Moving Can Be Murder (36 page)

Some people just can’t take a joke, and sad
to say, My Beloved is often one of them. So when the Fairport
police called him to say Lucy and I had been taken into the station
for -- Well, what exactly was the charge? Invasion of garbage? – he
wasn’t pleased.

Of course, Jim immediately called Jenny (who
was not the least bit surprised at her mother’s latest antics) and
Mark, and they all hustled to the police station to spring Lucy and
me. Lucy, by the way, was having a grand time, having won the heart
of the arresting officer by turning on the charm and being extra
loving and adorable. The fact that there were some doggy biscuits
involved definitely helped.

I had not endeared myself to the officer,
however, since I refused to get into the police cruiser without the
bag of Sara’s garbage. I thought that was a reasonable request,
since I’d always intended to give it to the police as evidence. Or
possible evidence.

Anyway, by the time the sun came up over the
Fairport police station, and I had shared my new theory 20 or 30
times about Jack Cartwright’s death with Jim, Jenny, Mark, Paul
Wheeler, and the assorted police staff who were unlucky enough to
be working that shift, I finally convinced them that it was worth
looking inside the garbage bag for the meat wrapper.

They made me do it, of course. And I got
lucky. Because Sara Miller was a complete neat freak, and the
wrapper was inside another plastic bag marked, “For Show House.”
Jeez, who labels their garbage? Was she expecting a tax receipt for
a donation?

OK, so this wasn’t solid evidence that a
crime had been committed. I knew that. But Mark went to bat for me
– still again – and convinced Paul and the other detectives to at
least examine the wrapper for traces of, well, you know.

All in all, a good night’s work. If it
turned out I was wrong, well, I was wrong. But I’d given the
Fairport police not one but two viable suspects, and after that, it
was up to them.

After all, a private citizen like me can
only be expected to do so much. (Smile.)

Chapter 35

The only reason I have a kitchen is
because

it came with the house.

“I still can’t believe she labeled her
garbage,” Nancy said. “How anal-retentive is that? It’s like she
was begging to be caught.”

It turned out to be Sara Miller, of course,
who was responsible for Jack’s death. She admitted to the police
that there had been a fight in her kitchen between Alyssa and Jack
that began as words but ended with Jack becoming violent and
hitting Alyssa across her face again and again. Sara walked in on
the abuse and let Jack have it with the first thing she could lay
her hands on, the beef tenderloin defrosting on the counter.
(Turned out that Sara had exaggerated about always ‘cooking fresh.’
But you figured that out already, right?)

Jack came to the house walk-through,
complaining of a minor headache. But nobody suspected how seriously
he was hurt. The theory is that, for some unknown reason, he stayed
behind after everyone else left, collapsed in our living room, and
died there. Just like I’d imagined.

Larry McGee, good guy that he is, took on
Sara’s case pro bono and is currently negotiating for a dismissal
of the charges based on Sara’s right to defend her daughter. I pray
it doesn’t come to trial, especially for Alyssa and her children’s
sake. They deserve some peace in their lives.

Two months had passed since the Great
Garbage Caper, and it was almost Labor Day weekend. Where did the
summer go?

Of course, I ask myself this same thing
every year.

My article on domestic violence had been
published by our local paper, and even though it wouldn’t be
nominated for any awards, I was pretty proud of it. And Sister Rose
was, too.

The show house was over, and Jim and I were
still without permanent digs. We’d finally had another offer on our
house, and I let My Beloved handle the whole transaction this time.
I had such bad memories of the last deal, and one of us had to
concentrate on finding a new home before we came to blows in our
tiny apartment.

“You’re a fine one to criticize Sara about
being anal-retentive,” I said to Nancy as we whipped along some
country roads outside of Fairport’s town limits in still another
house search. “I seem to remember that someone I know and love
keeps closets in her home with clothes organized by season. And a
journal of when she’s worn what outfit, where she’s worn it, what
accessories she used, and who saw her in it. Not that I’m
mentioning any names, of course.”

“Point taken,” said Nancy.

“Now, sweetie,” she said, leaning over and
patting my arm, “I just know you’re going to love this house. You
better, because, quite frankly, trying to find you and Jim a new
home is getting to be a royal pain. You’ve found fault with every
single property I’ve shown you. Nothing is going to be perfect.
You’ve got to compromise. If you don’t love this one, I swear I’m
giving up, and you’re on your own. In fact,” Nancy swerved her
brand new silver gray Mercedes over to the side of the road and
parked, “I have an idea. You’re going to complain this one is too
far out of town, but it’s a gorgeous house. Put this on.”

She handed me a blindfold.

I gaped at her. “What the heck are you
doing?”

“Put it on, Carol, or you’re going to have
to walk back to town. No arguments.”

Sheesh. “All right, all right.” I covered my
eyes and tied the blindfold on tight.

“No peeking,” Nancy said, and we took off
again.

After about another twenty minutes – I’m
guessing here because I couldn’t see my watch – we rolled to a
stop.

“Sit tight. I’ll come around and get you.
Don’t open the door.”

Nancy took my arm and pulled me from the
car.

“Hang on to me. There are two steps. OK,
we’re at the front door.”

“Can I look now?” I asked. “This is
ridiculous.”

“Now!” Nancy said, whipping off the
blindfold and pushing me into the foyer of my very own house.

Holy cow. Holy everything. I was back home.
Not the show house, but my house. Only better. Newer. Wider
doorways. No crooked floors. A new staircase with safer, less steep
treads. And a banister that didn’t wriggle.

She led me into the kitchen. Hello bead
board cabinets. Hello black granite island. Goodbye red
countertops. My kitchen. My kitchen.

“Nancy, I don’t know what to say. How did
you do all this? I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t do much at all,” Nancy said. “But
there’s a pretty wonderful guy in the family room who organized the
whole transformation. Go in and say hello.”

Jim came toward me, arms open wide.
“Surprised, honey?” he asked.

“Surprised? I'm in shock. And what about
your heart. Jim? I don't want you to risk your health taking care
of this house just for me.”

“I'm way ahead of you,” My Beloved said with
just a hint of a twinkle. “I already hired someone to do the
yardwork. He also does snow plowing, so we're covered for all
seasons. When we need more help, we'll hire someone. I figure we'll
be helping the economy in our own small way. This is where we
belong, Carol.

“But I didn’t do this all by myself. Marcia
Fischer was a tremendous help. She wanted to thank you for figuring
out what really happened to Jack Cartwright.

“There are a few more folks here who wanted
to come and say hello. Close your eyes again.”

“Jim, I don’t think I can take any more
surprises,” I said.

“Welcome home, Mom,” said Jenny, throwing
her arms around me and giving me a big kiss. “And you thought I
couldn’t keep a secret.

“Well, here’s another one.” She waved her
hand in front of my face to show off a beautiful diamond solitaire.
Mark stood behind her, beaming.

“Oh, I’m so happy,” I said. “For you. For
all of us. This is the best surprise anyone’s ever had.” I hugged
them both so hard my arms felt like they were going to fall
off.

“There’s one more surprise, Carol. In the
hall. And this one’s a doozy. Wait a minute,” My Beloved said. “And
close your eyes one more time.”

I stood there, eyes closed, tears streaming
down my cheeks.

“Open your eyes, Carol.”

“Surprise, Mom,” said my long-lost son,
giving me a gigantic bear hug. Then he stepped away to reveal the
adorable girl standing behind him.

“This is Marlee.

“My wife.”

I guess it was then that I fainted.

The Moving
Quiz

Are you (and Your Beloved) having the
Relocation Conversation? Should you stay in your current home, or
strike out for someplace new?

To get the conversation started, here are
some things to consider:

How do you rate the community where you now
live? Include factors like public safety, property taxes (and the
possibility of an increase), access to public transportation,
availability of senior services, and trash/recycling
collection.

Do you love your current home? Is it
convenient to stores, dry cleaners, your faith community, and other
things that are important to you? If you live alone, is there
someone you can count on to check on you to be sure you are
OK?

Does your current home have potential for a
first-floor master bedroom and bath, with no stairs involved? Ditto
a convenient laundry area? Are doorways wide, or could they be
widened easily if necessary?

Could you close off some unused rooms and
save on energy costs?

Is your mortgage paid off? Can you manage the
property taxes, insurance and maintenance expenses?

Does the idea of cleaning out closets and
packing up belongings overwhelm you?

Could you keep your house in “company”
condition all the time? Could you tolerate showing your house to
potential buyers at a moment’s notice?

Are you prepared to move away from family and
friends? Your doctors and dentist? (Your hairdresser?)

OK, let’s say
you’ve thought about all these questions and you’ve decided to
move. Let’s think about where to go.

Do you have a bit of wanderlust, and want a
complete change in lifestyle, climate or even country?

Do you prefer to live in a city, suburb,
small town, or rural area?

Which of these appeals to you the most: a
golf community, beach resort, over-55 development or a diverse,
mixed-age neighborhood? None of these?

If you are a couple, do you both want to
move, or is one of you doing it for the other? (Be honest with your
answer. This is a big step and both partners should agree.)

How quickly do you think you’d develop
friendships in a new location?

Do you have hobbies or other activities that
will get you out of the house in your new community? Does your
partner?