High Heels Are Murder (32 page)

“How was your day, honey?” he whispered in her ear.

“A killer tried to kidnap me, but I chased him down and talked him out of jumping off the roof. He confessed to two murders. That’s all.”

“Are you serious?” Josh looked delighted.

“Absolutely,” she said.

“Josie, you’re a freaking movie. You’re better than a movie. You’re a star, lady. Shine on!”

He looked so proud of her. He ordered champagne. They split dessert, a fabulous white chocolate blackberry pudding. Then Josh gave her a thin bracelet-sized box wrapped in blue paper.

“What’s this?” she said.

“Open it and see,” he said. His eyes glowed in the candlelight.

She ripped off the paper. Inside was a plane ticket.

“I’m going places,” Josh said. “Come with me. Join me in New York next weekend. I’ll have finished my agent interviews by then. We can celebrate. You believed in me, Josie. You’re the only one who did. Be there for me.”

I am in a movie, Josie told herself. It’s an old plot: Girl meets guy, girl loses guy, girl spends a lonely decade without a guy, girl lives happily ever after.

She sighed as they clinked glasses. After ten hard years, she had it all. Some men were worth waiting for. She didn’t have to settle for sweet, dull Stan the Man Next Door. She could have love
and
excitement.

“Josie,” he said. “We’ve waited so long. Come home with me.”

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

He had a loft in an old city building. She saw only Josh, but she was aware of beautifully proportioned windows, hardwood floors, sleek black-and-silver furniture. In the bedroom, her dress slid away like an old regret. His Porthault sheets were softer than satin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “You’ve taken my words again. I’m a writer, but I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t talk,” Josie said, and pulled him to her.

The next morning, Josie woke up in Josh’s bed. He was in the kitchen whistling. Josie smiled and stretched luxuriantly.

“Is that coffee I smell?” she said.

Josh appeared in the doorway wearing a blue terry robe, his hair in wet spikes from the shower. He kissed her.

“Mmmm,” he said. “That was good.” Then they were in bed again and the coffee was forgotten.

Afterward Josie lay beside him, her head cradled in the crook of his arm. She felt loved and protected. Life would be perfect if she had a cup of coffee. Especially Josh’s coffee. It smelled even better than what he served at Has Beans. She sniffed the air. That wasn’t coffee.

“Josh, I know you’re hot, but something else is burning.”

“Omigod, the French toast.” He leaped out of bed and ran for the kitchen. She heard the blare of a smoke alarm, then a hiss as he chucked the pan in the sink.

He was back in the doorway with a cup of hot coffee for her.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Have a drink while I put the kitchen back together. You can watch me and laugh.”

“Sure. Do you have a robe?” she asked.

“In my closet,” he said. “But I’d rather see you naked.”

“Maybe in May. It’s a little cold for that in November.” She padded to the closet and rummaged for the robe. She found a red velvet one in the back. As she
pulled it out, a box fell off the shelf. She tried to catch it and missed. It tumbled to the floor. Out came a gallon Ziploc bag of whitish powder.

“Oh, Josh,” she said. A world of sorrow was in those two words.

Suddenly, it all made sense: Josh’s new clothes, the car, the trip to New York, even the extravagant sheets on their bed.

Josh heard her heartsick cry. “Josie, what is it? What’s wrong?” Then he saw the Ziploc bag.

“Josie, it’s only coke. I needed some money to get back on my feet. I’ll quit selling, I swear, as soon as I pay off my bills. Coke isn’t serious. It’s only recreational. Josie, wait. You can’t do this. I’ll give it up. I promise.”

But Josie knew her lover was addicted to another drug—easy money. He would never give it up. Even if she wanted to stay with him, Josie couldn’t. There was her daughter, and other daughters, too. Josie heard Amelia crying for the lost Celine, the “big kid” who was nice to her. Celine was only sixteen. She’d bought her death from someone like Josh.

Josie found her black bra and put it on, stuffed her pantyhose in her purse, and slid into her black dress. It looked dull and wrinkled in the bright morning. There was a stain on the hem.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” she said, as she searched for her shoes. “You don’t know how sorry I am.”

“What about New York?” he said.

“What about it?” She found one shoe by the bed, another by the chair.

“You said you’d go with me. You believe in me. I need you, Josie.”

Josie thought of Cheryl, Fiona and all the other women who needed things so badly they’d lost their souls.

“The trip’s off, Josh.” She slipped on her shoes and reached for her purse.

“Josie, you can’t,” he said. He was on his knees now, holding on to her hand, trying to make her stay.

Josie pulled herself free.

“I can,” she said. “Good-bye.”

*   *   *

There was no one home when Josie got back to her flat in Maplewood. Amelia was still at Emma’s house. Her mom must be at Jimmy’s. Josie was home alone.

I sure know how to pick men, she told herself. Not one, but two drug dealers. “
Josie, you’re a freaking movie
.” She mimicked Josh’s voice. “
You’re better than a movie. You’re a star, lady
.”

“And what shall we call this star vehicle?” she asked the room. “
The Two-Time Idiot? The Twice-Baked Fool
?” She fell to her knees weeping, rocking, holding herself because she could never trust another man to hold her.

When she cried herself out, Josie got up and dried her tears. She stripped off her dress and bra and threw them in the trash. The pantyhose followed. She kept the shoes.

Then she filled a bucket with hot water and squirted in a strong cleaner. She started scouring her house, stark naked.

She’d cleaned it a few days ago to get rid of the rat. Now she was scrubbing away another rat. She’d had another small-time drug dealer for a lover. What was she thinking? She’d seen all the signs. She just didn’t want to look at them.

Scrubbing felt good. The hot water ruined her nail polish, but she didn’t care. Her hands turned red and raw in the harsh water. She felt clean again.

The more she scrubbed, the more she thought. Gradually, her thoughts turned from Josh to another man and another failed relationship.

Why did Tom let his wife languish in jail?

He swore he loved Cheryl, that he did it to support her and the baby. He said he’d confess if she was convicted.

Josie didn’t believe him. Oh, she knew Tom wanted that DVD. She knew he’d killed twice for it. But he didn’t murder for Cheryl. He didn’t love his wife. There was someone else in his life. Someone he would kill for.

Who was she? How did Tom know Josie was seeing Zinnia the next morning? Who told him?

Not Zinnia. And Mrs. Mueller swore she didn’t say a word to Tom.

Who else had called her that night?

Fiona.

Then it all came clear.

Tom, who worked late nights at the office.

Tom, who couldn’t be seduced by Cheryl, even when she wore her sexiest Victoria’s Secret.

Tom, who never asked his wife why she sent Ben for late play dates at Fiona’s house.

Fiona had been so eager to confess everything to Josie and Alyce—everything she wanted them to hear. Everything that would make her good friend Cheryl look even guiltier.

Josie poured the soapy water down the sink, dried her hands, dressed and drove to Fiona’s house. It was still a model of suburban perfection, with an Indian corn wreath on the door. Josie knocked until the corn rustled.

No answer.

“Open up,” Josie shouted. “Open up, Fiona, unless you want to talk about your part-time job here on your front porch.”

The door opened. Fiona stood there in a dirty shirt and baggy pants. Her hair hung in long strands. Her nose and eyes were red. She had been weeping, but not for her good friend Cheryl.

“You told him, didn’t you?” Josie said.

“Who?” Fiona said.

“Don’t play games with me. How long have you been having an affair with Tom?”

Fiona whimpered.

“How long?” Josie shouted.

“Please, don’t wake the baby,” Fiona said. “I just got her down. Three months. Tom and I have been seeing each other three months. He found out about Cheryl’s gambling. She was driving him to bankruptcy. He was slowly taking their assets and putting them in his name only, canceling his credit cards, severing his credit from hers. There are things you can do, if you’re married to a gambling addict like Cheryl.”

“Why didn’t he insist she get help?”

“He—” Fiona burst out crying.

“He didn’t care, did he? He wanted rid of her.”

“Their marriage had been over for a long time,” Fiona said, her voice wobbly with tears.

“When Cheryl called and asked you to pick up her baby, you loved it,” Josie said. “You knew you’d have free time with Tom. He wasn’t working late on those nights. He’d rush over to your house, wouldn’t he?”

No answer from Fiona.

“I bet if I showed his picture to your neighbors they’d recognize him,” Josie asked.

“All right, yes. My husband works until eight or nine every night. He’s at work now, on Sunday. He’s always at the office. When Cheryl would call and say she needed me to pick up Ben, I knew she wasn’t at a meeting. She was in the casino. I could hear the slots in the background. I’d call Tom and he’d drop everything and come over. It wasn’t just sex, although we had plenty of that. I’d fix him dinner. He’d give the kids horsie rides on his back. He’s a terrific father. We were meant to be a family. Cheryl never understood what a good man she had.”

“So why didn’t you divorce? Cheryl would have let Tom go. She only cared about her slot machines.”

“Tom had to have money to take care of us,” Fiona said. “He needed his house. He had to have sole custody of Ben. Cheryl’s mother would fight us if we wanted to keep Ben. Tom thought he could arrange it. It would take a little time, but he’d be free.”

“To marry you,” Josie said.

Fiona didn’t answer. She was crying again.

“I could see why you love Ben,” Josie said. “He’s a sweet child.”

“He gets along so well with my children.” My children. Not our children. “He’s like their brother. He practically lived here.”

“It must have seemed like fate the night Tom walked into Mel’s house and found Cheryl passed out on the couch,” Josie said. “All he had to do was kill Mel and she’d take the blame.”

“We thought so,” Fiona said. “But he had to find that DVD. If my husband got his hands on it, I wouldn’t
get anything. No money, no children. Tom would have succeeded if that crazy Mrs. Mueller hadn’t insisted Cheryl was innocent. She ruined everything.”

Josie looked at the weeping, bedraggled woman. This was the femme fatale who wrecked two marriages and nearly sent an innocent woman to prison? “You are really something. You betrayed your husband and your best friend.”

“All I wanted was a little happiness,” Fiona sobbed. “I almost had it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“That miserable buzzard,” Jane said. Josie’s mother stood in the doorway, trembling with anger. Those were the strongest words Josie had ever heard her say.

“Who?” Josie put down her kitchen sponge. She’d been scrubbing the greasy furred dust at the bottom of the refrigerator. She’d come back from Fiona’s and started frantically cleaning her house again, trying to wipe away all memory of Josh. It was working. Sometimes she didn’t think about him for thirty or forty seconds.

“Mrs. Mueller double-crossed us,” Jane said. “After all we did for that woman.”

“What did she do, Mom?” Josie said.

“She’s stopped payment on your check,” Jane said. “She says she can’t afford it now that Tom’s in jail and she has to support Cheryl and her grandson. She’s not going to make me Maplewood chair of the Flower Guild. The Altar Society is out, too.”

“But, Mom, I saved her daughter. I did everything she asked.”

“At the expense of her son-in-law,” Jane said. “That’s what Mrs. Mueller says. You won’t believe how things have turned around, Josie. Cheryl is standing by her husband. She’s thrilled that Tom killed Mel. She considers it the ultimate act of love. She’s angry at you for exposing her husband.”

“But I saved her from prison!” Josie said. “Her husband was going to run off with her best friend and take her baby.”

“Cheryl doesn’t believe a word of that. Mrs. Mueller
says you ruined her family. Her daughter and grandchild have lost their breadwinner. Cheryl has to go to work. She’ll have a hard time finding a good job. She’s thirty-one years old, she’s never worked outside the home and she has a small child. She also has to find time to attend her Gamblers Anonymous meetings.”

“She could be a mystery shopper, Mom,” Josie said.

Jane took a deep breath and said, “Josie, I’m sorry I made you apologize to Mrs. Mueller when you put that flaming dog doo on her doorstep. I wish you’d do it again.”

Josie laughed. “GBH, Mom,” she said.

“I mean it,” her mother said.

“I know you do,” Josie said. As she hugged her mother, her outrage against Mrs. Mueller grew. Deep down, she’d never expected Mrs. Mueller to pay her. But the deal with her mother was sacred. Josie was not going to let Jane be cheated out of those committees. She’d lost too much in her life.

“I’ll have to talk with her,” Josie said. She threw her sponge down and wiped her hands. She was through cleaning up her life. It was time to go to war.

Josie knocked on Mrs. Mueller’s door. The old woman opened it just enough to see who it was. Then she tried to slam it shut.

“Oh, no,” Josie said, and pushed her way inside.

“I don’t have time to see you,” Mrs. M said. “I’m too busy coping with the wreckage of my family, thanks to you. I can’t help your mother.”

“You’re not weaseling out of our agreement,” Josie said. “Your son-in-law was going to let Cheryl rot in jail. He wanted to marry Fiona and take your grandson.”