And before I knew it, I heard more people laughing. Well, the whole situation was ridiculous. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t. I began to giggle, myself.
“I fail to see the humor in this situation,” Sister Rose said. Which made the rest of us laugh even louder.
“Oh, come on, Sister Rose,” Claire said. “You really are funny. The idea of anyone thinking our high school was a training ground for hookers is absolutely hilarious. Nobody’s going to believe that. Why, we even had to kneel to be sure our uniform skirts were long enough, remember? If they didn’t touch the floor, we were sent home with a note.”
“Well, at least we know how the publisher got your contact information, Sister,” I said. “It looks like the mysterious author really is a Mount Saint Francis graduate.”
“I wonder if she’s a member of our class,” Mary Alice said. “Wouldn’t that be something? A celebrity classmate!”
“Hardly anything I would cheer about,” Sister Rose said.
“Well, I, for one, am curious as to how she came up with the idea for a book like this in the first place,” I said. “I know how much research Jim has to do when he’s writing an article. I wonder if she did research, too. You know what I mean? Hands on.”
That did it. Even Sister Rose managed a small smile at my joke, while the rest of us dissolved into howls of laughter.
“And, by the way,” Nancy said, “none of us, except you, Sister, have even seen the book. So maybe the book is all flash and no substance, if you know what I mean. It could just be a huge publicity stunt.”
Mary Catherine (remember her?) raised her hand. Just like she used to do in high school. “I saw the story about the book on Wake Up New England, too. I thought it was very strange that the author was being interviewed behind a privacy screen, so she wouldn’t be identified. I tuned in at the middle of the interview, though, so I don’t know if there was any explanation for that. But I thought that was very odd.”
“You see!” said Nancy. “It’s all just a huge publicity stunt to sell books. I knew it. Just give a book a suggestive title, add a little extra mystery with an author who remains anonymous, and the books will fly off the shelves. And whatever e-books fly off from.”
I had to admit, that made some sense. As the wife of a former New York City public relations guru, I knew first-hand some of the crazy stunts PR agencies would do to gain publicity for a product. And, after all, a book is a product, just like laundry detergent or an automobile.
“You know,” I said, with more enthusiasm than I thought I could muster up after viewing the book trailer, “I bet it’s possible that someone could go on an Internet site like classmates.com and put in a date to find out when any school in the country was doing a reunion. And after that, schedule a book launch on that date, to make it look like the mysterious author was connected with that school. Maybe this is going on all over the country and we just don’t know about it.”
That made such good sense to me. And to the rest of the committee else as well. And, thank goodness, to Sister Rose.
Whew. I knew all those dinners where Jim shared his public relations war stories with Jenny, Mike and me would come in handy someday.
“All right, everybody,” Nancy said, “are we in agreement that the Ruby Reunion will go on as scheduled, starting tomorrow night with the welcome cocktail party at Maria’s Trattoria? All those in favor, say aye!”
Of course, it was unanimous. The show must go on. But we all decided to keep an extra close eye on our attendees. Just in case one of them dropped any subtle hints about pursuing a late-life writing career.
“This party will be just like an Agatha Christie mystery,” Mary Alice said. “All the suspects will be in one place. And then Carol will figure out who the author is. Just like you’ve solved other mysteries in the past.”
Modesty prevented me from agreeing with Mary Alice. And, also, I didn’t have the faintest idea how I’d ferret out the culprit. But I did appreciate her faith in my detecting prowess.
“It’s possible that the person who wrote Fifty Shades of Navy will be at our reunion,” Sister Rose said. “I don’t think the author would miss a chance to come back and see what kind of reaction her book is getting from her classmates, do you? Assuming, of course, that she is a member of your class.”
“Everybody has to be on alert tomorrow night at the party,” Nancy said. “Mingle with as many people as you can. If you find someone you think is suspicious, let me know right away.”
I snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am. But I still think this is just a publicity stunt, and we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
And, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be at all surprised if several reunion committee members ordered Fifty Shades of Navy as an e-book tonight. In case someone referenced something at the reunion that was a hint as to the author’s identity.
Just like we used to cram for exams, way back when.
Remember, old habits die hard.
Chapter 24
Hello. I know you. Can you tell me your name?
“Wasn’t the party at Maria’s Trattoria terrific?” Nancy said. “All things considered, it was a perfect way to start off our fortieth reunion. And not one person mentioned that horrible book. Thank God. Everyone was too busy catching up after all these years. Of course, we’re nowhere nearer figuring out the identity of the author.”
“I’m sure this is all a publicity stunt,” I said for the umpteenth time. “I bet other schools having reunions this weekend are sweating this out, just like we are. Forget about it. Everyone who RSVP’d to the reunion was at the party tonight. There were no surprises.”
“And tomorrow’s lunch will be even better,” Nancy predicted as we drove through the night in the direction of Mount Saint Francis. “Especially after we get a good night’s sleep at school. I can’t believe we’re really having a sleepover there. This is going to be so much fun.”
Nancy checked the lighted dial of her watch. “We’d better get a move on, Carol, or everyone else will be there before we are.” And with that announcement, she floored the car engine and we took off like a rocket.
I know I should be used to Nancy’s driving by now, but her love of speed scares me. The only way I can deal with it without screaming my lungs out is to close my eyes and pray. Which I was now doing.
“It was a great party, Carol,” Nancy repeated, oblivious to her now whimpering passenger. “And you were right about one thing. But by the time I realized it, the party was already going strong and there wasn’t anything we could do. We’ll have them for tomorrow’s lunch, though.”
“I love it when I’m right,” I said through clenched teeth. “Be a pal and tell me what I was right about. And maybe you’d slow down, just a little bit, while you tell me. We don’t want to get a speeding ticket on our way to school.”
Nancy eased up on the accelerator. “Sorry. You’re right. I have a lead foot sometimes. You were right about the nametags. We should have had them at the welcome party. There were several people at the party who knew me, but I had no idea who they were. And after exchanging hugs and air kisses, I was embarrassed to admit it.”
“The same thing happened to me,” I said. “It was extra confusing because the restaurant also had a wedding reception going on in the next room. I kept getting the people mixed up. I was having a lovely conversation with a woman who looked very familiar, and after a few minutes, I realized she wasn’t in our class at all. She was the mother of the groom. Boy, did I feel stupid. But we both had a good laugh about it.”
“It was great that Neecy stopped in,” Nancy said. “Although she couldn’t stay long. She said something about a campaign event she had to go to for her husband. Did you get to talk to her?”
“Just for a second,” I said. “We’re trying to arrange a play date
for our dogs. She said she’ll definitely be at the luncheon tomorrow.”
Even in the darkness, I could see Nancy raise a perfectly arched eyebrow. “A play date for the dogs? What the heck are you talking about? That’s just about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but didn’t get the chance.
“Oh, never mind about that now,” my chauffeur said. “We’re here.” She rolled to a stop in front of the looming structure that was our old high school. “There’re a few cars in the parking lot. I knew the rest of the committee would beat us here.”
“It wasn’t a race, Nancy,” I said. “And as the chairman of the reunion, I figured you’d want to stay behind until everyone else left the welcome party.”
Truthfully, I was glad the rest of the committee was at school ahead of us. Although I knew it was stupid, the thought of going into that building at night creeped me out.
“Do we have to ring the doorbell?” I asked, dragging my overnight bag up the steps to the main door. “At least the front light is on.”
Nancy gave me a look. “You’re kidding, right? There’s a keypad next to the door. All we have to do is punch in the correct code and the door will open. You are so last century, Carol. You’d better get into the modern age.”
Humph. I decided, in the interest of harmony between best friends, to let that remark pass. I hope you’re all proud of me.
Nancy punched in seven numbers and the door clicked open. “Is this safe?” I asked as we walked into the lobby. “What if someone forgets the code and can’t get inside? And what about security?”
“Fairport Manor will have twenty-four hour security once it’s officially open,” Nancy informed me. “There’ll always be someone at the reception desk, too. In case of an emergency. And I’m sure every resident will be given some sort of alternate access method. In case there’s a power failure, for instance, when the keypad isn’t working. We’ll probably find out all about that tomorrow, when our class has the grand tour.”
I headed through the darkened lobby in the general direction of the marble staircase, lugging my suitcase in one hand and my purse in the other. Sheesh. What the heck did I pack in this thing? It weighed a ton.
“Come on, Carol,” Nancy said, following close behind me. “Don’t tell me you insist on using the stairs when there’s a perfectly good elevator. You have more phobias than…well, you have a lot of phobias.”
“Just remember that I agreed to stay overnight here because you talked me into it,” I said. “I’d rather be home in my own bed, even if Jim would be snoring up a storm and keeping me awake. You told me this would be fun. When, exactly, does the fun start? I don’t want to miss it.”
“When you look back on this reunion, you’ll be glad we stayed here overnight, Carol,” Nancy said. “And I admit I talked you into it, so there. I hope you’re satisfied. Let’s not argue about this.”
“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” I said. “Climbing the stairs will be good exercise. I don’t know about you, but I had way too much food at the welcome party tonight. If you don’t want to walk, though, that’s fine with me. Take the elevator and I’ll see you on the third floor.”
“Oh, all right,” Nancy grumbled. “Lead on.”
“I can’t believe our room is in the former cloister,” I said. I was puffing a little from the stairs, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Nancy. “Are Claire and Mary Alice next door to us? I like the idea of having all of us close together.”
It’s less freaky. Not that I would admit that.
“We’re in three-one-eight,” said Nancy, checking the key fob. “I think they’re at the end of the hall.” She put her hand over her heart and panted for dramatic effect. “I’m out of breath from climbing all those stairs. Here, you open the door,’ she said, handing me the key.
When I touched the door, searching for the lock, it swung open. Unaided.
“That’s odd,” I said.
“Maybe the ghosts of nuns past got here ahead of us and staked out a claim,” Nancy said.
“You are just hilarious,” I said, fumbling on the wall for the light switch. In a flash (sorry about the pun) the room was bathed in light.
“Oh.” I stopped short, and Nancy careened into me. “Are you sure this is the right room? There’s someone asleep in one of the beds.”
“Of course this is our room,” Nancy huffed. She went outside and checked the number against the key, just to be sure.
“One of the other committee members must have gotten confused. I don’t want to scare her, but we have to wake her up. Otherwise, we’ll have to find another room.”
“Do you have any idea who it is?” I whispered.
“I have no idea,” Nancy said. “Someone with white hair. That certainly narrows the possibilities down. And there’s no need to whisper, Carol. Especially since we want her to wake up and leave. Why don’t you see if you can rouse her?”
I gave Nancy a dirty look. “Why do I always have to do the hard jobs? Thanks a lot.”
I crossed the room and touched the sleeping woman’s arm. Gently. I didn’t want to scare her.
“Excuse me,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry to wake you, but you’re in the wrong room. “
“Goodness, she certainly is a sound sleeper,” Nancy said. “She didn’t even move.”
I touched the woman’s arm again.
Nothing. No response.
Oh, lord.
“Nancy,” I said, “we have to get out of here. Right now.”
I pushed her out the door. “Is your phone in your pocket? Mine’s packed in my suitcase.”
“What?”
“Just give it to me!” I reached out my hand and snatched the phone. I was trembling all over.
“What in the world are you talking about, Carol? It’s so late. Who on earth do you want to call at this hour?”
“The police. The woman in our room isn’t sleeping. She’s dead.”
Chapter 25
My husband is retired. He was tired yesterday,
and he’s even more tired today.
Looking back on that night after a few weeks had passed, I had to admit that I was proud of the way I handled discovering the dead body at our reunion weekend. There may be some of you who recall a few other times – two, in fact – when I’d been faced with a similar situation. I’m not counting the first time I got involved with a dead body, since Jim deserves the honors on that occasion.
All of these, mind you, have happened since Jim retired. Do you think there could be a connection?
Maybe we need to get another hobby.
Anyway, on the previous two times I’d been personally involved in discovering a dead body, I’d reacted by dissolving into hysterical crying and/or screaming my lungs out for help.
But not this time. No sirree. Truth to tell, I was probably in total shock. But maybe I was also getting used to this sort of thing. Not to the point where I was immune to the horror of it. Or actually enjoying it. But I was calm. Even when I made the call to the Fairport police to report a death, I didn’t babble.
Just the facts, ma’am. That was me.
Nancy, of course, was hysterical enough for both of us. I dragged her out of what was supposed to be our temporary home-away-from-home and locked the bedroom door with the key. I wasn’t taking any chances on contaminating what could be a crime scene.
Not that I thought it was, understand. It’s just that I’ve learned that any unattended death is suspicious. And that’s why I insisted we call the police.
“Oh, God, Carol,” Nancy said, gulping and trying to get control of herself. Unsuccessfully. “The reunion is ruined. All our planning…who would have thought…it’s just so horrible….”
It’s certainly ruined for
one of us. Permanently.
I didn’t really say that. Of course.
Instead, best friend that I am, I said, “Nancy, sweetie, maybe it would be best if you went to Claire and Mary Alice’s room until the police get here. You can calm down a little there. Do you know what number their room is?”
Nancy looked at me in horror. “I couldn’t leave you, Carol. Not with…her in our room. Dead.” And she collapsed into sobs again.
“What the heck is going on out here?” demanded Claire, heading toward us down the hallway with the determination of a pit bull. “Some of us are trying to sleep. Why are you two out here in the hall? Mary Alice and I tried to stay up and wait for you two to get here, but we were too tired.”
She gave me a look that reminded me of my mother when I was late from a date. An unpleasant memory, to be sure.
“You were supposed to be here an hour ago, so we could have a glass of wine together and then go to bed,” Claire said. “Where were you?”
Mary Alice, hard on Claire’s heels, took one look at Nancy and me and smacked Claire on her head. (Gosh, I’ve always wanted to do that.)
“For heaven’s sake, Claire, keep your voice down. Do you want to wake up everybody else? Take a look at them. It’s obvious that they’ve had a terrible shock.”
She put her arm around Nancy and said, “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go back into your room and you can tell us what happened.”
Nancy recoiled in shock. “Hell, no. There’s no way I’m going back in there.” Then, looking at me, “Tell them what happened, Carol. Tell them what we found when we opened the door to our room.”
“Yes, Mrs. Andrews,” said another voice. A male voice. One I had hoped to never hear again. “Why don’t you tell us what happened? And why you called the Fairport police tonight?”
Class Reunions Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story; A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery Page 12
