Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8) (11 page)

“Tell me more about you. Where did you and Jason meet?”

“Kindergarten,” Lacy said and proceeded to give the outline of their romance. She kept it sketchy. Unlike some people, she didn’t like to talk about herself.

“That is so sweet. Do you think you’ll get married?”

“Um,” Lacy said, and her palms started to sweat. Personal questions from strangers had that effect. “We’ll see. What about you? How did you and Dan meet?”

Marcia had no trouble displaying her life story. Lacy learned about how she and Dan met ten years ago when he was on a trip to scout cars. The dealership was tiny then, but he had big dreams.

“Love at first sight,” Marcia said. “At least for me. He needed some convincing. We broke up for a time, but when we got back together, we were married soon after.”

The story reminded her of what her grandmother had said about her parents. They had also broken up shortly before getting engaged. Did that sort of thing happen often?

“No kids?” Lacy said.

“We have two. And a nanny. Everyone should have a nanny. It gives you so much freedom. Is Riley going to have a nanny?”

“I don’t think so. Her husband is a pastor. It probably wouldn’t look good.”

“I miss the old days when everyone had domestic help and no one looked down on you for it,” Marcia said.

Lacy wasn’t sure what to say to that. She had a hard enough time convincing herself that she was now someone’s employer, and Suze could hardly be considered domestic help.

“I don’t know how to say this tactfully, so I’m going to jump right in. I noticed you had some trouble with knitting the other night.”

“I’m not crafty,” Lacy said.

“Everyone can be, if they try hard enough. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’m available, if you need more help. Celia’s good at knitting, but she’s not the most patient teacher. She taught Amelia and made her cry. It’s really easy, once you get the hang of it.”

When people said that to Lacy, it only made her feel more incompetent because it wasn’t easy for her. She let it go, not wanting to disagree with her new friend, if Marcia could be called such. Lacy couldn’t shake the feeling that Marcia viewed her as a rival of some sort.

When lunch was over, she brought up knitting again. Lacy declined the offer of a private tutorial.

“I have a meeting,” she said.

“With who?” Marcia asked.

Lacy didn’t want to tell her she was meeting with the coroner to discuss Bob Hoskins’ death. “Business,” she evaded.

“Oh. That’s what Dan says when he doesn’t want me to know what he’s doing,” Marcia said.

Lacy would bet that Dan was ready to gnaw off his own leg to get away from his jealously possessive wife, but maybe she was being unfair. If he had given Marcia reason to be suspicious, then maybe he had it coming.

She made her escape from Marcia, after repeated promises to call if she changed her mind about a remedial knitting class. When she stepped outside, she breathed deep, cleansing breaths. Not only did Marcia wear too much perfume, but her cloying nature made Lacy feel suffocated. After a quick glance at her phone, she put some speed in her step. She could not afford to be late and miss her meeting with the coroner. It had taken her days to get an appointment.

Her phone rang, disrupting the flow of her power walk. She had to come to a complete standstill to pull the phone out of her pocket again. “Hello,” she said as she started to walk again.

“Why are you panting?” Riley asked.

“Walking. Fast.”

“Are you in a mall somewhere?”

“On the street. Have an appointment.”

“Did you lose the ability to use pronouns?” Riley asked.

“What’s up?”

“I went through Mom’s things.”

Lacy stopped short and doubled over when a stitch of pain grabbed her side. “What?” To avoid being late, she kept moving forward, albeit slowly and still bent forward.

“I rifled Mom’s possessions.”

“Riley!”

“It’s not like she never did it to us,” Riley said.

“That’s a good point. What did you find?”

“Nothing. But she disappeared again. She goes out every day and stays gone for hours. And, get this, she takes a big straw hat and oversized sunglasses.”

“That’s weird,” Lacy agreed.

“Everything Mom does lately is weird. I think we need to follow her, do some surveillance.”

“What did you have in mind, Serpico?”

“What’s Serpico?” Riley asked.

“Some old cop movie with Al Pacino.”

“The references that you have to explain are always the best,” Riley said. “Anyway, tomorrow when she goes out for her mysterious rendezvous, we’ll follow her. We can take Tosh’s car.”

“You might have the baby before then.”

“Don’t give me false hope. I’m never having this baby, and having a project will be a good distraction.”

“How’s the knitting going?” Lacy asked.

“Too well. I’m almost done with my blanket. How’s yours?”

“I used one of the needles to dig a Tic-tac out of the gearshift in Grandma’s car, so at least I have that going for me,” Lacy said. “Marcia offered to give me remedial instruction.”

“You mean she offered to keep an eye on you so you don’t touch her husband?” Riley said.

“Yes, what’s up with that? I’m not the woman that other women usually see as a threat,” Lacy said.

“With me out of commission, someone had to assume the role. Forget about it; she’s nuts,” Riley said.

“How do you know? She seemed normal at the knitting club.”

“I know crazy women. Speaking of which, Mom’s home. Serpico out.”

She hung up as Lacy arrived at her appointment, an unassuming brick house now serving as a doctor’s office. His name hung on an inauspicious sign, “Dr. Potdar.” Their town was too small to have a dedicated coroner, so a doctor worked both jobs. When they needed a forensic pathologist, as in the case of a murder, they sent the body away to the capital.

The lobby was uncrowded. Lacy gave her name and sat down. Ten minutes later, her name was called. Unlike other doctor’s offices, a nurse didn’t come in first to take her vitals and talk. A few minutes after she was ushered to an empty room, the doctor opened the door, sat in front of her, and began removing her socks.

“What seems to be the problem?” he said. He was a middle-aged man, balding, with an accent she couldn’t place. She wondered what made him go into podiatry. More specifically, she wondered why anyone in his right mind would want to touch feet all day. Lacy hated feet. She could barely stand to look at her own feet, let alone a stranger’s. Curiously, she thought Jason had nice feet. Was that a sign that he was the one?

She withdrew her feet from his gentle touch and squirmed back into the sock that was dangling from the edge of her toes. There was no way a man who had touched thousands of other feet would touch hers. “Actually, I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

He frowned and glanced up. “What kind of questions?”

She had planned to ask a few targeted questions about Bob Hoskins’ death. Instead what came out was, “How can you stand to touch feet all day without throwing up?”

His frown intensified. “I think I know what’s going on here.”

“You do?” Lacy said.

“Yes, and you’re not the first patient who was nervous about having her feet touched. But this is my job. You’re going to have to trust me.” He held out his hand for her foot. She hadn’t withdrawn it all the way. It hovered awkwardly between them like a dog trying to choose between two masters. Finally the traitor foot gave way and extended in the doctor’s direction. He accepted it as a precious jewel, cradling it lovingly in his fingers as he removed her sock and began to probe.

Lacy fought her gag reflex. At first her mind wouldn’t let her get over the fact that someone was touching her feet. No one touched her feet. Ever. But slowly his tender ministrations began to overcome her mental anguish. Whatever he was doing felt amazing. In fact, she was sure nothing had ever felt so good. He touched pressure points on her feet and pain she didn’t know she had been carrying seemed to seep away.

After a long time, he slowly let go of one foot and picked up the other. Lacy didn’t protest. She couldn’t. She sat slumped and slack-jawed, so relaxed she was practically drooling.

By the time he was finished, she couldn’t remember her name, much less the questions she had planned to ask about Bob Hoskins.

“I’m amazed you haven’t come to be before now,” Dr. Potdar said.

“You are?” she said.

“You over pronate. It’s why you can’t run well.”

Did he have a crystal ball? “How do you know I don’t run well?”

“Your feet told me.”

She pictured her foot whispering secrets in his ear and had to suppress an inappropriately timed giggle. “What can I do about it?”

“I can give you an orthotic device,” he said.

“You want me to wear orthopedic shoes?” she said. It was like middle school all over again.

“Ideally, yes, but I’ve found that women your age are reluctant to wear them all the time. I can give you a device that fits inside your sneaker. You can wear it when you run.”

“And that will make me a good runner?”

“It will help some with your gait. The rest is up to God,” he said. 

“Wow,” she said. It wasn’t until he left the room that she remembered her original purpose in making the appointment. He was coming back to give her more information on the orthotic. She would ask him then.

While she waited, she stared at her feet. Who could have predicted it would feel good to have her feet touched? And who would have guessed there was something that could help her run? Maybe there were medical devices available to help her do other things. Maybe if she went to a hand specialist, he could give her something that would enable her to knit.

Dr. Potdar returned with the information for the orthotic device.

“May I ask you another question?” she said.

“Hmm,” he said, distracted as he sifted through pamphlets.

“What was Bob Hoskins’ time of death?”

He looked up, blinking. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m a stringer for the paper, and I’m writing an article about him. I’m also the person who found him and reported his death. So, you see, I have a vested interest.”

“According to lividity and the pooling in his abdomen, I would estimate the time to be between three and six PM.”

“Are you aware that he was left handed?”

“I assumed so. When I made my inspection, there was significant wear on his left fingers.”

“The control for the lift was on his right side. Does that seem odd to you?”

“No. The lift was controlled by one giant button that could either be pushed up or down. Not to disparage Mr. Hoskins’ intellectual capabilities, but the button was simple enough to be operated by a much lesser simian. One needn’t have used a dominate hand to make it work.”

“One final question, please. Was there any head trauma, were there any defensive wounds?”

“If I may be frank, Lacy?”

She nodded.

“After being crushed by so heavy a piece of machinery, there wasn’t enough left of the head to tell,” he said.

She smiled, not because poor Bob was horribly crushed beyond recognition, but because Dr. Potdar was the first person in the investigation to answer her questions honestly and kindly. And he had taught her that feet were for more than stuffing into pretty shoes. They could be valuable members of the body, if one knew how to use them.

“Thank you, Dr. Potdar,” she said with as much sincere warmth as she could muster.

“My pleasure,” he said. He handed her the stack of brochures and, with a courteous little bow, took his leave.

Lacy left the doctor’s office at a fast clip. Her feet had been hurting, and she hadn’t known. Was she so out of touch with her body? What else hurt without her knowledge, besides the dozens of dodgeball bruises and fence-falling scratches? She was so intently focused on trying to figure out what else might be wrong with her that she failed to notice the person in the car, the one quietly observing her every pain-free step.

Chapter 10

Lacy was hiding in the hedges when her phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Why are you whispering?” Jason asked.

“Because I’m in a holly bush.”

“Right, I forgot that rule where you have to whisper when you’re in a holly bush,” he said.

“I like how you skipped over the fact that I’m in a holly bush,” she said.

“At this point in our relationship, I would be surprised if you weren’t. But since you brought it up, why are you in a holly bush?”

“I’m waiting for my mom to leave so Riley and I can spy on her.”

“Because why?”

“She’s been disappearing and acting weird, even for her. And Bob Hoskins knew her from high school, and she won’t talk about it. I think they had a fling.” The weight of guilt pressed on her, and she decided to come clean about everything. “I saw her the night I found him. That was why I stopped. My mom was there, and I’ve been investigating the case for the paper to try to get to the bottom of it. Also Detective Arroyo wants me dead, and I let another man touch my feet.”

“You let someone touch your feet?”

“The coroner,” she said.

“I knew I should have had my coffee before I called you,” he said. She could picture him with his hand pressed over his eyes. “Was the coroner acting in the capacity of coroner when he touched your feet?”

“No, he had his doctor hat on.”

“Then we’re okay on that front. I’m still shocked, though.”

“Are you sitting down? I liked it,” she said.

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. About the other stuff, I can’t deal with it when I’m far away and unable to throttle you. I’m going to pretend I never heard it.”

“You should do that with a lot more things I say,” she said.

“I’m trying.”

“I have to go. The bird is leaving the nest. That’s code for my mom is leaving the house.”

“Surprisingly, I was able to crack that code. You’re forgetting I was class valedictorian. Don’t forget dodgeball tonight.”

Uh-oh. She had forgotten dodgeball. She made a mental note to remember. Whatever she and Riley ended up doing today, she needed to be done in time to make it to dodgeball. She shoved the phone back in her pocket and ran to the garage. Riley was waiting in the passenger seat of Tosh’s car.