by Jeff Shelby
After a few bites of pizza, the conversation had turned to the dead woman who’d been found in their great aunt’s house.
You know.
Like most normal dinner conversations.
“Is that the old dude with the bad hair?” Grace asked, her mouth stuffed full of pizza. She was still wearing her wet swimsuit and had a towel wrapped around her midsection.
“Yeah,” Will said. “You can totally see his scalp when the wind blows. Or when someone just breathes on him. He's got those spots all over his head. Reminds me of a leopard. Or one of those aliens races from Star Trek.”
“What spots?” Sophie asked. She was toying with the tab on her soda can, bending it back and forth and trying not to break it.
“They're called age spots,” I told her, handing a napkin to Grace. “They do not look like leopard spots.”
“Whatever they're called, they're gross,” Will said. “But I think he did it. I'm pretty sure he did.”
“Might I remind you that all we know is that Agnes was found dead,” I said. “No one has called this a murder.”
I felt a little guilty as the words came out of my mouth, since Detective Grimmis had, in fact, confirmed that her death was being investigated as a homicide. But I wasn’t supposed to talk about it, even with the kids. Perhaps especially with the kids.
Emily looked up from her lap. “Did what?”
“Why did you even come on this trip?” Will asked, shaking his head. “You should've stayed home with your dumb boyfriend.”
I held out my hand. “Gimme the phone.”
“I won't look at it anymore,” she said.
“Give it,” I said. “Not while we're eating.”
“I’m talking to Bailey,” she said quickly. “She’s…she’s having issues with Tyler.”
I didn’t know who Tyler was, and I didn’t care. I kept my hand out, palm up, and waited.
She sighed and handed it over.
“I think the drummer did it,” Grace announced.
“The drummer?” Jake asked. “In The GG's?”
“Yeah. He looked mean.”
“What are you even talking about?” Will asked, scowling at her. “That guy was like older than Grandma Billie.”
“So?” she said. “He could've done it. He could've hit her with the drumsticks.”
Emily split a piece of pizza in half and gingerly bit into it. “Who are we even talking about?”
“It's seriously like you haven't even been here,” Will said. He reached for a napkin and wiped the grease off his lips. “I'll bet Andy even knows who we're talking about.”
“Shut up,” she muttered.
“I think the smelly lady did it,” Sophie said quietly.
“The smelly lady?” I asked. According to Will, all old people were smelly, and I wondered if Sophie thought of them the same way. But then I remembered she had said that she liked old people, and, because of this, she was going to be my prime candidate for caretaker when Jake and I were older.
She chewed on a piece of crust, nibbling off tiny pieces. “Yeah. The one who wore all that perfume. I think she suffocated her.” She waved a hand in front of her nose. “Like, she smelled whatever she was wearing and just passed out.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You can't die from perfume. I'm telling you guys. It's creepy Irv.”
As they polished off the first pizza and dug into the second, I tried not to think about who killed Agnes Clutterbuck. Irv was a candidate, for sure, especially after all that we’d learned about his relationship with Agnes. But he’d apparently moved on easily enough, so I couldn’t quite see him committing a crime of passion when he was already sleeping with someone new. I didn't think Esther, or the “smelly lady,” as Sophie called her, was a real possibility because I didn't even know if Esther and Agnes had much of a relationship, much less if she’d have a motive to kill her. Which left, for me, one real suspect.
Aunt Gloria.
I didn't say that out loud, of course, because not only did they not know Agnes really had been murdered, but I also didn't want them all freaking out that there might be a killer on the family tree. The more I thought about it, though, the more likely it seemed that Gloria was involved. She and Agnes had an antagonistic history. Agnes was found in Gloria's house. Gloria herself informed us that she didn't have an alibi. And she wasn’t exactly the most even-keeled person on the planet. I had seen her temper in action, so it wasn’t too big of a stretch to imagine her doing something rash. Something that ended up with someone dead on her kitchen floor.
The one thing I couldn’t quite figure out was what she had to gain by killing Agnes. Sure, Agnes would no longer be a thorn in her side if she was dead, but offing the woman in her own house – where it would most definitely be blamed on her – didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And her temper and proclivity for making impulsive decisions certainly supported her as a potential suspect.
“Your wheels are turning,” Jake said.
I snapped out of my reverie. “Just thinking.”
“About creepy Irv?” Will asked.
“About giving me my phone back?” Emily asked hopefully.
“About Grandma and Grandpa?” Sophie asked. “When are they getting here, anyway?”
I thought about Don and Mary Kay and their travel troubles. We hadn’t heard from them yet, but that wasn’t a surprise. “We don’t know yet,” I told her. “Soon.”
“Unless they’re sick,” Jake added. “Then…not soon.”
I glared at him but he just smiled innocently. “Tell us what you’re thinking about, honey.”
I sighed. He was impossible. “I was just thinking...that it's nice that we're all on vacation together for a change.”
Grace beamed at me and Sophie smiled, and the older two had puzzled expressions on their faces, as if they weren’t sure to believe me or not.
But before anyone else could respond or offer their opinion as to the sincerity of my statement, we were interrupted.
By a scream.
TWENTY TWO
Will was the first one out the door, but I was right on his heels.
We all stood there in the cul-de-sac for a moment. Save for several cars parked on the street, though, it was empty.
Then we heard the scream again, and then another voice screaming again.
Coming from the other side of the cul-de-sac.
Near Gloria's house.
I looked at Emily. “Everybody back in the house. Jake and I will be right back.”
They all started grousing about having to stay.
“Inside,” Jake barked, already breaking into a light jog. “Now.”
They trudged inside and I took off after Jake.
We rounded the corner and hurried down the street, I could see Gloria in her driveway, waving her hands like a crazy woman. Her voice was loud, but I couldn't make out the words. As we got closer to the house, I saw who she was shrieking at.
Vivian Kettlebaum.
“You are not welcome here!” Gloria screamed. “Ever!”
Vivian's wig was back on and she was wearing a tight purple jumpsuit. It was a very odd choice for how warm it was.
“Well, this band needs a new singer since you're going to the big house!” Vivian screamed back. “And I'm taking my place back!”
“You aren't getting anything back!”
The garage door was open and the other members of the band were inside, watching the two women scream at one another.
“This band needs a singer and the only place you're going to be singing is behind bars!” Vivian shouted. “That's what everyone's saying! Because you killed Agnes!”
Gloria stomped her foot on the pavement. “I didn't kill anyone!”
“You stabbed her in the back just like you did me,” Vivian hissed. “And everyone knows it! The only thing people are surprised by is how it took you so long to kill her!”
“What are you even talking about?” Gloria said, throwing her hands up in the air.
“You are more insane than ever!”
Vern set his guitar down and ambled across the driveway. He squinted at the two ladies from behind his bifocals. “Ladies. Let's not do this right—”
“Shut up, Vern!” they both yelled.
He visibly shrank and made a hasty retreat back to the garage.
“You double cross everyone!” Vivian shouted. “Everyone! And I'm tired of it!”
“You have no idea what you're talking about!” Gloria shouted back, pointing at her. “You are a liar and a...a...liar!”
“I hope you rot in that prison cell!”
“I'm not going to prison, you idiot!”
“Try double crossing people there!” Vivian yelled. “You'll get shanked! And good riddance!”
Gloria let out some sort of strangled cry and charged at Vivian. She tackled her and they tumbled to the driveway, clawing and screaming at one another.
“This is unbelievable,” Jake muttered, marching toward the tangled, angry women.
He got his arms around his aunt and pried her off of Vivian. He held her in the air while her arms and legs thrashed around. He turned and looked at me. “I'm taking her inside.”
I nodded and watched as he carried her up the driveway, squirming and screaming in his arms. He said something to the band in the garage and the keyboard player reached over and pushed a button on the wall. The door slowly lowered.
Which left me with Vivian.
TWENTY THREE
Vivian lay sprawled on the drive, her wig askew, her mascara running at the corners of her eyes. The buttons at the top of her jumpsuit were torn off, exposing a black bra. The heel of one of her matching purple shoes had broken off and was lying next to her foot.
I looked down at her. “Can I help you up?”
She got to her knees. “I'm fine.” She tried to stand and toppled over to the side, not realizing her shoe was broken.
I held out my hand and she reluctantly took it. I pulled her up to a standing position. Rather than stand there lopsided, she removed her one good shoe. Then she righted her wig.
She lifted her chin. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
“You're welcome,” I said. “Are you alright?”
She looked down at her open cleavage and attempted to pull the jumpsuit a little closer. “I'm fine. Thank you.” She ran her free hand over the thighs of the velour suit. “I'm fine.” She took a deep breath. “Actually, I'm not fine.”
I didn't say anything. I didn’t know if she was referring to the fact that she’d just gotten in a fight with Gloria or that she was slowly sweating to death in her outfit.
She let go of the jumpsuit, letting it fall open, presumably to cool off. “I apologize. I should not have shown up here. And even though I did, I should've left when I knew it was a bad idea.” She shook her head. “It was not terribly smart on my part.” She looked at me for a moment, scrutinizing me. “You're Billie's granddaughter?”
I shook my head. “Granddaughter-in-law. My husband is her grandson.”
“Oh, right,” she said, wiping at the sweat on her forehead. “I'm confused. I'm Vivian, by the way. Not that you didn't already know that, given the scenes I've been making around here.”
“I'm Daisy,” I told her. “It's...nice to meet you.”
She snorted. “I appreciate you saying that, but I'm sure that's not how you actually feel.”
It had simply been just a nicety, but I wasn’t going to agree with her statement. “I'm not looking to get in the middle of anything,” I said instead. “We just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.”
“Well, fortunately, your husband separated us before we could do anything really dumb,” she said. “I mean, dumber.”
She was saying very agreeable things to me, which was in direct contrast to her conversation with Gloria. She leaned down and picked up the broken heel, examining it. “These were an eighty-dollar pair of shoes,” she said, more to herself than me. She grabbed the remainder of the shoe and fit the two together in her hands, probably trying to decide if they were salvageable.
“This is such a mess,” she murmured, and I had to wonder if she was just talking about her expensive shoes or if she was actually thinking about the bigger picture.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said.
She looked up from her shoe and stared at me.
I took that as an invitation. “What exactly did you mean? About taking your place back?”
She transferred both pieces of the shoe to one hand and tugged gently on the ends of her wig, making sure it was in place. “I used to be the lead singer. Of The GG's.”
“Okay.” I already knew this, but since she hadn’t been the one to tell me, I decided to feign ignorance and let her tell her version of things.
“For about a year and a half,” she continued. She straightened a little, squaring her shoulders and pushing her chest out. “I was actually one of the founding members.”
“That must have been fun,” I said. “So what happened? Did you quit or something?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Uh, no. Not exactly.” She put her hands on her hips. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
Of course I wanted to hear it. The only version I’d heard was from Gloria, and I was beginning to wonder if her telling of events were as truthful as she made them out to be. She’d been vague in her retelling, just saying that there had been a lot of differences between Vivian and the band. But that left a lot open to interpretation.
“Only if you want to tell me, I guess.” I tried to sound interested enough for her to continue, but not overeager so she’d perhaps wonder about my intentions.
She thought for a moment, then chewed on a purple fingernail. Finally, she shrugged. “I guess it doesn't matter. You're going to believe what you want to believe.” She took a deep breath. “So Gloria and I knew each other. Just from around here. Friends in common, meeting up at social events, things like that. She came to a few of our shows. I thought she was just a fan. I didn't even know she sang.”
I thought an argument could be made that Gloria actually couldn't sing, but I kept my mouth shut.
“She started showing up more and more,” Vivian said. “Which wasn't necessarily odd, but she was fairly consistent. Then she started staying after the shows, going with us for drinks or dinner or whatever.” The corner of her eye twitched. “And then she and Oscar starting spending more time together.”
“Oscar?” The drummer? The guy who looked like was old enough to be Gloria’s father?
“Our drummer,” she confirmed. She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t believe was she was about to tell me. “I thought they were just friends. But one night, after we played at a retirement home in Sarasota, I found them in the van. Together.”
I blinked. “Together?”
“Oscar's third wife had just died,” she explained. “Emphysema. He was vulnerable. And Gloria moved right in. She was on top of him when I opened the back of the van. It wasn't pretty.”
First Irv, and now Oscar. One thing was becoming pretty clear about Aunt Gloria: her age was not slowing her down. In any way.
“Two days later, I was out,” Vivian said, her voice laced with bitterness. “We met for rehearsal and Oscar told me.”
“Why Oscar?” This struck me as odd. It made more sense to me for bands to make decisions together, especially when they involved ousting another member.
“He's the leader,” she said. “It's his band. He and I sort of formed it together, but he was the one who wanted to start it and he came up with the name.”
“What did he say?”
She tugged at the sleeve of her pantsuit, hitching it up past her elbow. “He told me that I wasn't working out and that it was time for a change.” A very tight smile formed on her lips. “Any guesses as to who they brought in?”
It wasn’t much of a guess. “Gloria.”
“Gloria,” she confirmed and there was no mistaking the bitterness as she spat out the name. “
So, you tell me. Does that sound like a coincidence to you?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “No, I guess not.”
She nodded and smiled, apparently pleased that I was agreeing with her. “So there you go. That's why we were just wrestling on the driveway, and why I showed up here tonight. I did hear that she might be out of the band, so I was hoping I might be able to get back in.”
“Don't take this the wrong way,” I said “but do you really want back in? You said it’s been a while, right? Since this all happened?”
She toed the crack in the sidewalk with her bare foot. “My husband passed away several years ago. My kids and grandkids live in Michigan. I don't have many hobbies. The band was my thing. It's what I love to do. Sing.” Tears formed in her mascara strewn eyes. “Yes, I'd like to be back in very much.”
It was hard to not feel sorry for her. I wasn't sure I believed everything she’d told me – after all, she was Gloria’s archenemy, and I did feel a tiny bit of allegiance to Jake’s aunt – but it sure sounded like she'd been kicked out of the band without much warning. That had to be hard, especially if she felt like she didn't have much else.
She wiped at the tears in her eyes, streaking her mascara further. “I just need to step away. But everything that's been going on has me upset. The band, Agnes, everything.”
I thought that stepping away might not be such a bad idea for Vivian. I shaded my eyes from the sun. “Did you know Agnes well?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I did. We played cards together sometimes. Water aerobics. We were friendly.” She frowned. “I was very saddened to hear she'd passed. It's always hard around here when your friends pass away.”
I nodded sympathetically. Living in a retirement community presented a different dynamic. It wasn't a normal neighborhood, where people moved in and out because of jobs and growing families. Usually when they left, it wasn't because they bought a new home. It was because they died. And even though the circumstances surrounding Agnes were different, the end result was the same. Vivian had lost someone she knew, someone she enjoyed spending time with.
