SHORT STORY:
The Tomato Paste Murder:
A Story in Soupçons
By Jessie Bishop Powell
Le Premier Soupçon
“Only Kevin could get killed with a can of tomato paste without being poisoned.” The victim’s Aunt Demelda honked into a handkerchief and tucked an escaping bra strap under her sleeve. Though her dress looked sedate enough from the back, her silver skirt stood at angles to her body in front, its pleats flaring away from her knees like the tines of an enormous fork. “I heard they couldn’t get his cheeks to look human again,” she added in a stage whisper.
“Mother, let’s sit down.” Demelda’s daughter Virginia steered her aging parent away from an aghast stranger, some friend of Kevin’s.
“Nonsense. I should be with Cressida.” Demelda planted herself in the middle of the receiving line, completely halting its progress.
“She and Uncle Derek have this handled. Kevin is their son, you know.”
“Was, dear.”
“Is and always will be.”
“Is that Robert Redford?” Demelda squinted across the room. “I think that’s…”
“Kevin didn’t know Robert Redford. I see Manny and Leigh, though. Let’s say ‘Hi’ to them.”
“Manny and Leigh don’t know a thing.”
Nonetheless, with a final yank, Virginia maneuvered her mother in the right direction. She tried to catch Manny’s attention, but he and Leigh were trapped behind a man in Stetson hat.
As they crossed the room, Demelda identified four more celebrities, two of them accurately. Then a tall woman embraced Virginia from behind. “Augusta Flavius!” Demelda gushed. “I simply loved you in From Tearoom to Trattoria. You should have gotten an Oscar.”
“You mean a Tony,” Virginia squeaked. She squirmed around, bringing her eyes level with a row of gold busts of Caesar embroidered atop Augusta’s red dress. “You played the role on Broadway, didn’t you?”
“I’d forgotten all about From Tearoom to Trattoria,” Augusta said, finally letting go. “You never told me you were Kevin’s cousin, Virginia.”
“When would I have had the opportunity to …”
“His favorite cousin, Ms. Flavius,” Demelda broke in. “No one on his father’s side holds a candle.”
“His favorite cousin,” Augusta agreed. She cleared her throat. “I wonder,” she said. She shifted from side to side, and all the Caesars undulated above her breasts.
When she didn’t finish the sentence, Virginia broke the silence. “We don’t have any control over the guest list for the family dinner.” She put heavy emphasis on the word family, even though there were as many friends as relations coming to her aunt and uncle’s house that evening.
“I’m invited,” the woman said. “But will there be … alcohol … served with the meal?”
“Probably,” said Virginia.
“Of course there will,” said Demelda. “Cressida is bound to have those awful sweet wines. Riesling, Chenin Blanc, Malvasia—”
“You aren’t the hostess, and you shouldn’t be drinking on your medications, Mother.”
Demelda ignored Virginia and continued to list sweet wines, shuddering each time, as if merely speaking the names turned her stomach sour. “Nothing dry to drink in my sister’s house,” she finally finished.
“I’d best send my apologies,” Augusta said quickly, before Demelda could add more. “I’m a social drinker, you know, and events like this make it so hard to cut back.”
“I’ll let Aunt Cress and Uncle Derek know,” said Virginia. She took her mother’s arm once more, but the actress didn’t leave, meaning Virginia couldn’t make Demelda go either. “Was there something else?” she finally asked.
“No. Well, yes,” said Augusta. “Is it true that you’ll be replacing…”
“No,” Virginia snapped before the question was finished. “I won’t. Sorry to dash, but I see a couple I know.” She pulled Demelda hard, but her efforts had no effect.
“You can’t dash away from Augusta Flavius,” Demelda chided her.
Virginia gritted her teeth and glared until Augusta ducked back into line. “Mother,” she said, “I haven’t exchanged more than five words with Manny and Leigh since this all started.” She took a step back and landed on someone’s toe. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
It was the man in the Stetson. “No problem at all,” he assured her. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
“You did?”
Unlike Augusta Flavius, he wasn’t slow in getting to the point. “That’s a pretty sweet deal, taking over the KM Hour.”
“But I’m not,” said Virginia.
“Here’s the thing. I’ve got a new album coming out. I know it’s an awkward time to ask, but a slot on the Kevin McArthur …”
“Mister … Arizona Angus, right? It’s … nice to meet you. But I’m not taking over my cousin’s show, no matter who told you otherwise.” Virginia pursed her lips and looked at Demelda, who discovered some dust that needed to be brushed from her shoulder.
“Ah. Well.” The man finally seemed to hear her. “If you find out who is…”
“I’ll put in a good word, fine. L.E. Carmody is here somewhere. Maybe he’d hire you to do the job yourself. Mother, come on. I want to catch up with Manny and Leigh.” Demelda didn’t move, but Virginia’s friends finally noticed her and eased into the space Arizona Angus vacated.
“You must learn to treat your stars with more respect if you’re going—” began Demelda.
Virginia cut her off. “No. We are not discussing that.”
“Has it been this way all afternoon?” asked Leigh.
“Almost,” said Virginia.
“You have no idea what a toll Kevin’s death is taking on us,” Demelda announced.
“I can’t even imagine!” Manny said.
“Poor thing,” said Leigh. She patted Demelda’s back but looked at Virginia. “Who could have been so angry? Kevin was the nicest person.”
“He had his moments,” said Demelda.
“Only with you, Mother,” said Virginia.
“But bludgeoned to death by a can of soup!” Manny shuddered. “I never even knew him to own soup in cans. He and Carolyn cooked from scratch at our Saturday dinners, didn’t they?”
“Yes, they were always in the kitchen when we were all there.” Virginia agreed. “Since Kevin died, I’ve haven’t eaten a meal without thinking about those dinners.”
“We’ll carry on in his name,” said Leigh.
“But no soup. I couldn’t stand to serve soup after this,” added Manny.
“It wasn’t soup that got him,” said Demelda. “It was tomato paste.”
“That makes more sense,” said Manny. Leigh shot him a glare. “You know what I mean. He and Carolyn were so organic.”
“Carolyn Routledge is a suspicious sort, if you ask me,” said Demelda with a sniff.
“What? They’re not accusing Carolyn, are they?” asked Leigh. “Last time I saw her, the wedding was all she could talk about!”
“Maybe he broke it off, ” said Demelda. “If she’s so innocent, why doesn’t she step forward and clear her name?”
“Mother, lower your voice,” Virginia pleaded, glancing over her shoulder to see if her Aunt Cressida and Uncle Derek had overheard the latest outburst. “As far as I know, they’re still treating Carolyn’s disappearance like a missing persons case,” she told Leigh. To her mother, she scolded, “She vanished on the way home, you know. After she’d been notified.”
“Surely she didn’t drive herself did she?” asked Leigh. “All that way? Someone must have taken the keys away after news like that.”
“Aunt Cress is the one who called her,” Virginia explained. “Cress thinks Carolyn ran to the car in the middle of the conversation without telling a soul where she was going.”
Demelda pounced. “That goes to prove my point. A grieving fiancée wouldn’t …”
“Mother, grief takes so many f
orms. You know that. Before then, people saw Carolyn all day at her reunion. She was three hours away when Kevin was …” For a moment, Virginia’s calm façade collapsed. Her face crumpled, and she muffled a sob in her palm.
“Here, here! I came prepared.” Manny produced a tissue.
Virginia dabbed her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m afraid something awful’s happened to her as well. Some crazed fan who couldn’t respect their privacy…”
Demelda grunted and blew her nose into her own already damp handkerchief. Her eyeliner was runny, testament to the weeping she’d done before they left the house, when Virginia had been the stoic one. “After everything that … hussy has done to our family, I don’t see how you can stand up for her. At least you can admit it’s her fault the security system was switched off.”
“No, I can’t. She’s completely right. They shouldn’t have to live under scrutiny in their own home because Kevin hosted a talk show. And she hasn’t done a thing to us!” Virginia briefly forgot her own injunction about lowered voices, and her words carried above the room’s murmur. She cast a look of apology towards her aunt and uncle, but Cressida and Derek were engaged with a distant relation. They either ignored Virginia or genuinely didn’t hear her.
“Clearly, they should have, or Kevin would still be alive,” Demelda hissed before stalking away. With a helpless glance to her friends, Virginia followed.
La Deuxième Soupçon
Even the “limited” guest list for Derek and Cressida’s catered buffet appeared to be too large. The tables in the backyard were overcrowded, and clumps of people milled around inside the McArthurs’ house.
Leigh and Manny shuffled through the foyer, waiting for a seat. “Of all the things available in the kitchen, why choose a can of soup?” asked Manny. Leigh elbowed him and pointed to Virginia, who was leaning against a nearby wall. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you.”
“It’s fine,” said Virginia. “I’ve been asking myself the same question.”
“What have you done with Demelda?” he asked.
“She’s fixing her mascara in the bathroom. I’m on guard to make sure she doesn’t get loose when she comes out.”
“Have you slept at all?” asked Leigh. “I wondered earlier, but you had to run off.”
“Some,” said Virginia. “But Mother’s so paranoid. She had me up three times in the wee hours with her nightmares.”
“Dreadful,” said Manny. “Are there any real leads?”
“None that I’ve heard, but I’ve barely talked to Aunt Cress and Uncle Derek. I’m too busy shielding them from Mother and her wild theories. They may know more.”
“What’s this about Mother?” Demelda emerged but then looked at her hands. “Oh botheration,” she said. “It’s still on my fingers. You’ll have to excuse me.” She ducked back into the restroom.
“Mother…” Virginia began. “Never mind. It’s pointless. Her hand washing is getting worse again, too.”
“Did you hear they found Carolyn’s car?” Leigh asked.
“The news was on every station I tried between the funeral home and here,” said Virginia. “Last rest stop before town, right?”
“You’d think with all the people looking for her, someone would have noticed sooner,” Manny said.
“One report said it didn’t show up until day before yesterday,” said Virginia. “And it wasn’t identified until state troopers noticed it had violated the one-overnight-stay policy.”
“I guarantee she’s holed up in some cellar with her lover.” Demelda had returned.
“Stop it, Mother.”
“What can we do to help you?” Leigh asked Virginia. “You’re carrying a lot of this load.” She glanced ever so slightly towards Demelda.
A giant of a man in a lime-green paisley-patterned suit approached them. “So sorry for your loss,” he said. He delivered a series of thumping pats to Manny’s back. “Kev was the foundation of my network. I didn’t realize how large his family was. No idea how we’ll go on without him.”
“Actually, we’re his neighbors,” said Manny.
“A lucky man to have that kind of relatives.” Now the man pumped Leigh’s hand.
Virginia saved her friends from another awkward reply. “Thank you, Mr. Carmody,” she said. He mashed her fingers in a squeeze.
“You think about what I said on the phone,” he told her.
“Please, don’t …” said Virginia. But he had walked away, already preoccupied with the next promotional opportunity.
“For the president of a television network, he’s certainly rude,” said Leigh, shaking out her arm.
“Probably thinks we should all be honored to stand in his airspace,” said Manny.
“I assume you heard he asked me to carry on Kev’s show?” said Virginia. “Of all the people. I’ve co-hosted two episodes, and he wanted me. Now someone has put it around that I’ve accepted the offer.” Virginia glowered at her mother.
“It would be quite an honor,” said Demelda.
“I turned him down. I’m a character actress.”
“I told him to call back when she’s had time to grieve. It’s not often a forty-four year old woman has the chance to make her big break.”
“The answer isn’t going to change,” said Virginia. “I have a wonderful career.” She rubbed her temples and stared at the ground. This was clearly an old argument.
“At any rate, you’ve got no business saying you’re mere neighbors,” Demelda proclaimed. “Come sit with the family,” she ordered Manny and Leigh. “We’ll make room for you.”
“We shouldn’t…” Leigh began.
“Please, do,” said Virginia. “For once, Mother and I agree about something. If Cress hadn’t been overwhelmed with cousins, I know she’d have asked you to be a pallbearer, Manny. You were far closer to Kevin than some of these people who’ve been flying in. Certainly closer than that windbag, and he’s sure to squash beside Cressida and Derek for the meal, unless he can crowd in between them.”
“In that case, we’ll be glad to,” said Leigh. She winked at Virginia so fast that she might have been squeezing dust out of her eye. Then she wrapped an arm around Demelda’s bespangled shoulder. “I know you’re overwrought. As soon as everything is over tomorrow, I want you to call your doctor,” she said, as Virginia led them to the backyard.
Le Troisième Soupçon
The crowd shrank for the funeral proper the next morning, but a throng still gathered in the graveside tent. Virginia caught Manny’s arm as he and Leigh entered. “I have to speak,” she whispered. “Can you manage Mother when I go? Poor Aunt Cress deserves peace.”
“Hell is murky!” Demelda wailed. Once more decked in full regalia, she was seated as far away from Cressida and Derek as Virginia could place her without actually moving her out of the family section. The previous day’s silver atrocity had been replaced by a dress of black sequins with a jagged slash of red satin running down the middle. She was holding forth to a small army of mesmerized relatives, none of whom took much notice when Virginia placed Manny and Leigh on either side of their temporary queen.
“How are you today, Demelda?” Leigh asked. “Virginia says you’ve been having nightmares.”
Demelda sniffled. “What’s to be done?” she asked. Then she blinked at Leigh. “Oh,” she said in a less theatrical tone. “Hello. I don’t see why they have us here at daybreak.”
“Wasn’t early morning Kevin’s favorite time?” asked Leigh.
“Yes, well,” Demelda humphed. She might have said more, but the service started, and she immediately began wiping her eyes.
After the minister had spoken the final words and the first handfuls of dirt had been cast on the coffin, another line formed before Cressida and Derek. “I need to be with my sister,” Demelda told Virginia.
“Mother, no.”
“Not until you’ve spoken with your therapist,” Leigh said. “And I mean right now. If you can’t be calm, you�
��ll make things worse.” Demelda had sobbed and shaken until Virginia all but force-fed her two anti-anxiety pills. She seemed a little fuzzy now, if quieter. She let Leigh draw her aside and even handed the younger woman her purse to look for the phone.
“You need a break,” Manny told Virginia. “And this tent is stifling.” He knifed a path through the crowd and led her towards the rising sun.
“Thank you,” Virginia said outside. She glanced at the blockade keeping the media at bay then looked deliberately at Manny instead. “What am I going to do with Mother? This morning, she had a hissy fit, an absolute temper tantrum, because I couldn’t find her port-wine blouse and she had to wear black. As if wearing black to a funeral was gauche.”
“Leigh thinks it’s her way of grieving,” said Manny. “She’s focused on the things she can blame on other people so she doesn’t have to deal with her sorrow.”
“She’s going senile on me, Manny, or else headed for a nervous breakdown. She thinks Carolyn wanted to elope, sent a doppelganger to the reunion in her place, hid in the pantry, and sprang up to surprise Kevin. Only she didn’t know the tomato … paste, I suppose … was in front of her. It flew out and crushed his skull. She finished the job to put him out of his misery, and now she’s skipped the country.”
“I don’t think a child could fit in that pantry,” said Manny. “Let alone a grown woman.” On a street of mansions, Kevin and Carolyn owned a renovated bungalow
Leigh emerged, arms in the air. “Virginia, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop her. She’s heading for Cressida.”
“You!” Demelda screamed from inside. “You’re the doppelganger.”
“Oh, no. She isn’t,” said Virginia, cutting past Manny in her haste to re-enter the tent.
Demelda had forced her way to the front of the line, and now she clutched her sister’s wig in one triumphant claw, holding it aloft like a newly discovered artifact. Cressida gaped at Demelda for a moment before burying her face in Derek’s shoulder. He enfolded her in an embrace.
“Mother, give that back.” Again, the throng gave way for Virginia.
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