Accessory to Murder (17 page)

“I'm in St. Ann, just off St. Charles Rock Road,” Ramsey said.

“Good,” Josie said. “Our courier will be there in about forty minutes. Look for a woman with black hair.” She hung up.

“Who has black hair?” Alyce asked.

“Me,” Josie said, reaching into her bag and plopping on a straight black wig. “What do you think?”

“Cher should be so lucky,” Alyce said.

“The great American novelist is hiding out by the airport,” Josie said.

It was four o'clock. The afternoon traffic was starting to thicken into a rush hour stew, but Josie pulled in front of a worn green bungalow in forty-two minutes. The screen door was ripped and the front stoop was cracked.

“This doesn't look like a carriage house in the West End,” Alyce said.

“It wouldn't be a toolshed there,” Josie said. “Ramsey screwed up big-time. No wonder he's desperate to leave town.”

She knocked on the door, and chips of paint flicked to the broken concrete.

Ramsey had used every art to preserve his fading beauty. His deep tan was fake, and so were his white teeth. His blond hair was brassy and needed a color treatment.

“Are you from the cruise line?” He smiled, and the tan cracked into a hundred lines.

“I have your papers right here.” Josie held up a fat manila envelope stuffed with blank mystery-shopper reports. “This is my associate.”

Alyce nodded.

“Come in, come in,” he said. “Let's start signing.”

The living room was bare except for a plaid couch with a nasty brown stain, a battered TV, and a set of barbells on the dusty floor.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “What do you need from me?”

“Everything you know about Halley Hardwicke,” Josie said.

Ramsey turned green under his tan. “What? What is this? You're supposed to give me the papers for my cruise.”

“Sorry. Your cruise is canceled,” Josie said. “But I'm offering you the deal of a lifetime. You talk to me about Halley, or I'll tell that poor girl's parents where you're staying.”

“You can't do that,” Ramsey said. “They'll kill me.”

“And that would be a great loss how?” Josie said.

She pulled out her cell phone. “What's it going to be, Ramsey? Lots of people are gunning for you right now. I could make them very happy. I don't think that front door would ward off a shotgun blast.”

“I'll talk, but I don't know much about Halley.”

“We'll take what we can get,” Josie said. “Spill.”

Ramsey flopped down on the stained couch. Josie and Alyce stayed standing. “I met Halley about a year and a half ago, when she was at loose ends. She didn't like living in the suburbs. She wanted to go back to New York, where she belonged. We had a few gins and grins and then I introduced her to an artist named Evelyn.”

“There were no hard feelings when you broke it off?”

“No,” Ramsey said. “As soon as she figured out that Evelyn could sponsor her for that contest, she latched on to him like he was Brad Pitt. She flattered the little faggot outrageously. I figured she had to blow him to get the sponsorship. Once she won the contest, she couldn't dump him fast enough. I don't know how she stood him as long as she did.”

Josie didn't know how Ramsey could look in the mirror without flinching, but that wasn't her business.

“Evelyn said that Halley was the love of his life,” Josie said.

Ramsey burst out laughing, a big, ugly sound that bounced around the nearly empty room. “Halley wasn't his great love. She was his great meal ticket. Evelyn expected her to introduce him to all her country-club friends and provide him with an endless supply of rich patrons. He was prepared to sell out and do representational art, even dog and cat portraits. Evelyn knew he had no talent. He thought he could ride her coattails and make major money.

“Halley wasn't going to have Evelyn prancing around her snooty friends. He was an embarrassment. She gave him the boot. Humiliated him, actually. I was there. She called him a closet queen and said if he ever came near her again, she'd have him arrested for stalking.

“Evelyn was heartbroken, all right, but it wasn't about lost love. It was about lost money. He was furious at Halley. If she'd been shot by a skinny white guy, instead of a skinny black one, I'd swear the killer was Evelyn. That's all I know. I can't believe someone like you tricked me.”

“It's another sign you're getting old,” Josie said.

Ramsey winced.

“Aren't you tired of dodging murderous daddies?” Josie said. “It's time to find a sweet old widow with lots of money and settle down, Ramsey.”

She and Alyce were out the broken door before he could answer.

“Well, that was interesting,” Alyce said, back in the car. “But I'm not sure what we got.”

“A motive,” Josie said. “Evelyn had a good reason to kill Halley.”

“Do you know Jake Bohannon?” screamed a bushy-haired man in a rumpled suit.

“What do you think of an alleged murderer living in your neighborhood?” yelled a skinny woman in a plaid blazer.

The unruly mob of reporters shouted questions as Josie's gray Honda slowly rolled through the gates of Wood Winds. One even shoved a microphone against the window. Josie ignored it and kept on driving.

Alyce was unmoving as a mannequin and pale as a mourner in a funeral procession. All the color was washed from her face. Her red wig looked like a brush fire.

Josie patted her friend's hand. “We're nearly home,” she said. “It's almost over.”

“It will never be over,” Alyce said in a dead voice. “It was worse this morning with Jake. The reporters asked awful questions. One woman said, ‘What's it like to live with a murderer?'”

“Ohmigod,” Josie said. “I can't believe she asked that. Keep the wig. At least you can get in and out of here without being recognized.”

“Whose SUV is parked in my driveway?” Alyce said. “Did a reporter get through the guards?”

A woman popped out of the driver's side with a football-sized foil-wrapped package, and Alyce gave a shaky laugh. “It's little Joanie Protzel, bringing me more food.”

Joanie waited for them to park. “I've got a nice roast chicken and some grilled vegetables,” she said. “I thought you'd be tired of cold cuts.”

“That's so sweet,” Alyce said. “Come inside.”

The energetic Joanie followed Alyce into the kitchen. She plunked the foil football on the granite island and unveiled a roast bird the size of a small turkey. “That should be enough for dinner and some nice sandwiches.”

“Thank you so much, Joanie,” Alyce said. “I didn't want to think about cooking tonight.”

She didn't? Josie had never thought she'd hear her friend say those words. Alyce adored cooking. Her life really was derailed.

“Want some coffee or a glass of wine, Joanie?” Alyce said.

“You can stay for one drink,” Josie said. It was an order. Alyce needed company after surviving the media gauntlet at the gate. She had to believe all her neighbors didn't hate her.

“I—” Joanie hesitated. “A little coffee, but I can't stay long. Did you change your hair color, Alyce? It's very striking.”

“You're too polite, Joanie,” Alyce said. “It's a wig and it looks awful, but it's a good disguise.” She pulled it off and shook out her blond hair. The floaty strands stuck straight out, thanks to static electricity. Alyce smoothed them back in place.

“Now you look like the Alyce we know,” Joanie said.

The kitchen doorbell rang. Linda Dattilo was at the door. Once again, Josie was startled by Linda's vivid red gold hair and green eyes. The unearthly combination belonged on a movie star, not a soccer mom.

“I have good news,” Linda said. “Mrs. Livermore has pulled some big strings. By tomorrow noon, we'll have No Parking signs installed along the road to Wood Winds. No more press vans and TV trucks. The reporters won't be able to get closer than two miles.”

“Thank God,” Alyce said. She gave Linda coffee
and
white wine.

“Here's the best part,” Linda said. “Old Mrs. Liverspot insisted a cop should be posted on the road for the next few days to hand out tickets. She's getting one, too.”

“A ticket?” Josie said.

“A pet cop,” Linda said.

“Let me heat up some cranberry scones,” Alyce said.

“Show them your citrus trumpet,” Josie said.

“What's that?” Linda said.

Suddenly, Alyce's kitchen was filled with laughter and lively chatter. Coffee was perking. The oven was preheating. A timer dinged. Alyce was rummaging in the refrigerator and everyone was talking at once.

Alyce had a smile on her face and color in her cheeks. Josie hadn't seen her look so relaxed since Jake's arrest.

The stairs creaked, and Josie looked up. There he was, the man who'd caused Alyce so much misery. In his pressed khakis and polo shirt, Jake looked like he was ready to play eighteen holes. The arrest hadn't taken a toll on his looks.

Jake was handsome, if you liked that kind of man, Josie thought. His thick dark hair was meticulously cut. His eyes were heavy lidded and his nose was slightly too long. Josie couldn't decide if he looked aristocratic or arrogant. Maybe the two were the same.

“Hi, ladies,” Jake said. “Am I interrupting a party? Thought I'd come down for a little coffee.”

Silence. Josie wondered if the other women were stunned by the presence of a real, live alleged murderer.

Alyce filled the awkward silence with quick introductions: “This is Joanie Protzel. She brought us those delicious deli platters. Tonight, she fixed us a whole roast chicken.”

“Roast chicken?” Jake said, and smiled. “My favorite. You're the lovely lady who's been giving us such wonderful meals. This is real comfort food, Joanie. Just what we need. I can't thank you enough.”

Joanie blushed. Jake's charm was definitely working on her.

Alyce continued the introductions. “This is Linda Dattilo. She lives in our subdivision. She and Joanie both do, actually.”

“Linda.” Jake gave her a royal nod.

“I think we've met before,” Linda said.

“Oh,” Jake said. “Of course.”

More silence. Then something seemed to click on in Jake's brain. “You're the decorator. Didn't you do the Hendersons' new house on Willow Way?”

“That's me,” Linda said.

“Clever work with that dining room,” Jake said. “That room always looked so dark until you transformed it.”

“I didn't think you'd notice,” Linda said.

“The Hendersons told everyone what a super job you did,” Jake said, sidestepping the issue.

Linda seems as wary of him as I am, Josie thought. But Joanie was definitely impressed. Now Josie could see why Alyce fell for Jake. He could be irresistible when he worked at it.

“And you know who this is,” Alyce said, taking Josie by the arm.

There was a slight pause, and Alyce prompted, “I don't have to introduce my best friend.”

“Josie, right?” he said.

“Right,” Josie said. Jake still doesn't quite remember me, she thought. Why am I wasting my time helping him?

“Alyce tells me you've been a huge help to her—and me, too. I hope when things are…resolved, I'll be able to thank you properly.”

OK, Josie decided, that speech was nearly as handsome as Jake. If he forgot my name, well, he does have a few things on his mind right now. He gets a pass this time.

Alyce was beaming, pleased her husband had made a good impression on her friends. She handed him a cup of black coffee and a buttered scone on a blue plate.

Josie's cell phone played her favorite U2 tune. “Excuse me,” she said. “This could be my mom or my daughter. I have to take this.” She moved toward the breakfast room and opened her phone.

It wasn't her family. It was Evelyn. The artist's voice was shrill with rage. “I heard what that awful Ramsey said—that I only wanted Halley because of her rich friends.”

“What?” Josie said. Why was Evelyn screaming at her? “Evelyn, what's wrong?”

“Ramsey called me, the slime. He said you'd been to visit him. He wouldn't tell me where he was or I'd tell you. If I knew how to reach that girl's parents, I'd tell them, too. He deserves to be shot.”

“Evelyn, I know where Ramsey is,” Josie said. “I found his hiding place. I tricked him and he's not happy. I don't know what he told you, but I'm sure he's just lashing out.”

“Ramsey said it was time to set the record straight about my so-called great love. He said he'd make sure everyone knew what Halley said to me when we broke up. I'll never sell my
Halley, One Through Six
if he does that. She didn't mean it. It's what lovers say when they're angry.”

“I'm sure,” Josie said. She wasn't sure at all. Halley had hurled some hurtful invective.

“I loved her,” Evelyn said. “My art is proof of my love. Everyone can see that. But I know someone who didn't love Halley. I'll tell you who killed her.”

“Tell the police, Evelyn.”

“The police won't listen to me. I'll tell you, but only in person.”

Josie sighed. The silly little man was such a drama queen. No wonder Halley had wanted rid of him. Josie was tired of Evelyn after one encounter.

“You have to come here. Right now.” Evelyn's voice climbed to a birdlike screech. His words were slurred. Josie definitely didn't want to meet a drunk.

“Evelyn, I can't come there. I have a family. I have to go home.”

“Come here right now!” he shrieked. “Maybe you're not interested, but your friend Alyce will be. How much does a murder defense cost these days? At least two hundred fifty thousand dollars, and that's if it doesn't go to trial. Once that happens, the price goes up.”

His voice turned soft and wheedling. “I can save Alyce big money, and my information will only cost her fifty thousand dollars.”

“Fifty thousand!” Josie realized she was screeching, too. She moved deeper into the breakfast room and lowered her voice. “Alyce doesn't have that kind of money.”

“She'll have to have it for the trial. She can give it to me instead of some crooked lawyer. Her husband's innocent, and I can prove it. But you have to see me tonight.”

“Evelyn, we can't come tonight. But we'll be there tomorrow. Say, ten o'clock?”

“All right. I don't like waiting, but I'll possess myself in patience. Bring your friend Alyce—and her checkbook.”

Josie hung up the phone and saw everyone staring at her: Jake, Linda, Joanie, and most of all Alyce.

“What was that about?” Alyce said.

“Nothing,” Josie said. “Just someone being overly dramatic.”

“I'd better go,” Joanie said. “My husband is due home any minute.”

“Mine, too,” Linda said.

A wail from upstairs announced that Justin was awake and demanding attention.

“My turn to check on the boy,” Jake said, and ran upstairs. Josie gave him points for dealing with a cranky kid.

The kitchen party was over. A few good-byes, and Josie was alone in Alyce's kitchen, surrounded by empty cups and crumb-dotted plates.

Her cell phone rang again. If it was Evelyn, she wasn't answering. But Josie recognized the number. It was Harry the Horrible, with two more awful assignments: Down & Dirty Discount stores and Chunk-A-Chicken.

Chunk-A-Chicken lived up to its name. It served chicken elbows and knees in greasy gravy. Josie loved most fast food, but she couldn't stomach gravy-coated gristle. Harry was still making her suffer for Saber.

“How many Chunk-A-Chickens do I have to shop?” she said.

“All fifteen locations,” Harry said.

Josie's stomach dropped like a broken elevator.

“Oh, Josie,” Harry said. “They want you to sample the fries and gravy, too.”

“You're doing this on purpose,” Josie said.

“There's no connection between these assignments and the fact that poor little Saber got fired,” Harry said.

“She did?” Josie couldn't keep the smile out of her voice. She'd accomplished something after all.

“Bite me,” Harry said.

“It can't be worse than a Chunk-A-Chicken,” Josie said, but her boss had already hung up.

Alyce came downstairs, carrying a chubby-cheeked Justin. They had a brief session of baby kissing and cooing. When Justin was installed in his high chair with some Cheerios, Alyce said, “What was going on with Evelyn?”

“Is it that obvious?” Josie said.

“That you were hiding something? It was to me.”

“Evelyn says he knows who killed Halley,” Josie said.

“Josie! Why didn't you say so sooner?” Alyce said.

Josie shrugged. “Because I don't believe him. Evelyn would have told the police if he really knew who the killer was. He wouldn't miss the free publicity. Evelyn would love to prance around on the six o'clock news, saying he caught the killer.”

“What's this about fifty thousand dollars?”

“He says if you can come up with that much money, he'll give you proof that Jake is innocent.”

“Josie! This is the break we've been looking for.”

“No, it's not,” Josie said. “Evelyn is a sponger. He knew you were willing to pay for information, and he's trying to take you for your last dime.”

“Then why did you agree to see him?”

“Because I want to talk to him about his farewell scene with Halley. Calling a man a closet queen is one strong motive for murder. Dashing his hopes for major money is another. Look at that guy. He's skinny as a boy. With the right makeup and a stocking cap, he could pass as a young African-American male. He could be our shooter.”