Importance of Being Urnest

by Sandra Balzo

  ‘And tried to frame us,’ Sarah added, ‘by stashing the case from the pillow that was used to smother her in our storeroom.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Vickie said, hand to her throat. ‘I didn’t know about that, either. He asked me a lot of things about you, Maggy. You have to get leverage on people, he said, because you never know when you’ll need it.’

  ‘Did he ask about me?’ Sarah asked, looking a little miffed.

  ‘No. And I didn’t tell him any—’ Vickie was trying to stand. The chair beneath her was wet.

  ‘Call nine-one-one!’ I yelled.

  Pavlik joined Father Jim in catching her as Vickie toppled to the floor.

  THIRTY

  ‘Botox.’ Pavlik was shaking his head. ‘Who knew?’

  We were sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, Frank at our feet and wine, yet again, in our hands.

  ‘Vickie’s drug of choice,’ I said, ‘and it almost killed her.’

  ‘Good thing the good doctor, Doctor Goode, was there.’

  ‘You didn’t really say that.’

  ‘I did.’ He pulled me toward him. ‘And I’m deeply ashamed.’

  ‘If you’re next line is “don’t you want to punish me?” it’s over between us.’

  ‘Then I won’t.’ He rested his chin on my head. ‘Now tell me about this pillowcase.’

  When I’d called Pavlik from the shop, inviting him and the driver of his choice to my impromptu ‘round up the suspects’ party, I knew I’d have to own up to having the pillowcase. And, more importantly, to not telling him I had the pillowcase.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I knew that if I did, you’d have to relay it your guys.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  I hesitated. ‘That you’d be honor-bound to let them know?’

  ‘Yes, and you were also probably right not to tell me. It would have made me crazy, but the only thing I could do, in good conscience, I wouldn’t have wanted to do.’

  ‘Rat on your sweetie?’

  ‘Rat on my sweetie.’ He kissed the top of my head.

  ‘I’m still not sure why Jack went to the trouble of trying to frame me.’

  Pavlik shrugged. ‘The man’s a con. He plays all angles and he prepares to play all angles.’

  ‘I was just another angle?’

  ‘And maybe somebody new to blackmail.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Or me. If I knew about the pillowcase, for example, and didn’t pass it on.’

  ‘Sheesh, I’m glad I didn’t tell you then.’ I snuggled down under his arm and then sat right back up. ‘You know, I bet he was the one who snagged my bells. That first day we laid eyes on the man at Uncommon Grounds I remember something was jingling in his pocket as he went down the porch steps. I assumed they were keys. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the sound of my own bells.’

  Pavlik wasn’t following. ‘Your bells?’

  ‘On UG’s doors. First the ones from the trackside door were missing, then the front.’

  ‘Maybe somebody got sick of hearing them all day, every day. Have you canvassed your neighbors?’

  ‘I’m serious,’ I said, turning to face him. ‘If Jack played all the angles and prepared for all eventualities, like you say, he might have figured he’d have a reason to sneak into the shop. Which he ultimately did, to plant the pillowcase. Has the lab finished with it?’

  ‘They have, but there was nothing on it beyond what you’d expect on a pillow.’

  ‘Celeste’s hair, lipstick. Any DNA?’

  ‘We think so, though that will take more time. We have samples from the autopsy, which we can match with samples from her room and inside the wigs to make an identification.’

  ‘Something you can’t do for poor Nancy. What in the world was Hannah thinking?’

  ‘It’s fraud but thankfully it’s not murder. I prefer to save that charge for Jack Andersen.’

  ‘Along with money laundering through a church. He’s worse than his brother, in my book.’

  ‘I don’t disagree.’

  ‘Even though his brother shot you?’

  ‘At least I knew what I was up against. Jack Andersen preys on people. He’s a snake.’

  ‘You should have seen him at the funeral, pretending he was confused about who was Nancy and who was Celeste. To Hannah, of course.’

  ‘The woman he was blackmailing about the identity switch.’

  ‘Which he only knew about because he’d killed Nancy that night, not Celeste. The man had the nerve to go to his victim’s funeral and taunt Hannah. No wonder she was desperate.’

  ‘I’m not sure Hannah deserves your pity,’ Pavlik said.

  ‘Oh, she’s not getting that,’ I said. ‘I’m just trying to understand.’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘When you understand evil it’s too easy to become it.’

  ‘Ooh, nice. Original?’

  Pavlik squinted, trying to remember. ‘Probably an old movie?’

  ‘Old movies and books were the inspiration for my rounding up the suspects, you know.’

  ‘To be fair, you didn’t really need to round them up,’ Pavlik pointed out. ‘They show up at your place every Sunday morning.’

  ‘True, but this was Monday. And speaking of showing up at my place, I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘Me, too, although the circumstances could have been better.’

  ‘Like not getting shot?’

  ‘For one.’

  I knew he was also thinking about Al Taylor and Pete Hartsfield.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘About the deaths of Al and Pete, of course. But also about your being placed on leave. It’s been a tough week for you and it’s not fair.’

  He pulled me down to him and kissed me. ‘Thank you. In one bit of good news, pending medical clearance from the good doctor—’

  ‘Don’t say it!’ I held up a warning finger.

  ‘Anyway, I have an appointment tomorrow. If all goes well I should be able to go back to work. And my house.’

  I felt an unexpected twinge. ‘But I’d grown accustomed to your face on the pillow next to me each morning.’

  ‘If it was this morning, that was Frank. I was in the bathroom. Right, Frank?’

  Frank grunted agreement.

  ‘OK,’ I said, trying to scoot up again. ‘But what I’m trying to say is … that I like living with you. And maybe your idea of our getting married isn’t too crazy.’

  ‘That may be the worst acceptance of a proposal I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘I know. Sorry. Not that we have to do it right now, you understand.’

  ‘You just said yes. Are you getting cold feet already?’

  ‘You press your jeans,’ I blurted out. ‘And starch them.’

  ‘I do,’ Pavlik said. ‘Old habit from the military and pressing my dress uniforms. I kind of enjoy it.’

  ‘But they’re jeans.’

  ‘The bottom hem gets all bent. Doesn’t that bother you?’

  I thought about it. ‘No.’

  ‘Well, it does me. And as long as I have the iron out I figure I might as well do the rest.’ He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me against his chest. ‘Is this a deal breaker?’

  I laughed. ‘Honestly, I find it kind of endearing. It’s just … I guess I’m afraid I won’t measure up. I mean, if your jeans have to be perfect—’

  ‘Will I iron you when you get wrinkled?’ He settled his chin on the top of my head. ‘No. Nor will I suggest Botox. Personally, I’m looking forward to getting old and wrinkly together.’

  What does a girl say to that?

  ‘We did pretty well living together,’ Pavlik continued. ‘So, let’s continue taking baby steps. For example, I’d like you to meet my parents.’

  ‘What?’ My head snapped up, smacking him in the chin. The word ‘baby’ had nearly freaked me out but meeting the parents was scary, too.

  ‘Damn,’ he said, rubbing it. ‘You could just say no.’

  ‘No?�
�� I tried.

  Pavlik’s face fell.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want to meet them,’ I pleaded. ‘It’s just kind of … abrupt.’

  ‘Abrupt? We’ve been dating for two years, I’ve lived here for a week, I’ve proposed and you’ve accepted. We’ve survived the pressed jeans crisis. How much longer do you think we should wait?’

  He had a point. ‘But don’t they live in Chicago?’

  ‘Yes. An insurmountable ninety-minute drive.’

  I sighed. ‘OK, I know I’m being silly but it sounds so … formal. Meeting the parents.’

  Pavlik gathered me back against him. ‘Maggy, I know you’ve been skittish about getting married and I respect that. But we’re both adults – it’s not like we need their permission to get married or not to get married. I just … well, I just want you to meet my parents.’

  ‘You haven’t met mine,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Your parents are dead.’

  There was that.

  Even so, it didn’t seem fair for him to get off so easily. I opened my mouth to a put up more of a fight but realized I was being silly. From all accounts – which meant, essentially, Pavlik – his parents were nice people.

  ‘Fine. Why don’t you find a date that works for them and we’ll go down and have dinner.’ Ninety-minute drive there, two-hour dinner, ninety-minute drive back and we’d be done.

  ‘I have a better idea,’ he said, kissing the top of my head. ‘How about I book a room in the Lakeshore East area for next weekend. Maybe the Blu or the Sofitel. We can have dinner with my folks on Saturday night, and then we’ll have the rest of the weekend to ourselves.’

  I perked up. I did love Chicago. Museums, parks, Michigan Avenue, me and Pavlik alone in a hotel room. What’s not to like?

  ‘Your parents wouldn’t expect us to stay with them?’ It had been a requirement with Ted’s parents, which meant sleeping in twin beds in his childhood room when we were married and on opposite ends of the house before that.

  Apparently it never occurred to them that if we were looking to fornicate we’d more easily be able to do it at home.

  ‘My parents?’ Pavlik said, eyebrows raised. ‘No way. They’ve lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the fortieth floor of the Randolph since the building was built in the sixties. Once I was gone they turned my room into an office just so they can’t have guests.’

  My kind of people. I cranked my head around and up so I could see his face. ‘And that includes you?’

  ‘Especially me.’ Pavlik grinned. ‘I love my folks and they love me, but as adults we do not cohabitate. Besides.’ He nuzzled me in the neck. ‘There’s just something about hotel rooms.’

  ‘Room service?’ I murmured.

  He lifted his head. ‘Yeah, that’s it.’