Silence Of The Hams (3 page)

Mike stopped by to thank Jane again for the truck, then, carrying a cardboard box full of paper bags and cartons, went on his first delivery. As he went down the sidewalk, Shelley murmured, “I can’t believe it. Look who’s coming.“

“What a hell of a nerve,“ Jane agreed as Robert Stonecipher stepped in the door and glanced around critically. With his showy white hair and handsome features, he looked as if he had been designed as part of the decor. Or he would have, had he not been scowling.

“And he’s got his pet dog with him,“ Shelley added, glaring at the sour-looking old man who was right behind Stonecipher.

“Who’s that?“

“I can’t think of his name. I always want to call him Foster Brooks,“ Shelley said. “Foster Hanlon, that’s it. He’s been hopping up and down and talking ugly about the deli opening, too.“

“But they’ve lost the battle. Why would they show up for the opening? You’d think they’d be embarrassed to visit the site of their defeat. Who’s the woman with them?“ Jane asked, eyeing the newcomer. She was not especially young, but was one of those terribly “fresh“ people who always look as if they’d just stepped out of a tepid shower and a brisk rubdown with something organic that was awfully expensive and environmentally sound.

“Oh, you know her, Jane. That Emma per- son who taught the aerobics class we took. Emma Weyworth—no, Weyrich.”

Jane shuddered at the memory. In a rare fit of healthiness, Shelley had insisted that the two of them shape up and had enrolled them in the class at the community center. They lasted fifteen minutes. When the instructor called for a short break, they gathered their belongings and crept away. But Emma had seen their break for freedom and followed them to the parking lot to try to drag them back with a lot of what Jane considered highly personal and insulting remarks about how much they both needed to improve their bodies.

“It figures she’d be hanging out with Stonecipher,“ Jane said. “Health nuts, both of them.“

“I think she’s his secretary as well,“ Shelley said. “Or a paralegal or something.”

The threesome entered the house and Jane and Shelley went back to sampling and reviewing the food they’d been served.

They visited with a few other neighbors, some of whom had vaguely (and silently) opposed the deli, but had been won over by the quality of the food and the decorating. “It really doesn’t look like a business,“ one said grudgingly. “I was afraid it was going to be a real blight. But except for the sign out front, you’d think it was just a well-kept old house.

It must have cost a fortune to renovate it. I hear it was Grace Axton’s money. I don’t imagine the Bakers came back here with a pot to pee in.”

Conrad was circulating with another tray of goodies, to which Jane and Shelley shamelessly helped themselves. The deli was becoming more crowded by the minute, and they finally, reluctantly, gave up their places at the small table, leaving a humiliating pile of crumbs.

“It looks like we rubbed our food in instead of eating it,“ Jane whispered.

“Let’s peek at the kitchen before we leave,“ Shelley said, nearly tripping over a toddler in her haste to distance herself from the scene of culinary devastation.

It was a kitchen to die for. Vast white countertops, steel sinks, two brushed-chrome fronted dishwashers, and every imaginable appliance. Around the soffit hung an array of copper utensils that made Jane’s mouth water, even though she knew she’d hate having to clean them. Today the food was being served on plastic plates because of the crush, but in the future the serving dishes would be the oval green plates that were stacked in the open cabinets. The serving dishes alone represented a mind-boggling financial investment.

After admiring everything, Jane said, “I’ll meet you outside. I have to find a bathroom.”

“Just down that hallway,“ Grace Axton said, entering the kitchen and catching Jane’s words.

Jane followed Grace’s directions. While she was washing her hands, she heard a crash. By the time she’d dried her hands and disposed of the paper towel, she could hear someone screaming. She stepped out of the bathroom.

A crowd of people was descending on an open doorway along the hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen. As she neared the door, someone shoved a sobbing Sarah Baker out of the doorway and into her arms.

“Sarah! What’s wrong!”

Sarah was blubbering, “He’s dead! Oh, my God—“

“Dead? Who’s dead?“ Jane asked, fearing the answer was Conrad.

Grace Axton pushed through the crowd and grabbed at Sarah. “Honey, come away from here. Come on.”

Somebody behind her gave a push and Jane found herself, against her will, in the room where somebody was dead. It was a storage room, as bright and clean as the rest of the deli. Cardboard cartons were neatly stacked on shelving that ran clear around the room except for the doorway where she stood and another doorway on the outside wall. A large chrome rack was lying on the floor. It had held hams, which had rolled all over the floor. Lying in the midst of the hams was a facedown figure. But nobody needed to see the face to know who it was. The showy, snowy white hair could only belong to Robert Stonecipher.

3

Everybody in the hallway seemed to want in the room.

Jane wanted out.

Pushing her way gently but firmly, she struggled into the hall and through the kitchen and sales area. She found Shelley waiting outside.

“What on earth’s happening?“ Shelley said. They could hear the wail of sirens, and the people still in the deli were standing around in worried knots.

Shaken, Jane explained. “There was a big metal rack in the middle of the storage room that apparently fell over on Robert Stonecipher. It’s a madhouse in there.“

“Was he hurt?“

“I think he’s dead, but I didn’t get close enough to find out. Sarah Baker was crying and saying he was dead. I don’t know—“

“Storeroom?“

“Between the kitchen and the bathroom. I heard the crash.“

“Poor Conrad and Sarah,“ Shelley said. “Stonecipher was an obnoxious bastard, but I wouldn’t wish that on him. Still, if he had to get himself killed or injured, why did it have to be here? And today, to wreck their grand opening? As if he hadn’t already given them enough trouble on purpose.”

An ambulance pulled up in front of the deli. Shelley and Jane stepped onto the lawn so they wouldn’t be in the way of the emergency staff who leaped out and ran into the building carrying complicated equipment.

“Let’s get out of here,“ Jane said. “We can’t be any help and I hate to stand around being a gawker.”

They walked home, and Jane spent a depressing hour paying bills and tidying her small basement office. And trying very hard not to think about that sprawled figure lying half under the rack. What could have made it fall over? It looked as if it had been freestanding in the middle of the room, but surely something that large and heavy-looking doesn’t spontaneously topple over simply because somebody walks by it. Suppose it had been Mike in the room when it went over! Her heart went cold. No, she couldn’t bear to think about it.

Instead, she looked longingly at the pile of paper sitting next to her computer. For nearly a year now she’d been working on what she called her “story.“ She was afraid to call it a book for fear that such a weighty word would get in the way of her ever finishing it. And, too, if it was a book, she’d have to think about what to do with it if and when she ever finished. Instead, she puttered with the story, enjoying the adventure of spending a few hours every week with a character she’d made up and enjoyed having adventures with. It had begun when she’d taken a “Writing Your Life Story“ class with her mother the previous summer. Jane hadn’t wanted to write her own story—she only took the class to do something with her mother during her visit—so she invented Priscilla and started telling her story instead.

Now Priscilla, a woman of the eighteenth century who’d lived a long and exciting life, had become a friend, and Jane found herself wishing she could turn on the computer and spend the rest of the day with her. Instead, real life called.

Jane ran a comb through her hair, spent a few frantic moments searching for her car keys, then drove to the grade school to face the horror of the last day of school. The kids would explode from the doors in a few minutes in that state of high-pitched hysteria that made her nerves fray. In two days they’d be moping around asking what there was to do, but today they’d be wound as tight as tops at the prospect of the whole glorious summer vacation stretching before them.

Jane had forgotten to bring a book to read, so while she waited, she thought about the accident at the deli. As callous as Shelley’s comments might have sounded to an outsider, Jane agreed with them. Robert Stonecipher had meant nothing to her. He was a bully—and a pious bully at that, the worst sort. But if he had really died when the rack of hams fell on him, it would forever blot what should have been a fine, glorious day for the Bakers and Sarah’s sister, Grace. They seemed to be nice, hardworking people, and it was a pity that their grand opening should be marred by something so terrible.

There was a muffled sound of a buzzer, then the parking lot of the grade school was suddenly full of children—screaming, jumping, overwrought children. Many of them, including her son and Shelley’s, carrying paper bags full of school papers and supplies that would clutter their rooms for months and finally be discarded only when school started again in the fall. Three months, Jane thought dismally.

Summer vacation meant ear infections from swimming; fights about curfews; slumber parties in the middle of the week; ravening hordes of children eating, as a mid-afternoon snack, the one absolutely essential ingredient of the dinner she had planned and not even telling her. Summer was wet swimming suits left on beds and wasp stings.

On the other hand, summer also meant real tomatoes at roadside stands instead of the mealy imitations in the grocery store. No math papers to help with. Sleeping with the windows wide open and waking up to the sound of birds instead of the alarm clock. No hideous heating bills or snow shoveling or money spent dry cleaning sweaters. Yes, summer had its compensations.

She scooped the boys up, took them home to change clothes and have a snack, then drove them and Shelley to the first soccer practice of the season with the new coach. Their former coach had moved away and the new volunteer was a very good-looking man who introduced himself to the kids and parents as Tony Belton. Normally Shelley and Jane dropped the boys off for practice and fetched them later, but with a new coach, it was de rigueur to sit through at least one practice.

Tony Belton was thirty-ish and had soccer-player legs that looked extremely good in shorts. There was a romantic, European look about him. He had dark curly hair, black eyelashes, and startlingly light blue eyes. He was also very personable, and talked a bit about how much soccer had meant to him as a kid and the values of learning teamwork. It was the same sort of rah-rah stuff coaches always spouted, but coming from him, it seemed fresh and sincere.

“Isn’t it wonderful of him to have had this session today?“ a woman sitting next to Jane and Shelley said as Tony Belton and the boys took to the field.

“Wonderful,“ Jane said, perplexed. “But why today especially?“

“Well, his partner died just a few hours ago. I imagine he’s devastated.“

“His partner?“ Shelley asked.

“Robert Stonecipher. You know, that lawyer who’s always starting trouble.“

“He really did die?“ Jane asked.

The woman nodded. “Killed by a rack of hams that fell over on him at the deli opening. It sounds so silly.“

“I know. We were there when it happened,“ Jane said. “So Tony Belton is his law partner?”

She and Shelley exchanged a quick glance that said Tony Belton was either a very good actor, or he
wasn’t
exactly devastated by his partner’s death.

Soccer practice was mercifully short because the grade school graduation was that night. When they arrived home, Mike had his new truck in the driveway showing it off to Jane’s daughter Katie and her friend Jenny. “Way cool, Mom!“ Katie cooed.

Jane knew exactly what this meant: that Katie considered Mike’s graduation present a precedent to be met in two years when she graduated. This was something Jane had considered—but apparently not seriously enough.

“It is
not
a graduation present, Katie. It’s because Mike needed it for his job.“ But Katie’s grin at this disclaimer said it all. She’d have a delivery job, too, when the time came. Jane patted the hood of the station wagon and said, “Pull yourself together, old dear. We’re in this together for life.“ She added, “Mike, why are you here instead of working?“

“I was delivering dinner to Mrs. Williams and saw Katie in the yard. I’m off. Oh, by the way, Mom, Mrs. Baker’s in the hospital.“

“Oh, no! What happened to her?”

Mike came over to talk to her quietly without his siblings listening. “She went to pieces about that guy dying. I mean, it was awful and I’m glad I wasn’t there, but she just went bonkers and they took her away, too. Just thought you might want to know. You going to the twerp’s graduation tonight? That’s kinda dumb, a grade school graduation.“

“You didn’t think so when it was yours,“ Jane said.