Accessory to Murder (14 page)

“I'm sorry.” Alyce wiped her tear-glazed eyes on a deli napkin.

This was a major breach of Alyce etiquette. Also, a useless one. Alyce succeeded only in smearing her eye-liner. Tears streaked her cheeks and splotched her blouse. Alyce had had a serious crying storm.

“I hope you're not apologizing for crying,” Josie said. “I'd be screaming and tearing out my hair. I'm just sorry you have to go through this. How can I help? What do you want to do?”

“Scream and tear out my hair.” Alyce's attempt at a smile tore Josie's heart.

“Sounds like a plan,” Josie said. “Then you can crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head, or drink margaritas until you pass out.”

“Can I do both?” Alyce asked. “Look at Joanie's deli platter. I've destroyed it.”

“No way,” Josie said. “You mangled two slices of beef. I crippled the carrots. Everything else is fine. I'll help you wrap it up.”

“Joanie was so nice to bring it over,” Alyce said. “I have marvelous neighbors. I couldn't imagine living here if I didn't get along with everyone. Well, almost everyone. Amy the Slut doesn't count.”

“Your neighbors should like you,” Josie said. “You help everyone. You work hard for this subdivision.”

“It's my way of paying forward,” Alyce said. “I know Jake's situation looks bad right now, but my neighbors understand. They know Jake couldn't possibly hurt anyone. I haven't had one nosy phone call. People here respect our privacy. We take care of one another in Wood Winds. I wish the rest of the world was as thoughtful.”

“Yeah. There's a zillion reporters at the subdivision gates,” Josie said. “Do you want to get away from here? You can wear one of my mystery-shopper wigs as a disguise.”

“No, thanks,” Alyce said. “I can't face that dog pack even in a wig. Wood Winds' security called me. They're trying to chase away the reporters, but it's hopeless. When they get rid of one, ten more return.”

They're hot for this story, Josie thought, and it will only get worse. Halley's murder was
Cinderella
gone wrong: An ordinary housewife became a brilliant success and then a pathetic victim. Jake was the handsome prince who destroyed her, while poor Alyce sat at home like a drudge.

“I'll make my famous margaritas and we can relax,” Josie said.

“I shouldn't stagger hungover into Jake's hearing tomorrow,” Alyce said. “I'd feel better doing something. We can start our investigation by talking to my neighbors. That way we won't have to leave the subdivision.”

Investigation, Josie thought. A grand name for a glorified kaffeeklatsch. Still, visiting a few neighbors wouldn't do any harm. Alyce was better off surrounded by friends instead of the hostile media horde at the gates.

“What are we trying to find out?” Josie said.

“More about Halley,” Alyce said. “I lived down the street from the woman, but I know so little about her. According to her best friend, Linda, Halley changed about fifteen months ago. That's when she did the ballroom in Halley blue for the annual dance. It was the talk of Wood Winds.”

“I bet they raved over it,” Josie said.

“No,” Alyce said “Her design was overpowering. The dramatic decorations made people nervous. Remember, this crowd is happy with freesias on the table and covers on the chairs. They complained that Halley turned our dance into an ad for herself. I thought it looked fabulous.”

“How did Halley feel?” Josie said. “Was she upset by Wood Winds' rejection?”

“I have no idea. But there's someone who does know: the dance-committee chair, Renata Upton Livermore. She can tell you everything about everyone in Wood Winds.”

“Have I met Renata?” Josie asked.

“You'd remember if you did,” Alyce said. “We call her Renata Liverspot. She's our very own grande dame. Renata is a wealthy widow in her seventies. She believes she rules Wood Winds society, and we humor her. Renata has wonderful white hair she wears in a Grace Kelly French roll. She's the only woman I know who can carry off a tiara and a lorgnette.

“If she had her way, she'd be reincarnated as Mrs. Vanderbilt and restart the Four Hundred. We had a hard time convincing her that every resident of Wood Winds had to be invited to the annual dance. She only wanted the ‘right people.'”

“She sounds like an awful old battle-ax,” Josie said.

“I adore her,” Alyce said. “She's from another time, but she really is grand. She gave a lovely tea for my birthday. She served blueberry scones with clotted cream and tea in porcelain cups. Renata is a hoot. You'll get a kick out of her.”

Josie wasn't sure about that, but she kept quiet.

“After we see Renata, we'll visit her cochair, Betty. She's another charmer. It will be fun, Josie. I need a good chat with my friends.”

“Then let's start,” Josie said. “Call and set up the appointments.”

“Oh, we don't need to call,” Alyce said. “I'm in and out of their houses all day long, thanks to the committee. Last week, I spent four days addressing invitations in Renata's dining room. She wouldn't allow computer labels for our big event. They had to be hand addressed in blue-black ink.”

“Should we walk to her house?” Josie said.

“Proper suburban women never walk anywhere unless they have a dog with them,” Alyce said. “They run only if there's a fire or they're wearing exercise clothes. Otherwise, we are required to drive. A lady goes calling in her carriage.”

They drove past the mélange of architecture that made up Wood Winds—Tudor palaces, Italian villas, French châteaus. The queen of Wood Winds society lived in a re-created Victorian mansion on the subdivision's highest hill.

“Renata likes to look down on people,” Josie said as she trudged up the steep stone steps.

Alyce managed her floaty walk even on those stairs. “Josie, be nice. You of all people should appreciate her eccentricity.”

“You're right. It isn't everyone who builds a brand-new haunted house,” Josie said. “What is this architecture: early Addams family?”

“Gothic Revival,” Alyce said. “Did you see the gingerbread scrollwork? She brought in wood-carvers from Germany. The inside is amazing: dark wood, stained glass, wrought-iron chandeliers. There's a fountain in the foyer, a gazebo in the garden, and two wine cellars.”

The massive front door could have guarded a mausoleum. A red stained-glass window stared out of it like a bloody eye. A leathery-winged stone gargoyle leered over the door.

The whole place creeped Josie out. It was cheerful as a four-day funeral.

“Are the bats and cobwebs specially imported?” Josie said.

“Stop,” Alyce said. “Don't you dare make me giggle.” She put on her serious grown-up face and rang the doorbell.

Josie expected the front door to creak open and reveal an ancient butler in a morning coat. Instead, they saw a smiling Hispanic maid in a white polyester uniform. Her smile seemed to slip when she saw Alyce, but the porch was so dark, Josie wasn't sure.

“Hi, Carmelita,” Alyce said. “May I speak to Mrs. Livermore?” She started to step into the foyer, but the maid deftly blocked her entrance.

“I'll ask Mrs. Livermore if she's in.” The maid had morphed into a pit bull in polyester. Definitely no smile, Josie thought.

“It's me, Carmelita.” Alyce looked puzzled.

“Please wait,” Carmelita said, and shut the door on them.

“I don't know what's got into Carmelita,” Alyce said. “She should have invited us inside to wait. Of course Mrs. Livermore is at home. That's her car in the driveway. Liz's SUV is parked behind it and Jessica's Mercedes is across the street. They must be having a meeting, but then I should be invited, too. I guess they didn't want to bother me.”

Josie felt cold, and it wasn't from the sharp wind. She shivered and stared at the carved-wood flounces and filigree until the maid cracked open the front door. Josie saw a slice of frightened face.

“Mrs. Livermore is not at home.” Carmelita said the words in a rush and started to shut the door.

Alyce still didn't get it. “Of course, she's home,” she said.

“No. Not home.” The maid's accent grew stronger, along with her fear.

Josie tried to shield Alyce from the blow she knew was coming. “We should go,” she said, tugging at Alyce's coat sleeve.

Alyce was oblivious. “Is something wrong, Carmelita?”

Suddenly, the heavy door was flung back by a woman with wrinkled, papery skin and spun-cotton hair. She was small and thin, but there was nothing frail about her. Her back was straight and her mouth was hard. Renata Upton Livermore was a hanging judge in a beige twinset.

“I thought you could take a discreet hint, but now I will have to be direct, Mrs. Bohannon.” She made Alyce's name sound like a curse. “I don't wish to see you here again. I will expect you to have the grace to resign from my committee.”

Alyce went rigid with shock. “Why?”

“I don't wish to associate with the wife of a murderer,” Renata said.

Josie was afraid Alyce would faint, but she stood her ground. “Jake isn't guilty,” she said.

Josie could see the effort those three words cost Alyce. She was proud of her friend.

“Of course he is,” Mrs. Livermore said. “The police said so. Your husband paid Halley's killer. He gave him the murder weapon. He brought reporters to our gates.”

In Renata Livermore's eyes, these three sins were equal. “We have a killer living in Wood Winds.” Her eyes snapped sparks. “It's a disgrace. What will it do to property values? I can't believe you would show your face in public, Alyce Bohannon. I am not at home to you. Ever.”

Mrs. Livermore shut the door firmly, and Josie heard the final insult, the
snick
of the lock. Alyce stood on the porch, too stunned to move. Josie dragged her down the stairs.

“Come on,” Josie said. “How can you stand that old bat?”

“I'm sure it's a misunderstanding,” Alyce said.

She still doesn't get it, Josie thought. Alyce was an outcast now.

“Let's go see Betty,” Alyce said. “Mrs. Livermore belongs to another generation, but Betty is our age. We've spent too many afternoons together at the club pool. I cared for her baby when she was in the hospital. She'll understand.”

“Is it a good idea to see her right now?” Josie didn't think Alyce could take more rejection today. She'd need time to understand she'd been banished from Wood Winds society.

“Betty is my friend,” Alyce said as they pulled into the circular drive of a pinkish semi-Spanish palace. It looked positively cheerful after the Livermore house of horrors. Josie peeked in the front window and caught a glimpse of marble tile, crystal chandeliers, and a sweeping staircase.

Alyce rang Betty's doorbell, but no one answered. A shiny blue SUV was parked in the drive.

“Is that Betty's?” Josie asked.

“Yes,” Alyce said.

“Does she have another car?”

“Just her husband's Lexus. But Jerry should be at work.”

Josie thought she saw the curtains shift slightly in an upstairs window. “Let's go home,” she said.

But Alyce kept ringing the doorbell, while the fierce wind burned her delicate skin a raw red and twisted her corn-silk hair into hopeless tangles. Her desperation was painful to watch. The doorbell echoed madly across the marble floors. Josie was sure she heard soft footsteps on the staircase. But no one answered the door.

Finally, Josie took Alyce by the arm and steered her to the SUV. Alyce didn't resist.

“Let's go back to your house,” Josie said. “We need to rethink our investigation. Why don't you let me drive? You look a little shook.”

“I'm fine,” Alyce said, but her pale face said she was devastated. “I don't understand, Josie. Betty and Renata are my friends.”

“No, they're not,” Josie said. “Your friends stand by you when you're in trouble.”

“Well, they're my neighbors. They know me. They know Jake. Betty had too many eggnogs and gave him a sloppy kiss at the Christmas party. Now he's a killer and she won't come to the door to talk to me. I was good enough to watch her baby for a whole week.”

“They're just two jerks in a big subdivision,” Josie said. “I'm sure your other neighbors don't feel that way. We'll have some fresh coffee and play with the baby and—”

Alyce slammed on the brakes and stopped dead in the street outside her house. She gave a single scream. It was a terrible sound, as if someone had plunged a knife into her heart.

“What is it? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Alyce pointed to her Tudor mansion with the mullioned windows and the half-timber garage. She was so upset, she couldn't talk.

“My God,” Josie said.