Rest in Pieces (16 page)

“I prefer tequila to tea.” Edna took her cup from Haley and knocked back the entire cupful.

Since alcohol would possibly make her more forthcoming, I elbowed Haley to fill her teacup again.

The plastic creaked loudly as Monica and I sat on the sofa.

“Help yourself to the goodies. They’re fresh this morning.” Edna knocked back another cupful.

She didn’t have to ask me twice. I grabbed a china plate and picked up a finger sandwich. It was shinier than normal and lighter. I thumped it. It was plastic, like the food often seen in model homes. I tested the other baked goods, all plastic. Edna loved her some plastic. What kind of sick bitch offers her guests plastic food? Who does that?

My stomach rumbled and I risked the gonorrhea curse and shot her a dirty look. Since Edna was on her third teacup of tequila, I’m pretty sure she missed my death glare. Damn, I hated wasting a perfectly good dirty look on the oblivious.

Edna slurped down her fourth cup of tequila. I had to admit, the fact that she was still sitting upright was impressive. Clearly she had a high tolerance for tequila. Her liver must be bullet proof.

“Mrs. Miars, thanks for having us. I was hoping to talk to you about Molly.” Might as well jump on in there before the old lady fell over.

Mrs. Miars’ face crumbled and her eyes clouded over with tears. “I miss her so much.”

So what if she was a little eccentric, she’d loved her daughter. That was obvious.

“She used to bring me Godiva chocolates. I really miss those chocolates.” She stuck her hand down the front of her dress and pulled out a wad of Kleenex. Now her left breast was considerably smaller than her right. Evidently, she stored lots of Kleenex in her cleavage.

Like an elephant trumpeting, she blew into the wad of tissues. “That Godiva chocolate was the highlight of my day.”

I take back the “she loved” her daughter. Obviously, Molly had been nothing more than a vehicle to bring the old woman chocolate. No wonder Molly hadn’t spoken often of her mother; this woman was tied with Attila the Hun for most huggable.

“To my sweet Holly…I mean Molly.” Edna’s words were starting to slur. She held up her teacup in a toast. “May she nest in peace.”

Monica and I looked at each other, both willing the other not to make a rest in pieces joke. Sophomoric humor got a bad rap.

We all toasted Molly, but Mrs. Miars was the only one who drank. It’s not that we didn’t love Molly, but doing tequila shots right before we picked up our kids from school seemed like a bad idea.

Mrs. Miars turned to Haley. “I don’t suppose you could start bringing me Godiva chocolates.”

It was more of an order than a request.

Haley dropped her gaze. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Monica and I both stared at Haley. Over my dead body was she bringing anything to the woman who’d birthed Molly…or had she.

“Any chance Molly was adopted?” I smiled. Maybe Molly’s real parents had been KGB agents on the run or perhaps serial killers—both were preferable to this woman.

“No.” Mrs. Miars turned her faded blue eyes on me. “Could you bring me chocolates?”

Only if they were spiked with Drano, but that didn’t seem like the best comment to make considering that I needed information from her. “Sorry, but I’m allergic to chocolate; even the scent gives me hives. I’m so lucky that these chocolate cookies are plastic or I’d be dead right now.”

“That’s too bad.” Mrs. Miars sighed heavily.

I’m pretty sure she was talking about the chocolates and not my fake allergy.

Her eyes drifted closed and her breathing turned shallow and rhythmic. It appeared that she’d started drinking before we’d arrived.

I picked up one of the plastic croissants and tossed it at her. It beaned her in the side of the head.

She shot up and looked around. “Yes, Hoover did borrow my pink party dress.”

“Good to know.” I leaned forward and propped my elbows on my knees. “About Molly. Was she seeing anyone?”

Edna’s gaze zeroed in on me like she was trying to focus, but couldn’t quite manage it. “She saw lots of people. She had eyes.”

She laughed at her own joke. Now that I saw it in action, I wasn’t going to laugh at my own jokes anymore, even if mine were way funnier.

“Was she dating anyone?” I considered throwing another plastic goodie but I needed her to not kill me. She was old and somewhat frail, but she had evil on her side so I wasn’t sure I could take her.

“Yes.” She grinned from ear to ear and smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in her dress. “She was dating a doctor…an eye doctor.”

Haley and I exchanged a look. Had Molly been lying about a relationship with Dr. Dick just to appease her mother? That seemed like the most likely scenario, but the thought of her really dating him made my skin crawl.

Monica sat back and crossed her legs, plastic crunching under her. “Was there anyone else? A special friend or something?”

Edna stared off into space. Since her eyes were out of focus, I couldn’t tell if she was thinking really hard or if she’d had a stroke.

“No, no one I can remember.” Slowly she put her index finger to her lips and tapped. I didn’t know if she was shushing us or that was her thinking pose. “She did have a friend…she was named after a car. Let me think a minute. It might have been Maverick or Mercedes…”

“Could it have been Mustang?” I offered. I guess the introductions all the way back ten minutes ago, had skipped her mind.

“Yes…that was it.” She pointed to me. “Her name was Mustang. Have you tried talking to her?”

Sadness stumbled into my heart. Molly had thought of me as a dear friend. I missed her. This was the first time that I’d admitted it. After I found out what happened to her, then I’d allow myself to grieve.

“Yep.” Monica nodded. “She was no help.”

I did that thing where I pretended to scratch my eyebrow and flipped Monica off.

“Did anything out of the ordinary happen around the time that Molly died?” I needed answers. “Did she meet anyone new or do something that she didn’t normally do?”

Like try heroin? Then again, would she really admit that to her mother?

“My cup’s empty, dear.” Edna held it out for Haley to fill.

“I beg your pardon.” Haley couldn’t help her good manners. They were part of her DNA like eye and hair color…well eye color. She filled Edna’s cup one more time.

She sipped her tequila. “Now that I think about it, she did have to cancel our weekly Saturday lunch date to help a sick friend.” The slightest bit of coherence flashed in her eyes. “Why are you asking me all of these questions?”

Haley topped off Edna’s cup. “No reason, we were just going through Molly’s…um…” I had to give her credit for starting out solid, but she’d lost it in the follow through.

“Calendar.” I picked up. I was an excellent liar, where as Haley couldn’t even make it through one sentence. “We wanted to make sure that there was nothing that she’d left unfinished. I know that she did lots of charity work for the Baptist church and for the food pantry.”

I took a mental bow for that marvelous save. Monica winked at me in appreciation.

“Oh.” Edna drew the word out for several beats. “Okay.”

She thought some more or possibly had another stroke. “No, she didn’t do anything…” The finger went back to the lips. “There is something.”

Slowly she inch–wormed her way off of the sofa and tried to stand, but fell back against the sofa. I reached out and righted her.

“Thank you, dear.” She said in the same gracious voice she’d used to wish a social disease on Diane Sawyer. Edna staggered around the coffee table and went to a china hutch that was—you guessed it—encased in plastic. She unzipped a side panel and opened a drawer. I couldn’t help but notice her vast collection of clown figurines behind the plastic and glass of the china cabinet. She shuffled some papers around, a handful of receipts dropped to the floor, and then she came up with something.

“Here it is.” Edna held her hands up in a Rocky victory pose. She staggered back to the sofa and like she’d just run a couple of marathons, sank down onto the cushions. “Here you go.”

She dropped a key into my hand. It wasn’t a normal sized house key, but smaller and lighter. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with it. “What does it go to?”

“No idea.” Edna’s head wobbled back against the sofa back. “She said that I might need it if something happened to her.”

I wanted to say, next time lead with that, but she was asleep again.

Monica took the key and held it up to the light. She turned it over and over. “There’s not so much as a number on this sucker. It’s so small, it looks like a key to a locker or a small padlock.” She shook her head. “It could be anything.”

It was smaller than the keys I’d found at Molly’s house.

“How are we supposed to find the lock that it fits?” Haley put down the teapot and stood. “I think we should leave before she wakes up.”

I stood too. “I agree.”

Monica stood. “One thing first.”

She sauntered off the plastic pathway and walked right onto the deep orange carpet. She dug her heels in, stomped a couple of times, and made her way to the front door. “That was bothering me.”

Haley bit her bottom lip, eased out the sofa cushion next to Edna, flipped it over and unzipped it, took the teacup that was resting in Edna’s lap, and poured the tequila on the underside of the cushion. Then she zipped it up and replaced it. “Everyone needs a sofa cushion with a stain on the bottom.”

Monica nodded. “I’m so proud of you, Hales. It wasn’t the top of the cushion, but it’s progress.”

“Good one.” I patted Haley on the shoulder. “I say we stop off at Home Depot on our way back to your house and see if this key looks like it fits anything on the padlock aisle.

Edna Miars had been more help than I’d thought she would be. I couldn’t see her as the killer—for one thing, Molly’s death had been messy. I don’t think the princess of plastic could take all of that blood. For another, Molly’s death had seriously impacted her Godiva chocolate fix. If Edna was Molly’s killer then my middle name was Rufus. Thank God, I didn’t have a middle name.

Chapter 12

Two evenings later, after Max and I had spent a half hour comparing the key to every lock in Home Depot and came up with nothing, I drove up to my little guesthouse. As I turned into my private drive, my headlights reflected off a black boxy car parked in my parking space. I pulled up beside it. The car looked kinda like a fancy Hyundai. I didn’t know anyone who drove a black Hyundai except my arch enemy satan, a.k.a. Salina Atan, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t here to thank me for signing her up for Cell Mate to Soul Mate, “where love shackles our hearts, not our hands,” an online dating site for prison inmates. I genuinely hoped she found true love and just to up her odds, I’d signed her up for both men seeking women and women seeking women. People really shouldn’t leave their Facebook password taped to the inside of a locked desk drawer—anyone with a vendetta and a sharp letter opener could have found it.

The Hyundai’s driver side door opened and a tall figure stepped out.

“Who’s that man?” Max pointed to the figure.

“I don’t know, but stay in the car until I find out.” I opened my door and slid out onto the pavement. I hadn’t meant to slide, but what with Bessie’s vinyl seats and my black silk blend trousers, I’d been sliding all over the place today.

“Mustang?” The Hispanic accented voice was vaguely familiar.

Now I saw that the car was a Rolls Royce and not a Hyundai. Thank God I didn’t comment on his nice Hyundai. Rich people get so mad when you mix up their expensive possessions. One day in the parking lot at work, I complimented a lady’s huge topaz ring. Her eyes got all big and she informed me that it was a whiskey diamond. When she came in a couple of weeks later to pay her husband’s hospital bill, I complemented her on her Kool–Aid diamond, just to piss her off. It worked; she was pissed off. Sarcasm is just another service we offer in Lakeside Regional Hospital’s billing department. Pissing people off and price gouging the idle rich by charging fifteen dollars for a Band–Aid are really the only entertainment sources I have. It’s the simple things in life.

“Yes.” I got closer and saw the killer dimples. “Mr. Rodriguez?”

I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to call him Daman or not.

“It’s Daman.” He slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

Well that mystery was solved. I tried to think of a nice way to ask why he was here, but nice isn’t my natural state of being. “What can I do for you?”

“Mom, is he here to kill us or can I get out of the car?” Max yelled from the passenger’s side window.

When Max had been a baby, I’d thought it was a good idea to teach him to speak—now I regretted that decision.

“I think we’re good.” I waved for him to come on over. I was like ninety–percent sure Daman wasn’t here to kill us…okay, eight–five percent.

Max jumped out of the car as I unlocked and opened my front door, flipped on the lights, and stepped aside letting Daman go first. “Would you like to come in?”

I’d never had a drug lord in my house before, then again, I’d never had a rodeo clown or a tent revival preacher or WWF wrestler either. I did have a transvestite once, but that had been at Halloween so I still didn’t know if he was really a cross dresser or just pretending for the evening. Either way, he’d rocked that gold bikini.

Daman held the door for me and Max and then he walked into my tiny, little guesthouse. While Daman wasn’t a huge man, he was well over six feet and muscled. He made my little house seem even smaller.

“Have a seat.” I gestured to the sofa in front of the fireplace, then turned to Max. “What’s the homework situation?”

I know we had company, but homework came first.

“Taken care of.” Max grinned. “Mr. Battus let us do our math homework in class. What’s for dinner?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering some dinner for us.” Daman sat on the sofa.

He wanted to have dinner with us? And he’d ordered it? I hope it involves carbs. Every time I turned around, there was a handsome man bringing me food. I hadn’t popped a frozen pizza in the oven for days. My electric bill should be pretty damn low this month.