Meow Matrimony

by Lickel, Lisa;

  After I got home, Mom and I chatted some about the house. I wanted to wait to talk to Adam about it until we had more time than a flying text.

  We had a good night’s sleep and breakfasted to the radio news of Doralynn Pressman’s arrest.

  21

  Mom buttered her sunflower seed and cranberry bread toast with a shaky hand upon hearing of Doralynn’s arrest.

  The sunshine through my kitchen window promised another warm, almost summer, day in mid-June, two weeks, two days, and—I studied the clock—five hours intil the wedding. Ivanna and Jason’s wedding had been scheduled for next Saturday. Amy had not rescheduled another event in their place and planned to close Ethereal Events for the day out of consideration of the deceased. What rotten timing to be thrown in jail.

  “Much as I dislike that overbearing, pretentious woman,” Mom said, “I find it hard to believe she would murder her only child.”

  “You say murder is a crime of passion, and poison often a woman’s choice of weapon.” All I could offer was platitudes. I was yet to be a mother but horrified at the idea of filicide. Cats, I could excuse, which was why Memnet and Isis had been separated when Isis gave birth. I agreed that Doralynn was rude and loud, but Ivanna, for all her brazenness in life, was growing on me in death as I learned of her understated compassion and goodwill in the community. I thought back to her wedding dress, so beautiful and chaste, nothing like her reputation.

  Barry’s report in his radio voice gave the facts: Doralynn Pressman, age fifty-one, had been taken into custody last evening at 9:05 p.m. for questioning in the murder case of her late daughter Ivanna Lynn Pressman, age thirty.

  I cocked my head at Mom, waited until she swallowed and asked, “What would it take for you to kill me?”

  She choked anyway and gulped at her coffee, which thankfully was lukewarm. “What a horrible thing to consider!”

  I snorted. “It is, definitely. But, think of it as an exercise for class, or profiling. What would it take for you to kill me?”

  “It would have to be a dreadful, dreadful accident,” she replied immediately.

  “Is there anything I could do, anything shameful enough, that would put you in such a rage that you wished I was dead?” I persisted.

  “No.” She shook her head and looked at her plate in revulsion.

  “Not even if I lied to the public and my family, misled my fiancé and hid millions of dollars from you and everyone? Caused you intense embarrassment? Maybe even cost your job and reputation?”

  Mom hugged herself. “You are my daughter. Of course, I know how old you are, and that you were entitled to an inheritance on your thirtieth birthday.”

  There, now she was getting into the spirit of the game. “But you didn’t know exactly how much money I’d been hiding from you, and you had been complaining about your debts. Your household expenses were more than the miserable allowance your father gave me.”

  “And I didn’t have the skills…” She winced at playing “dumb,” “for a job at…at my age.”

  I let sympathy shine for a moment. Mom had always been independent and strong. She also had fifteen years on Doralynn. “I didn’t care since I knew Dad leased a new car for you every year from his business, and you could cut down on your lavish lifestyle. You chose to overspend and it’s not my fault.”

  “But I need my friends at the Country Club!” Mom had straightened and even stuck her nose in the air. “Tennis is my life! Surely you must understand everyone needs to excel in something, and I’m good at tennis. It keeps me in shape and everyone admires my trophies.”

  Wow, she was really conjuring Doralynn. I stayed in my role of Ivanna. “I don’t care. I’m marrying Jason Clark…for…you.” I stopped. Had Ivanna truly loved him? “I love him!”

  “Melody Clark has never given me the time of day. I couldn’t believe it when you chose that…that place for your wedding, when we could have had a perfectly lovely reception at home. Tent rentals were so much more reasonable. I tried to engage Mrs. Clark’s cooperation in the wedding, make her pay her fair share…” Mom slowed down too. Her face crumpled. “Truly? Could a person be that unconscionable?”

  “I’m not sure anymore.” I was myself again. I studied my toast, hoping for a clue in the patterns of marmalade. “We don’t really know them. Doralynn might have hoped her daughter would share the inheritance. Ivanna already had the money and was using it for the exercise place.”

  “Perhaps she learned of the will. But why not remove the inheritor instead of her daughter?”

  “A crime of passion,” I said. “A moment of madness?”

  “She may have gotten hold of some of that pesticide if she was friendly with the woman from the company,” Mom mused. “Confronted her daughter about the state of their affairs and in a fit of rage, sprayed her.”

  “Elvis just questioned me about that day,” I said slowly. I shivered and grimaced. “He thought someone else was there that day.” I decided not to say anything about the missing ring. “I didn’t detect any odor of pesticide. I’d remember that. Elvis said it happened fast.”

  Mom reached over to run her comforting hand along my arm. “Oh, honey. You could have been in danger too.”

  I glanced up at her. “Well, that’s means, motive, and opportunity. I was so sure Jason had killed her.”

  “We’ll see.” She pushed her chair back and took our plates and cups to the sink. “Doralynn hasn’t been charged yet. Maybe she knows something that will help the police if she didn’t do it.” Mom glanced at me over her shoulder. “Let’s pray for her.”

  I went to hug her. “My mom, believer in the power of change.”

  She hugged me back. “I’m meeting with Stanley today, and the attorney for the Clarks. It might be a long day.”

  “OK. Adam is coming home—here—with me after work. I’ll tell him about our plans with the house. You’re sure?” I studied her for a hint of sacrifice.

  “I want to. I decided. I already called a real estate agent in Maplewood to see about putting my house on the market. Of course, there’s a lot to do before we can move ahead.”

  A tingle of mixed shock and regret worked its way across my shoulders, but I was convinced this was good for us and shoved it away.

  “After you and Adam return from your honeymoon, perhaps you can spare a day here and there to help me sort through things up in Maplewood, decide what to bring?” Mom smiled.

  “Sure.” She had her own furniture and I didn’t expect her to keep all my odds and ends. “We’ll figure it out.”

  ~*~

  Our usual Friday busy-ness behind us, Adam and I made chicken stir-fry for supper at my house.

  “Mom and I have a plan,” I announced after he blessed the food.

  Fork halfway to his mouth, he looked at me with his amused “what now?” expression. “Oh?” The fork completed its journey.

  “She wants to buy this place and move here.”

  My solid rock, Adam wasn’t fazed. “By the light in your eyes, my love, I can see you’re happy about this. You’re not worried she’ll be too close?”

  “Are you?” I countered.

  “I like her. I think it’s a good plan. You won’t entirely lose your home.”

  “My home is where you are,” I said promptly and wholeheartedly.

  “I appreciate your spirit,” he said softly and squeezed my hand. “You agreed to sell, you told me, but I was willing to live here.”

  “This makes sense, to sell. Until we need a bigger place—” my face heated as he chuckled “—living in the apartment is better for us.”

  We straightened and continued to eat, talked about Mom’s retirement and move, my agreement to help sort out the home in Maplewood. Doralynn’s predicament waited until we’d finished cleaning up and sat in the living room.

  “Mom and I agree it’s hard to imagine her murdering Ivanna in cold blood. A fit of rage, or an accident, perhaps,” I said, “but not a plot.”

  “She’s alr
eady been released,” Adam said.

  “That call while we were closing up?” I twisted from my position in the circle of arms to study his chin.

  “Right. Chief Hackman informed me. She’d been playing in a tennis tournament for seniors over near St. Louis for several days around Ivanna’s death, but was reluctant to admit her absence initially for fear of admitting her age group.”

  “Hmm, runs in the family. I guess I’m not surprised. Barry made sure to report her age on the radio, so now everyone knows.” I sighed and turned back, drawing his arms around me. “I’m glad, too, that at least in this case a mother didn’t hurt her child.”

  “She was mortified her arrest made the news but calmed down pretty fast when the chief told her the Freedom of Information Act trumped her threats of slander, which she’d had to prove damaged her financially.” Adam tightened his hold, breathing warmth and love against my temple. “We have one last appointment with Pastor Gaines tomorrow afternoon, yes?”

  “Our last premarital counseling, yes. The rehearsal is all arranged for the following Friday. Then…Sunday’s it!” I smiled clear to my curling toes. “You’re sure about taking those two weeks off?”

  “If you don’t mind my checking in once in a while. I trust Marie and she’s sending up a competent manager, the assistant at the Fairfield branch, for the time we’re away.”

  “Your largest store. Prebble, right? Gina?”

  “Good memory,” Adam said.

  “She’s about Martha’s age, if I remember right from her file. I hope Martha’s OK with this.”

  “I think she was relieved,” Adam said. “She knows we trust her. Two weeks out of her life working overtime would have been more stressful than fun.”

  “Is Gina staying in the apartment?”

  “That’s what Marie offered, and Gina agreed to, though we would have gotten her a hotel suite.”

  “She could have stayed here, too. I’m glad you’re not a slob, so we don’t have to clean up much for her. Mom will take care of all the cats here while we’re gone.”

  “Memnet will be glad to be back home.”

  “For a while. Until all of us, with Isis and Four, move into the apartment.”

  “You found a home for One?” Adam started stroking my hair and my toes curled again.

  “Mom wants her. She already named her Cleo.”

  “We should give Four a real name,” Adam whispered as he nibbled my ear.

  “Wha?”

  That was the end of our conversation until Mom got home a few minutes later. Thankfully she made a racket coming in the back, giving us fair warning.

  Adam whispered, “Caught necking with your boyfriend.”

  “Almost husband, but…busted!” I whispered back while frantically straightening my hair. I kissed him on the cheek and leapt up to greet Mom. “Hi! You hungry? We have some leftover stir fry.”

  “Thank you, but Virgil and I ate.” She set her briefcase on the table and I took three bags of groceries hanging from her arms.

  “Oh, thanks, Mom. You didn’t have to do that. I can feed you.”

  “I know, dear. Guess who I saw at the store?”

  I had a feeling, but I let her tell.

  Adam joined us and greeted her quietly while helping me put food away.

  “Doralynn Pressman.”

  I wanted to pretend surprise but failed miserably.

  Mom pouted a second until Adam confessed to informing me.

  “My suspect list is shrinking,” I lamented. “I had to put Stanley back on, and Ruby, too, since she had motive.”

  “What motive?” Adam asked. “The threatening messages? Is she still getting them?”

  “She’s gotten two more,” I said, “but she’s not scared of them anymore. I traced them to one of those accounts where you can preschedule messages, but I haven’t found the owner of the account yet. Ripple even complimented me.”

  “He asked you to help?” Adam raised one brow.

  “After Ruby showed him the last one yesterday, he did, yes. Can I help it if the police department is short-staffed, Mr. Mayor? And he hired me as a consultant, which I converted into community service hours to pay off my debt to Virgil.”

  Mom and Adam stared at me. I shrugged. “It was slow at the store yesterday afternoon. I didn’t double-dip, and the police department didn’t go off budget with expenditures, and I had fun. Win-win-win!”

  They shared one of those “whose turn is it to take care of Ivy” looks.

  “Hmpf!” I marched past them to put empty grocery bags away. “I think Ripple and I make a great team.”

  ~*~

  Over steaming cups of hot chocolate later on, I told Mom and Adam why Stanley and Ruby were back on my suspect list.

  “Ivanna may have trusted Stanley, at least while she sorted out how she felt about Jason, but the fact remained that both Stanley, and now Ruby, benefitted big time from the money in Ivanna’s will. And Stanley is already spreading it around and he doesn’t even have it.”

  Mom didn’t comment, and Adam shifted, crossing opposite legs and sending his foot jiggling. Mom had the chart out. “I think we should have Elvis here to discuss matters.”

  “How about tomorrow?” Adam asked. “At the store?”

  It occurred to me that I hadn’t mentioned Elvis’s visit to the store earlier. I wiggled.

  Adam sighed. “Ivy? What’s up?”

  “Well, um…Elvis came to talk to me the other day…”

  I wiggled under their second mutual stare in less than an hour. “He didn’t talk to either of you?” I hedged.

  “No,” Mom said.

  “I haven’t seen him lately,” Adam said.

  “He had something to show me. It was about Ivanna’s engagement ring.” I wrapped my right hand over my left, twisting Adam’s ring.

  “What about it?” Mom finally snapped in exasperation.

  “It’s missing,” I informed them and stood. I wasn’t ready to share the startling possibility that I’d inadvertently shared space with the killer. I could sleep on that comfortably glad Mom was here with me. They could yell at me tomorrow. Or, hopefully, Elvis, if he spilled the theory. There wasn’t much anyone could do about it, anyway. I doubted the ring would turn up ever again.

  Which led me to wonder about Elvis’s assignment with the police. What was he doing?

  22

  Ruby met her goal and then some for the memorial exercise-a-thon participants. Some of those crazy folks signed up for more than one shift, so there were always at least half a dozen sweating bodies on the machines or the floor, besides a few walk-ins, and a small audience. Fifty-one people signed up in two-hour shifts on the Saturday of the Memorial, 8:00 AM to 8:00 PM. Fifty-three, counting Mom and me.

  Mom was in Maplewood, getting the house appraised and listed and wouldn’t be back until evening.

  I was hanging around, being helpful and avoiding the machines. I filled out my sponsor sheet with a dozen names, mostly fake, who agreed to donate fifty cents for every sit up I managed, up to five dollars each. They were generous, if I do say so. I had no intention of sitting up for anyone, and had trays of drinks and snacks in my hands every time a new shift was called.

  Barry Goodyear was broadcasting the WWAG morning show from a corner makeshift radio set up at Fit’r U.

  I’d been able to help with cables and microphones and extra speakers. Hooking up had been a piece of cake. Or a doughnut, in my case. Ruby frowned when she saw my mouth full, but, hey, I’d earned it, sweating from crawling around on the floor, taping down electrical lines so no one would trip. And I’d gotten there extra early in the morning.

  Yolanda from the newspaper showed up for half an hour at the start of the E-thon to snap a few pics and grab some quotes and said she’d return for Jason Clark’s speech.

  Every time one of the exercisers hit a hundred of anything, Barry would “woof-woof” announce the milestone. “Good morning, Grovers. This is Barry giving a hearty WOOF-WOOF to Shel
don Ackers for doing his one hundredth fifty-pound pull on the power tower! Let’s everyone WOOF-WOOF for Sheldon!”

  Toward the middle of the first shift, exercisers were hitting milestones all over the place. “Sharon did her two hundredth jump rope set, Grovers! A huge WOOF-WOOF!” “Jonas hit 10,000 steps on the treadmill!” “Paulette, with her coach Julie’s help, just completed one hundred sit-ups on the inversion bench!” And so on. I ate another doughnut.

  Jason showed up at ten forty-five in the morning. For once he appeared nervous beneath his dapperness. He wore an ocean blue silk tie with his striped rolled-up sleeve dress shirt, a pastel color that might have passed for bleached seaweed. He must have just had his hair cut, for it was slicked back instead of waving in dark undulations that beckoned running hands through it. Snap out of it, Ivy girl! You don’t even like him. Melody accompanied him, glued to his elbow. She looked like a fragile little pixie, dressed in plain charcoal pants and knee-length matching silky jacket.

  Jason shook hands with people standing around and made it a point to stop at each exercise station and thank the person using the equipment.

  Melody also pressed hands and expressed gratitude.

  I admired that about them. It wasn’t that I wanted Jason to be a killer. It was more that I wanted to know who’d done it, and why, and for the murderer to be put away where he—or she—would never do anything like that again. I found myself checking all the ladies’ fingers for rings like Ivanna’s and hated myself for thinking that way.

  Jason deposited his mother at a chair near Barry’s corner and stopped to pose for Yolanda’s camera.

  “How do you feel about today’s event?” Yolanda asked.

  “Bittersweet,” Jason replied. “I’ll have to get back to you after my speech.”

  I’d set up a standing microphone for him in front of Barry’s set-up, and tied it in to the radio station feed.

  Barry introduced him. “Apple Grovers, it’s my distinct honor, with pride and sorrow, to introduce today’s special guest, Jason Clark. Jason and Ivanna Pressman were to be married this afternoon. As you are all aware, Miss Pressman passed away…”