Fat-Free and Fatal (A Kate Jasper Mystery) (30 page)

Paula took the lead. “Mr. Snyder and his cohort—I believe his name is Zach—held all of us here at gunpoint,” she recited calmly. Too calmly. “Apparently Mr. Snyder wished to question us about his wife’s murder—”

“His friend roughed up my dad,” Ken put in.

“Mr. Snyder also hit his daughter with his gun,” Paula continued. “I believe she is upstairs with her grandmother now—”

“Dan hit Topaz by accident!” Alice protested from where she stood, alone now. “And Zach did all the rest of the mean stuff. And Dan let me have the gun. And—”

“That’s enough,” Sergeant Oakley interrupted. “We’ll talk to you each one by one.” She switched on her wolf smile. “You know the routine.”

I did by the end of the evening. The routine was a rerun of the night of Sheila’s death. Except that there was no corpse. And Dan Snyder came out in handcuffs after his interview. Much to Alice’s loud distress. Her pleas did no good. She was led into the kitchen by one officer as Dan was led out the restaurant door by another set of officers who had apparently been called for that purpose. After Alice, the rest of us were interviewed individually by Sergeant Oakley. Paula, Gary, Iris and Barbara had already taken their turns by the time the female officer called my name. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and walked into the wolf’s den.

Sergeant Oakley was mercifully brusque. Maybe she was tired. She didn’t smile. She didn’t stare at me with warm, concerned eyes. She didn’t even try to draw me out. She just leaned back in her chair and demanded my version of the night’s events, then listened with no visible reaction to my words except for the briefest flicker of a smile when I described kneeing Zach in the groin.

“And tonight’s class was your idea,” she stated when I was finished. It wasn’t a question.

“Well,” I temporized, squirming in my chair. She narrowed her hazel eyes. “Mine and Barbara’s, I guess,” I told her.

“You guess?” she barked.

“I think Barbara suggested the idea to Meg and Alice,” I explained hastily. “And they actually set it up.”

Sergeant Oakley stood up the better to glare down at me. “Keep out of it,” she warned, her voice a quiet snarl. “I mean it.”

I nodded as hard as I could without nodding my head right off my neck.

“You can go now,” she told me.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Barbara was waiting for me in the dining room. We left the restaurant quietly, then broke into a run once we were out the door. Barbara beat me to the Toyota by a nose. I let her in, then climbed in myself. Safe in the Toyota’s womb, I took a series of deep breaths before sticking the key in the ignition.

As I turned the key, I heard a high, keening note from beside me. I swiveled my head toward Barbara. Her hands were over her eyes. Her mouth was wide and wailing. Damn. The night wasn’t over yet. I put my arm around her. Her wailing turned to sobs. I squeezed her shoulder helplessly.

“Jeez-Louise,” I muttered, unconsciously purloining Barbara’s own phrase.

Barbara’s hands dropped from her wet eyes. She frowned at me.

“What did you say?” she asked.

It took me a minute to remember. “Jeez-Louise?” I answered finally, still not sure.

She smiled moistly. “I knew I’d rub off on you sooner or later,” she told me.

I turned off the Toyota and handed her a Kleenex. She blew her nose loudly.

“You
have
rubbed off on me,” I assured her. “I even psychically willed Alice to drop her gun tonight.” I felt foolish saying it, but I wanted to cheer her up.

It didn’t work. Barbara’s smile disappeared. New tears squeezed out of her eyes.

“What did I say?” I asked her desperately.

“Kate,” she whispered. “I’ve lost them again.”

“Your psychic powers?” I asked, understanding dawning.

She nodded. “I tried to tune in to people’s minds,” she said, her voice taking on speed. “But all I got was a garble of disjointed thoughts. Like a dozen TV sets playing at once. It was awful!” She began to cry again.

“Did you lose it when Dan and Zach came in?” I asked, trying to distract her. She looked up, frowning. “Maybe the fear scrambled your signals,” I went on. I liked this theory. “Once you get over the shock—”

“It won’t wash, Kate,” she interrupted. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. “I started getting the weird signals before Zach and Dan ever showed up.”

I tried again. “Maybe you’re getting the murderer. Maybe a killer’s mind is so messed up it gives off weird signals.”

“That’s interesting,” she murmured slowly. She sat for a minute staring at the dashboard, lost in thought. “You know what?” she said finally.

“No, what?” I replied. “Have you figured out who did it?”

She laughed. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just going to tell you I was hungry.”

It took a moment for her answer to sink in. I was waiting for wisdom and she was giving me hunger.

My stomach let out a loud growl. That made it two against one. I looked at my watch. It was nearly eight o’clock. I turned the key in the ignition and pulled out from the curb.

By the time we were seated at the nearest Chinese restaurant, Barbara was cheerfully playing Guess-the-Murderer again. The Chinese restaurant had been my choice, not hers. Barbara had grown up on pot roast, potatoes and hamburgers. Chinese food held no nostalgic appeal for her.

“It’s Leo,” she whispered once the waiter had taken our order, pork chow mein for Barbara and moo shu vegetables for me. “I don’t think he actually had a heart attack. He was just afraid to answer Dan’s questions.”

“But why would he murder Sheila?” I demanded irritably. “What’s his motive?”

“Maybe it’s something Freudian. Maybe Sheila reminded him of his mother,” Barbara suggested.

“But Freud would have him kill his father, not his mother—”

“Maybe Sheila was blackmailing him,” Barbara went on, ignoring my brief interruption. “Maybe she saw him do something illegal. Maybe Leo didn’t like the way she hit her kid. Maybe Leo and Sheila were distant cousins, the only heirs to a mutual uncle’s fortune…”

The moo shu vegetables almost made up for listening to another hour of Barbara’s theories. Shredded black mushrooms, zucchini, green onions, bean sprouts, and cabbage sautéed and wrapped in thin pancakes with plum sauce. I savored my last bite and tuned back in to Barbara. She had covered Leo, Ken, Meg and Paula. I was glad she was enjoying herself. But I was really tired of murder. She was working on Alice now.

“Maybe Alice murdered Sheila because the commune did something wildly illegal twenty years ago and now Sheila was going to spill the beans,” she proposed. “Maybe Sheila did something to her twenty years ago that she’s never forgiven. Maybe Topaz is really Alice’s illegitimate kid and…”

I flagged the waiter for the check.

It wasn’t until I had dropped Barbara off at her apartment that I began to wonder if she might have hit upon the murderer’s motive in her long bout of supposition, much like a few zillion monkeys at typewriters will, given enough time, theoretically bang out the collected works of Shakespeare. Maybe I should have listened more carefully.

Wayne was waiting for me when I got home. His face looked worn and tired. His shoulders slumped. Then I remembered that he had spent the day with Vesta. I wondered if it had been worse than my evening with Dan and Zach.

“How’d it go?” I asked him cautiously.

“Talked to a lot of nurses,” he sighed. “Looked at a lot of condos.”

I put my arms around him and squeezed.

“And Vesta?” I asked softly as I released him.

He swiveled his head around to look behind him. Vesta was nowhere in sight.

“Fought me every step of the way. Didn’t like any of the nurses. Didn’t like any of the condos,” he whispered. “I don’t know, Kate.” He sighed again as he rubbed his temples. “I really may have to put her back in an institution. I can’t just kick her out. She can’t take care of herself. She’d end up on the street.”

I put my arms around him again and held him tight, trying to squeeze away his troubles. Trying to squeeze away my own. I didn’t know what the answer was for Vesta. I didn’t know what the answer was for Dan Snyder, either. How did Rose Snyder end up with Dan for a son, anyway? How did Wayne end up with Vesta for a mother?

I stepped back, shaking off the thoughts.

“Let’s go to bed,” I whispered.

Vesta didn’t bang on the wall that night. Maybe the universe wasn’t completely unjust after all.

In fact, Vesta didn’t make a peep the next day either. She ate her breakfast without a word. Her facial expressions were eloquent, though. Hurt, anger and hatred were the major themes. After she had swallowed her last bite of toast, she stomped back to her room.

By eleven, I was beginning to worry. I had only heard her leave her room once and that was for a quick trip to the bathroom. Should I check on her?

The phone rang before I could decide. It was Barbara.

“Felix called,” she said without further introduction. Her voice was tingling with excitement. “Dan Snyder’s been charged with a whole boatload of crimes, beginning with assault with a deadly weapon.” She paused. “Guess who got him out on bail?” she asked.

“Alice,” I answered. That one was too easy. “What about Zach?” I asked back.

“He’s disappeared, Kate,” Barbara told me. Her voice held a new note. Was it concern? “The cops can’t find him.”

“Do you think Zach is still in the county?” I wondered aloud, remembering my knee in his groin. My hands went cold. “Do you think he’s mad at me?” I whispered.

“Is the Pope Catholic?” Barbara replied.

“YOU KICKED THE doofus in the balls,” Barbara reminded me. As if I needed reminding. “He’s not gonna be very happy about it.”

“But he was the one…” I faltered.

I wanted to tell her that Zach had deserved the knee to the groin, but somehow I had a feeling Zach wouldn’t agree with me on that point.

“So how would he find me?” I demanded instead.

“He could try the phone book,” Barbara suggested.

My mouth went dry. In my mind, the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears became the sound of Zach’s fist pounding on my door. And I hadn’t even told Wayne about Zach. Damn.

“Don’t panic,” Barbara advised. “He probably doesn’t know your last name.”

The pounding diminished. Maybe Barbara was right. If I didn’t know Zach’s last name, he probably didn’t know mine.

“Unless he got it from Dan,” Barbara added helpfully.

“Barbara!” I yelped. “Stop it. My head feels like a tennis ball—”

“Never mind, kiddo,” she interrupted. “You’ll be safe. You’re going to spend the afternoon with me.”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” she said. Her voice took on a husky tone. “First thing, we’re going over to the city to take Alice out to lunch—”

“No way!” I objected. “You heard Sergeant Oakley. It’s dangerous to talk to these guys! One of them’s a murderer—”

“Not Alice,” Barbara said quietly.

I paused for a moment. Not Alice?

“But last night you said Topaz might be Alice’s illegitimate daughter,” I reminded her, keeping my voice even with an effort. “And then there was the theory about the commune—”

“That was last night,” she cut in again. “I don’t think it’s Alice anymore. And Kate, Alice knew Sheila. Think about it.” The phone was silent for a moment. It wasn’t enough time for me to figure out what I was supposed to be thinking about. “Alice knew Sheila longer than anyone else did,” Barbara added. “She’ll have some answers for us.”

“Answers to what?” I demanded. “What the hell are you talking about!”

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” she promised and hung up.

Twenty minutes later I heard a car in my driveway. I peeked through the curtains, afraid for a moment that Zach might be driving up. But all I saw was Barbara’s Volkswagen. That wasn’t a whole lot better. I had work to do, I told myself. This whole thing was too dangerous, I added. There were boundaries even in the best of friendships, and Barbara was pushing the limits of those boundaries. I stood up straighter. I wouldn’t go with her to San Francisco. That was all there was to it.

Ten minutes of arguing later, I was driving over the Golden Gate Bridge with Barbara next to me in the passenger’s seat. Vesta hadn’t replied when I shouted goodbye.

“Vesta’ll be fine,” Barbara assured me. “She’s manipulating you, kiddo. You let people push you around too much.”

“Is that a fact?” I drawled with a pointed glance in her direction.

Barbara had the grace to quietly avert her eyes for a moment, pretending to find great interest in the license plate of the car next to us. Or maybe she wasn’t pretending. The silence didn’t last long, though.

“Don’t worry,” she said, turning back to me. “Alice isn’t going to do anything to us in the middle of downtown San Francisco.”

Barbara had a point. But it turned out to be a moot one. We made our way through the downtown traffic, parked in the underground parking lot, walked four blocks and took the elevator up to Alice’s office. But Alice wasn’t there. And the woman at the desk claimed to have no idea where she’d gone. In fact, the woman at the desk was mighty annoyed. Alice was supposed to be covering the phones. And Meg was gone too. The woman was still muttering angrily as we left.