Moving Can Be Murder (30 page)

I opened my eyes again and looked at My
Beloved. “Do me a big favor and tell me that last night didn’t
happen. Mary Alice is snug in her bed, or hard at work at the
hospital. Lie to me if you have to.”

Jim carefully placed the coffee on the relic
that served as our bedside table. “I wish I could, Carol. But it
happened, all right. Just like you remember it. I was on the phone
early this morning with Larry. He said that the police finally let
Mary Alice go home last night after questioning her for several
hours about her connection with Jack Cartwright. The only evidence
they have against her is circumstantial, but it still doesn’t look
good for her. Apparently several people heard her say that if she
ever met the person who was responsible for Brian’s death, she’d
kill him. That’s pretty damaging. And she’s already admitted being
at our house the night before the closing, when Jack Cartwright
died.”

I sat up in bed like I’d been poked with a
cattle prod. “That’s just ridiculous, Jim. I was one of the people
who heard Mary Alice say that at our last Bunco party. She was very
upset at the time. But she wouldn’t ever do such a horrible thing.
She’s a nurse, for God’s sake. Her whole life has been devoted to
helping people, not harming them.”

“You know that,” Jim said. “And I know that.
Because we both know Mary Alice very well. But you have to admit,
it doesn’t sound good.”

I sank back on the pillow again. Even lying
on lumps was preferable to the way this conversation was going.

“One more thing, Carol,” said My
Beloved.

I reached for the coffee and took a healthy
swallow. Something in Jim’s tone told me I needed the extra
fortification.

“Yes, Jim,” I said. “What?”

“I have one very important item to add to
your Honey-Don’t List. Not just for today. For the future, too. And
you better not argue with me about it.

“Do not interfere in the police
investigation into Jack Cartwright’s death. No matter how much you
want to help Mary Alice. Under. Any. Circumstances.
Understand?”

“I understand, Jim,” I said meekly. “I
won’t.”

Which was, of course, an easy promise for me
to make. Because I’d already decided to investigate Jack’s death on
my own.

Jim left the apartment shortly after his
ultimatum, undoubtedly headed toward the newspaper so he could work
on another column without interference from me.

I scrambled for the phone. Time to make
calls and assemble my team of very private (as in, “If our beloveds
knew what we were up to, we’d be in big trouble, so mum’s the
word”) investigators: Claire, Nancy, Jenny, Deanna, and Maria
Lesko. We arranged to meet at Maria’s Trattoria at 10:00 this
morning, before the restaurant opened for business, so we could
talk privately and come up with a plan.

I deliberately left Sister Rose out of the
group. I figured I could always call on her if I needed to. And she
might not approve of some of the methods we might have to use to
get Mary Alice out of the fix she found herself in. Nuns tend to
frown at things like little white lies, right?

Nancy had already positioned herself at the
head of the table by the time I’d arrived. For a minute – OK, two
minutes – that annoyed me, because it was, after all, my
investigative team. Ah, well. In the interests of harmony, I let
that pass.

Maria had thoughtfully provided coffee and a
plate of freshly baked muffins to jump start our brain cells.
Nothing like the combination of caffeine and sugar to get the mind
going.

As usual, everybody was talking at the same
time. At first, we all had to vent about how terrible it was that
Mary Alice had been dragged (Nancy’s word – she always tends to
overdramatize) out of the preview party by Mark and Paul.

Jenny immediately took offense at that, and
pointed out that Mark was not on duty last night. According to her,
Paul had enlisted his help on the spur of the moment. We all
peppered her with questions about whether Mark would now been
assigned to the case he’d inadvertently become involved in.

Jenny threw up her hands in frustration. “I
tell you, I don’t know.”

I let it go. If Jenny and Mark were together
again, their private life was (mostly) none of my business. Though
I suspected she knew more than she was saying.

“OK, everybody,” I said. “It’s time for us
to get organized. I bet if we put our collective heads together, we
can come up with a sure-fire plan to clear Mary Alice of any
possible police suspicion.”

My baby blues honed in on Claire.

“Before we get serious, I have to say I
can’t get used to you as a redhead.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” my
hitherto meek, mild and white-haired friend retorted. “I plan to
stay this way for a long, long time.”

“I think you look terrific,” Deanna said,
“and I’ll do everything I can to keep your hair as red as you
want.”

Claire beamed at Deanna, and I thought, “Of
course you will. Think of all the money you’ll make at the hair
salon giving Claire touchups.” Then, I mentally slapped myself.
Deanna was a good friend, and never charged me for trimming my
bangs between haircuts.

“I think you’re gorgeous, too, Claire,” I
said. “But I always thought you were.”

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, since Larry
has committed himself to representing Mary Alice, can you find out
from him what defense strategy he’s planning, should it come to
that?” God forbid.

Claire looked hesitant. “I don’t know about
that, Carol. One of the reasons Larry and I have been married so
long is that I don’t stick my nose into his legal cases.”

“Then maybe it’s time you did,” I snapped
back. “After all, this is Mary Alice we’re talking about. One of
our dearest friends in the world. You want to help her, don’t
you?”

Claire nodded her head. “All right, I’ll see
what I can do.”

“Good,” I said. “Now, Nancy, remember last
year when Jim was in so much trouble? You and your Realtors’
network were terrific getting information on that phony retirement
coach, Davis Rhodes. Do you think you can use the network again to
find out some background stuff about Jack Cartwright?”

Usually Nancy jumps at opportunities like
this without hesitation, but this time she didn’t look as gung ho
as I expected.

“I don’t know what I can find out this time,
Carol,” she said. “The reason I was helpful before was that both
Davis Rhodes and his ex-wife had rented property in Fairport. The
only Fairport property the Cartwrights were involved with was your
house.”

I was getting exasperated. We weren’t
getting anywhere.

“Look, Nancy,” I said with as much patience
as I could dredge up, “so many mystery stories have the detective
investigating a murder by first finding out everything he can about
the victim. That usually leads to the motive for the crime, and
then to the guilty party. I think we have to start by finding out
everything we can about Jack before he and his family moved to
Fairport.”

“OK, Carol,” Nancy said. “I’ll poke around
and see what I can do. Maybe Dream Homes Realty has a partner
agency in the town he came from. Wherever that was.”

“I think I can help you there,” said Maria.
“The Trattoria catered the ‘welcome to the neighborhood party’ that
the Millers gave for their daughter and her family. I couldn’t help
but overhear Jack talking about his college days in Boston. That’s
apparently where he met Alyssa. When they got married a few years
ago, he and Alyssa moved to Cape Cod. That’s where they started
their family. I don’t think he mentioned what town, though.”

“That’s great information,” said Nancy. “How
many towns can there be on Cape Cod? I’m sure I can find out where
they used to live.”

I started to get excited. It looked like we
were finally starting to roll.

“Now, Deanna,” I said. “Yes, sir,” she
snapped back at me, giving me a salute. “Reporting for duty,
sir.”

“Very funny,” I said. Then I realized I
better be extra nice to her. I didn’t want to come off as too
high-handed and have her turn my hair green.

“Deanna,” I said, “you’re in a special
position because of the hair salon. By any chance, is Sara Miller
or any member of her family a customers of yours?”

Deanna beamed at me. “I just knew you were
going to ask me that, Carol.”

Then, her face fell. Well, not actually
fell. But you know what I mean.

“As a matter of fact, Sara’s not a customer.
Neither is her daughter. But I do volunteer at Sally’s Place, doing
hair for the clients for free. If I pick up any information I think
would be helpful, of course I’ll tell you. That goes for the salon,
too. You never know who’s going to walk in and need a touchup.”

“Ditto,” said Maria. “You never know who’s
going to come into the restaurant, either. It’s amazing what people
will talk about in a public place. They have no idea how many
others overhear their most private conversations. Or maybe they
just don’t care. I’ll alert all the servers to keep their ears open
and their mouths shut.”

“Well, I guess that’s all of us,” I said.
“We each have a job to do. Let’s get back together at the end of
the week and report in. But if anyone finds out something
important, share it right away, OK?”

“What about you, Mom?” asked Jenny. “What’s
your job?”

“Don’t worry about me. I have plenty of
leads to track down.”

And I knew exactly how I was going to start,
by e-mailing my wandering son, the Internet super sleuth, and
having him research Jack Cartwright. His e-mail wouldn’t dare give
me that automatic “Out of office on a special project”
response.

“Maria, all right if we meet here?” I
asked.

“Works for me,” said Maria. “Friday morning,
eight-thirty?”

“Let’s get to work, everybody,” I said, and
dismissed the troops.

When I arrived back at the apartment, I was
greeted by two very grumpy English cocker spaniels. They were right
to be grumpy. In my haste to get to Maria’s to rally my sleuthing
team, I had completely forgotten to give Lucy and Ethel their
breakfast. Which they let me know in no uncertain terms.

Let me tell you, if you think hell hath no
fury like a woman scorned, you’ve never met two English cockers
who’ve skipped a meal. It’s not a pretty sight.

Fortunately, they were easy to placate. A
quick bowl of kibble for two, a brisk walk around the neighborhood,
and all was forgiven. They soon settled back into a post-breakfast
nap.

“OK, girls,” I said. “We’re going to get
online now and contact Mike. We need his Internet research
skills.”

No comment. Just a lot of heavy breathing.
The kind that happens when someone is in a heavy sleep, not the
other kind.

“And we’ve got to get this done before Jim
comes home. You know that he won’t approve of my meddling…I mean,
helping clear Mary Alice.”

We were lucky our computer was hooked up,
but, alas, no high-speed Internet service here. Jim didn’t want to
invest the money – big surprise. It was good old “dinosaur dial-up”
for us. As he’d pointed out, we were only going to be in these
temporary digs for a short time. Which, under the current
circumstances, was now an indefinite time.

We were also sharing a single computer. With
agreed-upon hours as to when it was available to each of us without
interfering with the other. But since Jim was out of the house,
even though it was his “time of day,” I logged on without feeling
guilty that I was encroaching on My Beloved.

I fired off an e-mail to Mike, giving him
the bare facts about what was going on here in Fairport. I didn’t
want to alarm him, but I did want to get his attention and make him
respond to me, the woman who endured 19 hours of horrific labor to
bring him into the world.