Moving Can Be Murder (29 page)

“Stop being so grumpy. At least you don’t
have to wear a tux, because I didn’t have time to find you one.
It’s a good thing you saved your navy suit from going into storage.
You look very nice.”

Jim tightened his lips, which I chose to
interpret as a smile.

“And we got our deposit money back from
Eden’s Grove, so we’re not destitute any more. Homeless, yes.
Destitute, no.”

I was determined to look on the bright side,
despite everything. And My Beloved wasn’t making it easy.

“Oh, look. Phyllis and Bill are waving at
us. It looks like they want us to park in their driveway,” I
said.

Jim slammed on the brakes, almost causing
the car behind us to smash into our rear bumper. “I wish you’d
noticed that before, Carol. You could have caused an accident.”

Jeez. This was going to be a rotten night if
My Beloved continued in his present, miserable mood.

Fortunately, when he got out of our car and
headed toward our (former) neighbors, he had a smile on his
face.

“Isn’t this thrilling?” Phyllis said, giving
us both a hug. “Bill and I decided to wait till you two arrived
before going over to the party. The police didn’t remove the yellow
scene of the crime tape until late yesterday afternoon. I wonder if
they’re going to allow guests to go into the living room, where you
found Jack Cartwright’s body.”

Good grief. I shot Phyllis a look to see if
she was serious. Unfortunately, she was. In fact, she was
positively quivering with excitement.

“It’s going to be quite a night,” I said.
“Just look at the line of people waiting to get into our
house.”

I spotted Nancy in our driveway, talking to
what appeared to be a reporter for the local television station.
She caught sight of us and motioned us around the side of the house
to our kitchen door.

“Follow me,” I said. “Nancy wants us to go
in the kitchen way, probably to avoid the crush at the front door.
And the press.”

Phyllis looked disappointed, probably hoping
to get another five minutes of fame through an interview with the
local paparazzi. “Bill and I will go in the front way, Carol. We
don’t mind standing in line for a few minutes. You and Jim go
ahead.”

Humph.

The inside of our house was chaos. There
were people everywhere. It was a good thing all our furniture was
in storage. “We never had this many bodies packed into the house
before,” I said to Jim as we fought our way to one of the bars,
which was set up in what had been our family room. “I hope the fire
marshal doesn’t shut the party down because there are too many
people in the house.”

“At least all the bodies are alive,” said My
Beloved. He squinted at the couple who had just pushed their way in
front of us in their haste to get to the booze. “Excuse me. I hope
we weren’t in your way.”

The couple ignored him.

“Who are all these people anyway?”

“I guess they’re supporters of Sally’s
Place,” I said. “At this rate, the program is going to make a
bundle on the show house.”

“Just goes to show you that crime sometimes
pays,” said My Beloved.

I shot him a look. “Not funny, Jim.
Especially since Detective Paul made it clear this afternoon that
he still wants to talk to Mary Alice.” And me. I didn’t add that,
though.

“Look, there’s Jenny. She’s talking to Mary
Alice, and someone I don’t recognize. For a second I thought it was
Claire, but the hair color’s wrong. And she’s about twenty-five
pounds thinner. It’s probably just wishful thinking on my
part.”

Jenny waved us over. “Isn’t this something?
There sure are more people here tonight than there were at my Sweet
Sixteen party.” She gave us both a kiss.

“Where’s Mark?” I asked, always the nosy
mother. Jenny pointed toward the line at another bar. Which used to
be my kitchen counter a short time ago. From the length of the
line, it looked like Mark would be waiting a while.

“Mary Alice,” I said, “you look fabulous in
that navy dress. Very dramatic. Is it new?”

“I just got it. And you’ll never guess
where,”

“I bet you got it at Sally’s Closet,” I said
with a laugh. “It’s my new favorite boutique, too. Gotta support
the cause.”

“Aren’t you going to welcome me home?” asked
the third member of the group, a stunning redhead. She threw her
arms around me and gave me a big hug.

Good grief. It was Claire.

“My God,” I said. “I can’t believe it’s you.
You look fabulous. What happened to you in Florida?”

I clapped my hands over my mouth, realizing
how that came out. “I don’t mean to imply that you ever looked bad,
Claire. But now, you look like…”

“A hottie,” said My Beloved, giving Claire a
smooch on her cheek. “Larry better keep an eye on you.”

The lawyer-in-question was working his way
through the crowd toward us, holding two drinks aloft. When Larry
reached our small group, he handed off a white wine spritzer to
Claire and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Nice of you and Jim to throw this big
shindig to welcome us back,” he said. “How do you like my new
trophy wife? Isn’t she something?”

I had so many questions I hardly knew where
to start.

“When did you get back? Why didn’t you let
us know you were coming?

“With everything going on up here, we
decided to cut our Florida stay short and head home,” said
Larry.

“Nancy’s been keeping us in the loop about
your house sale,” Claire said, “and the buyer’s death. And your
finding him. It must have been so terrible for you, Carol.

“But this,” Claire said, waving her hand
around the family room, “shows that every cloud has a silver
lining, right? You’re going to get top dollar for your house this
time, move to one that’s easier to maintain, and you’re helping a
great cause at the same time.

“I couldn’t believe it when Nancy told me
you had re-connected with Sister Rose,” Claire went on. “You
certainly weren’t good buddies when we were in high school.”

“Believe it or not, we’re getting along
well,” I said. “Of course, it helps that Jim and I have loaned out
our house to be used as the major fundraiser for Sally’s Place. I
may be Sister Rose’s new best friend.

“But enough changing the subject,” I said,
looking Claire straight in the eye. “At the risk of repeating
myself, what the heck happened to you in Florida?”

“Waist Watchers,” replied Claire.

“Waist Watchers?” echoed Jenny. “I’ve heard
of Weight Watchers. But I’ve never heard of Waist Watchers. What is
it? Some kind of new diet thingy?”

“It’s much more than that,” said Claire.
“It’s a whole new way to embrace, and live, your life. Diet and
exercise are important components, of course. But so are yoga and
meditation, Pilates, guided imagery, journaling, and, gosh, so many
other things. It’s just phenomenal.”

Jeez, it sounded like a lot of work to me.
And, well, weird. Not the kind of thing that would ever appeal to
someone as staid as Claire.

Claire has always been able to read me
pretty well.

“I know it sounds kind of New Age,” she
said. “But it isn’t. Waist Watchers is such a joyous experience
when you really get into it, like I have. And I made some terrific
new friends through the program. I just hope I can keep my
motivation going now that I’m home.”

“And I hope that you won’t replace your old
friends with your new ones,” said Nancy, sidling into our little
group. “If you need motivation to exercise, I’ll be glad to take
you to the new gym I’m going to. You’ll just love it.”

“Say Carol,” said My Beloved, eyeing my
middle, “maybe you should join this trend, too. Your waist could
use a little watching.”

I ignored him. Something I’ve had lots of
practice doing over the years. But just wait until I got him back
to the apartment. Then I’d let him have it, the big jerk.

“I will if you will, dear,” I said sweetly.
Jenny raised her eyebrows. She’d witnessed her parents’ sniping
before, and knew sometimes it wasn’t pretty.

I gave Jim a kiss on the cheek. To show him
I’d forgiven him for his tactless remark. But, of course, I
wouldn’t forget it too soon.

Like never.

“Where’s Bob tonight?” I asked Nancy.
Sightings of my very best friend’s husband had been few and far
between in the past few months. Not that that was a problem for us.
We females generally preferred to get together sans spouses as
often as we could.

“Oh, you know,” Nancy answered vaguely.
“Since his company merged with Tyson Financial, he’s traveling all
over the place. I tell him that if he doesn’t come home more often,
I’m going to put our house on the market and move. It’d serve him
right.” For a millisecond, her eyes took on a hard look, and I
realized that she wasn’t kidding.

“What does Sister Rose look like now?” asked
Claire, stepping in to change the subject.

“You can check her out right now,” Nancy
said. “That’s her standing by the fireplace with the microphone in
her hand.”

Claire gaped. “That’s her? She looks better
than I do.”

“There’s a story there,” I assured her.
“I’ll tell you later.”

Sister Rose was trying to quiet the guests,
but it wasn’t working. Then, suddenly, she put her fingers to her
lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle. The kind that brings New
York City cabbies screeching to a halt. Jeez. It almost punctured
my ear drum.

The crowd quieted down immediately. I mean,
who wanted to hear that sound again?

“Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight to
this wonderful preview party for the show house to benefit Sally’s
Place,” Sister said. She then went on to highlight all the
wonderful things Sally’s Place did for victims of domestic
violence.

It was a great speech, but I have to admit,
I kind of zoned out. The excitement of being in my own home again,
plus the crowd of guests at the party and the stress of the last
few days, must have ganged up on me. I thought I was going to
faint.

Then I heard Sister say, “We owe this
wonderful night, and the upcoming show house, to my good friends
Carol and Jim Andrews. Let’s bring them up here and give them a big
thank you for all they’re doing to help Sally’s Place and the
victims of domestic violence we serve.”

Huh? Jim pushed me forward to join Sister
Rose by the fireplace. I felt like I was sleepwalking. Nothing
seemed real.

Then I turned, and saw Mark coming toward
our group, along with Detective Paul. My first thought was, “I’m
glad Mark finally got back with Jenny’s drink.” My second thought
was, “Why is Paul here? He wasn’t on the guest list.”

The pair stopped in front of Mary Alice.
Paul whispered something in her ear, and Mary Alice turned toward
the sliding glass doors and lurched forward toward them. The two
men took her by the arm and guided her out of the room. Mary Alice
was struggling in their grasp. Larry, propelled by Claire, followed
them. They both looked upset.

I heard Mark say, “Mrs. Costello, all we
want to do is ask a few more questions. There’s no need to be
afraid.”

Then I heard Detective Paul say, “You have
the right to remain silent.”

Chapter 30

You know you’re getting older when it takes
you longer to pack your medicine than your makeup.

“Here, drink this,” said My Beloved, handing
me a cup of steaming black coffee. “It’ll wake you up. And maybe
even help you feel better.”

I gingerly opened one eye, then the other.
Lucy, who was lying at my feet, stirred, gave me a dirty look, then
settled back down. I took the coffee, drank deeply, then gave the
cup back to Jim. “Thanks for this, but it’s going to take more than
caffeine to make me feel better after last night’s debacle.”

I sank back into the lumpy pillow and closed
my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘debacle’ in a
sentence before. Sister Rose would be proud of me for broadening my
vocabulary at this late stage of life.”