Prom Date (15 page)

She reminded herself grimly that she was now a member of that group. The lucky group. The ones who were going.

When she quietly told Mitch what she was thinking, he asked if she actually thought someone could really care that much that they weren't going.

She said no, of course not. She was tired and she had a headache and she wasn't thinking clearly. But even to her own ears, that didn't sound very convincing.

She wanted, more than anything, to be wrong about what she was thinking. She didn't want Stephanie's death, her own attack in the alley, or this newest attack on Kiki to have anything to do with the prom. Selfish of her, maybe, but the thought that the dance she had

waited so long to attend could be the reason for all this ugliness was just too depressing.

"Fd just like to remind all of you," Lacey announced when the stretcher had disappeared around a comer, "that the funds Mrs. Thompson was keeping for us weren't just for candles. That money was for everything: the decorations, the caterer, food and drink, the band, the flowers, everything. Shouldn't we be trying to figure out what happened to it? We're going to need that money."

"I don't see what choice we have," Liza said. "We'll have to wait and find out from Kiki when she's feeling better. That won't be until tomorrow. I'm sorry if that disturbs you, but we can't help it."

Lacey stunned Margaret then by smiling sweetly at David and saying earnestly, "I'm sorry. Liza is right. I've been callous. I really was thinking of all of you, though. I mean, Fm not going. I haven't been asked yet. But you guys are going. I just don't want you to be disappointed, that's all."

Margaret glared at her. Since when did Lacey Dowd care if the Pops were disappointed about something? She hadn't already set her sights on David, had she? With Kiki not even at the hospital yet?

The police seemed to feel the incident was

a simple robbery. Their scenario involved someone passing by the room as Kiki lifted the cash box out of the drawer. The thief had hit her with the heavy box, then escaped with the money.

Margaret pointed out the silver pin. But there were too many people around willing to assert, just as they had at the lighthouse, that the pins were common. No significance there, she read in the officers' faces.

They said they would talk to "the victim." But Margaret felt they'd already made up their minds about what had happened.

On their way out of the building in the late afternoon sun, Margaret hissed at Lacey, 'What were you doing back there? Flirting with David? I could swear that's what you were doing, but I have to be wrong, don't I? Because you couldn't possibly have been."

Lacey shrugged, "You know Kiki would never show that face in public. She's too vain. She's not going to look normal in time for the prom. My uncle Randy broke his nose once when I was little, and I was afraid to go near him, he looked so awful. As far as I know, David never cheated on Kiki, like Michael did on Stephanie. But even if he were willing to take her to the prom looking as if she just went

ten rounds with a boxing champion, she'd never go. So," she added cheerfully, ''he needs a date if he's going to attend his senior prom, right, Margaret?"

Margaret was about to say, "Forget David, Lacey. If Kiki doesn't go, David won't, either," when the silver Quartet van suddenly pulled up at the foot of the steps and screeched to a halt. Adrienne jumped out, her eyes on the ambulance pulling away from the curb, her face gray. She hadn't seen Margaret yet.

''Mom?" Margaret called, hurrying over to the van. "What are you doing here?"

To her amazement, her mother grabbed her, threw both arms around her and hugged her so hard, Margaret couldn't catch her breath. "You're all right, oh, thank goodness!" Adrienne babbled.

Margaret could feel her mother's body shaking. "Mom, what's wrong?"

Adrienne pulled away then, looked into Margaret's face. She seemed to be drinking it in, as if she couldn't believe it was real. "I saw that ambulance and I thought ... I don't know what I thought, but it wasn't good. You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She couldn't tell her mother just yet what had happened. That would have

to wait until they got home. "What are you doing here? I told you Mitch was bringing me home/'

'1 thought
was taking you home
' Caroline said petulantly. "Weren't we going out for pizza?"

Margaret had forgotten. She had made plans to do just that with her friends following the meeting. But that had been last Tuesday, thousands of years ago, before the picnic, before Stephanie, before the Dumpster, before Mitch.

"Margaret," her mother said, her voice trembling, "the police were at the house. Just now. Two officers. They said the milk you gave the cat was poisoned. Poisoned, Margaret! Some kind of deadly insecticide. And it was in our fridge in our store. Margaret, practically everyone in town knows I'm severely allergic to milk. I've made jokes about it in the store, remember? Lots of people know."

"Mom . . ."

Her mother put a hand up. "So the police are certain that poison was meant only for you. For you, Margaret! That's why I got so hysterical when I saw the ambulance pulling away just now. I thought you .. . you ... Margaret, I am trying to tell you that someone tried to poison you!"

Mitch on the blue striped couch, sent her a questioning look. '1 do?"

"The silent partners. I thought you said they all belonged to the Toomey Garden Club. Liza's mother grows great roses, you said, and Beth's mother's specialty is chrysanthemums, and Kiki's mother has the best gardener in town, right?"

''Oh. Them. Yes, that's true. I thought you meant friends of mine. None of my friends have time to garden. But yes, the partners do have beautiful gardens." Adrienne pointed to a lush spring bouquet of yellow, blue, and white flowers sitting on the coffee table. 'They often bring flowers into the store. I keep them there a few days, and then bring them home to enjoy them." She smiled wanly at Caroline. "And your mother grows lovely flowers."

"Yeah, she does. But I don't think she uses insecticide. I think she does that organic thing."

"Could you give me the names of these people?" Officer McGill asked, pencil poised over his notebook.

The other officer said, "I know their names. Except that last one. Her name was?"

Caroline's flush deepened. Margaret knew why. It was as if he had said the other three

women were well-known, but her own mother wasn't anybody important.

The partners, Margaret thought cynically, must donate some of their truckloads of money to the Policemen's Benevolent Association. She hoped that didn't mean they'd get special treatment. Not that she thought any of them had tossed her into a Dumpster. She almost laughed aloud then, at the vision of the chic, well-coiffed women lurking around in the alley.

It wasn't funny, though, was it? Someone had been lurking in the alley, expecting Margaret to drink that poisoned milk and die. Die! When the cat had died instead, the plan had to be changed, so she'd been thrown into the Dumpster and it had been set on fire. Someone had tried to kill her.

"Who else has access to the store? I mean, who has keys?" an officer asked Adrienne.

"Let me see." She began ticking off on her fingers. "I do, of course, and my daughter. I keep several extras around, here at the house and at the store, just in case. I'm not one to lose things, but you never know. Then there are the partners. Each of them has a key, although as far as I know they've never used them."

"I have one," Caroline said, "because I work

there. And sometimes I lend it to Scott if he has an early pickup or delivery/'

"You do?" Adrienne looked surprised. "I didn't know that. I really don't want you loaning the key to anyone, Caroline. Not even Scott. If he has an early delivery, I'll be at the store to let him in."

Unperturbed, Scott nodded, but Caroline lowered her eyes in chagrin. "Sorry," she murmured.

"Anyone else?" McGill asked.

"No. I think that's it."

"Mom," Margaret felt compelled to point out, "the key ring hangs right beside the cash register. You said yourself you keep extras. Do you count them every night to make sure they're all still there?"

Doubt appeared in her mother's face. "Well, no, not every night. But ..."

"The store's been really crowded lately, Mom. Like a zoo. Anyone could have slipped one of those keys off the ring while we were busy away from the register."

"But I do count the keys," Adrienne protested. "Not every single night, maybe, but often enough. I counted them this morning. They're all there."

The older officer's voice was noncommittal as he said, "Someone could have made a copy.

Slip the key off the ring, take it to a locksmith and have a copy made, bring it right back, slip it back on the ring. Wouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Adrienne was very pale. "And that's how you think someone managed to slip the poison into the milk carton?"

"Not necessarily. IVe been in your shop. It's small, with easy access to the back rooms and that room upstairs. Could be, when you were busy like your daughter says, someone walked right into that back room with the fridge, opened it up, dumped the insecticide in and walked back out again. Someone who was already inside the store."

"Maybe," Margaret said. "But they couldn't have stolen Stephanie's dress, the one my mother was working on, while we were in the shop. We'd have noticed them leaving with it. So, since there wasn't any broken lock after that dress was missing, they must have used a key."

She hadn't realized until she saw the puzzled look on the officers' faces that her mother had failed to report the stolen dress. An explanation was required. Adrienne handled it. "I didn't report it," she finished, "because the dress wasn't expensive enough to make it grand theft. With everything else that was

going on, I didn't think petty theft was worth the attention. Should I have reported it?"

"Only because it might be part of the whole picture, ma'am," Officer McGill said.

"I think it is," Margaret said firmly. "And I don't think the attack on Kiki had anything to do with the money. It's got something to do with the prom."

She was instantly sorry. The officers looked uninterested, but Adrienne bolted upright on the couch, alarm in her face. Margaret could practically see the images in her mother's mind: an explosion at the gym the night of the prom, a fire, mass murder . . .

"But maybe not," Margaret added hastily. If Adrienne became convinced that the insane acts were related to the prom, even she, who had ardently wanted her daughter to attend, might change her mind and make that daughter stay home. "I'm sure," Margaret added weakly, "that the poisoning attempt has nothing to do with the prom at all. That's too silly. How could it?"

The officers stood up. "We need to find out where that insecticide came from," one of them said. "When we know that, we'll be able to give you some answers. Meantime, we're still working on that girl's death out at the Point." He looked at Margaret. "Lucky that

milk carton and the saucer didn't bum in the Dumpster, or we wouldn't even know this thing had happened. You'd be out there without a parachute, miss, like that other girl, the one who died, not knowing someone had it in for you. At least you've had some warning. You take care now, you hear? We'll get back to you soon as we know something."

Does it really matter, Margaret wondered wearily as her mother led the officers to the door, why this is happening? Even if the prom isn't involved, Stephanie will still be dead, Kiki will still have a face that looks like she fell from a twelve-story building onto cement, and I will still be scared half out of my wits. Correction, completely out of my wits.

Caroline and Scott left, but Mitch hung around all evening. Margaret could see that he was reluctant to leave her, even if she was safe in her own home. His obvious concern warmed her like a wool sweater.

*Tou have to go home," she said shortly after eleven. They were sitting on the porch swing. The temperature hadn't dropped, and the motion of the swing provided them with a bakny breeze. A three-quarter moon overhead acted as a faint lamp. Adrienne had tactfully withdrawn to her own room, but Margaret knew she probably wasn't asleep. "We've got

school tomorrow. I don't want you dragging into your classes with bags under your eyes/'

''Why not?" His worried look was momentarily replaced by the hint of a grin. "I've already got a date for the prom, so I figure I can slack off now. Are you so shallow that you'd break a date with me just because I'm not my usual drop-dead, gorgeous self?"

Margaret didn't laugh. "Please don't mention the prom," she said softly, leaning back against his chest.

"Sorry." His arm tightened around her shoulders. "You going to be okay? Look at me, Meg."

She turned her head, and he repeated, "You're going to be okay, right?"

She couldn't very well say, No, I'm not. She said yes. "Yes, I'm going to be just great," was what she said. But her mind was not at all convinced.

Before he left, he said, "Look, everyone knows about that Dumpster business. So people wiU be watching out for you. Not just me, lots of people. You won't be alone, I promise. I'll pick you up and take you to school, and bring you home afterwards, or to the store if that's where you want to go."

"Caroline picks me up every morning."

"Fm bigger than Caroline/' and now he really did grin. *'She won't mind. She'll want you to be safe, right?"

Margaret wasn't so sure Caroline wouldn't mind. But the truth was, she would feel safer with Mitch. Maybe that was sexist, but she couldn't help it.

She would have to call Caroline later. Probably wouldn't be a great conversation.

"And Eddie knows how I feel about you," Mitch said after he kissed her good night, "so he won't let anyone ease up on this case, okay?"

Those were the words that finally carried Margaret off to sleep in the wee small hours of the morning. "Eddie knows how I feel about you."

Caroline hadn't been angry when Margaret called. She had said she understood, and was glad Margaret had Mitch "watching out" for her. But then she had added wistfully, "Wish I had someone like that."