Marriage Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story (A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery)

by Susan Santangelo

  “You didn’t see Marlee’s face last night,” I said. “And she insisted that Jenny take her profile information off the wedding blog, and Facebook, right away. She made a big deal out of it.”

  “If you want to know what I think, Carol,” Mary Alice said, “here goes. I think you’re looking for ways to find fault with your new daughter-in- law. You’re miffed because your darling son had the nerve to elope and not include you, and Jim, in his wedding plans.

  “No, hear me out,” she said as I opened my mouth to speak. “I know you don’t see the situation this way, but as someone outside the family, who’s known you practically forever, I know how your mind works.”

  “I agree with Mary Alice,” Claire said. “You’d better be careful what you say about Marlee, Carol. You don’t want to alienate Mike.”

  “All I want is for Marlee to be part of our family,” I said. “I’m not criticizing her. I just want to get to know her, that’s all.”

  “Maybe if you were a little more welcoming, you would get to know her,” Claire said.

  Ouch. That hurt.

  I started to defend myself, but never got the chance. The three of us were startled by banging on the front door, followed by the insistent ringing of the door bell. Then a familiar voice.

  “I know you’re home, Mary Alice. And I know Carol and Claire are with you because I see their cars in your driveway. Let me in. This instant. I can’t wait to see your faces when I tell you my news!”

  Rats. It was Nancy.

  Chapter 24

  Men may come, and men may go.

  But girlfriends are forever.

  I wanted to run and hide in Mary Alice’s bathroom, but Claire wouldn’t let me. “I still don’t know what I’m going to say to her,” I wailed. “Knowing Nancy, you may not have to say much,” Claire said. “She won’t let you.”

  Nancy swept into the kitchen, impeccably groomed as always, trailed by Mary Alice, who was clearly having her hostess genes stretched to the max.

  Bestowing kisses on each of us in turn – including Lucy and Ethel, who had roused themselves from their nap to greet one of their other favorite humans – Nancy had a glow about her that was, well, luminous. “Well, don’t you look glamorous,” Claire said. “I hear you have a hot date tonight. Deanna did a fabulous job on your hair.” She shot me a warning glass, which translated to, Don’t say anything yet. Let Nancy do the talking.

  Nancy fluffed her hair and admired her brand new manicure. “I do look good, don’t I? I’m torn between two dates, and I don’t know which one to choose.

  “I know. I’ll flip a coin. If it comes up heads, I’ll go out with Linus. He’s a college professor I met on Dream Dates. He seems like a really nice guy. He wants to take me to a brand new steak house in Stamford.

  “Or…tails, I drive to the Barnstable House of Correction on Cape

  Cod and have dinner with Bob, who’s being held because he’s suspected of murdering his girlfriend. I thought you three could help me make up my mind.”

  Ouch. Thanks to your big mouth, Bob Green is now in jail accused of murder. You were stupid if it didn’t occur to you that he’d be arrested. Nice going, Carol.

  “You know what happened on Nantucket,” I said. Not a brilliant observation, but the only one I could come up with on such short notice. “I know,” Nancy answered. “And I also know that I actually met Tiffani…” she spat out the name “when I was with you and Jenny at the wedding show and you didn’t tell me….” I started to speak but she raised her hand to silence me. “I understand why you didn’t say anything. And

  I forgive you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I think. After all, Nancy, you did crash Jenny’s appointment at Cinderella Weddings,” I reminded her. I heard Mary Alice – or, was it Claire? – take a sharp breath. A clear signal to me to go easy.

  Which, of course, I ignored.

  “Well, I did take care of Jenny when you came home from the hospital after giving birth and you were so tired you could hardly hold your head up, much less nurse her,” Nancy retorted. “In case you’ve forgotten. I think that gives me the right to be involved when she’s planning her wedding.

  “Jenny and I are also Facebook friends, in case you didn’t know that. And she invited me to be part of her wedding blog. So I’ve been up to date on what’s been going on about the wedding. Well, some of it, anyway. I certainly didn’t know about Jenny and Mark’s wedding planner being the same person who was breaking up my marriage. I’m sure she didn’t tell me because she wanted to spare my feelings.”

  She gave me a withering look, implying once again – in case I didn’t get the message before – that it had been my responsibility to tell her about Tiffani’s identity. Even though she’d already forgiven me. Sort of.

  I bit my lip. After all, I was Jenny’s mother, and I was barely involved in planning the wedding. What made Nancy think she could play the role of Mother Number Two? And I wasn’t Jenny’s Facebook friend, nor did I have access to her so-called wedding blog.

  Truth to tell, I did create a Facebook profile several months ago, when I was trying to figure out why my errant son was ignoring my (persistent but loving) phone calls and (even more persistent but loving) e-mails. I managed to open up the lines of communication through Facebook.

  I hadn’t checked my page in a while. In fact, I wasn’t sure I remembered my password.

  What if I‘d received a “friend” request from Jenny and ignored it? That would be terrible! I decided I’d better get back on Facebook a.s.a.p.

  By the way, I wasn’t selfish enough to hope that, with Tiffani’s death, I’d now be playing a larger role in the wedding planning. Although, I have to confess the thought did cross my mind. Briefly.

  Claire blew out a breath. “I think we’re going off the point here. Right now, planning a wedding is the least of what has to be dealt with.” Nancy flashed her a grin. “Spoken like the wife of a lawyer,” she said. “And you don’t have to worry about me begging Larry to represent Bob. I know Larry’s a great lawyer, but I also know that he’s not licensed to practice in Massachusetts.”

  Claire looked surprised. “How do you know that? I’m his wife, and I didn’t know that.”

  “Because I already called him,” Nancy said, flushing slightly. “Just to get his opinion on how bad things could really get for Bob. And to see if he had a referral suggestion.”

  Her face fell. “Unfortunately, he didn’t have any names. So I guess good old Bob is on his own.”

  Mary Alice jumped in. “Nancy, surely you’re going to help him. Spending even one night in jail is a terrible experience.”

  “You believe Bob’s innocent, don’t you, Nancy?” asked Claire.

  “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Nancy answered. “When Bob called me last night and told me what had happened on Nantucket, at first I couldn’t even take it in. It was like he was speaking in another language.

  “And, of course, he kept crying over Tiffani’s death.”

  Her face took on a hard look I’d never seen before. “I bet if I was the one who’d died, he wouldn’t cry over me.’

  “You don’t mean that, Nancy. I know you don’t. You’re just angry,” I said.

  And probably scared.

  If she wasn’t, I sure as heck was. Because I had yet to tell Nancy about my involvement in this whole mess. I was positive that she didn’t know that part.

  “Nancy, I have something else I have to confess. Well, not confess, exactly. Just share. Tell you. Oh, rats.

  “Jim and were there, on Nantucket, to help plan Jenny and Mark’s wedding. Well,” I paused, trying to figure out the best way to tell my best friend that I’d ratted out her husband, “you know we were there. On Nantucket, I mean. But you don’t know all of it.”

  I knew I was babbling. But I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, rats,” I said again.

  “Carol? What are you trying to say? I know you were on Nantucket,” said Nancy. “Did you stay at the G
rey Gull Inn, too? Don’t tell me you saw Bob murder Tiffani.”

  “Stop interrupting Carol, Nancy. Let her talk,” said Claire with obvious impatience.

  “We all stayed at the Grey Gull Inn,” I continued. “I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Jim and I were staying in the older part of the inn, and there are no en suite bathrooms. The closest one was way down the hall. We’d had a lot of wine that night and…”

  “Carol, for heaven’s sake, what?” demanded Nancy. “You got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and…what?”

  “I saw someone at the bottom of the staircase. Oh, wait a minute, I didn’t tell any of you about the other death.”

  “What other death, Carol? Somebody else died that night, too?” Mary Alice asked. “You didn’t mention that. Nancy’s right. You’re really not making any sense.”

  I paused and took a measured breath. Then, another. I hope you’re all proud of me for my attempt to calm down. I do try to be rational whenever I think of it.

  “I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom at the Grey Gull Inn,” I began again. “That’s where we were staying on Nantucket,” I said to clarify.

  “Lord, Carol, you already told us that,” said Claire.

  “And I already knew where you were staying because it was on Jenny’s Facebook page,” Nancy added.

  Humph. I let that pass.

  “Tiffani was staying there, too,” I said. “There’s a dangerous staircase in that part of the inn, and almost two hundred years ago, a woman was found dead at the bottom of those stairs. It was ruled an accident, but, according to local lore, there was always suspicion that she was murdered. That’s the other death I was talking about.”

  I looked at my trio of friends. ““So, I got up to use the bathroom….” “You already said that, Carol,” said Nancy. “Again and again. We get it. Can you get to the point, please? Where does Bob come into this?”

  “I had to go very close to the staircase to get to the bathroom at the end of the hall, and I looked down,” I continued. “I saw a woman lying at the bottom at the staircase. She wasn’t moving. And she was wearing a wedding veil.

  “I thought it was Jenny. Tiffani had brought some sample veils for her to try. ”

  My eyes welled up and spilled over as I remembered that awful moment.

  “Oh, sweetie,” said Nancy, grabbing my hand. “You must have been frantic. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. What happened next?”

  “My heart was thudding so hard I thought I was going to faint,” I said. “I don’t remember ever being so scared in my life.

  “The next thing I remember,” I looked at Nancy, “is hearing someone crying in a corner of the lobby. It sounded like a man’s voice. The person came towards the woman, sobbing and saying how sorry he was. He called her by name. That’s when I realized it wasn’t Jenny at the bottom of the stairs. It was Tiffani.”

  “Thank God,” said Claire. I flashed her a grateful smile.

  “Then the man looked up, and I saw his face quite clearly. There was no doubt that it was Bob.”

  I took a deep breath, and added, “Bob had shown up to surprise Tiffani earlier that day, and she wasn’t happy to see him. In fact, she told him to leave. They had a huge fight in the lobby of the Grey Gull Inn. And I wasn’t the only one who saw it. Jim was with me, and JoAnn Wallace, one of the owners of the Grey Gull Inn, was there, too.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “There’s one more thing, Nancy. You’re going to hate me for this, but I had to tell the Nantucket police that I’d seen Bob bending over Tiffani’s dead body. The police forced me …” – ok, you all know I’m kind of stretching the truth here but please don’t let on – “they forced me to go to the police station the next morning and identify him as the person I saw in the lobby. They’d found him at the airport, trying to get on a plane back to the mainland. But I didn’t tell them about the argument he and Tiffani had earlier in the day. Thank God they didn’t ask me any questions about Tiffani and Bob’s relationship.”

  Yet. And I hoped they never would.

  “But I had to tell them he was at the Grey Gull Inn, Nancy. You see that, right? I’m so sorry. For everything.”

  There was complete silence from Nancy after I (finally) finished my story. I mean, no reaction at all. Time ticked by. The rest of us just sat there, waiting for her to say something.

  Tick. Tick. Tick. The silence was unnerving.

  Finally, Nancy started to laugh. Well, not laugh, exactly. More like, cackle.

  “You know, if I’d planned a punishment for Bob to pay him back for what he’s done to me, I don’t think I could have come up with anything this creative. Or harsh. He’s really suffering. I love it!”

  Mary Alice spoke up first. (Believe it or not, I was too shocked to speak.) “Nancy, how can you say that? He’s still your husband, for heaven’s sake. No matter what he’s done. And you don’t mean you wished Tiffani dead!”

  “Wanna bet?” Nancy asked. “The first few nights after Bob dumped me for Tiffani, I really did want her dead. Him, too, for that matter. Oh, don’t look so shocked and judgmental. If it happened to you, I bet you’d feel the same way.”

  I doubted it, but said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t be put to that particular test.

  “You’d better not let the police hear you say that,” Claire said. “You could be arrested, too.”

  “Don’t be silly, Claire,” Nancy said. “I wasn’t serious. I was just angry at Bob. In fact, I still am.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and we could all see how angry she was. And she wouldn’t let her anger go any time soon, if I knew Nancy. And, believe me, I knew her. Very well.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “I’ve decided to let Bob sit in jail for tonight,” Nancy said. “Maybe, for tomorrow night, too. Let him stew for a while. I’m going to keep my date with Linus tonight.

  “And when I’m good and ready, I’ll help Bob prove his innocence. With a little help from my friends.”

  She looked at me. “Especially you, Carol. You’ve already solved two cases that stumped the local police. I know you can figure out this one, too.”

  “But, Nancy, this is different,” I protested. “I’m actually a witness in this case. And this didn’t take place here in Fairport, where I have Mark to help me.” (Or the other way around.)

  “This one is on Nantucket, where I have no pull with the police at all.”

  Nancy waved her hand dismissively at my protests. “I know you’ll figure out a way to prove Bob is innocent, Carol. Who better than you? You were on the scene when it happened, and you know Bob. I’m sure it’ll be a piece of cake for you.

  “Now,” Nancy said, “will someone please get me a cup of coffee? And let’s talk about something else. Like my date tonight.”

  Chapter 25

  You won’t know how I feel until you’ve walked a mile in my saddle shoes.

  By silent agreement – the kind of instantaneous telepathy that only passes among the closest of friends – Mary Alice, Claire and I opted to go along with Nancy’s abrupt change of subject. After all, it was her husband in jail, not ours.

  If you don’t have the gift of close girlfriends, you may not understand this. And if you don’t have the gift of close girlfriends, you’re also missing out on one of the best things life has to offer.

  Mary Alice took over the conversation, following Nancy’s lead.

  “Are you sure this Linus guy is on the level?” she asked, pouring us all another cup of coffee from the large thermos Claire had brought from The Paperback Cafe. I took another gulp of caffeine and reminded myself I was way over my limit of two cups a day. On the other hand, I was way over my limit for a whole bunch of other things, too. Like finding a dead body or two. So what did additional caffeine matter in the overall scheme of things?

  “Remember what happened to me over the weekend, Nancy,” Mary

  Alice cautioned. “I know I told you abou
t it.” “You didn’t tell me,” said Claire.

  “Nor me,” I added.

  “Well,” Mary Alice said, looking ill at ease, “I didn’t mention it to either of you, because I didn’t think you could relate to what happened to me. After all, it’s been a long time since you two have dated anybody.”

  “True,” said Claire, laughing. “Larry doesn’t like me to date anymore.” “But we still want to hear your story, Mary Alice,” I said, happy to get off the subject of a possible murder and onto the equally unfamiliar topic of dating after the age of fifty. I’m always eager to learn something new.

  “You know that Nancy and I have both registered with Dream Dates, right?” Mary Alice asked Claire and me.

  “Of course we know,” I said. Sheesh. Sometimes Mary Alice takes longer to get to the point than I do. And that’s saying a lot.

  “So what happened? Did you go on a date?”

  “I signed up for Dream Dates because I liked their slogan, ‘Dating

  With Dignity After Fifty,’ ” Mary Alice continued.

  “You signed up because I talked you into doing it,” Nancy countered. “It wasn’t easy to convince her, either,” she told Claire and me. “But it hasn’t been all bad, right Mary Alice?” Nancy asked. “Admit it. We’ve had some fun over the past few days.”

  Mary Alice laughed. “Let’s just say that I’ve met a few people I wouldn’t have known under any other circumstances. Fun, well, I’m not sure I’d call my experience with Internet dating ‘fun.’ It’s been… interesting. But, so far, the man of my dreams hasn’t shown up. Maybe he took a wrong turn on the Internet superhighway.”

  I couldn’t resist. “He probably got lost, and didn’t ask for directions.” Prompting guffaws from my friends, all of whom had been in that situation too many times.

  “Isn’t it funny that, at our age, we’re still talking about boys?” Claire asked. “Only now, we call them ‘men.’ ”

  “So, since Claire and I are living vicariously through your new adventure,” I said to Nancy and Mary Alice, “you have to share your dating stories. And don’t leave out any of the juicy details.”