by Harper Lin
“Well, I appreciate that,” Amelia replied. “That was some shower, right?” Amelia studied their reactions.
“Oh my gosh!” gushed Shorty. “We couldn’t believe it. I mean, truthfully, no one liked Dana. But to kill her?”
“And with a knife?” The Smoker added. “I’ve heard that that makes it a crime of passion because it’s so intimate. You gotta get close to someone to do that.”
The girls continued clucking away except The Crier. She checked her watch, shifted from foot to foot, and finally put one hand to her stomach and the other on her head.
“You guys, we need to get going,” she whined as she hurriedly handed her credit card to Amelia to pay for all three treats.
Like someone had thrown a bucket of water on the scene, both girls stopped and looked at their friend. Something was silently communicated between all three of them, and before Amelia could ask, they ordered three coconut cherry cupcakes, paid in full, and waved as they quickly hobbled in their heels through the grass and out of sight.
Amelia looked down at the credit card receipt. The Crier’s name was Francine McManahan.
After another day in the black, Amelia and Lila shut down for the day. Looking at her phone, Amelia didn’t have any messages from her kids, her ex, or Detective Walishovsky. She had thought that maybe he’d have called to say sorry for overreacting on Saturday, but no such luck.
Arriving home, she stepped into the house and could smell something cooking.
“Hey!” she shouted. “What’s cooking?”
“Hi, Mom,” Meg and Adam answered in unison. “We’re making vegetable fried rice.”
“Yum!” Amelia rubbed her stomach as she walked into the kitchen. It looked as if a bomb had gone off, as it usually did when the kids cooked. Adam’s laptop was perched in a corner of the counter, playing some strange music that they both knew all the words to. It was like a foreign language to Amelia, but she smiled all the same.
How terrible it must be for the Fosters. They were coming home from some exotic place to bury their only daughter. Watching Meg dance around as she stirred the rice, bumping her brother with her hip and calling him things like spaz and nerd, made Amelia want to burst into tears and hug them both. But she didn’t.
“It smells really good. I’m starved.”
“How’d you do today?” Adam asked. “Did we make a million dollars yet?”
“Not yet. But we’re getting there. How were things at your father’s?”
Both kids became quiet and gave each other knowing glances.
“I don’t have to smoke a pipe and wear a deerstalker hat to deduce something is afoot,” Amelia replied. She watched as her children stopped what they were doing and stood still. Meg looked at her big brother.
“Dad moved Jennifer into the house.” He sighed, thrusting his hands into his pockets. Meg looked down and sniffled.
“Okay.” Amelia felt as if she had just been punched but furrowed her eyebrows, tilted her head, and looked at her children. “And this bothers you guys?”
“It’s just that if she’s moving in, that means you and Dad are officially over.” Adam stepped up behind his sister, who was slowly stirring the rice and sniffled again.
“You guys, your dad and I have been officially over for a while.” Amelia set down her purse and walked over to them. “But where you both are concerned, we’ve agreed we’ll never be over. We love you both so much.”
“Jennifer said they were talking about marriage and babies.”
Of course they were. Amelia shook her head and bit her tongue to make sure the disgust didn’t show on her face.
“Well, your dad is moving on. Just like we have, right? We’ve got the Pink Cupcake, and Adam, you’re basically running my public relations all by yourself. Meg, it won’t be long before you’re working alongside me for an actual paycheck.” She took a deep breath and held it for a second.
“I know you might feel bad or confused or funny about the whole thing”—she smoothed Meg’s hair gently—“but remember, your dad and I will always love you both.”
“Even if they have a new baby?” Meg chirped. Her eyes were red.
“Well, look, they haven’t even had a wedding or anything yet. At least not that we know of.” Amelia mumbled that last part. “Let’s not worry about what hasn’t happened yet. Okay? Besides, all this heart-to-heart stuff has postponed dinner, and I’m starving.”
The kids cheered up as they continued to cook dinner. Amelia went upstairs to wash up and change clothes. Just as she was washing her face, her cell phone went off in her pocket.
“Hi, Amelia.”
“Hi, John.” She patted the back of her head, enjoying the feel of her short cut. “The kids were just talking about you.”
“So you’ve heard?”
“Look, if it’s about you and Jennifer getting married and having babies, I couldn’t be happ…”
“Married? Babies? Where is this coming from?”
“From the kids. They said Jennifer had moved in with you and you’re talking about marriage and babies. Look, I couldn’t be happier for you, really. Just don’t forget about them, okay?”
“Jennifer has moved in, yes.” John’s voice was firm, and it brought back memories that Amelia didn’t like. The condescending comments about her family, her education, and a dozen other nitpicks flooded over her, and she found herself involuntarily squeezing the telephone receiver tightly. “But we haven’t discussed getting married. I mean, not in any real depth.”
“That’s between you and her. But John, Adam told me you were talking about throwing him a party at some hotel downtown. I’m telling you now that you can’t do that.”
“Well, Amelia, Jennifer and I thought it would be nice to throw him a party…”
“At a hotel? Do you know how irresponsible teenagers are?”
“We’re talking about Adam, not just some kid down the street.” John chuckled as if Amelia had said something humorous.
“Yes, your sixteen-year-old son. I’m raising him. I know who he is and how great he is, and I want to keep him that way. John, he doesn’t need a big party for turning a year older.”
“Jennifer said she had a great time when her father threw her a fancy party for her seventeenth birthday, and I just thought…”
“You can’t be serious,” Amelia barked. “Do you realize she had her seventeenth birthday just eight years ago? I’m telling you now, Adam is not getting some extravagant party so you can feel like a cool dad who sees them on the weekends.”
“Are you going to be the one who breaks it to him?”
“If I have to.” Amelia rubbed her head. “Look, I just got home from work, and I’m tired. We can discuss this later. But John, if you go ahead with this after I’ve made my feelings perfectly clear, we are going to have problems that neither one of us need. Please, don’t make this about you and your ego.”
“If I have the money to throw my son a party, I will,” John spat. “I’ve asked you for favors, too, and you completely ignored them.”
“What have you ever asked me to do for the kids that I ever ignored?”
“Not for the kids but for me.”
“Well, that is why I don’t do them. You don’t need me anymore, John. But the kids do. They need us both, and they need us to work together. You and me. Not you, Jennifer, and me. Just you and me.”
John let out a frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone. Amelia knew the conversation was done, and she was glad for it.
“I’ll think about it” was all he said.
“Thanks, John.”
“I heard there was some kind of accident at the place you were having that party at?” Amelia could tell by John’s voice he was going to take a jab. She braced herself.
“Yeah, that was something. We were long gone before it happened,” she lied. The coverage on the news was surprisingly brief, and thankfully, there was no shot of the Pink Cupcake truck in any of the footage.
“That’s the job you wan
t Meg, your fourteen-year-old daughter, working at? The one your son is constantly posting things online for?” His voice had razor-sharp barbs around every word. “But a supervised party downtown is out of the question?”
“That isn’t fair, John.” Amelia was getting angrier by the minute.
“Of course it isn’t. It’s all about what you think is best. Well, I think Adam deserves a party like all the other kids have.”
Amelia rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and wondered what other kids his age were having parties in hotels in the heart of the city. Certainly none of the kids he associated with.
“John, I’m not arguing with you. You know how I feel. Now, I’m going downstairs to have a nice meal that your children prepared for me. Good-bye, John.”
He was still saying something as Amelia hung up the phone. He rang her back, but she silenced her ringtone and left the device on her bed as she went downstairs. If John had seen the news about Dana Foster on television, why didn’t he see how precious life was and how things could change for the worse in a matter of seconds? Instead he insisted on arguing over parties and his girlfriend’s crazy ideas.
“I hope the table is set because I’m hungry,” she yelled down the stairs as she approached.
“Come on, Mom. We’re just about done,” Meg replied.
That night, they ate dinner together in the tiny kitchen. Meg talked about her friend Katherine and some girls and some boys and teachers and a million other things in her life, all in the span of about five minutes. Adam ate pensively and only spoke to add a joke or tease his sister. It was a lovely time.
Amelia offered to clean the kitchen for the kids in return for such a nice spread. She thought they were getting so big so fast.
Maybe Adam should have a fancy party. He wasn’t that adorable little boy who would hang on her side and hold her hand in the parking lot anymore. He was almost a man. Heck, in some cultures he was a man. She couldn’t decide what to do for his birthday that was still five months away.
Instead, Amelia wondered about Dana Foster’s nemesis, The Crier, aka Francine McManahan. What were her real thoughts about the whole situation? She did act funny.
Recreating the scene in her head, Amelia remembered the tearful words The Crier had exchanged with her posse during Darcy Miller’s bridal shower.
While the kids had retreated to their rooms to tackle homework, Amelia pulled out the telephone book. It was old-fashioned, but she thought she’d see if Francine McManahan was listed.
She couldn’t be sure, but there was an F. McManahan listed in the gentrified neighborhood called Buck Town.
Chapter Eleven
“I don’t know, Lila. Something about that girl’s behavior screamed guilty.” Amelia told Lila her hunch about Francine. “I’m not saying I’m one hundred percent right, but I think that maybe in a fit of rage, maybe under the influence of alcohol, maybe when her normal inhibitions were disabled, she let loose on the girl in a way she can’t take back.”
“Really?” Lila asked, licking some frosting from her fingers before she went to the sink to wash them.
“I’m just guessing. But it is so strange that in the middle of a crowded party with not only guests walking around but also staff and extras like us, that nobody saw anything.”
“Yeah, I know. That is more than a person can be expected to swallow.”
“That means someone at that party had to see something, and they aren’t telling.” Amelia wiped the tip of her nose with the top of her hand, getting flour on it as usual. “Did I tell you I’ve got a new recipe I’m going to try?”
“No.” Lila smiled. “What is it?”
“Orange brandy cupcakes.” Amelia proudly lifted her chin.
“That sounds amazing,” Lila encouraged.
“Yes, I thought I’d add a little grown-up flavor to them. I got the idea at the shower, believe it or not. Being at the bar and seeing all those intoxicated ladies having such a good time until…well, you know.”
“The grisly homicide. Yeah. That does have a way of putting a damper on things. Did John have anything to say about it?”
“The cupcakes or the murder?”
Lila had learned quickly over the past several weeks that Amelia and John had some major differences in their perception of things that made the road to disagreements that much easier. She laughed at Amelia’s sarcasm.
“The murder.”
“You know, nothing different than usual. It’s weird. When we were still married, he had no problem leaving the kids and me for days at a time without a security system. Of course we never had a gun in the house. The kids walked to and from the bus stop alone. Now, all of a sudden, he’s so concerned about their safety he insists that Meg can’t work with me. He makes sarcastic comments about it all the time.” Amelia flopped down on the chair next to the counter where they prepared the raw cupcakes.
“Normally, if he were still your husband, I’d say do whatever you have to to make peace in the house. Sometimes that requires compromise and losing out a little.” Lila smiled her gap-toothed grin at Amelia. “But the SOB left. He has no idea anymore who Meg is because he’s not seeing her grow a little more every day. He only sees a little snapshot of her on every other weekend.”
“Did I tell you he told Adam he could have a birthday party at the Windham downtown?”
Lila’s drawn-on brown eyebrows shot up into the middle of her forehead.
“Really?”
Amelia repeated the story of her discussion with Adam during the bridal shower and how the whole idea was put in the boy’s head.
“I’m trying not to blame Jennifer, Lila. Really, I am. She isn’t the one who cheated. John is. She just… saw an opportunity, I guess.” Amelia looked down at the floor. “But I don’t want her putting in her two cents when it comes to the kids. Is that wrong? Am I being selfish or jealous?”
“No. She’s just a kid herself. She doesn’t know what she doesn’t know. She’s talking from the perspective of being a teenager, not raising one.”
“Yes, that’s it.” Amelia pointed her finger at Lila while nodding her head. “But what do I do? I’ll have to break Adam’s heart. Like the kids haven’t suffered enough. It’s just that, starting him off with a party like that, what happens when he turns eighteen, then twenty-one? What is he going to want then?”
“I’d stick to my guns if I were you, Amelia. The thing to do is come up with a better alternative that both John and you can get behind. Pretend he’s still your husband when it comes to issues with the kids. That might help.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes and looked at Lila lovingly.
“That’s excellent advice, Lila. Gosh, I just don’t know what I’d do without you. Where were you when I was getting served divorce papers?”
“Excuse me, ladies,” came the deep, familiar voice from the back of the truck. It was Detective Walishovsky.
“Dan, hi. What are you doing here?” Amelia asked, waving him in. He had to stand with his head bent down slightly in order to fit in the low-ceilinged space. Amelia felt Lila’s eyes on her and just knew she was smiling that sly smile she gave her whenever the detective came around.
“It’s official business. I was wondering, Amelia, if I could talk to you alone for a moment.”
“Sure.” She looked at Lila, who nodded her head and stood up, busying herself with folding and stacking more paper boats for the cupcakes and replacing the napkins while Amelia stepped off the truck with Dan.
“What can I help you with, Dan?”
“Actually, I just wanted to stop by and see how things were going. I felt bad how things ended the other night and…”
“My gosh, Dan, do you really think I gave it a second thought?” Amelia placed her hand gently on his arm. “You’ve got a job I couldn’t begin to understand and a relationship with the other officers I’m totally clueless about. I just hope you won’t hold it against a local yokel like me.”
She blinked, looking up at him. The br
ight-blue sky, a rare thing in Oregon, was making her squint.
Dan looked down at her, and just the right corner of his mouth curled up.
“You are something special, Amelia.” He looked at his watch.
“Has anything more come up in the case? Any leads?” Amelia looked at him curiously. She was sure he had talked to Tabitha Miller and Rusty. She wondered if Rusty had told him what he had told her about Dana’s relationship with her uncle.
“We’ve got dozens of leads. Seems Miss Lila was right. We’ve found plenty of people with a motive. But they either weren’t at the party or they were and could have someone testify to seeing them at all times. We’ve interviewed almost everyone.”
“Almost everyone?”
“Yeah, there are two bridesmaids. The first is Francine McManahan. She's dodging us. The other is Sondra Collins, a police officer. She will probably say she was with Darcy the entire time. Then there is Mrs. O’Toole, who is at least two days older than Methuselah. It’s a real puzzle.”
“I’ll bet.” Amelia kept her thoughts to herself about Francine. She wanted to check things out on her own. Plus, no matter what Dan said, he’d wait to interview Sondra until all other options were exhausted. She knew this because if it was someone close to her, she’d do the same thing. “Would you like a cupcake for the road, Dan? You’re looking a little malnourished.”
“You know I can’t say no. What’s the flavor of the day?”
“Lemon poppy seed with a hint of almond.” Amelia ran into the truck and quickly emerged with one of the giant cupcakes.
“You keep this up, Amelia, and you’re going to make me a very fat man.” He patted his stomach again, and Amelia was sure there was nothing but muscle there.
“So, just run a few extra laps at the gym,” she joked as Dan left.
“Okay, what’s the story?” Lila handed some change back to their latest customer, smiling kindly. “Come back and see us again.” She waved good-bye then turned to face Amelia.
“He said they’ve got no leads. They interviewed everyone but, get this, Mrs. O’Toole, one of the female police officers who was there, and, hold on to yourself…Francine McManahan.”
