Moving Can Be Murder (12 page)

Was it my imagination, or had Paul
emphasized the word “yet”?

“You’ll have to come down to the station in
the morning and sign a formal statement, Mrs. Andrews. I need to
get over to the crime scene now.”

The crime scene, a.k.a. my beautiful living
room. Oh, God.

Jim glared at Paul. “I resent that
implication. There’s no way of knowing that this is a crime. It
could be just an unfortunate accident.”

As we were leaving, I remembered my manners
and thanked Bill and Phyllis profusely for their help. I knew they
were glad to see us go. But I suspected the thrill of being
involved in a possible crime, however vicariously, would make them
the center of a neighborhood drama for a long time to come.

Jim put his arm around my shoulder and
guided me out of the room. “Come on, Carol, let’s go home.”

I looked at him blankly. “Go home, Jim?
Where the heck is that?”

Chapter 13

Some days are a complete waste of
makeup.

“Oh my God, Carol. This is terrible.”
Nancy’s voice was even shriller than usual. “Why didn’t you call
me? I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news this morning. This
has never happened to me before.”

“Gee, what a coincidence,” I answered. “It’s
never happened to me before either.”

Nancy was instantly contrite. “Sweetie, I’m
sorry. I’m not thinking clearly. It must have been horrible for
you, finding Jack Cartwright like that. But what in the world were
you thinking, to go back to the house all alone at that time of
night?”

I started to cry. If there was one thing I
didn’t need right now, it was someone else interrogating me about
my actions the previous night.

“I shouldn’t have to defend myself to you,
of all people,” I said. “First the police, then Jim, and now you,
all asking me the same question. I wanted to say goodbye to my
house. Alone. You know how hard it’s been for me to let go of
it.”

I reached across the Formica kitchen counter
and grabbed a napkin to mop my leaking eyes.

“And besides,” I continued, “even if I
hadn’t gone back to the house, Jack would still be dead. I just
wouldn’t have had the bad luck to find him. That’s what I’ve been
trying to explain to Jim. Over and over and over. It was an
unfortunate coincidence. But he doesn’t get it.”

I started to cry all over again. Lucy and
Ethel nuzzled my legs, showing that they, at least, were on my
side.

“I’m sure Jim gets it, Carol,” Nancy said.
“He’s just scared for you, and probably feels terrible about what
you went through last night. And he can’t do anything to fix it.
You know how men are. They have a lot of trouble giving emotional
support to the people they love. But that doesn’t mean they don’t
care.”

“You may be right,” I conceded. “He was
terrific last night when that twerpy detective, Paul Wheeler, was
putting the thumb screws to me. Just my luck that he was on duty
and heard the nine-one-one call.

“Neither one of us got much sleep,” I
continued. “Between the shock of finding Jack Cartwright, and
sleeping in a strange bed, I feel like I didn’t close my eyes for
more than ten minutes. We let Lucy and Ethel climb into bed with
us, and I guess we must have finally fallen asleep.”

“Where’s Jim now?” Nancy asked. “Is he still
in bed?”

“You must be kidding,” I said. “Don’t you
remember how small this place is? If he was still here, I wouldn’t
be able to talk without him interrupting me.”

I felt better already. Sharing the trauma of
last night with my best friend had put things into perspective for
me. The authorities were dealing with Jack Cartwright’s tragic
death. I had other things on my mind.

“I know Jim’s going to ask about this when
he comes back,” I said. “What happens now about the house sale? Is
it off? Is the closing just postponed? How do we find out what’s
happening? God, I feel so selfish asking about this under the
circumstances.”

“I think we can safely assume that the
closing is off, at least for today,” Nancy said, with more than a
touch of sarcasm in her voice. “But buyers can be very funny. It’s
possible that Alyssa Cartwright may decide to go ahead with the
purchase after all, once the shock of Jack’s death wears off. We
can’t assume anything.”

I bit my lip. She was right. But I hated the
idea of just sitting around doing nothing.

“How about this?” Nancy suggested. “I’ll
contact the Cartwrights’

Realtor and see what she knows. I’ll also
check with Tim Casey, the Dream Homes attorney. He may have some
idea about how and when to proceed. He was going to handle your
house closing anyway, so he’s familiar with the deal.”

“Just not this part of it,” I retorted. “I
doubt if he’s ever had to deal with anything like this before.”

“You never know. I’ll be back in touch as
soon as I know something.” She clicked off.

I was starting to get a headache. Whether it
was from lack of sleep, finding Jack Cartwright, or caffeine
deprivation didn’t matter. I wasn’t about to go back to bed and
risk dreaming about my late night adventure.

Maybe My Beloved had gone out for coffee and
(hopefully) was going to bring back a gallon or two of high test to
share with me. But I couldn’t wait that long.

“All right, girls,” I said to Lucy and
Ethel, who were still snoozing on the bed. “We have to unpack a box
and hope our coffee pot is in it. Keep your paws crossed.”

They telegraphed me a look which clearly
said, Forget the coffee pot. Find the dog food and feed us
breakfast.

“Sorry, kids, but humans come first this
morning. And don’t get too used to sleeping on the bed. Last night
was an exception.”

I squinted at the pile of boxes. I thought
I’d been so organized, but I couldn’t find the one that was marked
“Kitchen.”

Rats.

I did see the one marked “Dogs,” however. “I
guess that proves who are more important around here,” I said. As
if there was ever any doubt.

I rummaged around for a water bowl and paper
plates. The dogs came tearing into the kitchen and danced around my
legs. See, they said. We knew we’d get fed first.

“Not so fast, chums” I said. “You have to go
out first. And on leashes. We’re not home any more.”

I opened the door with my two canines in tow
and found two thermoses of coffee on the front steps, one labeled
“regular” and the other “decaf.” Ah, heaven! There was a note from
My Beloved taped to a bag of muffins.

“I thought you needed to start the day with
an extra bonus, so I made an early morning drive to The Paperback
Café and picked up some goodies for you. I’m going to drive around
for a while and try to sort out what’s happened. Be back soon.
Love, J.”

“Well, isn’t this the nicest thing?” I asked
Lucy and Ethel as they sniffed around the small patch of grass in
front of the apartment trying to find an appropriate spot to do
their doggy business. “What a great guy. I feel better already.

“Let’s go inside and get breakfast for all
of us. You get served first, as soon as I pour myself a full cup of
regular. No diluting it with decaf this morning. I need all the
caffeine I can get.”

I tossed each dog a Milk Bone, then rummaged
in a drawer looking for a can opener. It seemed so strange not to
know where everything was. “You’re going to have to be patient with
me,” I said. “We’re not home any more, and I have to hunt for
things.”

“How about if we turn on the television
while we eat, girls? If I can find the remote control, that
is.”

The furnished apartment came equipped with
only the bare essentials, and cable television was not one of them.
My Beloved hadn’t wanted to spring for the extra connection cost –
no surprise. “It makes no sense, Carol,” he’d said. “We’re only
going to be here a short time. We’ll have to settle for
over-the-air channels for a little while.”

I wondered how he’d like it when he figured
out that he wasn’t going to be able to get his beloved Red Sox
games on NESN. I smiled at the thought.

After fruitlessly surfing through all the
channels, I settled for the local station from Fairport Community
College. No choice. It was the only one I could get without snow.
Not that I cared. I just wanted to hear another human voice.

I was only half concentrating until I heard
the reporter say, “I’m standing in front of where local police are
saying a body was discovered last night. The empty house is for
sale, and it looks like people are dying to buy it.” He paused to
give his unseen audience a chance to appreciate his comedic
genius.

“This is the home’s owner,” the reporter
went on, turning to the person beside him. “Do you have any
comment, Mr. Andrews?’

I only had a millisecond to react before the
reporter stuck a microphone in the face of My Beloved. And Jenny
was standing right beside him.

Chapter 14

I may not be a housewife, but I sure am
desperate.

“Mom, you should have called me!”

Immediately after the television interview,
Jenny had driven to our temporary digs and was now letting me have
it with both barrels.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jenny so angry
at me. Except for the time when I accidentally threw out her
treasured U2 hoodie. How was I to know it’d been tossed to her by
Bono himself during a once-in-a-lifetime concert? She did forgive
me, but it took two weeks before our relationship was back to
normal.

This situation could take longer to
heal.

Don’t say what you were really thinking,
Carol --that you weren’t sure where she was at that time of night.
Jenny had made it clear that part of her life was not something she
intended to share with her parents, and Jim and I made every effort
to respect her privacy.

“It was so late, sweetie,” I said in my
defense. “And I didn’t want to upset you.” Remembering the horrible
scene in my beautiful house made me start to tremble. “It was
awful, finding Jack Cartwright dead.

“Your father has been on my case about it,
too. What I really need from everyone is a little sympathy and
support. He keeps asking me over and over why I went back to the
house in the middle of the night. He can’t get it through his thick
skull that I just wanted to say goodbye to our house. Alone. You
understand, don’t you honey?”

I started to cry. Again. I hate myself when
I act that way, but I couldn’t stand to have Jenny mad at me,
too.

Lucy and Ethel, always in tune with the
Andrews family’s emotional temperature, came over and gave my hand
wet kisses. Then they looked at Jenny with what was – I swear – a
reproachful expression. It was crystal clear to me what they were
communicating: How can you be so angry at your mother, who is the
most wonderful human being on earth? Especially when she’s had such
a major shock?

Jenny reached out her hands. Both dogs came
to her side and gave her a tentative sniff. And waited.

“OK, you guys,” Jenny said, laughing. “I can
tell whose side you’re on. And that you want Mom and me to make up.
Our own personal mediators.”

“The hand that wields the can opener rules
the house,” I said. “Barack Obama could probably use Lucy and Ethel
to settle the Middle-East conflict.”

“He has Bo now, remember?” said Jenny. “I’ve
heard that Portuguese water dogs are better at negotiating than
English cockers.”

She gave me a quick hug. “Sorry I got a
little carried away, Mom. I was just so upset when I found out what
happened last night. It must have been awful for you. Do you feel
up to talking about it? I promise not to interrupt. Much. I am your
daughter, after all, and you know neither one of us can keep quiet
for very long.”

I had to laugh. “Sad, but true. I’ve also
been told that I take twenty minutes to tell a story when it could
be done in less than five. Oh, well.”