Accessory to Murder (21 page)

Amy reached in the bag again and set a silver shaker on the granite counter. “Cheers,” she said. “I have to go now. But remember Aunt Amy's advice: Your neighbors will crawl back once Jake is declared innocent. Oh, one more thing. Not all your friends are really your friends. Ta-ta.”

She was gone in a flurry of gin fumes. Alyce picked up the lemon and hurled it at the closed door.

“I hate her,” Alyce said. “I hate her. I hate her. Thank you for keeping me from killing her. It was touch and go there for a moment.”

“The kitchen cutlery was only a heartbeat away,” Josie said.

“What did Amy mean by saying not all my friends are my friends?”

“Who knows?” Josie said. “She's a drunk. Don't believe that
in vino veritas
stuff. Boozers are liars.”

“But was she lying about Cliff being violent? Did he knock her around when they had sex?”

“I don't know,” Josie said. “But she's the second woman who said Cliff has a violent streak. Little Joanie thought he did, too, and she's truthful.”

But was she? Josie wondered. Or was Joanie the friend who wasn't the friend?

“Does Amy always lie? Or is there a sliver of truth in her drunken malice?” Josie said. “If so, how do we find it?”

“It's not worth the search,” Alyce said, and swept the gin, the vermouth, and the silver cocktail shaker into the trash.

“So this bookstore calls and says they have an emergency,” Mike the plumber said. “Their women's john is stopped up, and they want me to fix it fast.”

He's so cute, Josie thought. She felt like a high school girl with a crush. But Mike was better than good-looking. He was sort of pettable. No, she didn't want to pet him. She wanted to…Down, girl, she told herself. The night is young and you're old enough to know better.

“I got there and the commode was blocked, all right,” Mike said. “Like somebody poured concrete down it. I used my trusty snake, but I couldn't make any headway.”

“Headway. Was that a pun?” Josie said.

“Not on purpose,” Mike said.

Josie laughed. She'd been laughing a lot since she'd polished off half of her Maplewoodie. The potent combination of rum and tequila made Long Island iced tea look like Earl Grey. The Maplewoodie was the house drink at the Maya Café. Josie thought it would be unpatriotic, as a citizen of Maplewood, to refuse one.

She'd had plenty of guacamole, salsa, chips, and crab cakes, so she wasn't really drunk. She felt good for the first time today. Her headache had disappeared. The warm, colorful restaurant and Mike's comforting presence banished the horrible pictures of Evelyn.

Josie thought her first date with Mike was going well. He actually seemed interested in her as a woman, rather than some cutie who could impress his important friends. He looked even better out of uniform, in a soft beige shirt and well-fitted jeans. And he was staring at her.

“So you weren't making any headway with the head,” Josie prompted.

“Right,” Mike said. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are?”

“I was thinking the same thing about you.” Oops. Time to lay off the Maplewoodie. “You were talking about your work.”

“Yeah, the case of the concrete commode. I took the whole thing apart. You'll never guess what was stopping it up. It was jammed in there, like someone had forced it.”

“Anything you can mention at dinner?” Josie said.

“Sure. I found a Brussels sprout, a gold chain, and a lace garter.”

“A Brussels sprout. Like a vegetable?” Josie said.

“A green uncooked sprout. It was so weird, I took a photo.”

Mike pulled out a Polaroid. It was a close-up of a bright green Brussels sprout, a white lace garter, and a fine gold chain on a dark tile floor.

“Bizarre,” Josie said. “It could be part of the decor at the Maya.”

The Maya Café, designed by Bill Christman of the City Museum, was deliciously funky. On the wall was a cross made up of old
Time
magazine covers, with icons like John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and the notorious “Is God Dead?” cover. A sign said
SISTERS OF MERCY
. Another sign was for the Dimwit Bros. painters.

“That's enough about me,” Mike said. “How was your day?”

Did he really want to know? The man didn't seem like the same species as the ultra-ambitious Granby. She wished she could tell Mike about her day, but she didn't know him well enough. She couldn't burden him with her story of finding the strangled artist. The horrible vision of Evelyn's bloated face flashed in her mind, and Josie felt suddenly sick.

“What's the matter?” Mike said. “You look pale.”

I can't tell him the truth. Not yet. I don't know him well enough to say I skipped out on a murder scene. But I can talk about Jake. Maybe he can help me. Men look at life from a different perspective.

“I'm worried about my friend Alyce Bohannon.”

“She's the pot-filler lady, right?”

Josie blushed when she thought about the afternoon she'd met Mike. She'd spent most of it with her foot in her mouth. “That's her. Alyce's husband, Jake, was arrested for the carjacking murder of Halley Hardwicke.”

“I'd been following the story on the news,” Mike said. “I didn't realize that was your friend.”

The waitress was standing over them. “Did you save room for dessert?” she asked.

“You have to try the sopaipilla,” Mike said.

“I guess I do,” Josie said.

“Another drink?” Mike asked.

“Coffee,” Josie said firmly.

While they waited for dessert, Josie told him about Jake's legal troubles.

“She's a real lady, your friend Alyce,” Mike said. “That word's gone out of style, but I mean it. We do a lot of work in that subdivision. Some of those Wood Winds women are aggressive. They practically tackle me when I walk in with my toolbox.”

Josie, who'd had a few thoughts of her own about tackling Mike, steered the conversation to a safer topic. “The women turned meek as mice when Mrs. Livermore decreed Alyce persona non grata. They followed old-lady Liverspot's lead like little yellow ducklings. They should be ashamed. Alyce helped every one of those cowards, and they deserted her at the first sign of trouble.”

“I'm not surprised,” Mike said. “Money can't buy character.”

Josie told him what she'd learned so far: the fight Joanie had overheard between Halley and her husband the night before she was murdered. Linda's information that Halley was desperate to get out of the suburbs. Amy the Slut's cryptic comment about false friends. And the dreadful scene with Renata Livermore.

“I know her,” Mike said. “The decorator ordered a bidet for the bathroom. Mrs. Livermore wouldn't have one. Said it was unchristian.”

Josie giggled. She'd never look at Mrs. Livermore the same way.

Josie told him about her talk with the rabidly ambitious Granby, although she didn't mention this was a blind date arranged by her mother. She explained how she tracked down Ramsey, the successful failed novelist.

“That's clever,” Mike said. “Where'd you get the idea?”

“From a police sting on
Cops,
” she said.

“You watch Court TV?” he said.

“I'm crazy about it,” Josie said.

“I think I'm in love,” he said.

Was he joking or serious? Josie couldn't tell. Instead, she told him about Evelyn, the bad artist with the Brooklyn-BBC accent. She didn't mention Evelyn's murder. She hadn't heard it on the news yet.

“Evelyn sounds like a fourteen-carat fake,” Mike said.

“Except he was smart enough to recognize real talent in Halley,” Josie said.

“And she repaid him by dumping him. No wonder she's dead. She has another talent. She knew how to piss people off. Are you sure the artist didn't kill her?”

“I'm positive,” Josie said. She packed a lot of conviction in those words. His death was proof of his innocence. “I haven't gotten to the best part.” Josie told Mike about the avalanche of packages and magazines on her doorstep.

“You've been through all this in the last few days?” Mike said. “Look at you, so bright-eyed and pretty. You should be dead tired. You're amazing, you know that?”

Josie was grateful the waitress showed up with their sopaipillas and coffee. It saved her from answering. There was a respectful silence while the luscious dessert was set in front of them. Josie's was fragrant with cinnamon and rich with honey and ice cream. Her much-abused gut gave a contented gurgle. She hoped Mike didn't hear it.

They were savoring the last bites before Mike said, “You've found out a lot, but how does it help Alyce's husband?”

“That's the problem. It doesn't,” Josie said. “I've talked to everyone, but learned nothing.”

“Yes, you have. You don't know what you know,” Mike said. “That's why all those packages and magazines were dumped on you—to keep you from stirring up the hornet's nest. This was more than a prank. Someone wants you to spend days on the phone, straightening this out. They want your time.”

Mike sipped his coffee. Josie liked watching him. She could imagine Mike sitting at her kitchen table. She couldn't see herself fixing him dinner, but dessert and coffee were a definite possibility.

“You need a fresh perspective,” Mike said. “That's me. Here's my take on things, and remember, I know most of the players in Wood Winds. Everyone thinks Halley's murder is about love, or at least sex. The cops say she had an affair with Jake and he killed her, right?”

“Right,” Josie said.

“I think it's really about money. Evelyn, the artist, talked about love. But that novelist guy Ramsey thought Evelyn wanted money. Not cash, but an introduction to Halley's rich friends, which amounts to the same thing. Evelyn wanted to sell his art to the big-money crowd.”

“Ramsey might have been jealous,” Josie said.

“I don't think so,” Mike said. “Evelyn and Ramsey were two of a kind: failed artists and successful spongers. Follow the money and you'll solve this.”

“What money?” Josie said.

“I'll get to that. I see another hole in your investigation.”

Josie liked that he used the
i
word. It made her aimless poking and prodding sound organized and official.

“Are you sure Jake had an affair with Halley?” Mike said.

“Alyce says he didn't, but she's his wife. What else was Jake doing in that hotel room?” Josie said.

“Talking business with the woman, like he said.”

“Oh, come on, Mike. You've seen the photos of Halley. She was gorgeous. Do you really believe nothing was going on?”

“Yeah, I do. A man can be alone with a beautiful woman and not jump her bones. We're not all animals. Everybody thinks that's all I do all day. I'd never get any work done if I screwed all the lonely housewives people think I have.

“The way I see it, Jake slipped up maybe once with the babysitter, or au pair, or whatever you call her. But there's no proof he strayed after that.”

“Except for Amy the Slut,” Josie said.

“I know Amy,” Mike said. “She comes on to every man who gets near her, but she's not as successful as she'd like you women to think. A lot of guys are turned off by Amy. Jake might have been one of them. Maybe he told her no, like I did, and she said she hooked up with him, anyway. That would get him in trouble with his wife. Amy gets more kicks out of causing trouble than she does out of sex. Who'd believe Jake was innocent?

“Let's give the man the benefit of the doubt. What if he really did have business with Halley—personal business?”

“What do you mean?” Josie said.

“Did you ask yourself how Halley was financing her operation in New York? She wasn't working for another designer or a corporation. She was starting her own company. Do you know how expensive that is? I have some idea, just from running a business here in St. Louis. She'd need hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe millions. Where would she get that kind of money? Was she independently wealthy?”

“No,” Josie said. “Halley was broke when she married Cliff, as least as I understand it. Cliff makes a big corporate salary, but it's not enough to finance a start-up in New York. Anyway, she was divorcing him.”

“There you go,” Mike said. “Halley needed money to escape St. Louis. Lots of money. Jake didn't sleep with her. He was an investor, or he was putting together a group of investors.”

“But the police found Halley's scarves tied to the bedposts in the hotel suite,” Josie said.

“So? Anyone could have tied them there. Maybe someone at the firm was trying to make Jake look bad.”

Granby, Josie thought. Would Granby slip over to the corporate suite and redecorate it before the police arrived? You bet. He'd move faster than his favorite Porsche for the chance to ruin Jake.

“You need to find out if Jake had any money to invest,” Mike said.

“You're a genius,” Josie said.

“Nope. Just good at unblocking things.”

“I could kiss you,” Josie said.

“Yes, you could,” Mike said.

And so she did.