I grimaced. “The Utah police want her, too, and I’m worried that they’ll find her first. I haven’t heard from Gayle in days. I keep hoping she’ll come back here and deal with our police department, but I’ve no idea what she’ll do.”
“She’ll be safer here, even if they book her until we find the murderer.”
“I’ve been talking to Felicity. She’s the one person Len Lyons would have confided in. I’m hoping eventually she’ll tell me something important. Something real.”
Joy sent me a look of disbelief. “What do you mean—real? Is Felicity delusional?”
I gave a little laugh. “I wonder. She told me that Johnny killed Len.”
“Who’s Johnny? Oh, the guy who killed her ferret.”
“Right. And when I pressed her, she admitted she hasn’t seen him in years.”
Joy sighed. “We can’t depend on anything Felicity tells you. She hates this Johnny for what he did to her pet. Now she thinks he’s the source of every bad thing that’s happened to her.”
“Maybe you’re right. But she said something even stranger. When I asked if Corinne would be bringing a date, she said her sister hasn’t dated anyone since her last boyfriend, who happens to be this Johnny.”
“Hmmm,” Joy mused. “She’s obsessed with this Johnny.”
“He’s someone from their past.”
“But not Len Lyons’ past,” Joy pointed out.
“Too bad we don’t know his last name. Then maybe you could track him down.”
Joy grinned. “Right. Life should be that simple.”
I meandered back into the kitchen and handed Ron, the Red Devil, my wine glass for a refill. Tim and Evan, his wolf head tucked under one arm, stood in the small alcove beyond the kitchen. I considered joining them until I realized that despite their low voices, they were arguing. I thanked Ron for my drink and moved closer to the men, ostensibly to allow the couple behind me reach Ron.
“We paid good money, to you and to him,” Evan said. He caught sight of me and turned his back.
Tim glanced at me, then answered Evan in a tone too low for me to make out his words. But I’d heard enough to know it was Tim and not Len Lyons who had introduced the Billingses to the man they hoped would bring them their granddaughter.
I wandered back into the living room, and made my way to Marge and the Roberts sisters sitting in the far corner of the room. We exchanged greetings and compliments about one another’s costumes.
Felicity beamed at me. “Lexie helped me with mine,” she told Marge.
“And don’t you look beautiful?” Marge commented. “Maybe you’ll win best costume.”
Felicity blushed. “I-I don’t know.”
Corinne leered at us, showing off her blackened teeth.
I burst out laughing. “You look beautiful, too, Corinne.”
The four of us chatted about innocuous topics. I sent Felicity meaningful glances, but she didn’t notice. Clearly, she was enjoying herself too much to remember our conversation about her checking out the guests in hopes of learning something about her dead fiancé’s murder. I couldn’t blame her. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed to be enjoying herself. I was about to leave the women and move on, when we heard the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth.
“That’s me,” Corinne apologized. She reached inside her copious black robe and pulled out her cell phone. She turned away, covering her other ear to block out the party noise.
“What?” she exclaimed. She listened, then asked, “How did they get in?”
“Oh, no! How much did they take?”
She covered her face with her hand. “You called Mr. Grissom? And the police? Call our insurance company, too.” She rattled off a name and phone number.
After another pause she said, “Yes, I’m leaving now,” and clicked off her phone.
Corinne turned around to find her sister, Marge, and me staring at her. “The bank’s been robbed. I have to go.” She glanced down at her black costume. “I’ll stop by the house first and change. Felicity, ready to leave?”
Without waiting for Felicity to answer, I said, “I’ll take Felicity home. Brian and I will,” I amended.
Corinne cocked her eye at me. “Brian?”
“My date,” I said.
That satisfied Corinne. She made a beeline for the front door, her black robes flapping in her wake.
“Where’s the witch rushing off to?” Tim asked.
“Corinne’s bank was robbed,” Felicity told him. “Isn’t that awful?”
“On Halloween night?” Tim asked. “Were the thieves dressed in costume?”
Marge, Evan, and I glared at him.
“Please forgive my flippancy,” Tim said. “It’s the gin talking. But I must say, I’m glad I don’t keep my safety deposit box in that branch.”
“It’s not Corinne’s fault!” Felicity insisted.
“Of course not,” I said, patting her arm.
“She’s going to be so upset.” Felicity’s lips quivered. I prayed she wasn’t about to start bawling.
I stared meaningfully at Tim. He quickly shifted gears.
“We’re about to vote for best costumes. Gather around me, children, while we make our choices for prettiest, funniest, and most ghoulish.” He winked. “A bottle of wine for the winners!”
Sadie handed out pencils and slips of papers marked with the three categories. I wrote in Felicity for the prettiest, Joy and Mike for the funniest, and Glenn Harris, a teacher in Sadie’s school in a hideous green costume, for the most ghoulish.
To my astonishment, I’d picked three winners.
Felicity was the first to receive her prize. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” she gushed, holding the bottle of cabernet to her chest. “This is the first prize I’ve ever won in my life!”
I squeezed Brian’s hand. “I’m so happy for her,” I whispered.
“Is she for real?” he whispered back.
“Cynic!” I hissed.
After that we played silly kids’ games, most of which involved apples, pie, or water, and had us all giggling. Sadie asked Joy, Marge and me to help set up the desserts in the dining room for coffee and cake.
“This is fun,” Joy said as we sliced cakes on the dining room table. “I almost forgot what it’s like to mingle with adults.”
I laughed. “You come to our book club meetings.”
Joy wrinkled up her face. “True. But you never serve wine.”
“My bad,” I admitted.
She edged closer to me. “Brian seems to be having a good time chatting with the various suspects.”
“Our fellow guests, you mean. Most of the people here work with Sadie or are Tim’s friends. I’m willing to bet they have nothing to do with Len Lyons’ murder.”
“Whatever,” Joy conceded. “Brian and Mike get along great.” She scanned the room. “Speaking of which, where is my two-timing husband?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“There he is—in the hall, laughing and whooping it up on his cell phone. Wanna bet he’s talking to his bimbo?”
I’d had enough of this nonsense! If Mike didn’t have the brains to reassure Joy that he wasn’t having an affair, I’d do it for him!
But I wasn’t fast enough! I stared in horror as Joy lifted the pitcher of cider from the table and made a beeline for her husband. She knocked off his hat and spilled the contents on his head.
Mike let out a shriek. Brian, who’d been talking to Tim on the other side of the living room, dashed over to see what had happened. Was that his gun he’d drawn and was quickly putting out of sight?
I ran over to Mike, now slumped in a chair, his hair slicked down in such a way, I hardly recognized him. Joy stood over him berating the poor guy for chasing after his slut of a girlfriend when he had her and their three children to think about.
Sadie brought Mike a large towel. The rest of us stood and watched. Mike rubbed his head vigorously. He patted down his shirt, then grabbed both of Joy’s han
ds to stop her from beating furiously on his chest.
“Listen, you idiot, I’m not having an affair.”
Joy reared back. I thought she was going to punch him in the face.
“Be a man! Tell the truth! I’m throwing you out of the house, whatever you say.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mike stuck his face into hers. “I was talking to your sister.”
Joy’s expressions changed from outrage to puzzlement and back to fury. “Oh, sure! You’re talking to my sister right now! At eleven at night.”
Mike shrugged. “That’s when she called me. Want to say hello? That is, if she didn’t hang up when you went crazy.”
Joy looked at his cell phone, now on the floor, as if it were a tarantula. Slowly, she picked it up. “Hello?” She listened to the person on the other end.
“Hi, Heather. No, nothing’s wrong. But tell me, why did you call Mike?”
After a minute, she nodded, “All right, I’ll ask him. Good-bye.”
Joy disconnected the call and stared at her husband. “Want to tell me what this is all about?”
We stood in silence, watching and waiting. There was no way Mike could squirm out of this without ruining his surprise.
A broad grin broke out on his face as he reached for Joy and settled her on his lap. “It’s a surprise for you, and I don’t want to spoil it. But I’ll have to if you insist.”
She suddenly understood. Joy turned to me, and I gave her the okay signal.
“Oh, Mike,” she sighed. “I’m such an idiot. You are the best husband in the world.”
They locked lips and kissed the way movie stars used to at the end of romantic movies. The rest of us applauded what had to be the best show in town.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The bank robbery made Newsday’s front page the following morning, along with a photo of the thieves taken by the surveillance camera. Not that it revealed their identities. As it turned out, they had worn Halloween masks. Page three showed a photograph of Corinne and the branch president, along with his quote: “We trust the police will find the thieves and our money.”
“He’s very trusting for a bank president,” Joy commented, pointing to the newspaper article. She reached into her daughter’s stash of Halloween candy lying open on my living room coffee table and popped her fifth Reese’s Pieces into her mouth. “And how did a robbery that occurred after ten p.m. make today’s headline?” I shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”
“It’s practically publicity.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You can’t possibly think the bank president had anything to do with the robbery.”
“Who knows?” she said, reaching for another candy in the huge plastic bag.
I slapped her hand away. “You’ve eaten enough of Ruthie’s Halloween candy. And you shouldn’t have brought it to my house.”
Joy grinned. “I told you—Ruthie said to share her loot with Aunt Lexie.”
“Why?” I demanded. “Do I look undernourished?”
“My kids feel sorry for you because you have no little ones at home.”
“Sweet,” I said, reaching for a Mars bar. “Your children are very thoughtful.”
“Not Zack. He won’t part with one piece of candy, not even for his dad. Poor Mike! The kid almost bit off his head when he asked for a Milky Way.”
“I’m glad to see you’re supporting your spouse once again.”
Joy grinned the grin of a well-satisfied woman. “Of course, now that I know he deserves my love and support.”
“He’s an idiot,” I mumbled.
“What did you say?” Joy asked sharply.
“Nothing.”
She nudged me. “Care to share what he has planned?”
“I do not. Don’t ask me again.”
She nudged me again. “Will you be bringing Brian to whatever it is?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Joy grabbed my arm. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, but I had no idea there was trouble in paradise. I got the impression you were crazy about Brian.”
“Oh, I am, but I’ve been thinking that being crazy about Brian Donovan isn’t a very good idea.”
“Why not?”
“The usual—with homicide cops, the job comes first. They keep irregular hours. None of which is very helpful to a budding relationship.”
Joy eyed me keenly. “I wouldn’t think you’d mind since you keep odd hours. And you’re not especially traditional. You wouldn’t care much if your Saturday night plans were canceled because Brian had to go to the scene of a murder.”
“True.”
“Then what is it? Al?”
“For one thing. I hate talking to him across the Atlantic Ocean, letting him believe I’m considering moving in with him.” I grimaced. “Oh, I’ll be moving, all right. When he comes home and I tell him I’m involved with Brian, he’ll tell me to leave this house.”
Joy laughed. “I doubt it. So what’s the real reason you’re fighting your feelings for Brian?”
I sighed. “For me, romantic involvements have always been rather complicated. I go for guys who are interesting, but not especially responsible. I hope I’m not choosing someone like that again. I mean, Al is responsible!” I didn’t mean to shout the last word.
“And therefore you should fall in love with Al?”
“He’s reliable, dependable, and wants a long-term relationship.”
“I don’t claim to know Brian well, but I consider him reliable and responsible. So does Mike.”
I grimaced. “Maybe I’m just nervous.”
“Deal with it, and don’t screw things up,” Joy said, getting to her feet. “Time to head home. The school bus will be dropping the kids off soon. Then I have to pick up Brandon at his play group.” She giggled. “I lied and said I had a doctor’s appointment so I could come here instead of coffee-klatching with the young mothers. They bore me.”
“Bad mommy,” I said, hugging her. I handed over Ruthie’s depleted stash of candy. “Don’t forget this. And thank Ruthie for me.”
Joy left me mulling over what she’d said about Brian. I knew he was good guy, but it was nice hearing it confirmed by Mike, who had been in the police department. Not that Brian’s character had me worried. It was my caring for him that set me on edge. I’d made so many mistakes in the past, I no longer trusted my judgment when it came to relationships.
That settled for the moment, I thought about Joy’s comment regarding the bank robbery. Did she think the bank president was involved? Or Corinne? I chuckled. What a preposterous idea!
Puss ambled by, meowing to inform me it was feeding time. Actually, it was two hours too early for his dinner, but I put some food in his plate and left him purring as he ate.
I graded a few papers, then took out my work in progress. I felt bad that I hadn’t done any writing in weeks. I reread the last two chapters, changed a few sentences, then decided it was time to start dinner.
I made a Swiss cheese omelet, which I ate watching the news in the den. The police had no leads on the bank robbers. There was no word about Len Lyons‘ murder. I supposed this was considered old news, and wouldn’t be mentioned until new information leading to his murderer was uncovered.
Brian called. We chatted about our day, and he invited me out for dinner Thursday night. “I’ve lots of paper work to catch up. My desk should be cleared by then.” He hung up shortly after, leaving me with a smile on my face.
I stretched out on the couch and watched a few mindless shows on TV. When Puss jumped onto my chest and began kneading me like dough, I glanced at the clock. It was close to eleven. Bedtime.
Three staccato sounds rang out. Gunshots? I ran to the window, but saw nothing but the lights of the house across the street. A car zoomed away. A minute later, someone was pounding on the front door.
“Who is it?” I asked, praying Pete Rogers hadn’t returned.
“It’s me, Lexie! Please open the door!”
Felicity stumbled into the hall, her face white with terror.
“What happened?”
“Johnny Scarvino drove by and shot up the house! One of the bullets went through Corinne’s bedroom window!”
“Oh, no! Did he hurt her? Is she all right?”
Felicity began to hyperventilate, drawing deep, rasping breaths that shook her body. I sat her down on the living room couch and raced into the kitchen for brandy.
All the while my brain was spinning.
Should I call 911 or go next door to see if Corinne was hurt? For all I knew, she could be lying in a pool of blood as her life faded away.
I wanted to do both, but dared not leave Felicity, who was close to hysterical.
She pushed the brandy aside, almost spilling it over herself, then gulped it down and set off a coughing fit.
Finally, she was calm enough to speak. “Corinne’s not home.”
I wanted to shake her for frightening me so. Instead, I said, “That’s a relief! Where is she?”
“She had a dinner meeting with some bank bigwigs in Manhattan. She called around nine-thirty to say she’d be taking the next train home, and not to wait up for her.”
“She should have been home by now.”
Felicity shrugged. “She must have stopped at the supermarket. We needed a few things.”
“So late?”
“Corinne’s a night owl. She often goes for a drive at night. She says it clears her head after being cooped up in the bank all day.”
“How do you know it was Johnny who shot at your house?” I asked.
“Who else would want to hurt Corinne?”
I was fed up with her weird sense of logic. I headed for the kitchen. “I’m calling Detective Donovan.”
Felicity yanked my arm, bringing me to an abrupt stop. Her strength surprised me. “Why call him, Lexie? This has nothing to do with Len’s murder.”
It was late. Though I knew she was upset, she was sorely trying my patience.
“I know, but Brian will make sure the police come immediately.” I glared at her. “You do want them to know what happened, don’t you? So they can protect you and Corinne from Johnny or whoever it was that shot at you.”
I hadn’t meant to come across as a bully, and was appalled at how my sharp tone deflated her. She gripped my arm, her eyes wide with terror.
Murder the Tey Way: A Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mystery (The Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mysteries 2) Page 10
