An Uplifting Murder (32 page)

“Josie?” Ted said. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve hardly touched your dinner.”

She looked down at her plate. She’d taken two bites and then rearranged the ingredients.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m tired and preoccupied. I’d like to go to bed. Alone.”

Ted looked stricken. Amelia seemed ready to burst into tears. Jane had a wounded look.

Terrific, Josie thought. Now I’ve hurt everyone.

“I wasn’t implying,” Ted began.

“Of course you weren’t,” Josie said. “We’re all glad you’re here to protect Amelia. We need you. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It’s hard to eat with my foot in my mouth.”

She fixed on a smile, then kissed her mother and her daughter. “Remember, Amelia, if you need anything tonight, just yell. Ted and I will run right upstairs. Do you have everything for school tomorrow?”

“Packed and ready to go, Mom. I’ve fed Harry dinner, too. Will you take care of his breakfast?”

“I promise. Ted, I’ll see you downstairs.” She gave him a quick, sexless, in-front-of-her-family kiss. “Sleep well. And thanks for putting up with me, all of you. I’m going to turn in.”

Undressed and in bed, Josie couldn’t sleep. Rosa, Trish, or Victoria? Trish, Victoria, or Rosa? The names chased one another inside her head like cartoon cats and mice. She heard Ted come down the stairs to her flat. The water came on in Amelia’s bathroom while he showered. A final soft click, then Ted went into Amelia’s room.

Harry padded down the hall, meowing sadly for his friend. He came in to see Josie.

“Hi, guy,” she said to the cat. “You miss her, too, don’t you? Tonight you’ll have to settle for second-best. Let’s put our heads together and find the killer.”

She scratched Harry’s big, warm ears until the cat fell asleep. Josie was still awake, her mind still turning over the same three names. Which was the woman in the black-and-white scarf?

Then, suddenly, the picture came together.

Josie knew who the killer was. Everything made sense. All she needed now was a motive and she knew where to get it.

She got out of bed and switched on her computer.

Chapter 34

Josie typed “Victoria Garbull”—the name of her neighborhood shoplifter—along with the woman’s street address in her computer’s search bar. That produced a “0 matches” message.

Rats. Josie hadn’t expected that. She was sure this information would be an easy find. Victoria told Josie and Alyce that her last name was Garbull, and her mother, Justine, was recuperating in a nursing home. Alyce had called the home on her cell phone and confirmed that Mrs. Justine Garbull was a resident there. Maybe Josie had spelled Victoria’s last name wrong.

Josie couldn’t risk going back to Victoria’s house and checking her mailbox—or her mail. Not with chatty One Buck Chuck watching every person who went up on Victoria’s porch.

A cross-directory service popped up on Josie’s computer screen, offering to find Victoria’s last name for a fee. Josie decided to use that option as a last resort.

Instead, she typed in “Victoria” and “Maplewood.” That produced strings of news stories about women who lived in Maplewood, New Jersey, and Maplewood, Minnesota, as well as her own town of Maplewood, Missouri. Josie read sad stories about Victorias who’d died in car crashes and “after a long illness.” Two were murder victims and one unfortunate woman hanged herself.

Josie knew her Victoria was definitely alive. She believed in the not-too-distant past, her Maplewood Victoria had had something life-threatening happen to her.

She refined her search terms for the third time: “Victoria,” “Maplewood, Mo.,” “Holy Redeemer Hospital.”

There it was! The fourth news story said MAPLEWOOD WOMAN INJURED IN HIT-AND-RUN ACCIDENT. No mistaking the photo of Victoria with that eye-catching blond hair. She stared from the news story with sultry, hooded eyes. This was definitely Josie’s shoplifter neighbor.

Josie felt triumphant as she read: “Victoria Eva Malliet, age twenty-six, was hit by a black SUV while crossing Manchester Road three p.m. Wednesday,” the story said.

Malliet? That wasn’t the name Victoria gave Josie and Alyce yesterday. She said she was Victoria Garbull. Did the newspaper get her name wrong?

Josie kept reading. “Ms. Malliet was taken by ambulance to nearby Holy Redeemer Hospital, where sources say she remains in serious condition with head injuries, a broken arm, and a dislocated shoulder.”

Ouch, Josie thought.

“A witness reported that the SUV driver ran a stoplight, hit Ms. Malliet, and continued driving east on Manchester. Police found the vehicle abandoned in a no-parking zone on North Market Street near Jefferson Avenue. Both the SUV and its plates had been stolen.”

A tip hotline asked for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the driver.

Josie tried a fourth search. The hit-and-run driver was never brought to justice, as best she could find. There was no correction on Victoria’s last name. Further searches using Victoria’s complete name and address produced no information about Victoria’s shoplifting. She’d managed to stay off the police radar. So far.

Josie checked the accident date again. The story was three years old. Frankie had been working at the hospital during that time. Had she been on duty the afternoon Victoria was brought to the ER? Josie couldn’t prove it. But she knew Frankie had a penchant for poking around in high-profile hospital cases, such as Cody’s shooting injury.

Did Frankie know about Victoria’s secret source of income? That information wouldn’t stay hidden in the fish-bowl world of a hospital. Victoria had been brought to the hospital seriously injured. If she’d slipped an expensive watch or bracelet into her pocket or had clothes with the tags still on them stuffed in her purse, Frankie could easily leap to the same conclusion Josie had. The nurse would let Victoria know she knew, slyly tormenting her patient during a long hospital stay.

Victoria would want to get rid of the problematic Frankie, just like she was trying to get rid of Josie. Josie knew Victoria had lied about her real name. She wasn’t just a shoplifter. She was also a liar.

Victoria had succeeded in murdering her tormentor, Josie was sure. The woman wearing the black-and-white scarf in the mall video was simply an ordinary shopper who needed a restroom. Victoria, pretending to be disabled, had rolled into the bathroom in her wheelchair and waited until the scarf woman left. Then she’d strangled Frankie, robbed her dead body, and disappeared with Alyce and Josie’s help. The police still hadn’t found her.

But Josie had. She shivered. She heard a noise. A soft rhythmic sound. Was someone scratching at Amelia’s window?

She rushed to Amelia’s room. Ted was lying in her daughter’s bed, but he wasn’t asleep. He sat up as soon as he saw her figure in the doorway. “Josie, what’s wrong?”

“I heard a noise. A soft, steady noise like scratching or something.”

Josie and Ted ran to Amelia’s window and looked out. A cold moon revealed the snowy lawn with its V of footprints—V for Victoria. The footprints looked like purple pools. No lights were on in nearby houses. No cars drove down the silent street. Even Mrs. Mueller wasn’t watching.

“No one there,” Ted said.

Josie was suddenly aware that he was wearing only a white T-shirt and blue boxers. His hair was adorably tousled. She had on only a nightgown and a robe.

This is no time to be distracted, Josie told herself. “I still hear the sound. Listen!”

They both listened. Under the furnace clanks and house creaks was a softer
shush
ing sound with a slight wheeze. The thing was alive.

“It’s coming from your room,” Ted whispered. “I think I know what it is. Keep quiet.”

Softly, swiftly, they crept back to Josie’s bedroom. Harry was sprawled on his back in her bed, paws out, snoring.

“I didn’t realize the cat snored,” she said. “He usually sleeps with Amelia.”

Harry jumped up, staring at them with big, round eyes.

“It’s okay, old man, go back to sleep,” Ted said. He scratched the cat’s back until Harry put his head down and closed his eyes.

Then Ted put his arms around Josie, who realized just how thin her nightclothes were. Ted felt good. Too good. And hard. Reluctantly, she slid away from him.

“I can’t, Ted. Not here. Not tonight. My mother and daughter are right upstairs and sound travels in this house.”

“I’m sorry, Josie,” he said. “You’re just so beautiful. Did I say how much I like your new haircut? You feel so soft and smell so nice.”

“You do, too,” Josie said. “I mean, you smell nice. You don’t feel soft. You feel—” She stopped and felt a fiery blush race from her neck to her face. “We can’t be distracted. We have to protect Amelia.”

“I woke up as soon as you walked into the room,” Ted said. “You’ve been working.”

The pile of printouts sat next to her computer like an accusation.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Josie said. “I know who made those footprints on my lawn. She killed Frankie, too.”

“Let me put on a robe, and we’ll talk about this,” he said. He checked her bedside alarm. “It’s only four in the morning. I’m wide-awake and hungry.”

“Maybe an early breakfast will help us catch a couple more hours of sleep,” Josie said.

She brewed coffee and made toast. Ted scrambled eggs. She liked sharing these familiar domestic tasks with a man. Her doubts about her relationship with Ted were lifting. He was easy to be with. She remembered reading somewhere that men reached their peak at age thirty-five. Ted certainly had.

Your daughter is your first priority, she told herself, and dragged her thoughts away from a connubial future. Over coffee, eggs, and toast, Josie told Ted about the lying Victoria Garbull (or Malliet—or whatever her name was), her parties selling shoplifted clothes, and Josie and Alyce’s surprise visit to her home.

“Basically, we busted her and put her out of business,” Josie said. “We promised not to tell the police.”

“Think she believes you will keep your promise?” Ted asked.

“Not if Frankie found out how Victoria really makes her living. I think she killed the blackmailing nurse.”

“How did Frankie know Victoria was shoplifting?” Ted asked.

“Three years ago, Victoria was badly hurt in a hit-and-run accident. She was taken to Holy Redeemer Hospital. Frankie was a nurse there at that time, and she had a talent for ferreting out people’s secrets. I believe she found out Victoria was light-fingered. Frankie didn’t need any special detecting skills. I figured it out, too.”

“You discount how smart you are,” Ted said. He stacked their empty plates and loaded them in the dishwasher.

Amazing, Josie thought. A man who doesn’t expect to be waited on. “Victoria lied about her last name to me—twice,” she said. “She killed Frankie. I don’t have much sympathy for my late classmate. Frankie brought on her own death. That woman liked to torment people once she learned their secrets.”

“It’s time to blame Victoria,” Ted said. “We should tell Officer Doris Ann Norris what you found.”

“Then what? It’s no crime to lie about her name to me. We have no proof that Victoria killed Frankie. I doubt if Officer Norris could get a search warrant just because I saw Victoria’s shoplifted clothes. Even if she did, Victoria has had time to get rid of the stolen goods.”

“I’ll go see Victoria,” Ted said. “She has this household on edge.”

“And tell her what? That your girlfriend thinks she’s a killer? It won’t work. Victoria has enough nerve for two crooks. It’s been honed by her shoplifting.”

They’d cleaned the kitchen. Josie poured them more coffee while Ted folded his bedding and piled it in the armchair. She sat down next to him on the couch and rested her feet on the coffee table.