1 Catered to Death (19 page)

“Yes…”

“So the first time it happened, you called me in hysterics. Why didn’t you call me today?”

Steve had a point. “I don’t really know. When Frank was killed, it was like being slapped or something—I was semi-hysterical. Today when Monica was killed, it was different.”

“Different how?”

“I’m not totally sure,” I said slowly. “Maybe because I’m jaded already?”

Steve laughed. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Then maybe because of what Simpson said—that Monica getting killed wasn’t all that much of a surprise. Honestly, Steve, if I had to pick one person out of the entire staff who would end up under a bus, I would have chosen Monica. She didn’t seem to like anyone other than Frank. And none of the other staff seemed to like her either.”

“I wonder if the same person killed both of them.”

“I would guess yes, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid I would—DeeDee, I don’t know about this––”

“Well, I do. It’s fine, Steve. I’ll be fine. And I promise you that if I don’t pick up any good clues at Junebug’s party or if the school finally pays me then I’ll stop my investigation.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” Steve warned.

“You have my word.”

Visibly relaxing, Steve got another beer out of the refrigerator. “What time are we eating?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m ordering a pizza for us. I’ve had enough of cooking for the day.”

Steve laughed. “Do you need me to do anything for you?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Then I’m going to catch a game in the den.” Steve kissed me warmly before leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I got out the ingredients for the biscuits, my mind on my next catering job and also on poor Monica’s demise. Maybe whoever snuffed Monica would also show up at the McClellan’s. Maybe Tyler could do some eavesdropping too, possibly even a little investigating on his own.

I frowned over that last thought. Somehow encouraging my son to be an eavesdropper and a snoop was never one of my goals when I used to take Tyler to the Mommy and Me class in the basement of the Methodist church. Still, this was to solve a crime—two crimes, actually, so I supposed it would be all right to ask for Tyler’s help.

Feeling better, I decided that this might all work out. Tyler really did need to do more in the way of job hunting so maybe working for me would give him the nudge he needed to start filling out more job applications. I’d have Tyler handle the bar while I took care of the food. I’d also tell him to wear a nice shirt that would cover most of his tattoos and to perhaps remove his lip ring. It was all well and good to try and expose Junebug’s crowd to someone as young and as hip as my son, but there was no need to shock them. I wanted to get paid for this gig.

I decided that I wouldn’t mention to Steve that I planned on enlisting Tyler’s help as a junior league sleuth and I’d be sure to tell Tyler not to say anything either. Steve tended to worry too much but I honestly didn’t see any harm in keeping my ears open and my mouth firmly shut. I knew I wasn’t going to rest until I got paid for my first catering job, no matter how much sideline detective work it took on my part and if I managed to solve a couple of murders in the process, well, how cool would that be?

Chapter Sixteen

“Geez, Mom, they’re all so old,” Tyler said in a loud whisper as he surveyed the crowd gathered in the McClellan’s backyard. I looked at him with more than a little pride. Tyler looked quite handsome in a white shirt, clean blue jeans and with his long hair pulled into a pony tail, very different from the far more scruffy son I saw on a daily basis. “I feel like I should be wearing diapers next to them.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to remark that I was sure that a few of the guests at the party were also wearing diapers but I controlled myself. “I think it’s pretty nice for you to be here,” I told Tyler. “You never get to see your grandparents so just pick out a pleasant looking couple and pretend they’re related to you.”

Tyler looked doubtful. “Grandma and Grandpa don’t drink like these people,” he said. “I’ve already gone through a bottle of Jack Daniels and I’ve only been here for an hour. Man, can they suck it up. It’s kind of disgusting.”

Watching a silver haired couple sloppily make out in one corner of the yard, I had to agree with his assessment. The guests at the McClellan’s were a pretty rowdy bunch.
 
“They are…lively,” I said.

“Lively? They’re gross! But they tip great. I’ve already made over a hundred bucks,” Tyler said. “What time do you think this will be over?”

“Oh, probably by eleven or twelve.”

 
“I don’t mind staying and taking care of the bar once you’re done serving the food. Like I said, I’ve gotten some pretty good tips tonight. It’s given me an idea—maybe I’ll go to bartending school.”

It wasn’t the law school degree I had once dreamed of my only son getting but it sure beat sleeping until one in the afternoon and then sitting in front of the computer for the remainder of the day and well into each night. “You should look into it,” I encouraged.

“Do you think Dad would mind if I became a bartender?”

I didn’t tell him that his father wouldn’t mind if he became a Porta Potty cleaner if it meant steady employment. “I’m sure he wouldn’t,” I said. “We both just want you to be happy.” And employed. “I’m going to go see if anyone needs any more food.”

“All right,” Tyler said.

“How about you? Are you hungry? I could bring you a plate of something.”

“No, I’ll eat later. Seeing everyone eating and drinking has kind of killed my appetite.”

A silver haired woman wearing a lovely black pantsuit approached the bar. “I’ll take a rum and Coke, young man,” she said to Tyler. “Light on the Coke and use a heavy hand on the rum.”

“Coming right up, ma’am,” Tyler responded politely.

Walking away, I was proud of Tyler and his professional behavior that night. I couldn’t wait to tell Steve how well his idea worked out.

“DeeDee? Is that you?”

Turning, I saw Ruth Sparrow, Eden Academy’s sweet-natured receptionist standing alone and holding a glass of wine. “Ruth! What are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound surprised but I couldn’t help herself. Ruth was so demure, so quiet and so civilized acting while the crowd at the McClellan’s house was anything but those things.

“Junebug invited me over tonight and I said yes,” Ruth said with a small shrug. “She’s the only one in the whole school who ever asks me to parties.”

“That was nice of her,” I replied, remembering how hurt Ruth had been when she’d been dissed by the other teachers the day of the fatal luncheon.

“I suppose,” Ruth agreed, “but that’s only because Junebug thinks I might know something.”

I glanced down at her wine glass and saw that it was almost empty. Was this going to be another
in vino veritas
moment and was I going to take advantage of it? You bet I was. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“Well, Junebug happened to discover that Frank and I had once been…close.”

Make that very close, as in fathered-my-child close but I didn’t point that out to Ruth. “How did she find that out?”

Ruth blushed. “Frank and I were having a discussion in his office one day over child support and Junebug overheard us. She was checking her mailbox but she should have made her presence known. Anyway, ever since then she’s liked me better. I think
she
thinks that if someone like Frank Ubermann would have an affair with someone like me, I might be socially worthwhile after all.”

It took all of my self-control not to grab Ruth by her shoulders and shake her. “You are socially worthwhile,” I assured her, “whatever that means.”

“You know what I mean.” Ruth gestured toward Junebug’s huge backyard. “Junebug has money and status. All I have is a job that I got from blackmailing the boss.”

Ruth was certainly honest about how she’d landed her position. “Ruth, why would you want to be friends with anyone if they only liked you because you had slept with the boss?”

“You have a point.” Ruth sighed. “It doesn’t really matter though. Now that Frank’s gone I’m pretty sure that I’ll be cut from Junebug’s list anyway.”

If I were Ruth, I wouldn’t be too sad about that. “So what’s been happening at the school?” I inquired. “Any leads on who killed Monica?”

“The police think it might have been an accident.”

“An accident? She was found underneath a school bus!”

“I guess they’re speculating that she fell and rolled under the bus.”

Something told me that the Kemper police department wasn’t sharing everything it knew with the staff at Eden Academy. “What do you think happened?”

“Well, it’s possible that she fell but it seems far more likely that someone killed her.”

“That’s what I think too. But who?”

Ruth shook her head. “All I know is that it wasn’t you and it wasn’t me since we were together when Monica died.”

Good point. “How’s the food taste? I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this but I’d love to know what a guest thinks. My taste testers are all related to me so they aren’t what I’d call objective.”

 
“I’m not eating. A moment on the lips, forever on the hips. That’s what Claudine always says.”

“I wish I could remember that when I’m about to eat half of a cheesecake,” I said with a laugh.
 
“Are you the only one from the school here tonight?”

“No, I’m sure some others will show up.” Ruth peered over my shoulder and I saw her face drop. “Oh, my. There is someone else from Eden Academy here, well, sort of. I didn’t know Sylvia was coming tonight.”

 
“Sylvia?”

“Sylvia Ubermann.” Ruth gestured with her chin toward Frank Ubermann’s widow who had just emerged from the screened porch. Sylvia was wearing a red and white striped dress and her hair was pulled up into a pony tail that was held by a ring of fabric daisies. She looked about twelve years old. All she needed was a lollipop to complete the picture.

I turned back to Ruth as it occurred to me that Frank might have been married to Sylvia at the time he’d had his affair with Ruth. “Sylvia doesn’t know about Amanda, does she?” Again, none of my business but that hadn’t stopped me yet.

“No. That’s how I got my job and kept it all these years. He never wanted Sylvia to know.”

What a mess. I liked Ruth and I couldn’t blame her for doing what she felt she had to do, but the entire situation was way too icky for me to be comfortable with.

Sylvia spotted Ruth and started to walk toward her. “I should check on the food,” I said, sure that Sylvia Ubermann wasn’t interested in talking with me.

“Please don’t go,” Ruth requested, laying a cool hand on my arm. “Sylvia won’t make a scene if you’re here.”

I hesitated, not really wanting to stay but not wanting to abandon Ruth either. The woman seemed so alone in the world. “Why would she make a scene?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she found out about Amanda.” Ruth’s face had grown white. “I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“Buck up,” I muttered as Sylvia got closer. “How could she have found out? Who would tell her?”

Ruth relaxed a little bit. “True,” she said softly. “No one knew but Frank and me. And possibly Junebug.”

“Ruth,” Sylvia said when she reached the spot where we were standing. She didn’t seem angry at Ruth. If anything, Sylvia seemed a lot better than she had at the book club.

“Hello, Sylvia.”

“Such a tragedy about poor Monica.”

“Yes.”

“What’s going on at that school anyway?”

I began to slink away since Ruth seemed to be doing fine on her own.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Ruth assured her.

Turning her head, Sylvia seemed to notice me for the first time. “You again?”

 
“Yes?” I asked, feeling suddenly quite timid, although why Sylvia Ubermann would create that kind of response, I wasn’t sure. The woman was about as threatening as a sprinkler set on Low.

“What perfect timing. I want to have a word with you.”

“Oh? About what?” My stubbornly optimistic streak thought that maybe Sylvia wanted to hire me to cater Frank’s memorial service. But as Sylvia closed the short space between the two of us, I seriously doubted that was the reason Frank Ubermann’s widow wanted to talk to me.

“About the lunch you catered. Didn’t you know that my Frank was allergic to shellfish?”

“What? No one told me. He didn’t say a word and he ate my seafood casserole.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have. Shellfish always made Frank break out in hives. It just kills me to think that his last meal was something that didn’t agree with him.”

I didn’t point out that it didn’t really matter any longer since Frank Ubermann hadn’t lived long enough to break out in anything. “I’m sorry,” I said.

Sylvia sniffed long and hard. “You should be. It’s a caterer’s duty to find out what the guests can and can’t eat.”

Although I’m the very last person in the universe to ever defend extra-marital affairs, I was beginning to understand why Frank had sought the company of other women. Sylvia was a real pain.

“How are we doing, ladies?” Junebug asked, joining our cozy little circle. “Sylvia, what are you doing here? Did I invite you?”

“Of course you did and I’m glad that I came. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had this opportunity to talk to your caterer.”

“What the Sam hill do you want to talk to Doris about?” Junebug asked.

“DeeDee,” Ruth and I corrected simultaneously.

“Whatever. Now what’s up, Sylvia?”

“I was just telling the caterer how incompetent she is. She served a seafood casserole and Frank was allergic to shellfish.” Sylvia glared at me one more time.

 
“Then he shouldn’t have eaten it,” Junebug said. “Now get yourself another drink and let’s party. There’s some more of the gang from school here. Let’s just let our hair down and forget everything bad that’s happened lately.”

“How can we possibly forget that my husband was murdered?” Sylvia demanded.

Junebug shrugged. “Just don’t think about it,” she suggested.

It was good advice that was obviously working for Junebug. “I need to check the food,” I said, excusing myself.

“Check to make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Sylvia said acidly. “For all we know, you’re behind Frank’s murder.”

I stared back at her. I’m not a violent person but Sylvia Ubermann was pushing me to the edge. “I didn’t poison your husband,” I began, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d shut up.”

“Did you hear that? The caterer poisoned someone! Good God, I just ate four bowls of chili!” a voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd. “I feel sick!”

Panic seemed to sweep through the crowd. “I didn’t do anything,” I protested.

“Hold on a minute,” Junebug shouted in a voice that was easily three times bigger than she was and did an effective job of shutting up her guests. “Hold on for one red hot minute! Now, Sylvia, Frank had an arrow sticking out of his chest so shut up about him being poisoned. You’re scaring my guests.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvia said in the same tone that Tyler used to use when we made him apologize to Jane. She glanced over at me. “I just find it quite odd that no one died at Eden Academy until you showed up.”

“What are you talking about?” I spluttered, looking around for a friendly face and seeing none. Finally I spotted Tyler standing at the edge of the partygoers, his face concerned as he listened to Sylvia rant.