by Peg Cochran
Theresa folded the piece of paper up again and tucked it into her purse. “I just need you or Bernadette to drop me and Muriel off in St. Rocco’s parking lot. That’s where we’re all going to meet and the bus will collect us there. Muriel’s picking up a couple of jelly doughnuts for us to eat on the way down.”
Something her mother said jogged Lucille’s memory but the thought floated away as quickly as it came. She stood with her hand on the back of the kitchen chair trying to remember what it was. Suddenly it came to her—a picture of a bus idling in St. Rocco’s parking lot full of passengers headed to Atlantic City.
It was the day of the first Weigh to Lose meeting—Lucille was sure of it. She remembered passing the time with the driver on her way to the church hall to arrange the chairs for Dotty’s meeting.
She thought of Joe Ferrara—what if he’d gotten on that bus instead of going to the Gamblers Anonymous meeting like he was supposed to? That would give him an alibi for sure. He’d have been miles down the Garden State Parkway when Dotty was being murdered. Lucille shuddered as the scene came back to mind.
Jeannette was the one who arranged them trips. She got to do the more interesting jobs on account of she worked for the church full-time, unlike Lucille, who only worked part-time and had to do things like stuff envelopes and stick mailing labels on the newsletters.
Jeannette would have a list of everyone who went on them bus trips—Lucille knew exactly where she kept it in her desk. But how was she going to get hold of it? She couldn’t ask Jeannette because then Jeannette would want to know why Lucille wanted to see the list and that would arouse her suspicions, so to speak.
She would have to sneak a peek at it when Jeannette wasn’t looking. Only that meant going back to the church, and she wasn’t scheduled to work that afternoon. But Jeannette probably didn’t know that so maybe she could act all casual like and walk into the office and sit down at her desk like she was supposed to be there. And then when Jeannette went to the ladies’ room, Lucille could riffle through her desk for the list of people who were on that bus to Atlantic City.
It ought to work like a charm.
• • •
Lucille finished her omelet and tidied up the kitchen. She looked out the kitchen window as she rinsed her plate. The trees in the backyard were swaying in the wind. They’d been small when she and Frankie had moved into the house and now they were huge with spreading branches that shaded half the yard.
Clouds were rolling in and the sky had turned dark gray. Lucille thought it looked cold out, so she pulled on her leather jacket and the pair of gloves that had been stuffed in the pockets.
The Olds didn’t want to start and Lucille held her breath as she turned the key for the fourth time. The engine turned over and she felt her shoulders sag in relief. The last thing she needed was something going wrong with the Olds.
Lucille had hoped that maybe Jeannette had run out for something—a slice of pizza from Bella Riva or a couple of doughnuts from the A&P, but her Chevy was in the parking lot when Lucille pulled in.
Lucille tried to act nonchalant as she walked into the office—like this was any old day and she was there for her shift.
Jeannette’s head shot up when she heard the door open, and she stared at Lucille with her beady eyes as Lucille walked across the room, pulled her chair out and sat down at her desk. Lucille felt perspiration breaking out under her arms.
“What are you doing here?” Jeannette said, swiveling around in her chair.
“I’m working. What do you think?” Lucille began shuffling papers around on her desk.
“You’re not scheduled this afternoon. You already took the morning shift.”
“You’re kidding!” Lucille put her hand on her chest, pretending to be shocked. “Look at that. I must be getting old—forgetting something like that. I hope I don’t have that old-timer’s disease, you know? My mother’s friend Mildred got it and they found her down by the train station wearing a parka, gloves and boots, and here it was the middle of summer and nearly ninety degrees.”
“Are you going to go home?”
Jeannette continued to stare at Lucille and it was beginning to unnerve her.
“Sure, sure. But I’ll just finish labeling these newsletters while I’m here. Father Brennan wants them to go out as soon as possible.”
Jeannette raised an eyebrow but finally turned her attention back to her own desk, and Lucille breathed a sigh of relief.
A half hour went by and Lucille was getting bored. Besides, she was almost finished with the last stack of newsletters. It seemed like Jeannette was never going to leave the room.
Five more minutes passed, and Lucille sat drumming her fingers on her desk. How come Jeannette didn’t have to go to the bathroom? Lucille had to go every half hour herself. As a matter of fact, she had to go right this minute, but she was afraid to get up for fear that Jeannette would offer to go with her. And then she’d miss her chance and who knew how much longer she’d have to sit here?
Another five minutes passed and Lucille was beginning to feel desperate. Her stomach was starting to growl—that omelet hadn’t been enough to fill her up, even with the piece of carrot cake. She had to do something. She drummed her fingers some more.
Jeannette swiveled around in her chair. “Are you done with those?” She pointed to the newsletters on Lucille’s desk.
“No, no. Almost though.” Lucille gave Jeannette a big smile, hoping Jeannette couldn’t tell she was gritting her teeth.
The telephone rang and Lucille grabbed the receiver.
“Hello. St. Rocco’s Church.”
It was what they called one of them robocalls. Lucille was about to hang up when she had an idea.
“Yes, I’ll tell her,” she said into the phone. “Right away. Yes, I’ve got it.”
Lucille replaced the phone in the cradle. “Hey, Jeannette.”
Jeannette swiveled around again. “What?”
“That was Father Brennan. He needs you to meet him in the church.”
“What for?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Can’t you go?”
“He asked for you especially.”
“Well,” Jeannette said as she stood up.
Her chest was all puffed up like she was the most important person in the world, Lucille noticed. That made Lucille feel a little less guilty about playing a trick on her, but she still said a quick prayer to Saint Maturinus, the patron saint of jesters.
As soon as the door closed in back of Jeannette, Lucille sprang into action. She jumped up from her chair and winced. That arthritis in her left knee was getting worse and this damp weather didn’t do it no good.
Lucille knew which drawer Jeannette kept the file for the church trips in. As soon as she was sure Jeannette was on her way to the church, Lucille eased open the drawer and thumbed through the folders. She had to go through them twice before finding the one she wanted, and by then she was sweating. There was no way Jeannette would ever win any races at the pace she walked, but still, it wouldn’t take her all that long to get to the church, find it empty and come storming back to the office.
Lucille pulled the folder from the drawer and began going through the papers inside. She finally found the one she was looking for. Thirty people had signed up for that trip to Atlantic City and the first name at the very top was Joe Ferrara.
Lucille put the folder down and sighed. On the one hand, she was glad that Flo’s cousin couldn’t be the murderer, but on the other hand, she was no further along in figuring out who had sent Dotty and her husband Jack to their eternal rest.
Time was passing, and she’d better hurry up. All she would need was for Jeannette to find Lucille going through her drawers. Lucille slid the folder back into place and was about to close the drawer when she heard a noise. She froze with her hand on the handle.
Jeannette was coming!
Just as the door to the office eased open, Lucille slammed the drawer shut and made to m
ove away from Jeannette’s desk. She hadn’t moved more than an inch or two when she realized she was stuck. Her blouse was caught in the drawer.
The office door opened wider and Jeannette walked in. Lucille yanked on her blouse and pulled it free. At the same time, there was the sound of fabric tearing and Lucille’s shirt ripped in two straight up the front.
Jeannette stood staring at her. “What on earth?”
Chapter 21
Lucille was never so glad to leave work in her life. She held the two edges of her blouse together as she walked across the parking lot to her car. She had her leather jacket on but she couldn’t zip it on account of she still needed to lose some weight. If only Dotty hadn’t been killed she’d still be going to those Weigh to Lose meetings, and who knows how much she would have lost by now?
By the time Lucille got home she was starving. She opened the refrigerator and stared at the contents, then scanned the Weigh to Lose list under the magnet on the door. She could have fruit—she had a couple of apples rolling around in the produce drawer—and she could have vegetables—there was half a cucumber and a bunch of radishes on the shelf. But none of those were quite what she had a taste for.
She had a taste for ice cream.
Lucille opened the freezer and pulled out a container of fudge ripple marshmallow toffee caramel ice cream. All her teaspoons were in the dishwasher so she grabbed a soup spoon, pried the top off the container and dug in. The cool, delicious sweet taste of the ice cream was so soothing that the humiliation of Jeannette finding her with her blouse stuck in the desk drawer began to fade almost immediately.
People really underestimated the power of food, Lucille thought as she dug out another chunk of ice cream. Instead of prescribing all them pills and those hours of therapy, psychiatrists should hand out containers of their patients’ favorite ice cream.
Who needed Weigh to Lose anyway, Lucille decided as her spoon scraped the bottom of the container. Frankie loved her the way she was, so what was she trying to prove. She was never going to have a bikini body like them actresses on the covers of those magazines by the grocery checkout. It was time to face facts. She was middle-aged and nothing was going to change that.
Lucille was feeling decidedly better when the telephone rang. It was Flo.
“Lucille, I have some great news.”
“What’s that, Flo?” Lucille said, picturing her friend winning the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes where they showed up at your door with balloons and a giant check with your name on it.
“The Weigh to Lose meetings are going to continue.”
Lucille moved the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Had Flo lost her mind? What was so exciting about that?
“I can’t wait to get back on track with my diet,” Flo said. “Those meetings really gave me a lot of support.”
“But how? I mean, Dotty’s dead and so is Jack.”
“You won’t believe this, but that real estate lady you were working with—what’s her name?”
“You mean Janice Karpinsky?”
“Yeah, her. She’s taking over Weigh to Lose. We can go back to the meetings. I still want to lose a couple of pounds before my wedding.”
“There’s not much time left, Flo.”
“I know. That’s why I’m so excited. And get this. There’s a meeting in an hour at the church. Do you want to go?”
“Gee, Flo, I don’t know.”
“Come on. It will be good for you.”
Lucille thought of the ice cream she’d just eaten and patted her stomach. Would it show up on the scale by the time she got weighed at the meeting? Surely it would have melted by then and the liquid would weigh hardly anything.
“Fancy Janice taking over Weigh to Lose. I wonder if she’s quitting the real estate business.” Lucille twirled the phone cord around her finger.
“I don’t know.” Flo’s tone was impatient. “So are you coming?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“See you there then.” Flo hung up.
Lucille listened to the dial tone for a minute before hanging up. How on earth had Janice come to take over Weigh to Lose? It didn’t make no sense. Unless she’d been what they call one of them silent partners. Although Lucille couldn’t imagine Janice being silent—not the way she talked.
She’d have to ask her after the meeting.
• • •
Janice already had the room set up for the meeting when Lucille got there. Healthy snacks were spread out on a table off to the side of the room—artfully arranged fruit and vegetable platters. Not like when Jack was running the meetings, Lucille thought. He hadn’t done more than grab a couple of ready-made trays from the grocery store. Janice had gone to some trouble to put these together.
Lucille took a seat and put her purse on the chair next to her so she could save it for Flo. Flo was one of the last to arrive, flying into the room, breathless from rushing.
Flo sat down and leaned over toward Lucille. “The telephone rang just as I was about to leave the office. I never should have answered it. The woman went on and on asking all kinds of questions about fillers and lifts and resurfacing. Finally I got Dr. Hacker on the line and let him talk to her.”
Lucille had no idea what those things were and it made it sound like Flo worked in a garage, not a plastic surgeon’s office.
“Okay, everybody.” Janice walked to the front of the room and clapped her hands. She smiled at the assembled group. “Thanks for coming to Weigh to Lose today. We’ve been through some difficult times—losing Dotty and Jack the way we did—but I want to assure you that Weigh to Lose will still be here for you. It’s an exciting program—one that Dotty and I created together.” Janice’s lips set in a grim line.
There was a murmur from the audience and Janice gave a tight smile.
“Yes.” She bowed her head modestly. “Weigh to Lose was actually my idea, but before I could do anything about it, Dotty had taken it up and run with it.” Janice shrugged. “What is it the philosophers say? The race is to the swift?”
A woman in the audience raised her hand. “Will you still be on Oprah?”
Janice smiled, a real smile this time, and clapped her hands. “Yes, I will.” She pointed to the audience. “You will too. Because I know Oprah always likes to have a couple of success stories on the program.”
Flo poked Lucille. “I’ve lost five pounds. I wonder if she’ll consider me.”
Lucille wasn’t listening. She was thinking. What if Dotty hadn’t just taken the idea for Weigh to Lose from Janice. What if she had stolen it? Come to think of it, she remembered seeing the list of Weigh to Lose foods on Janice’s desk. At the time, she’d assumed Janice was on the diet, too.
But the list had been handwritten, not printed up like the ones Dotty handed out. Sort of like Janice was working on the idea herself before Dotty ever thought of it.
That sure would make someone mad. Especially seeing as how Dotty was going to get to go on Oprah and all. That would have made Janice furious. And maybe she couldn’t hold it in no more and she’d come over to St. Rocco’s the day of that first meeting and slit Dotty’s throat with her own melon baller.
Lucille shuddered. It had been awful seeing Dotty lying there with blood everywhere.
Flo tapped Lucille. “Are you okay? Are you cold? Put your jacket over your shoulders.”
“I’m okay. But I had this thought see . . .”
“Shhh.” Flo pointed toward the front of the room, where Janice had dragged the scale out of the closet.
Lucille groaned and sank lower in her seat. She shouldn’t have had that ice cream. Maybe Janice wouldn’t notice her.
But Janice did, and Lucille was mortified to learn she’d gained two pounds. So much for this Weigh to Lose diet. Wait till Oprah found out it was a big hoax.
Flo came prancing back from the front of the room when it was her turn, a big grin on her face. Lucille scowled at her.
“I’ve lost six pounds,” Flo glo
ated as she resumed her seat.
Lucille grunted.
“Aren’t you happy for me, Lucille?”
“Sure, sure, I’m happy for you, Flo.”
Lucille spent the rest of the meeting thinking about her idea—that Janice might have been the one who murdered Dotty. The one fly in the ointment though was Jack—what reason would Janice have had for murdering him? Maybe Janice had invested with him like Felicity and her husband? Lucille didn’t think so. Janice had made it sound like she didn’t think much of Jack’s financial tips.
Lucille was still in a bad mood as the meeting wrapped up. Here she was so sure she’d been losing weight, then she’d had to go and blow it all by eating that bit of ice cream.
Lucille put her hand on Flo’s arm as Flo was struggling into her leather trench coat.
“Listen, Flo, I’ve had an idea.”
“Mmmm?” Flo wound a leopard-print scarf around her neck.
“It’s about Dotty’s murder. Weren’t you surprised to see that Janice has taken over Weigh to Lose?”
“I guess.”
“And you know how she said she and Dotty came up with the program together?”
“Yeah.”
“What if Dotty stole the idea from Janice? Right out from under her nose, so to speak.”
Flo paused with her gloves half on and half off. “What if?”
“Don’t you think that would have made Janice pretty mad.”
“Yeah, sure, but—”
“Maybe mad enough to kill Dotty?”
“Oh.” Flo turned toward Lucille. “You could be right.”
“We know your cousin Joe didn’t do it. Felicity didn’t do it. And neither did that au pair Alva.”
“Yeah. Neither did Jack, like we originally thought.” Flo frowned. “You know, you could be right, Lucille.”
Lucille felt a small glow of triumph. Flo rarely ever admitted Lucille was right about anything.
“What are we going to do about it? We can’t prove it.”
