The Busy Woman's Guide to Murder

by Mary Jane Maffini

  Next I drove by the police station. Pepper hadn’t mentioned that I shouldn’t do that. I found no red Aveo parked in the staff parking area.

  So. Mona wasn’t at home, wasn’t at work. Where was she? And was she all right?

  Jack chugged up the stairs before five. “The roads are crummy. I closed early. It’s not bike-buying weather. Not even snowboard weather. I thought you were babysitting at Sally’s tonight.”

  “I am, but not until six thirty. Her yoga class is at seven.”

  “Okay. Want to eat together?”

  This was a ridiculous comment, as we eat together every night that we’re home.

  He said, “Shall I send out for Thai? Hey, your table’s set.”

  “Don’t pass out, but I actually have the makings of a stir-fry. I am just about to whip that up.”

  “Right. I forgot you owned a recipe. That would be good. Want me to chop?”

  “I actually have two recipes, Jack. Don’t minimize. And I have rice cooking, and I am not counting that as one of the recipes. But anyway, I already chopped red and yellow peppers, zucchini, celery, and garlic. We’ll have to eat pizza for a week to get all these vitamins out of our systems.”

  As I heated the wok and dropped in some oil to sizzle, Jack entertained Truffle and Sweet Marie. He called out to me from the living room. “What got into you?”

  I dropped some finely chopped garlic into the sizzling oil. “I was trying to get into a Zen mood after all this worry about Mona and Serena and who knows who else. It helped quite a bit.” I watched the dogs frolicking with Jack as the veggies hopped in the hot wok. It was more fun than television. I tossed in a pile of shrimp and then some black-bean sauce to finish off.

  Jack was suitably impressed. It doesn’t take much and that’s a good thing. The dogs were impressed too and hung around, full of hope. As I served up the fragrant results on my white square plates, Jack said, “Hey. I’ll do the dishes.”

  “I was going to volunteer you. And by the way, you were right, Jack. You did see Serena and she actually is a volunteer at Riverview Manor.”

  Jack’s fork paused midway to his mouth. “Now, that’s scary. Those people are very vulnerable. What if Serena hasn’t really changed her ways? Do the people in charge know about her history as a bully?”

  I shrugged. “They do know. At least they’ve heard a version of her past, although maybe that’s been sanitized. They think that she is trying to make up for the evil things she’s done in her life, and they believe her. Bella didn’t agree with taking her on as a volunteer, but apparently it’s all working out.”

  “Did you mention that you’d trust her as far as you could throw a Buick?”

  “I made my point, but Bella says it seems to be sincere. She says Serena is never alone anyway. I am not sure what to do about it. It’s not like we have any standing at Riverview. Serena has them bamboozled for sure. Bella insists that she’s keeping an eye on Serena just in case.”

  “That girl never did anything without an ulterior motive. So what would be her motive there? I don’t get that.”

  “From what I can figure out she has a new husband. He’s a wealthy philanthropist and a man who is into ethical behavior.”

  “Sounds like a guy who would be very disappointed to learn about the kind of person Serena is. Maybe that’s why she’s trying to build bridges.”

  “She called a relative of Bella’s to ask forgiveness for her actions as a teenager. She called Mona.”

  “I can’t see anyone falling for that.”

  “Most people fell for it when we were at St. Jude’s. Bella says the staff and residents like her a lot.”

  “Maybe she’s trying to get at their money.”

  “The new husband is loaded. So I don’t think that’s it. Serena’s always had money. I think she enjoyed power. That’s her motivation. I wonder if that’s why she called Mona.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ostensibly to get forgiveness, but wanting to bring all those bad memories back to Mona. The girl’s gone off the deep end. Perhaps Serena is enjoying the knowledge that she can cause a person to disintegrate. Especially a person like Mona who’d worked so hard to overcome that tough time, to build a life and make a contribution.”

  Jack scowled. “I guess we’d better try to find out what’s going on.”

  For Christmas, I’d given Sally two hours of babysitting every Tuesday night so she could hurry off to the yoga class that was saving her sanity this extended winter. Her husband, Benjamin, was too busy with hospital activities, committees, and his medical practice to give her much time off. With four children under five, Sally crashed into bed by eight many nights. I’d actually found her asleep on the rug once. My babysitting was a big hit. Jack had given Sally the same gift on Friday afternoons. If you haven’t gathered this already, he is crazy about small children and wild about babies. I love kids too, for about an hour and fifty-eight minutes.

  ’Nuff said.

  I was armed with a stack of books and some wind-up toy frogs that seemed nicely unpredictable. On her way out, I’d asked Sally to subtly inquire about Tiffanee and find out what people in that yoga community were saying. As the door closed behind her, I took a deep breath, turned, and faced the darling rug rats.

  When she got home, Sally had the post-yoga boneless glow that people seem to get. She sank into her leather sofa and smiled dreamily at me.

  I wasn’t quite so glowing, although I did have peanut butter in my hair.

  “How did it go?” she said, eying my hair and suppressing a smirk.

  “Books were a hit. Frogs were so-so. Snack was a disaster.”

  She glanced past me into the kitchen. “I can see that.”

  Three preschoolers were out like lights under a blanket on the sofa. The baby was already asleep. Sally had given them their baths before I arrived. Bath times for Sally’s kids have not been among my most glorious moments.

  Sally said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love them so much, but I need to get away from the little beasts from time to time.”

  “Hey, no need to explain to me.”

  She snorted. “Hey, come on. Peanut butter becomes you.”

  “Changing the subject. Did anyone at your yoga group talk about Tiffanee?”

  “Sure. They all did.”

  “And?”

  Sally yawned.

  “Nope. Not boring,” I said. “Murdered, you know. So what did they say?”

  “She was a lovely, kind woman. A talented yoga instructor. A few people cried.”

  I scowled. “Not a bully?”

  “Quite dramatically changed apparently.”

  “Do you think that can happen, Sal?”

  She straightened up and thought for a minute. “Hard to imagine, but I suppose it might be possible. But I think you need to let it go, Charlotte. Stop obsessing about Serena and the rest of them.”

  “I need a favor from you.”

  “After my break tonight, I owe you. Have I told you I love you too? Not as much as I love Jack, because he gives me more hours, but quite a lot.”

  “You and Benjamin know lots of medical practitioners here. Have you come across anyone who specializes in bullying?”

  “Not again with that, Charlotte. What did I just say? You need to keep your nose out of this.”

  “What I need is to help Mona. I should have done it as a teenager. I should have had the empathy and the guts. Now she’s in crisis. I’m not going to get involved in any other way, but I’d like to talk to someone who is a capable professional with no ax to grind or guilty feelings like me. Is that so ridiculous?”

  Sally’s sigh was particularly dramatic, even by her standards.

  I said, “Go ahead. Go for the Oscar, Sal. But it won’t hurt anyone for me to talk to a shrink about this.”

  “A shrink may be just what you need.”

  “I don’t understand why you are being like this,” I said.

  “Like what?”

/>   “Obstructionistic. And mean.”

  “Mainly because I don’t think you should get involved. Someone is killing people. You are always getting involved in murders and putting yourself in danger. And you put Jack in danger too because he’ll do anything to help you.”

  “I understand your point of view. All that babysitting time jeopardized if I’m six feet under. But I am trying to avoid exactly that by speaking to someone who is a professional. I’ll find out what is the right thing to do. Didn’t I just say that? And let me make the point again: If we had taken those bullies to task, Mona wouldn’t have had to deal with all this by herself. We are partly responsible.”

  “Speak for yourself. Maybe they would have made her life even more hellish as soon as we turned around. Ours too.”

  I gave Sally’s hand a quick squeeze. “We should have stood up for ourselves and each other too. And for everyone else who needed it. I feel ashamed that I didn’t do that. And I want to make up for it.”

  Sally said, “Lucky for you I’m all mellowed out from yoga.”

  “You’ll help?”

  “Benjamin has a colleague, a psychologist who works with bullies and people who have been damaged by bullies.”

  “Will I like her?”

  “Him.”

  “Same question.”

  “I think so. But you’re not looking for a new friend. Just some expert advice. Right?”

  She had me. “Good point. I just need information on the best way to deal with Mona. So that she’s not damaged any more.”

  Sally said, “Unless Mona’s actually behind these hit-and-runs. She must have been so damaged by all that horrible treatment. But if she is, then you’d better just stay out of her way.”

  “Pepper says Mona’s in the clear for both of them. But Mona seemed to have gone off the deep end and I need to know she’s not going to ruin her life or harm herself or someone else.”

  On my way home that evening, I swung by Rose Skipowski’s place halfway up the steep hill on North Hemlock, hoping it wasn’t too late. I found Lilith knee-deep in an end-of-term assignment, but willing to stop for me. As for Rose, she was always up for an unexpected guest. She’d answered the door in an aqua and silver jogging suit with little heart-shaped rhinestones that added a bit of bling. Her running shoes were silver with matching rhinestone blingy bits. Really, you hardly noticed that portable oxygen machine.

  “You’re looking splendid,” I said.

  Rose twinkled. “I’m just back from my bridge club. Lilith’s got me back into a lot of my old activities. I feel like a kid of seventy again. But the girl’s a slave driver. A little snack for you, Charlotte?”

  Rose had lemon sugar refrigerator cookies sliced and baking away within seconds of my arrival. I made the coffee, because while Rose makes the best cookies in town, she makes the worst coffee. I always have a plan.

  “Sure thing,” Lilith said when I filled her in about the Serena conundrum. “I’ve worked in a lot of the facilities in town. I bet I know someone who’s employed at Riverview Manor. Or maybe someone who’s done a co-op assignment there. It has a great reputation.”

  “Excellent. I need to have someone who might have observed Serena at work and who might be closer to the situation than the administrators, who might know what’s going on. Bella Constantine is pretty plugged in. But I have a feeling that the personal-care workers might see things that she doesn’t. And they wouldn’t have a preconceived notion about Serena from the pastor and the rich husband.”

  “Let me snoop around and get back to you,” Lilith said. “If she’s up to no good, someone will have noticed something. I’m sure I’ll have something by the time we meet at Hannah’s on Thursday morning.”

  I enjoy sitting in Rose’s seventies-style living room. It’s like a time warp, right down to the ancient oversize answering machine. The first one in the world, possibly. While I was enjoying plotting with Lilith and stuffing my face with Rose’s unbeatable lemon sugar cookies, Rose had been unusually quiet. Finally she said sadly, “I know it happens, but it’s hard to believe that someone might hurt defenseless people.”

  I nodded. “And good people don’t catch on in time.”

  Rose said, “I only wish I could help.”

  Sally delivered as I knew she would. Jack had joined me on the sofa after I got back. He’d been busy on the phone and online setting up a silent auction to benefit WAG’D—that’s Welcome All Good Dogs if I have failed to mention it. I knew I’d be asked to dig deep. And I would be making a good donation even if Jack didn’t turn the pressure up. Which he would. The doggies, freshly walked and dried off, snuggled in between us and promptly went to sleep. “I couldn’t find out anything about Serena and her change of personality,” Jack said. “I did make a few calls about the auction and kind of sneaked it into the chat.”

  He polished off the lemon sugar cookies that Rose had sent home with me, leaving only the empty container. I cleaned it out and put it on the console to return to Rose. Now he was insisting on hearing all about the babysitting. “Not much to tell,” I said. I felt mean when I saw his face, and made up for it by describing every mildly amusing thing the kids had done over the hour and a half until they’d keeled over.

  “Sounds like fun,” Jack said. “By the way, are you still hungry?”

  I was debating whether to offer up the last container of B & J’s New York Super Chunk Fudge. By rights, neither one of us should have been hungry. The phone rang and I put that thought on hold.

  Sally said, “You want a shrink. You got a shrink. Sam Partridge and please don’t make any of those ‘for the birds’ puns, because he’s heard them all.”

  “I wasn’t planning on making bad puns,” I said, defending myself against something that hadn’t crossed my mind. Although I did have a mental image of Dr. Sam Partridge, and I was certain this real one wouldn’t run across a road in a random pattern when startled by a noise.

  “He usually works out of his home office, but he has a clinic at the hospital tomorrow. He’ll see you at noon, if you don’t mind joining him while he has lunch. I was lucky that he picked up his phone when I called.”

  Sally is so gorgeous that I couldn’t imagine any man who wouldn’t pick up the phone. She doesn’t like it when I say things like that, so I kept the thought to myself. “Join him? I’ll buy lunch for him.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary. Ten minutes, no more. He’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”

  “How will I know what he looks like?”

  “He’ll recognize you.”

  I suppose that was the one advantage of finding myself on television so often, even if it was usually me getting hauled off to the hoosegow in frog pajamas and pink fluffy slippers.

  “Now it’s past my bedtime.” Sally hung up in the middle of what sounded like a yawn.

  Fear of missing out is a huge time-waster.

  Anxiety about missing an e-mail, magazine article, conversation, social event, or sale leads to overcommitment and feeling overwhelmed. You can’t have it all, know it all, or do it all. Accept that and try to relax.

  10

  Wednesday morning, I had three messages when I got back in from the first dog “walk.” They like to be airlifted to do their business through most of the winter. Back home, dried off and rewarded with a tiny liver treat, they tilted their heads in interest, concluded there was no more food to be gained from listening, and headed back to Nap Central. They climbed back under their blanket to dream of spring and squirrels.

  I replayed the first message. Mona was nearly impossible to understand. “I told you so! Why didn’t you listen to me?” That was the most I could get out of it. I was still trying to make out the rest of the blubbered message before she abruptly hung up. I still hadn’t learned where she was or what had triggered that particular call. Of course, that was cleared up by the second message. Pepper. “Well, bit of news for you. Not sure how you’ll take it, but it’s definitely serious. Give me a call.”


  Naturally, Pepper didn’t pick up when I returned her call.

  The third caller was Jack, phoning from the shop, where he’d been waiting for an early-morning delivery. “Holy crap. Something big has happened.”

  Why must absolutely everyone play games?

  I called Jack back.

  “Are you watching the news?” he said.

  “No. I try to never—”

  “Then I guess you don’t know.”

  “That’s right,” I said with an edge to my voice. “I have a busy day, so please spit it out.”

  “Another hit-and-run. Turn on your television and call me later.”

  Click.

  Dial tone. I was getting so sick of that.

  I braced myself for Todd Tyrell’s relentless cheer in the face of disaster. Snow swirled around his gelled head as he reported. I leaned forward to try to see where he was.

  Tragedy struck again in Woodbridge for the third time in less than a week. A woman was killed while leaving an informal memorial for a friend, who was one of the two other victims. The victim’s name has not been released, but WINY has learned that she was struck near her vehicle, which was parked behind the yoga studio where the private ceremony was being held.

  The body was discovered by the yoga studio staff at about ten last night. It appeared that the victim had been dead for more than an hour at the time she was found. The gathering had been in memory of Tiffanee Dupont, a popular yoga teacher and mentor, whose funeral will be held later this week. WINY spoke early this morning to two friends of the dead woman.

  A gorgeous brown-eyed blonde whose golden skin seemed out of place in the swirling snow filled the screen. She flashed back an ultrawhite smile while tears trickled prettily down her velvety cheeks. Not everyone can do that. But of course, it came naturally to Serena Redding Zeitz.