There was a muffled sound of a buzzer, then the parking lot of the grade school was suddenly full of children — screaming, jumping, overwrought children. Many of them, including her son and Shelley's, carrying paper bags full of school papers and supplies that would clutter their rooms for months and finally be discarded only when school started again in the fall. Three months, Jane thought dismally.
Summer vacation meant ear infections from swimming; fights about curfews; slumber parties in the middle of the week; ravening hordes of children eating, as a mid-afternoonsnack, the one absolutely essential ingredient of the dinner she had planned and not even telling her. Summer was wet swimming suits left on beds and wasp stings.
On the other hand, summer also meant real tomatoes at roadside stands instead of the mealy imitations in the grocery store. No math papers to help with. Sleeping with the windows wide open and waking up to the sound of birds instead of the alarm clock. No hideous heating bills or snow shoveling or money spent dry cleaning sweaters. Yes, summer had its compensations.
She scooped the boys up, took them home to change clothes and have a snack, then drove them and Shelley to the first soccer practice of the season with the new coach. Their former coach had moved away and the new volunteer was a very good-looking man who introduced himself to the kids and parents as Tony Belton. Normally Shelley and Jane dropped the boys off for practice and fetched them later, but with a new coach, it was de rigueur to sit through at least one practice.
Tony Belton was thirty-ish and had soccer-player legs that looked extremely good in shorts. There was a romantic, European look about him. He had dark curly hair, black eyelashes, and startlingly light blue eyes. He was also very personable, and talked a bit about how much soccer had meant to him as a kid and the values of learning teamwork. It was the same sort of rah-rah stuff coaches always spouted, but coming from him, it seemed fresh and sincere.
“Isn't it wonderful of him to have had this session today?" a woman sitting next to Jane and Shelley said as Tony Belton and the boys took to the field.
“Wonderful," Jane said, perplexed. "But why today especially?"
“Well, his partner died just a few hours ago. I imagine he's devastated."
“His partner?" Shelley asked.
“Robert Stonecipher. You know, that lawyer who's always starting trouble."
“He really did die?" Jane asked.
The woman nodded. "Killed by a rack of hams that fell over on him at the deli opening. It sounds so silly."
“I know. We were there when it happened," Jane said. "So Tony Belton is his law partner?”
She and Shelley exchanged a quick glance that said Tony Belton was either a very good actor, or he wasn't exactly devastated by his partner's death.
Soccer practice was mercifully short because the grade school graduation was that night. When they arrived home, Mike had his new truck in the driveway showing it off to Jane's daughter Katie and her friend Jenny. “Way cool, Mom!" Katie cooed.
Jane knew exactly what this meant: that Katie considered Mike's graduation present a precedent to be met in two years when she graduated. This was something Jane had considered — but apparently not seriously enough.
“It is not a graduation present, Katie. It's because Mike needed it for his job." But Katie's grin at this disclaimer said it all. She'd have a delivery job, too, when the time came. Jane patted the hood of the station wagon and said, "Pull yourself together, old dear. We're in this together for life." She added, "Mike, why are you here instead of working?"
“I was delivering dinner to Mrs. Williams and saw Katie in the yard. I'm off. Oh, by the way, Mom, Mrs. Baker's in the hospital."
“Oh, no! What happened to her?”
Mike came over to talk to her quietly without his siblings listening. "She went to pieces about that guy dying. I mean, it was awful and I'm glad I wasn't there, but she just went bonkers and they took her away, too. Just thought you might want to know. You going to the twerp's graduation tonight? That's kinda dumb, a grade school graduation."
“You didn't think so when it was yours," Jane said.
“Sure I did. I just went along with it for your sake," Mike said with a grin. "See you later. Scott and I are going out after work to show off The Beast."
“Don't be late. Tomorrow's going to be a long day. Remember, you have to be up early to pick up your cap and gown.”
Mike had to practically peel his younger brother and sister off his new truck before he could get away.
Jane threw together a quick dinner and hastily sewed a button on the shirt Todd was wearing that evening. Thanks to a revolt among the parents two years earlier, the boys no longer had to wear expensive little suits they'd outgrow in two weeks for the grade school commencement, as they had when Mike graduated. The girls still insisted on dressing like princesses, but the boys only had to be forced into button-up shirts and ties.
The ceremony, Jane had to admit, was charming. Partly because it didn't have any genuine significance like a high school graduation, and also because the school principal didn't appear to take it terribly seriously. It was more of a party atmosphere than a mock-serious occasion. There was a processional — nobody had figured out a way to avoid that — and a mercifully short speech by the principal, then a couple upbeat songs by the chorus and the awarding of certificates of graduation. It was over in just under forty-five minutes. Andthat included the punch and cookies afterward.
“Wow, that was almost painless," Shelley said as they walked back to the car. Their boys trailed behind them. "Well, except for your mother-in-law being there.”
Thelma Jeffry had insisted on trying to treat it as a maudlin occasion, but Shelley and Jane had both been so relentlessly cheerful that she couldn't carry it off. "Just wait until tomorrow if you think she was bad tonight," Jane said. "Mike is the first grandchild to graduate from high school. She'll pull out all the stops."
“I told you to lie about the date," Shelley said.
Jane laughed. "I couldn't talk the printer into faking a separate announcement."
“There's probably a black market. You just didn't try hard enough.”
When they got home, Katie reported curtly that Mel VanDyne had called and left a message that he'd like to come by later in the evening if it was convenient. Mel was what Katie referred to archly as Jane's "significant other" since she felt it was undignified for her mother to have a "boyfriend." Especially since she didn't have a boyfriend of her own.
Mel was also a police detective, and Katie's version of his message sounded official. "Wonder what he wants?" Jane asked. "He was supposed to be on duty tonight so he can help me chaperone the all-night high school party tomorrow."
“What a fun date you are," Shelley said. "Coffee?" Jane asked.
“Oh, maybe half a cup. Was that an expression of disapproval?" she added, gesturing toward the door Katie'd gone through.
Jane nodded. "It comes and goes. She likes Mel. She doesn't like me and Mel. She was still Daddy's little girl when Steve died, and she goes through spells of idolizing him and thinking, like Thelma does, that I should have gone into permanent mourning."
“It's just her hormones," Shelley said. "If it weren't that, it would be something else. Denise has decided that I willfully and deliberately passed on my straight-hair genes to her."
“She's right, isn't she?" Jane said, grinning as she plugged in the coffeemaker.
“Of course she is. And wait till she sees what happens to her thighs when she turns thirty if she thinks straight hair is bad.”
They were both on their second cup of coffee and happily rummaging through a furniture catalog when Mel arrived.
“This isn't the visit where you say you can't help chaperone and I have to rip out your throat, is it?" Jane greeted him.
“No — not quite. This is an official visit."
“Not the parking ticket!" Shelley exclaimed. "The officer said—”
He held up both hands. "No, I just need some in
formation.”
Jane supplied him with coffee and put a plate of sugar cookies on the coffee table in the living room. "Don't even think about it, Willard," she said sternly to the big yellow dog who shambled out of the dining room when he heard the plate being set down. Willard sprawled on the floor at Mel's feet and gazed up at him soulfully.
“You two were at the opening of the deli at the end of the next block this afternoon, weren't you?”
Mel was a few years younger than Jane, which always made her slightly uncomfortable, but today he looked tired and annoyed and not quite so young.
“We were. Unfortunately," Shelley answered.
“I wonder if you could each make a list of everybody you remember seeing there and approximate times. And then I'll need to know which of those people had any connection with Robert Stonecipher that you know of."
“Mel, what's this about?" Jane asked. "It was just an accident and—"
“Jane, somebody else said they saw you in the storeroom after it happened.”
She nodded. "I was, for a second."
“And you saw that rack?"
“The one with the hams that fell over? Yes, of course."
“Did you notice the base of it? The legs?"
“I didn't pay any attention," Jane replied.
Mel sighed. "Well, if you had, you'd have realized right away that it couldn't possibly fall over by itself. It had to be pushed. Hard."
“Somebody killed Stonecipher?" Jane exclaimed.
“It sure looks like it," Mel said grimly.
4
"Mike!" Jane exclaimed. "He can't go back there!"
“What?" Mel asked, disconcerted by the sudden shift in the conversation.
“My son cannot work where somebody is killing people!"
“Hold it, Jane. We have no idea yet what really happened. Someone may have pushed it over without knowing he was behind it or—"
“It doesn't matter."
“Look, Jane, I think you should just cool down a little before you make a snap decision," he said warily.
“Mel's right," Shelley said. "Besides everything else, Stonecipher was a jerk who probably had more enemies than we could guess. Even if someone did kill him, that doesn't mean they'd harm anybody else."
“Jane—" Mel said hesitantly, "you know I'd never butt in on your mothering and I'm not now, but I was once an eighteen-year-old boy myself." He paused, waiting to see how this was going over. When Jane merely stared back at him, he went on, "Boys that age are awfully sensitive about having their mothers tell them what to do. And Mike's a sensible, responsible kid, which would make it even harder for him to take being treated like a child.”
Shelley backed him up. "Jane, I'd feel just like you do, but Mel has a point. Mike thinks he's the one who takes care of you. To be told you've decided he has to quit his job would be really tough on him."
“Not as tough as getting killed," Jane said.
“Jane, think about it," Shelley said. "If some madman killed Stonecipher at random, he's unlikely to keep coming back to the deli. And Mike's hardly ever there anyway except to pick up orders to deliver. It's not as if he's the night watchman or anything. And if Stonecipher was killed by somebody who meant to go after him specifically, Mike's in no danger in that case either.”
Jane shook her head. "My brain knows you're both right, but my heart doesn't agree.”
Mel, having given his one piece of advice, waited patiently. Shelley said, "If you want my advice — and even if you don't — I think you ought to tell Mike how you feel, but leavethe decision up to him. That's how you always operate with him."
“But it's too late for him to get another job for the summer, and you know kids his age have no sense of their own mortality," Jane objected.
“But he cares a lot for your welfare, Janey," Mel said. "And as the investigating officer in this matter, I have to say I don't believe he's in any danger. No more than we're all in, all the time."
“Just consider it, Jane," Shelley put in.
“Okay, okay. I'll think about it before I say anything." She took a deep breath and said, "All right, Mel. What did you want of us? Neither of us saw anything happen."
“Yes, but you saw who was there. Would you both write down everybody you can remember, then we'll talk about your lists.”
Jane went to the desk and took out two legal pads she used for taking phone messages. She and Shelley separately composed their lists, asking occasional questions of each other. "What's the name of that woman with the weird apricot-colored hair?”
“Who's that guy who always wears the checked flannel shirts?”
“Did I really see Milly Vogrin or do I just think I did because I see her everywhere?”
Finally, when they'd written down all the names they knew, Mel copied it onto one list, eliminating duplicates, and started going through it name by name.
“To your knowledge, do any of these people have any connection to Robert Stonecipher?”
To the first couple names, both women shook their heads helplessly.
“What about Charles and LeAnne Doherty," Mel asked, working his way down the list.
“He was LeAnne's attorney when they got divorced," Shelley said.
“Divorced? But they were there together?" Mel asked.
“They remarried."
“Oh, my gosh!" Jane exclaimed. "Stonecipher was her attorney?"
“What's so surprising about that?" Mel asked.
“I guess it shouldn't be a surprise. It's just that LeAnne never mentioned his name. She just called him — well, never mind. You see, they got divorced and LeAnne just picked somebody out of the phone book to represent her. And he absolutely cleaned Charles out. Left him virtually broke. LeAnne was real pissed and didn't care."
“Wait — how do you know this?" Mel asked. "She told me, of course," Jane said. "We were room mothers together last year. So her attorney — Stonecipher as it now turns out— wrung Charles dry. But when all the dust had settled, LeAnne discovered that she only got a pittance. Everything had disappeared into legal fees. She even went to another lawyer to try to recover some of it, and he pretty much told her she'd been a dummy. Anyhow, it created a weird kind of bond between her and Charles and they eventually got back together. They went to marriage therapy and so on and got married all over again. Which was great for them, but they hardly had anything left to live on. They had to declare bankruptcy and start over. Charles had worked for a bank or a mortgage company or something like that."
“Euuw," Shelley put in. "Companies like that aren't wild about bankrupt employees."
“Right. He lost his job and they both had to work like dogs to get back up to speed. They finally got enough saved to open that little cubbyhole dry cleaners next to the grocery store."
“I'd never heard this story," Shelley said somewhat resentfully. "I knew about the divorce and remarriage, but not the rest of it. I only knew Stonecipher was her lawyer because somebody at the bake sale was asking about divorce attorneys, and she said he'd represented her and she warned everybody to stay away from him."
“Was she angry when she said that?" Mel asked.
Jane and Shelley realized at the same instant that they'd been making a case against the Dohertys. "No, no!" Shelley said hastily. "More wry and embarrassed than angry. It was a couple years ago and they've got it together now and I'm sure—”
Jane put her hand over her mouth. "What?" Mel asked.
“Nothing."
“Janey," he said sternly.
“Well, you'll find out anyway, I guess. I was reading that little 'good news' newspaper/ shopper thing we usually let turn to mulch in the driveway last week and saw something about the city council meeting. Apparently Stonecipher was threatening a lawsuit against a dry cleaners. Something about hazardous chemicals. I don't think the article mentioned which one it was, but it could have been the Dohertys."
“I'll check it out," Mel said. "So they were both there at the deli opening?"
Mel cleared his throat.
“Well," Shelley huffed, "LeAnne was there, but I'm not sure about Charles.”
Mel went back to the list. "I understand both Stonecipher and a man named Foster Hanlon were trying to get the deli shut down, and Hanlon was there as well."
“They came together," Jane said. "Well, at about the same time, anyway. But Hanlon was on Stonecipher's side of the dispute."
“As far as we know," Shelley said ominously.
“What do you mean?" Mel asked.
“Just that sometimes generals disagree with each other," Shelley said. "They were both almost professional troublemakers. Maybe Stonecipher took the lead and Hanlon didn't like the way he handled it and blamed Stonecipher for losing the battle."
“Shelley, that's crazy," Jane said. "Killing somebody over a zoning ordinance?"
“Killing somebody over anything is crazy," Shelley reminded her. "And it could have been accidental. Suppose they got into a shouting match in the storage room and Hanlon got so furious he wanted to take a shot at Stonecipher and angrily shoved at the rack instead?”
Jane made a so-so motion with her hand. "Maybe. Except I don't think there was a shouting match. I was in the bathroom and heard the crash and I hadn't heard yelling before that."
“Well, a hissing match, then," Shelley persisted.
“You'd really like it to be Hanlon, huh?" Jane said, smiling.
“I wouldn't mind. Remember when I was on that planning committee for the well-baby clinic and he made such a nasty flap?"
“Only vaguely."
“He was certain that what he called 'riffraff' was going to descend on us like locusts. To hear him tell it, wild-eyed pinko liberals were going to hire buses to gather up mothers and children from the streets of inner-city Chicago and bring them out here for free treatment." Shelley paused. "Which sounded like a pretty good idea to me, actually. There was a strong odor of bigotry about the whole thing. Ugh. Nasty man," she said, shuddering elaborately.
Silence of the Hams jj-7 Page 3
