Dying in Style (12 page)

“Can’t afford one,” Josie said.

“Jake will help,” she said.

“I can’t afford your husband.”

“Look, he won’t charge you. He does boring corporate stuff all day. He’d love to do something interesting.”

“I’m fine for now,” Josie said.

Josie took her plate to the sink. She didn’t attempt to find the dishwasher. But she did feel better. Maybe there was something to that brunch business after all.

They heard Justin fussing on the baby monitor. Alyce floated upstairs to check on him. Josie followed. Justin was a beautiful little boy. He had his father’s dark eyes and hair. It was still in soft ringlets.

“Jake wants me to get him a boy cut,” Alyce said. “He says I’ve got him looking like a sissy girl. But Justin’s hair is so pretty, I can’t bring myself to cut it yet.”

“He’s definitely got his father’s eyes and hair,” Josie said. “No doubt who his daddy is.”

Alyce seemed inordinately pleased by this compliment. “I thought so, too,” she said.

“You’re so lucky to have a nanny for Justin,” Josie said. “I can’t even afford day care. I’m dependent on Mom.”

“You’re the lucky one,” Alyce said. “Your mom wouldn’t try to steal your man.”

Josie was silent while Alyce’s words sank in. “You think Jake is having an affair with your nanny?”

“I found a used condom in her wastebasket.”

“Maybe she snuck in her boyfriend,” Josie said.

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Josie said. “What are you going to do? Have you asked him about it?”

“I’m afraid to,” Alyce said. “If I say something, my marriage could blow up in my face. I can’t divorce Jake. I have a one-year-old. I have no money. My work skills are so outdated, they’re useless. I used to be a decent systems analyst, but I haven’t worked seriously on a computer for three years. I’d have to go back to school. I can’t compete with younger, cheaper workers. Jake will take Justin and leave me with nothing. You don’t know what it’s like to have no money.”

“Actually, I do,” Josie said.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Alyce, this is terrible. You must feel so trapped. Can you go back to school and brush up your skills?”

“Jake wouldn’t let me. He wants me to be a full-time mom.”

“What about marriage counseling?” Josie said.

“Jake says there’s no problem, it’s all in my head. There’s nothing I can do.” Alyce kissed her son and nuzzled his soft skin. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say on the subject.

“I’d better get going if I want to make the Clarkson Pleasin’ Pizza by noon,” Josie said.

“I’ll keep you posted on anything I hear through the housekeeper network,” Alyce said. “They have the best information.”

Maybe my situation isn’t so bad after all, Josie thought, as she drove away. I may be a murder suspect, but I’m not serving a life sentence with an unfaithful man.

Chapter 11

“Yes, ma’am,” the young server said. “That’s a medium pepperoni Pleasin’ Pizza with extra onions, a small salad with Italian dressing on the side and a large Pleasin’ Cola, all to go.”

“That’s right,” Josie said.

The kid’s name tag said he was Matt. He blushed when he looked at Josie, and his ears turned red. They were rather large and stuck out from his buzz-cut head. A boy at Maplewood High with ears like that had been called Wing Nut—until he topped six four and joined the Marines.

Josie was sure Matt’s big ears and large bony feet were a misery now, but once he grew into them, he’d be downright handsome. Hang in there for another year, Matt, she wanted to tell him. Your world will get better soon. If he remembered the magic words, it would improve right now.

“And won’t you have an extra Pleasin’ Cola?” Matt said.

Yes! Josie thought.

“Congratulations, Matt,” Josie said. “I’m the Pleasin’ Pizza mystery shopper, and you’ve won fifty dollars in our Fifty Is Nifty campaign for remembering to ask customers to buy another Pleasin’ Cola.”

Matt’s eyes lit up like he’d won the lottery. His smile stretched across his face. His ears flapped. He was one happy kid.

“Sweet,” he said, sounding like Amelia. “How do I get the money?”

“Hold out your hand,” Josie said and planted five tens on his palm.

She wished she had a picture of Matt’s grin. In fact, she’d put that in the comments section of her report. She’d suggest the company photograph some of the Fifty Is Nifty winners. The restaurants hired such cute kids for servers.

Josie loved this part of her job. If only her mother could see her now. Josie did more than criticize people. She praised hard workers who might be overlooked by management. She gave them pats on the back, and for this promotion, fifty bucks cash.

“Here’s your pizza, salad and two Pleasin’ Colas,” Matt said. “I double-bagged the salad so the dressing container won’t leak on your car seat if it tips.”

Matt was the third Pleasin’ Pizza server she’d given cash to today, after she stopped at the ATM. Once again Josie wondered why her mom didn’t have any money in her sugar bowl. It wasn’t like Jane. But lots of things weren’t like her lately. Josie was surprised to see her mother’s hair was unpermed. Jane’s hairdresser usually kept it curled and sprayed into a tidy gray helmet. Her mother was always a neat dresser, but now Josie saw small spots on her clothes.

Was Jane depressed or worried about money? Josie thought her mother was fairly well fixed, thanks to Social Security and her bank pension. Maybe Jane had made some bad investments.

By the time Josie saw the red-checked awning of the Ballwin Pleasin’ Pizza, she’d resolved to look into her mom’s situation and make sure she was okay. If she needed help, Josie would see that she got it. Lord knows, her mother took care of her.

Josie knew when she walked up to the door of this latest Pleasin’ Pizza that she wouldn’t be giving out fifty dollars to anyone. The glass door was covered with fingerprints, an early warning sign that this restaurant wasn’t carefully managed. Inside, the floor was littered with paper napkins. There was gum on the red-and-white tile. More black marks for Josie’s report.

Josie stood at the PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign. The second hand on her watch swept around twice before the hostess seated her. The tabletop was wet and had a scattering of crumbs near the condiment basket.

Her waitress, a pert brunette, seemed to be mumbling to herself. Josie looked closer. She wasn’t mumbling. She was on the phone. Josie checked the server’s name tag: LEXIE. She had one of those dangly headsets.

“I don’t know, Tori,” Lexie the server said into her mouthpiece. “He’s so not there when you talk to him. Just a minute.”

“Can I get you anything?” she said to Josie.

The server said into her phone, “Tori, you’ll have to hold. I can’t make a decision about Mark right now. It’s too important.”

Lexie was not going through an awkward stage like Matt, the last Pleasin’ Pizza server. She was cute and she knew it. Her red-checked uniform was too tight and too short, and she’d unbuttoned two top buttons instead of the regulation one. She flipped her long brown ponytail from side to side.

“I’d like a medium sausage pizza with extra peppers,” Josie said.

“Tori! Cut it out,” Lexie said to her phone.

“What do you want again?” Lexie said to Josie.

“I want a medium sausage pizza with extra peppers,” Josie said slowly. She was enjoying this. “I want a small salad with Italian dressing on the side and a large Pleasin’ Cola, all to go.”

“Okay,” Lexie said. She was supposed to repeat the order, but she didn’t.

“Tori!” she said into the phone. “Shut up! You’re like so totally fucked.”

Nice, Josie thought. She could add profanity to her report.

“Is that all?” Lexie said to Josie.

“Yes,” Josie said. “That’s enough.”

Lexie flounced across the room, ponytail flipping, lips flapping on her phone call.

“Oh, Lexie,” Josie said, calling her back.

“Hold on, Tori,” Lexie said into her phone as she returned to Josie’s table.

“There is something else?” she said to Josie. Lexie was not happy with the interruption.

“Yes,” Josie said. “I forgot to give you this.”

She handed Lexie the “I’m sorry” card. “I’m the Pleasin’ Pizza mystery shopper. You forgot to ask me if I wanted another Pleasin’ Cola. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you fifty dollars for our Fifty Is Nifty promotion.”

Josie wasn’t sorry at all. She’d never met a server who deserved this more.

Lexie went into an instant pout. “This is like so totally unfair. I was going to ask you. You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I gave you lots of chances. You were on the phone to Tori. Better luck next time.” Josie smiled insincerely.

Josie thought she heard Lexie mutter “bitch” as she stomped off to the kitchen. When Lexie returned with Josie’s order, she threw it on the table. Outside the restaurant, Josie tossed it in the Dumpster. She suspected Lexie might have spit in her food.

Josie checked her watch. It was almost two o’clock. This was a good day after all. She got to reward the good servers and punish the bad. Her work was done and she had enough time to pick up Amelia at school. They’d split a medium pizza before she went to the school book sale. Josie would take another pizza to her mom and give the third to Stan the Man Next Door. He’d volunteered to look at her ailing air conditioner. Once again, Josie wished her mother hadn’t interfered. Stan was a good neighbor and a good friend, but he was never going to be anything else. This Thursday night date would make things awkward.

Wait a minute . . . two o’clock. She’d better check the local news and see if there was anything on the Serge and Danessa murders.

Josie flipped on the radio and heard the announcer say, “—anonymous sources say murder victim Serge Orloff was selling nuclear weapons material, osmium-187, worth millions of dollars, and there is a possible terrorist link to his murder. These same sources say his longtime companion, Danessa Celedine, was killed because of her connection to Serge Orloff.

“Police refuse to confirm or deny the story, saying it is not in the public interest to comment at this time. And here’s Jim with the stock market report.”

Josie punched the buttons for a few other stations, but there was nothing more on the murders. She didn’t care. What she’d heard on her radio was good news. Someone had leaked the Orloff nuclear arms story.

I’m safe, Josie thought. The police will have to start hunting down terrorists and leave me alone. I’ll swing over to pick up Amelia, get dressed for the book sale and play a proper mom at the Barrington School. Amelia will quit worrying about her mother the future felon.

Josie’s cell phone rang. It was her mother. Jane sounded old and quavery with worry. “Josie, those homicide detectives are here again. They want to talk to you.”

“I have to pick up Amelia, Mom.”

“I don’t think you should keep them waiting, Josie. You should come home now. What will the neighbors say—police cars parked in front of our house again? This is twice in the same day.” Jane’s voice grew more vigorous at the mention of her neighbors. Josie felt a hot slash of irritation. She wanted to say she didn’t give a rat’s rear end about the neighbors, but she restrained herself.

“Josie Marcus, you will come home right now, and you get those detectives out of my house.” It was the same voice Jane had used when Josie stayed out past curfew at age fifteen. She didn’t sound old or frail now.

“Okay, Mom,” Josie said. “Would you pick up Amelia at school, please? And relax. You’ve been watching too many cop shows. The police won’t hound a suburban mom. I haven’t done anything.”

“Josie, I don’t like this,” Jane said. “I’m really worried. They’re sitting in your living room right now, and they don’t look happy. Maybe you should get a lawyer.”

Josie nearly dropped the phone in surprise. Maplewoodians of her mother’s generation thought shrinks were for crazy people and lawyers were for guilty ones. She remembered her promise to Josh to get a lawyer, but her mother’s words hardened something in her heart.

“Mom, I can’t afford a lawyer. I don’t need one. I haven’t done anything wrong. Please pick up Amelia. I’ll come straight home.”

“I will get her. I just hope her mother won’t be in jail by the time I get that child home.” Josie had barely shut her cell phone when it rang again.

“It’s me. Alyce. I’ve got the scoop de la scoop.”

“Shoot,” Josie said. Her friend sounded really excited. Josie could see her, slate-blue eyes sparkling, blond hair nearly floating off her head. She must have more news about Serge the terrorist victim.

“It’s from Danessa’s housekeeper, so I know it’s good,” Alyce said. “You’ll never guess what Danessa was strangled with.”

“What?” Josie said. What did terrorists use? A scarf hand-woven by native virgins? A string of bullets? A garrote?

“A red snakeskin belt,” Alyce said. “It cost twenty-seven hundred dollars. Can you believe it? Snakeskin. It couldn’t be more appropriate. Sweets for the sweet. Snakes for the snakes.”

That wretched snakeskin belt, Josie thought. Is that why the detectives asked her about it before? She’d deliberately made the saleswoman dismantle that display so she could try it on. Now she was going to regret that petty power play.

She heard a loud buzzing in her ears. Her voice came out in a croak.

“Alyce,” Josie said, “my fingerprints are all over that belt.”

Chapter 12

“Don’t go home,” Alyce said. “Don’t go near those cops, Josie.”

“I can’t hide,” Josie said. “Then I’ll really look guilty. Anyway, where would I go?”

“You can stay with me,” Alyce said. “I’ll protect you.”

“Some protection. Your place is swarming with cops.”

“You’re right,” Alyce said. “I wasn’t thinking. Let me get you a lawyer. I’ll make a few phone calls. It will take me about fifteen minutes. Go sit in a coffee shop until I find someone. Then you can go together to talk with the police. It’s too dangerous alone. Promise me.”

Promise me,
Josh had said,
you won’t talk to the police again without a lawyer.
Josie had promised as he kissed her and went off to his coffee customers. Now she was breaking her promise to him.