Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 01 - Murder of the Month (3 page)

“
Even when—”

“
Exactly! Even when it becomes clear that this group is absolutely impossible. I have no idea why. Ask the lunatics. Point three: Don’t let anyone in without making him swear in blood to read mysteries from a variety of categories—”

“
But aren’t mysteries just … mysteries? With bodies and clues and such?”

I ticked the categories off on my fingers. “Police procedural, hard-boiled detective, suspense, cozy—”

“
Cozy?”

“
A big category,” I said. “A peaceful little murder at the vicarage or some such nonsense that gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling when you read it. Anyway, wouldn’t you think that rational people could come up with at least one mutually agreeable choice in a couple of months? Well, forget it. There are no rational people in this book club—present company excepted, of course.”

“
Of course.”

“
Everybody else is passionate about one category and detests all the others. Aren’t you going to ask about ‘hard-boiled,’ too?”

“
I’m still assimilating ‘cozy.’ Well, Jane, I appreciate your problem, but surely, eventually—”

“
Alix and Bianca are still scuffling over Alix’s cigarettes.” I sniffed and grimaced. “And as you can plainly tell, even from here, Bianca has now mounted a rather intense and … pungent counter-offensive.”

“
You might even say Bianca was ‘incensed,’” Laurence offered with a smile.

“
I get it … ‘incensed.’ Very funny.” I came back down the stairs and ostentatiously lifted the portable fan off the counter. “Well, Laurence, since you find this situation so humorous, maybe you’d care to join us.” I mimicked his tone of voice, “Tonight’s meeting will be fine. You’ll see.”

At his horrified look, I relented. Besides, I didn’t want any extra witnesses to whatever Bianca was going to say. “Oh, all right. Maybe not tonight, but one of these evenings. You owe me.”

“
I know, Jane.” His faded blue eyes grew sad. “And don’t think I’m not appreciative of your efforts to help me out with … everything.”

Oops. “Everything” was code for Tyler, and Tyler’s troubled mother, who was Laurence’s only child. I didn’t want Laurence to retreat once more into the misery that had so dominated his thoughts when Tyler first arrived, and I could have kicked myself for letting the conversation stray to that painful situation. I switched into theatrical mode, left over from my career in college melodramas. Coupling an evil expression with a maniacal cackle, I said, “I know, I know … and I’m contemplating many devious ways to get even. Will it be the rack? The iron maiden? Hah! Only time will tell.” I leaned across the counter to pat his wrinkled cheek and was relieved to see the beginnings of a smile. “I’ll let you worry while I take care of … that.” I pointed dramatically up the stairs. “Should I take a whip and chair?”

“
Not necessary. You need go armed with only your charming personality, my dear. That should conquer even the most beastly members of your … er, delightful group, though the fan might prove to be of some immediate assistance as well.”

The front door swung open to admit what at first appeared to be a freestanding scarf collection topped by a floppy black hat. The colorful scarves swirled into the bookstore and from their midst came a cheery voice. “Hello, hello, Jane. Why, Laurence, there you are. I didn’t see you.”

I avoided meeting Laurence’s eye. How Minnie could see anything from under her omnipresent hat was something of a mystery, and what the hat didn’t cover, one of the scarves would surely obscure.

“
Am I late? I hope I’m not late, but I was filling the church box that’s going to … let’s see, I think it’s Sri Lanka. So many places need help … I already collected the books you were donating, didn’t I? Yes, I thought so. Anyway, I looked up and it was already after seven, so I just scooted right over. Don’t know what Fred’s going to do for dinner tonight, but I’m sure he can manage. There’s plenty in the fridge. Of course, everyone at church was just in shock about poor Vanessa. Well, ‘in the midst of life we are in death,’ as they say. You just never know, do you? How long you have, I mean. Dreadful, dreadful.” She contemplated the idea for a moment, head bowed, before switching gears. “Now, what have I missed? Has the meeting already started?”

“
Not yet, Minnie. Go on up. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“
Wonderful. I’ll just …” Minnie swept by us both, then turned in a flurry of bright material. “Laurence, I can’t thank you enough for setting up this club.”

“
Jane deserves all the credit,” Laurence said.

“
Well, you both deserve some, don’t you? After all, Laurence, you let us use the store for meetings, and it’s just the most darling place. All these dark little alcoves and spooky corridors—what better place to discuss murder? It really puts me in the mood! For our next book, Jane, what do you say to
Paint Her Dead?
The mutilation of that artist in Rhode Island? You know the one I mean … where the killer painted the stripes? Now that’s a book any group would find interesting.” She clapped her hands, causing multiple bracelets on each wrist to dance and clatter. “I don’t know when I’ve had such fun! You really should join us sometime, Laurence. Well, better get along. Oh, dear,” she said, halting at the bottom step with her nose twitching. ”Alix is still determined to smoke? And what is—”

“
Incense,” Lawrence and I intoned glumly in unison.

“
Goodness. That would appeal to Bianca, I suppose. If you ask me, the incense smells worse than the cigarettes, but that’s just my opinion. Well, ‘judge not, that ye be not judged.’ That’s what I always say. Good thing you have a fan.” She shrugged and flowed up the stairs, her scarves trailing majestically.

“
She doesn’t know when she’s had such fun, eh?” I asked with wonder, once Minnie was out of earshot. “Has she been at the same meetings I have?”

“
Just as I suspected. You’re all having a lot more fun than you’ve been willing to admit, creeping around in these dim hallways thinking about murder.”

“
You don’t want to encourage me along those lines, Laurence—”

“
And you wanted to install brighter lights upstairs. Shame on you, Jane.”

“
How could I have thought people might actually want to see where they were walking? Much more important for customers to be in the proper mood as they delve into all those—what’d Minnie call them?—‘dark little alcoves.’ What’s a broken leg or two in our jolly quest for fun?” I shook my head. “Alix’s cigarette smoke must have pickled my brain. And speaking of cigarettes—”

“
Don’t start,” Laurence warned. “I’ve cut down so far already that it hardly counts—”

“
To what? A pack a day? When are you going to quit?”

“
I don’t suppose ‘when hell freezes over’ would satisfy you?” Laurence asked grandly. “Your nagging has already brought me to the edge of a nervous breakdown. Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s not your nerves so much as your circulatory system that worries me,” I said, attempting to keep my tone stern. As always, my fondness for the cantankerous old man warred with exasperation at his inability to break free of cigarettes. In the few months I had worked here, I had often listened to his tortured cough and watched him struggle for breath. My initial reluctance to intrude into his personal affairs had given way to alarm as his condition had deteriorated.

“
Jane, if you don’t get upstairs right away, Minnie will have
Paint Her Dead
scheduled for your next meeting.”

“
Over my dead body.”

“
Watch your word choice. Goodhearted Minnie sounds a bit bloodthirsty to me, though I do wonder … with her love of scarves, whether she might favor mysteries about belly dancing. Yes, that’s it—and Bianca’s incense would fit right in.”

“
Belly dancing! A pillar of the church like Minnie? No way. Besides, if there’s a belly dancing mystery series—and there very well might be because there certainly is every other kind—somehow I’ve missed it. Minnie’s all-time favorite book is
In Cold Blood
.”

“
What’s a mystery without a little evil, and a bloody limb or two on the staircase?”

“
No bloody limbs for me, thank you, on the staircase or anywhere else. Light on reality and heavy on whimsy, that’s the mystery for me, with just a touch of blood added for color.”

“
You must have had a tough time with
Macbeth
.”

“
That’s different. Shakespeare can strew bodies all over the stage because he gives his characters something poetic to say while they hack each other to bits. But, alas, today’s murderers aren’t as poetic as they used to be. I want my victims dispatched offstage, or between chapters five and six. No cataloguing the stab wounds centimeter by centimeter. Do you suppose Minnie has nightmares? She must.”

A sudden crash from above made us both jump. “Laurence, did you let Bianca bring that dog in here again? Don’t play the innocent with me. Of course you did!” My attempt to stomp up the stairs was somewhat muffled by the density of the carpet. “Oh, what’s the difference? Having a one-eyed dog at the meetings makes as much sense as anything else about this club.”

The scene that greeted me when I groped my way down the dim hallway to the converted back bedroom upstairs did nothing to restore my good humor. Even with the inadequate lighting, I could see the disarray in the book-lined lounge. Normally the deep leather armchairs and couch surrounded a scarred wooden table, but several of the chairs had been shoved away from the table and the contents of a broken pottery bowl littered the Oriental carpet beneath. Wendell, a large black dog of indeterminate breed, was industriously cleaning up the remains of whatever had been in the bowl, while the occupants of the room watched him with varying degrees of interest.

Alix Boudreau lounged against the wall by the open window, looking like a graceful beige column in her sheath as she watched the mini-drama before her. Her languid bearing and faint smile suggested that she had little to do with whatever was going on, and indeed, that her only current interest lay in extracting the most nicotine possible from every puff of her extra-long cigarette.

Tyler slumped as always in the deepest corner of the couch, doing his teenage best to let us know that he was there under duress, and he would sooner eat nails than associate with the rest of us. He pretended to study the cover of a paperback book he was holding, but his feigned lack of interest in the situation was belied by the furtive glimpses he kept shooting from under the unkempt thatch of blond hair that covered his forehead.

Minnie and her scarves fluttered around the table as she attempted to clean up the mess. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize … my goodness, he really is fast.”

Bianca, casually beautiful in a formfitting purple tank top and the briefest of cutoff jeans, patted the dog’s stiff fur. “It’s all right … good dog … you didn’t know,” as though he were cowering in a corner, filled with remorse after having committed some unpardonable sin. Instead, he was licking the last crumbs from the rug, giving every evidence of being a dog with a clear conscience.

“
Bianca, what on earth …?” I began.

“
Don’t blame Wendell,” Bianca said. “It wasn’t his fault. I brought these frosted bran bars for the meeting and when Minnie reached for one, Wendell thought she was offering it to him. With only one eye, he probably can’t tell distances too well. Poor puppy.”

He doesn’t seem to be having all that much trouble, I thought, watching as the one-eyed dog snuffled under the chairs in search of more treats. Frosted bran bars? No one looked too upset at being denied the contents of the bowl, but then Bianca’s unceasing attempts to convince us of the virtues of vegetarianism had met with a steady stream of rebuffs all summer.

A curtain of white-blond hair that any Hollywood starlet would envy framed her young face. Even had I not been her mother, I knew that the sweetness of her smile as she expressed regrets for Wendell’s behavior would warm any but the coldest heart. I glanced at Alix. Sure enough, her expression hadn’t changed.

“
Okay, okay.” I called a halt to Bianca’s stream of apologies. “No harm done—unless someone besides Wendell was really hungry, that is.”

Alix laughed, choking on her cigarette smoke until she finally regained enough control to gasp, “Not likely.”

“
How could you tell, Alix? You know that those disgusting cigarettes have killed any taste buds you ever had,” Bianca retorted from the other side of the table.
Alix wiped her eyes. “Thank God my taste buds departed before your recipes went to work on them. But don’t give up. Your incense will kill off my sense of smell, too. In fact, that’s probably what set your dog to overturning the furniture just now. He’s being driven nuts by that stuff … but then, who isn’t?”

“
But I read this neat article—” Bianca began.

“
Ah, a neat article,” Alix retorted. “Well, then—”

“
Oh, no,” Minnie broke in passionately. “Please don’t argue. Remember, ‘grievous words stir up anger.’ I can’t stand unpleasantness, not tonight. After Vanessa’s death … so distressing … I’m sure we were all looking forward to a quiet literary discussion of … something … just as soon as we decide what to read.” She spread her arms apologetically. “Of course, I’ve already recommended
Paint Her Dead
, so I didn’t actually get around to thinking much about anything else we might consider. Besides, you have no idea … absolutely none … how much coordination is involved in getting food together after a funeral service—which will be Sunday afternoon, by the way—especially in the summer when people are melting and can only think of salads. Mark my words, if you’re not careful, you can end up with thirty molded salads, and then where are you?”