Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer (32 page)

“I know it was Penny’s.”

“How?” Thistlewait was skeptical.

I switched the cell phone to my other ear and pushed the Cherokee’s heater up to high.

“I recognized it. Her grandmother made it for her. It was her favorite color, blue. It’s handmade with squares in different shades of blue. And Victor is there. You’ve got to get out here. They were packing those boxes to move them somewhere. I don’t think they’ll be here for long and I can’t stay much longer.” I checked the dashboard clock. “In fact, I’ve got a spouse coffee to go to.”

“I’m on my way. Stay put. Don’t—
do not
—get out of your car again.”

“I’m getting another call.” I punched the button and heard screaming.

“Mrs. Avery. This is Kelly. Livvy fell and she’s bleeding.”

“I’ll be right there.”

A few hours later, I contemplated the spread of food. I usually dreaded the monthly spouse coffees because they seemed outdated, a leftover from a stilted fifties family show. The wives of the squadron gathered once a month to—well, I still wasn’t sure what the purpose was, something along the lines of a city junior league. I guess the spouses of each squadron were supposed to make worthy contributions to the base and the community through fund-raising and service projects. I’m sure it began, too, as a way to make connections and friendships.

I ran my hand through my hair self-consciously. I’d arrived home to find Livvy had busted her lip, lots of blood, but no serious injury. In fact, she’d been happily coloring by the time I arrived. There had only been time to run a brush through my hair and change into new jeans for the coffee.

“It is hard to decide, isn’t it?” a woman asked as she leaned around me to pick up a brownie off the buffet.

“Sorry.” I grabbed a plate and started moving down the line. I’d pretty much missed the business portion of the coffee because my thoughts were on different things, like whether or not Thistlewait had made it to the yellow house before the boxes disappeared. And had they found Penny’s journal?

I transferred a slice of dessert pizza, cookie dough topped with cream cheese and fruit, onto my plate next to an enormous chocolate chip cookie. I heard Jill Briman say the spouse fund-raiser, Muffin Monday, needed muffin donations and volunteers to collect money at the squadron bright and early at seven on Monday mornings. I didn’t look up. I have a bad habit of saying yes when people ask for my help, but I draw the line at causes that require me to show up at seven in the morning.

I caught a wisp of the conversation in the group around the craft table where they were making something with picture frames, paper doilies, and paint. I’d skipped on the craft. Get me around a glue gun and the results are scary. One woman paused, her scissors in midair, and leaned toward the center of the table. “Rory Tyler’s been arrested!”

I stepped toward the table and another woman said, “No! Rory? What happened?”

“Yes. I saw it on the news right before I left—”

I missed the rest of the conversation when I realized Jill was bearing down on us with one of her sign-up clipboards. I immediately began rehearsing my excuses: Livvy didn’t wake up until seven-thirty. Who would expect someone to wake up a sleeping child to make change for men who had college degrees? Jill would. She’d want that table manned, or womaned, to encourage sales.

I was trying to think of another excuse when Jill cut me away from the craft table. “I need to talk to you. Let’s go over here.” She steered me to a corner of her dining room that was unoccupied and tucked her clipboard away in the corner of her arm. “I need your advice.”

That blew me away. Competent, commanding, in-control Jill needed my advice?

“It’s Lieutenant Lamar. Georgia,” she continued. “She’s raising the issue about the posters in the break room again. I don’t know why she can’t leave it alone. It isn’t that big a deal.”

“Maybe because it
is
a big deal to her?”

Jill sighed. “Or because it gets her attention? I don’t understand why she’s making such a fuss. A few pictures don’t hurt anyone.”

“No, but I think, for Georgia, it’s more the principle of the thing. Is it right to have those pictures in the squadron? Would they be on the walls of a break room at a bank?”

Jill ignored my question and said, “She’s taking it way too personally. Did you know she thinks someone poisoned her because she wanted the posters down?” Jill’s eyebrows were wrinkled together and lowered over her sunburnt nose. She shook her head. “Can you believe that?”

“I think that poisoning had more to do with Penny than Georgia. It was an accident.”

Jill sighed. “Penny. Now, she was great. Completely different from Georgia. Penny volunteered for everything and she took initiative, too. One morning after Muffin Monday, I even found her in the Hole cleaning up, dusting and straightening up the shelves. I didn’t ask her to, but she was like that—helpful in a quiet way. Too bad we don’t have more spouses like Penny.”

I managed to keep my mouth closed.
I’m not trying to get the Best Spouse award
, I reminded myself.

“Well, back to Georgia. It’s getting to Daniel,” Jill said, referring to her husband. “She’s really putting pressure on him to do something and you know most of the guys in the squadron don’t want anything to change. I tried to talk to her the other day, but she wouldn’t listen. She even said
she’s
getting frustrated. She isn’t the only one who’s frustrated.” Jill’s tone was sarcastic. Then she switched the clipboard to the other arm and lowered her voice. “But I am worried. She said she’s going to do something drastic.” Now Jill’s tone was serious, all traces of irony gone. “We only have a few more months here and Daniel needs to finish out his stint as squadron commander on the right note. So, I want you to talk to her,” she wound up.

I nearly choked on the bite of dessert pizza. After I swallowed, I asked, “Why?”

“Because I think she’ll listen to you. Convince her to put her campaign on hold for a few months and then approach the new squadron commander.”

“Jill, I don’t think she’s going to listen to me.” I didn’t think my arguments would be very convincing, especially since I was pretty much in Georgia’s camp to begin with. Instead of tasting delicious, my next bite of dessert pizza tasted overpoweringly sweet and clogged in my throat. I managed to swallow the bite, but set my plate down. The thought of another bite made my stomach lurch.

“Just do your best.” Coming from Jill, that phrase wasn’t an encouragement, it was an order. Jill twisted the clipboard around facing me.

I knew she was about to make a pitch for me to volunteer, so I said, “I think I hear Livvy crying,” and escaped to the basement stairs where the kids were watching videos. If the other sounds echoing up the stairs were any indication, they were also flinging toys at the walls. I peeked around the door frame and saw Livvy engrossed in building a wall from plastic interlocking parts, unaware of the other kids playing a rambunctious game of football on the other side of the room. As I tiptoed back up the stairs, I heard the babysitter order the kids to use the foam football.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I slipped through the kitchen where Jill was passing the clipboard around for signatures and went to sit by Abby and Irene. If anyone would know what rumors were floating around, it would be Irene. She’d once described herself as a news junkie, but I think it went a little further than that; probably a better description would be a gossip junkie. Irene scooted her ample hips over to make room for me. She pushed her fluffy blond hair out of her eyes and said, “So, what do you know about Rory? Have you heard he’s been arrested?”

“Uh, yes,” I said and realized that Irene probably thought I was a gossip junkie, too. I smiled faintly and said, “Not much. Just that he’s been arrested. What do you know?” Perhaps I wasn’t that different from Irene. I shoved that thought away to contemplate later and concentrated on her words. I wondered about Victor. “Did they arrest anyone else?”

“No. I did hear they took anything with a blade. All his razors, scissors, knifes, anything like that,” Irene continued. “And they pulled up all his rugs.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked. “Was it on the news?”

“Of course not. I stopped by there on the way over here. I mean, he doesn’t have family here and we were his sponsor when he PCS’d here. I had to see if he needed anything.”

“So you saw them collecting evidence.”

“No.” Irene shifted and shrugged. “I heard someone say they’d bagged anything with a sharp edge and then the guy in charge, the detective, I guess, said to check all the carpets.” Irene’s forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t understand that part.”

So they’d found the note in the journal and they’d drawn the same conclusion Abby and I had. I realized Irene was studying my face intently, so I tried to rearrange my features into an expression of puzzlement. “How strange,” I said. I’m a terrible actress, but she must have been so focused on her connection to Rory that she glossed over my expression.

“I’d never have imagined he had the, well, the gumption to murder anyone. When he stayed with us while he was looking for a place to live, all he talked about was his nutrition supplements and weight lifting.”

I looked at my watch and said, “I’d better head home. Are you ready?” I asked Abby. We’d driven over together. I carried Livvy across the snowy yard and buckled her into her car seat. Then I plopped into the passenger seat of Abby’s sports car. I leaned my head back against the headrest. Livvy got heavier every day. My shoulders and arms felt like I was carrying around twenty-pound weights. I rotated my shoulders and tried to let the tension drain out of me.

“You look beat.” Abby buckled her seat belt and revved the engine.

“I am.” I was physically tired and there were too many bits of information swirling around in my mind. And it was a bath night. I heaved another sigh. How did single parents manage? One of the worst things about Mitch being gone was that the responsibility of everything descended on me: Livvy, Rex, the house, the bills, everything.

“Why don’t I come in and help you get Livvy ready for bed?”

Normally, I’d have shrugged off her offer, but as much as I didn’t like to admit it, I could use some help.

“It’s bath night,” I warned.

“Great! I can practice.”

After Abby pulled into my driveway, I had to nearly get on my knees to reach across the folded-down seat and unbuckle Livvy’s car seat. “You know this isn’t exactly a mom-type car.”

“I know, but I’m thinking I’ll buck the minivan, SUV trend.”

“I give you a year.” I wrestled the car seat away from the seat belt strap. “You’ll probably have the biggest bus of any mom in the squadron.”

Abby took the car seat from me. “We’ll see.” Once inside, she turned to Livvy. “You’ll help me give you a bath, won’t you? Tell me where all your things are and what to do?”

Livvy studied her, then nodded. They went down the hall hand in hand. I petted Rex, let him out, and then collapsed on the couch. I stayed that way as the sounds of splashing and giggles receded.

The phone woke me. After answering it, I met Abby in the hall. “It’s Jeff.” I handed her the phone.

“Thanks. Livvy’s tucked in bed, waiting for you.”

We performed our bedtime ritual, which was becoming more elaborate as Livvy got older. Now we worked our way through a story, song, prayer, hugs, and kisses.

I turned on the night-light in the bathroom and met Abby in the kitchen.

“Thanks. You have no idea how much better I feel. That was a great break.” I went to the cabinet and pulled out glasses.

“Sure. It was good for me. I was getting cold feet about the baby. I mean, I don’t know anything! Nothing. Not even how to change a diaper.”

I dropped ice in the glasses and popped the tops on two Diet Cokes. “Don’t worry. You pick it up pretty quick. It’s like Mitch being gone. I have to cope, so I do.” I handed one glass to Abby and sat down at the table across from her with the other.

“Before I forget, Jeff had a phone call from Mitch. You better get an answering machine soon. Mitch tried to call here during the coffee, but when you didn’t answer, he called Jeff. Mitch’s got a time slot scheduled for a video conference. Tomorrow night at ten-thirty. He cleared it with the Orderly Room, and Tommy Longfellow will be there night flying. Mitch called Tommy and he’s going to leave the door by the side parking lot unlocked for you.”

“That should work. Last time I tried to talk to him, there were about thirty people listening to us. The squadron should be pretty dead that late.”

“I’ll come over and stay with Livvy.” She gave me a warning look. She must use it a lot with her third graders, because my protest, “You don’t have to do that,” never popped out of my mouth.

“I don’t mind helping you out. You’ve got to learn to let someone give you a hand once in a while. You don’t have to do it all by yourself. I’ll come over tomorrow night about nine. So…” With that topic closed she raised an eyebrow. “You knew about Rory?”

I recounted everything from finding the letter to my spying on Rory and Victor.

“Wow. No wonder you were exhausted tonight.”

I took another sip of my Diet Coke. My stomach grumbled and I felt that uneasy flutter, like I was about to come down with the flu. I found some crackers in the pantry and spread them on a plate with some cheese. “The throw would fit if Rory attacked her, but what about the poison? Thistlewait said it would have killed her, probably in another day or two. Did Rory poison her, get impatient, and then use a more direct method to make sure she died?”

“I don’t know.” Abby made little cheese and cracker sandwiches as she spoke. “Rory just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to use poison. I wonder what happened to Victor.”

“He must have left Rory’s before Thistlewait got there.” I couldn’t imagine that Thistlewait would let Victor avoid questioning.

Abby chewed slowly, swallowed, and said, “Do you think Victor poisoned Penny and later Rory slit her wrists? Then Rory had to take out Clarissa because she wanted a percentage of the profits?”