The Busy Woman's Guide to Murder

by Mary Jane Maffini

  “Nice fire,” Jack said, pointing to the woodstove and heading straight for it. I scurried after him and got as close as I could. Through the glass front of the woodstove we could see the red-hot logs glowing inside; a cheerful sight.

  “Have a seat,” Haley said. Jack sprawled on the sofa and I settled in a battered armchair with a crazy patchwork afghan covering the worn upholstery.

  Haley busied herself making coffee and soon that scent added to the wood smoke. When the coffee came, it smelled good. It might have been half-strength and it could have passed as last night’s dishwater, but, unlike last night’s dishwater, it was hot and it was there. Haley settled down and smiled at us, expectantly. Her face was already less puffy and she was obviously more with it than when we arrived.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I just didn’t follow what was going on. Explain it again.”

  “Charlotte thought you were dead,” Jack said, blowing on his coffee cup.

  “Dead?”

  “We’re both glad you’re not.”

  “Hey, me too,” she said. “But, um, what would make you think I was dead?”

  “Silly,” I said, feeling my face redden.

  “Charlotte lets her imagination run away sometimes. This was one of those times. Great coffee, Haley.”

  What a liar. He seemed so innocent too.

  “Excellent,” I said, adding to the lie quotient in the room. “Just strong enough to do the trick.”

  “I still don’t understand why you thought I was dead.”

  “It’s crazy.”

  She nodded. I guess she already knew that.

  “Another woman was killed in the middle of the night. She was walking to her car near Ambleside Acres, probably going home. She was found around six this morning.”

  Haley’s watery blue eyes widened. “Killed? You mean another hit-and-run?”

  “Exactly,” Jack said. I noticed he wasn’t actually drinking the coffee.

  Haley’s gaze shifted from Jack to me. “I didn’t catch the news yet today. We usually finish around three and sleep until ten or eleven. Randy’s still sleeping now.”

  “I hope we didn’t wake him up.”

  She grinned. “An atomic bomb wouldn’t wake him up. Don’t worry about that. The same with our daughter, Brie.”

  I felt a bit of relief that I only had to appear like an idiot in front of one person. Jack didn’t count. We were used to being foolish in front of each other and so that never mattered. I said, “I knew you worked nights in offices and I knew that there were those couple of strip malls at the edge of Ambleside Acres so I started to worry. What if . . . ?”

  “What if someone’s trying to kill me too?”

  I nodded. “I realize it’s silly now. It’s just that the first victim looked so much like Serena and I was wondering if it was a case of mistaken identity.”

  Haley had just started to realize what that might have meant. “You think someone wanted to kill Serena? And me? Because of actions when we were kids? Oh my God, I regret all that so much. Why would someone want to kill me? I’m sorry for everything I did.”

  “That was my thinking. But it wasn’t you, so it was obviously a product of my feverish mind. I am so sorry, Haley.”

  Haley stood up, walked over to the stack of split firewood, opened the glass-fronted door, and added a healthy top-up to the fire. I liked the crackling noise. She sat down again and said, “But it might have been me. What if this was another mistake? Randy and I do have clients in those strip malls. We just don’t work there on Saturday nights.”

  I added, “We’re sorry about this, Haley. I shouldn’t have panicked and alarmed you. I see now that it didn’t happen and that’s a good thing.”

  A sound between a squeak and a roar caught our attention and we turned. A large hairy man stuck his head out of what must have been the bedroom door. He stepped into the room and scratched his belly. He spotted us and then scratched his head. He turned to face Haley. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

  “Randy,” she said. “You remember Charlotte Adams, don’t you, hon?” I gave myself yet another mental kick.

  He squinted at me. He was a man who had worked all night and found himself with unexpected visitors in the morning before he’d had a cup of coffee. Considering all that, he seemed pretty mild. He said, “Who?”

  “Charlotte Adams. From St. Jude’s? She almost went out with your buddy Jason Gardner? Remember? Before we were going together. Or we could have double-dated.”

  He blinked. “Yeah, sure,” he said unconvincingly. He managed a teddy bear grin. He was instantly likeable. I would have trusted him with my wallet. I could see how he would have been a dynamite salesman as Haley had said. “How ya doin’?”

  I said firmly, “I am doing very well.”

  Haley hadn’t bothered to ask me if I recognized Randy. I did, although time hadn’t been kind to him either. The huge football player’s body had turned flabby and his dark hair had receded—well, actually descended, because there was lots of it on his chest, arms, and, although I didn’t want to check too closely, his ears. He was far too pale, a clue to his health.

  Haley inclined her head in Jack’s direction. “And this is, uh . . . I’m sorry; you look real familiar, but I don’t quite remember your name.”

  Jack was his gracious self. “Jack Reilly. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t remember you either, Harley.”

  “Haley,” I said quickly. “It’s Haley, Jack.”

  The hulk squinted at Jack, and then grinned. “Basketball, right? It’s all coming back to me.”

  “That’s me.”

  “You were pretty good. You still play?”

  “Not really. I’m into cycling now.”

  “Cycling,” the hulk said, the way he might have if Jack admitted he spent his time doing needlepoint studies of small pastel animals. He turned to me. “Real nice to see you again,” he lied politely and shook my hand. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m heading back to bed for a bit. Haley? You need anything?”

  She shook her head.

  “I always take care of my girls,” he said. “But first a bit more sleep.”

  “I’m up for good,” Haley said in a shaky voice. “But Charlotte’s here for a reason. You are just going to die when you hear this, Randy.”

  He stared at her, slack-jawed, before he said, “What?”

  “She thinks someone is trying to kill me.” Her blue eyes filled.

  Randy thumped down on the sofa and fixed his wife with a loving glance. “But why would anyone want to do that, sweetheart?”

  Save stress: Prepare for your morning the night before—lay out your clothing, set up breakfast dishes and dry foods, have the coffee ready to go, and make your To Do list.

  5

  Home again. Jack, to his credit, did not give me a hard time about my wild idea that someone had killed Haley.

  “We’re both glad she’s still alive,” he said, by way of letting me off the hook. “And her husband is too.”

  “Right. Funny how it turns out that they’re still high school sweethearts. You don’t think of that kind of thing working out.”

  Jack gave me a strange look.

  “Thanks for coming with me out there. Better safe than sorry,” I added gratefully.

  “Can we forget about these mean girls now and enjoy our day?” Jack said.

  “Oh, sure.” I meant it too.

  Jack made some more coffee to wipe out the taste of Haley’s brew while I checked the phone to see that Sally, Margaret, and Pepper had all called. That was nice. My lovely contact from Woodbridge Therapy Dogs had too. My mother had phoned from somewhere exotic and left an excited message that could have meant either she was getting married again or she had a new handbag. Oh well, I’d find out soon enough. I left the messages and turned to Jack. Jack and I agreed on a winter wonderland walk with wieners once I’d warmed up fully again. We both had some fun reading and some new music to listen to. We don’t read the same kind
s of books. I favor personal development books; Jack likes mysteries for some reason. I like funky alternative rock; he’s into world music. Big deal. We respect each other’s choices, more or less.

  At some point, we’d decide between an early dinner at one of our favorite restaurants or a movie. Picking the movie would involve flipping a coin, unless we saw two movies. Sunday. I love Sundays. It got off to a rocky start, but it was still the most luxurious day of the week. My To Do list was all fun things. I made a promise out loud to myself and Jack that we’d keep this day to ourselves. I hoped that would continue if “us” ever turned into more “us” than it currently was.

  Jack and I parked near Kristee’s Kandees and spent a happy hour strolling through snowy uptown Woodbridge. The dogs cooperated for once. When we’d finished, we headed in Kristee’s. I wanted to get a couple of boxes of Kristee’s black-and-white fudge, which is my gift of choice for hostesses, people in hospitals, reluctant sources in investigations, bribable police officers, and myself. Just because.

  Kristee is never the sunniest of individuals, to understate the case. It’s always a surprise that she can turn out such yummy confections when you can practically see the black cloud of misery over her head. Today she scowled as I walked through the door. She extended the scowl to Jack.

  “I’m staying outside with the dogs,” Jack said.

  Truffle and Sweet Marie sniffed the air. They love this place because Kristee has a special line of homemade peanut butter dog biscuits. Of course, pesky health rules kept them outside the shop. I think Jack was grateful for them.

  “Charlotte,” Kristee said. She stretched her lips out to simulate a smile that could fool no one.

  “That must be painful,” Jack muttered from behind me. Out loud he said, “I’d better put some money in the parking meter.”

  “Don’t need to pay on Sunday,” Kristee countered. From her expression she thought that was a bad idea. You might assume a business person would have encouraged anything that made life easier for customers, such as free parking.

  “How are you, Kristee?” I realized I was dreading the answer. Kristee could often have a tale of woe that was entirely of her own making. As long as I’d been coming there, it was always something.

  As usual, Kristee had a bit of icing sugar in her short, dark hair. She often dyed it blond or red, but her natural dark hair suited her. She was as plump as one of her hand-dipped chocolates and was quite pretty when she wasn’t in a sour mood.

  “Worse than usual,” she said. “I imagine you are too.”

  “What?”

  “Well, you know. Bad enough it’s April, usually a good month for me, with ice cream sales going up, but now with this bad weather, people are staying home in droves. Also Serena Redding’s back in the area and you know what that means.”

  I was surprised to hear Kristee echo Mona’s comments. “I know what it used to mean. But surely people like Serena don’t have power over any of us anymore,” I said.

  She dismissed that with a shrug.

  “If they ever did,” I added.

  Kristee shot me a venomous glance. I turned and checked the window. I guess Jack had caught a bit of that glance. He recoiled and appeared to trip over his own feet.

  I reminded myself to stand firm and remember the fudge. I thought reinforcements would be good. “Excuse me a minute.” I opened the door and told Jack to put the dogs in the car and join me. I was undeterred by the pathetic expression on his face.

  As he dragged himself through the door, I said, “We were just discussing Serena’s return and whether or not she could still have power over any of us.”

  Jack said, “Did she have all that much power?”

  Kristee said, “Guys have no idea about the kind of control she had over everyone. I’m speaking as a fat girl who still bears the scars.”

  Of course, that would have been something else I hadn’t paid attention to. “Did they make your life miserable too?”

  Kristee curled her upper lip. “You mean all the pig remarks? The snorting whenever I tried to take a bite of my lunch. The bacon jokes. The snapping sounds that were supposed to be my waistband popping. I hated every minute I was in that school. Those pig jokes? They were just the warm-up.”

  I thought I saw a shake in her hand.

  I shook my head. “Too rough to talk about.”

  Kristee curled her lip. “How would you know, Little Miss Perfect?”

  “You’re right. I guess I was kind of oblivious. I feel bad that I didn’t pay attention to what they were doing.”

  “Huh. They didn’t give you any grief. You were always just right, mincing about.”

  Mincing? “I don’t believe I minced.”

  “Trust me. You were always a little—”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Kristee,” I said.

  “Yeah, well. Too little. Too late.”

  “That reminds me, do you remember the first victim, Bethann Reynolds?”

  “Sure. She had a hard time too. But she’s another person like me who got tired of being bullied and decided to fight back. She took her former employer to court and won a major settlement for harassment. It was actually a school board too. When other people don’t help us, we can do it ourselves.” She flashed me a guilt-inducing look.

  “Is that a new kind of fudge?” Jack said, leaning in toward the display cabinet. “It doesn’t seem familiar.”

  Her face lit up. She was quite appealing when she was talking about candy. It was everything else in the world that was the problem. “Triple chocolate truffles,” she said with pride. “Dark, semisweet, and white chocolate. I found a new way to make them complement each other.”

  “Wow,” Jack said.

  Kristee would have been through hell for sure. I cut her a bit of slack and let the mincing remark go. I supposed there were many things worse than mincing. Being fat at St. Jude’s, for instance. That must have been torture. She was right. My remarks were too little and too late.

  Didn’t matter much apparently, because Jack and Kristee had put together a box of the new triple chocolate truffles and I added two gift boxes of black-and-white fudge to the order. And a regular box for us. After all.

  I thought that Kristee had mellowed a bit by the time the amount was rung up on the register, but that turned out to be premature. “When I saw the photo of the woman who was killed in the hit-and-run Friday night, I thought it was Serena. I was celebrating right up until I found out that it was someone else. What a letdown. I guess whoever aimed for her didn’t do her homework well.”

  Mona’s face flashed through my mind.

  Jack sputtered. “Come on, Kristee, that was a tragedy to have a person killed that way. She never did anything to you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, tragic for Bethann. But not if it had been Serena. If she’d been killed a hundred different painful ways, it wouldn’t be nearly enough payback for the harm she did to people. I would have done it myself if I’d had the chance. That all? I have some white chocolate bark with dried sweetened cranberries on special this weekend. Going fast.”

  “Sounds good,” Jack said. “And we’d like a bag of dog biscuits too. The bone-shaped ones.”

  I said nothing. I just kept wondering if the victim had been mistaken for Serena and if someone I’d known at St. Jude’s had taken the opportunity to target their murderous rage at the wrong person. Someone like Mona, for instance.

  Kristee finished the transaction and said with an evil grin, “But at least they got Tiffanee. That felt good.”

  Jack and I said, “What?” at the same time.

  Kristee said, “They got Tiffanee.”

  I felt a chill. “You mean that was Tiffanee who was hit last night? I didn’t think the name had—”

  “A cop told me this morning, just after I opened. They know these things and this guy has a weakness for fudge. It was her, all right. Bang, you’re dead. Now other people tell me that Princess T had been walking around Woodbridge all these
years pretending to be a decent person, with her yoga and her sandals and all that BS. I can see through that. I remember the kinds of things she said and did to me. I remember the gloating look on her face. I hope she suffered before she died. I am not going to pretend to be shocked or upset. I hope she saw the face of the person who hit her and I hope she knew why.”

  Jack and I were very quiet as we walked back to the Miata. Back at the car, the little dogs jumped with joy trying to get at the bag of dog biscuits as soon we got in. I was still too shocked to enjoy the moment. So was Jack.

  I realized I was shivering.

  “Makes you think,” Jack said. “Do you want my jacket?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t want you freezing. Makes you think what?” I said as I finally pulled out onto the road.

  He said, “I didn’t know Kristee had such a hard time at St. Jude’s.”

  “I didn’t either, but it sounds awful.”

  “Exactly. How many other lives have been blighted by Serena and her friends?”

  “So you’re saying how many people might have wanted to kill Tiffanee?”

  “Yes. And is that the end of it?”

  The car swerved a bit. I couldn’t wait to get home. Something told me I wouldn’t get an answer from Mona.

  If Jack and I were late in finding out about Tiffanee, WINY was not. Todd Tyrell embraced his inner snowman as he stood on the site of the second hit-and-run. He barely managed to keep the joy out of his voice. “Tiffanee Dupont,” he intoned, “was a popular yoga teacher in Woodbridge. Tonight her friends and students are mourning the loss of this beautiful woman and generous spirit.”

  Tiffanee’s image flashed across the screen. I wouldn’t have recognized her. She was serene and elegant with her glowing skin and close-cropped dark hair. The waist-length hair I remembered was ancient history, but people would kill to have a neck like that.