Lethal Lasagna (12 page)

I watched as my daughter Megan crawled out of the car. Her husband, Greg, stepped from the driver’s side. “It’s the kids. They must have gotten a new car.” I smiled at Brandon and then wondered what Megan was going to think about him staying with me.

Reminding myself that I was the parent, and they were the children, I smiled sweetly and said. “Let’s go get a closer look.”

“I’m right behind you.” Brandon said, as he pushed his chair back and gulped the last of his coffee down.

The evening was cooling off; the scent of honeysuckle tickled my nose as I made my way toward the new car and my children. “What have you got here?” I asked.

“My dream car, a classic 1968.” Greg grinned. He opened his door wide. “Hop in.”

I leaned forward and stared inside. A new car scented air freshener hung from the rearview mirror. Not a speck of dust showed on the shiny dash and steering wheel. “Very nice.” I stood and found Megan eyeing Brandon like he’d grown horns and carried a pitchfork.

“How about we go for a ride?” Greg had a rag in his hand and wiped at non-existent dirt on the hood. He seemed unaware of Megan’s disapproving gaze.

“Brandon, I’d like for you to meet my daughter, Megan, and her husband, Greg.”

Greg moved around the car and shook Brandon’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Brandon. How about a drive around the block?” He opened the back door to the car.

“Greg, can’t that wait a minute?” Megan studied Brandon with blue eyes so much like mine that I smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mr…?”

Brandon shook her hand. “Just call me, Brandon.”

Poor Greg looked so bewildered I took pity on him. “I think a drive is a great idea.” I slipped by him and slid inside the car.

A smile lit up my son-in-law’s face. “Great.” He opened the front seat passenger door for Megan; as soon as she was inside he hurried around the car.

Brandon slipped in the back seat with me. A smile touched his lips, and he winked. Together we put our seatbelts on. Our hands touched briefly. A warm sensation traveled up my arm, and I returned his smile.

“Just listen to that motor purr.” Greg smiled in the rearview mirror. “Isn’t she great?”

Megan sighed. “Sorry about this, guys. He has been like this all afternoon.”

“It sounds smooth.” Brandon agreed. He reached across the car and took one of my hands in his.

“She’s wonderful.” I agreed. “What are you two doing tonight?” I asked as I tried to ignore the warm fingers clasped in mine and the thumb that was gently brushing the back of my hand.

Megan looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. “You haven’t listened to your messages today, have you?”

“I’m afraid not.” I confessed.

Greg pulled back into the driveway. “Well, we’d thought about spending the evening with you,” he looked into the rear view mirror at them, “but, if you are busy, we’ll come another time.”

“Not at all. Come on inside. I have some things I need to tell you.” I opened the car door and pulled my hand from Brandon’s. I missed the warmth and roughness of his palm immediately.

“Look at this motor.” Greg said to Brandon. The two men had their heads under the hood within moments.

Megan met me at the front of the car, and we walked to the back door together. She looked over her shoulder and whispered, “Who is Brandon?”

I murmured back. “My creative writing teacher.” He was more than that, but I didn’t want to whisper about it right here and right now. I’d tell Megan later.

We went into the kitchen. Megan sat down at the table while I pulled a Sara Lee cherry pie from the freezer. I turned on the oven to pre-heat and grabbed a metal pie plate from the lower cabinet.

Greg and Brandon entered the kitchen.

“What’s this?” Megan asked. She held the notepad up that Brandon had been writing on earlier for everyone to see.

Before either of us could answer, Greg said. “It looks like a story web. Are you two working on a book together?”

Brandon took the notebook. “Not exactly.”

“We were brainstorming.” I said proud of myself for not lying but managing to avoid the truth at the same time.

Megan turned her best schoolteacher gaze on me. “What exactly were you brainstorming?”

So much for half the truth.

“If you must know,” I put the pan in the oven and shut the door. “We were working on Mitzi’s murder.” I read the instructions on the box and then turned the timer.

The room had grown very quiet. I turned to find my daughter staring at me. Her look had changed from determination to concern. “Mom, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Stubborn should be my middle name. “Good idea or not, I’m doing it.” I folded my arms and leaned against the hot stove. Then, I quickly moved to rest my hip against the counter.

A smile tugged at Brandon’s lips. The man dared to laugh at me! How was it, he knew what I’d done? Megan and Greg seemed oblivious to the fact that I’d just toasted my own buns. I rubbed the warm spot.

Megan sighed. “Okay, what have you found out so far?”

I turned to get two more cups down from the top cabinet. “Not much, really. A woman from the Rose Hat Club was jealous of Mitzi. But I don’t know if that’s enough to murder someone. Two people had words with her, again I don’t think that’s enough to kill and three members of Brandon’s class are cozy mystery writers.”

When I turned back around Megan and Greg were looking at me like I had lipstick on my teeth or something. Their heads swung between Brandon and me.

Finally Greg asked. “What does three cozy mystery writers have to do with this?”

Brandon laughed. “Here, let me have a shot at it, Claire. We found a short story in Mitzi’s apartment. She didn’t write it. I know this because the story was a cozy mystery. Mitzi wrote young adult stories.”

“Oh, well, that cleared it up nicely.” Megan’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She turned to Greg. “Are you getting this?”

I handed them both a cup of coffee. Greg pushed his away before answering. Drat! I’d forgotten he wasn’t a coffee drinker. “Greg what can I get you to drink?”

“Ice tea?”

I nodded and he turned to answer his wife. “They think maybe one of the cozy mystery students might have wanted Mitzi dead. But, if so, why?”

“The final for my class is a short story. The person with the highest score gets his or her work published in the campus magazine.” Brandon laid the writing pad down and leaned back in his seat.

Megan’s head was bent over the notebook again. “Okay, that accounts for six of these names. Who did you leave out?”

I took Greg’s coffee to the counter and pulled down a glass. “That would be Sadie; she’s the one that told me about the other three people.” After filling the glass with ice and tea, I carried it to Greg. “I’m wondering if she’s trying to cover something up by accusing them.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and gulped the cold drink.

How could I have forgotten he wasn’t a coffee drinker? “You’re welcome.”

“So, really you don’t have any more than the police do. Do you?” Megan asked.

“Nope.”

A smile touched her lips and eyes. “Good. How about a game of Monopoly?”

Brandon looked at me and quirked an eyebrow. I knew he was wondering if Megan always switched gears in mid-sentence. I nodded, and he sighed.

“Sure. I’ll get the game.” I kept the board games in a closet at the end of the hallway. As I pulled it off the top shelf, I wondered if Mitzi’s death could have had anything to do with money.

I leaned against the wall. Who would have inherited Mitzi’s money? Her son, Jake. He wasn’t anywhere near here when Mitzi had died. Plus, the boy loved his mother very much. I couldn’t see him killing her.

Maybe money didn’t have anything to do with it. What other reasons did a person have to kill? Jealousy? That would take me back to Darlene. Greed? That could lead to one of the three students.

Laughter came from the kitchen. I shook my head and decided to let the subject of Mitzi and murder drop for the time being. My family was waiting to play games.

As I carried the game back to the kitchen, I was surprised to hear Megan say. “I’m glad you’re staying here. I worry about her snooping around in Mitzi’s death.”

I stopped short of the entryway and listened. “It’s my pleasure. I enjoy spending time with your mother.” Brandon said.

“I’m glad. Mom’s been alone for too long.”

To hear Megan, you’d think I was some lonely heart looking for companionship. It was time to nip this conversation in the bud. I continued through the door. “Here it is. I get to be the dog.”

Greg yelped. “I want the car.”

Megan laughed. “Big surprise there.”

I slid the game onto the table. Megan pulled off the lid and started distributing money. “I guess this makes me the banker.”

Brandon laughed. “I suppose so, but only if I get to use the ship as my game piece.” He pulled the box to himself. “Hey, where’s my ship?”

“Sorry ole fella. I lost it a long time ago.” Megan handed him the top hat. “Here, this is more your style anyway.”

I laughed at the expression on Brandon’s face. He looked like a little boy who’d just had all the red licked off his sucker.

****

The evening with the kids and Brandon quickly drew to an end. Brandon and Greg proceeded outside while Megan and I cleared away the game and dirty dessert plates.

“You know, Mom, I think your professor is interested in more than just your storytelling abilities.” She set the coffee mugs beside me on the counter, a sweet smile pasted in place as if she’d made the statement in innocence.

Talking to one’s child about a man, even if she was thirty years old, seemed odd to me. In all honesty, I was downright uncomfortable with the subject. “We’re just friends, Megan.”

She kissed me on the cheek and chuckled as she walked away. “Maybe you should tell him that.” The door slammed behind her as she made a speedy exit.

Maybe I should. Especially since he’d taken to holding my hand every so often.

“What are you thinking about? And please don’t tell me about Mitzi and her murderer.” Brandon put the lid on the game and smiled at me.

“You and I need to have a talk.” Might as well get this over with as soon as possible. Maybe it would be like pulling a tooth; if I jerked fast it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Sure. What’s up?”

What
’
s up? What are we? Teenagers? I took a deep breath and leaned against the counter. “I’m not ready for the whole boyfriend, girlfriend relationship thing.”

His face never changed. He walked over to me and placed the Monopoly game on the counter. “Is that all?”

Why did his voice have to come out all husky like that? I opened my mouth to answer and nothing came out. After several long moments, I nodded.

“Okay.” He leaned in and lightly kissed my parted lips. “Let me know when you are.” The words whispered across my mouth.

A sigh escaped me and then I watched him walk out of the kitchen.

Not ready, my grandmother
’
s old cat.

TITLE

The next morning I stumbled out of bed and moseyed into the shower. My dreams were filled with riding on the back of a motorcycle behind a man wearing a small silver top hat. Warm water helped to wash away the sleepiness.

I dressed in a lightweight pink pantsuit with yellow and blue flowers down the legs. As I opened the door to my room, I silently prayed. Lord, please don’t let us feel strange around each other this morning.

The house was silent. No smells of bacon or coffee greeted me as I headed down the hallway. It was already after eight so where was Brandon?

Entering the kitchen, my gaze moved to the table. A beautiful bouquet of yellow roses decorated the center of it. I moved further into the room. An envelope rested against the glass vase. I picked it up and pulled out the card. I’m glad we are friends. Love Brandon.

My gaze moved to the large window. His pickup was absent. I bent over the flowers and inhaled. The sweet smell of roses tickled my nose.

Just to make sure he had left, I walked to the front porch. “Brandon?” No answer. His bed was made. A book lay on the end table, I picked it up. It surprised me to see that it was a Zane Grey western. I’m not sure why but I hadn’t expected him to be a western reader. Kind of took away from the motorcycle man I’d grown to think of him as.

Walking back to the kitchen, I made a pot of coffee and then picked up the cordless phone and called Gloria. Her machine answered. “It’s just me. Call me when you get a chance. Maybe we can do lunch or something.” I hung up and laid the phone on the table.

The smell of fresh, brewed coffee filled my kitchen. I put two slices of bread into the toaster, grabbed butter and jam from the fridge, put them on the table and then poured a cup of coffee. Why was it so important to Darlene to know she was the youngest of the Mad Hatters? I asked myself.

Then, I shook my head. No, today I’m not going to think of Darlene or the Mad Hatters.

As I waited for the bread to pop into toast, I looked about. The kitchen floor needed to be swept and mopped. After breakfast, I’d get on that. Plus throw in a load of laundry. Were the young people, Karen and Jack, really so upset with Mitzi that they would stalk and kill her?

No, I’m not going to think about that. I admonished myself again. But, if they had, why keep coming back to class after she was dead? Maybe to throw the police off their scent. “Not like the police aren’t checking into them anyway.” I grumbled to myself.

The grinding of metal sounded from the toaster as the bread popped up. For the next several minutes I busied myself eating and thinking. Today I was going to take it easy. Hang around the house and get some light housework done. I’m not going to think about Mitzi or murder today. I told myself.

I started by running the dishwasher. I swept and mopped the kitchen floor, tossed a load of whites into the washer, and then ran the vacuum though the house. I’d thought of Sadie as a suspect, but what was her motive? I fought the urge to continue thinking about Mitzi and all the people who might have wanted her dead.

Within an hour, I was ready to go on my walk with Sprocket. He pulled and tugged as we ambled down the road and around the block. For the first time in a while we took our time. I let him smell every bush and flower along the way while I enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air.

I pushed all thoughts of Mitzi from my mind. Tonight I’d ask more questions at the writing class but for today, I wanted to give my brain a rest. She’d been on my mind so much lately, I’d almost forgotten what it was like not to think about the murder. There I go again. Push the thoughts away, Claire. The self-talk helped and so did my dog.

Sprocket picked up the scent of a cat and away we went. He pulled me down the sidewalk toward home. The black and white kitty he smelled realized he was in pursuit and the race was on.

My big dog barked and pulled. I hung on and prayed he wouldn’t get away from me. Being jerked down the sidewalk wasn’t my idea of good-for-me exercise.

The cat went up a tree and Sprocket finally stopped. Winded I panted beside the big dog. His tongue hung out and he gave me a doggie grin.

We’d stopped in front of Sara’s house. The cat hissed from his perch above us and Sprocket barked.

I stared up at the frightened animal. “Come on, Sprocket. You’ve scared the poor kitty enough for one day.” I pulled on his leash, still trying to get my breath.

“Looks like he gave you a run for your money,” Sara said as she closed her front door.

I tried to smile. “That’s one of the bad things about having such a big dog. When they take it into their heads to chase a poor defenseless cat, you don’t have much choice but to follow.”

She laughed. “Hey, are you real busy?”

“Nope, I’m taking it easy today. My house is pretty straight and now that I’ve walked the dog, I’m going to spend the rest of the day reading and lounging around.” I pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes.

Disappointment filled her voice. “Oh, okay.”

As much as I hated giving up my time of liberation, I asked. “Is there something I can do for you?” Please let it be something easy, so I can go back to my stress free day. It was a selfish prayer, but if you don’t tell the Lord what you want, you’ll never get it. The thought that I might not get it anyway struck me as comical.

“I’m heading down to the flea market this morning and wondered if you’d like to go. Mom is working, and I thought that it might be nice to get to know you better. But, since you already have plans, I guess I’ll go alone.” Sara’s voice held a hint of sadness. She looked up at the hissing cat, avoiding my gaze.

I studied Sprocket. It didn’t take a genius to know I was being played. But, if the girl was that lonesome for company, maybe I should go with her.

“If you will give me a couple of minutes to put Sprocket away and grab my pocketbook, I’ll go.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on you.”

“I’m sure. It’ll be fun to go to the flea market. I haven’t been in a while. Be back in a flash.” I pulled the shaggy dog to the yard and shut the gate. The screen door slammed as I hurried into the house.

I’m not sure why I did it but I scribbled a note for Brandon as to where I was going, propped it against the flower vase on the table, and then grabbed my purse.

Sara backed the old red pickup out of her garage. It spit out a cloud of smoke. She motioned for me to get in. Oh my stars! Death by rust and smog.

I jerked hard on the passenger’s door. It resisted. I yanked with all my might and it swung open. “Sara, would you rather take my car?” I asked pulling myself into the cracked vinyl seat.

“Oh no, I want to take the truck in case I find something really big that I can’t live without.” She waited until I put on my seatbelt and then put the pickup into reverse.

The vehicle sputtered and jerked down the road. Thankfully, the market wasn’t that far from the house. Whiplash would soon be setting in if we had much further to go. A neck brace would clash with my pink tops, I felt sure of it.

We came to a jerky stop in front of the old building that housed the flea market. I sighed with relief.

“Sorry about that. The old gal doesn’t drive as smooth as she once did.” Sara slipped out of the pickup and came around to my side. She pulled open the door and smiled.

I unbuckled my rusty seatbelt. “Why don’t you trade it in?”

We started toward the building. “It was… my dad’s, and I just can’t give it up. Stupid I know, but I grew up with that pickup.”

Sara wore a pair of jeans and a purple tee shirt today. White tennis shoes covered her large feet. I was amazed to see that she also had in a pair of amethyst earrings. She looked almost normal. Everyone knows that white tennis shoes are a fashion faux pas during the winter months. I pushed the thought aside and said. “That’s not silly at all. I have my mother’s brooch from when she was a teenager. We all want things of our loved ones to keep them in our memories.”

“Thanks for understanding.” She held the door open for me.

The aroma of onions, hot dogs, frying meat, and fresh baked bread filled the warehouse. Several food vendors had set up shop and created small café style eating spaces.

Colorful booths lined the walls and filled the center of the building. I had no idea it had expanded so much in my absence. The gleam in Sara’s eyes told me she was going to enjoy this almost as much as I. She grabbed a cardboard box and proceeded down the aisle against the wall.

Okay, maybe Sara was a little more into this than me. I watched her plow right past the brightly colored display of scarves and hats. What was the hurry?

I walked to the scarves and selected a light lavender one. It would go great with a dark purple pantsuit or dress. The silk material ran through my fingers.

From the corner of my eye, I detected a sudden movement. I turned my head for a better view and saw Martha Lewis duck down the next row of booths. Had she been spying on me? And if so, why? *Note to self: Go back and put Martha Lewis on the list of suspects*

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

Shocked at the sudden voice, I swirled around to find that Olivia stood behind me. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail. She wore a short skirt and a green blouse that matched her eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Teenagers have no sense of subtlety. “I’m here having a good time. What about you?”

She rubbed the silky lavender fabric between her fingers. “I’m here to help raise money for our youth group. We’re selling hot dogs over there.” Her finger pointed to one of the food stands. “I like this scarf. Are you going to buy it?”

“I think so.”

Olivia released the scarf, and she picked up a green hat. “How does this look on me?” She slapped it down over her hair.

“Looks great.” The color brought out the green in her eyes.

I paid the woman for the scarf and moved to the next booth. Old and new books lined several bookshelves. Olivia followed.

“She has the series I’m reading.”

I smiled at Ms. Cooper, the English teacher from the high school, while Olivia held up a book for me to see. A mouse decorated the cover. It held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other.

“What’s it about?” From the corner of my eye, I noticed Ms. Cooper’s head bent over the book she was reading when we arrived.

“Well, it’s a series about animals that live in an Abbey and other animals that try to take it away from them. I guess you’d call it an adventure. I love the moles and the way they talk. Oh! And then there are the rabbits, they are so funny.” Olivia took a breath. Her eyes had grown into round disks in her face.

“Wow, they sound exciting.” I picked up one of the other books in the series. An otter with an earring graced its face. I flipped the book over to read the back cover.

Olivia practically squealed. “Oh, they are. You should try one.”

A picture of the author met my gaze. So much for reading about the book. “Okay, I’ll take this one.”

“No, start with this one. It’s the first.” Olivia handed me the book with the little mouse.

“Have you read this one?” I asked, showing her the Otter.

She sighed. “Not yet. But I will someday.”

“Then I’ll get them both. But you have to read this one while I read the other. How does that sound?” I took both books to the schoolteacher.

“That’s great! Thanks, Mrs. Parker.” Olivia frowned.

I glanced in the direction she was looking. A young man by the food booth waved for her to come to him. I handed her the book. “Go on. It looks like you’re needed. I’ll be by in a little bit for one of those hot dogs.”

She smiled her thanks and took off.

“That was a nice thing you just did,” Ms. Cooper said as she took my money. “Is there another book you’d like to have? It’s on me.” A frown marred her features as she stared over large round glasses that made her look like an owl.

I accepted my change. “That’s not necessary. I’m curious as to what the kids are reading.”

Her grey hair was pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head. Big brown eyes studied me. “Aren’t you the lady who is snooping into the murder of Mitzi Douglas?”

I wondered how she knew. “What makes you think that?” I asked, picking up a historical romance and turning it over in my hand.

“I recognized your name, and I’m dating Detective Howard. He’s concerned you’re going to get into trouble poking around in his case.”

My attention had been captured. I watched her as she picked up the book she’d been reading and sat back down. The thought that Detective Howard was concerned about me, took me by surprise. “Please, call me Claire.”

“Thanks. Having any luck with your snooping?” She asked, the smile had left her face, and now she just seemed angry.

I sighed. “No. Does your boyfriend still suspect me?”

“Honestly, he hasn’t said.” Ms. Cooper bent her head back to her book and dismissed me as if I were one of her irritating students.

It suddenly dawned on me that she might be jealous that he’d mentioned my name in relationship with his case. I finished reading the back of the book and picked up a second one by the same author, then cleared my throat.

She looked up. “Can I help you with something else?”

“Please, I’d like to get these two books, too.” I handed them to her. While she figured the total I continued. “Ms. Cooper, Mitzi was my best friend. I didn’t kill her, and I just want to know who did. My boyfriend and I just can’t seem to come up with anyone who disliked her enough to kill her.” Maybe saying I had a boyfriend would open her up to me.

I told myself it wasn’t a lie. Brandon is a boy, and he is my friend. Put them together and you get boyfriend. Okay, that’s a stretch.

A smile crossed her face. “Please call me, Laura.” She handed the books back to me; dimples filled her cheeks once more. “That’s what Marvin is having trouble with, too. Everyone seems to have liked her. If you ask me, I bet it was either a family member or a very close friend,” she whispered.

She sounded just like Detective Howard. “Oh there are at least three people who didn’t like her, but I don’t think any of them killed her,” I answered. “And, unfortunately that’s why the police are looking at me, her best friend.” I reminded her.