Accessory to Murder (24 page)

The bride, in a full-skirted white dress and long veil, sat down on a turtle back. The groom kissed her. Four bridesmaids in frothy pink velvet dresses applauded.

Amelia watched, spellbound. Josie hoped her daughter wasn't going to ask about her wedding pictures. She held her breath.

“Do you remember when I was a little girl in kindergarten,” Amelia said, “and you let me dress up in your high heels and a pink bridesmaid dress to play princess?”

Josie managed a nod.

“That was my favorite thing,” Amelia said.

“It was?” Josie said, surprised. She had an album full of photos of Amelia playing, but no memory of the pink princess. Funny how memory works, Josie thought. Something that means nothing to us can be so important to someone else.

Later, after too much grief and pain, Josie would realize Amelia had given her the key to the mystery in the Turtle Playground.

Josie's one regret about that afternoon was she didn't take it.

“You're driving me to Arsenal Street,” an exasperated Jane used to tell Josie.

Generations of St. Louis mothers said that to their unruly children, instead of, “You're driving me crazy.” Arsenal Street was the site of the old state hospital for the insane.

When Josie heard Jane say those words, she knew she was heading for trouble.

Once, Josie got caught holding a shrieking and stall-door-slamming contest in the school bathroom. Josie loved the room's echoey acoustics, and tried to get her classmates to appreciate them. The teachers were not amused.

Jane actually drove ten-year-old Josie to Arsenal Street. It was twilight when Jane showed her the creepy brick building behind the grim stone fence. “That's where you'll put me if you don't start behaving,” Jane had told her.

Josie took one look at her mother's clenched jaw and wild hair, and knew Jane was at her wit's end. Josie was so scared, she was nearly perfect for a whole week.

But Josie was a different kind of mother. Amelia didn't drive her crazy. She thought her daughter kept her sane. Josie knew if she didn't spend the afternoon at the Turtle Playground with Amelia, she would be sick with guilt over Alyce. She'd spent a good part of Sunday mentally beating herself up.

An hour with Amelia giggling, eating chocolate chip cookies, and baptizing the big turtle kept Josie sane.

Josie also felt a bittersweet pang. She knew Amelia would be a teenager soon, and then she really would drive Josie crazy. Amelia would no longer want to be seen with her mother, even if Josie did change her sweater. Josie's very existence would embarrass her daughter. The saggy-sweater incident was a foretaste of the future.

Amelia was tugging on the sleeve of Josie's acceptable Windbreaker. “Mom, we gotta go,” she said. “It's going to rain.”

Josie shook herself free of her dark thoughts. The sky was roiling with jagged black clouds, and the light had the yellow-green edge that signaled tornado weather. The temperature was dropping like an express elevator. Amelia's teeth were chattering from the cold. Josie took off her Windbreaker and wrapped it around her daughter.

“All good things come to an end,” Josie said. “And bad ones, too, for that matter.”

A gust of wind blew the bride's veil over her face and ripped the bouquet out of a bridesmaid's hand. The frivolous pink bouquet rolled across the ground toward Josie. She caught the runaway flowers and handed them back to the bridesmaid.

“You're next to get married,” the bridesmaid said, laughing.

“Only works for bridal bouquets,” Josie said. “I'm safe.”

Fat drops of rain plopped all around them. Josie and Amelia ran for the car and hurled themselves into the seats, laughing, wet, and windblown.

“My turtle is really baptized now,” Amelia said.

Another gust shook the car, and it took all Josie's concentration to steer the little Honda through the flash-flooded streets.

Only after a dinner of broccoli and burgers (onions and ketchup, no pickles for Amelia), only after Amelia finished her homework, only after she IM'ed her friend Emma and was tucked into bed, did the guilt get to Josie again. The cold rain lashed the house and rattled the old windows. Equally cold accusations beat on Josie's conscience.

She had ruined Alyce's marriage with her amateurish meddling. She had interfered in Evelyn's life and now the artist was dead. Not just dead, horribly murdered. She had—

Her bleak thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing at nine thirty that night.

“Josie, I didn't interrupt anything, did I?”

Josie nearly dropped the phone. Alyce was breaking her ironclad rule about calling during family hours.

“What's wrong?” Josie said.

“I went to bed early, but I couldn't sleep, so I called you.”

“Won't you wake up Jake?”

“I'm sleeping in the guest room,” Alyce said.

“Oh, Alyce.” Josie wanted to weep at the damage she'd done. Alyce was totally isolated now—no husband, no parents, no friends except Josie. Some friend she was.

“This is all my fault,” Josie said.

“No, it's all Jake's fault. He embezzled our son's money.”

“But if I hadn't said anything—”

“I would have found out at the trial, and everyone in the courtroom would have seen my shock and shame. I couldn't bear that, Josie. I couldn't. I can't stand to be a public fool. It's bad enough the rest of his office thinks I'm the duped wife because he met Halley in a hotel suite.

“What I have to say couldn't wait until morning. I called to tell you how much I appreciate all you've done.”

“Yeah, I'm a regular Sherlock Holmes,” Josie said.

“No, you've been a big help. You've found out more than those overpriced private eyes Jake's lawyer hired. Please don't give up. I need you to keep investigating.”

“Thanks, Alyce. I've been sitting here listening to the house blowing down, and beating myself up about how I've ruined your life.”

“Well, stop it. Right now. Let's spend our time on something productive. Where do we go next? Who should we check out?”

“My prime candidate for the killer is Halley's husband,” Josie said. “Cliff had that big fight with her the night before she died. She said terrible things about Cliff and their little girl. Halley wanted the divorce, and he didn't want to let her go. A lot of men kill their wives and lovers rather than let them go.”

“Cliff is my choice, too,” Alyce said. “But he's not at work this week. He's home. His parents are staying with him, and he has visitors coming and going all day long. I can't go to Halley's house. They think my husband killed her. They hate me.”

“I'm sure that's not true,” Josie said.

“Well, I can hardly make a condolence call,” Alyce said.

“Maybe we can't intrude on the family,” Josie said. “But we can ask questions at Cliff's office. Let's go there tomorrow. I'll drive.”

“It's a date,” Alyce said. “How early can you pick me up?”

“I have to mystery-shop first thing tomorrow. Want to put on your red wig and go with me?”

“I won't go to the Dorchester Mall,” Alyce said. “I can't stand the sight of that place. It's ruined my life.”

“Relax, we're going to Plaza Venetia,” Josie said. “I'll pick you up at nine.”

“Anything to get out of here,” Alyce said. “Mrs. Palm comes at eight, and she'll watch Justin all day. See you tomorrow.”

Alyce hadn't said one bad word about Jake, but Josie could feel her friend's seething rage.

I don't care what Alyce says, Josie thought. It is my fault. I wish she'd never found out about Jake borrowing money from Justin's college fund. Maybe he would have restored the money before Alyce noticed it was gone.

Right. And maybe I'll get an invitation to sing with the Dixie Chicks.

OK, it wasn't her fault. But Josie still felt bad.

As punishment for her useless meddling, she set up another dinner with the awful Granby. They'd talked about it, but they hadn't agreed on a date yet. Josie thought Granby had lethal levels of ambition. He wouldn't let anything stand in the way of his headlong rush to success—including Jake.

Josie didn't tell Alyce that Granby was number two on her Halley Hit Parade and that she'd set up another date. Alyce would feel guilty, and Josie would feel guilty that Alyce felt guilty, and they would be buried in an avalanche of guilt. It wasn't worth it.

Josie decided she would just do it. If she learned anything, she'd tell Alyce. Besides, a date with Granby would make Jane happy. Josie felt no compunction about feeding her mother's false hopes. Jane should know her daughter and the greedhead lawyer were a spectacular mismatch.

Josie dialed Granby's number. He answered, his voice ridiculously rich and manly. She could see those broad shoulders and that mighty dimpled jaw. The
George of the Jungle
theme screamed in her head. Too bad the guy wasn't an oil painting. He was perfect until he started talking.

“Josie,” he said. “I'm glad you called. I'm thinking of getting a new HDTV. Samsung has a model that's only fifteen and a half inches deep. That's thirty percent thinner than the old CRTs. What do you think?”

That you're a complete twit, she thought.

“That we should discuss it over dinner,” she said, her voice soft and flirty. “I know we talked about going out again, but we didn't set a date. So are we going out again, or were you leading me on, handsome?”

Oh, barf. She was channeling Jayne Mansfield.

“How about Wednesday night?” he said. “I'll pick you up at seven thirty. Can you stand Tony's again?”

He hadn't found anyone better for the power brokers' floor show. “I'll try,” Josie said.

“You're quite the little joker,” he said. “I like a woman with a sense of humor.”

Josie almost told him it was model XC3 from Sony, but she was afraid he'd pull the plug on their date.

“We may be ordering champagne,” he said. “My partnership is getting closer every day.”

“Oh?” Josie let her voice linger, breathy and interested.

“Turns out murder is the least of Jake's problems,” he said. “He's done something big and bad at the firm that's going to get his ass kicked out no matter what. I can almost feel that Porsche under me.”

Josie couldn't take any more. “Well, I can't wait to hear about it Wednesday,” she said, and hung up.

In the old days, I could have worn a hair shirt and scourged myself as punishment for my sins, she thought. Instead, I have to suffer a near-eternal evening with Granby, atoning for what I did to Alyce.

No point in being a complete martyr. Josie picked up the phone again and dialed another number.

“Hello, Mike,” she said. She could see him, too, and it was a much better picture than she got with Granby. She saw that quirky curve in Mike's right eyebrow. The curl that always settled on his forehead. And the soft and very kissable hollow at the base of his neck.

“You must be psychic,” he said. “I was just about to call you. I really enjoyed our evening. Want to go out tomorrow night?”

Josie went to bed smiling. Alone, but smiling.

A guard in a sharply pressed uniform waved Josie through the gates with military precision.

Wood Winds looked rich and secure this morning. The winter sun gilded the mansions and turned the bare trees into ebony and silver works of art.

Was this enchanted place really a hotbed of murder, adultery, and greed? It seemed as substantial as the sheltering limestone hills. No wonder Alyce didn't lock her doors. It was hard to believe anything bad could happen here.

But Josie saw her answer on Alyce's street. Black-clad mourners were gathering at the home with the Halley-blue trim, moving in clouds of expensive perfume and speaking in soft whispers. A caterer's truck was unloading the funeral feast. A little girl in a blue velvet dress stood lost in the middle of the lawn. Her mother should have told her to put on her coat.

But her mother was not there. Today was Halley Hardwicke's funeral.

Alyce rabbited out her side door with her head down, as if she were running from an angry mob. Her red wig seemed too colorful for the subdivision's somber mood. She'd covered it with a black scarf.

“Halley's funeral must be today,” Josie said.

“It's at noon,” Alyce said. “It's a memorial service. Linda says she's being cremated.”

“Are you going?” Josie asked.

“As what—the wife of the murderer?” Alyce said. “What do I say to Cliff? ‘I'm so sorry for your loss, but my husband didn't do it'? Or should I say, ‘I'm sorry you think my husband boffed your wife, but he's innocent on that count, too'?

“How about, ‘We've both suffered losses: Your wife took all my son's money'? Which one would the etiquette books advise for this occasion?”

Sarcasm did not become Alyce. Josie could see her friend had spent a long night alone in the guest room. She heard her hurt and loss. Alyce believed in Jake's innocence, but he'd shattered her world. She'd been ostracized by her neighbors. She was separated from her husband, though they were shut in the same house. Alyce's bedroom door was closed to her husband for the first time.

“We need to go,” Josie said. “It's important. Funerals put a strain on people. Relatives fight. Friends say the unspeakable. Murderers show up to gloat over their victim. You won't be noticed if you sit in the back, especially if you wear that wig.”

“A wig disguises my hair,” Alyce said. “My shape remains the same.”

“Then we need to make you invisible,” Josie said. “We'll dress you as a nanny. Mrs. Palm will let you borrow a uniform.”

“You're joking,” Alyce said.

“Do I look like I'm laughing? If we want to help Jake, we need to be at Halley's memorial service.”

“Right now, I don't care if Jake is locked up for fifty years.”

“Yes, you do,” Josie said. “What kind of future does your son have if his father is in prison?”

“What kind of future does he have with no education money?”

“If we clear Jake's name, he'll collect on that keyman policy and your boy will go to Harvard,” Josie said. “Where's the funeral?”

“The Episcopal chapel on Manchester.”

“We'd better get moving. We need to be back here at eleven to get you dressed,” Josie said. “We have to go mystery-shopping, then stop by Cliff's office.”

As Josie threaded through the last of the rush hour traffic to Plaza Venetia, Alyce said, “I don't feel the same about shopping anymore. I'm a lot more cautious, even at the safe malls, like this one.”

“Good,” Josie said.

“I don't want to live my life on guard,” Alyce said. “I want to know there are safe places.”

“There are no safe places,” Josie said. “Just a false sense of security.”

“I don't want to live in your world,” Alyce said.

“You already do,” Josie said. “Your world never existed.”

Alyce clamped her mouth shut, biting back her protests. How could she argue with Josie? She knew it was true.

Josie pulled her Honda into the treelined entrance of Plaza Venetia. The shopping center looked more like a country club than a mall. The white columns could have graced a plantation house. The mall's sweeping white staircase was fit for the grandest entrance. Fountains splashed and planters created little oases where weary shoppers could rest.

“Can you really tell me this is a dangerous place?” Alyce said.

“I know it is,” Josie said. “I've read the police reports. This mall has seen everything from carjackings to child abductions. This is modern life, Alyce. You can't close your eyes and wish it away.”

“I wish I could make the last two weeks go away,” Alyce said.

Josie felt ashamed for lecturing her friend. Alyce had been given a far bigger dose of reality than Josie ever wanted to swallow. “You look tired,” she said. “Want to stop for coffee?”

“Nope, I want to nip into the restroom,” Alyce said.

They opened the door, heard water running, and found a blond sprite about four years old splashing in the sinks. She wore miniature jeans, tiny pink tennies, and a T-shirt with
TARA
in sparkly letters.

“Hi, Tara,” Josie said.

“Hi,” Tara said shyly, and planted her wet palm on the mirror.

“That's a pretty shirt,” Josie said.

“Mommy bought it,” Tara said.

“She's not here with you?” Josie said.

“She's shopping. Mommy said I could go to the bathroom by myself. I'm a big girl.”

Alyce and Josie exchanged looks.

“Yes, you are. Where's Mommy now, Tara?” Alyce said. “We'll take you back to her.”

“Shopping,” Tara repeated.

“Is she buying you more clothes?”

Tara shook her head.

“Is she buying your daddy clothes?”

“Daddy doesn't live with us,” Tara said. “He has a bitch in Clayton.”

Alyce choked. Josie figured Tara's mother was in need of serious retail therapy.

“Is Mommy shopping for shoes?” Josie said.

“Yes,” Tara said.

“Then let's go see her,” Josie said. She handed Tara a paper towel to dry her wet little paws. Tara took Alyce's and Josie's hands. They walked her to the shoe store halfway down the mall concourse. Tara was heart-breakingly small. Her little pink tennis shoes slapped the marble floor and her belly stuck out under her sparkly shirt.

I could pick her up under one arm and run for the exit, Josie thought. If she screamed, everyone would think I was a good mother removing a noisy child. From the grim set of Alyce's mouth, Josie suspected she was having similar thoughts.

There was only one woman in the shoe store, a trim blonde with a bitter, dissatisfied look. Watching her gave Josie a weird feeling, as if she'd seen little Tara suddenly age.

The blonde sat on a pink chair, drumming her fingers on the arm. She was surrounded by stacks of shoe boxes. Josie figured the salesclerk was in the back, digging out more stock.

“Mommy!” Tara shouted, and ran to her.

Josie reached in her purse and pulled out her Suttin Services ID card. She flashed it at Tara's mom. “We're Plaza Venetia security, Ma'am,” Josie lied. “Do you know it's against the rules to leave a child under twelve unattended in this mall?”

“I just sent her to the ladies' room,” Tara's mother said. She sounded put-upon. Her shoe-therapy session was interrupted.

“Prime place for child abductions, ma'am,” Josie said. “You've made it easier by putting your child's name on her shirt. She thinks anyone who knows her name must be a friend.”

“You have a sweet, trusting child,” Alyce said. “She came straight to us without asking questions. Doesn't she know better than to talk to strangers? We could be halfway down the highway by now.”

The blonde turned a shade paler, and held Tara's hand tightly.

“If we ever find Tara wandering alone again,” Josie said, “we'll have you arrested for child endangerment.”

“I didn't mean to—,” the blonde said.

“No parent means to have her child abducted,” Josie said. “Don't let her wander again.”

She saw a woman coming out of the stockroom door, loaded with shoe boxes. “We have to go. We know you're a good mother and it won't happen again.”

Alyce and Josie tried not to run out of the store. They didn't talk until they were on the escalator.

“Guess we did our good deed for the day,” Josie said.

“OK,” Alyce said. “I'm converted. There are no safe places. I'm just another version of that trusting mother. That little girl came right up to us and took our hands. We could have kidnapped her and no one would have noticed.”

They were distracted by playful shrieks and cries of, “Give me my cell phone.” Four teens were hanging out by the cookie store, laughing and chasing one another around the tables.

“Is that tall one a boy or a girl?” Alyce said, then looked horrified. “Ohmigod. I can't believe it. I sound like my mother, God rest her soul.”

“You?” Josie said. “I nearly said, ‘You can't tell these days.' Are mom phrases programmed into our brains?”

“I think all four of those kids are girls,” Alyce said. “But they have baggy clothes and short hair, so it's hard to tell. Maybe they should wear sparkly shirts like Tara's that say ‘BOY' and ‘GIRL.' And why aren't they in school?”

“I'm guessing they're playing hooky,” Josie said, “something I'm sure you never did.”

“I didn't,” Alyce said. “But I wish I had. I wish I'd done a lot of things it's too late to do now.”

“Really?” Josie said. “Mostly, I wish I could undo things.”

Alyce laughed for the first time that day. She took off the black scarf, shook out her fake red hair, and smiled. Suddenly, they were two homemakers on a shopping spree.

Mystery-shopping the Plaza Venetia Pretty Things was easy. The store was neat and clean. The stock was handsomely displayed. The salesclerk, Trisha, was as chic and slender as all the Pretty Things clerks. Unlike the surly Saber, she seemed to enjoy waiting on customers. She chatted with Josie while she rang up the same scarf ring that Saber had despised.

“I have one of these,” Trisha said. “I get a lot of use out of it.”

“Do you also have a Halley scarf?” Josie said. There was a brilliant blue display on the counter by the register.

“I wish,” Trisha said. “That's way out of my budget, even with my employee discount. We debated taking down the Halley display after she died, out of respect. But her signature scarves are selling better than ever. It sounds terrible, but dying was good publicity. Now everyone wants to own her.”

“Death as a good career move,” Josie said once she and Alyce were out in the corridor.

“Please,” Alyce said. “That isn't funny.”

“Sorry,” Josie said. “Maybe I should have bought a muzzle instead of a scarf ring. Let's swing by Cliff's office in Clayton. It's only ten fifteen.”

Cliff's office was in one of the tall mirrored glass towers that infested downtown St. Louis and nearby Clayton. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, businesses built impressive offices. Now they put up mirrored monoliths that reflected the city's past glories.

The vast black marble lobby was empty except for a dark reception desk and a monster two-story gray and white painting.

“What is that?” Josie said. “It looks like a burly aspirin.”

“That pays the rent,” Alyce said. “It's the ScratchLess allergy pill, the big seller at Cliff's company. ScratchLess produces the scratch.”

“No wonder they made a shrine for it,” Josie said. “I'd recognize those shades of gray anywhere. Guess who painted that masterpiece? No, you won't have to guess. The signature is two feet high.”

“Evelyn,” Alyce said.

“The portrait of the artist as a total sellout,” Josie said. “I thought Cliff didn't know his wife had an affair with Evelyn. What's he doing with art by his wife's lover in his office lobby?”

“Good question,” Alyce said. “Maybe Cliff wasn't blind to Halley's affair after all.”

“You certainly can't miss this,” Josie said. “Guess Halley was fooling herself when she thought her husband hadn't tumbled to her affair.”

“Either that or she didn't tell her good friend Linda everything,” Alyce said.

“Can I help you, ma'am?” the guard at the dark desk asked. He was a thin man with a hawk nose and a country accent.

“Yes,” Josie said. “We stopped by to see Mr. Cliff Hardwicke.”

“Mr. Hardwicke is off this week,” the guard said. “There's been a death in his family.”

“I'm sorry,” Josie said.