Silence of the Hams jj-7

by Jill Churchill

  “The thing wrong with this is that it goes back to planning. In the first place, I can't imagine Rhonda letting go of the source of her funds. She had to know that divorcing him was really going to cut into her budget. So she'd be better off financially if he were dead.

  If we suppose that she's capable of murder, why didn't she make a good plan to start with and kill him off?”

  Shelley got up and poured the coffee. "I don't know. Maybe she'd decided that even the money didn't make it worth living with him, but he was even uglier about it than she anticipated."

  “How do you mean?" Jane said, blowing on her drink.

  “Oh, maybe he'd seen it coming and put everything they owned into a corporation in his name."

  “Can you do that?"

  “I think if you're a sharp, stingy attorney who thinks his wife is about to make off with your money, there are a lot of things you can do. Remember that doctor who used to live on the other side of Suzie's house? He divorced his wife and went right out, bought a huge house with a pool, drove his fancy cars, lived like a king with his bimbo girlfriend, and she and the kids had to go on welfare.”

  Jane nodded. "Maybe Stonecipher threatened to dump Tony, too. If he knew about their relationship — if there is a relationship."

  “Maybe," Shelley allowed. "But wouldn't a sharp young attorney be able to make it on his own?"

  “If he is sharp. He may be a lousy attorney — with great legs and to-die-for eyes."

  “Then why would Stonecipher take him on?"

  “To have someone to do the boring, routine stuff and attract a lot of women clients?" Jane suggested. "But let's assume he was bright. Why couldn't he be the murderer?"

  “In cahoots with Rhonda?"

  “Let's say not," Jane said. "Suppose Rhonda flings herself at him, says she's divorcing her husband and wants him instead? If he has any sense, he knows he's about to acquire a very expensive woman and will probably end up out of a job besides. Assuming he's interested in acquiring her, what better way to handle it than to get Robert out of the way entirely? He'd get the woman, the business, all the money.”

  Shelley got up and topped off her coffee. "But we're back to planning versus passion again. This scenario for Tony presumes cold-blooded premeditation, and shoving a rack of hams onto someone in a crowded deli is stupid and dangerous. It seems like a real fluke that anybody got away with it.”

  Jane sighed. "That's the real problem, isn't it? Why would anybody take a chance like that? It really had to be a spur-of-the-moment thing to do. It's too dumb to be anything else. Or we're too dumb to see the truth."

  “Stick your turkey in the oven and take your nap," Shelley said as she got up and rinsed out her coffee cup. "Maybe your subconscious will work out the answer."

  “You've got a lot more faith in my subconscious than I do."

  “I have no faith whatsoever in your subconscious, but if you try to serve your mother-in-law an undercooked turkey breast, I'll never hear the end of it.”

  The turkey was a great success. So was the dressing, the mashed potatoes, the gravy, and the corn casserole. In fact, Thelma Jeffry couldn't find anything to complain about except that cranberry sauce gave her a rash. "Then don't eat any, Grandma," Todd suggested sensibly.

  Jane's honorary uncle Jim, a former army officer and lifelong friend of her parents, was there, too, standing in for them. And he was as proud of Mike as a real grandfather. Jane's brother-in-law Ted was there as well, doing his best to be a substitute dad. Ted's wife, Dixie Lee, presented Mike with an envelope containing a surprisingly generous check, and Jane's sister Marty, with her instinctive bad timing, called just as they started eating to wish Mike a great graduation.

  “It's too bad your parents couldn't make it here for the big day," Thelma said as they were finishing up what everyone agreed was the best cherry cobbler Jane had ever made.

  Mike, recognizing this as the sly criticism it was meant to be, fluffed up like an offended rooster. "Grumps is halfway around the world and they're hosting a diplomatic meeting that's been planned for two years."

  “Oh, I didn't mean to imply—”

  Jane had to start clearing the table to hide her smile.

  “Gotta go, Mom. Everybody," Mike said.

  “Mike! You're not wearing Bermuda shorts to graduate, are you?" Jane exclaimed.

  “It doesn't make any difference. We're all wearing those silly long black dresses anyway, and the party after graduation is casual.”

  When Mike had gone, twirling his cap and carrying the hated gown as if it were a lab experiment gone wrong, Thelma said to Katie, "When I graduated from high school, we wore long white gowns and carried roses. It was girls' school—”

  While Thelma told her story, which Jane feared would make Katie think going to an exclusive private school might be fun, Jane and Uncle Jim finished clearing the table.

  “Sorry your folks aren't here, honey?" he said as he rinsed the dishes and handed them to her to put in the dishwasher.

  “Not at all. We've got you," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

  “You've raised a good boy, Janey."

  “I've had a lot of help. And if you say one more nice thing, I'll burst into tears and have to be led, sobbing uncontrollably, to the graduation. I'm having a real sappy week.”

  9

  The graduation was marvelous. It had all the sentimentality such occasions deserved. The valedictorian gave a talk that relied much too heavily on a thesaurus and was virtually incomprehensible, but had the virtue of relative brevity. The school orchestra, even without the seniors playing, did a more than credible "Pomp and Circumstance." A local minister gave a short inspirational talk that managed to suggest prayer without actually indulging in it. The teacher who read the graduates' names had done her job well, and as far as Jane could tell, didn't mispronounce a single one. She even breezed through the exchange students easily.

  The graduates all looked beautiful, even the oily-haired, pimpled ones. It was that kind of event.

  Todd was bored senseless; Katie was enthralled; Thelma watched like a hawk for glitches and found precious little to criticize. Mel, who met them at the stadium at the last moment, merely looked glad to sit down. Jane's sister-in-law Dixie Lee, who had no children, but had recently suffered a second miscarriage, cried more than Jane. And Ted, normally an extremely quiet, reserved man, astonished them all, including himself probably, by yelping approval when Mike's name was called out.

  The system for keeping all the graduates sober and safe meant they were all funneled directly from the ceremony into the school building. Thelma was indignant until Jane explained that families could go into the school to congratulate their own — if they thought they could find them in the melee. Ted and Dixie Lee offered to wait in the car for her, but were persuaded instead to take Todd and Katie home. Jane's Uncle Jim volunteered to accompany Thelma on her quest and drive her home. Considering that he could hardly stand to be in the same room with her, it was a credit to his devotion to Jane's family and his gentlemanly instincts — or perhaps to his long military training in coping with the enemy and a longing to brush up his skills — that he made this offer.

  As they headed toward the building, someone put a hand on Jane's arm. She turned, and it took her a moment to place the woman speaking to her. It was Emma Weyrich, the aerobics instructor who had also been Robert Stonecipher's paralegal.

  “Emma, what are you doing here?" Jane asked. "Do you have a child graduating?”

  This was the wrong thing to say. Emma was too young for that and took offense. "Of course not. My sister's daughter graduated tonight. My older sister."

  “Sorry. Of course. I was just surprised to see you. I'm sorry about your boss.”

  Emma's normally pretty features hardened. "Yeah, well. It was a surprise.”

  What an odd reaction, Jane thought. Not exactly remorseful.

  “Listen, Jane, we need to talk."

  “Oh? I can't now."

&
nbsp; “I didn't mean here and now. How about tomorrow?"

  “Okay, but late in the day."

  “What time?"

  “Four?" Jane suggested. "Want to meet somewhere?"

  “No, come to my apartment," Emma said curtly. She took a little notepad out of her pocket to write an address and handed it to Jane. "Be prompt," she warned Jane, handing her the slip of paper before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

  “What was that about?" Mel asked. He'd gone ahead a ways before realizing he'd lost her.

  “I haven't any idea, but it was rude. I've been summoned to her presence. Four o'clock tomorrow and I'm not to dawdle around and be late. She probably noticed the way my skirt fit and wants to harass me into more exercise," Jane said, trying to make light of her anger.

  “Don't go," Mel said.

  “Why not?”

  Mel sighed. "I'll tell you later. When we have some time to talk."

  “She's a suspect! You think she killed Stonecipher!"

  “Shh. Keep your voice down. No, she didn't kill Stonecipher.”

  It took Jane only a moment to absorb the implication of this statement. "If you know she didn't, then you must know who did. Has there been an arrest?"

  “Jane, keep quiet. Later.”

  She knew that tone. She stopped asking questions.

  Even though she'd worked on the decorations, Jane was astonished when she saw the final transformation of the school. By half-closing her eyes, she could imagine she was in a fancy resort hotel. The materials might be sheets, crepe paper, and dime-store glitter, but the overall look was glitzy and fun. After an hour or so when all the grandmothers, uncles,and little sisters had left, the kids settled in to have a good time.

  Someone had thoughtfully provided comfortable chairs at the door Jane and Mel were to guard, and the two of them settled in. They were, unfortunately, just across the hall from the room where the country music band was playing. Jane wasn't much of a fan of country music and decided she'd either be a convert or a raving maniac by the time the night was over. She told herself to remember that it could have been worse. They could have been cheek by jowl with a rap group. Mel slouched and took a nap despite the noise and bustle around them. This performance amazed Jane.

  She'd brought along a book to read — one of her many-times-reread Dorothy Sayers mysteries. Comfort books, as she thought of them. None of the kids showed the least interest in trying to go out the door, and she was soon immersed in Lord Peter's adventures.

  A little before midnight, the band took an hour break, and the hallway emptied. The quiet woke Mel up. He roamed away in search of food and eventually came back with chicken salad sandwiches, chips, and soft drinks. They ate in silence, and when they were done, he said, "You're being awfully patient. It's sort of scary.”

  Jane wiggled her fingers as if barely re‑ straining herself from strangling him. "Mel, I can't stand it anymore. If Emma Whatsername didn't kill Stonecipher, who did?"

  “Nobody," Mel said.

  “What do you mean? I saw him. He was dead. His wife is getting ready to bury him."

  “He died of a heart attack. Natural causes.”

  Jane sat staring at Mel for a long moment. "But — but if he died of a heart attack, why did somebody make it look like he'd been murdered? Mel, that can't be right! He must have had the heart attack when the rack was pushed over on him. That caused it.”

  Mel shook his head. "Nope. The coroner was very sure. He had been dead for at least ten minutes, possibly longer, before the rack went over. I got the word just before I left the office for the graduation."

  “How — why—?"

  “You sound disappointed. I thought you'd be pleased to know," Mel said. "You've been in such a froth about Mike working where there'd been a murder. Now he's not."

  “Oh, I am pleased. But horribly confused."

  “Me, too. But at least it's not a murder investigation anymore."

  “No, it's even stranger. Considering how many enemies Robert Stonecipher had, you'd think whoever found him dead would have started organizing a victory parade, not tried to make it look like he'd been killed. Why would anybody make it look like murder?"

  “I have no idea. But it's not a homicide investigation anymore and I can file all my notes about who was where and when."

  “Why did you tell me not to go to Emma's? Not that I intend to anyway."

  “Because I knew you were considering it in order to snoop. And there's no need."

  “But surely that's not just the end of it."

  “No, I'm sure there's some legal violation in the matter of pushing the rack over on a body. Malicious mischief or something. But it's not my case anymore. I need to stretch my legs for a bit. Do you mind if I go take a look at the setup here? Then I'll spell you if you want to take a nap.”

  Jane, deep in confused thought, waved him away. "Sure. Go ahead.”

  She was still brooding on this bizarre twist when Patsy Mallett, the head of the party organizers, came by on her rounds. "How's it going?" Patsy said, taking the chair Mel had vacated and briefly setting down a notebook — her party bible, she called it — on the floor.

  Patsy was a large, gap-toothed, dynamic woman in her fifties. Nearly eight years ago, she had first come up with the idea of the school-sponsored all-night party. From humble, non-mandatory beginnings (Jane had heard that the first year only twenty rather nerdy kids had been desperate enough for a social activity on graduation night to attend), the party had become THE thing to do and it was all due to Patsy's tremendous energy and planning. She had the rare gift of being able to juggle fifteen committees without ever seeming flurried or harassed. She greeted every crisis with a smile and a shrug and the comment "Not to worry. It'll work out." And it always did with her at the helm.

  “Nobody's tried to make a break for freedom," Jane assured her with a smile.

  “No, they don't much anymore. But we promise the parents the kids can't leave unless a parent fetches them, so we have to guard every door. You have two more children coming up through the grades, don't you, Jane?”

  Jane nodded reluctantly. She knew where this was going.

  “And one's a sophomore next year, right?" Patsy went on. "If you'd choose a committee you'd like to serve on next year, then the year after you might co-chair it. Or at least be ready to co-chair when your third one comes along."

  “Do you know my friend Shelley Nowack?”

  Patsy's eyes lit up. "I've heard of her. I don't believe we've ever met though. I hear she's a very efficient person."

  “She is. She's the kind of chairman you need. I'll talk to her about what committee she'd like and serve with her."

  “Great. We'll get together next week.”

  “So soon?"

  “Jane, this doesn't happen overnight. Next year's committee chairs are already working. Contracts with some suppliers have to be signed years in advance."

  “I'm in awe of how you manage this," Jane said. "Shelley will love knowing you.”

  “I'll share my secret with her," Patsy said, grinning.

  “Secret?"

  “Yes. You know each committee has two co-chairs. I tell people that's in case one gets sick or has to move. But the fact is, I was a history major in college, and I've always remembered something I learned about Henry VIII."

  “Henry VIII?" Jane said, believing she'd misheard.

  “Yes. People think he was a womanizing bumbler. But he wasn't a bumbler. He was a very effective monarch, and he managed it by pairing enemies," Patsy explained. "See, kings had to send off ambassadors to all the other European powers, and while the ambassadors were out of the king's sight, he didn't know what they were up to. Sometimes they weren't as competent or as loyal as they could be and went off on their own agenda instead of the monarch's. So Henry always sent two ambassadors together and made sure they didn't like each other. That way they were forever tattling on each other and he knew exactly what both of them were up to. And since each knew the
other was tattling, each did the best job he could to show off and impress him. Henry got efficiency and comprehensive reports.”

  Jane laughed. "You're not nearly as sweet as you look! Shelley is going to love knowing you, Patsy. I can't believe you model yourself on Henry VIII."

  “I'm getting his figure, that's for sure, and if I didn't keep up on my estrogen, I'd probably have his beard by now," Patsy said. "Still, it's worked out pretty well as a committee philosophy. And if you ever tell anyone but Mrs. Nowack that I said this, I'll deny ever speaking to you," she added with a smile.

  “This is your last child graduating this year, isn't it?" Jane asked.

  Patsy nodded. "Last of five. I'm going to start backing off and spend more time on my own business, which is coming along nicely."

  “You do all this and have a business, too?"

  “Yes, with four of the kids gone, I was driving my husband crazy trying to reorganize him," she said with a laugh. "So I started a billing company. Saves small businesses the cost of a full-time employee for what is really a half-a-day-a-week job. I haven't gotten into medical offices because that's too complex, what with Medicare and insurance, but I have a florist, an office supply store, a secretarial service, and an attorney. Well, I had an attorney until yesterday, but he died."

  “Was that Robert Stonecipher?"

  “Yes, it was. Did you know him?"

  “No, but my son works at the deli where he died and I was there."

  “Terrible thing to have happen," Patsy said. "I hear he was killed.”

  Mel hadn't told Jane the information about Stonecipher having died of natural causes was a secret, but she still didn't feel it was up to her to blab.

  So she kept quiet and Patsy went on. "I can't say I'm too shocked, though. I think the man's life was in terrible disarray."