She turned over the slip of paper on which Emma had written her address.
“If you didn't know her, why did you come?" the officer asked.
“Plain old curiosity," Jane admitted.
“And you, ma'am," he said, looking at Shelley. "Were you invited, too?"
“No, I just came with my friend Jane.”
“What was this appointment about?" he asked.
“I have no idea," Jane said. "As I told you, I hardly knew her. But her boss died at the deli where my son works. I was present at the time. Maybe she wanted to ask me about it. Or just have someone sympathize. I don't know."
“Sympathize?"
“It was a small office. She might have been out of a job for all I know," Jane said. She'd promised Patsy she'd tell Mel about the argument Patsy had overheard, but she felt she should tell Mel directly. "If you're through with us, I need to get home," she added.
“I guess VanDyne knows where to find you?" the officer asked.
Jane didn't like his wink-wink-nudge-nudge tone, but decided she wasn't in a strong position to get huffy. "I think so," she said stiffly.
She and Shelley went back to the car in silence and Jane drove out of the apartment complex and straight through the drive-up lane of a fast-food restaurant on the next corner. She ordered two coffees and pulled over under a shade tree a block away.
“Jeez!" Shelley said. It was the first time she'd spoken since they left Emma's.
They sat sipping their drinks in silence for a long while. "I guess the investigation into Stonecipher's death is back on," Jane said. "Mel's going to find a way to blame me."
“Jane, just think. . if we'd come early, we might have found her! If you think you're in trouble with him now, imagine what that would have been like."
“Oh, God! You're right, Shelley! We might have even stumbled into the middle of it happening.”
The enormity of this rendered them both silent again. Finally, Jane said, "I have to go home and start dinner.”
When they reached Jane's driveway, Shelley said, "Call me if you hear anything more from Mel. I just can't take this in."
“I guess the only good thing about this is that it's clearly something personal with Stonecipher's office or home life. Nothing to do with the deli. Thank heaven! Still, I wish Mike had a nice summer job in Timbuktu and none of this had ever happened.”
"Where's Mike?" she asked Katie, who was standing in front of the open refrigerator doorlooking as if she'd come to the end of a long quest and had found out that the prince really was a frog.
“At work. And Todd's upstairs on the phone with Elliot. What's for dinner? There's nothing in here.”
Jane joined her. "Somebody ate the last of the turkey, didn't they? I guess I'm going to have to do a grocery store run. Help me make a list.”
They sat down at the kitchen table and wrote down everything they'd need for the next couple days. Somehow this included a lot of soft drinks, chips, dip, and even blusher and pantyhose for Katie. Jane looked at the list, put her head in her hands. "I can't face it. I hate the grocery store. I've spent half my adult life there." ‑
“Then let's have something from the deli," Katie suggested. "I want that deviled ham sandwich they make."
“Sounds good to me. Find out what Todd wants. We'll do this grocery run tomorrow.”
Jane parked in front of the deli, surprised there weren't more cars around and disappointed that Mike's new truck wasn't among them. Conrad was at the counter. The only other customer was leaving. "I guess Mike isn't around?" Jane asked.
“No, he's making deliveries," Conrad said. "You need him? I could give you the list of addresses and you could try to catch up with him."
“No, I was just wondering. Actually, I need dinner for my family. You've ruined me for cooking.”
Grace Axton came in from the kitchen behind the counter area. "Hi, Jane. I thought that was your voice. What do you need?" Jane told her and Grace said, "Conrad, sit down and rest. I can fix these things without messing anything up.”
Conrad came around the counter and sat down at one of the little tables with Jane. He was limping. "You've hurt yourself?" Jane asked.
“Just a blister on my heel. Do you mind if I take my shoe off?"
“Not in the least. I hardly ever wear shoes unless I leave the house. And then I can never find a pair that matches.”
Conrad took off his shoe, dropped it on the floor, and happily massaged his aching stockinged foot. "That boy of yours is really something, Mrs. Jeffry."
“Please, I'm Jane. Mike is terrific, isn't he?"
“Do you realize he came in early and tidied up the yard and mowed the lawn this morning? Nobody asked him to, he just thought it needed doing. What a kid!"
“And he'd been up all night at the graduation party," Jane bragged. "He's okay."
“I think I'm going to need another driver. I thought most people would come in for things, but the delivery service is, so far, much more popular. There's too much for just him. Grace had to help with the afternoon deliveries. Mike suggested his friend Scott. I guess if Mike says he's responsible, he really is.”
Jane laughed. "Scott looks like a misplaced beach bum, but he is responsible. And the girls adore him. He'll make your delivery service even more popular."
“How you doing, Grace?" Conrad called. "I'm hurrying," she replied. There was a thud and a muffled "Dammit."
“Don't hurry, Grace," Jane said. "I'm not in a rush. If Conrad would give me a glass of iced tea, I wouldn't care if it took an hour.”
Conrad limped off to get them both a glass of tea.
“How's Sarah doing?" Jane said when he returned to the table.
“Oh, fine. Just fine," he said too heartily. "Doctor says she can come home tomorrow. She's just overworked. I'll make sure she takes it easier from now on.”
Jane waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more. "So the business is doing okay? The incident at the opening didn't matter?"
“Incident? Oh, yeah. Made no difference at all. I thought at first that's why so many people were ordering out — because they were afraid to come in — but now I think it's just that they like having their food delivered. Every order has a menu in it, so it's easy to know what we've got without having to see it. In fact, one of the orders Mike's delivering now is for a party. The folks just said to send them a nice casual dinner for six. Didn't even care what it was."
“That's a real credit to you," Jane said.
“I hope so. Hope it keeps on. We thought business would be slower to pick up.”
The door opened and Patsy Mallett came in. Conrad hopped up to run behind the counter and take her order. "Jane, you caught me being a lazy slob," Patsy said, joining her at the little table.
“And you caught me, too," Jane said.
Patsy glanced down and rolled Conrad's shoe over with her toe. "What's this?"
“Conrad's got a blister." Jane lowered her voice to a near whisper. "I'll wait for your order to be ready. I need to talk to you."
“I thought you might," Patsy said, speaking very quietly, too. "I was just at the school making sure everything was taken down and properly stored. I heard about Emma from somebody who lives near her.”
They waited, chatting about the school party. "Did your son enjoy the party?" Patsy asked.
“He loved it. And he came home with aportable CD player for his truck, which thrilled him," Jane said.
When their orders were both ready, Jane followed Patsy to her car, a station wagon even more beat-up and rust-ridden than Jane's. "Did you talk to your detective friend yet?”
— Patsy asked.
“I haven't had a chance. I didn't tell him right away because — I suppose you've heard by now — Stonecipher wasn't killed by that rack falling on him. He died of a heart attack."
“I heard that at the school, too, but wasn't sure it was true. But Emma—?"
“Emma was murdered," Jane said. "She'd asked me to come over and M
el knows that, so I'm sure I'll hear from him as soon as he's free."
“This puts a different spin on Stonecipher's death, doesn't it?" Patsy said, frowning.
“I'm sure it must. The two deaths must be connected somehow."
“I didn't want to be a busybody and gossip about Emma, as you know. But with her dead, I'll be happy to tell the police anything that might help them. I didn't like her, but I didn't want her killed. And whoever did it has to be stopped."
“Patsy, who else was around when you heard the fight between her and Stonecipher?" "Nobody that I know of. It was late in the day and there were no clients waiting to see anyone. In fact, the waiting room was empty. I don't know if the receptionist had already gone home or was just in the copying machine room."
“Could she have overheard from there?”
“Probably."
“And was Tony Belton around?”
Patsy thought for a minute. "I didn't see him. And his office door was closed. He'd probably already left, but I wouldn't swear to it."
“Could he have heard them if he were still there?"
“I imagine so. His office and Robert's share a wall. Why?"
“I don't know. I'm just wondering who else might have heard the dispute. Someone else who had an interest. Who is the receptionist?"
“A little mousy girl named Sandy. She looks about twelve, but she's got three kids, so she must not be."
“Might she have been interested in Stonecipher? I mean romantically interested?"
“Oh, no. I think she thought of him as a well-preserved grandpa type. You know how young women sometimes are with older men — talk to them sort of loud like they might be getting deaf. And even though the office was very first-name basis, she always called him Mr. Stonecipher."
“What about Tony Belton? Somebody men‑ tioned that it was unusual for somebody without kids of their own to be coaching a soccer team, but is he married?"
“I presume he was and he does have kids. At least one. There's a picture of a cute little boy on his desk. I asked about it, and he said it was his son who lived with his mother in Seattle or Portland or someplace in the Northwest."
“ 'His,' meaning the boy's mother, or 'his,' meaning Tony's mother?"
“The boy's mother. Why?"
“I don't know. Just wondered. Say, Patsy, have you ever been at the office when Rhonda was there?”
Patsy gave Jane a sharp look and said warily, "As a matter of fact, I have. Why do you ask?"
“Well, it's just that when Shelley and I went over to her house yesterday, Tony Belton was there and they seemed. ." Jane paused, trying to think of a tactful phrase.
Patsy supplied it. "Chummy?"
“To say the least."
“I thought so, too, the one time I saw them together. But I thought maybe it was just her manner with men. Some women get around anybody male and turn into flirts," Patsy said.
“I don't think she's one of them."
“I've got to get this food home before my husband comes looking for me," Patsy said, opening her car door.
“I'm sorry to have been so nosy," Jane said.
“No, the police are surely going to ask me the same things and I might as well start getting my memory in gear.”
Jane drove home so deep in thought that she almost missed her own driveway.
12
Jane had a message to call Mel when she got home. She did so and told him briefly that he needed to speak to Patsy Mallett and why. She gave him Patsy's phone number, and hearing the rush and irritation in his voice, hung up as quickly as possible.
Mike came home, showered, changed clothes, and went back out for the evening with Scott and a couple of his other pals. Katie asked to have her friend Jenny spend the night. Jenny arrived with enough luggage for a European Grand Tour, and the girls disappeared into Katie's room for the evening. Elliot and Todd took over the living room television to watch ninja movies.
Jane tidied up the kitchen and gave Willard a long pet. "Nobody's paid much attention to you lately, have they, old boy?" she said, scratching behind his ears, which he loved. Knowing, by feline radar, that there was affection being given to pets, Max and Meow appeared, wanting their fair share. Jane petted them, and in an excess of fondness, gave them each some vile kitty treats the kids had forced her to buy. The cats loved them, but would probably throw them up somewhere later. They usually did.
Jane had heard that pets lowered your blood pressure, reduced stress, and all sorts of other good things. Most of the time she didn't believe it. Willard, Max, and Meow were normally just three more children to keep tabs on, but this evening, she did find that a visit with them was pleasant and relaxing.
“At least I don't have to put you guys through college or worry that you'll marry somebody who hates me and wants to take you away to Paris to live," she said.
Willard rolled over for a tummy rub and Meow made a gagging noise.
Jane puttered. She started some laundry, changed the kitty litter, threw out nearly everything in the refrigerator, and sorted through some seed packets she'd ordered in January from a catalog and never got around to planting. She considered spending a few hours with Priscilla on the computer, but decided she'd had enough of words and of talking for one day. She wasn't so much tired as she was tired of conversation and of thinking. She needed something mindless. Like cooking.
No, nothing in the house to cook. So she cleaned off the kitchen table and got out a jigsaw puzzle.
By nine-thirty, she had the border finished and had almost completed the big building in the middle. The phone rang.
“Got plans for tomorrow morning?" Mel asked.
“How early?" she asked warily.
“Ten?"
“That's possible. I never make the kids get up for church on the first Sunday of the summer. But the pantry is bare. Don't expect breakfast."
“I'll take you out then. We've never had breakfast together. Well, except that one time—" he said with a very pleasant leer in his voice.
Jane blushed. The breakfast he referred to was a room service meal the morning of the first night they'd spent together. And halfway through it, they'd found something much more fun to do than eating. Best meal she'd ever not eaten.
“I'm not sure a public restaurant would be suitable for the way we conduct ourselves at breakfast."
“Oh, I think I can manage to keep my clothes on if you can," he said.
She laughed a bit breathlessly and then said, more seriously, "You sound tired. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."
“Janey, this is an official visit—"
“I was afraid it might be. Tomorrow.”
She drove Elliot home, dropped off the movies the boys had rented, and went home to bed and tried not to think about sex.
She would love to have invited Mel over for the night, but that would violate her own rules. She didn't believe in having an affair in the same house her kids were in. Not that they didn't know the nature of the relationship — well, Todd seemed unaware that Mel was anything more than Mom's friend. Katie understood, but doggedly pretended not to, which left her in the difficult position of having to both ignore and disapprove of the same thing. Only Mike seemed okay with it. Jane knew her attitude was stodgy and priggish, but she couldn't help it. And she suspected that Mel, while he claimed to be perplexed by her attitude, didn't truly relish the idea of making love to her in the same bed she'd shared with her husband.
In the morning, she left the still-sleeping kids a note and sat down on the front porch to wait for Mel. When he drove up, she went straight to his little red MG and hopped in. "You look great," he said.
She had a new summer dress Shelley had forced her to buy. It was an old-fashioned white eyelet fabric lined with a pale blue fabric, and had a rather naked bodice held up by spaghetti straps. "I'd look like a beached albino whale in that!" Jane had said when Shelley whipped the dress off the rack and held it up.
“No, you'll look great. Tan is out th
ese days," Shelley had assured her. "And you can wear a nice lacy summer sweater with it if you want.”
Apparently Shelley had been right. As usual.
“Thanks, Mel. I feel like I'm going around in public in a nightgown, but Shelley assures me I'm stylish. You look good, too.”
They went to a restaurant a few miles away that specialized in fancy brunches. Jane managed to put away most of a mushroom and artichoke omelet without spilling anything on herself. Mel knocked back eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns, grilled tomatoes, an enormous sweet roll, two glasses of orange juice, and coffee. "If I ate that much, you'd have to roll me home," Jane complained.
They chatted about various harmless subjects while they ate — the graduation, Mike's new truck, and their plans for a weekend in Wisconsin later in the month. They were very careful not to talk about the recent deaths. When they left the restaurant, Mel drove to a nearby park where they could speak privately. Mel got out, removed a briefcase from the trunk of the car, and sat back down to rummage for a moment among the papers inside. He handed Jane a photocopy of a typed sheet.
“Take a look," he said.
She skimmed it quickly. "It's notes from the time I talked to Stonecipher about setting up trusts for my kids," she said, giving it back.
“And this one?" He gave her another photocopy. This was handwritten. And the sketchy phrases were about Jane's late husband — his date of death, his involvement in the family pharmacy business, his income. There were notes about Thelma, including a few rash, if not downright insulting, remarks Jane had made about her. And another about the pharmacy having difficulties with the IRS with the comment, "Fraud?" underlined.
Jane felt herself grow hot and uncomfortable. She gave the paper back to Mel, even though what she wanted to do was crumple it and throw it away.
Mel put it back in the briefcase. "The first sheet was from your file in Stonecipher's office. The official file. The second was in a folder in Emma Weyrich's bedroom.”
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