Accessory to Murder (20 page)

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Authors: Elaine Viets

BOOK: Accessory to Murder
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Chapter 23

Alyce stayed frozen, five feet from the rumpled bed. She refused to move closer, as if Evelyn could drag her into death's embrace.

Josie crept to the edge of the bed. It took all her nerve, but she had to make sure he was dead. As she got closer, there was no doubt. Evelyn looked like he was wearing a fright mask. His swollen face was a study in purple and red. His tongue stuck out like a gruesome slug.

Josie resisted the urge to close his popped eyes. The Halley-blue scarf around his neck was obscenely beautiful.

“He really did love her,” Alyce said in a small voice. “He couldn't live without her.”

“Evelyn didn't commit suicide,” Josie said. “He was murdered. Someone strangled him.”

“Ohmigod,” Alyce said. She stayed rooted to her spot.

“We'd better get out of here,” Josie said. “I hope no one saw us.”

“Why? A few minutes ago, you wanted to call the police.”

“That was before I knew Evelyn was murdered,” Josie said. “What are we going to tell the police?”

“The truth,” Alyce said. “We had an appointment.”

“To buy information he wouldn't give the police,” Josie said. “For more money than the average cop makes in a year.”

“We don't have to tell them that,” Alyce said. “It's not like I have the cash in a brown paper bag.”

“Oh, right,” Josie said. “No problem. We can just say nobody answered the door, so we opened it.”

“It was open,” Alyce corrected.

“And we walked into a near stranger's apartment and snooped around. Then we opened another closed door and found him murdered.”

“But we didn't kill him,” Alyce said. “He looks all stiff, like he's been dead for hours. That's rigor mortis, right?”

Josie thought Evelyn looked like a dead spider in his black turtleneck and black jeans. His beret was a black hole on the pillow. “I'm no medical examiner,” Josie said, “but for what it's worth, I'd guess he was killed last night.”

“Then we're safe,” Alyce said. “I was home with Jake last night.”

“You mean Jake, the alleged killer of Halley?”

“Jake couldn't have killed him. He was with me all evening,” Alyce said.

“Wives don't make good alibis,” Josie said. “Any witnesses to confirm that you two were home? Any neighbors stop by? Did the nanny spend the night?”

“No,” Alyce said.

“I didn't think so. By the way, that's Halley's scarf squeezing the dead man's neck.”

“Oh,” Alyce said.

“Yeah,” Josie said.

“Maybe I could get some coffee until you finished talking to the police,” Alyce said.

“The interview with the police will take hours,” Josie said. “But it will take the cops ten minutes to figure out the connection between us. Then they'll throw Jake back in jail. And maybe you, too.”

Alyce turned even paler, if that was possible. She was a haunting figure in the dim light. “Let's get out of this horrible place,” she said.

Alyce managed to float down the stairs, even in her shocked state. Josie tried not to run. She kept reminding herself that housewives were invisible. But she was afraid they were an oddity in this neighborhood. If they'd looked like drug dealers, musicians, or a couple in drag, they'd have a better chance of blending in.

Neither woman said a word until they were on the sidewalk, walking to Josie's car.

“Jake would have to be pretty stupid to kill Evelyn,” Alyce said.

But it wouldn't be the first stupid thing he's done, Josie thought. She didn't say it. She didn't have to.

They walked another block in deafening silence. If Jake killed Evelyn, he sure wouldn't tell Alyce, Josie thought. He didn't tell her a lot of things. She didn't tell him everything, either.

“Did Jake know you were talking to Evelyn this morning?” Josie said.

“No, I didn't want to raise his hopes,” Alyce said.

“Do you think Evelyn tried to call Jake last night?” Josie said.

“I don't know,” Alyce said. “I don't think the phone rang, but I was exhausted. I put Justin to bed and fell asleep about seven o'clock.”

Jake had heard Josie's conversation with Evelyn, the same as Alyce. He'd been drinking coffee in the kitchen. If he knew Halley, then he knew who Evelyn was. He could put the conversation fragments together, and realize Evelyn might have information that could save him. Jake could have called Evelyn while Alyce slept.

What if Jake went to see him? Would Jake try to strangle the information out of Evelyn? Jake had to be hard up for cash, facing a big murder trial. After he killed Evelyn, he could have ransacked the apartment, searching for the evidence, then left.

Josie felt sick, but a gallon of Maalox couldn't cure this problem. She had two impossible choices: If she didn't go to the police, she was withholding information in an investigation. If she did, she'd get her best friend's husband in deeper trouble.

Alyce and Josie made it to the car without anyone noticing them. At least, Josie didn't think so, and she'd been trained to notice signs of snooping. She'd lived next door to the one-woman neighborhood watch program, Mrs. Mueller. No curtains fluttered in these windows. No blinds were lifted by a finger. No one came out to check the mail. Josie didn't even see a postal worker on the sidewalk.

There was still time on her meter, so no parking ticket would give her away. For once, Josie was glad she drove an anonymous gray Honda. The staff of the Majestic Café might remember them, but Alyce wore a red wig and Josie looked like a lot of women.

That was her talent. Josie might have left some hairs or fibers at the crime scene, but the police couldn't trace them to her if they didn't know she was in the apartment.

“We can't leave Evelyn alone in there,” Alyce said. “Can't we give the police an anonymous tip?”

“I'll find a pay phone,” Josie said.

“Where?” Alyce said. “I don't see one nearby.”

They were back on Kingshighway, driving past hospital row, the massive medical complexes overlooking Forest Park.

“I know a place,” Josie said.

She pulled into the hospital garage, parked the car, and ran inside. Alyce followed, looking slightly dazed. Nobody noticed them. A running woman and a dazed one were ordinary sights in a hospital. A guard asked Josie and Alyce who they were seeing.

“Smith,” she said. “Maternity.”

Alyce blinked. The guard checked the computer, wrote out two passes, and said, “Take the elevator to the fifth floor.”

“What were you thinking?” Alyce said.

“There's always a Smith in a big hospital,” Josie said.

She found a bank of pay phones in an alcove near the soda machines. There was no one around. She covered the phone receiver with a Kleenex, which didn't look unusual in a germ-ridden hospital, and dialed 911. She hoped it would disguise her voice.

Josie recited Evelyn's address, then said, “There's a dead man on the second floor.”

She hung up.

“What are we going to do now?” Alyce said when they were back in Josie's car.

“You're going home,” Josie said. “Your car has been in your driveway all morning for the whole neighborhood to see. If the police ask where you were, give them a slice of your best chocolate cheesecake and play Mrs. Domestic.

“I'm going mystery-shopping. And you're right. There's no point in torturing my gut with Chunk-A-Chicken today. I'll shop Down & Dirty Discount stores instead.”

“Eeww,” Alyce said.

“They're depressing,” Josie said. “But at least I don't have to eat there.”

“I suppose,” Alyce said. “But what a day.”

“It will get better. My daughter is spending Saturday at her friend Emma's house. I'll swing by, pick her up, then take her to the zoo for an hour and buy a pretzel.”

“This is some day when the best thing you have to look forward to is a zoo pretzel,” Alyce said.

“Oh, there's more,” Josie said. “After the zoo, I'll drop Amelia off at my mother's flat and go on my date with Mike the plumber.”

“That's tonight? I want a full report,” Alyce said.

“I never kiss and tell.” Josie pulled into Alyce's driveway. “We're here.”

“Come in and have a cup of coffee,” Alyce said.

“What about Jake?” Josie said.

“He's with his attorney this morning. Justin is with the nanny.”

Once inside, Alyce pulled off the red wig and stashed it in the closet, then patted her blond hair into place. Now that she was safely away from Evelyn's apartment, Josie's knees felt weak. Evelyn had played a dangerous game, and now he was dead. She kept seeing his purple face and the Halley-blue scarf. What had that sad, silly little man done? Evelyn didn't deserve his horrible death. Josie realized her hands were shaking.

“Can you try some food now?” Alyce said. “Maybe a quick cheese omelet?”

“I'd better,” Josie said. “I'm a little wobbly and I don't think it's the wine.”

While Alyce whipped up the omelet and warmed some muffins, Josie called her mother. “Three more deliveries this morning,” Jane said. “Six packages from the Pottery Barn, three from Williams-Sonoma, and more cashmere sweaters from Neiman Marcus. Oh, another Harry & David fruit basket. I sent them all back.”

“Thanks, Mom. Sounds like the deliveries are slacking off.”

“I certainly hope so,” Jane said. “We'll know more by this afternoon.”

Josie snapped her phone shut as Alyce's doorbell rang. Alyce peeked out the side window.

“Ohmigod, it's Amy the Slut,” she said in a whisper. “I can't face her today.”

“Yes, you can,” Josie said. “You want a witness that you were home, in case the police ask where you were this morning.”

“How can Amy be a witness?” Alyce asked. “She's never sober.”

“She's better than nothing.”

Amy the Slut breezed in with a gust of alcohol fumes and a gift bag. Wood Winds' most notorious wife wore a black catsuit and a wide red leather belt. A dark fur coat was thrown over her shoulders. Her black boots had four-inch heels. All Amy needed was a whip to complete the ensemble.

Amy plopped down at the granite island and helped herself to a warm muffin.

“Raisin bran,” she said. “How like you, Alyce. So wholesome.” Amy's skin was miraculously free of broken veins and puffiness. Her vices hadn't caught up to her yet. “I want to thank you for taking the pressure off me. You've made a bigger scandal than I ever could.”

Alyce stood frozen at the stove, her spatula in midair.

“Your omelet is burning,” Josie said.

“Yes,” Alyce said, and let it smoke in the hot pan.

“I'm so grateful,” Amy said. “It's such a hoot listening to all the good women in our neighborhood trashing you. Oh, now, don't look so stricken. As soon as little Jakey is declared innocent, they'll all come back and kiss your ass again.”

“You think Jake is innocent?” Alyce clung to that pathetic hope in the midst of Amy's insults.

Josie got up and turned off the stove, then dumped the scorched omelet on a plate. It wouldn't be too bad if she picked off the burned parts.

“Of course,” Amy said. She waved the muffin in the air. “That boy just doesn't have what it takes, no offense. He's no stone killer. I've known one or two of them. They have, shall we say, a hardness that Jake lacks.”

Alyce started to say something, but Josie kicked her shin. She stayed by the stove, as if she could shield Alyce from Amy's acid.

“What about Cliff?” Josie said. If anyone knew the men of Wood Winds, it was Amy.

“What about him?” Amy said. Hatred flashed in her eyes. She didn't like to be distracted from tormenting Alyce, but she enjoyed flaunting her illicit knowledge.

“Do you think he killed his wife?” Josie said.

“Ah, Cliffee,” Amy said. “The strong silent type who takes it and takes it and then one day doesn't. He could have. Cliffee likes to play rough. I'd be happy to show the cops the bruises Cliffee gave me. Especially that cute homicide detective, Evanovich.

“Oh, don't look so shocked, Alyce. Cliffee wasn't getting any at home with Halley running off to New York, so he outsourced his lovin'—and his anger. I was just kinky enough to like it, for a while. Then he bored me. But did he actually do the deed and kill Halley? We'll never know as long as the police keep focusing on the wrong man, will we?

“Well, enough about me. I brought you a little something. This is the real comfort food.”

Amy opened the gift bag and pulled out a fifth of Bombay Sapphire gin, vermouth, a lemon, and a jar of stuffed olives. “One can only eat so much corned beef in a crisis. We've watched Joanie load you down with those deli trays. Really. It's so…ethnic. I thought you were ready for some WASP soul food.”

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