Murder Is a Piece of Cake (19 page)

A Waterford vase crashed into the makeshift shield, and Josie’s defense crumpled.
She dropped to the carpet and crawled to the pile of Macy’s presents. Josie hurled
the six-pack of Lenox wineglasses. They hit the folding table and shattered.

Wedding presents were flying everywhere. She ducked as the toaster sailed past, and
reached for the blender.

It missed Emily and bounced on the thick carpet.

There was nowhere for Josie to hide. She crawled backward, hoping to break for the
back door.

More crystal shattered against the wall near Josie. She made it to the bone china
place settings and tossed dish after dish, like a drunk at a Greek restaurant. One
plate glanced off Emily’s shoulder, but it barely stopped her.

Josie ducked behind another pile of boxes, searching for more weapons. She threw the
coffeepot at Emily. Emily charged, swung a silver candlestick at Josie’s head, and
gouged the wall.

Josie felt for something else to throw and connected with the pizza stone. She held
the heavy piece by the handles like a shield, turned, and whapped Emily on the head
with it.

There was a sound like a gong.

Emily dropped senseless to the carpet.

Chapter 34

Thursday, November 1

Josie stood over the killer’s body, still holding the pizza stone. She was prepared
to clobber Emily again if she moved.

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket with one hand and said, “Operator, it’s
me, Josie Marcus. I called you. I was being attacked by a killer. It’s Emily Deaver
Destin. She killed two people: her sister, Molly Ann Deaver, and Molly’s coworker,
Rita Kutchner. I need the police and an ambulance. I’m at Emily’s home in the Estates
at Wood Winds. It’s a big glass house. I’m not sure of the address.”

“The police are on the way, ma’am,” the operator said. “So you need medical assistance?”

“No, but I think the woman who attacked me does. She’s out cold on the floor.”

“You should leave the house immediately, ma’am. Go outside and stay on the line until
the police arrive.”

Josie heard sirens slicing through the subdivision’s sleepy silence and saw Alyce
sprinting across the lawn, screaming, “Josie! What’s happened?” She ran into Emily’s
living room shouting, “Are you hurt?” Alyce had gone even whiter with worry, and her
pale blond hair was flying straight out. Her chest was heaving after the short run
from her house.

“I’m okay, Alyce,” Josie said. “Go home to Justin.”

“Ma’am?” the 911 operator said. “Are you still on the line? Are you in danger?”

“I’m here,” Josie said. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve asked you to leave the house immediately. Go outside and stay on the line until
the police arrive.”

Three patrol cars slammed up the double driveway.

“They’re here,” Josie said, and hung up. She and Alyce watched the officer emerging
from the car. He was about thirty, with a strong jaw and a shaved head. His name tag
said
RICE
.

Officer Rice and another uniformed officer with a soft face entered the front door,
hands poised over unsnapped holsters. They walked like prowling cats—poised and alert.

“It’s okay, Officers,” Josie said. “The killer is passed out on the floor there.”

After a quick sweep of the house, they returned. Josie and Alyce followed behind them.
“Stay back, ma’am.” It was the soft-faced officer. His name tag said
DAVIS
. Officer Davis had a slight paunch and a five o’clock shadow at three in the afternoon.

“I’m representing Ms. Marcus,” Alyce said. “My client has that right.”

She was careful not to identify herself as an attorney. Alyce probably knew as much
about criminal law as her lawyer husband. Jake’s specialty was contracts. While he
was in law school, Alyce had audited his early-morning criminal law classes. Her course
notes got him an A.

Now she’d successfully bluffed her way into staying inside Emily’s house with Josie.

Emily, flat on the floor amid glass shards and shattered china, moaned softly. Josie
could see a plum-colored egg forming on her forehead.

Officer Davis directed Josie and her “attorney” to sit in the breakfast room. Alyce
didn’t correct the man about her title.

“You’ll need to surrender your cell phones,” he said.

“I live down the street,” Alyce said. “I didn’t bring mine.”

“Mine’s right here in my pocket,” Josie said, and handed it over. Davis took it and
nodded.

“I’d like to speak to my client,” Alyce said. “Alone.”

A uniformed woman officer stayed in the kitchen, watching them. Officer Davis joined
the other policemen in the living room.

From the breakfast room, the two women couldn’t see Emily, but they heard her. Sound
echoed in the empty, curtainless living room. “Let’s listen now and talk later,” Alyce
whispered.

Josie and Alyce watched three paramedics open a portable stretcher in the entrance
hall, then heard it crunch across the ruined wedding presents on the carpet.

“She seems okay, but she should be checked for a concussion at the hospital,” one
paramedic said.

“Not before I tell these officers how that woman attacked and robbed me,” Emily said.

“You’re refusing treatment?” the paramedic asked.

“No, but I insist on talking first,” Emily said. “Then you can take me to the ER.
Give me that paper and I’ll sign it.”

There was a pause. Josie guessed she was signing the EMS medical release.

“Will you also sign a search waiver?” Officer Rice asked.

“Of course,” Emily said. “I have nothing to hide.”

Next, Officer Rice cautioned Emily. Both policemen stayed silent as Emily wept and
spun her story about “that woman’s vicious attack.”

“She tried to steal my poor dead sister’s money,” Emily said through her tears.

Josie’s eyes opened wide at the lie. Alyce squeezed her arm. “Don’t say a word,” she
whispered. “Let the police handle this.”

“Molly Deaver is my sister,” Emily said. “She was shot to death by some woman from
Boca, Lenore Something Hall, in the parking lot at a veterinary clinic. She’s in jail.
Somehow that woman in my breakfast room found out my sister had had her wedding presents
delivered here and tried to rob me. I came into this room around three o’clock and
caught her red-handed. She’d opened all the wedding cards. I think there was more
than fifty thousand dollars in checks in them—gifts for my poor sister. You’ll find
that woman’s fingerprints all over the checks.”

Josie started to protest, but Alyce shook her head, warning her to stay silent.

“I don’t even know her name,” Emily said. That was the only truth in her fantastic
tale. “She attacked me with my sister’s china and crystal. See that box of broken
wineglasses? She threw them at me. I was forced to defend myself with that soup tureen.
That’s what’s left. It was painted with big roses.”

Oh, she’s good, Josie thought. My prints are on those glasses and the checks. Hers
will be on the tureen.

Emily took them on a tour of the war of the wedding presents. “I think I threw that
toaster at my attacker,” she said. “She tried to hit me with the blender, but she
missed. She threw all Molly’s china—ten place settings—at me. Her aim wasn’t very
good. She only hit me once, in the shoulder.

“She also hurled that heavy coffeepot at me. I tried to defend myself with a silver
candlestick. I swung at her and missed. You can see where I gouged my wall there.

“I was fighting for my life. I don’t think she was injured at all. I tried to run
out of the room to call for help, but she slammed me in the head with that heavy pizza
stone. It’s there on the floor. That’s all I remember until I woke up and saw you.”

Josie wished she could see the officers’ faces.

“What made you decide to come into the living room?” Officer Rice asked. “Did you
hear a sound?”

“I’m not sure,” Emily said. “This is a big house. More than five thousand square feet.
I think I had a bad feeling.”

“Was your front door locked?” Rice asked.

“We don’t lock our doors in this neighborhood,” Emily said. “It’s a gated community.”

“How did the attacker get past the gate guard?” Rice asked.

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “You’ll have to ask him.”

The officers gave no hint they knew about Josie’s 911 call for help.

Emily signed a statement swearing her fairy tale was true. Only then did she let the
paramedics wheel her away. A uniformed officer was sent along with the paramedics.

“She’s getting her head examined,” Alyce said.

“Should have done that years ago,” Josie said.

“Want to tell me what really happened?” Alyce asked.

Josie did, then said, “Shouldn’t you be home with Justin?”

“He’s asleep,” Alyce said. “His nanny is watching him. Justin’s fever broke about
noon.”

“I’m so glad,” Josie said.

“Me, too. He’s as cranky as his daddy when he has a cold,” Alyce said. “Must be a
guy thing.”

Josie thought it was sweet that Alyce seemed proud of her son’s so-called manly behavior.

“I can’t believe I let you go alone to a killer’s house,” Alyce said. “I thought she
was the sane sister.”

“She probably is,” Josie said. “That’s the sad part.”

The two police officers were back in the breakfast room.

“Ms. Marcus will be happy to talk to you,” Alyce said. “I’d like to use a phone first
to call my nanny. I need to ask her to stay late with my two-year-old son.”

Officer Davis checked the recent calls on Josie’s cell phone while Alyce used Rice’s
phone. The nanny reported that Justin was still napping and agreed to stay later.

Josie told a very different—and easily verifiable—story. Her nine-thirty arrival would
be confirmed later by the guard’s records. At least two neighbors and a mail carrier
had seen Josie’s gray Honda in Emily’s driveway until the police arrived at three
oh four.

It was nearly seven o’clock when Josie signed her statement and Officer Rice said
she could go home. Josie retrieved her phone. She was relieved to walk out of Emily’s
house more than nine hours after she’d entered it.

Alyce left with her. Her shoulders sagged and her pale skin looked dusted with flour.
Once outside, Josie still couldn’t leave. Haphazardly parked police cars and other
official vehicles blocked the street. While Josie waited for them to be moved, she
said, “Can I give you a ride home, Alyce?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I can see my house, but I’m too lazy to walk there.”

“You’re tired,” Josie said. “Not lazy.”

“At least I caught one break,” Alyce said. “Jake’s not home yet. He won’t know I was
mixed up in this mess. I can finish his dinner.”

Jake insisted on dinner every evening, come hell, high water, or homicide. Josie thought
he was inconsiderate, but Alyce seemed happy with her man and her marriage.

At last, a path was cleared for Josie’s car. She backed her Honda out of Emily’s drive,
then turned toward Alyce’s home. She stopped as a dark car tore through the cluster
of official vehicles. The driver roared up the Destin driveway, slammed on the brakes,
and sprinted toward the front door.

“That’s Emily’s husband, Brad,” Alyce said. “When did he trade in his Beemer for a
dark green Chevy Impala?”

“That’s it,” Josie said. “That wraps up the case.”

“It does?”

“A security tape caught a dark Impala on the street by the clinic the night Molly
was murdered,” Josie said. “Phoebe had one. That’s one reason I thought she was the
killer. But it was Emily. She drove her husband’s car when she shot her sister.”

Chapter 35

Thursday, November 1

“Were you hurt when you fought with Emily?” Alyce asked.

“Broke a nail,” Josie said. She was parked in Alyce’s driveway. Josie held out her
right hand and her friend examined the break.

“Just a tiny chip,” she said. “You can file it down when you get home. Once your manicurist
fixes it, it won’t show.”

“Where?” Josie looked at her blankly.

“In your wedding photos. You’ll want a close-up photo of your hands with your new
wedding ring or your hands and Ted’s,” Alyce said. “It’s a tradition. Like a bridal
shower.”

Josie looked at her frazzled friend. “Are you in any shape to give a shower?” she
asked.

“All I need is a night’s sleep,” Alyce said. “You are not getting out of that shower.
You will show up at two o’clock, and if you care about our friendship, you’ll have
a good time.”

“Amelia’s looking forward to it,” Josie said. “She wants to ask how you make phyllo
purses. I don’t remember accessories on my wish list.”

Alyce laughed. “You eat phyllo purses,” she said. “They’re made of dough, silly; they
don’t hold it. See you Saturday.”

Josie waved good-bye to the guard at the Wood Winds gate and parked at the first store
lot after she left the subdivision to check her phone messages. Both Lenore’s lawyer
and Jane had called.

She longed to call Ted first with her news, but she knew she had to call Shel Clark.
She didn’t want the lawyer’s investigator bothering innocent Phoebe.

“Ms. Marcus,” Clark said. “So nice of you to return my call.”

Josie wondered if he was being sarcastic, then realized she was getting high-priced
soft soap.

“Dr. Scottsmeyer told me what you learned about Phoebe Winstid,” Clark said. “My investigator
will be following up. What else do you know?”

“She didn’t do it,” Josie said. “I was wrong.”

“Good of you to admit it,” he said. “That will save Mrs. Scottsmeyer Hall time and
money.”

“The killer has been caught,” Josie said. “It’s a matter of time before she’s arrested.”
Josie told him about Emily and the 911 tape.

“And you’re certain you weren’t harmed?” he said.

“Just a chipped fingernail,” she said.

“Some of my clients would consider that a major injury,” he said. “I’d better move.
Once the police make that arrest, I could have my client released within twenty-four
hours.”

“I’m so glad,” Josie said.

“Oh, Ms. Marcus, one more thing. Mrs. Scottsmeyer Hall asked me to convey a concern
about your impending wedding.”

“What is it?” Josie asked. She was in no mood for Lenore’s meddling.

“She wishes to buy the table centerpieces for your reception.”

“But we already ordered poinsettias,” Josie said.

“She is aware of that,” Clark said. “She’ll reimburse you for their cost. She’d like
you to order something a little more, uh—” Words failed him.

Josie let Clark struggle to find the right one. She suspected the lawyer cost Lenore
about six hundred dollars an hour. His three-second pause added about fifty cents
to the bill.

“Formal,” he said. “Lenore says you can choose roses, orchids, hydrangeas, anything
else you like.”

For a mean moment, Josie thought about spray-painting plastic flowers gold for the
wedding reception tables, but she knew better. She’d only punish herself and embarrass
Ted, Amelia, and Jane.

Besides, she’d loved Gretchen’s clever centerpieces with the white zinnias, red dahlias,
and white tea lights. Josie had wanted those, but they were out of her price range.
Why not let Lenore give them?

Because she’ll be running our lives, Josie told herself.

But she’ll be living more than twelve hundred miles away in Boca. Let Lenore treat
you to the flowers you want. You can handle her when she’s out of jail. Woman up.

“I have just the flowers in mind,” Josie said.

“Super,” he said. “Order them and send the bill to my office.”

As soon as the lawyer hung up, Josie called Ted.

“I got the real killer,” she said, and told him the story. “Come to my house now.
We’ll celebrate with Mom and Amelia.”

“Should I make dinner?” Ted asked.

“I think they’ve made tilapia,” Josie said. “I’d better call and make sure they save
us some food.”

Josie didn’t have to see her mother to know Jane was upset. “It’s after seven o’clock,”
her mother said. “You could have called and said you were going to be so late.”

“No, I couldn’t, Mom,” Josie said. “The police took my phone. I caught Molly’s killer—the
real killer. I’m okay, Mom. I’ll come right home and tell you all about it. Oh, and
Ted’s coming for dinner. Is there enough for him?”

“Of course,” Jane said. “Get home here and tell me everything.”

Ted arrived at the flat just before Josie. “I brought wine for the celebration,” he
said. Their lingering kiss on the lawn made Josie forget how tired she was. Then she
heard Amelia call from the porch, “Hi, Ted! Hi, Mom. Hurry up. Dinner’s ready.”

“To be continued,” Josie whispered in Ted’s ear.

The food quickly disappeared. Amelia was flattered when Ted asked for the recipe for
the Parmesan tilapia. Josie regaled them with how she’d captured the killer. Ted and
Jane toasted her success.

Even Amelia dropped her preteen ennui. “Awesome, Mom,” she said. “Everyone else’s
mom is a boring doctor or lawyer, but you catch killers.”

“Mostly by accident,” Josie said.

“To my beautiful detective,” Ted said, and raised his glass again.

“And while we’re catching crooks,” Jane said, “I want to salute my son for trapping
that flower thief.” Over their chocolate mousse, Jane told Ted the story of the mum
thief.

After dessert, Jane and Amelia started clearing the table.

“No, you don’t,” Josie said. “Remember the rules: If you make dinner, you don’t do
the dishes.”

Jane kissed everyone good night and climbed the stairs with Stuart Little. “It’s nearly
ten o’clock,” Josie told Amelia. “Past your bedtime.”

Amelia hoisted Harry onto her shoulder, said good night, and headed to her room.

“She didn’t even protest,” Ted said. “She must be tired.”

“Or she wants to text her friends about her mom the killer catcher,” Josie said.

Five minutes later, Amelia shot out of her room. “Quick! Turn on the TV. There’s a
special report about Lenore’s arrest.”

Josie switched on the living room TV in time to hear the announcer say, “Lenore Scottsmeyer
Hall has been released from the St. Louis County Jail. As we reported earlier, Emily
Deaver Destin was arrested and charged with the first-degree murders of her sister,
Molly Ann Deaver, and another woman, Rita Marie Kutchner.

“Lenore Scottsmeyer Hall was wrongly arrested for the murder of Molly Deaver. The
newly freed Mrs. Scottsmeyer Hall has agreed to talk to our reporter outside the jail.
We’re waiting for her to come out now. Here she is with her attorney, Shelford Clark.”

The camera panned to Lenore, once again in glamorous black and full makeup. Josie
wondered if Clark had brought his client a clean suit and cosmetics.

“How does it feel to be free, Mrs. Scottsmeyer Hall?” the reporter asked.

“Wonderful,” Lenore said. “I want to thank my attorney, Shelford Clark of Boca Raton,
for expediting the process. I understand it can take more than twenty-four hours to
be freed, but Shel had me out within hours after the real killer was arrested.”

She hugged Clark and he beamed at her.

“I wonder how much Clark threatened to sue Rock Road Village for unless they hustled
Lenore out of jail,” Ted said.

“You’re so cynical,” Josie said, and laughed. But all the while, she was thinking,
What about me? Lenore wouldn’t be out of prison without my work.

“She didn’t even mention me,” she said. She couldn’t hide her hurt feelings.

Ted hugged her. “She doesn’t know the whole story yet,” he said.

The reporter said, “What are your plans now, Mrs. Scottsmeyer Hall? Are you taking
the first plane back to Boca?”

“Oh no,” Lenore said. “My son, Dr. Ted Scottsmeyer, is getting married the day after
Thanksgiving. I’m staying in St. Louis to help his bride with their wedding plans.”

“There,” Ted said. “Mom’s going to help. She didn’t forget you after all.”

Ted’s cell phone barked during the commercial break. “I hope that’s not a clinic emergency,”
he said.

He clicked on his phone and smiled. “Mom! You’re free. We saw you on TV. You looked
wonderful. Thanks for wanting to help Josie with the wedding after all you’ve been
through.”

Josie pasted a smile on her face.

“Of course you can talk to her,” Ted said. “She’s right here.”

He handed Josie his cell.

“Josie?” Lenore said. “My attorney says I owe you a debt of gratitude. That’s why
I agreed to stay and help with your wedding.”

“Thank you, but—,” Josie said.

“No need to thank me,” Lenore said. “My attorney said you got my message about the
centerpieces and have something in mind.”

“I already sent Mr. Clark the contract,” Josie said.

“Excellent,” Lenore said. “We’re having breakfast at the Ritz tomorrow. I need pampering.
Don’t forget your wedding plan notebook. We’ll go over everything at eight sharp.
Don’t be late.”

Before Josie could say anything, Lenore clicked off her phone.

“I told you Mom didn’t forget you,” Ted said. He was still grinning when Josie walked
him to his car and kissed him good night.

I’ve got to get Lenore back to Boca, Josie thought, before I go out of my mind.