by Nicole Ellis
“We both do,” I said. “Four-year-old boys. They’re at preschool now.”
“Oh.” She sniffed. “I’m not planning on putting my children into school until they’re in kindergarten. I feel like when you have young kids, you should be the one raising them, not having strangers do so.”
“Oh, really,” Desi said politely. “Our boys love their preschool.”
“I’m sure they do,” the woman said. “It’s probably a great option if you have to work.”
“Uh huh.” I turned to Desi. “Speaking of which, I need to get back to work.”
She nodded. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” the woman said, wheeling her daughter around.
Desi and I walked back to the BeansTalk with the babies.
“That’s what I mean about the stay-at-home moms. They’re always so smug,” I said as I struggled to push Ella’s stroller over a tree root.
Desi shrugged. “Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.”
“I guess.” I was quiet for a moment. I’d been the stay-at-home mom for a few years and had only recently gone back into the workforce. “I may be a little sensitive about it because I worry about Adam’s practice not taking off the way we thought it would.”
She stopped at a crosswalk. “Is everything ok? Adam hasn’t said anything to me about things not going well at work.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I think it will be fine. It takes a while to build up a client base. It’s just that I’ve turned over most of the bills to Adam and it makes me a little paranoid when I don’t have control over all of our finances. Plus, I do worry about Mikey being at preschool for so long every day.”
She laughed and pushed the stroller across the street. “Those boys love it there. I can barely drag Anthony away from his friends when I come to pick him up. You’re worrying about nothing.”
“I know. Mikey is like that too.” Was I letting that other mom get to me? I hated second-guessing myself and the choices we’d made for our kids. I knew Mikey loved his school and was probably much happier there than being bored at home with me, but still, there was always that niggling doubt.
“Well, this is me,” Desi said in front of the café. “I’ll call you later, ok?”
“Talk to you later.” I continued on with Ella to the Boathouse, where Beth would watch her while I finished up some important work. I had a proposal to write up for a company party and several suppliers to call before the end of the day. Life was full of choices and, for now, working at the Boathouse was where I needed to be, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t raising my kids.
7
Angela was a brilliant artist and creative, but she was a hard act to follow and these photos of previous haunted houses were all I had to work with. Great. I threw them down and they cascaded out across the surface of my desk. I leaned forward, resting my head on my hands.
With Angela out of commission, I was on my own for planning the haunted house. I hoped they’d release her soon, but the court system was refusing to allow her out on bail. She’d played her design ideas close to her chest and now it was coming back to bite us both. I was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be happy if we copied things that had been done before. Someone knocked lightly on my half-closed door. I looked up and sighed.
“That bad?” Desi asked, raising her eyebrows. A faint aroma of something sweet drifted through the air. I hoped she’d brought me something from the café and that she wasn’t playing an evil trick on me by wearing a new sugar-scented perfume.
I grimaced. “Yes. Angela hadn’t given me her designs yet, if she even planned to do so. She’s rather secretive about things. Now, I find myself planning a haunted house on my own.”
“Ooh.” Desi motioned to the pictures. “Can’t you copy what she did before?”
I nodded. “I can, but I’m sure when she’s released she’ll just change everything I’ve already done. I’m not sure it makes sense to start decorating before she’s out.”
“But what if they don’t let her out anytime soon?” Desi reached into her bag and removed a paper sack bearing the name of her café.
My mouth watered. Breakfast had been too long ago. “They have to, right? I mean, what evidence do they have to hold her?”
Desi shrugged. “According to what the police released to the press, she’d made threats to Mindy and was constantly berating her.”
“That doesn’t seem like enough to hold her. While maybe it should be, it’s not a crime to be mean.” I gathered up the photos and returned them to a neat stack in the corner of my desk.
“No, but Mindy was found dead at Angela’s house. That’s pretty damning on its own.” She moved slightly and the bag she was holding crackled.
“I guess.” I focused in on her. “So what’s up? I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit.”
“Well …” Desi said.
“Oh no.” This was eerily similar to how our conversation had gone before she roped me into joining the MUMs group with her. “What is it now? An all-women’s gym class? A Save the Peacocks rally?”
She put her hands on her hips and made a face at me. “No. I don’t even like peacocks. They’re always strutting around like they own everything.” She came over to my desk and sat down opposite me, placing the sack on the desk in front of me. “I was hoping you would come with me to Mindy’s funeral.”
“Uh.” I leaned back in my chair, not removing my eyes from the bag. I was starving, but I wasn’t sure if taking the pastry offering meant I’d accepted her request. “I never even met the woman—well, not while she was alive.” The image of a very dead woman flashed into my mind.
“Please? I feel like I should go. I never met her in person either, but I corresponded with her a couple of times about treasurer stuff. It seems disrespectful not to go.”
“So why do you need me to go with you?”
Desi squirmed in her seat. “I don’t know many of the other people there and funerals always make me feel weird. It would be nice to have someone to go with.”
I stared at her and grabbed for the bag. It crackled as I opened it and looked inside. An iced brownie with most of its frosting still intact smiled up at me. My mouth salivated and I closed the bag and placed it securely in my desk drawer. Chocolate was always a winner with me, and Desi knew it.
“When is it?”
She glanced down at my desk and then peeked up at me. “Today at three o’clock.”
“Today?” I looked at my computer, a sinking feeling rushing through me. I still had a lot to do and I needed to pick Ella up by two because our babysitter had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon. “I can’t. I have to get Ella and then pick up Mikey too a little later.”
She beamed at me. “I already asked Mom. She said she’d pick them both up. Any other objections?”
She had me. I supposed I could finish any work I had leftover that evening.
“Fine. I’ll go. But you really owe me after this. I’m supposed to bring four dozen chocolate chip cookies to the Busy Bees Fall Festival. If I go with you, you’re making them.”
A smile broke out on her face. “Deal. And I won’t even tell Nancy that you didn’t bake them yourself. You can let her think you slaved over a hot oven for them.” She stood. “Thanks, Jill! I’ll see you at two p.m., ok?”
I shook my head and grinned. Why did I always let Desi convince me to do these things with her? Ok, she was my sister-in-law and my best friend, but still. Then again, I’d dragged her into plenty of situations of my own and she’d always followed loyally. Plus, she was going to do my baking for the Fall Festival. That was a big item to check off of my list.
“Yes. I’ll see you then.” I shooed her to the door with the back of my hand. “Now go, I’ve got a lot of work to do before then.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, saluting me. “Thanks, Jill!” She hurried out the door, leaving me to stare forlornly at the photos once more.
If only I could convince someone to take care
of this for me. I was getting to be a pro at helping brides decide on wedding decor, but I was out of my element when it came to tombstones and werewolves. My idea of Halloween decor was to stick a carved pumpkin on our front porch and hope no neighborhood kids smashed it against my door. I gobbled up the brownie and slugged down some cold coffee. Hopefully the sugar and caffeine would inspire creativity.
I got up to get some air, walking down the hallway past Beth’s office. She was on the phone, so I continued on, out to the deck overlooking Puget Sound. We’d brought our floating docks in already in preparation for winter and the deck looked small without them attached. A speed boat zipped across the water, churning up the waves behind it and cutting through the peaceful day with its obnoxiously loud motor. Just as soon as it had come by though, it was gone and the waters were calm again.
The sun was shining, but it provided little warmth. A brisk breeze came off the water, making me wish I’d thrown my coat on before I’d come out. I crossed the wooden planks to the railing and leaned against it, breathing deeply of the salt air. The cool temperatures made my nose drip, but they also brought some clarity. I grabbed a Kleenex from my sweater pocket and dabbed at my nose.
I’d figure this out—I always did. Just last month, I had solved a murder and a jewel heist on the same day I managed the Labor Day celebration for my friend Leah’s resort. The haunted house might not be as fabulous as something that Angela came up with, but using the photos of her previous haunted house designs, I should be able to cobble something together that would entertain the crowd. And if all else failed, there was always grape eyeballs and spaghetti brains for kids to reach into, right?
8
By afternoon, the weather had turned even colder and I shivered despite the parka I wore over the black dress that I’d come to associate with funerals. Leaves crunched under the heels of my low black pumps and a breeze ruffled the trees and the thin material of my dress.
“How did I let you talk me into this?” I grumbled to Desi as we walked across the parking lot to the church together.
“Four dozen chocolate cookies, remember?” She raised her eyebrows at me.
“Yeah, yeah.” I needed to keep reminding myself to keep my eye on the prize. While I enjoyed cooking, I wasn’t much on baking, preferring to leave that to my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, who were amazing bakers.
A group of mourners clad in dark colors made their way into the church. Inside, they milled around, viewing a collection of photographs of Mindy. Judging by the images of her, she had been a very serious woman, but the number of people gathered for her funeral indicated that she’d had many friends. I noticed a few photos of her with a teenage girl and I realized I knew very little about her.
Did she have a family? I suddenly felt horrible for the callous attitude I’d had about going to her funeral. She was involved in MUMs, so it seemed likely that she did have children. She was probably someone’s mother, someone’s wife. She deserved my respect, even if I hadn’t known her in life. I walked closer to a photo of Mindy set up on an easel.
Desi touched my arm and peered into my face. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked.
She gave me a quizzical look, but didn’t comment. “Let’s get inside. I think the pews are starting to fill up.”
I nodded and followed her into the church’s sanctuary. We slid to the far side of a pew in the back of the room, which allowed me to see the rest of the mourners. A closed casket was centered in front of the stage, with a bouquet of red and white roses perched on the top. Other flower arrangements were scattered throughout the room, perfuming the air with a sickly-sweet smell.
A minister approached the podium to the left of the casket. With a somber expression on his face, he addressed the mourners. The microphone crackled as he spoke.
“Thank you all for coming today as we say farewell to one of our flock, Mindy Danvers.” He cast a glance at the casket. “She was a devoted member of the church and I know everyone will miss her dearly.”
A few people in the pews nodded, murmuring among themselves. A dark-haired man in the pew across the aisle from us and two rows up stared at the casket, not speaking to those on either side of him.
I grabbed Desi’s arm and whispered, “Isn’t that Drew, Angela’s husband?”
She squinted at the man and nodded. “I think so but I can’t tell for sure. If it is him, what is he doing here?”
“I don’t know. Angela did say that Mindy came over to their house sometimes, so maybe they were friends. At the very least, he knew her through Angela.” I leaned forward to get a better look at the man, but there were too many people in the way for me to tell for sure if it was Drew.
“Oh, right. That makes sense. Still kind of weird though since his wife is accused of murdering her.” She smoothed out her skirt and focused her attention on the man who was currently speaking about how wonderful Mindy had been.
Several people gave eulogies, then a woman in her twenties came up to the podium—the woman I’d seen in the photographs of her as a teenager with Mindy.
She smiled meekly at the audience, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“Thank you for coming. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Stacey Stevens, Mindy’s daughter. My mother would have loved to see all of her friends and family here.” She smiled again as she turned her head to view everyone in the crowd, but the smile faltered as her gaze landed on a man near the front of the church.
I nudged Desi. “What is that all about?”
“I don’t know,” she hissed. “I barely knew Mindy, much less her daughter.”
A woman who wore her hair up in a tight bun in front of us turned and glared. We quieted and sat up straighter. Soon, the funeral proceedings were over and we trudged out of the sanctuary into a reception room containing tables laden with coffee and butter cookies.
“Should we pay our respects to her daughter?” I was never sure what the etiquette was for attending the funeral of someone you barely knew.
Desi took a deep breath. “I probably should.” She pulled on my arm and we approached Mindy’s daughter.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Desi said.
The woman pressed her lips together, as if trying not to cry. “Thank you.” She looked from Desi to me. “How did you know my mother?”
“We recently joined a local MUMs group and I volunteered to be the treasurer.” Desi looked like she was fighting for something to say about Mindy. “Your mother was very conscientious about her job.”
“Thank you. She would have appreciated you saying so.” She smiled at us and stuck out her hand. “I’m Stacey Stevens.”
“Nice to meet you,” Desi said. “Desi Torres.”
I held out my hand as well. “I’m Jill Andrews. I didn’t know your mother well, but I’m sure she’s the reason for how smoothly our MUMs group runs.”
Stacey nodded. Another mourner approached her and she turned to talk with them. We made our way to the refreshments table, each grabbing a cup of coffee. We stood there, sipping our coffee for a few minutes, viewing the crowd.
“I hope there are this many people at my funeral,” Desi said.
“Me too. She must have been well-liked.” I caught sight of Drew Laveaux. “That is Drew. I’m going to go say hi to him. I hope he has some good news about when Angela will be released.”
“I’ll come too.” Desi and I made our way through the crowd toward Drew, who was now close to the exterior door. My feet padded softly on the patterned carpet as I hurried as fast as I could in my dress shoes.
“Drew,” I called out softly, not wanting to shout in front of all of the people behind me. He didn’t turn around and we followed him out to the parking lot.
“Drew,” I said again. This time, he stopped.
He cocked his head to the side.
“Jill—from the Boathouse. I’m working with Angela on the haunted house.” I zipped up my coat to keep out the cold.
Reco
gnition dawned on his face. “Ah. Of course.” He focused on Desi. “You were there that day too.” His expression darkened.
She nodded. “I was.”
“I was hoping you might know if Angela will be released soon,” I said.
He shook his head. “No. They haven’t given me a release date. Her lawyer says it might not be until the arraignment in a few days.”
“That’s awful,” Desi said. “I can’t believe they think she did it.”
“Me neither.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared up at the leafless branches of a maple tree. “I figured I should pay my respects to Mindy though. I know Angela would want that.”
“Did you know her well? Were she and Angela close?” Desi asked.
“No, not well, but she was over at our house every so often.” He frowned. “Angela sometimes needed her help on the weekends.” He quickly added. “But they were good friends.”
Right. Friends. Of course she needed Mindy’s help on the weekend. Off hours didn’t seem to matter much to Angela. I didn’t say that out loud though. Instead, I just nodded.
“I’m sure Angela will miss her friend.” Maybe it was true. Maybe she and Mindy had actually been friends, but I had my doubts. I couldn’t picture what it would be like to be friends with Angela Laveaux.
“She will.” He was quiet, staring off into the empty branches again. “Well, I’d better get home.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket, jingling them against each other.
“Of course,” I murmured. Wait, this was my chance to ask him if Angela had written her haunted house plans down anywhere. “I’m sorry to ask, but do you know if Angela had the designs for this year’s haunted house somewhere? Without her guidance, I’m a little lost.”
He thought about it. “I haven’t seen any, but I haven’t been in her studio at our house lately either. You’re welcome to come by the house to look for them.”
