An Uplifting Murder (30 page)

“Deal,” Ted said. He was interrupted by a hair-raising howl. “That’s my patient. See you soon.”

Josie clicked off her phone. “Let me guess,” Alyce said between bites. “Not only is Ted perfect—he’s giving you that so-called space this afternoon.”

“He has emergency surgery,” she said. “A dog got hit by a car. It was an accident—for the dog and me.”

Josie sipped her coffee, took another bite from her skillet, and said, “This twenty-four-hour bodyguard duty has to end. Let’s figure out how to find the woman in the black-and-white scarf. She’s the killer and the car vandal. There are three main candidates.”

“I think I know who they are,” Alyce said. “Rosa, the Desiree Lingerie sales associate whose parents may be illegal aliens. Trish, who may have drug addiction in her past. And Dr. Tino’s fiancée, Shannon.”

“Shannon is definitely out,” Josie said. “She has a rock-solid alibi for the murder. There’s also Victoria, my shoplifting neighbor. We put a stop to her income.”

“I drove you to her house,” Alyce said. “We made sure she didn’t see your car. She didn’t follow my SUV after we left her place. I checked. How would she know where you live?”

“So she’s out,” Josie said. “I had to rule out Cody, too. The police and Mrs. Mueller said the scarf stalker was a woman. I had a brainstorm that she could be Cody’s wife until I saw her photo in the newspaper. Renee doesn’t weigh much more than a hummingbird.”

“Then Rosa and Trish are our prime suspects,” Alyce said. “How are you going to prove which one is Frankie’s killer?”

“St. Philomena’s has Narcotics Anonymous meetings every Thursday at seven o’clock in the basement,” Josie said. “I called Desiree Lingerie and found out Trish gets off work on Thursday at four. I thought I’d follow her from work to the NA meeting and see where she goes.”

“I don’t like that idea, Josie,” Alyce said. “The woman deserves her privacy. What if she spots you? Trish wants to be a police officer. If she’s any good, she’ll see you tailing her.”

“You forgot my wig collection,” Josie said. “I can look like white trash in that curly blond wig.”

“Didn’t you have a rhinestone-studded T-shirt to go with that one? It will be cold in January.”

“I’ll wear my winter coat. Nobody will see anything but that fake blond hair down to my waist. I can also wear my Fashion Victim outfit. That red Escada jacket with the gold braid is scary. I look like Michael Jackson meets Joan Rivers.”

“It’s hard to chase someone in stiletto heels,” Alyce said.

“I have my short curly black wig, too. My own mother doesn’t recognize me in that.”

“Who would? You look like you have a dead poodle on your head. It’s still a dumb idea. Even if you’re disguised, the killer will see your car.”

“That gray Honda is so anonymous, even I can’t find it sometimes,” Josie said. “I have disguises for it, too. I can put a tennis ball on the antenna one day, a bunch of fake flowers the next, and a magnetic bumper sticker when I wear my white trash disguise.”

“What’s it say?”

“ ‘Kiss my grits,’ ” Josie said. “Alyce, I need your help.”

“I am not going along with your harebrained scheme to tail Trish.” Alyce’s pale skin was flushed with anger.

“I’m not asking you,” Josie said.

Alyce softened her voice. “How about if you check in with me every half hour while you tail her? You shouldn’t do that alone. Calling me will provide some backup. But that doesn’t mean I approve.”

“That would help,” Josie said. “I really need you to go with me when I see Rosa at Desiree Lingerie. She’s the temporary manager now. When I called the store, Rosa said she was working ten to six o’clock every day but Monday. Will you go with me? It’s the only way I can find out more about Rosa. You told me that Jake’s law partner blabbed about Rosa’s father being illegal. We went to lunch at her family’s restaurant and got more information to support the illegal-alien theory.”

“How did you do that?”

“Rosa’s a talker,” Josie said. “She doesn’t realize how much she tells people when she’s chattering. If she sees you with me, she may let down her guard and say something useful. I wondered if you’d like to go with me to Desiree Lingerie.”

“Today’s Tuesday,” Alyce said. “I could maybe get away tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll tail Trish on Thursday. With any luck, we’ll have Laura out of jail by the weekend.”

“Unless we wind up in jail,” Alyce said. “Good thing I’m married to a lawyer.”

Chapter 32

“Is that a man coming out of Mrs. Mueller’s house?” Ted asked as he carefully parked his nineteen sixty-eight tangerine Mustang in front of Josie’s home.

“Can’t be,” Josie said. “There are rumors of a Mr. Mueller in the distant past, but I’ve never even seen a photo of the man.”

“Maybe she buried him in the basement,” Amelia said from the backseat. She’d been snappish and sulky when Josie had insisted her daughter crawl in the cramped space. Amelia could barely hide her bad temper from Ted.

“My car’s back bumper isn’t hanging over her property line, is it?” Ted asked. “I don’t want her screaming at me again.”

“I’d better check,” Josie said. “She’ll scream at me, too. The law says we can park anywhere on this street, but Mrs. Mueller lives by her own rules.”

Josie got out of the car, which made her slightly closer to the tall, lumpy figure in the long dark coat, boots, and Soviet-style hat. Now the person was stomping across Mrs. Mueller’s snowy yard. Their difficult neighbor would have a fit over this trespasser.

Then Josie realized who it was. She knocked on Ted’s window. He rolled it down and Josie whispered, “You’re parked fine. That’s Mrs. Mueller in her Russian-winter outfit.”

“You’re kidding,” Ted said. “I could have sworn she was a man.”

Josie giggled. “Sh!” she said. “If she hears you, there will be hell to pay.”

Ted climbed out of the car, then helped Amelia out of the narrow backseat. “Can we have hot chocolate?” she asked.

“With little marshmallows?” Ted said.

“And some oatmeal-raisin cookies?” Amelia asked.

“Please,” they chorused together, howling like hungry cats.

“Okay,” Josie said, laughing. “As long as you save room for dinner. It’s beef stew, courtesy of the Jane and Amelia cooking school.”

“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Mueller said briskly as she strode past them on the sidewalk. “Lovely winter day. Perfect afternoon for exercise. I have the constitution of a horse.”

Josie thought Mrs. Mueller had other equine attributes, too. She swallowed a smart-aleck reply and said, “I’m planning a run myself.”

Well, she was about to run into her house for hot chocolate and cookies.

Inside her cozy kitchen, Ted warmed the hot chocolate, slowly stirring the milk on the stove. “I’m making it the old-fashioned way,” he said. “Hot chocolate is better heated slowly than nuked.”

Josie put out cookies and napkins. Amelia sat at the table with a pile of computer printouts, ready to discuss her cat research paper with Ted. He poured three cups and set them on the table. Josie added the miniature marshmallows.

“Guess what kind of cat Harry is?” Amelia asked.

“Alley?” Josie said.

“He’s a classic tabby,” Amelia said. She couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice.

“Of course he is,” Josie said. “Ted’s Mustang is a classic, too.”

“No, it’s a special type of tabby pattern.” Amelia brandished a printout from Wikipedia in her mother’s face. “It says here there are four patterns: mackerel, classic, spotted, and ticked. The classic tabby—that’s Harry—has ‘a whirled and swirled pattern with wider stripes that make a “butterfly” pattern on their shoulders and a bull’s-eye on the flank.’ ”

Harry, exhibit A in Amelia’s cat lecture, entered the kitchen, looking for food. Amelia handed her mother the printout and picked up her cat. “See, Mom, there’s the butterfly mark on his shoulder.” She pointed to a winged brown-and-black design.

“And here’s the swirly bull’s-eye on his side.” She lifted Harry higher to show off that marking. Harry’s brown paws kicked in the air.

“Are you sure?” Josie asked. “Harry looks like the photo of the mackerel tabby.”

“No, Mom, you’re not
looking
,” Amelia said with passionate intensity. “That cat in the picture has an
M
on his forehead, like a McDonald’s
M
, and straight stripes down his sides. He’s a mackerel tabby. Harry has swirly stripes and no
M
on his forehead, just some dark lines.”

“Looks about the same to me,” Josie said. She handed the printout to Ted. “Doctor, may we have a second opinion?”

“Harry is definitely a classic tabby,” he said.

“See, Mom,
you
weren’t listening,” Amelia said. “It’s the little stuff that makes a big difference. You don’t see the details.”

Josie didn’t like her daughter’s tone—a sort of superior whine—but decided to write it off to the upsets in their household. She hoped it wasn’t a foretaste of the teen years.

Josie’s marshmallows had melted into a creamy froth. She took a sip. “This is perfect.”

All three clinked hot chocolate cups and drank.

“Can’t say I’m any better at details,” Ted said. “I mistook Mrs. Mueller for a man.”

Amelia snorted. “Anybody can make that mistake.”

Harry, tired of being an exhibit, squirmed to get back to his food bowl. Amelia placed him gently on the floor. Josie heard the cat happily crunching his dry food. The three humans munched cookies and drank their hot chocolate.

Suddenly, Harry looked up, alert to a different set of sounds. Josie heard them, too: the patter of dog feet on the back stairs, followed by a slower, heavier tread. There was a knock on her back door.

“It’s Grandma with Stuart Little,” Amelia said, and ran to open the door. Harry left his food bowl for the safety of the couch.

Jane’s eyes peered from a mound of winter wool. “Stuart and I are going for a walk before we start dinner,” she said. “Who’d like to go with us?”

“I would!” Amelia said. Her grandmother had cleverly made dog walking a privilege.

“I’ll go with you,” Ted said. Josie was relieved he’d be their bodyguard. She didn’t want her daughter walking in the gathering dark with only her sixty-eight-year-old grandmother.

“I’ll go, too,” Josie said. “As backup.” She had the pepper spray in her purse.

Amelia already had on her coat. “Can I hold Stuart’s leash while you get ready?”

Jane handed her the red leash. “Stay on the porch until we join you,” she said.

The empty chocolate cups were abandoned on the table. Ted started to carry them to the sink. “Thanks, Ted, but we can clean up later,” Josie said. “We’d better get going.”

Harry had been sitting on the back of the couch like a mountain lion waiting on a rock. As Amelia passed him with Stuart on the leash, Harry jumped on the dog’s back, riding him like a circus pony. Stuart yelped in surprise. Amelia was opening the front door when Stuart tossed Harry off his back, yanked his leash out of Amelia’s hand, and dashed outside. Ears flat and short legs racing, he ran straight for Mrs. Mueller’s yard.

“Stop! Stuart, don’t go there!” Amelia cried.

Josie and Ted heard the yowls and barks, then the front door slamming. “Uh-oh,” Josie said. She and Ted both grabbed their coats. Jane was already out the door.

Josie heard Amelia’s shrieks followed by short, sharp barks. Then a voice like thunder rolled across the lawn.

“WHAT IS THAT BEAST DOING IN MY ROSES?” Mrs. Mueller was back from her constitutional and bristling with outrage.