Dying in Style (32 page)

“I’m going to be fine,” Josie said, to her daughter and herself.

Epilogue

“Do you really think Marina killed Serge?” Josh said.

“I don’t think she meant to,” Josie said. “But I think she let him die. It was an impulse. She was angry with him. I don’t know how she stood Serge as long as she did. It was so unfair. He lived in luxury with Danessa and his harem while she did the dirty work.”

“If you ask me, living with Danessa didn’t sound like much fun,” Josh said.

“Serge and Danessa were two of a kind,” Josie said.

“So were Serge and Marina,” Josh said.

Josie and Josh seemed to be a lot alike, too, now that they were away from the Has Beans coffeehouse.

They were sitting at a table in the Schlafly Bottleworks, the new brewery in Maplewood. They’d admired the gleaming tanks of beer, guarded by shining glass, gilded by the warm fall sun. Beer making seemed so clean. Josie was recovering from her battle with Marina, but she still took too many showers. Josie wasn’t sure what she was trying to wash away. Her ribs didn’t hurt quite so much, and if she combed her hair carefully you couldn’t see the stitches in her scalp.

They’d ordered Josie’s favorite meal—offbeat appetizers. She forked into the red quinoa crawfish cakes slathered with lemon sour cream. Josh raided the spicy chorizo and sopressata sausages on the farmer’s platter. He was a neat eater. Josie never saw him stuff his face. His plate was simply suddenly empty.

An afternoon with Josh was nothing like her date with Stan. No early-bird specials and food fit for dentures. Josh was an adventurous eater. He’d suggested the goat cheese dip, the lamb skewers and the venison chili.

She liked the way he ordered. Josh never looked at the price of anything on the menu. Josie hated tightwads.

She liked his clothes, too. No sad shirts and old men’s pants for Josh. His navy sweater and khaki pants hugged him in all the right places.

Best of all, there were no awkward silences, no desperate “what do I talk about next?” thoughts. The topics stacked up like airplanes on O’Hare runways, then flew off in all directions.

“Yum. What’s that glaze on the lamb?” Josh said.

“Apple mint,” Josie said.

“I’m impressed. You’re quite the foodie,” he said.

“I read the menu,” she said. “It’s served over curried raisin-almond couscous.”

Josh laughed. “Another beer?” he said, as he signaled the server.

“Think I’ll try an oatmeal stout,” Josie said.

“There’s something sexy about a woman who drinks beer,” Josh said.

Josie tried to take ladylike sips, but the strong-flavored stout was too good for that. Josh watched her guzzle with little speculative looks.

“And now for dessert,” he said, when she had drained her glass.

“I’ll have the sticky toffee pudding,” Josie said.

“That, too,” he said. “But there’s my masterpiece.” He opened his backpack and brought out a manuscript, thick as a phonebook, and handed it to Josie. She took it reverently. It seemed fat with promise.

“Josie, will you read this and tell me what you really think? I want the truth.”

She studied his face. It was strong, but not conventionally handsome. His goatee was wicked. His hands, holding the manuscript so hopefully, were long and sensitive.

“I will,” she said. Why did she feel like she was committing to more than reading his novel?

“They have a film series here on Wednesdays called Strange Brew,” he said. “Cult films. They’re showing the Martin Scorsese movie
The Last Waltz
. It has these incredible performances by Muddy Waters, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan—”

“I’d love to,” Josie interrupted.

“Really?” Josh seemed surprised. “The last woman I asked said she didn’t want to see a bunch of old guys who were famous before she was born.” Josh took Josie’s hand. There was that delicious tingle again.

“Coffee?” the server said, as she brought them their sticky toffee pudding.

“Thanks,” Josie said, “but I’ve had enough coffee.”

“It’s time for something stronger,” Josh said and kissed her. He threw down some money and they left their desserts untouched on the table.

“So did you . . . you know?” Alyce said. Her slate-blue eyes were bright with questions. Her white-blond hair did that expensive floaty thing.

Alyce and Josie were at Spencer’s Grill, where the waitress poured them their usual bottomless cups of coffee. Generations of St. Louisans had drunk from the grill’s thick china coffee cups. There was a permanence here you couldn’t find at a fast-food joint.

“Did I what?” Josie said, straight-faced.

“Did you go home with Josh?” Alyce blushed.

“Do you think I’d do something so trashy on the first date?” Josie said, with a sly smile. “I don’t know anything about the man.”

“I know Josh is a hottie,” Alyce said. “Any woman would go home with him if she had half a chance. Besides, it wasn’t a first date, not really. How long have you been flirting with him over coffee? You saw him first thing in the morning, too. You can tell a lot about a man in the morning.”

“I love it when you rationalize,” Josie said. “Which is more important—sex or rationalization?”

“Sex?” Alyce said tentatively.

“Rationalization. Just try to get through the day without it.”

“You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?” Alyce said.

“A woman needs a few secrets, even from her best friend,” Josie said.

“Then I won’t tell you my secret,” Alyce said.

“You’re dying to tell me. Spill,” Josie commanded.

“Jake surprised me with a cruise for our anniversary. We’re sailing on the
Queen Mary 2
right after Thanksgiving. The new nanny will take care of the baby for a week.”

“New nanny?” Josie said.

“The old one quit,” Alyce said. “I hired this one from a different agency. She’s a lovely woman. Excellent references. Mature and experienced. Also fat. Fatter than me.”

“Not fat—a woman of substance,” Josie said. They clinked coffee cups.

“Now I have a secret for you,” Josie said. She leaned in to confide in Alyce and lowered her voice. “You won’t believe this. Detective Michael Yawney stopped by Saturday afternoon to ‘clear up a few things.’ I thought he was going to give me more details on the case. Instead he hit on me.”

“That man is such a slut,” Alyce said. “He’s worse than Amy.”

“Do you really think he slept with her while he was working the case?” Josie said.

“Who knows? Who cares?” Alyce said. “Amy can’t remember who she’s slept with anymore.”

“Detective Yawney isn’t going to make Husband of the Year, that’s for sure,” Josie said. “He said he and his wife had an ‘understanding.’ They were staying together for the sake of the children.”

“He expected you to swallow that old line?”

“That and a few other things.”

“Josie Marcus,” Alyce said, “I am shocked.”

“At me or him?”

“Both of you. But I’m glad you turned him down.” Alyce looked so happy. She didn’t just float when she walked, she seemed to levitate slightly in the booth. Josie was delighted her friend’s marriage was over its rough patch.

“So when’s our next shopping assignment?” Alyce said when the waitress brought their check.

“My boss, Harry, is supposed to call around noon with a new one,” Josie said. “I should get home and do some laundry while I have the chance. Now that the doctor gave me the okay, I’m going to be a wage slave again.”

“Harry had better give you a good job,” Alyce said. “Or he’ll hear from your lawyer.”

Josie’s home was wonderfully quiet. Her mother’s TV was mercifully silent. Amelia was at school. Josie reveled in the quiet for half an hour, then went to work. She threw a load of laundry in the washer, cleaned the kitchen, then vacuumed and dusted the living room, making sure to remove all the cobwebs she’d studied during her interrogation by the homicide detectives.

She was dumping wet clothes into the dryer when the doorbell rang. The UPS driver with the blue eyes and boyish grin was back on her doorstep. The man was definitely eye candy.

I wonder if he delivers? Josie thought.

“Package for Mrs. Jane Marcus,” he said. “Will you sign for it?”

Josie looked at the return label. It said HOME SHOPPING NETWORK.

“Nope.” Josie wrote “Refused.” The driver shrugged.

At least Mom is at her appointment with her counselor, Josie thought. I guess that’s progress.

Harry called an hour later. Her meathead of a boss had been superfriendly since she’d been cleared of Danessa’s murder. You got more respect when your lawyer talked to your boss, Josie thought.

As Harry talked, Josie heard the sounds of a hyena gnawing an antelope carcass.

“What are you eating now?” Josie said.

“Prime rib,” Harry said.

Chomp. Slurp.

“This Atkins diet is the best,” he said. “I’ve lost two pounds.”

Josie noticed he didn’t say “another two pounds.” He kept losing those same pounds, over and over.

“Shit!” Harry said.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“Spilled the au juice on your assignment. Wait a minute, where’s my napkin? I got another job for you at Plaza Venetia.”

“Harry! I can’t go back there. Not for a while.”

“Why not?” Chomp. Slurp. Double slurp. Harry was drinking something—the au jus? Josie hoped he wasn’t licking it off her assignment sheet.

“No one is going to recognize you. You weren’t on TV,” he said. “You never made the paper. You were damn lucky.”

Chomp.

“It’s not like people were looking at your face when you were dangling over their heads, you know what I mean?”

Thank you for that picture, Josie thought.

“Besides, it’s a nice assignment,” Harry said.

Chomp. Slurp. Snuffle.

He’s working too hard to sell this assignment, Josie thought. Something is wrong with it.

“What is it?” she said.

“I want you to shop a shoe store. Very upper-upper. Seems they’ve got a little problem. They want you to ask for a salesman named Mel. He’s really into ladies’ feet, if you know what I mean.”

“You want me to investigate a pervert?”

“He’s not dangerous, Josie. The worst he’ll do is give you a foot massage. Might feel good on your tired tootsies. Consider it like a bonus.”

“A bonus! Harry, tell me you’re joking.”

“Of course, I’m joking,” Harry sounded as slippery as his grease-covered fingers. “Listen, this Mel may not even be what they think he is,” he said. “The store owners are a little suspicious, that’s all. They’ve had a couple of complaints from lady customers and they don’t know how seriously to take them. Women can be crazy, you know what I mean?”

Josie could feel the anger rippling through her. She wanted to reach through the phone and stuff that prime rib down his fat throat. Of course, that would only confirm Harry’s opinion of women.

He chewed for a while, unaware of her silence. “They don’t want to fire the guy and risk a lawsuit until they know for sure,” Harry said. “He likes brunettes, which is why I picked you. So go try on the nice shoes at the nice store.”

Slurp. Chomp.

Josie groaned.

“Hey, don’t give me that,” Harry said. “It’s not that bad. They pay twenty-five dollars extra. You’ll do it, right?”

“The game’s afoot,” Josie said.

Josie’s Shopping Secrets

Like all good shoppers, Josie gets her information the old-fashioned way—by milling around the malls. She’s also picked up some good ideas from consumer advice books, the Internet and news stories. Here are her favorite shopping tips, designed to take the mystery out of shopping.

It’s your bag:
Long to tote the same bag as a big star? Maybe you can’t buy a designer bag that costs more than your rent. Fashionistas like Gwyneth Paltrow are photographed with Fendi satchels, but the star is also reported to carry a tote from New York’s legendary Strand Book Store.

The Strand’s large black canvas tote is $12.95, which fits nicely into most budgets. The small tote is $5.95. To order, call 212-473-1452. Or order online at
strandbooks.com
.

Best time to bag the best bag:
If you want service, Josie and other experts say to shop weekday mornings. Josie finds the ideal shopping hours for her are between ten and eleven o’clock, Monday through Friday. There are fewer customers in the stores and salespeople can spend more time with her. By midafternoon, the help is harried. Weekends are hopeless.

At some department stores and boutiques, shoppers can call in advance and make an appointment with a sales associate. Tell her the type of clothes or accessories that you want, and they will be waiting for you. That saves your time and energy.

Tripping over bargains:
Feeling guilty because you splurge on designer purses, shoes or suits on your business trip or vacation? That may be the best time to buy. You may not have to pay that hefty sales tax if your purchase is shipped home from another state. Often, the hitch is the store cannot have a retail outlet in your state if you want to beat the sales tax. Check with your sales associate before you buy to make sure you’ll get a sales-tax break.

Ask and you may receive:
As Josie can tell you, serious shopping takes nerve as well as skill. If you are spending major money, ask the store for a discount. Don’t bother if you’re buying a nine-dollar T-shirt. But if you’re going into four figures, it’s worth a try. You may get 10 percent or so off the price. The worst the store can do is say no.

You can also ask if there’s a discount if you pay cash. Small independent stores are more likely to say yes to this. They get hit hard by credit-card fees.

Learn to wait:
Shopping can be a cat-and-mouse game. If you can’t quite afford that designer dress or handbag, go back at the end of the month. Many stores have monthly sales quotas. The store may give you a discount as that deadline looms—but only if you ask. Of course, your item could be gone by then, but in that case you’ll save even more.