An Uplifting Murder (19 page)

“I will. I’m real good at cleaning Harry’s litter box,” Amelia said. “Just ask Mom.”

Josie said nothing. She wouldn’t admit she nagged Amelia into litter box duty. She’d walk Stuart herself, if she had to.

Jane was wavering. “Well, he is a cute little thing.” Stuart wagged his tail with extra enthusiasm. “But he looks like he needs a lot of grooming. That’s expensive.”

“I’ll throw in a year’s worth of grooming at our clinic,” Ted said.

“Please, Grandma,”Amelia begged.“Can’t we keep him?”

Stuart sat up and begged, too. That did it. “Okay, we’ll keep him. On trial. But that animal is
not
sleeping in my flat on my furniture. I’ll fix him a basket in the basement laundry room.”

“It’s cold down there,” Amelia said.

“He can have a pillow in the basket,” Jane added. “And a blanket.”

Amelia looked as big-eyed as the dog. Jane caved. “I’ll put his bed by the furnace so he’ll be nice and warm.”

“Yay!” Amelia said. “Let’s go down now, Grandma. I’ll help you fix it.”

Amelia hurried down the basement steps. Her grandmother followed at a slower pace. Stuart trotted behind them.

When the trio was out of sight, Josie collapsed on the couch. “That was exhausting,” she said.

“I knew your mother would say yes,” Ted said. “She’s a generous woman.”

“You gave her free food, vet care, and grooming for a year. Wouldn’t it have been easier to pay Stuart’s owner to keep him?” Josie asked.

“His owner wanted to abandon that sweet dog. He didn’t appreciate him. Stuart is better off with your mother.”

“I need your help,” Josie said, seriously. “I want to ask you about the man who was at Desiree Lingerie the day of the murder. Something was going on there, but I’m not sure what it was.”

“Tell me what you remember,” Ted said. “It helps to relax.”

Josie snuggled against his flannel shirt, breathing in his manly scent of woodsmoke and hot coffee. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the morning at Desiree Lingerie. “Cody John Wayne came into the shop to pick up his wife’s bra. He looked scared.”

“Lingerie shops frighten most men,” Ted said.

“I know men can be shy, but it was more than that,” Josie said. “There was some sort of tension. The late, not-so-great Frankie was there. I think she was taunting him, but I can’t figure out how. She handed Cody a pair of extra-large panty hose from a rack. He said his wife wore a small size. She said the panty hose were for him. Frankie mentioned Cody’s son, Tyler, and said heroes must run in the family.”

“Cody and his son are heroes?” Ted asked.

“I don’t know about Tyler, but Cody has the medals to prove it,” Josie said. “He’s the security guard who saved a young couple from a carjacking ten years ago. Cody had served in the Gulf War and came home unscathed, then got shot in the leg while working in his hometown.”

“I remember that story,” Ted said.

“Cody’s wife sent him to pick up a bra that had been altered. It wasn’t ready. Laura asked him to come back an hour later. Cody ran out of that shop like terrorists were after him. Frankie was up to something, but I don’t know what.”

“Could be he was a cross-dresser and bought his underwear there,” Ted said.

“I know he bought something from Laura in secret, but she won’t say what. Edith, one of her friends, saw Cody in the store once and he was very uneasy—and Edith didn’t say anything to him.”

“Maybe she imagined that?”

“Edith is a nurse and good observer,” Josie said. “I don’t know if Cody gets his kicks from wearing women’s underwear. I tracked him to his job today and tried to check. I didn’t see the outline of a bra under his uniform.”

“You checked a man for bra straps?” Ted said. “You’re adorable.” He kissed her ear.

“I wasn’t being cute,” Josie said. “I wanted to know. I didn’t think to look for panty lines in his slacks.”

“Maybe his shirt material was too thick to show bra straps,” Ted said. “Maybe he doesn’t wear the underwear to work.”

“Maybe he’s not a cross-dresser after all,” Josie said. “Is there another reason why Frankie would hand a man panty hose? She made a big show of it. She wanted an audience.”

“Cody was in the Gulf War, huh?” Ted asked. “I knew two guys who wore panty hose over there. Both asked their wives to send them in their ‘care packages’ from home. They wore L’eggs control tops, if I remember right.”

“You’re kidding,” Josie said. “Panty hose in the desert? Even I don’t wear them, especially not in the summer. They’re too hot in the St. Louis humidity.”

“Humidity wasn’t a problem in the desert,” Ted said. “But nasty, disease-carrying sand flies were. Some soldiers wore the panty hose to protect them from sand fly bites. Others wore panty hose as protection from the cold. Desert temperatures can drop to near freezing at night. My friends said they liked panty hose because they were lighter and easier to carry than long johns. These men didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. They were battle-scarred veterans. Could be Cody kept wearing panty hose once he got home and worked as a security guard. It gets cold walking rounds at night. In the St. Louis summer, the mosquitoes would eat him alive.”

“Why wouldn’t he wear men’s long underwear?” Josie asked.

“Panty hose keep your feet warm,” Ted said. “They don’t stop at the ankle, like most long johns I’ve seen. Don’t bulk up your clothes, either, so you can wear them under your uniform. Put a couple pairs of socks on over the panty hose and a man can work outside in comfort.”

“I can’t picture our troops in panty hose,” Josie said.

“Not everyone wore panty hose,” Ted said. “Just some. The others denied it and were angry at the mention of soldiers wearing them. The subject launched more than one bar fight. This Frankie was a nurse, right?”

Josie nodded. She felt so comfortable in the crook of Ted’s arm she didn’t want to move.

“Maybe she cut the panty hose off him when he got shot on duty,” Ted said.

“Would Cody kill Frankie if she spilled that information?” Josie asked.

“Depends on how secure a man he is,” Ted said. “His wife had to know he wore them. She was probably the only female whose opinion he cared about.”

“I don’t think Cody worries about his manhood. He doesn’t brag or swagger. He worked some lousy jobs to feed his family. He faced two armed carjackers and saved a young couple.”

“Sounds like my definition of a real man,” Ted said. “I’m no psychologist, but I’d guess that information wasn’t worth killing Frankie.”

Josie sighed. “I’m getting nowhere. Laura will never get out of jail.”

Chapter 20

“Mom?” Amelia appeared in Josie’s bedroom door, a pale ghost on a winter night.

Josie struggled out of a sound sleep. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you sick?”

“Stuart Little is crying in the basement,” Amelia said. “Listen. He’s lonely.”

Josie heard a thin howl rise up from the depths of the basement. “Didn’t Grandma put him in his basket with a blanket and pillow?”

“We tucked him in and left Stuart food and water. Grandma put his basket near the furnace so he’d be warm, but not so close it could catch on fire.”

“Then he’s fine.” Josie put her head back on her warm pillow.

“But what if he’s not, Mom? What if he’s sick?”

“He’s just lonely,” Josie said. “He’ll be okay. Go back to sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

Amelia padded back to her room. Josie settled into her pillow and pulled the covers around her, hoping to fall back asleep. Now she could hear the dog whimpering. What if he was sick? What if he woke up her mother and Jane sent him back to Ted? She’d better get up.

The floor was cold as an ice-skating rink. Josie buried her feet in warm slippers, pulled on a fleece robe, and dragged herself downstairs. The furnace pilot light revealed Stuart burrowed into his warm basket, whining. He stopped and wagged a greeting.

“What’s your problem?” she asked as she picked up the dog.

Stuart snuggled in her arms and looked at her with melting brown eyes. “You are not going upstairs tonight,” she said, stifling a yawn. “You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with you a few moments until you fall asleep.”

She carried Stuart to the old overstuffed chair her mother kept next to the dryer, and gently rocked the dog. As soon as he fell asleep, she’d go back to bed. It should only take a moment. He was quiet already.

“Josie Marcus! Why are you sleeping in the basement?” Jane’s voice was like a slap on the head.

“Huh? What time is it?” Josie sat up in the chair. Stuart had sneaked back into his basket sometime last night. Now he was sitting under his blanket, looking innocently curious.

“It’s six thirty,” Jane said. “How long have you been down here? Aren’t you cold?”

Josie was chilly and stiff from sleeping in the butt-sprung chair. Jane was somewhere under all those winter clothes. She could make out her mother’s eyes between the hairy muffler wrapped around her face and her squashed knit hat.

“Hi, Mom. I heard a noise and went downstairs to investigate,” Josie said. “I sat down a minute and must have fallen asleep.” She was afraid to rat out Stuart Little. He was still on probation. “Should I walk Stuart before I get Amelia up for school?”

“No, I’ll do it,” Jane said. “I need an invigorating walk.” She held up a red leash, another gift from Ted.

“Walkies, Stuart?”

The dog yapped. Jane attached the leash to Stuart’s collar and the two of them raced up the stairs. Josie followed, cold and creaky. She needed coffee.

Josie watched her mother step briskly toward the sidewalk, the shih tzu charging ahead on his leash. Jane took the route away from Mrs. Mueller’s home. Josie wondered how the old biddy would take the news that a dog was living next to her precious lawn.

Josie returned to the kitchen and found Amelia making toast and pouring herself a glass of milk. Harry sat at her feet, looking hopefully at the milk. He rarely left Amelia’s side.

“Did Stuart sleep well after you checked on him, Mom?”

“Like a baby,” Josie said.

“I got up early so I can walk the dog before school.” Amelia carefully spread grape jelly on her toast so all four corners were covered, then took a huge bite.

“Grandma already beat you,” Josie said. “She’s out walking Stuart now.”

“Does that mean Grandma will keep him for good?” Amelia asked.

“I hope so. But we’d better take this one day at a time. Speaking of time, now that you’re up early, you have time to clean Harry’s litter box.”

“But, Mom—” Amelia began.

“Unless you want me to tell your grandmother how often I remind you to rake Harry’s box.”

Ah, blackmail, Josie thought. What family could survive without it?

“Come on, Harry,” Amelia said. She dropped her glass and plate in the sink, and sulked off to her chore. The striped cat trotted behind his friend.

The drive to school that morning was silent. Josie was tired from sitting up with the dog. Amelia was unhappy she had to clean the cat box. Too bad, Josie thought. You promised you’d do anything to have Harry. At least the silence avoided a fight.

Josie returned to an equally silent house when her phone rang. She kicked off her boots and caught the phone on the fourth ring. It was Harry the Horrible, her boss.

“Wanna go to a movie?” he asked.

“Is this a date?” Josie said.

“Of course not,” Harry said.