Much Ado About Muffin (9 page)

She grabbed my arm and marched me around the corner, then burst into tears. I grabbed her into a hug and we stood like that for a few minutes.

“Lizzie, I'm so sorry I was gone so long. What's going on?”

“I hate that woman . . .
hate
her!” she wailed, swiping at her wild hair. “She's got Mom hypnotized or something. Crystal can do no wrong. Do you know Mom invited her to move in with us? And Mom is paying the whole shot,
everything
? Crystal pays
nothing
 . . . I know 'cause I asked. Mom's trying to make a go of the shop, but she's gone back to her old job to pay for it all, so she works all day at the shop and then she works at the bar in the evening. I never see her except with that . . . that . . .” She sputtered to silence.

An FBI car turned the corner, obvious with its tinted windows. “What's going on, anyway?” Lizzie asked, straightening and watching the car roll past. “There were weird rumors going around at school about something happening in Autumn Vale. I had a problem in class, so I went to my counselor and she let me go home early.”

I told her what had happened, and how Gogi and I discovered Minnie dead. Lizzie is tough as nails about a lot of things, and death and dying is one of those things. Being a teenager, she probably thought that Minnie, in her sixties, was pretty much done with the fun part of life anyway.

Not at all perturbed, she shrugged. But then her expression darkened. “Maybe Crystal did it. They
hated
each other!”

E
merald poked her
head around the corner. “What's going on? Lizzie, I got a call from your principal. He said your counselor sent you home for personal reasons. What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “I was feeling cruddy. I'm better now. You working tonight?”

Emerald looked wary. “Yes.” She waited.

“Can I go to Golden Acres? It's my afternoon to serve tea. Merry can take me.”

“I don't want you imposing on Merry,” she said, scowling.

When Emerald scowls I can occasionally see a bit of Lizzie in her, though most of the time I see Lizzie's aunt Binny in those scowls. “It's not an imposition,” I said, hoping to defuse the tension.

“Still, she can walk,” Emerald said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Wait here,” I said to Lizzie. She rolled her eyes at me. I strolled up to Emerald and took her arm, tugging her back
around the brick building corner toward her shop. “Em, is anything wrong? Did I do anything to upset you?”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“You're acting different.” I searched her face. “We're friends, but you'd never know it by how you're behaving.”

She looked over her shoulder. Crystal had come out of the shop and was futzing around, edging closer, trying to listen, it looked like. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Okay. I'd have to try a different tack. “So, I don't understand a lot about this Consciousness Calling stuff. What's up with that?”

She focused back on me and her stance relaxed, arms uncrossed. “There's no way I can explain it all to you. You need to talk to Crystal. She's the most
amazing
person!”

Her face glowed with new energy, and she smiled; I was happy to see that at least. Emerald is a pretty woman: slim, dark-haired, lively. But not so long ago she had a lot of problems in her life, among them a rebellious teenager, a broken relationship with her mother, and a deep fracture between herself and Lizzie's father. Just when she and Tom were working things out, he was murdered. We'd all seen her through some healing with her mother and Lizzie, and now it seemed that she was finding personal happiness. I only wanted the best for her after all that.

“Do you do meetings, or what?”

“We have classes,” she said. “It's so inspiring. You
have
to visit one!” Then her face fell. “But I won't be at the next few. I have to work.”

“I heard you were back at the bar in Ridley Ridge. I thought you were getting into massage therapy so you wouldn't have to work there anymore.”

She stiffened. Maybe it sounded judgmental, even harsh; I hadn't meant it to, but I was becoming aware of how close to us Crystal had gotten, edging down the sidewalk, and I
became irritated. Couldn't I talk to my friend without her hovering?

She drifted over, put her arm over Em's shoulder, and said, “Emerald and I are building something here, and only
some
people, those rare folks with the inner light, will understand.” Her voice was melodic, her tone patronizing. “You may not be ready for the message.”

“The message?” I looked from Crystal to Emerald and back.

“We're all working toward the peaceful and prosperous life we deserve. Emerald deserves that more than anyone I know, and
I'm
going to help her get it.”

The clear implication was, the rest of us didn't care enough to see her happy. I burned inside; I'd given Emerald a job and a place to live, helping her leave her job at that ratty bar. There's nothing wrong with tending bar or serving cocktails, but the place in Ridley Ridge was a hole, worse than most dive bars, and the job didn't go well with a troubled rebellious teenager who needed her mom on evenings and weekends.

However, Emerald glowed, her smile radiant, and she hugged Crystal. “See? You
should
come to a meeting, Merry! She's the
best
.”

“I'll make it a priority,” I said, but I don't think she got my sarcasm. “I'll take Lizzie over to Golden Acres.” I returned to my teen friend, who had been sneaking peaks at us all talking from around the corner. “C'mon, kiddo. I'll give you a lift.”

“You don't like her, do you?” she said, trotting alongside of me and looking up, scanning my expression. “
Finally
, someone who hates Crystal as much as I do!” she hooted, fist pumping the air. “The big phony.”

“Lizzie, I don't even know the woman.” She quieted after that and we found my car. Once inside, I glanced over at
Lizzie, who fastened the three-point seat belt—I had them installed by my mechanic when he revived the Caddy from its long slumber in the converted carriage house garage, replacing the lap belts it came with—and hugged her bag to her chest, her expression morose. “How is Alcina?” I asked, of Lizzie's best friend, a free-spirited homeschooled girl a year or two younger than Lizzie. She was given to wearing old wedding dresses and constructing little gnome homes in my woods, which Lizzie then photographed.

She shrugged. “I haven't seen her lately. Mom is so busy she can't give me a lift out to Alcina's place, and anyway, Crystal has her convinced that Alcina's parents are Wiccan antiestablishment weirdos.”

I pulled away from the curb. “Wow, judgmental. First, what's wrong with Wiccans? I've known a few, and like them a lot better than those who are scared of them. And second . . . I don't think Alcina's folks
are
Wiccan, are they? And third, I'd think that someone like Crystal would be careful about judging other people harshly. I mean, this whole CC stuff feels kind of woo-woo to me. I'd think she'd be more open and accepting.”

Lizzie squished around, tugging at her shoulder belt. “I know, right?” she said, her pale face earnest. She swept back her mop of frizzy hair, exposing a blooming pimple on her forehead. “It feels like Mom doesn't make her own decisions anymore, and I'm . . .” She fell silent, took a long, shaky breath, and said, “Merry, I'm scared.”

“Why are you scared?”

“I don't wanna go back to living with Grandma. I mean, I
love
Grandma, and she's okay, but I'd rather live with Mom. But we've been fighting a lot lately. She's being weird about stuff.”

Weird about stuff—
what did that mean? It was too much to address all at once, but I'd help her through it. I remembered all too well how it felt to have conflict with your mother,
like your whole world was unstable, untrustworthy. But right now, I had another question. I slowed and pulled up to the curb by Golden Acres, unbuckled, and turned to my young friend. “Lizzie, what did you mean that maybe Crystal is the one who killed Minnie? And that she hates her?”

“Haven't you heard about how Ms. Urquhart stormed a CC meeting one night?”

“I heard something about it. Were you there?”

“I was; Mom was working. But me, I have to make coffee and clean up afterward. It's such
crap
.” She
harrumph
ed and hugged her bag. “Crystal calls me a junior Consciousness Calling officer, as if I ever asked to freakin' join her cult. It's kid labor, that's what it is.”

I kept my patience and got back to the issue at hand. “So tell me more about all this . . . Where did Crystal Rouse come from?”

It was like I had opened the floodgates on stuff Lizzie had been holding back for months. When Emerald first got involved with Crystal, the woman was living with a CC follower she had met at a franchise meeting in San Diego, Aimee someone or other. A franchise meeting—that gave me pause. So CC was right there with Burger King and Dunkin' Donuts? She apparently had a falling-out with Aimee about the time that Emerald got seriously into CC.

I digested what I'd learned. “I thought your mom was taking a massage therapy course. We
all
did. Gogi and I talked about it, that if she set up a massage spa she'd have lots of customers locally. So what is the massage table for?”

Lizzie cast me a look. “You have
got
to come to a meeting. First they chant the contexts, then they do something called ‘calling inner consciousness.' You have to lie down on the table and let people stand around you and poke at you while asking you to call up your deepest memories.”

“Sounds horrendous. What is that supposed to do?”

“Help you erase all your negative programming from when
you were a kid—you know, let go of all the crap people put on you through your life. You're supposed to be freed from it all and go forth without being weighed down by guilt.”

“That doesn't sound so bad. We could all use some help to get rid of that stuff.”

She glanced at me darkly. “Yeah, but the crud people
say
! It's embarrassing. Crystal's always in charge, and it's like hypnotism, or something. She's started doing private sessions for people who don't want to do it in a meeting.”

“I can understand that. People may be embarrassed by what they say, right?”

“Yeah, but why let some ding-dong like Crystal into all your intimate secrets? She laughs about it with Mom.”

“That doesn't sound like Emerald.”

“Mom goes along with it because
Crystal
says it's okay.
Crystal
says they're just friends blowing off steam.” She snorted and rolled her eyes.

The one thing I had always appreciated about Lizzie was her stubborn independence, her lack of need for approval. It caused her endless trouble, but would save her in the long run. “So what happened between Crystal and Minnie?”

She gnawed her fingernail, talking between bites. “Brianna is one of Minnie's boarders, right?”

“I've heard about her and the others. Hannah told me.”

“Brianna has been coming to CC meetings, and Minnie didn't like it. She came to one herself, and sat in the back muttering and staring. When Crystal started doing a calling on Brianna, Minnie got all red in the face and tried to haul Brianna off the table. A big fight erupted. Everyone there ganged up on Minnie, and she left in a huff.”

“Brianna stayed?”

“Yeah. She was crying and Crystal took her into another room and made her sit and talked to her about it for a half hour while everyone else sat around looking at each other. Dopes didn't even talk. Didn't want to upset Crystal.”

“When did this happen?”

“Week ago or so. Maybe two weeks. Since then Brianna has started to look for somewhere else to live, I guess. Crystal wanted her to move in with us, but for once Mom put her foot down because Brianna would have had to share a room with one of us, and guess who
that
would've been? Mom said no and Crystal backed down.”

I was silent for a long minute, staring out the window. I was sure the FBI would hear all about Crystal and Minnie's confrontation and wondered what they'd make of it. I fretted, too, remembering what Mabel had told me about Em's confrontation with Minnie—“bopping her on the nose”—and what Esposito would make about that. Silly, I know; Emerald did not kill Minnie, I was sure. “Look, Lizzie, if the FBI wants to talk to you, tell them everything you've told me.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you think they will?” she asked. “That would be so
seriously
cool. I could tell all those jerks at school that I was wanted for murder and they'd leave me alone.”

“Couple more years, kiddo, and then you can go to college for photography.” We got out of the car and headed up the drive toward Golden Acres.

“CC wouldn't be so bad if they didn't insist on making everything so stupid, like you could solve anything with a calling and a smile and spouting some dumbass saying.
You can do anything you want, just want anything
.
Make the world better by putting on a smile
.” Lizzie made a rude noise. “Life isn't like that. You can't wish your problems away, or Crystal would disappear.”

I found Doc in the living area, so I stayed for tea. We chatted, and naturally spent some time talking about my morning experience. He took my hand and we sat like that for a while, his long, bony fingers interwoven with mine. “I've known Minnie ever since she moved here from Ridley Ridge,” he said. “At first she worked part-time at the post
office, but when the old fart who ran it died, she stepped into the job full-time.”

I glanced over at him, sensing some sadness. “You know, she gave me a hard time almost from the beginning, and she's always bad-mouthing Gogi.”

“Don't mind me; seems a shame, a kid like that getting murdered,”

Only a ninety-something would consider sixty-something Minnie a “kid.”

“Some people are born like that. She was a funny sort, liked to collect trophies from her conflicts, kinda like war trophies.” He snorted, chuckling as he continued, “One time she and Hubert went at it when he told her he'd been abducted by UFOs, and she said he was full of it. Course, we all
know
Hubert is full of it, but Minnie didn't seem to get that he was joshin' her. Anyway, a while later I went into the post office for something, and there was Hubert's toupee, hangin' from a clothes peg . . . looked like a scalp. Gave me a start, lemme tell ya.”