Silence Of The Hams (17 page)

“You are a callous woman,“ Jane said.

“So are you, and you know it.”

Jane sighed. “What time?“

“Eleven.”

Rhonda Stonecipher had split the difference between grief and gaiety. She wore a gray linen suit with a matching hat that even had a suggestion of a veil. “Where did she find that!“ Shelley whispered. “That’s a great hat!”

But with the gray suit, she wore a gray, white, and fuschia–striped silk blouse with a matching fabric purse and a drapey fuschia scarf affixed with a large silver pin. It was a stunning outfit. She maintained a dignified and aloof manner, sitting at the front of the church with a number of people who were presumably members of her family or that of her late husband. She dabbed her eyes daintily from time to time with an old-fashioned fabric handkerchief with lacy trim.

There was a man who looked like an older version of Robert Stonecipher, who was presumably his brother. A very small woman with sharp, foxy features stood by him. A middle-aged woman who looked a great deal like Rhonda, without the money to dress as well, was in the front pew as well, with a man who looked like he’d rather be almost anywhere else. A woman in her twenties who must have been Rhonda’s daughter because she had Rhonda’s features, but very fair coloring, stood next to her mother. She was holding a baby.

“Rhonda must be a grandmother,“ Jane whispered to Shelley. “She sure keeps that quiet.”

Jane found herself feeling sorry for Tony Belton. Rhonda had apparently forced him to sit with her and the family, and he looked miserable. Rhonda shared his hymnal, leaning ever so slightly on his arm. The family members on her other side kept shooting him murderous glances. Or perhaps they were aimed at Rhonda and merely ricocheting.

Jane guessed the Stoneciphers weren’t regular churchgoers, or perhaps the minister just didn’t know them well. It was a generic service, without any reference to the man’s life or circumstances surrounding his death.

Tony Belton gave a very short eulogy with the air of a man who had been forced into it, but did a workmanlike job. He concentrated, without being specific, on Stonecipher’s civic interests. “His ideas weren’t always popular,“ he admitted, “but he did what he thought he had to for the greater good of the community.“ As he meandered off into an account of Stonecipher’s education, Jane’s attention wandered. The church was less than half full, and those attending the service were widely scattered, as people do when they’re attending a funeral out of duty, not friendship.

Patsy Mallett had come in her role as business acquaintance. She was sitting alone and looking down intently, as if she had something in her lap she was reading. As Jane watched, Patsy wet her finger to turn a page.

Grace Axton was there as well. Also alone. She stared straight ahead, absolutely expressionless, her mind probably a thousand miles away.

There was a contingent of men who had to be lawyers judging by their golf tans and ex- pensive summer suits. A few couples who were probably neighbors were sitting here and there, and several small groups of women filled in some of the gaps. Jane vaguely recognized a few of them as what remained of a once-large segment of society known as “clubwomen“—those ladies whose lives revolved around the garden club, beautification projects, and various good works. Jane found herself cynically wondering how many of them had gotten stuck paying for a lunch or dinner or drink for Rhonda.

When the service was done, Jane whispered, “I don’t do gravesides.“

“Neither do I,“ Shelley answered. “I’m surprised Grace was here. Who’s that woman she’s talking to?“

“That’s Patsy Mallett. Come meet her.”

Jane introduced the two women and left them gingerly assessing each other while she walked out to the parking lot with Grace Axton. “I was surprised to see you here,“ she said frankly to Grace.

“I thought since the man actually died in our place, somebody should show up. But it was a mistake. I’ve never felt like such a hypocrite in my life,“ Grace replied.

“Is Sarah home from the hospital?“ Jane asked. Grace nodded while rummaging in her purse for car keys. “How’s she doing?“

“Oh, fine. Fine. I think she’d be better if Conrad would stop protecting her. But it’s none of my business. I’ve got to rush, Jane.“

“Sure. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Shelley and Patsy emerged from the church a minute later, talking and nodding. Good, Jane thought. Often people who were a lot alike got along well. Occasionally they took an instant dislike to each other. But it looked as if Shelley and Patsy were hitting it off great. Jane finally pried them apart and drove home. “We’re meeting Patsy at two to talk about the high school graduation night plans for next year,“ Shelley said. “Fascinating woman.”

When Jane got home, Todd was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal and fending off the cats, who were sitting on chairs, watching every slurpy bite and hoping for a milk spill. “Mike’s been calling and calling, Mom. You’re supposed to call him back at the deli.”

Alarmed, Jane dialed. Mike answered. “What’s wrong?“ she asked.

“Calm down, Mom. I just left my billfold at home with my driver’s license.“

“Oh, is that all! You scared me. Why didn’t you just come home and get it?“

“Because there’s a cop sitting out front with a speed trap.“

“Then don’t speed or walk home.”

Mike didn’t even bother to scoff at the idea of walking. “Mom, you want to talk about what’ll happen to your insurance rates if he decides to stop me anyhow and I’m driving without a license?“

“Okay, okay. You’re right. Where’s the billfold?”

She ventured into his room, trying not to see the piles of dirty laundry, trying not to think how very soon this room would be unoccupied most of the time and dirty laundry would be a welcome sight, and found the billfold just where he said it was. Instead of parking in front, she pulled through the alley and parked next to Mike’s truck in the back. He was loading carry-out lunches into the back. She handed over the billfold.

“Thanks, Mom. Listen—“ he said, taking her aside and lowering his voice. “Something weird. I parked here this morning about an hour ago, went inside to help out, and when I came back out, I realized somebody had been in the truck.“

“What?“

“They didn’t take anything. There’s nothing to take. I left my portable CD player at home today. I guess maybe somebody knew I had one and was going to grab it.“

“If nothing’s missing, how do you know somebody got into the truck?“

“Because the seat was pushed back as far as it can go.“

“Good Lord! Do you think someone was trying to steal it?“

“I don’t know, but I’m locking it up every time I get out now. And if you park back here again, you should, too.“

“Mike, I’d pay somebody to steal the station wagon,“ she joked.

“Lock it up anyway,“ he said seriously. “There’s lots of kids around here and they were probably just looking over the truck, but still—come inside. Conrad has something he wants you to try. I’ve got to go. See you later.”

Jane did as he suggested, then knocked on the back door to the kitchen. Sarah opened the door. “Oh, Jane. Good. Conrad wants you to try the artichoke dip. It’s a new recipe.“

“Sarah?“ Conrad said, “What are you doing down here? I told you I don’t need any help. You should be upstairs resting. Hi, Jane. Come on in.”

Grace was cutting up spring onions. “Conrad, she’s rested all morning,“ she said.

“Yes, honey. I need something to do,“ Sarah said.

“Not until you’re back up to speed,“ he said firmly, giving her a light kiss and a gentle shove toward the stairway.

Sarah went without any more protest, but Jane saw Grace’s back stiffen.

Conrad gestured to Jane to sit at the small desk by the phone. He brought over a plate with an assortment of crackers and a little dish of steaming dip. “Careful. It’s still hot.”

Jane tested the dip. “Wonderful! What’s in it?“

“Artichokes, beer, cream cheese, and some seasonings,“ he said, pleased. “The trick is keeping it from getting too runny. Now here’s some from the same batch that’s cooled.“

“Conrad, I think it’s even better warm than hot,“ Jane decided.

Grace, finished with her job, came and sat down. “That’s what I think, too. But Conrad’s fretting about keeping it hot.”

He shrugged. “Two to one against me. I guess I’m beaten.“

“What does Sarah think?“ Jane asked. “Oh, Sarah doesn’t like artichokes,“ he said. “She loved them when we were kids,”

Grace said with surprise.

“People change,“ he replied.

Grace started to say something, but, sensing tension, Jane changed the subject. “Mike was sure loaded down with luncheons. It’s going well?“

“Wonderfully well. Except for the raccoons,“ Grace said with a smile. “They dumped all the trash out of the barrels last night. We’re going to have to get something with locked lids.”

Jane almost mentioned someone getting into Mike’s truck, planning to make a joke about raccoons being smart enough to drive, but decided against it. Conrad had enough on his mind without worrying about neighborhood kids prowling around behind the deli.

When Jane returned home, Shelley was wrestling her hose and sprinkler around from the back yard to the front. “Are you trying to make it rain?“ Jane asked. “I know where you could get a nice little pamphlet on lawn care.“

“If that old bastard tries to give me one of his pamphlets, he’ll find it stuck up his nose in seconds,“ Shelley said, bending down and studying the dial setting on the sprinkler. She adjusted it, went back to the faucet, and turned it on. “Where have you been?”

Jane explained her trip to the deli. “Conrad sent home some dip. Come in and try it while I change my clothes.”

When she was comfortably clad in jeans and a T-shirt that said, “World’s Greatest Mom,“ she found Shelley sitting on the sofa, making dainty smacking noises with her eyes closed. “Paprika, I think,“ she said, analyzing the dip. “I don’t suppose he told you what the seasonings were.“

“I didn’t ask. Shelley, it’s a little tense there.“

“What do you mean?”

Shelley picked up the little Styrofoam carton of dip and followed Jane to the kitchen, where Jane poured them both a glass of iced tea, then nipped out the back door to pluck some mint leaves to put in it.

“It’s like Conrad and Grace are having a tug of war with Sarah,“ Jane said. “They both adore her and want what’s best, but they seem to have different ideas of what that is. Conrad treats her like a piece of porcelain that has to be protected from everything—including herself. Grace seems to be more down-to-earth and practical, wanting to let Sarah take care of herself. At least a little bit.“

“That’s too bad,“ Shelley said. “I’m on Grace’s side, but I can see how it’s awkward. Conrad is her husband, after all, and knows her best. Even Grace admitted that Sarah’s a different person whom she hardly knows anymore. Sarah might be a whole lot more fragile than Grace realizes.“

“True. And I imagine Grace has thought of that, but it’s awkward for her. It’s always awkward being a fifth wheel anyway.”

Shelley waited for Jane to go on, and when she didn’t, said, “There’s something else on your mind, too, isn’t there?“

“That obvious? Okay, this makes me feel like a real traitor, but I’ve been wondering about Grace. That nasty divorce of hers—how long ago was it?“

“I don’t know. Years and years, I imagine.”

“Before Stonecipher moved here?”

Shelley was silent for a few minutes. “I see what you mean. She might have been another client like LeAnne. I’ll have to think about this. I believe it was much longer ago than that, but then I don’t really know when Stonecipher first turned up.“

“How can we find out?“ Jane asked.

“Didn’t you say Patsy Mallett was an old friend of Grace’s? She’d know who handled her divorce.“

“You’re not thinking of just asking her outright, are you? She’d see through what you were getting at in a minute. Patsy’s no dummy.“

“Jane! Don’t you think I can be subtle?“ Shelley said with a grin.

“I merely think you’ve met your match in Patsy. But I look forward to watching—at a safe distance.”

17

Jane was thrilled to discover that Patsy Mallett lived in the messiest house in the world. It wasn’t dirty though. Clean windows, floors, curtains, no used dishes sitting out on the sink. But for sheer numbers of “things“ out and about, Patsy took the prize. There were piles of books and papers everywhere. Tidy piles, but a lot of them. Plastic bags bulged with needlework, model airplanes, electronic kits. There were a dozen different rosters on the -telephone table, half a dozen notepads. Children’s artwork, some yellowed and curling, adorned the front of the refrigerators and the walls. A stack of recipe books was feathered with notes and file cards sticking out every which way.

Patsy ushered Jane and Shelley into a huge family room with a picnic-sized table in the middle, nearly covered with other projects in various stages of completion. A clay model, sketchpads, some colored chalk, and poster-board took up most of the surface. Three sides of the rooms were windows and had glass shelving with plants everywhere. One whole large window had spectacular African violets. Another was cacti and succulents. There were bonsai trees, radishes growing in cut-down milk cartons, and something that looked like an experiment in hydroponics. A sweet-potato vine started near the kitchen door and worked its way entirely around the room.