Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8)

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  Marcia suddenly sat up and gripped Lacy’s biceps. “You have to take that meeting and tell me what he wants.” She gave Lacy a hard shake. “I have to know, and you’re my only chance.”

  Lacy wriggled free and pushed her away. As much as she didn’t want to become involved in what was obviously a dysfunctional marriage, she had questions. “I will think about it, but you have to answer a question for me.”

  “What?”

  “Why did Dan and Bob fight? The truth.”

  “Bob did a lot of body work for Dan. They had an arrangement, and Bob wanted to end it.”

  “What sort of arrangement?” Lacy asked.

  “Bob overestimated the cost of repairs to the insurance company. When they paid up, they split the difference and pocketed it. For whatever reason, he had a change of heart about things and wanted out. Dan was mad because he would have to find a new mechanic. No big deal.”

  No big deal? Lacy thought insurance fraud was a very big deal. Not only was it illegal, but it might have brought in untold sums of money. Enough to kill for? I need to talk to you, Dan had said, and he had sounded urgent. What if he, like Deb, knew that Lacy was investigating Bob’s death? What if he had something to do with it and wanted to cover his tracks? But if Bob had been running an illegal scheme with Dan, it was possible he might be involved in other nefarious activities. Maybe Dan could give her some insight into the deceased man’s character. Either way, she needed to meet with him and hear whatever he had to say.

  “All right, I’ve decided to take the meeting with Dan.”

  “I want to be there. I can hide in a closet or something,” Marcia said.

  Lacy knew how well that would go. Marcia would spring out at the first word and beat them both with a tire iron for looking at each other. “How about this: You and Riley can get together. I’ll secretly call her on my cell phone, and you can listen in.”

  “Why does Riley have to be involved?” Marcia asked.

  Because if your husband tries to cover his tracks by getting rid of me, I don’t trust you not to join in. “She’s bored and needs a distraction. Let’s humor her.”

  “All right,” Marcia agreed. She seemed ready to agree to anything at this point, proving how desperate she was to find out what her husband was up to.

  “In the meantime, no more crazy, catty behavior. I have zero interest in your husband or any other man besides Jason. When this is over, you might want to talk to someone about your jealousy issues,” Lacy said.

  “Let’s see if they prove true first,” Marcia said. She sounded casual, as if they had met up at the market and weren’t lying in the mud after having gone ten rounds. “My car is just down the block. Do you need a ride home?”

  Was she serious? Did she really think Lacy would get in the car with her? “No thanks, I’m good.”

  “All right. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and arrange the setup for the meeting.”

  “Sounds great, talk to you tomorrow,” Lacy said. Her tone was laced with sarcasm that went right over Marcia’s head. Apparently she genuinely didn’t think the preceding twenty minutes were anything but normal. Maybe for her they weren’t. Lacy, on the other hand, was ready to go home. The mud and water made her cold. They also bogged her down and impeded her progress. What should have been a ten minute walk home turned into twenty.

  I just want to shower and go to bed, she thought, but that wasn’t to be. When she walked up the street to her grandmother’s house, another unpleasant surprise awaited her: Riley’s car was in the drive. That could mean that Riley was there, but it didn’t. According to the kind of week Lacy was having, it could only mean one thing: her mother was there.

  Chapter 13

  There was no way Lacy could go in the front door. Her mother could not see her covered in mud, especially not after picking her up without pants a few days ago. She could either walk back to the Stakely building and shower, alone and in the dark, or she could slip into the house and get herself cleaned up before her mother saw her.

  She was tired, cold, and wet, but such was her desperation that she initially turned toward the Stakely building. How bad would it be, really? So she hiked back into town when she was wet and freezing and had already been attacked by a psychotic wife? Could the night get any worse if she went back?

  The answer to that question was always yes. So instead of taking her chances with some unknown horror that might accost her if she went back to town, she sucked it up and decided to handle the situation like a grownup: she would sneak into the house.

  Whenever her grandmother scrubbed the floors, she opened the window in the hall to alleviate the stench of cleaning solution. Sometimes she forgot to lock it again. Lacy checked the latch. She was in luck; today was one of the times she forgot to lock the window. She used her nails to pry the window up a few centimeters, but that was when she encountered her first problem. The window was on the ground floor. By standing on her toes, Lacy could reach the sill. But she lacked the arm strength to pull herself through. All she needed was a few inches of leverage.

  She turned to survey the yard. The moon had slipped back behind its cloud and she was once again in darkness. There was a large stump by the shed. If she could find it, she could roll it beneath the window. She headed in the direction of the shed, arms extended like a zombie.

  After stumbling around for what felt like a long time, the moon reappeared. Lacy paused and looked around. She had gone too far and was in the neighbor’s yard. With the moon as her guide, she turned and jogged back toward the shed. She could see it not more than thirty feet in the distance. The hide-and-seek moon went dark again while she was still jogging. She tripped on something and went down. For a moment, she debated giving up and going through the front door like a normal person. So what if her mom saw her covered in mud? They would have an argument. It wasn’t like they never had those. But Lacy was tired of arguing. She was tired of feeling like everything she did was wrong in her mother’s eyes. She didn’t want to argue tonight. All she wanted was to take a long, hot shower and go to bed. So she got back up and stumbled toward the shed.

  When she finally reached it, she found the stump with no trouble, but faced a new hurdle. The stump was too heavy to carry. She could roll it but could barely make out the house in the darkness. What if she rolled it to the wrong window? She was in this far; she might as well continue. She bent and began rolling the stump toward the house.

  The moon reappeared. It was only a sliver, but it was enough. She got the stump to the window with no problem, stood on it, and opened the window enough to let herself in. The window slipped open easily with no sound. She began to think she might make it. With a deep breath, she placed her hands on the sill and jumped off the stump. Her toe caught it, kicking it away, as her midsection landed heavily on the sill and stopped.

  Uh-oh. She kicked again, helpless to find a toehold to push herself the rest of the way inside. The stump was nowhere to be found. She tried using the siding on the house, but couldn’t get a grip. Her shoes squeaked as they slid helplessly off the vinyl.

  If only she could pull herself the rest of the way inside. She strained her arms forward, searching for something to hold onto. Her feet automatically followed suit so that both were outstretched. To the outside observer she would have looked like a muddy Supergirl, midflight. The exercise was futile, however. Not only was she hopelessly stuck, but now the window sill was digging painfully into her midsection. She wriggled back and forth, trying to alleviate the pressure. The motion worked to push her farther through the window. It also meant all her weight was now resting on her bladder.

  Lacy began to regret the sports drink she downed before leaving the gym. She figured she had about ten seconds to find a new position before it became an emergency. Wriggling had gotten her into this mess, and wriggling would get her out. She began to sashay and shimmy at a furious pace, inching her way through the window like a worm. It was painful, but it was working. Once her hips were inside, she coul
d reach the wall. She pressed her hands to it and pushed, levering the rest of her body through the window.

  She landed in a jack-knifed heap on the floor, but at least she was inside. And despite all the physical work it had taken to get there, she didn’t think she had made much noise. All she had to do now was get to the shower before anyone saw her, but suddenly everything hurt and she was exhausted. For a moment, all she could do was lie still and stare at the ceiling. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, her mother was standing over her, hands on hips.

  “Oh, hey, Mom.” Maybe if she played it casual, her mother wouldn’t notice that she was covered in mud and lying on the ground.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” Frannie said.

  “Maybe we could skip the beginning and go straight to the part where we’re done talking,” Lacy suggested.

  “Are you trying to make up for lost time here? You never snuck out of the house when you were a kid; that was Riley’s routine. Is that what this is about? Are you trying to relive your youth by being rebellious now? How else can I explain you being arrested with no pants and sneaking into the house covered in mud? Do I even want to know why?”

  “Probably not,” Lacy said. She stood and yawned. It had been a long day. She had played an exhausting game of dodgeball, walked home, gotten into a fight, and then stumbled around the yard before using even more energy to lever and wriggle herself through a window. More than that, though, she was emotionally exhausted. The endless days of going round and round with her mother were taking their toll. And she had no Jason nearby to temper the stressful onslaught from her mother.

  Her grandmother rounded the corner and stopped short, the proverbial deer in headlights. The mounting tension must have been palpable. Lucinda was like a villager in Pompeii before Vesuvius blew. Should she stay or should she flee? She seemed unable to decide.

  “Where are you going?” Frannie asked when Lacy tried to ease by her to go into the bathroom.

  “I want to shower, Mom. I’m cold and the mud is starting to dry and crack.”

  “Yes, I know. You look like a swamp creature,” Frannie said. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Late,” Lacy said.

  “It’s almost midnight. The dodgeball tournament was finished ages ago. Where have you been?”

  “Does anyone want a snack?” Lucinda asked, but no one answered.

  “I walked home. It took awhile,” Lacy said.

  “Did you detour through the Le Brea Tar Pits?” Frannie asked.

  “I made cookies this afternoon, and of course there’s pudding,” Lucinda said.

  “There was a misunderstanding. Everything is fine,” Lacy said.

  “What sort of misunderstanding?” Frannie asked.

  “It’s nothing, Mom.”

  “It’s not nothing. I want to know what happened. I want to know why my daughter feels the need to sneak into the house at all hours looking like a lunatic escapee from a spa treatment gone wrong,” Frannie said.

  “How about prune cake? I could make a prune cake,” Lucinda said.

  Frannie rounded on her. “No one wants prune cake, Mom. In fact, we could all do with fewer sweets. No one needs to eat.”

  Lacy stepped between them. “Don’t yell at Grandma. And I want something to eat. I’m starving.”

  “Of course you are. I don’t think we’ve been able to have one discussion in this family without Grandma swooping in to stuff a spoon in your mouth,” Frannie said.

  “Leave her out of this, Mom. Grandma has never done anything but love and take care of me.”

  “You mean to say I don’t? Who do you think made sure you got braces and contacts? Who took you to a dermatologist when your face broke out like a measles victim? Who talked to your gym teacher and begged him to give you a second chance when he wanted to fail you because you kept faking an illness on chin-up day? If it weren’t for me and all the work I did on your behalf, you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze through that window just now. You wouldn’t be playing in a dodgeball tournament with a handsome boyfriend who loves you,” Frannie said.

  “Enough, Mom,” Lacy said.

  “The prune cake won’t take any time at all. And I’ll make coffee. Decaf, I think,” Lucinda said. She turned and escaped to the kitchen. Lacy wished she could follow and hide inside a cupboard with a cookie the way she used to when she was little.

  “You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you covered in mud?”

  “It rained,” Lacy said.

  “Did it rain dirt? Or did you stop to roll around for fun like a hot pig?” Frannie said.

  Lacy sighed. Her mother wouldn’t stop until she had the truth. “I got into an argument with someone.”

  “You got into an argument with someone,” Frannie repeated the words slowly, trying to make sense of them. “I don’t understand.”

  “I had a misunderstanding with another dodgeball player.”

  “How does a misunderstanding leave you encased in muck?”

  “She pushed me to the ground and we wrestled.”

  Frannie blinked at her. “You were mud wrestling?”

  “Don’t say it like that,” Lacy said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like we were in Las Vegas and strange men threw money at us.”

  “What else am I supposed to think? I mean it, Lacy, I am beyond horrified at your behavior lately.”

  “What about your behavior?” Lacy said.

  “My behavior? What behavior?”

  “Riley told me you’ve been sneaking off in the afternoon, wearing a big hat and sunglasses. What have you been doing, Mom? Where have you been going?”

  “You want to know where I’ve been spending my afternoons? You want to know the big, nefarious secret that’s kept me busy the last few days?”

  “Yes,” Lacy said.

  “All right, I’ll tell you. My friend Shannon is teaching a master gardener class at a new community center in the capital. She invited me to come and help out while I’m in town. It’s outside, and it’s sunny. That’s why I wear a big hat and sunglasses. I’ve been gardening, Lacy, gardening! Oh, the salacious scandal, now it’s out in the open.”

  “Oh,” Lacy said. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. She had been hoping for something more, something worth keeping secret or, at the very least, something embarrassing. She should have known that her prim and proper mother would never do anything to tarnish her good name and reputation. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because it didn’t occur to me that I had to,” Frannie said. “Please tell me no one saw you rolling around in the mud or breaking in here.”

  “Mom, the thing is I don’t have to tell you everything, either. I haven’t lived at home for a long time. If I want to wrestle in mud or sneak into a window or walk around town without pants, that’s my business. I am a grown woman.” Her impassioned statement lost momentum when a chunk of dried mud fell off her face and clattered to the floor, shattering into dust.

  “Then maybe you can tell it to your boyfriend,” Frannie said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that Jason couldn’t get ahold of you after the dodgeball game. He called Riley, but obviously Riley is in no condition to go traipsing all over the countryside looking for you, so I volunteered to come and check on you. I’ve been worried sick, but I suppose I needn’t have. You and your little friend were just out ‘wrastling’.”

  “I will call Jason and let him know I’m okay.” She gritted her teeth. “Thank you for coming to check on me.”

  Frannie sniffed. “You’re welcome.” She stepped forward and offered up a tight hug. Reluctantly, Lacy returned it. For a few beats, she thought it was over and all was well, but she should have known better.

  “Don’t eat too much prune cake. You know it goes straight to your hips.” With a final pat on the back, Frannie let her go and walked away.

  Lacy replayed the conversation in her head while she showere
d. Where had she gone wrong? She had tried to stand up to her mother and make her realize how much her unwarranted criticism hurt. Somehow she never succeeded.

  When she was finally finished scrubbing the mud out of her hair, she texted Jason to let him know she was home and they had won the game. He would no doubt be sleeping by now; she was secretly glad she wouldn’t have to fill him in on the night’s escapades.

  Her grandmother knocked on the door as she was drying her hair. “Lacy, the prune cake is ready.”

  Lacy checked her watch. It was one on the morning, the worst possible time to eat a fattening cake with a butter-caramel icing. “Be right there,” she called.

  Her grandmother already had a huge piece of cake waiting for her, along with a glass of milk. Lacy sat down and started to eat. Her grandmother sat and ate, too. For a few minutes, they ate in peaceful silence. Then Lacy spoke. “You know something, Grandma? This has been the best part of my day.”

  “Mine, too,” Lucinda agreed. “Can I get you another piece?”

  Frannie’s warning echoed in Lacy’s ears. Don’t eat too much prune cake. You know it goes straight to your hips. “Absolutely, and make it a big one.”

  Lucinda smiled as she stood and retrieved two more pieces of cake.

  Chapter 14

  In the morning, Lacy felt remorse over her midnight bonanza. Her growling, angry stomach told her that eating two pieces of calorie-laden cake in the middle of a night wasn’t a good idea.

  Traitor, she accused as she pressed her palm to her aching belly and poured herself a cup of coffee. And because she refused to let her mother, or her protesting stomach, rule her life, she ate another piece of cake. Maybe she would throw up. That would show her mother who was boss. She refilled her coffee and fought a wave of nausea.

  Len, the editor of the paper, called as she finished eating. “Lacy, I still don’t have your story on my desk. What gives?”

  “I’m not sure there is a story,” Lacy said.