Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8) (2 page)

“What can I get you ladies?” Steve, the shop’s owner, asked from behind the counter.

“I’ll have a scoop of everything in a trough with a bucket of hot fudge,” Riley said.

Lacy envied her the ability to get away with eating whatever she wanted. No one who wasn’t pregnant could do that and still be considered normal.

“The same for you?” Steve asked Lacy.

“No.” The smell of fresh waffle cones hit her anew and she started to salivate. “I’m not having anything. Thanks.” She cast a longing eye toward the waffle cones encased in their clear plastic container. There were five of them. One was a little darker than the others. How would that affect the taste?

“I sent Tosh away,” Riley said, pulling Lacy’s attention away from the cones.

“Why?”

“Because he and Mom are driving me nuts. They hover and give warring advice. One says to sit down and put my feet up while the other says to walk it off. There’s too much tension. Mom won’t go, so Tosh had to.”

“What did you do with him?” Lacy asked.

“I sent him to his sister’s.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’s going to miss the birth?”

“What birth? This baby is never coming out. It’s going to go to college in there,” Riley said. “Besides, that’s why God made private jets. As soon as I go into labor, if such a thing ever happens, I’ll call him and he’ll hop on the plane.”

“Were his feelings hurt?” Lacy asked.

“Are you kidding me? He gets to get away from mom and me. He practically left the house without his suitcase.”

“So you’re not fighting,” Lacy said.

“No. We’ve been getting along surprisingly well, considering how much I want to stab everything and everyone,” Riley said. Her ice cream arrived and she paused to taste.

“Do you want some?” Riley asked. “I’m starving, but then I eat a few bites and feel full because the baby has pushed my stomach up to my throat.”

“No, I’m good,” Lacy said. Ice cream was tempting, but on a good day she could bypass it.

Steve returned and pulled a waffle cone from behind his back. He presented it to Lacy with a flourish, like a magician revealing a bouquet of silk flowers from his wand. “On the house,” he said.

“Thank you,” Lacy said. She took the cone and stared at it. She couldn’t be rude and not eat it. She would take it home for later. But first she would take one bite, to show Steve how much she appreciated it.

“A waffle cone with no ice cream? Gross,” Riley said.

“Says the woman who just mixed mint chocolate chip with banana,” Lacy said. “Did Grandma tell you that Grandpa went out of town?”

“Did I scare him away, too?” Riley asked.

“No, his cousin is having bypass surgery in a few days and he wanted to be there,” Lacy said. “Any word from Dad?”

“He calls every few days,” Riley said.

“Does he call you or does he call Mom?”

“Me,” Riley said, frowning. “I never thought of it before, but I don’t think he and Mom have talked since he went back to Florida.”

“Something’s not right there,” Lacy said.

“I can’t think about it now,” Riley said.

Lacy let it go for the moment. But soon something was going to have to be done about the enmity between her parents.

“Speaking of Mom, her car is acting funny. You need to take her to get it fixed. I would do it, but I can’t fit behind the wheel anymore,” Riley said.

“Okay, but before tonight. Jason and I are doing dodgeball.”

Riley snorted and choked on a spoonful of ice cream. “Hiring a hit man would be easier and less painful for the rest of us to watch.”

“He promised that his athletic prowess will outweigh my ineptitude,” Lacy said.

“Are you sure he understands the level of your ineptitude? Did you tell him about the time you fell down the stairs in the middle of doing timed basketball speed drills? I still can’t figure that one out,” Riley said.

“He knows about that one. We were in the same class that year.”

“Maybe instead of balls they should throw waffle cones. You could probably eat those in the air as they fly toward your face,” Riley said.

Lacy looked down. Somehow while she talked, she had eaten the entire waffle cone. “How did that happen? I didn’t even get to savor it.”

“This is probably a good time to tell you that Mom is going to be here any minute,” Riley said.

“Why?” Lacy asked, something akin to panic flaring in her chest. She had an anxietal response to her mother, something that had been conditioned from earliest childhood. When her mother was around, criticism was sure to follow.

“She dropped me here on the way to her beauty appointment.”

Lacy stood. “I have to go.”

“You can’t. You’re taking her to the car repair place, remember? I know you drove Grandma’s car today. There’s no getting out of it.”

Riley was right. Slowly, she sank back into the chair, just as her mother walked in the door and waved.

“Yoo-hoo, girls,” she called as she approached. She pulled up a chair from a neighboring table and glanced disparagingly at the melting muddle of ice cream Riley had left.

“Really, Lacy, that doesn’t even look appetizing.”

“It’s Riley’s,” Lacy said.

“Why did you let Riley eat that? She’s going to get heartburn.”

“You’re right,” Riley said. “I just did.” She pressed a hand to her chest and stood. “I have to go, Mom.”

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to the car repair place with us,” Frannie said.

“I can’t. I have to, uh, go to the…” she scanned the interior of the restaurant, looking for a reprieve. Lacy took pity on her. Physically, she was miserable. No reason to add psychological torture to that.

“You were going to see Kimber, right?” Lacy suggested.

Riley seized on it like a squirrel on autumn’s last acorn. “Yes, Kimber.”

“What do you have to see Kimber for? Can’t it wait?” Frannie asked.

Riley looked blank. Pregnancy must be messing with her mind. She was usually a master of deception. It was Lacy who usually couldn’t lie to save her life. To save someone else, however, she turned into the Mata Hari. “To do the belly plaster,” she supplied. “Kimber is going to make a sculpture of Riley’s belly.”

Frannie wrinkled her nose. “A belly sculpture? Really, Riley, that’s so tacky.”

“Pregnancy is a beautiful thing, Mom. Who wouldn’t want to remember this magic?” She pointed to her belly, so huge it extended over the table and almost dragged in the ice cream. Lacy rescued the ice cream by moving it closer. Absently, she picked up the spoon and started to eat.

Her mother’s disapproving gaze turned to her.

“Are you sure you want to eat that? I noticed your pants have been looking a little tight.”

“Mom, why do you feel it’s okay to say that to me?” Lacy asked.

“Because I’m trying to help you. I don’t want to see you get fat,” Frannie said.

“There are worse things than being fat,” Lacy said.

“Yes, like being fat and alone.”

“Mom! I am not alone.”

“You might be, if you get fat,” Frannie said. Riley slipped quietly away. Lacy didn’t begrudge her. She would hide too, if she could.

“Mom, my weight is none of your concern. I’m an adult now.”

“An adult who has mint chocolate chip dribbling down her chin,” Frannie said.

Lacy picked up a paper napkin and dabbed at her chin. The effort was ineffectual when the napkin tore and stuck to the ice cream. Now she looked like someone who had a bizarre shaving mishap and oozed green goo. “The point is that you can’t go around commenting on someone’s weight, even if it’s your daughter.”

Frannie sniffed, wounded. “I was only trying to help.” She descended into the pouty silence that always made Lacy feel guilty. She wouldn’t apologize, though. Not this time. She hadn’t said anything that she shouldn’t have. If anything, her mother should apologize to her. That would happen right after Lacy won the World Series.

Lacy stood. “Let’s get your car to the shop. I’ll meet you there.” She fled before her mother could find some excuse to prolong the moment. Once outside, she practically sprinted to her grandmother’s car. Her mother had parked in the next space; she would be there any second. Lacy tried the handle of her grandmother’s car. It was locked. She fumbled with the keys and dropped them.

In her mind, the theme from
Jaws
began to play. Her mother was coming. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

“Yoo-hoo, Lacy, wait for me. I’ll follow you.” Her mother called from the steps of the Stakely building with a wave.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Lacy’s hands started to shake.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
She fumbled with the keys and dropped them again. Her mother was getting closer, her heels echoing loudly on the sidewalk. Badumbadumbadumbadum.

At last the car door swung open. Lacy jammed the key into the ignition and peeled out, sputtering gravel behind her as she threw the car into gear and sped off.

Her heart began to slow, and that was when she realized that things with her mother were getting worse. Maybe she should talk to someone about that, but whom? Who could help undo years of animosity and frustration? She wasn’t keen on therapy. So many people had it much worse than she. Pouring out her measly mother problem to a stranger felt too much like whining. Maybe she should take Jason’s suggestion and go one on one with her mom at a paintball range. He had said it to make her laugh, and it had. But the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. Though she had never thought of herself as a violent person, the vision of meeting her mother
mano a mano
across a field with a loaded paint gun wouldn’t go away.

This is for calling me fat, Mom. Bam, splat!

A knock sounded on her window, startling her. She rolled down the window.

“What are you smiling about?” her mother asked.

“Nothing,” Lacy said. “We’d better get in there before he closes up shop.”

“I’m the one standing on the sidewalk,” Frannie said. “Honestly, Lacy, it’s like you’re in your own little world sometimes.”

“Mom, do you know how to shoot a gun? Like a paintball gun?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Never mind. Let’s get this over with,” Lacy said, although she had no idea why she was in such a hurry. After this unpleasant task, another awaited her. Dodgeball. How had she let Jason talk her into that? All she remembered were his lips on her neck. After that everything became sort of hazy, but then it always did. He had discovered her Achilles’ heel, curse him and his beautiful lips.

She put her hand on the door of the shop and, with difficulty, pushed aside thoughts of Jason’s lips.

Chapter 2

The garage smelled like a mixture of stale coffee, hot engine oil, and cigarettes. It smelled the same as every car shop Lacy had ever entered. Just once she would like to drop off a car and be surprised by the scent of gardenias.

“Be with you ladies in a minute,” a disembodied male voice called. They could see the lower half of him sticking out beneath a blue Buick.

“No problem. We’ll stand here letting the oil and stench seep into our clothes,” Frannie whispered.

“Mom,” Lacy hissed.

“Am I supposed to be happy with the delay? We have an appointment,” Frannie said.

“He said he’ll be over in a minute,” Lacy said.

“Why are you taking the mechanic’s side?” Frannie asked. “If you have customers, you should come and greet them like a proper businessman.”

She was crankier than usual. Her demanding nature and bad moods didn’t often extend to strangers. Lacy wasn’t sure if the mechanic had heard, but she felt embarrassed nonetheless. What was her mother’s problem lately? She was more prickly than a backwards hedgehog.

The mechanic came forward wiping his hands on a towel. “Sorry about that. I was…Frannie? Is that you?” He dropped the towel and reached for Lacy’s mother who took a step backwards and held up a hand to ward him off. Undeterred, he picked her up in a bear hug, her hand pressed aimlessly against his chest. “It’s Bob Hoskins from high school. Don’t you remember me? I remember you, oh, boy, do I remember you.” He set her down and took a step back, grinning.

Frannie was at a loss. “I…I don’t…No, I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

“Sure you do.” His grin aimed at Lacy and widened. “And this must be your daughter. She’s your spitting image. How old are you, darlin’?”

“Twenty seven.”

“Twenty seven, huh? We’ve been out of school nearly twenty nine years now. Hmm. You sure you don’t remember me, Frannie? I bet you do, if you think real hard.”

“I don’t,” Frannie snapped. She smoothed a hand over her hair and tried a different track. “I brought my car in for some repairs.”

“Well, let’s take a look.” They walked outside together. He put his hands on his hips and scanned the car. “Florida plates?”

“My husband and I live in Florida,” Frannie said.

“Husband? You marry that football player? Steele, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Frannie said tersely.

“Hmm, figures. Football types always got the cheerleaders. Me, I was too busy smoking under the bleachers for sports.” He gave Lacy a conspiratorial wink. “I bet you were a cheerleader, too.”

Before she could stop herself, Lacy snorted a laugh. Frannie scowled. Lacy cleared her throat and shook her head. “I was in the band. My little sister was a cheerleader, though.”

“Oh? How many little Steeles are there?” Bob asked.

“Just Riley and me,” Lacy said.

Bob nodded. “I don’t have children myself. It’s a shame. Children bring something special into a marriage. My first wife couldn’t have kids. Some women are blessed with fertility and some aren’t.”

“It’s clunky,” Frannie interjected.

For a second, Lacy thought she was referring to her fertility, but she quickly caught up. “The car clunks whenever I go over twenty miles per hour,” she added.

“Clunky, huh?” He chuckled as he went forward to pop the hood. “You women and your words. I should write a book when I retire of all the things women tell me about their cars. I had a woman tell me once that her car was making a THUMP-REE-REE-REE sound. She said it just like that, a high-pitched THUMP-REE-REE-REE. Turns out a stray cat had crawled up in the engine trying to get warm. Oh, don’t look like that. It lived. It was some kind of miracle. The sound was it screaming to get out. I kept it as a pet until it died. It was a real good mouser. I heard one time that cats that have laid back ears are good mousers. You ever hear that?”