Accessory to Murder (9 page)

Josie ate crow, with a side order of humble pie. Jane danced around her daughter's kitchen, leaving a vapor trail of stale nicotine. The centerpiece for Josie's humiliation feast was a pathetic pile of crumpled tens, fives, and ones on her kitchen table—the money for Mike's plumbing bill. Jane made it look as if each bill had been stripped from her hide.

The only way Josie could feel worse was if she ate another Greta Burger.

Her mother was gleeful. Jane's eyes were shiny bright, like Amelia's on Christmas morning. For once, Josie was glad Amelia was holed up in her room instant-messaging her friends. She didn't want her child to see her being pushed into the marriage market. Or maybe this was the marriage consignment shop, for used goods.

“I knew you'd come around,” Jane said. “Granby is the catch of the year. You'd be crazy to turn him down. You'll thank me, Josie Marcus, when you have that ring on your finger and that man in your life.”

Josie ground her teeth in silent frustration. She liked her life. If she did invite a man into it, he would be Mike, not some briefcase-toting dweeb. Josie wanted to say this and more, but she remembered the purpose of her date. She was going out with Granby for her best friend, not for her mother.

“Where did you hear about this guy?” Josie said.

“Granby's mother is a friend of Mrs. Mueller.”

Another strike against him. Mrs. Mueller was the interfering old bat who lived next door. She'd been the bane of Josie's existence since she was nine. Josie, that is. Mrs. Mueller had never been nine years old.

“I'll call him right now,” Jane said.

“Shouldn't he call me? I don't want to look desperate.”

“You can't waste any more time,” her mother said. “There are younger, fresher girls out there.”

“Women,” Josie corrected.

“Girls,” Jane said. “Young girls, still in college. Women, too. They're all younger than you.”

Josie felt like an expired carton of milk. “But, Mom—”

Jane was already punching in numbers on Josie's kitchen phone. Her tone was businesslike while she talked with Granby's secretary. When she got the great man himself, she softened her voice to a turtledove coo.

Josie squirmed with mortification.

Jane put her hand over the receiver. “He can fit you in tonight,” she said. “Otherwise, it will have to be next week.”

“Fit me in? What am I, a dental appointment? I'll go out with him next week.”

“She'll be delighted to see you tonight,” Jane said into the phone.

Josie started to protest, then realized she needed to talk to Granby now. This wasn't a real date, Josie reminded herself. This was a mission for Alyce.

“Tony's will be lovely,” Jane told Granby. “You can pick Josie up at home.”

“Mom!” Josie said. “I'm supposed to meet him at the restaurant.”

Jane put her hand over the receiver and said, “It's better this way.” Then she went back to cooing at Granby. “We're right next door to Mrs. Mueller. You know where she lives? Of course you can find it, a smart young man like you. We're the two-family flat with the white porch.”

Oh, barf, Josie thought. If the Greta Burgers hadn't turned her stomach, this conversation would.

Jane hung up in a flurry of smiling good-byes. “He'll be here at seven. It's five o'clock. I'll watch Amelia and fix her dinner. You have time to wash your hair. Run along.”

Jane shooed Josie out of her own kitchen. Josie's stomach was still rumbling like a truck convoy, but she couldn't tell if it was predate jitters or Greta Burgers.

Why was Granby taking her to Tony's tonight? It was too expensive for a first date. She hoped he didn't expect her to fall into his bed in gratitude. Why was everything from a broken toilet to a dinner date really about sex?

What could she wear to Tony's? Josie rummaged in her closet and decided on a semidaring black Ungaro she'd bought on sale at a consignment shop. She'd gotten it cheap because the lining was patched, but Granby was never going to discover that secret. Besides, when Josie wore it out of the dressing room, it had left the shop owner's chatty husband speechless. Maybe it would make Granby talk.

Josie's mom flicked on the porch light at six thirty, while Josie was shaving her legs. Josie nicked her calf, and tried to stop the bleeding with dabs of toilet paper. She wondered if she should cut her throat instead, but that was hard to do with a safety razor. Anyway, she had a daughter to think about.

At six fifty-five, she gave herself a final examination in the bedroom-door mirror. Not bad, she thought, for a thirty-one-year-old single mom.

When Josie's doorbell rang at precisely seven p.m., Josie heard her mother rush to open it. “Granby,” Jane gushed. “How nice to see you. You're right on time, too. I'll get Josie.”

Time for Mr. Awful, Josie thought. She wondered if Granby would be a nerd or a pin-striped stiff. She took a deep breath and headed down the hall.

The guy filling her living room was ridiculously handsome. He had a jutting jaw, a cleft chin, and wavy blond hair, like an old-fashioned matinee idol. His chest was broad, his waist was narrow, and his legs were long. The old theme song for
George of the Jungle
flashed through her dazzled brain. This was a hunk-a-rama. She'd definitely suffer him for Alyce. What were friends for?

Granby wore a well-cut gray suit with a light purple shirt and tie. She'd read somewhere that purple was the new blue for menswear. That was pretty over-the-top for a lawyer. Maybe Granby was a wild one after all.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Marcus,” he said to Josie's mother.

Jane practically pushed Josie and Granby out the door so they could begin their date.

A sporty gray car, polished like old silver, was parked in front of her flat.

“Nice,” Josie said.

“It's an RSX Type-S,” he said. “Two hundred ten horsepower, i-VTEC engine, seventeen-inch alloy wheels. It will do until I get my Porsche. I think the Boxster is too girlie and the 911 is too expensive, at least until I make partner. I'm considering the Cayman S. Now, that's a sweet car. Two hundred ninety-five horses and a flat-six engine. It's kicking the Boxster's ass, and it's only sixty thou.”

Only sixty thousand, Josie thought. Only about three times what I make in a year.

“That's my new camera in the glove box. Tell me what you think.”

Josie pulled out a slim silver camera. “Nice,” she said. She seemed stuck on that word, but Granby didn't notice.

“Finally went digital,” he said. “I got the Sony DSC-17. Has one hundred eighty photos and five-point-one megapixels. It was about three hundred dollars more than the Polaroid izone 300, but that one doesn't have the optical zoom. The Olympus D-630 was…”

Josie's eyes crossed. They weren't even at the restaurant yet and she didn't think she could listen to one more model number. She wanted to scream. She wanted to leap out of the moving car. She was the prisoner of a Sharper Image catalog.

“I still think the best pen is a Mark Cross,” Granby was saying. Somehow, he'd switched from cameras to pens. “What do you think?”

“Nice,” Josie said. She felt like a parrot.

“I use a Cross Townsend titanium-and-lacquer fountain pen for major contracts. The partners use Mont-blancs. Those are twice the price. I think the Cross is just as good. But if you really want to impress someone—”

Josie was desperate. She was never going to steer this conversation in the direction she wanted. It was like a runaway train. Her only hope was to derail it. “I know one of your firm's partners,” she blurted. “Jake Bohannon.”

There was a long silence. “Is he a friend of yours?” Granby's tone was carefully neutral.

“Not really,” Josie said. “I heard the cops were talking to him today.”

“How do you know that?” Granby asked, still cautious.

“How could I not?” Josie said. “The police questioned him for more than an hour. Two homicide detectives. It was the talk of the office.”

That last part was a safe guess.

“Well, since you already know, I'm not telling tales out of school.” Now Granby was eager to tattle. “They were asking about that designer who was carjacked.”

“Halley? That was a gang killing, wasn't it?” Josie said.

“That's how I heard it. Of course, I'm not one to listen at doors.”

“But a secretary did,” Josie said. “I bet she reported every word.”

“Correctomundo,” Granby said. “She said our boy Jake had been very bad. He had an affair with Halley.”

Josie's heart sank. Poor Alyce. “I thought he was married.”

“He is. I've talked with wifey a few times at company functions. Nice dull little blonde. Girls like that are meant to be martyrs.”

Josie was glad they were in a darkened car. She clenched her fists to keep from punching the lout. Just hang on, she told herself. We're almost at the restaurant. We're in downtown St. Louis.

The Arch loomed above them, an impossible arc of stainless steel. Tonight, the moonlight made it molten silver. Once upon a time, Amelia's father had flown Josie along the Mississippi on a night like this, showing her the city's startling beauty. But that was another lifetime.

“Look at the Arch,” she said. “People come from around the world to see it. We live here and forget how incredible it is.”

“Reminds me of the stainless-steel finish on the PX-5—”

Josie cut him off before he could tell her what that was. “You were talking about Jake's affair with Halley.”

Granby was eager to resume knifing a partner. He'd cheerfully eviscerate Jake to get his partnership. “It's a little more than that. But we're at the restaurant. Let's order dinner and then I'll tell you the rest.”

Josie thought Tony's decor was old-fashioned modern: soaring space, dark wood, well-placed pools of light. Waiters in tuxes hovered unobtrusively, removing plates, bringing butter, pouring water, without the diners noticing.

She sank into her chair and patted the fine linen. She deserved this after her day. Despite nine Greta Burgers—or maybe because of them—Josie was hungry, but her stomach lurched at the thought of meat. A Tony's steak and a Greta Burger probably didn't come from the same species, but it would be a while before she could stomach red meat.

“I'll have the spinach, avocado, and Roquefort salad and the Dover sole,” Josie said.

“Good choices,” Granby said. “I'll have a steak.”

The spinach and the fish were flown in fresh from England. Josie hoped both plane tickets were on Granby's bill.

“Would you care for wine?” Granby said.

“A glass,” Josie said. A gallon, she thought. A barrel. She'd need plenty of painkillers to sit through this dinner.

“See that table over there?” Granby nodded toward three silver-haired men. “Those are the senior partners at Davis-Willingham. On your left is Ardmore Sommers, of Sommers, Caruthers and Strawn. And don't turn around, but behind you is Harrison Barnel with his new wife. I don't have to tell you how important he is.” He didn't even bother with the blond wife's name. She didn't count.

More brand names, Josie thought. This was a gathering of legal eagles. Now she understood why he wanted to go to dinner here on their first date. It wasn't about her. It was about him. He wanted these bigwig lawyers to see Granby Hicks dining in the best restaurant in town. He was one of the big men. She was arm candy.

I'm not going to sit here like a Stepford wife, Josie thought. He's going to tell me what I want to know. After the salads were mixed at their table, Josie said, “We were having an absolutely fascinating conversation about Jake and Halley. Do you really think they were having an affair?”

Granby was ready to dish. Having all those hotshot lawyers around must have made him feel part of the inner circle. “I didn't actually catch Halley and Jake in bed together,” he said. “But he was at the Bradcliffe Hotel with her.”

“The pretty little hotel with the fountain, out by Westport Plaza?” Josie said.

“That's the one,” Granby said. “The firm maintains a suite there, because it's close to the airport and has teleconferencing facilities. The suite is supposed to be for business meetings, but all the partners bang their secretaries at the Bradcliffe, except Jake. Virginia, his girl, is about a hundred years old.”

Too old to be a girl, Josie thought. “Are you sure Jake took Halley there?”

“Saw them with my own eyes. They were in the lobby. Jake looked nervous when he ran into me. He was eager to get away, which I took as a sign of guilt.”

Josie was eager to get away from Granby, too, and she wasn't guilty of anything.

“Jake didn't introduce me to her, but I recognized the famous Halley. He said he was there for a conference. Yeah, right. I checked with the concierge after they got in the elevator. There was no conference.”