Murder Is a Piece of Cake (7 page)

Chapter 10

Wednesday, October 24

Back at home, Josie slipped off her red heels, wiggled her newly freed toes, and poured
herself a cup of coffee. Then she sat down in her office, a corner of her bedroom
with a computer and a fax machine on a garage sale table. Josie went online to find
string quartets for her wedding.

The search was easier than she expected. Most of the online groups had sample videos
or recordings. Several were photographed playing in the Jewel Box. She narrowed down
the groups to four, e-mailing each their music selections and asking if they had the
date open.

Josie e-mailed her fourth choice, carried her empty coffee cup into the kitchen, and
saw it was two o’clock—time to pick up Amelia at the Barrington School for Boys and
Girls. The school was financial light-years away from the Marcus family, but Amelia
went there on a full scholarship. A full scholarship didn’t mean a free ride. Josie
had to pay a thousand dollars a year, plus books and fees. It was a struggle to keep
Amelia in the school, but she wanted the best education for her daughter.

But she was beginning to dread these short trips to school. Her tween daughter had
started speaking another language. “Don’t beast me,” Amelia would complain.

Sometimes Josie wasn’t sure what her daughter said. But she understood one thing:
Amelia was distancing herself from her mother.

That was a healthy part of growing up—or so Josie read on the parenting blogs. She
still felt sad she was losing her little girl. They used to make “guerilla gorilla
raids”—quick, impulsive trips to the St. Louis Zoo after school.

Last week, Josie had said, “Let’s go see the penguins. It will be cool.”

Amelia had rolled her eyes and said, “Mom, nobody talks that way.”

Josie hoped there would be no sarcasm this afternoon. She pulled into the school’s
half-circle driveway. The austere redbrick buildings with white trim shouted money
in well-bred tones.

The Barrington students didn’t shout, either. Nor did they leave the school in noisy
herds. These were the children of old money, power couples, or the doctors and researchers
who staffed the powerful St. Louis medical centers. They were precious to their parents,
and potential kidnapping targets. The children were not released until their parents
or designated drivers were parked at the school.

Josie smiled at the other Barrington mothers waiting for their offspring. Many could
afford to be stay-at-home moms. They gave her cool nods, letting Josie know she was
not one of them.

“Amelia Marcus!” the loudspeaker announced. Josie’s heart sank. Amelia did not come
running across the Barrington lawn. Shoulders hunched, backpack dragging, she moved
as if she had anvils strapped to her shoes.

It’s going to be one of those days, Josie thought.

Amelia tossed her backpack into the backseat and flopped down. Josie could smell her
strawberry shampoo. A frown marred her smooth forehead and she’d covered the sprinkling
of freckles on her nose with Josie’s makeup again. She decided to let it go for now.

Josie tried to kiss her, but Amelia shied away.

“What’s wrong?” Josie asked. She carefully steered past a green Land Rover.

“Nothing,” Amelia said, her voice flat as a doormat.

“That means something,” Josie said. “Are you feeling down?”

“Chill, Mom.”

“I’m not chilling. You’re my daughter and I want to know.”

They were barely out of the school and Josie was already raising her voice.

Amelia responded with surly silence. Josie said nothing.

After a mile, Amelia said, “Oakley, that know-it-all, said Ted was some kind of player
because he was engaged to you and that weird stalker. I said she was scandalous and
Oakley was dumber than Miley Cyrus, and only an idiot would believe anything as lame
as Channel Seven.”

This was the ultimate insult. Amelia hated Miley Cyrus.

“Oakley? Is that a first name or a last?” Josie asked.

Tween names at Barrington could be difficult. Josie knew that “old” names like Kathy,
Susan, and Linda were never used. Barrington parents preferred unisex names: Dakota,
Peyton, Jordan, Sierra, Cassidy and now, apparently, Oakley.

“She’s new,” Amelia said. “Her parents are doctors from Boston. Oakley is her first
name. I call her Annie and she hates it.”

“Wonder why you don’t get along,” Josie said.

“We didn’t even before she saw that video. And she said my grandmother was a weirdo
with a gun.”

“Jane?” Josie said.

“No, Ted’s mother. She’s my grandmother, isn’t she?”

“Well, technically, she’ll be your stepgrandmother, but I doubt Lenore will be happy
if you call her that.”

“Fine with me,” Amelia said. “I don’t like her anyway. Her skin’s all stretched funny.
She doesn’t look nice like my real grandma.”

“Lenore’s had a facelift or two,” Josie said. “She’s proud that she doesn’t have any
wrinkles.”

“She did that to herself on purpose?” Amelia asked.

“Ted’s stepfather did it. He’s a plastic surgeon.”

“I don’t get it,” Amelia said. The surly tone was vanishing.

“Me, either,” Josie said. “And I wouldn’t worry about what Oakley says. That TV show
will soon be forgotten.”

“Mom, it’s gone viral,” Amelia said. “Somebody posted it on YouTube. Oakley showed
it to me on her iPad while I was waiting for you. Ted’s mom is grinning and twirling
her gun. She’s called ‘the pistol-packing mama.’”

“How viral?” Josie asked, and ran a stop sign. A burgundy Buick gave her a horn blast.

“Mom!” Amelia said. “You rolled right through that stop.”

“Sorry,” Josie said. “How many hits did that video get?”

“Thirty thousand,” Amelia said.

Chapter 11

Wednesday, October 24

Josie breathed in the rich, steamy scent coming from her kitchen. “Chicken and dumplings,”
she said. “My favorite perfume.”

“Not quite chicken and dumplings,” Amelia said. “I’m making them now.”

Changeable as a spring day, Amelia was currently in a sunny mood. On the ride home
from school, she and Josie had bonded over their dislike of Ted’s mom.

“I know what I want to be for Halloween,” Amelia said. “A witch.”

“It’s only a week away. Are you making a costume?”

“Emma said I could borrow her teen witch costume. It’s a black pointy hat and black
cape with pink satin lining. She’s going as a vampire this year.”

“Sounds good,” Josie said. She knew Emma wouldn’t have a teen porn star costume with
bustier and thigh-high boots.

“You get to wear costumes on campus,” Josie said. “But you won’t have the afternoon
party now that you’re in middle school.”

“Parties are for babies,” Amelia said. This was her first year at that lofty level.

When they got home, Amelia had finished her homework, chased her cat, Harry, and texted
her friend Emma (not necessarily in that order), then announced she was making chicken
and dumplings for dinner.

Josie was amazed that her daughter seemed to enjoy cooking. Amelia was at the kitchen
counter, expertly cutting the shortening into the flour with two knives, an old-fashioned
method Jane had taught her.

Josie pulled two plates out of the cabinet and Amelia asked, “Isn’t Ted coming over
for dinner?”

“Can’t make it tonight,” Josie said. “He called and said he had a sudden emergency
at the clinic.”

Amelia looked disappointed. “He loves my chicken and dumplings.”

“Once we’re married, you two can cook together every night,” Josie said. “I’ll do
the eating, for better or worse.” She smiled, but Amelia didn’t notice. She was slowly
adding the milk to the dumpling mixture with the concentration of a chemist.

“There,” Amelia said. “Perfect. Not too lumpy or too watery. Ted’s gonna be sorry
he missed these.”

She dropped spoonfuls of dumpling dough on top of the chicken and vegetables, then
covered the pot tightly. “Now, it has to stay that way for fifteen minutes,” she said.
“No snooping, Mom. That’s why your dumplings are tough and soggy.”

“No, it’s not,” Josie said. “I didn’t inherit Grandma’s cooking gene.”

“You sound proud of that,” Amelia said.

“I’m not,” Josie said. “I’m proud of you.” Amelia had an adorable flour smudge on
her nose, but Josie didn’t dare say anything in case it triggered another sulk. Hoping
for a taste, Amelia’s striped cat sat at her feet, ears up, tail curled in a question
mark.

Josie reached down and scratched his ears. “No people food, big guy,” she said. “Ted
says it’s not good for you.”

“What kind of emergency did Ted have, Mom? Another dog hit by a car?”

“Not this time,” Josie said. “A cat ate the ribbon on a balloon. Ted has to remove
it.”

“Stupid owner letting ribbons near her cat,” Amelia said.

“Ted says it wasn’t Cath Hoffner’s fault,” Josie said.

“Cath? The lady who lives down the street?” Amelia asked. “With the cute little girl
Kristyn?”

Josie took the butter dish out of the fridge and set it on the table next to the bread
and milk. “That’s her,” she said. “Cath also has an orange tabby named Audrey.

“Her daughter brought home a party balloon on a curly ribbon. Cath thought she’d tied
the balloon high on the banister, but the cat got it anyway. She heard Audrey throwing
up and saw the ribbon hanging out of her mouth. Cath rushed her to the clinic. Ted
x-rayed the cat and said Audrey ate several feet of ribbon. She needs surgery to remove
it. Ted told his partner, Chris, he’d handle it.

“Cath said she’d pay for it. She feels bad her cat ate the ribbon. Ted says you’d
be shocked how many people abandon their sick pets because they don’t pay the vet
bills. That’s how he got Festus and Marmalade.”

“That’s how Grandma got her dog,” Amelia said.

“Stuart Little really did have a stupid owner,” Josie said. “He told Ted to put him
down—a perfectly healthy dog—because he didn’t want to pay the vet bill. Ted refused
and Grandma took him. He’s been a good dog.”

“I’m glad Harry doesn’t eat things he’s not supposed to,” Amelia said.

Harry jumped up on the table and began licking the butter. Amelia giggled.

“Hey!” Josie said. “You know better, cat!”

Harry stared at her with saucer-sized green eyes, then slid snakelike off the table.
Josie caught him. “Time-out, Amelia,” she said, and handed Harry to her.

“Aw, Mom, he didn’t mean it.”

“He didn’t mean to get caught,” Josie said. “A little time in your bathroom will help
him remember his manners. We only have one stick of butter left.”

“Couldn’t you just cut off the chunk he licked?” Amelia asked.

“He licked the whole top of the stick. He cleans himself with that tongue and I don’t
care for his brand of toilet paper.”

“Ew, Mom, you’re gross,” Amelia said.

“Not as gross as your cat,” Josie said.

Josie expected that remark to trigger another sulk. Instead, Amelia shrugged and carried
Harry off to his temporary prison in her purple bathroom. Then the two sat down to
Amelia’s dinner.

“Your chicken and dumplings tastes even better than it smells,” Josie said. “There’s
a reason why they call it comfort food.” She was ladling herself a second helping
when her cell rang. She checked the display and said, “It’s Ted. Maybe he can still
join us for dinner.”

She opened her phone. By the way Ted said her name, Josie knew he wasn’t calling with
good news. “What’s wrong? Did Audrey die?”

“She came through her surgery just fine,” he said. “I hope I also removed her taste
for ribbons. I was getting ready to lock up and leave when I saw Molly’s Beetle in
our parking lot again. I’m here by myself.”

“Did you call the police?” Josie asked.

“After the way they laughed at me this morning?” Ted said. “What good would that do?”

“Can she get in the clinic?”

“No, I locked the doors after Kathy left an hour ago. I can see Molly’s VW parked
next to my Mustang. It’s right under the security light.”

“Is she getting out of her car?” Josie asked.

“No, she’s sitting in the front seat, watching the door.”

“Stay right there,” Josie said. “I’ll come get you and walk you to your car. Then
you can follow me to my house. Amelia’s made chicken and dumplings.”

“I can’t wait,” Ted said. “Her dumplings are the best.”

“I agree,” Josie said. “Amelia’s dumplings are the best.”

Amelia grinned.

“And I can’t wait to get to the clinic and give bridezilla a piece of my mind.”

“What if Molly attacks you?” Ted said. “She’s crazy.”

“I’m armed,” Josie said.

“You don’t have a gun, do you?” Ted asked.

“No, I’ve got that pepper spray you gave me for protection,” she said. “Stops rabid
dogs and berserk brides. I’m on my way.”

She punched her phone shut. “Did you hear that, Amelia? The stalker bride is lurking
in Ted’s lot. I’m picking up Ted and telling that nut bar to leave my man alone.”

“By yourself?” Amelia asked. “Shouldn’t you take Grandma? Or me?”

“I can handle her,” Josie said. “I’ll have Ted with me. Just keep the chicken and
dumplings warm, and we’ll be right back.”

Josie combed her thick brown hair, slashed on fresh lipstick, and dragged on a clean
white blouse, wondering why she was dressing up to confront a stalker. Because I’m
meeting Ted, she decided. And I want Molly to see he’s mine.

She ran out into the warm October night and wished the weather would be as good on
their wedding day. Too bad St. Louis weather was as unpredictable as Amelia’s moods.

The clinic was only three minutes away, a practical cube embedded in a parking lot.
The lot was deserted except for Ted’s ’68 Mustang and Molly’s Beetle, bronzed by the
security lights.

She saw Ted’s tall, muscular frame outlined in the clinic doorway. Josie parked on
the other side of Ted’s tangerine car. She glanced at Molly sitting upright in her
Bug, eyes aimed at the clinic door. Ted was outside, already locking the door and
setting the alarm.

Josie ran straight to him and gave him a fierce kiss, making sure Molly could see
them. They walked hand in hand to Ted’s Mustang.

“I’ll follow you back to my flat as soon as I talk to her,” Josie said.

“It’s useless, Josie,” Ted said. “She won’t listen.”

“I can at least try,” Josie said.

“Then I won’t leave until you’re back in your car.”

Josie kissed Ted’s cheek, then turned toward Molly. The stalker ignored her. Molly
kept staring straight ahead. Josie was prepared to pound on Molly’s window, but it
was rolled down. No surprise on a warm October night.

“Molly Ann Deaver,” Josie said. “You can fool that horny old judge, but you can’t
fool me. You aren’t engaged to Ted and you know it. He’s marrying me.”

Silence. Molly didn’t move.

“I said, do you understand Ted’s marrying me? Are you going to leave him alone?”

More silence. Josie could hear her car’s engine pinging as it cooled.

“ANSWER ME!” Josie shouted.

The silence grew louder. Now even Josie’s car was quiet.

A furious Josie bent down to get a better look inside the car. Molly still ignored
Josie. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead. In the dim light, Josie saw Molly wore
her seat belt and a dress splashed with pink roses. She had a dark flower behind her
ear.

“Molly?” Josie said.

Her car smelled funny—like iron and something worse.

“Molly!” Josie screamed, and shook her. Molly slumped forward. That wasn’t a red flower
in her hair. She had a bloody wound blooming by her ear.

Molly Deaver had a bullet in her head.