Murder Is a Piece of Cake (16 page)

Chapter 28

Tuesday, October 30

“Mom, Ted’s car is parked outside our house,” Josie said. “Something’s wrong. Amelia
had to call him for help.”

She felt a knot of panic twist her stomach. “I should have insisted that detective
let me call my daughter,” Josie said. “Instead, we’ve left her alone for almost five
hours. That’s the longest she’s been on her own. She’s only eleven. What if she set
a pot holder on fire when she fixed herself dinner? Or cut herself with a butcher
knife? What if someone tried to break in?”

“Josie,” Jane said. “Amelia knows her way around a kitchen better than you do. You
haven’t had dinner and you’re on edge.”

Awful possibilities played in Josie’s mind, the trailer for her own personal horror
movie. “But—,” she said.

“Nothing is wrong, Josie, or Mrs. Mueller would be screaming on the lawn. Remember
Amelia’s science experiment? That big scare turned out to be nothing, too.”

“You’re right,” Josie said as she backed her car behind Ted’s. “If there was trouble,
we’d see cop cars, fire trucks, ambulances and Mrs. M doing the happy dance.”

Josie glanced at her mother as she straightened out the Honda. “You look tired, Mom,”
she said. She hurried around the car to help Jane.

Her mother shooed her away. “I can still get out of a car,” she said. “I’m not some
feeble old woman.” Indignation gave Jane a little more color. “Go check on Amelia
and Ted.”

Josie ran up the walkway. Ted met her halfway, wrapping her in his muscular arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, inhaling his scent of coffee and wood smoke. She kissed him.
The nightmare vision of Rita’s corpse faded, along with her fears for Amelia. “Now
that you’re here, absolutely nothing. How did you know I needed you?”

“Amelia said you were working late,” he said.

Josie tensed again. “She called you. Something is wrong.”

“I called her,” Ted said, “after I went to see Mom in jail.”

He stopped, then said, “Never thought I’d say that sentence. Mom has a question for
you. You didn’t answer your cell phone, so I called your home. Amelia said you and
Jane were delayed. I figured you were busy with wedding stuff and you’d be hungry
when you got home. Anyway, I wanted to ask you the question in person. Amelia and
I made chicken with pine nuts.”

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Josie said. This time her lips lingered on his. “How
did you make dinner? I have chicken in the freezer, but no pine nuts.”

“Or parsley, lemon juice, or snow peas,” he said. “I picked up the ingredients on
my way over. Amelia is making the salad now. Your timing is perfect.”

“So is yours,” Josie said, leaning against him.

“Seriously, Josie, what’s wrong? I can see it in your face. You weren’t running wedding
errands. Something bad happened.”

“I found another dead woman,” Josie said. “I thought this poor saleswoman had killed
Molly. I went to check on her and found her body. She’d been murdered, Ted.”

“Who was she?”

“You didn’t know her,” Josie said. “Rita. A saleswoman at Denise’s Dreams. She was
Molly’s best friend. She even looked like her. I was sure she’d killed Molly.”

“You were going to confront a killer alone?” Ted asked.

“No, I had Mom with me,” Josie said.

They could hear Jane’s slow tread on the sidewalk, as if she were carrying a burden.

“Your mom,” Ted said. “Good choice. The Maplewood cops call her for backup all the
time.”

“Please,” Josie said. “No sarcasm. Jane didn’t need muscles to call 911. I saw Rita’s
body, Ted. Her head was crushed in. It was horrible.”

“Tell me,” he said, his voice soft with sympathy. Josie wanted to cry on his shoulder.
But her weary mother was approaching and dinner was waiting.

“After dinner,” she said. “What did your mother want?”

“We’ll save that for dessert,” he said.

Uh-oh, Josie thought. More bad news.

“Amelia made chocolate mint cookies,” Ted said. “Wait till you taste them.”

“You’ve already tried them?” She smiled at him.

“She asked my culinary advice.” Ted winked, then reached for Jane. “There’s my other
girl!” He hugged her.

“It’s so good to see you, Ted. I don’t want to be rude, but if I don’t walk my dog,
he’ll have an accident,” Jane said.

“Already walked him, Jane.”

“Mom,” Jane corrected. “You can call me Mom. If you want to. I don’t want to be disrespectful
to your real mother.”

“Lenore won’t mind. She won’t let me call her Mom in public,” Ted said. “She says
I make her look old. I’d be happy to call you Mom.”

Jane stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m pleased and proud to have such a
thoughtful son.”

They went up the walk arm in arm to Josie’s living room. Stuart Little greeted them,
tail wagging. After his ears were scratched, he pattered into the kitchen and slurped
water in his bowl. Harry joined him, crunching his dry food.

Josie’s table was set for four with a centerpiece of six peach roses.

“Flowers?” Josie said. “For me?”

“Just grocery store roses,” Ted said. “Why are you crying?”

“Because they’re so beautiful.”

Amelia looked embarrassed. “Mom,” she said, “don’t be lame. Are we going to eat? I’m
starving.”

Ted poured the wine, and then they ate their salads. “Delicious,” Josie said. “What’s
in this dressing, Amelia?”

“It’s my homemade French,” Amelia said, failing to hide her pride. “I make it with
garlic, paprika, red wine vinegar, oregano and a little sugar.”

“I’ve had lots of French dressing,” Jane said, “but not like this. What’s your secret?”

“I use vegetable oil instead of olive oil,” Amelia said. “I read online that’s how
the French make real French dressing. Olive oil is too heavy.”

The chicken with pine nuts and snow peas was served over pasta and heaped with more
praise.

After dinner, they ate cookies until Josie caught her daughter trying to hide a yawn.

“It’s almost ten,” Josie told her. “It’s time for bed.”

“But I have to do the dishes,” Amelia said. “That’s my chore.”

“Your hated chore,” Josie said. “You did the cooking. You have the night off.”

“Awesome,” Amelia said. She slung her cat, Harry, up on her shoulder and said, “Night,
Grandma. Night, Ted. Thanks for showing me how to fix the chicken.”

Ted gave her a hug. “In less than a month, we can have a cooking lesson every night,”
he said.

“I’m proud of you, Amelia,” Josie said.

“Whatever,” Amelia said.

Tonight, Josie thought the ever-flexible word meant her daughter was pleased. But
Amelia flinched when her mother hugged her.

Josie heard scraping sounds and saw Jane putting plates in the dishwasher.

“Mom,” Josie said, “leave the dishes and take Stuart upstairs.”

“We’ll finish up,” Ted said. “Josie and I need to talk. Go on, Mom. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re a dog doctor,” Jane said, smiling at him.

“And you’re dog tired,” Ted said.

After Jane and the little shih tzu climbed the back stairs, Josie said, “What did
your mom want?”

There was a long pause. This is going to be bad, Josie thought. “Uh, Mom wants to
know if you rented chair covers for the reception,” Ted said.

“I don’t believe this,” Josie said. “Your mom is facing death by lethal injection
and she wants to know if I have chair covers? No, I don’t. We talked about this, Ted.
The hall wants eight dollars each for a chair cover—that’s more than sixteen hundred
dollars. We spent the money on food instead.”

Ted looked sheepish. “I couldn’t remember,” he said. “We talked about so much, it
sort of blended together. I’m not even sure what a chair cover is.”

“A waste of money,” Josie said. She slammed a plate into the dishwasher rack. “The
reception hall has perfectly comfortable chairs with blue padded seats. A chair cover
is white fabric that covers up the chair.”

Clink. Clink
. She slammed in more plates.

“Josie, don’t get mad at me,” he said. “I’m just the messenger. Chair covers are a
big deal for Mom.”

“Well, I have more important things to think about,” Josie said.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk
. She added the four china salad bowls and picked up the cookie sheet from the countertop.

“I know,” Ted said. He took the cookie sheet away from her and loaded it into the
dishwasher. “I know this is incredibly petty. But it’s how Lenore survives in jail.
She’s a strong woman, Josie. Thinking about our wedding is the distraction she needs
to keep sane. She wants to pay for the chair cover rental. Please?”

What about my sanity? Josie wanted to say. It’s supposed to be my day. I’m losing
control of my wedding.

“What harm will it do to let her buy them?” Ted asked.

Josie felt ashamed. If Lenore wanted chair covers, it would only make her wedding
look better.

“You can’t have naked chairs in Boca,” he said, and kissed her forehead. “The sight
of exposed legs is shocking.” He kissed her nose.

He got down on his knees and said, “Josie Marcus, will you say yes to decently covered
chairs?”

Josie laughed and pulled him toward her. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said. “Let her have
the chair covers for one night. I’m getting you forever.”

Ted backed her against the kitchen counter and unbuttoned the first button on her
shirt, then the second. She was working on his shirt when a saucer fell off and smashed
on the floor, breaking the mood.

“Not with Amelia here,” Josie said, and started buttoning up.

“But in a month she’ll always be with us,” Ted said, kissing her more insistently.

“We’ll be married then,” Josie said. “We can wait until she’s asleep or at school.”

“I think I’m going to be coming home for lunch a lot,” Ted said.

They heard Amelia giggling and Harry thumping around in her room. Josie reluctantly
pulled away.

“Tell me what happened today,” Ted said.

Now the romantic mood was deader than Rita. Josie told him her theory that Rita had
killed Molly, the way she’d solved the shoplifting problem, and the horror of seeing
Rita’s body.

“How did she die?” Ted asked.

“I don’t know,” Josie said. “But her skull was smashed like that saucer.” She shivered,
though the night wasn’t cold.

“You know the worst part?” Josie asked. “The part I feel so bad about?

“Rita was dead—and I was upset because I’d hit a dead end in the search for Molly’s
killer.”

Chapter 29

Wednesday, October 31

“Do you like caviar?” Alyce asked.

“Love it,” Josie said. She felt rich and relaxed in the soft leather seats of her
friend’s Escalade. The luxurious Cadillac SUV seemed the proper place to discuss caviar.

“Good,” Alyce said. “I have a terrific caviar recipe for your bridal shower.”

“Oh.”

Even caviar couldn’t make Josie look forward to her shower. “It’s really nice of you
to give me a shower, but do I have to have one?” she asked.

Josie felt trapped. Alyce was driving her to Brides by Beatrice for the final fitting
of her wedding dress. Her wedding heels were in a box on her lap and her bridal lingerie
was in a bag at her feet. She wanted to leap out at the next light and run through
the traffic to escape the shower.

Josie’s blond friend looked soft as whipped cream, but she could be tougher than a
two-dollar steak.

“Yes, you do,” Alyce said in the same voice she used on two-year-old Justin when she
meant business. “I’ve promised no stupid shower games. Just good food, good drinks,
good friends, and good presents.”

“But we don’t need pots, pans, and sheets. We already have them,” Josie said.

“I’ve seen your cookware, Josie. Goodwill would reject it. Ted brings over his own
pots when he cooks at your house.”

“All cooks have their favorites,” Josie said.

“Ted will get more favorites at this shower,” Alyce said. “We’ve made sure his requests
are on your wish list.”

“Okay,” Josie said. “I promise to coo over the Calphalon.”

“Fortunately, it will be in the boxes when you unwrap it, so you’ll know what you’re
getting,” Alyce said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t know a panini press from a truffle
slicer.”

Alyce’s voice went slightly sharp with irritation. “This shower isn’t about you, Josie
Marcus. It’s for your mother, who’s always wanted a happily married daughter. It’s
for Amelia, who wants a mom with wedding pictures like everyone else at school. And
it’s for your friends, who want to welcome you to a new stage of your life. We want
to celebrate with you, Josie. Are you going to deny us?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Josie said.

“Besides, fancy sheets feel good,” Alyce said.

“Ted has these cool pin-striped sheets,” Josie said. She thought of their last night
together and suppressed a sigh.

“You can have more than one set of good sheets,” Alyce said. “Won’t it be nice to
get rid of your scratchy old towels?”

“Fluffy towels will feel good.” Josie was willing to admit that much.

“Your new dinnerware is gorgeous,” Alyce said. “I love those square plates in a deep
cocoa with the golden brown highlights.”

“You make them sound like food,” Josie said.

“They’re a good showcase for Ted’s cooking. I envy you.”

“For a set of dishes?” Josie said.

“For marrying at thirty-one,” Alyce said. “I got married right after college when
my taste wasn’t fully developed. I picked boring young-girl china—white plates with
timid daisies.”

“Is that why you collect china?” Josie asked.

“That’s my excuse,” Alyce said. “Grown-up weddings are more fun. You know what you
want, and I’m not just talking about Ted. You’ve chosen sophisticated styles. Your
shower gifts will be perfect, just like your new life.”

“If I get a new life,” Josie said. “Yesterday, I thought I had Molly’s killer. Instead,
I found that poor woman’s body.”

“That’s the third time this morning you’ve mentioned Rita,” Alyce said.

“I keep seeing Rita’s foot sticking out from behind the bed. I thought it was a broken
statue. Then I saw her head, all crushed in. Rita was a thief, Alyce. She didn’t deserve
to die for stealing.”

“I saw the story on TV,” Alyce said. “The police think Rita surprised a burglar and
he hit her with a lamp.”

“I stepped right over that lamp,” Josie said. “I didn’t notice any blood.”

“You were distracted,” Alyce said.

“A botched burglary may be what the police are telling the press, but there’s more
to her death,” Josie said. “Remember Detective Gray, from Rock Road Village?”

“Smart, suspicious, steely-eyed?” Alyce asked. “He investigated Nate’s murder.”

“I don’t know how smart he is,” Josie said. “He arrested the wrong killer for Nate.
He’s the detective in charge of Rita’s murder. He all but said I signed Rita’s death
warrant when I told the shop owner that she’d been stealing expensive items and selling
them on eBay. He acted like I murdered Rita.”

“He’s wrong,” Alyce said. “He was wrong about Nate and he’s wrong this time, too.”

“I hope so,” Josie said, “because I keep seeing that poor silly woman on her bedroom
floor. I was so sure she’d killed Molly. It made sense.”

“Any other ideas?” Alyce asked.

“Two,” Josie said. “The stalker bride’s first victim, George Winstid, and his mother,
Phoebe.”

“You think they killed Molly together?” Alyce asked.

“Maybe. I think the mother did it. I found Molly, remember?”

“Two bodies in one week,” Alyce said. “That’s too many.”

“One is too many,” Josie said. “Ever. Molly’s car window was rolled down. That was
important, and the police overlooked it. That rolled-down window proves Lenore was
innocent.”

“I’m not following you,” Alyce said.

“The night Molly was shot was warm. She’d gone back to stalking Ted. Molly felt safe
sitting in the clinic’s brightly lit parking lot. She could hear—and see—Lenore’s
navy rental car and she knew Lenore had a gun. If she’d seen Lenore drive into the
lot, Molly would have rolled up her window and roared away. She wouldn’t stick around
so Lenore could walk over and shoot her in the head.”

“Makes sense,” Alyce said.

“But she might let her old love, George, get close,” Josie said. “Or Phoebe, her future
mother-in-law. Both hated Molly, but I think Phoebe wanted her dead.”

“Why?” Alyce asked.

“Because George found the woman he wants to marry when he moved to Montana,” Josie
said. “He’s engaged now—for real. Phoebe is a widow and I got the impression she’s
hard up for money. Thanks to Molly, George, his new wife and their future children
will be more than a thousand miles away—and Phoebe can’t afford to visit them often.
Molly deprived her of the joys of being a St. Louis grandma.”

“A good reason,” Alyce said. “But how do you prove it?”

“I have to find out where Phoebe was the night Molly was murdered, but I can’t figure
out how.”

“Don’t think about it,” Alyce said. “Give your brain a rest. We’re at the bridal shop.
Let’s concentrate on your final fitting.”

Bridal mannequins stared out of the windows of Brides by Beatrice as if waiting for
grooms to rescue them. Beatrice, a grandmotherly woman with her hair tied up in a
bun, met Josie at the door. She wore a dress with straight pins stuck in the lapels
and a yellow measuring tape around her neck.

“And we’re less than three weeks away, my dear,” she said with a hint of an Irish
lilt. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Josie said.

“Come into the fitting room and I’ll bring your dress and veil.”

Josie changed into her lingerie and white heels for the fitting. Alyce whistled. “A
strapless satin corset with garters? That’s hot-looking.”

“Hope Ted feels the same way,” Josie said.

“Any man with a pulse will,” Alyce said.

Beatrice carried Josie’s wedding gown in her arms and hung it on a hook. “Here,” she
said, handing Josie a tissue. “Take off your lipstick. I don’t want any stains on
this dress.”

Josie dutifully rubbed the color off her lips. Then Alyce and Beatrice helped her
step into the dress. Beatrice zipped it up the back and fastened the hook at the top
of the zipper.

“Now, let’s take a look at you,” she said, and stood back.

“The length is perfect with those heels,” Alyce said.

“But the fit is not quite right,” Beatrice said. “You’ve lost weight. We can fix that
with a few nips and tucks.” She tucked and pinned until she seemed satisfied.

“I’m glad we’re taking this dress in instead of letting it out,” she said. “That will
hide the pin holes. This silk drapes nicely. There. That’s perfect. Now let’s try
the veil. Are you wearing your hair up for your wedding?”

“I’m wearing it like this,” Josie said, “except I’ll have my hair done at the salon.”

“Your swing bob is stylish,” Beatrice said. “And you’re doing the right thing. Some
of my brides pile their hair like Marie Antoinette and spend their wedding day with
their hair twisted, pulled, and pinned tight. Gives them headaches, it does, and the
last thing you want is a headache on your wedding night. That’s no way to start a
marriage.”

Josie put on the shoulder-length veil of silk illusion trimmed with pearls and crystals.

“So elegant,” Beatrice said. “My name means ‘bringer of joy.’ That’s what all my brides
bring me. I hope you and Ted have a long, happy life together.”

Alyce blinked away tears. “It was just a white dress until you put on the veil,” she
said. “Now it’s a real wedding dress.”

If only, Josie thought, I have a real wedding day.