Moving Can Be Murder (25 page)

“He won’t freak out when all the house
offers come pouring in,” Nancy said. “He’ll be absolutely,
positively, overjoyed.

“Now, to the important stuff.

“What are we all going to wear?”

Chapter 26

I highly recommend the 30-day diet. I’m on
it,

and so far I’ve lost 15 days.

To my surprise, Jim didn’t freak out about
the preview party. The possible media exposure didn’t bother him
either.

What he did complain about, loudly, was
having to wear a tux.

“Good lord, Carol, a black tie event in our
empty house? Why does it have to be so formal? I never heard of
anything so ridiculous. I don’t even know where my tux is. Probably
packed away in some box in the storage unit.”

What this translated to, of course, was, “I
don’t think my old tux will fit me, and I don’t want to try it on
and find out.”

Mindful of my number one crime on Jim’s
Honey-Don’t List, “Thou shalt not interrupt thy personal beloved
under any circumstances (even though he’s carrying on like a
lunatic),” I let Jim rant and rave for a few minutes without a
response. I knew he’d eventually calm down. And do things my
way.

“We’re the host and hostess of this event,”
I finally said in my most reasonable tone of voice. Technically not
true, since the preview party was a benefit for Sally’s Place. Hmm.
Did that mean Sister Rose was going to show up in a snazzy,
sequined off-the-shoulder dress and greet people at our door?

Perish the thought.

“I hope we don’t have to pay to get into our
own house,” Jim said.

“Of course we don’t have to pay, silly,” I
replied, and made a mental note to confirm that with Nancy.

“Maria’s Trattoria is doing the catering, so
you know the food will be good,” I continued. When in doubt, pull
out the food card. It works on Jim every time.

“I’m not shelling out money for a new tux,”
Jim repeated. “But I do have some good news for you on the
financial front.”

He reached in his pocket, pulled out an
envelope, and waved it in my face. “I got back our entire deposit
from Eden’s Grove. We’re well rid of that place and all the snobs
who live there.”

I snatched the envelope from his hand.

“This is going right back into the bank,” I
said. “But I’m taking out a little money to buy you that tux. And
no arguments.

“You have to look your best for the preview
party, especially if some of our almost-neighbors from Eden’s Grove
show up. We’ve gotta show them what they’re missing.

“And I have to lose ten pounds before
Saturday night.”

I wasn’t totally serious, of course. Nobody
can lose weight that fast. So what if I was no longer a size 6? I
mean, size 8. Oh, well. Might as well tell the truth. I’m now what
I call a size 10 ½ on a good day, 10 ¾ on a bad day if I hold my
breath. Time and gravity march on.

I rationalized that I needed a new dress for
Saturday night’s bash. Jim also needed a new tuxedo. And I had to
get cracking on research for my article on domestic violence.

What better place to combine all these tasks
than Sally’s Closet? If I got really lucky, I wouldn’t have to go
anywhere else.

Shopping is my form of therapy. Nancy gets
her high from exercising. I get mine from scoring a major bargain.
In fact, I get positively giddy when I anticipate what I might
find.

So I was in extra good spirits when I pushed
open the door of the thrift shop, even though the Lilly Pulitzer
dress I’d coveted during my last visit was no longer in the window.
“You snooze, you lose,” I told myself. The next time I saw
something here that I really wanted, I was going to snap it up,
whether it fit or not. Heck, Jenny could always wear it if my
bargain purchase was too small for me.

Sister Rose wasn’t in her place at the
cashier’s desk. I confess that, surprisingly enough, I was
disappointed not to see her. After our exchange of girlish secrets,
I knew she was someone I could trust. And like. After my shopping
binge, I decided I’d try to see her at her official office, Sally’s
Place.

Two young women, deep in conversation, came
through the swinging doors at the back of the thrift shop, dressed
in the customary lavender aprons. They were pushing a cart piled
high with new donations.

Bonanza! A chance to score bargains before
anyone else could get to them.

When they saw me, conversation immediately
ceased. Hmm.

“Hi, Carol.” It was my neighbor Liz.

I gave her a bright smile, and turned toward
the other young woman.

She was the most adorable little thing I’d
ever seen, with the face of an angel framed by a halo of dark hair.
Tiny in stature, probably not even five feet tall. She looked like
a stiff wind would blow her right over, that’s how thin she
was.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met, Mrs.
Andrews,” she said. “I’m Alyssa Cartwright, Jack’s wife.”

“I guess I should say, I’m Jack’s
widow.”

Her eyes filled up. “That’s going to take
some getting used to.”

Jeez. What could I say? No etiquette book
I’d read ever covered a situation like this.

“Mrs. Andrews, in spite of what my mother
may have told you, I want you to know that I don’t hold you and
your husband responsible for Jack’s death,” Alyssa said. “It must
have been a terrible accident. The family may never know the cause,
but it could have happened anywhere.”

She wiped away some runaway tears from her
face. “Jack and I were both looking forward to moving into your
beautiful house and raising our children there. Excuse me. I have
to go in the back and mark some more clothes now.”

There was an awkward silence. Liz and I just
stood there, looking at each other.

Finally, I recovered my wits enough to say,
“I feel terrible. I never realized I’d see Jack’s widow here. She
took me by such surprise, I couldn’t even express my
condolences.

“I feel terrible,” I repeated.

“There was no way for you to know that
Alyssa volunteers here once a week,” Liz said. “We didn’t expect
her in today, but she said that it was important for her to keep as
normal a schedule as possible, especially for the children’s
sake.

“I guess you’re here to buy something to
wear to Jack’s memorial service on Saturday.”

“The memorial is Saturday? I didn’t know.
That’s the same day as the preview party for the show house.” There
are obviously many things you don’t know, I chided myself.

“I don’t think the two events will be at the
same time, Carol,” said Liz.

“I didn’t expect they would be,” I shot
back. I wanted to add that I wasn’t that stupid. I didn’t, of
course.

“Does that mean the police have completed
their investigation into the accident?” I asked, emphasizing the
word “accident.” If that was true, it sounded like good news for
Mary Alice.

“I have no idea,” Liz replied. “All I know
is what Alyssa told me when she came in this morning. I’m sure the
family just wants to get the whole ordeal over with.”

“I can see why,” I said. Me too.

“I have to confess, Liz, that what I really
came in for this morning was to see if I could find a fancy dress
for the show house preview party. And maybe a tuxedo for my
husband. I thought it was a good idea to buy something here,
because all the money raised from the thrift shop goes to support
Sally’s Place, just like the show house proceeds will.

“You know that our home was chosen to be the
show house for the Sally’s Place fundraiser, right?”

Liz’s face brightened. “Sister Rose was just
talking about that. She was praising you to high heavens, saying
how generous it was of you and your husband to allow your home to
be used.”

Huh? Sister was singing my praises?

“I hear that tickets are already sold out
for this weekend’s preview party,” Liz said as she rummaged through
the dress racks searching for the perfect dress for me to wear. “I
shouldn’t have waited to buy tickets. It’s too late now.”

She looked pointedly at me, and I got the
message loud and clear.

“I’m sure we can squeeze in two more
people,” I said with the confidence of someone who has no clue what
she’s talking about. “Leave it to me.”

I realized it was time for me to beat a
hasty retreat, in case Alyssa came back. The encounter with her had
shaken me up, and I was sure it’d been just as upsetting for
her.

“I’d like to see Sister Rose today,” I said
to Liz. “But I’m not sure where her office is. And whether I need
an appointment.”

“Her office is next door to our shop,” Liz
said. “If you go outside and stand in front of our building, look
to your immediate right. There’s a red brick two-story building
with a discreet sign that says ‘Sally’s Place.’ She likes to pop
back and forth between her office and the thrift shop and keep an
eye on all of us. When I first started volunteering here, it used
to creep me out that she’d suddenly show up with no warning. I
never even heard her coming.”

That brought back a high school memory of
Nancy and me (Claire and Mary Alice were the goody-goodies in those
days and never were involved in these hijinks) sneaking out of
school to have a quick cigarette. Sister Rose always found us, no
matter where we were hiding. We never figured out how she did it.
Her sudden, soundless appearances made all of us finally quit the
smoking habit. Which, in hindsight of course, was a good thing.

“Do you want to talk to her about the show
house?”

“I’m doing an investigative story on
domestic violence in Fairport,” I said, and watched Liz’s eye
widen. “I thought Sister would be a good person to start with.”

“For that, you won’t need an appointment,”
said Liz. “Sister’s been on a personal crusade to bring attention
to this issue for years.

“Wouldn’t it be something if you turn out to
be the one who makes that happen?”

Yes, indeedy, that certainly would be
something.

Chapter 27

It’s great to have a friend to grow old
with. You go first.

I rang the doorbell, then tried the door for
Sally’s Place. It was locked up tight. Hmm. I wondered if it was
closed for the day.

“You doofus,” I told myself. “This is a
program for domestic violence victims. Of course the door would be
locked, for safety reasons.”

I started to knock but the door flew open
before my knuckles made contact and revealed, not Sister Rose, but
Marcia Fischer from Superior Interiors.

“I was on the phone when you rang the bell,”
she said. “Sorry to keep you waiting outside. Sister’ll have my
head if she hears about that. I’m supposed to keep an eagle eye on
the front door through the closed circuit television monitor, but
sometimes I have to take a phone call.”