“You’re sure you want these back?” she asked regretfully, before handing them over.
“Now that you know the risk you’re taking, it’s really up to you.” I noted that the seal on the package was broken. “Especially if you’ve already sampled one or two.”
“Yeah, one or two.” She grinned. “Or maybe eight. And I feel as healthy as a horse.”
I started to hand the parcel back, but Cynthia shook her head. “I suppose it’s better to be on the safe side. Especially after what happened to Ralph. That poor man didn’t deserve to die. I intended to go to his funeral, you know. Even if it meant taking a day off from work. I was afraid the turnout wouldn’t be very big, and I wanted to offer my support.”
Abruptly I realized that no one else had said a thing about a ceremony for Ralph. “When is it?” I asked.
“That’s just it. There isn’t going to be one.”
“What about a memorial service?”
“Neither one,” she confirmed unhappily. “I asked around, but no one seemed to know anything about it. So I called that daughter of his.”
“Madison,” I said.
“Yes, Madison. We’d all been given her cell number in case of emergency.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “And because we never knew which one of us might find ourselves tripping over Ralph next.”
I didn’t want to smile, because this was serious business. But Cynthia had a wonderful way with words.
“She told me there was no point in holding a service for Ralph. That no one would come because everyone he knew was either dead or they’d forgotten him.”
“That’s cold,” I said.
Cynthia crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. Once an actress, always an actress. “Cold doesn’t even scratch the surface. That chick’s attitude was positively frigid.”
Chapter Twelve
Finally it looked as though I might have a suspect. Or at least the possibility of one. I now knew of someone who’d felt real animosity toward Ralph Penders. That had to count for something—even if that person was his own daughter.
I hadn’t met Madison yet, but based on what I’d heard, I already didn’t like her. I found myself picturing a nasty-looking woman with a hooked nose and a pointy black hat. Probably because I had Halloween on the brain.
Back at my car, I picked up Becky’s marshmallow puffs. Juggling that batch, along with Cynthia’s, I didn’t have a free hand to knock on the Bloom sisters’ door. So I gave it a little kick instead. That was enough to bring Bernadette running.
“Let me help you with those.” She grabbed the top parcel out of my hands. “Harry told me you’d be stopping by to drop off more puffs. Is this the last of them?”
“Just about.” I leaned against the door to close it behind us. “John Vidal decided to keep his. And apparently the Jennings are away on a cruise. But all the others have been accounted for.”
“Good.” She led the way to the kitchen. “Harry will be happy about that.”
“Speaking of Harriet . . .”
As we entered the room, my voice died away. I’d thought that Bernadette and I were alone. But Hugh was standing in the doorway that led to the dining room.
“What about Harriet?” he asked.
I glanced at Bernadette. She didn’t seem to mind that he’d inserted himself into our conversation.
“Hello, Hugh.” I wondered why he was always hanging around in the middle of the day. Didn’t he have a job?
“You’re Melanie, right?”
Hugh stepped forward to take the bundle of marshmallow puffs out of Bernadette’s arms. Then he set them down on the counter. Honestly, it had saved her from walking about two feet. But Bernadette looked inordinately pleased by the gesture.
“Yes, Melanie,” I told him. We’d just met the day before. I should hope he’d remember my name.
I walked around Hugh and set the package I’d retrieved from the Volvo on top of the other one. Then I turned back to Bernadette. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Anything to help Harry,” she said. “Let’s go in the living room and get comfortable.”
Together we headed for the arched doorway between the rooms. Bernadette looked to see if Hugh was coming. I hoped he wasn’t, but if he wanted to join us, there wasn’t much I could do about it.
When I glanced back, I saw that Hugh was opening the top container of marshmallow puffs. Having come from Becky the previous day, the treats had defrosted overnight in my car. He pried up the lid and pulled one out.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked as he lifted it toward his mouth.
He paused to look at me. “Why not? They’ll only go to waste.”
“The reason Harriet wanted them back was because she was concerned that Ralph’s batch wasn’t the only one that was contaminated.”
“Oh . . . that.”
Yes, that, I thought.
“I’m not worried.” Hugh popped the puff in his mouth, chewing it with visible enjoyment. He swallowed, then said, “See? Nothing to fear.” He winked at Bernadette. “But if I suddenly start frothing at the mouth, call nine-one-one for me, okay?”
“Oh Hugh.” She tittered. “You’re such a tease.”
We got settled in the living room. Bernadette and Hugh sat side by side on a dove-gray sofa. I took a seat opposite them on a matching chair. Hugh’s hand slid along the cushion between him and Bernadette until his fingertips were able to graze the outer edge of her thigh.
I frowned and lifted my gaze away. Seriously? At their ages, couldn’t they save this stuff for when they were alone?
“What did you want to talk about, Melanie?” Bernadette asked. Her voice sounded unnaturally high. I wanted to slap Hugh’s hand away so she could concentrate on our conversation.
“Ralph’s daughter, Madison,” I said. “Did you know her?”
“Of course. Ralph lived in that house for years. I think he and his wife moved in when she was in high school.”
“How old was Ralph when he died?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe in his seventies? Physically, Ralph’s health was fine. It was his brain that was . . .” Bernadette lifted a hand and circled it beside her head in a very un-PC gesture. “Madison was their only child. She just turned forty. She had a cake delivered to Ralph’s place a few months ago so she and her dad could celebrate together.”
Bernadette turned and looked at Hugh. “You remember that, don’t you, honey?”
“Hmmm . . .” He smiled at her and shifted his hand. “What?”
“Madison’s birthday party?”
“No, I wasn’t here.”
“You weren’t?” She looked surprised.
“Nope. I must have been out of town. I’ve never met Madison Penders. Nor her father, for that matter.”
I attempted to draw Bernadette’s attention back to me. “I asked because Kent Upchurch implied there might have been a problem between Ralph and Harriet. Then Trixie Dent wondered if he could have meant Harriet and Madison. Were you aware of any issues between them that I should know about?”
“Well . . .” Bernadette chewed on her lip. “I guess maybe you heard that Harry told Madison she needed to straighten up and fly right?”
“Something like that,” I agreed.
“It was no big deal. Harry just said some things she felt needed to be said. Tempers flared up for a minute or two, then everything went right back to normal.”
A minute or two? Trixie had implied the disagreement had lasted a lot longer than that.
“Don’t forget about the thing with Howard Academy,” Hugh said.
Bernadette and I both turned to look at him.
“What thing?” I asked.
“You know.” He directed his answer to Bernadette. She still looked puzzled.
“Hugh?”
His gaze came back to me. “That’s right, I forgot. You work at Howard Academy, too.”
“I do.” I didn’t recall telling him that yesterday. Maybe Bernad
ette had mentioned it after I left. “Is that a problem?”
“Not for me.” His smile was all charm. “But you know how people can be. Howard Academy styles itself as a school for the children of the rich and famous. The one-percenters. So those who don’t have the connections or the money to send their kids there get a skewed idea about the place. They think everyone must be really snooty.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
Hugh shrugged. Like the attitude wasn’t his fault. He was just the messenger. “Human nature.”
I growled under my breath.
“You can see how it would happen,” he said. “The school’s always popping up in the press, usually in connection with some senator or Hollywood director. People get ideas.”
“Howard Academy offers kids a great education,” I told him. “That’s why high-achieving parents send their kids there.”
“So they can mix with their own kind.”
“No, so they can get their kids’ academic careers off to a great start.”
“You see?” Hugh grinned. “You’re doing it yourself.”
“Doing what?”
“Academic career,” he repeated. “How pretentious is that? Most kids just go to school. They don’t make a career of it.”
“Baby, that’s enough.” Bernadette was smiling, but she didn’t look happy.
“You know I have a point,” he said.
“What I know is that you’ve had this argument with Harry, too,” she retorted. “And that there’s no winning it for either of you. Now apologize to Melanie and play nice.”
“I’m sorry.” Hugh didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I didn’t mean to lecture you on the plight of the working class.”
He was a fine one to talk. From his Gucci loafers to his Ralph Lauren pullover, there was nothing working class about Hugh’s appearance. I shoved that thought aside. He’d mentioned something earlier, and I needed to get back to it.
“You said something a minute ago,” I told him. “About Howard Academy and Ralph, or maybe it was Madison?”
“Right.” Hugh nodded. “Bernie, you tell her.”
“Tell Melanie what?” she asked.
“About Madison wanting to apply for a job, and Harriet refusing to pull strings for her. Come on, babe, you told me this story.”
“I did? I don’t remember that.” Bernadette turned back to me. “Anyway, what Hugh said is about the gist of it. Just like the other thing, it wasn’t important. They had a conversation about it, and then it was over and done with.”
Maybe. But I’d be sure to ask Harriet about both issues later.
I rose to my feet. “I’d like to talk with Madison Penders myself,” I said to Bernadette. “Could you give me her phone number?”
She jumped up. “I have it written down in the kitchen. I’ll go get it for you.”
“I really am sorry,” Hugh said when she’d left the room. “I didn’t mean to go off on you like that. Please accept my apology, or I’ll never hear the end of it from Bernie.”
“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t offended by what you said. I just didn’t agree. Bernadette seems like a really nice person.”
“She is,” Hugh said. “I’m lucky to have found her.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to cause any problems between you.”
“Problems?” Bernadette caught the tail end of what I was saying. “What’s the matter now?”
“Nothing.” Hugh smiled expansively. “Melanie and I were just kissing and making up.”
Bernadette gave me a coy look. “I certainly hope you weren’t kissing my honey bunny.”
“No, of course not.” That had been an awkward choice of words on Hugh’s part. “There was definitely no kissing.”
She handed me a piece of paper with Madison’s phone number on it, and walked me to the door. “I knew that,” she whispered. “I was just teasing you. Hugh doesn’t have eyes for anyone else but me.”
As I walked back to the Volvo, I hoped Bernadette was right. I agreed with Harriet. I would hate to see her get hurt.
* * *
I arrived home just as Davey’s school bus was stopping at the end of the driveway. As I waited for the bus to drive on, Davey saw me, doubled back, and opened the car door. He tossed his backpack on the floor, then hopped in the passenger seat.
I gave my son a baleful look. “Is the driveway too long a walk for you?”
“Why should I walk when I can ride?” he asked. “Besides, my backpack’s heavy.”
“You must have lots of homework to do tonight.”
Davey shrugged. And quickly changed the subject. “Where were you this afternoon? Out buying stuff for the munchkin’s Halloween costume?”
Yikes. It was a good thing he’d reminded me. Time was passing and I still hadn’t done a thing.
“What does Kevin want to be now?” I asked. The two boys discussed Kev’s options endlessly.
“This morning, it was Steve Jobs. You know, the founder of Apple?”
“I know who Steve Jobs is.” I stared at Davey across the seat. “But how does Kevin know?”
“I told him. I figured it might make your life a little easier.”
“Thank you.” The reply was automatic. Every mother appreciates that thought. But then I had to ask, “How?”
“Think about it, Mom.” Davey grinned. “How hard can it be to come up with a black turtleneck?”
The Poodles and Bud met us in the hallway when we entered the house from the garage. All six dogs were happy to see us, so general pandemonium ensued. Each Poodle wanted to be properly greeted and told that he or she was the best dog in the world. Bud didn’t care about that. He was just hoping I’d be handing out dog biscuits.
Okay, so I’m a soft touch. I took the pack to the kitchen so I could give out biscuits. Sam and Kevin were sitting at the kitchen table, working on a jigsaw puzzle.
Sam looked up as we walked in. “The happy wanderer has returned,” he said.
“The what?” I stared at him.
That brief moment of inattention was all Bud needed to snatch a biscuit, which had been intended for Eve, out of my hand. The little dog grabbed it and ran. In seconds, he’d be under the couch.
“Sorry, girl.” I handed her another one. “Never mind,” I said to Sam. It was probably better if I didn’t know.
“Dad’s making hamburgers for dinner,” Kev announced. “We got out the grill and everything.”
Sam loved his grill beyond all reason. I’d long since given up trying to understand their connection. It had to be a man thing.
“Are you helping?” I asked Kevin.
He nodded eagerly. “I’m in charge of the buns.”
“Okay by you?” Sam asked.
That answer was easy. “As long as you’re cooking, you’re the boss,” I said.
Chapter Thirteen
After dinner, Sam and the boys parked themselves in front of the TV with a video game. I had calls to make. I grabbed my phone, and Faith and I went upstairs.
She jumped on the bed, made a nest in the pillows, and lay down. I closed the bedroom door behind us. When I joined her on the bed, Faith’s tail thumped up and down on the duvet.
She nudged a pillow my way. Using it meant I had to move closer to her. Now Faith and I were side by side. That pleased both of us.
First I called Madison Penders’s number. She didn’t pick up. She probably thought I was another robocall. I left her a lengthy message explaining who I was and asked her to call me back.
The second person I tried was Harriet. She answered right away.
“Are you busy?” I asked.
“I’m pacing back and forth in my living room, waiting to see if Detective Young and his minions are going to come and arrest me.”
That sounded dire. “Do you think they might?”
“It could happen.”
“What does Reginald have to say about that?”
“That he will do everything in his power to make s
ure it doesn’t happen. Blah, blah, legalese, big words. You know.”
“Oh.” That didn’t sound reassuring. “Is this a result of your interview-slash-interrogation? I assume Reggie went to the police station with you?”
“It is, and he did. Mostly, we just sat there and declined to say a word. I don’t see how that’s a productive exercise for either side, but apparently it’s the way the game is played.”
“Except it’s not a game, it’s your life,” I said.
“Yes.” She sighed. “I know.”
I snuggled into the bed. Then I felt guilty for making myself even more comfortable when Harriet’s life was falling apart. So I pinched myself on the arm. Ouch, that hurt.
Faith stared at me like I was crazy. She was probably right.
“I wanted to ask you about your relationship with Ralph, and his daughter, Madison,” I said.
“We were neighbors,” Harriet replied. “Cordial, but not particularly close. We waved when we saw each other on the street and we exchanged Christmas cards every year.”
“You were close enough to bake Ralph a batch of marshmallow puffs,” I mentioned.
“Now you sound like the police,” she muttered.
“That’s a good thing. Because it means I’m on the same track they are. Hopefully, we’ll both reach the same conclusion—that you’re innocent.”
“I give marshmallow puffs to lots of people,” Harriet said. “This time of year, I hand out those things willy-nilly. Everyone from the mailman to Trixie’s lawn service guy gets some.”
“Trixie has a lawn service guy?” Her yard was a fraction the size of ours. I wished we had a lawn service guy. “Sorry, segue,” I said out loud. “Continue.”
“This year, aside from the batches I baked early, I haven’t given any others away. For obvious reasons.”
“What about Madison?” I asked.
“What about her?”
“I heard the two of you had problems with each other.”
“It was nothing,” Harriet said quickly.
Which, of course, only made me want to hear more.
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Howloween Murder Page 9
