Marriage Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story (A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery) (28 page)

Oh, hell.

“I’m not supposed to talk to anyone about this,” Nancy said, as if reading my mind. “But you need to have all the information if you’re going to solve this case. So, here goes.

“Bob told me about the big fight he and Tiffani had earlier in the day. He said he felt humiliated, and spent a lot of what time wandering around Nantucket, trying to figure out what to do. And he was really angry with Tiffani. He went into one of the restaurants on Main Street and had some dinner and a few beers. Unfortunately, he can’t remember which one, but I’m sure his lawyer can check it out.”

“But why did Bob come back to the Grey Gull Inn?” I asked Nancy. “Especially after Tiffani had told him to leave. Did he think he could get her to change her mind?”

Which was a stupid idea.

I didn’t really say that, of course.

“Bob told me that he went back to the inn because he’d finally decided that the affair with Tiffani was over,” Nancy said. “He said he did a lot of thinking and decided that he had made a terrible mistake getting involved with her.”

It seemed apparent to me that Tiffani had come to that conclusion first, but I didn’t share my opinion with Nancy.

“Bob told me he realized that he didn’t want to throw our marriage away, that he wanted to come home and try to work things out with me. And ask me to forgive him.”

She paused. “I’m not sure if I want to do that. But at least Bob’s realized how wrong he was to cheat on me. And leave me flat for that…. “Well, I guess I might have contributed to our marital problems, too.”

I didn’t want to risk Nancy veering off the subject into a dissection of her marital problems, so I interrupted her. (Something I never do.)

“But what happened when Bob got to the inn?” I asked.
Get to the point, already.

“Bob says when he was close to the main entrance of the inn, he saw a figure running out the front door. It was definitely a man. The man rushed past Bob, and almost knocked him over. It was dark, of course, so Bob didn’t see his face too clearly. But what he does remember is that the man was wearing a Los Angeles Angels baseball cap. He said that stuck in his mind, because it’s not a common sight here on the East Coast.”

She took a deep breath. “Bob said he walked into the inn lobby and saw a crumpled figure at the bottom of the stairs. He realized it was Tiffani. And then he started crying.”

“Did he say he saw me?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“He said he saw someone peering over the bannister. I don’t think he recognized you. He was too upset.

“So you see, Carol,” Nancy finished, “it’s very simple. The man in the baseball cap is responsible for Tiffani’s death, not Bob.

“All you have to do it figure out who it is, find him and give his name to the police. Then Bob will be free.”

Chapter 34

Some people have Restless Leg Syndrome.

I have Restless Mouth Syndrome.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Nancy,” I said. “There’s no way I can do that.”

Just between you and me, a teeny part of me was thrilled that Nancy had such great confidence in my sleuthing ability. But my common sense won out over my vanity. (I do have some common sense, although Jim may deny it.)

I raised my hand before Nancy had a chance to argue with me. “In the first place, the other two times I accidentally solved a crime, it was here in Fairport. I reminded you about that when you first brought this nutty idea up at Mary Alice’s the other day. I know this town, and I have a pretty decent relationship with the local police, particularly since one of them is about to marry my daughter.”

“But…”

“Stop. Let me talk,” I said. “If there’s a first place, there has to be a second place. Remember, the nuns always taught us that in school. So, in the second place, I am the only witness to Bob’s being present at the scene of Tiffani’s death. And if this goes to trial, I’m going to have to testify. Not that I’m looking forward to that. In fact, I’m dreading it.”

“But don’t you see, Carol? That’s another reason why you have to figure this mess out. To save yourself from all the emotional upset of testifying at the trial of a man who is the husband of your very best friend. Think of how guilty you’ll feel if the case goes to trial, when you realize you could have saved him. All you have to do is start nosing around, asking questions. The way you’ve done before. And you’re so good at it!” I didn’t say anything. I hoped my unusual silence would show her that she was asking the impossible from me. But it didn’t.

“You and I have been very best friends since we were kids, Carol,” Nancy went on. “I know you want to see me happy. But I won’t be happy unless Bob and I have a chance to save our marriage. Carol, you can’t deny us our last chance at happiness.”

Sheesh, this was starting to sound like dialogue from a soap opera. Not that I have any first-hand knowledge of that stuff, you understand. I’m a
Masterpiece Theater/Great Performances
kind of woman.

Besides, I didn’t buy Bob’s story for a minute. Seeing a mysterious man running out of the Grey Gull Inn at the crucial time sounded fishy to me. And wearing an Angels baseball cap, no less. (I had to admit, that was a creative touch.) I was betting he just made it up, on the spur of the moment, to convince Nancy of his innocence. So she’d strong-arm me into helping him.

Rats.

Nancy began shredding still another piece of The Paperback Cafe’s delicious pineapple bread. I snatched this one from her hand before it was completely inedible. And before the crumbs dropped all over my floor again.

I couldn’t save Bob, but at least I could rescue an innocent piece of bread.

“Stop it, Nancy,” I ordered, moving the bag closer to me. “Somebody may actually want to eat what you brought. Like me, for instance.”

“You know how I get when I’m nervous,” Nancy snapped back. “I can’t stay still. And I’m certainly nervous now. Thinking of my poor husband, in jail and suffering because of something he didn’t do.”

She glared at me.

“As a matter of fact, Bob is suspected of something he didn’t do just the way Jim was suspected of murdering his retirement coach a while ago. You got all of us involved in proving his innocence, just in case you’ve conveniently forgotten that part. And I was the most helpful of all, with my real estate connections. I’m the one who found the coach’s wife. If weren’t for me, Jim’d be rotting in jail right now.”

My very best friend glared at me and added the coup de grace. “It’s payback time, Carol. I helped you, and now you’ve got to help me.”

“Jim’ll be furious with me if I get more involved,” I protested. “And Mark, my gosh, I can’t believe how angry he’d be if he found out I was snooping again. What if he calls off the wedding to Jenny because of me?”

Nancy dismissed these misgivings with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand.

“That’s ridiculous, Carol. As far as Jim is concerned, well, you’ve handled him for almost forty years. I’m sure you’ll do it this time, too. And if we’re really clever about this, he may not even find out what we’re up to.

“And Mark is not going to call off the wedding. He and Jenny are absolutely gaga about each other. Anybody with eyes can see that. Besides, he’s not really involved in this case, since it didn’t happen in his jurisdiction. Although he does know that Nantucket detective, Cynthia Sweet.”

My eyes widened at this new piece of information. “How the heck do you know that?”

“Why, before I left for the Cape, I called Mark. I had no idea how one goes about getting a pass to visit someone in jail. I haven’t had the experience you have.”

Ouch. That hurts.

“Mark was really helpful. And, in the course of our conversation, he happened to let it slip that he knew Detective Sweet. Apparently, she was one of his instructors at the police academy. But he hadn’t seen her for a long time.”

“So you see, we already have a head start because of the Detective Sweet connection. Now, what should we do first? Should we go to Nantucket?”

“There’s no way we’re going there,” I said.

At least, I’m not.

But I was slowly warming up to the idea of helping Bob. And I knew that Nancy wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed.

“I’ll see what I can do…”

Nancy threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. “Oh, Carol, thank you. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“Take it easy, Nancy. You didn’t let me finish. I’ll see what I can do to help Bob from here. In Fairport. In my home. I am not – repeat, not – going back to Nantucket. If you want to go and check things out there, good luck to you. You’ll be doing that part all alone.”

“But how are you going to help Bob from here? I don’t understand.” “A lot of the amateur detectives in the mysteries I read start their sleuthing by finding out all they can about the victim,” I said. “Remember, that’s what we did when Jim was in trouble last year. Your Realtors network was very helpful.”

As you just reminded me.

“And when you found your house buyer dead in your living room the night before the real estate closing, we snooped around and found out all sorts of information about him,” Nancy said.

I didn’t remember that we snooped around that time. But I let it pass. Let Nancy have her fantasies of always playing Watson to my Holmes.

“So this time we’re going to use the same method,” I said, proud of myself for being so logical. “We’re going to find out all we can about Tiffani. I’m going to do it on the Internet.

“And you, my dear friend, are going to do it with the help of your husband.”

Nancy looked confused. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Carol.”

“Oh, I think you do,” I said. I knew I was being extra hard on her, but it was the best way to get some intimate information on Tiffani. “You have to talk to Bob and find out all he knows about Tiffani. Where they met. How they met. How long they’ve been seeing each other. Who her friends are. Where her family lives. Anything he can remember.”

Nancy’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you realize how painful this is going to be for me, asking Bob to give me all the sordid details of his affair? Isn’t there another way to do this?”

“I’m sorry, Nancy. I know this is going to be tough on you. But I think we have to start with Bob. If you really believe he’s innocent. And you want to get him out of jail. You do, don’t you?”

Nancy sighed. Then laughed. Then started to sniffle. Which turned into tears. And then back into laughter again.

“Nancy, don’t have a meltdown on me now, the way you did when you first found out about Bob’s affair.”

“I’m not having a meltdown, Carol,” Nancy said. “But it suddenly occurred to me that, the way you worded the question, I was supposed to reply, ‘I do.’ And look at the trouble I got into the last time I said that!”

Chapter 35

I remember when being The Biggest Loser meant not having a date for the prom.

“I thought I handled that rather well,” I said to Lucy and Ethel. “I didn’t commit to doing anything that could get me into trouble, but I’ll be helping Nancy clear Bob’s name. After all, how could I refuse her? She is my very best friend in the world.”