10 Never Mess with Mistletoe

by Edie Claire

Virginia shook her head. “Sue was laid up all weekend. Her stomach may be strong, but her bowels have got a virus something terrible. I went over this morning to see if she could come and help out, and as soon as I stepped through the door I could smell—”

  “Virginia, dear,” Frances interrupted. “We do not need the details of Sue’s illness. She clearly had nothing to do with this.”

  “I was surprised Lucille even asked her,” Anna Marie mused. “Sue never could stand Bobby. She was always telling Lucille she should cut him out of her will altogether and leave everything to the American Legion.”

  “Ladies, please,” Frances interrupted. “I don’t believe we should be discussing anything amongst ourselves that we do not also wish to share with the police.”

  “Wish to share?” Anna Marie repeated. “Don’t talk nonsense, Frances. Why would we want to help the police? It’s nothing to do with me.”

  Virginia also looked at Frances with alarm. “Of course not! If the police knew what Lucille was planning, they’d tell the insurance company. And then Bobby would get no money at all!”

  Leigh’s pulse rate picked up. Her mother was in a bind. If Frances admitted to having spilled the beans already, she’d be pilloried. But if she didn’t admit it, someone might be motivated to prevent its happening in the future.

  “Oh, I’m certain that none of us would say anything,” Delores announced. “Certainly we wouldn’t want to risk keeping our dear friend’s dying wish from coming to fruition, would we? That would be so horribly self-serving! And none of us are in the slightest bit selfish, I’m sure.”

  Anna Marie scoffed. “Speak for yourself. You won’t see me running to the police, but I’m not sticking my neck out just so somebody else can get a windfall, either. Particularly not some idiot like Bobby. Has anyone thought that maybe Lucille did just die of a heart attack or something?”

  “Oh, dear, no!” Virginia cried, sounding scandalized. “That would be terrible! She would be devastated.”

  Delores shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no, her funeral plans are far too costly for that.”

  Leigh did a double take. “Funeral plans?”

  Delores’s pale eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Such an event it will be! And so Lucille. Her casket will be carried to the cemetery by a horse and carriage.”

  “Black horses!” Jennie Ruth insisted.

  “Black horses,” Delores repeated happily. “Bagpipes will be played by men in black-watch tartan kilts. And the burying is to be done by hand, with shovels. Preferably in the rain.”

  Leigh would wish she hadn’t asked, but the change in subject did seem to have gotten her mother out of the hot seat.

  “That’s never going to happen,” Anna Marie said sourly. “How’s Bobby going to pay for all that when there’s no guarantee he’ll get the insurance money right away, if at all? I kept asking Lucille, what’s he supposed to do, keep her on ice?”

  Virginia frowned. “Don’t be such a party-pooper, Anna Marie. I’m sure Lucille made some sort of arrangement. She knew how much we were looking forward to her funeral.”

  Leigh felt a sudden, intense need to go outside and stand in the sunshine.

  “Well, likely nobody’s going to get any money if goody-goody Frances here decides to flap her lips to the fuzz,” Anna Marie pointed out.

  Whoops.

  All eyes had turned back to Frances, and Leigh could tell from the russet tone rising in her mother’s cheeks that righteousness was about to triumph over self-preservation.

  “My mother didn’t have to say a word,” Leigh lied, thinking quickly. “I hate to burst your bubbles, but the police and the insurance company both are already onto Lucille.”

  Five sets of eyes moved instantly to Leigh.

  “There’s a thing in the industry called flagging,” she rattled on, pulling words out of wherever in her anatomy she could reach them. “Lucille already collected once on an accidental death policy, and that puts her in a whole different category of suspicion when it comes to being involved in another one. They’ve been watching Lucille from the get-go, and working with the police to look for evidence of fraud. It’s a good thing none of you are involved, because if Bobby tries to collect, he is going to get caught. The best thing for him to do would be to just let it drop.”

  None of the women moved. The room went completely silent. Leigh wished she could look at their faces, but she was too afraid to let them read hers. She had always been a lousy liar. She hoped that none of the Floribundas had ever been in the insurance business.

  “How do you know all this?” Anna Marie asked suspiciously.

  Leigh shrugged. “I know a lot of police stuff. But the insurance thing is common knowledge, really.” Oh, she was so going to burn!

  “Your family does seem terribly cozy with the police force around here,” Virginia noted, her voice assuming a snide tone. “Your daughter seems interested in police work, as well. Such a curious little dear, she is!”

  Stay cool.

  “Allison?” Leigh said offhandedly, putting every ounce of willpower into her acting skills. “She did get a little overexcited on Saturday, asking all those silly questions. But you know how girls are at that age. One day it’s one thing, the next day it’s something else. I was afraid that Lucille’s death had really upset her, but yesterday she didn’t even mention it. All she cared about was her birthday party! And this morning she went off to school all obsessed over some fundraiser things the student council is putting on.” She forced out a chuckle. “Can’t keep that girl focused on anything more than five minutes these days.”

  Leigh avoided looking directly at her mother. She wasn’t worried about Frances giving her away, even if every word she’d just spoken was a lie. Whether Frances approved or not, she was sharp enough to understand what Leigh was doing. But if Leigh were forced to face her mother’s three-alarm scowl, her own involuntary cringe would give them both away.

  “It could be anemia,” Virginia diagnosed. “Particularly if the poor girl’s monthlies are heavy. You should make her eat more red meat. She’s not one of those vegetarians, is she?”

  Leigh had no idea how the conversation had moved from insurance fraud to vegetarianism, but she was all for it. “Actually, she’s been making noise lately about wanting to ‘go veg.’ But I’m not sure it’s a good idea. What do you think?”

  Virginia obliged by rattling off various organs that could suffer permanent damage from lack of protein, and Leigh’s mind checked out. The other Floribundas, who showed an equal lack of interest in the topic, began busying themselves with the packing again. All except Anna Marie, who analyzed lint on her clothing and studied the weather through the side window.

  “And what about you?”

  Leigh realized after a few seconds of silence that Virginia was asking her a question.

  “Do you find that eating yogurt stabilizes the pH in your lady parts?”

  Mercifully, the doorbell rang. Leigh jumped to answer it, but before she could turn the knob Olympia was already entering.

  “Hello, there!” the tall woman said merrily, peeking around the door. “Sorry I’m late. But I brought muffins!”

  Leigh glanced back at the other Floribundas. Although they were smiling in greeting, their spines had stiffened. Leigh supposed it made sense that they wouldn’t completely trust Olympia, since they had all known each other for decades while their newest president had only been around a few months.

  Olympia stepped into the dining room and placed her tote bag on the table. Leigh watched as, ever so briefly, Olympia’s gaze rested on Lucille’s empty chair. A dark look — sadness? irritation? annoyance? grief? — flashed across her features before she forcibly averted her eyes. When she turned back to the Floribundas, she made an attempt at a warm smile.

  “I know this has been difficult for everyone,” she said as if making a rehearsed speech. “Clearly you were all very close to Lucille, and I’m sure her passing came as a shock. Not knowing her as well as
all of you did, I haven’t been affected quite as deeply, so I’ve taken it on myself to smooth over the situation.”

  The other Floribundas exchanged suspicious glances. “Smooth over?” Anna Marie asked. “Smooth over what, exactly?”

  Olympia blinked at her. “Why, the PR debacle, of course!” she replied with surprise. “Lucille’s death during the event has been an absolute nightmare of negative publicity for the Holiday House Tour. Or at least it could have been, if not handled properly!”

  “Oh, right,” Virginia said with disinterest. “I guess we didn’t really think about that.”

  Olympia stared at them all blankly for another second. “Of course not. You’re still grieving. That’s why I handled it. I was on the phone with the Regional Coordinator and the committee chair all day yesterday, I’ve smoothed things over with both of the women who were punching tickets on the porch, and I’ve personally reached out to all the guests we had to excuse from the house early — at least all the ones I could locate. And I’ve deflected several potential issues with reporters.”

  She leaned onto the arm of the couch and smiled broadly, exposing her prominent front teeth. “So… you’re welcome!” She threw her palms up at her sides and cocked her head endearingly.

  The Floribundas did not seem endeared. Leigh found their reaction odd, until she realized that Olympia lied so often none of them had any way of knowing whether she’d actually done those things.

  “That’s wonderful, Olympia, thank you,” Frances said, in the same voice she might use to praise a young grandchild for a stick-figure drawing. “You’re right, of course. We’ve not been thinking of that sort of thing. But it is very important for the reputation of the chapter.”

  “Hear, hear!” Virginia agreed. “Were the ticket sales good?”

  “Oh, they were marvelous!” Olympia crowed. “The best in the whole history of the tour!”

  The women clearly wanted to believe that.

  “Don’t you all worry about a thing,” Olympia continued. “I can continue to handle the regionals and the media. You take as much time as you need to recover. I’m an emotional rock. Always have been, you know. Things like this can cripple some people, but not me! Just rolls right off my back.”

  Jennie Ruth harrumphed.

  “Seems to me you were flat on your back for a while there,” Anna Marie said with a smirk.

  Olympia’s smile faded. “If you are referring to my… episode, I assure you that was a medical issue. I heard Leigh calling for me and I tried to move too quickly. It had nothing to do with emotions.”

  “Why, of course not, dear,” Delores agreed. “I’m sure you didn’t even catch a glimpse of Lucille’s lifeless corpse before going down.”

  “I’ve seen lots of dead bodies,” Virginia commented. “When I was in high school, I used to do housecleaning up at the old funeral home by the chocolate factory. But Harry, now, he’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing. Talk about passing out at the sight of blood — that man can’t stand a paper cut. He was all out of joint about Lucille dying, wringing his hands over whether that booze he put in the punch could have pushed her over the edge. I told him that was hogswazzle. We all know Lucille drank gin like a fish!”

  “Lucille always did enjoy a little nip before bed,” Delores said fondly. “But how good of Harry to be concerned! After all, I do believe she’d cut back lately. And the sicker one gets, you know, the more harmful even small amounts of alcohol can be.”

  Virginia threw Delores a glare.

  “My Melvin has nerves of steel, but then that’s to be expected in a doctor,” Olympia said proudly. “Nothing gets to him. He deals with life and death on a daily basis, you know.”

  “Oh, how exciting!” Delores cooed. “I wasn’t aware that one could die of hemorrhoids.”

  “My husband is a colorectal surgeon,” Olympia clarified icily. “He saves lives on an hourly basis. He has been awarded special honors by the Mayo Clinic and he personally pulled the bullet out of President Reagan after the assassination attempt!”

  Leigh had been having enough trouble trying to read all the women’s faces before; adding Olympia to the mix was giving her whiplash. The Floribunda president was hopelessly confounding. She had made little effort to conceal her irritation with her husband at the house tour, yet now she spoke of him as if he were a saint. And why was she praising his stoicism, of all things, when Melvin was one of the few people present who seemed genuinely saddened by Lucille’s passing? Surely Olympia could think of something nice to say about the man that wasn’t total hogwash!

  “Well, I daresay my Harry hasn’t lost any sleep over Lucille’s going to a better place,” Virginia said loudly, ignoring Olympia’s outburst and steering the conversation back to her own husband. “He knew she was ready to go. But he is worried that he’ll get in trouble, if not for the booze, then for the mistletoe.” Virginia’s voice lowered. “And I’m a little worried about that too, to tell the truth. He admitted to the police about hanging a sprig of the stuff up over the punch bowl. He didn’t think a thing about it at the time, but Lord, it looks bad. What if some of it did drop off in Lucille’s punch?”

  Leigh shot a glance at her mother. Frances’s complexion was ashen again.

  Dammit!

  “There’s no way,” Leigh said quickly. “Like Lydie said, only one berry fell, and we saw it immediately. You all drank the punch. It wasn’t crystal clear because of the cider, but it wasn’t so murky you couldn’t see through it.”

  Delores spoke in her most comforting tone. “Of course! And how fortunate for all of us, since hundreds of people could have been poisoned to death otherwise. But truly, no one could blame that little girl if she accidentally ladled out one leaf or a twig, could they? My, no. And one could only expect that afterwards, the sweet child might be too frightened for herself to admit such a thing.” The diabolically evil angel face smiled smugly.

  “Excuse me,” Frances blurted, putting aside whatever she was wrapping and hastening to her feet. She turned her back on the women, hid her face with her hands, and escaped up the stairs.

  Leigh stared daggers. “No mistletoe was served in the punch,” she said acidly. “My niece may be young, but she’s not an idiot. Nor is she a coward.” She got to her feet. Lenna did, in fact, have some issues where bravery was concerned, but the wagons had circled and Leigh’s gun was drawn. She took two steps after her mother, then turned around. “You know, some people say things that are mean and upsetting on purpose, but instead of taking responsibility for the hurt they cause, they pretend they meant to say nice things.” She glared straight at Delores. “Now that’s being a coward.”

  She turned again and started up the stairs. No sounds followed her from the living room as she made her way to the master bedroom and shut the door behind her. Frances was sitting on her bed, staring forlornly at the wall. Leigh sat down next to her. “I punched Delores in the face,” she reported. “You want me to beat up the rest of them?”

  To her delight, Frances actually smiled. “No, dear,” she replied. “That won’t be necessary. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” Leigh said with a sigh. “Having Lucille pass away so unexpectedly, here in your house, was terrible for everyone. But there’s obviously something else going on with you. You want to tell me about it?”

  “Heavens, no,” Frances said.

  Leigh wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Okay,” she said finally. “But you should get it off your chest somehow.”

  Frances shook her head. “I appreciate your concern. But talking won’t help anything. It’s… in the past. I just want this investigation to be over with.” She stood up. “I don’t know what came over me, really. I should go back downstairs.”

  Leigh felt the sting of failure as her mother stepped away.

  “By the way, what was all that nonsense about Allison?” Frances asked, turning around.

  Leigh decided to explain as little as she could. No way was she going to distress h
er mother further over the charred notebook. “Maura said that the less interested Allison seems to be in this whole thing, the less worried anyone scheming in insurance fraud might be about her note-taking.”

  Frances drew in a sharp breath. “None of the Floribundas would hurt a child!” she said adamantly.

  Leigh would love to share her mother’s confidence. “Virginia said something about our family being cozy with the police. How much do the Floribundas know about my relationship with Maura?”

  Frances looked troubled again. “I mentioned to Virginia yesterday that the case had been handed over to the county detectives. I also mentioned that the detective we spoke with was your friend. I… I thought everyone would consider that comforting. Why? Does it matter?”

  Leigh blew out a breath. “I suppose they would have found out anyway.”

  So, given Virginia’s mouth, any or all of the Floribundas could have known by last night that Allison had a direct connection with the detective investigating the case. The question was, would knowing that fact make a guilty party more likely to threaten Allison… or less? Leigh’s brain began to hurt.

  “You needn’t worry about the Floribundas,” Frances insisted. “As I’ve said before, I’ve known these women for decades, and I can assure you that none of them is completely morally bankrupt. I know they’ve become a bit… rough around the edges over the years, but they do all still care deeply about the beautification of the community. And that is becoming an increasingly rare trait in younger women today.”

  Leigh prepared herself for another “no one under sixty considers it their civic duty to weed and seed the medians” lecture, but to her surprise, none came. Instead, Frances stepped over to the vanity and looked in the mirror. She picked up a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

  “I mean it when I say that I appreciate your concern,” she said in a milder voice. “It’s nice to know you care about your dear old mother. But you really shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  Leigh watched as Frances reapplied her favorite orange lipstick. A mother’s protectiveness for her children never stopped, did it? Reversing the flow must seem unnatural. Leigh felt a wave of sympathy. She also felt a long-standing twinge of guilt. “Listen, Mom. Now that Lucille is gone, there’s something I need to apologize for. I lied to you.”