Murder Is a Piece of Cake (9 page)

Chapter 14

Thursday, October 25

Jane had her garden supplies spread out on the front porch. Ted and Josie saw the
flat of rubbery bronze mums turned toward the morning sun. Lined up on newspaper were
a slightly rusty trowel, a three-pronged cultivator, and six mousetraps.

Mousetraps?

“Mom, do we have mice out here?” Josie asked.

Ted picked up a trap. “These are the old-school snapping traps,” he said. “That long
metal spike is dangerous. There are better ways to catch mice.”

“I don’t want to catch a mouse,” Jane said. “I’m after the rat who stole my mums.
If he comes back, he’ll get a nasty surprise when those traps snap his fingers.”

“You’ll get a nasty surprise, too,” Ted said. “The plant thief can sue you if he’s
injured.”

“Even if he’s sticking his hands where they don’t belong?” Jane said. “That’s ridiculous.”
She stuck out her jaw. Josie tried not to snicker at her small, furious mother.

“I agree,” Ted said, “but it’s the law.”

“But I have to stop them,” Jane said. “Mrs. Mueller planted poison ivy with her mums.
It looks pretty. See?” She pointed her trowel toward their neighbor’s porch. The trailing
red leaves of poison ivy made a handsome frame for her mums. “But I’m not going out
into the woods to dig it up.”

“Mrs. M better hope her mail carrier isn’t allergic to poison ivy,” Ted said, “or
she’ll be picking up her mail at the post office.”

“Mom, how much were those mousetraps?” Josie asked.

“Four dollars each,” Jane said. “I’m using three traps per pot.”

“So you’ve spent twenty-four dollars to save twenty-five dollars’ worth of mums,”
Josie said.

“Thirty dollars and seventeen cents,” Jane said. “It’s not the money—it’s the principle.”

Ted checked his watch. “I have to be at work in an hour, but I think I can help you,”
he said. “Do you have any canned food?”

“Dog food, tuna, and corn,” Jane said. “I use the little cans of tuna. Take your pick.”

“I’ll need six cans. Tuna would be best,” Ted said. “I’ll help you wash them.”

Josie followed Ted and Jane upstairs. Jane emptied the three-ounce cans of tuna into
a plastic container. Then Ted peeled off the labels and washed them while Josie dried.
Next, Ted used an ice pick to poke holes in the bottoms of the cans and threaded three
each on a piece of string. The cans clanged against one another.

“They’re noisy,” Jane said.

“That’s the idea,” Ted said. “Let’s go bury these in your plants’ roots. Anyone who
tries to pull up your mums will make enough noise to wake you or Stuart.”

“In that case, I’ve got some old jingle bells in the junk drawer,” Jane said, rooting
through it. “Here. Use these, too.”

“Only if you promise to call 911 if you hear the trespasser,” Ted said.

“Deal,” Jane said. “I’m so lucky to have you as my son.”

“You already treat me like one,” Ted said.

Better than his own mother, Josie thought, then felt her heart contract. What if the
wedding couldn’t go off because Lenore was in jail? She couldn’t bring herself to
discuss that possibility with Ted.

Instead, she asked another question she never thought she’d say. “We’re seeing Lenore
at the county jail tonight, right? Seven o’clock?”

“I’ll pick you up at six thirty,” Ted said. “And now I really do have to go.” His
voice was soft with love and reluctance.

“I think I hear my cell phone,” Jane said, and disappeared inside.

Ted gave her such a deep kiss, she wanted to say, Forget the big wedding and let’s
elope today. But she knew Amelia wanted her to have a real wedding with real photos.

Jane rattled her front door, and Ted and Josie parted. She watched wistfully as he
drove off in his tangerine Mustang.

“More wedding errands today?” Jane asked.

“Always,” Josie said. “And I still have Harry the Horrible’s gift, those wedding-related
mystery-shopping assignments. I’d better get going.”

Josie never left home now without her wedding plan notebook. She kept it next to her
bed. She collected it, along with the mystery-shopping material Harry had faxed her.
She almost made it out the door when her cell phone played the tune that was starting
to grate on her nerves.

It was Alyce. “Josie, I saw the story about Lenore’s arrest. How awful. What really
happened?”

“She’s in the county jail,” Josie said. “Whit, Ted’s stepfather, flew in the best
lawyer in Boca.”

“The best lawyer in St. Louis would have worked better,” Alyce said.

“I know that, but Lenore thinks this city is the frontier. I’m worried she’ll be in
jail on our wedding day. I can’t marry her son if she isn’t at the wedding.”

“Oh, sweetie, what are you going to do?”

“Try to figure out who killed Molly.”

“The police won’t like that,” Alyce said.

“Then they should have arrested the real killer,” Josie said.

“I told you Molly’s sister lives in Wood Winds,” Alyce said. “Molly’s body has been
released. The visitation is tonight and the funeral is tomorrow. We can go to the
funeral together.”

“Do you think Emily will recognize me from TV?”

“That big-brimmed hat hid your face,” Alyce said. “If anyone asks, you’re my best
friend, Joanie.”

“I’ll do it,” Josie said. “The visitation could be risky, but there will be a bigger
crowd at the funeral. We can sit in the back. Where is it?”

“St. Clifton’s Church on Ballas Road. I’ll meet you there at nine thirty Friday morning.”

Josie studied Harry’s notes for her mystery-shopping assignment at Flowers by Namorita.
She was supposed to order flowers for the tables at a mythical reception and get a
contract.

“Don’t sign contract,” the notes said, “and get all quotes in writing.” There was
one cryptic note for Flowers by Namorita. “Unusual designs. Rumors of possible scam.”
Trust Harry not to give her any extra clues.

Flowers by Namorita was on Manchester Road, but a far different section than Josie’s
segment in Maplewood. Manchester Road ran more than one hundred twenty miles through
the state of Missouri. Flowers by Namorita was in Wildwood. That part of St. Louis
County had lived up to its name when Josie was a girl. Now it was turning into a tame
suburb.

Josie liked the shop and its spare Japanese décor, but not the cloying scent of hothouse
flowers. A thin woman in black greeted Josie.

“I’m Namorita. How may I help you?”

Josie guessed Namorita was an elegant fifty and thought her sophisticated style needed
a cigarette holder.

“I want to order flowers for my wedding reception,” Josie said. “I didn’t like the
choices the florist who’s doing my wedding offered. They were too old-fashioned. I
heard that you do creative designs.”

“What’s your price range?” Namorita asked. Her shrewd eyes seemed to size up Josie
and weigh her wallet. A fashionable woman like Namorita would know Josie was wearing
last season’s shirt. Her black pants were good quality, but not an up-to-the minute
style. Her flats were the best—French Sole, spotted at a garage sale in the rich neighborhood
of Ladue.

“I’m so lucky,” Josie said. “My future mother-in-law is paying for the reception flowers
and she says money is no object.”

Did a flash of greed flicker in Namorita’s eyes? Josie couldn’t tell. She felt so
carefree saying, “Money is no object”—and getting paid to do it.

“The problem is my wedding is less than a month away,” Josie said. “It’s the day after
Thanksgiving.”

“That’s not a problem,” Namorita said. “It’s an opportunity. Let’s look at some of
our sample books. What are your colors?”

“Red, white, and pink,” Josie said.

“Good,” Namorita said. “Start with our red arrangements here.”

Josie paged through dizzying displays of roses, lilies, chrysanthemums, carnations,
and tulips, until they blurred into crimson blobs. “Wait!” she said. “I like that
arrangement—red tulips surrounded by a cuff of white orchids in the tall glass vase.
It’s exactly what I’m looking for—simple, dramatic, unusual.”

“Excellent choice,” Namorita said. “Now, how many arrangements do you need?”

“Twenty tables with one vase each,” Josie said. “And four vases for the head table,
so twenty-four. It’s hard to tell in the picture, but how many flowers are in that
arrangement?”

“Six Radiantly Red tulips and five white
Phalaenopsis.
Those are moth orchids,” Namorita said. She punched the keys on a black calculator
and showed Josie a figure. Josie hoped her eyeballs didn’t pop and her eyebrows leap
up.

“That should do,” Josie said.

“Good,” Namorita said. “I’ll prepare the contract.”

She returned with a contract that said Josie wanted twenty-four arrangements of Radiantly
Red tulips and white
Phalaenopsis
(moth orchids) along with the price she’d quoted Josie.

“Now you fill in your information and the hall where you’d like the arrangements delivered,”
Namorita said, “as well as your payment information.”

“I need to show this to my mother-in-law,” Josie said. “She’s paying. I’ll fax it
back to you.” When those
Phalaenopsis
turn into real moths, she thought.

All the way to the next florist, Josie’s encounter with Namorita nagged at her. Something
was wrong with that contract, but she couldn’t figure out what.

Gretchen’s Flowers and Gifts was in Rock Hill, a community much closer to Josie’s
home. This flower shop was in a brick cottage. Once again, the bell jangled. This
time a motherly woman with a comfortable bosom and softly graying hair met Josie at
the door.

“I’m Gretchen,” she said. “How can I help you, dear?”

Josie repeated her “money is no object” pitch, but Gretchen didn’t get the slightly
feral look that Namorita had.

“It’s lovely that your mother-in-law is so generous, but you mustn’t take advantage
of her,” Gretchen said. “That’s no way to start your marriage. Let me give you this
list of wedding flowers in season this time of year. And don’t turn up your nose at
chrysanthemums and marigolds. I can do clever things with them. Zinnias are interesting,
and so are asters and dahlias, and I’m very creative with dried leaf accents and candles.”

Gretchen might appear motherly, but her designs were edgy. Josie paged through her
sample book and finally settled on an arrangement of red dahlias and white zinnias
with white tea lights.

“I like that,” she said.

“Good choice,” Gretchen said. “It’s striking, but the arrangement is not so big it
will overwhelm your tables. Your guests will be able to chat with one another.”

She showed Josie a price that was one-quarter of the amount quoted by Namorita. “Now
let me prepare your contract. My computer’s in the back room.”

“I can’t sign the contract,” Josie said. “I’ll have to show it to my mother-in-law
first.”

“Of course you do,” Gretchen said.

Josie felt guilty making Gretchen do all that work for nothing. She’d been so protective
and sweet. Josie liked her arrangement and wished she really could have it for her
wedding reception, but even at Gretchen’s reasonable prices, it was too expensive.

I’ll make it up to you, Gretchen, she thought. I’ll give you a glowing report and
the new wedding Web site will bring you bigger and better customers than me.

“Here’s your contract,” Gretchen said.

It called for arrangement number 548, with five red dahlias, stems twenty-four to
twenty-eight inches long, heads three to four and a half inches in diameter, four
White Wedding zinnias, stems twelve to fourteen inches long, with four-to-five-inch-wide
double blooms, and six white tea lights on a silver metal S-stand.

“White Wedding is the name of the zinnia?” Josie asked.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Gretchen said. “The right look and the right name.”

“You’ve listed the number of blooms,” Josie said, “along with the stem length and
bloom width.”

“Of course, dear. Shortchanging the flowers in a centerpiece is one of the oldest
scams in the business. It makes me ashamed of my profession. A bride meets with a
florist, who shows her a photo of the decorations and offers a price. She signs a
contract, and then at the reception finds out the florist put a lot more flowers into
the photo sample. She’s been shorted. It’s a sneaky trick and I won’t stand for it.
I spell everything out.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Josie said. “Now I have to go see my mother-in-law.”

She didn’t add “in jail.”

Chapter 15

Thursday, October 25

How do you dress when you have a date with your fiancé to see his mother in jail?
Josie wondered. Maybe I should get a tattoo and a tube top. Instead, she chose Ted’s
favorite outfit—black pencil skirt, cobalt blue blouse, and high heels.

He whistled when she answered her door.

“You’re the best-looking thing I’ve seen all day,” he said, and wrapped his arms around
her. Josie felt that lovely flutter she always had with Ted.

“You see cats and dogs,” she said, sinking into his chest. “But I’ll take that as
a compliment.”

He returned her kiss, hot and sexy.

“Mm. You have nice lips,” she said.

“You, too,” he said. This kiss lasted longer and he unbuttoned her top button.

She rubbed her spike heel along his leg. “You smell like coffee and wood smoke.”

Another button undone. “I wish we could stay here all evening,” he whispered.

She licked his earlobe. “Soon,” Josie said. Unless your mother derails our wedding,
she thought.

“Mom! I forgot. We’re going to miss the seven o’clock visiting hour unless we leave
now,” Ted said.

Lenore’s name worked better than a cold shower. Josie buttoned her blouse, straightened
her skirt, and picked up her purse.

“Where’s Amelia?” Ted asked.

Did I unbutton Ted’s shirt? Josie wondered, slightly dazed.

“Upstairs with Mom,” she said. “They’re eating tuna casserole. She’ll save some for
you. What’s the latest on your mother?” That question killed her last lingering bit
of passion.

“Nothing good,” Ted said. “I talked with Whit. Mom’s being arraigned tomorrow at ten.
The charges are first-degree murder.”

Josie winced. Missouri was a death-penalty state, but Ted didn’t need that reminder.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be in court with you then,” she said.

“No, you won’t,” Ted said.

“I want to.”

“And I appreciate the offer. But Mom wouldn’t want you to see her like that. She’s
a proud woman. Please, Josie. Don’t be there. I mean it.”

Josie could tell he did. “Have you talked to her lawyer?”

“My stepfather did. Shelford Clark says there’s no chance of bail because Mom’s charged
with murder and the prosecutor says she was fleeing the state. The murder weapon was
definitely Lenore’s.”

“But her purse was missing,” Josie said.

“Misplaced, according to the prosecutor. The waitress found it and Mom announced to
the entire Blue Rose Tearoom that nothing was missing. The waitress says she’ll testify.”

“Lenore should have given her a reward,” Josie said.

“Wouldn’t make any difference,” Ted said. “The police have twenty other names. Mom
must have made quite an impression there. The police found her fingerprints on the
bullets and her partial print on the murder weapon.”

“Where did the police get her prints?” Josie asked.

“From her damned concealed carry permit,” Ted said. She’d never heard him criticize
his mother before. “She had to brag about that gun on TV.”

“Her lawyer could explain the prints,” Josie said.

“What about the security video?” Ted said.

“I thought the clinic’s camera wasn’t working,” Josie said.

“A house two doors down has one. Its outdoor camera caught a dark Chevy Impala approaching
the clinic at 6:12, then go flying by in the other direction at 6:21. Lenore rented
a navy blue Chevy Impala.”

“Is she the Impala’s driver?” Josie asked.

“No,” Ted said. “You can’t really identify who the driver is. You can see a shape
behind the wheel, but it could be a woman or a man. Can’t see the license plate, either.
But the car fits with the time of death and Lenore can’t account for two hours after
she left the hotel. She says she got lost going to the airport. The police say she
made a detour to Rock Road Village and killed Molly, then became a fugitive. Mom says
she needed to fly home two days early because Whit broke his ankle.”

“Did Lenore leave you a message that she was rushing home?” Josie asked.

“No,” Ted said. “Mom says she was going to call me from the airport but never got
a chance. The police think that’s another sign of her guilt. So is flying commercial
for the first time since she married Whit. It doesn’t help that she threatened Molly
with a gun and it was on TV.”

Running endlessly, Josie thought. And it had gone viral on YouTube. No point in saying
that, either. Ted was miserable enough. She stared at the lights of downtown Clayton,
a concrete canyon in St. Louis County. The county jail looked like another office
tower—except its criminals had been caught.

“I didn’t tell you the best part,” Ted said as he pulled into a parking garage near
the jail. “Lenore had a rolling suitcase when she was taken into custody in the TSA
line. The police got a warrant and opened it. Guess what they found?”

“Clothes?” Josie said hopefully.

“The suit she wore at the clinic,” Ted said. “Still in the dry cleaner’s bag with
a note that the cleaners couldn’t get the stain out.”

“What stain?” Josie said, her heart sinking.

“Blood. Molly’s blood. Remember when she attacked me with the scalpel?”

“Not likely to forget that,” Josie said.

The bizarre chain reaction replayed in her mind: Bridezilla trying to drag Ted off
to the minister. Bella jumping out of her basket and biting Marmalade. Ted’s cat swatting
Bella, and Molly swooping in to save her dog and slapping Ted. That was when Marmalade
scratched Molly and she started bleeding.

She wished she could wipe away the image of herself, frozen in place.

“Your mother stepped in and took the scalpel out of Molly’s hand,” Josie said. “That’s
when she got the blood on her suit.”

“That’s what Mom told them,” Ted said. “The police didn’t have enough for DNA testing,
but they can show it’s Molly’s blood type.”

“But they can see what happened at the clinic,” Josie said. “Channel Seven has it
on tape.”

“The prosecuting attorney issued a subpoena for it. Channel Seven says it’s station
policy to erase all tape except what’s used in the actual shows. They claim they don’t
have room to store all that tape.”

“Do you think that’s true?” Josie asked.

“The judge believed them,” Ted said. He eased the Mustang into a parking spot. They
joined the line for the jail’s metal detectors. Some visitors were tired workers finishing
a long day. Others were swaggering young men, flirty young women, and a scattering
of children.

To Josie, the air was charged with rage and weariness. She and Ted stowed their cell
phones and Josie’s purse in a locker.

Lenore sat in a booth behind a plastic glass screen. Josie tried to hide her shock.
Her mother-in-law’s complexion was drained by the dull beige scrubs. Her face looked
different, too. Josie realized Lenore wasn’t wearing makeup—but her hair looked perfect.

Josie forced herself to smile and said, “Lenore, how are you?”

“Stuck in this hellhole,” Lenore hissed. “Surrounded by hicks.”

“Mom, please. Your voice carries,” Ted said. “You don’t want to upset people.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about the inmates, Ted. I get along fine with the girls. They
know all about me. Call me the Pistol-Packing Mama. Isn’t that a hoot? We have so
much in common.”

“You do?” Josie said.

“Tabitha—she’s the one at the end talking to the older gentleman—has been charged
with shooting her boyfriend. But the police arrested the wrong woman. Just like me.
And Lizzie—I call her Liz, because she’s a distinguished-looking young person—didn’t
mean to shoot her man. He came in drunk at three a.m. and she mistook him for a burglar.”

“Right,” Ted said.

“She’s trying to make something of herself,” Lenore said. “She’s been to beauty college
and she worked wonders with my hair. I would have paid two hundred dollars for this
in Boca.” She patted her hair.

“Aren’t you worried about the murder charge?” Josie asked.

“No, I’m innocent and I have a good lawyer,” she said, and made a brushing motion
with her hand as if she could flick away a first-degree murder charge. “Well, enough
about me. Let’s get down to business. Josie, did you bring your wedding plan notebook?”

“I’m not allowed to bring it inside here,” Josie said. “Jail rules.”

“Then fax a copy to my attorney,” Lenore said. “He can bring in the paper. I’ll convey
my instructions through him.”

“It’s not necessary,” Josie said. “Ted and I have everything planned.”

“Not everything,” Lenore said, and narrowed her eyes at Ted. “I want to know why you
didn’t invite your brother, Richard, to be in your wedding.”

Josie braced herself. She knew this fight was coming and Ted had promised to handle
it.

“Because I can’t trust Dick, Mom,” Ted said.

“His name is Richard, not Dick,” Lenore said. “He was named for your grandfather.”

“Grandfather would have been ashamed of his namesake’s stupid practical jokes. Dick
started doing this”—Ted stopped and searched for a word—“nonsense at age eight when
he short-sheeted my bed.”

“Ted, you’re such a grouch, darling,” Lenore said. “Even when you were a little boy.”

“You thought he was cute, Mom. Every night was a misery—ice cubes in my pillows. Pies
in the sheets. He never stopped. On his last visit here, he superglued a tennis ball
to my dog’s paw. That was the last straw.”

“And you value a dog over your own brother?” Lenore asked.

“My dog is smarter—and kinder,” Ted said. “I haven’t spoken to my idiot brother since.”

“It was a prank gone wrong,” Lenore said.

“You make excuses for him, Mom,” Ted said. “Dick—”

“Richard,” Lenore corrected.

“Has been fired from ten jobs for his so-called pranks,” Ted said. “And Whit got him
most of those. Last time, Dick—”

“Richard,” Lenore said.

“Put the manager’s stapler and pen set in Jell-O.”

“He saw that on
The Office.
Everyone thought it was hilarious. His employer had no sense of humor.”

“How funny was it when he Saran Wrapped Whit’s car and he was nearly late for surgery?”

“We spoke to him about that, dear.”

“He nearly cost you your country club membership after he put itching powder on the
men’s locker room toilet seats.”

“Whit made a generous donation to the expansion fund and it was forgotten,” Lenore
said.

“He’s thirty, Mom, and acts like he’s fifteen,” Ted said. “One of these days he’s
going to hurt someone.”

Lenore fixed her son with a look.

Uh-oh, Josie thought. He’s going to cave.

“Ted, I don’t ask for much, but I’m begging you to include your brother in your wedding.
Please.”

“What if he pulls one of his stupid tricks?” Ted asked.

“I’ll speak to him,” Lenore said. “I’ll cut off his allowance if he misbehaves.”

“It’s up to Josie,” Ted said.

Wait a minute, Josie thought wildly. How’d I get in the middle? She looked for an
escape, then realized she was trapped—in a jail.

“Uh—” Josie stalled for time.

“Then it’s all settled,” Lenore said. “Richard will make an excellent best man.”

“What! No freakin’ way,” Ted said. “I already have someone. My clinic partner, Christine,
will stand up for me.”

“But she can’t be your best man,” Lenore said. “She’s a woman.”

“Dick doesn’t act like a man,” Ted said. “And I can’t uninvite her.”

“Male attendants for the groom are so old-school,” Josie added.

That did it. Lenore had to be cutting-edge. “Then Richard can escort Whatchamacallit.
Josie’s—”

Josie glared at Lenore. If she says “illegitimate,” I’ll tear out that plastic glass
and strangle her with my bare hands, Josie thought.

Even the clueless Lenore must have caught the look in Josie’s eyes. “Lovely daughter,”
she finished.

“Her name is Amelia,” Josie said, fighting down her anger.

“Sorry,” Ted said. “Christine’s son, Todd, is escorting Amelia. They’ll make a cute
couple. And he’s Amelia’s age.”

“What about the matron of honor?” Lenore asked.

“Alyce’s husband can escort her. He owns a tux,” Josie said.

“But you haven’t asked him yet,” said the crafty Lenore. “Please say yes, Josie.”

Can I do that to my best friend? Josie wondered. Alyce was a strong woman. She was
married to a demanding lawyer and she had a toddler. Dick didn’t act much older. She
could control him for one day.

“I—,” Josie said.

“Josie, don’t say yes until Mom agrees to the conditions,” Ted said. “Dick will be
properly dressed in a tux, black socks, bow tie and black dress shoes.”

“
Richard
will wear his
dinner jacket
with the appropriate accessories,” Lenore said.

“And he will keep his clothes on for the wedding and the reception,” Ted said. “I
don’t want him mooning anyone. Plus there will be no jokes—or what passes for a joke
around Dick.”

“I guarantee that Richard’s behavior will be impeccable or he will lose his allowance
for three months.”

“Twelve months,” Ted said.

“One full year,” Lenore said.

Oh, Alyce, Josie thought, what am I doing to you?

“Josie, please say yes,” Lenore said. “I so want to see Ted married and then I want
to fly home.”

“And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you board that plane to Boca,” Josie
said—and meant every word.