, sorry I couldn’t return your call. I did check with Grady. He said no, he didn’t send them, which isn’t surprising. Grady doesn’t ‘do’ flowers. I send myself a poinsettia every Christmas in his name, and also a nice corsage of gardenias for my birthday. He always pays the bill, but never thinks of taking on the whole job himself. Where’s your mother, Jane?”

Jane explained.

“There are Ruth and Naomi. Grady’s picking up Bob because his car wouldn’t start. They ought to be along in a minute. I’m going in and get my notes in order.“

“We’ll come in in a sec,“ Jane said. When Missy had left, Jane turned to Shelley. “If Grady didn’t send me the flowers, who did? And, Shelley, I haven’t even told you about the birdcage yet.“

“Birdcage? Jane, is Mel picking you up?“

“I don’t think so. He called this afternoon, but he didn’t say anything.”

Shelley tapped her nails on the steering wheel thoughtfully. “You haven’t filled me in on your date yet, either. Jane, we need a serious talk. This has gone on long enough! We’ve got to get everything sorted out and someone arrested.”

18

Jane hadn’t really expected Mel to be waiting for her to get out of class again, but that hadn’t kept her from hoping—and from being disappointed when he wasn’t there. She and Shelley went back to Jane’s house and found that Cecily and Katie weren’t home from the movies yet. “All right,“ Shelley said, all business, “show me this birdcage.”

Jane had to think a minute before she remembered that she’d set it inside the garage door. She brought it in and set it on the kitchen table. Both women sat down and stared at it for a moment. “It’s not a real birdcage,“ Shelley said. “I’ve seen this before.“

“Have you?“ Jane looked at it, and her eyes widened in recognition. “Yes, so have I, come to think of it. It had candies in it when I first saw it. That’s what I first thought of when I found it. But where—“

“Put it at the back of your mind. It’s easier to remember things that way. So, where did you find it?“