Murder on the Bucket List (11 page)

fifteen

Most of the time,
Francine was glad Jonathan still had a group of clients and a reason to go to work, even though he could have sold his accounting business and retired. This was one of those days. He had seen the
GMA
episode—he'd sent her a brief text ending with a Groucho Marx emoticon on how sexy she looked soaking wet on television—but Francine was grateful she didn't have to talk about it right then. She changed into exercise clothes, even though she had no intention of exercising. With the excitement of all that had gone on this morning, she felt she'd been through an intense cardio workout.

Clad in her exercise gear, she pushed through the front door of the Brownsburg Fitness Factory, hoping she would be in time to catch Brady Prather before spin class.

The gym was in a former church located north of downtown. The building had been creatively repurposed. Arched front doors led into a vestibule that was now the reception area. She flashed her membership badge at the thin blond attendant and entered onto the main floor. To the right were stairs that led up into an anteroom and choir loft where the free weights were located. To her left was a bank of small rooms containing tanning beds. Directly ahead was a large open area that formerly housed pews, narrowing into a triangular shape that had been the sanctuary. The open area had three distinct segments: one for cardio equipment, another for exercise machines, and a third for stretching and yoga. She scouted all three zones, didn't see Brady, and headed up the stairs.

She hadn't given much thought to figuring out what to say. She had no idea how to break the ice with Brady, let alone get him to open up about Jake. Whatever story she created, it needed to sound truthful. She decided to imagine she was asking about training sessions for Mary Ruth. Of her overweight friends, Mary Ruth was the one who could benefit the most.

She found Brady with a teenage protégé amid the strength training equipment. She didn't want to look like she was loitering, so she picked up a couple of light dumbbells, located a bench, and did a set of ten shoulder presses. While she rested, she watched Brady train the young man.

Brady was tall, his head was shaved, and his body showed the thick, well-developed muscles of a guy who did a lot of weight-lifting. His calves were totally out of proportion. They rose out of his shoes like oversized turkey drumsticks before disappearing into the bottom of his long black shorts. If he hadn't had a soft smile that seemed genuine, he might have come across as scary. Before Francine had to fake another set of shoulder presses, he finished with his client and the young man left the free weight area drenched in sweat. Francine walked over.

“Hi,” she said, sticking out her hand, “I'm a friend of your mom's. Do you have a moment to talk about personal training?”

“For you?” he asked.

“Well, actually it's for a friend of mine. She's kind of overweight. She's intimidated about coming in. Do you work with older people, or only with athletes?”

“I've trained clients over the years who've been older. How long has she been overweight?”

“A long time.”

“The problem is, it's not just exercise; it's diet too. My clients have to commit to both. It's a totally different lifestyle. Do you think she can make those changes?”

His answers were coming too fast, and he was asking too many questions. She needed time to run them through her story to see if they matched up. Maybe she should have rehearsed with Charlotte.

Francine stared at him, trying to remember his last question. Something about changes. “She'll need a lot of encouragement,” she said.

“I can provide motivation here in the gym, but if she can't stick to the diet at home, it's not going to work. Is there anyone who can help with the home part? Maybe you?”

“I hadn't thought of that. Her grandson lives with her, but he's overweight too. I guess I could check up on her.”

“If she's willing to put in the work, I'm willing to train her, depending on my schedule. I have a few openings. There's a sheet at the front desk that has prices on it.”

“Great,” she said. “I'll pick that up.” She was momentarily relieved to get Mary Ruth out of the way so she could focus on the next topic. “Aren't you Jake Maehler's trainer, too?”

Brady shrugged. “He's one of my clients. If your friend is willing, you need to move fast before she talks herself out of it. Do you think you could get her in here tomorrow for an evaluation? I have a hole in my schedule at three o'clock.”

Francine felt her throat tighten. The more he kept bringing up Mary Ruth, the more difficult it was to keep the lying coherent. “I don't know. That might be a little too fast. It's a shame about Jake Maehler's mechanic, isn't it? How's he taking that?”

“He's handling it. You look to be in shape. Have you considered training with your friend? I could devise a program that the two of you could use together. If you were with her, you might be able to motivate her to stick with it.”

Now she was really getting flustered. Not only was Brady giving short answers about Jake, he kept pushing her about Mary Ruth when she had no intention of actually dragging her into it. “I could try. But about …”

“I have to go. I have a spin bike class in a couple of minutes. Let's do this. Bring her in tomorrow at three. I'll talk to her, see where she's at, maybe work her out just a little.”

Brady started downstairs toward the cardio area.

Francine stumbled a bit, struggling to keep pace with him and think on her feet. “I don't know if she'll …”

“Don't worry. I'll make her feel good about it. If she really wants to do this, tomorrow's session will make her want to do it more.” They arrived in the cycling area, where the bikes were arranged in five rows of five each. About twenty were occupied. The bikers were pedaling easily, warming up. Brady mounted the instructor's bike that faced the class and spoke to Francine. “The first session tomorrow is free, okay? Won't cost her a thing to come. Want to join my class today?”

“Well, I …”

He held a hand up to indicate she didn't need to answer. “So, we'll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” she replied, but Brady hadn't waited to hear her out. He was already biking and talking to the class. He picked up a remote and aimed it at the music system. A song blared.

Francine stood for a moment, debating what to do. She suspected Brady wouldn't be surprised if she
didn't
show up tomorrow, and the likelihood he would mention it to her if he noticed her at the gym again was slim. Even if she talked Mary Ruth into this, there was always a possibility he wouldn't be any more forthcoming with information about Jake Maehler than he already had. On the other hand, with two of them working together, they might be able to get him to open up.

Just as she was about to leave, she watched him pick up the remote again, this time dampening the sound so he could talk to the class. Brady and the remote … it made her think. But then she dismissed it. She could connect Brady to Jake and Jake to Friederich, but Brady to Friederich?

She shook her head and headed for the exit. Before she'd even left the building her cell phone rang. She checked the number. It was Joy, so she answered it.

sixteen

“Is this not the
most exciting day ever?” Joy gushed over the line after Francine said hello. “We were a smash on
GMA
.”

“I think that depends on your definitions. I'm betting Mary Ruth and Charlotte would use different terms.”

Joy paused. “So right. I'm thinking selfishly.” Then she got excited again. “But
GMA
loved the interview I gave them the next hour. They're talking to Marcy about me being a regular contributor to the show, covering senior citizens issues and filing reports on unusual things that seniors do.”

“Congratulations. I didn't know anything about a second interview.”

“I thought we were done for. Marcy worked hard to get me a second chance. And it worked!”

“I'm glad.”

“The Brownsburg Chamber of Commerce wants to give you an award at their next meeting for being a good role model and saving Mary Ruth's life.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I'm sure they're just trying to piggyback on our popularity, but I'd go with it if I were you. What are you doing for lunch?”

“I was going to grab something at home, why?”

“I just got out of meeting with the Chamber director, Rob Seneff. That's how I knew about the award you're getting.”

“What were you doing at the Chamber?”

“You remember it was my responsibility to find out who might have inquired about the building Larry owns …”

Francine made listening noises. She decided this was going to be a long conversation, so she left the gym and headed for the car.

“… I can't believe Charlotte was so pushy about this. I know she's your best friend, but even you have to admit her single-mindedness can be annoying. Not one word asking how the second interview went. Just insistent that I go to the Chamber and get the information.”

Francine figured that Charlotte must've called Joy right after Francine had left to go to the gym. “So what did you learn?”

Joy sounded annoyed. “In some ways, you're like her, you know that?” She didn't wait for a response. “Here's what I know. Larry is a member of the Chamber, but Friederich wasn't. Larry's page on the Chamber website listed all of his properties, even the ones that are already rented, with one exception: Friederich's garage.”

“That's curious.”

“Isn't it? I had researched the subject a little before I went to the Chamber, so I asked about it.”

“Did you get an answer?”

“Not really. But I have the impression there's something unusual about the building. Something that Rob knows, and maybe others.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just a feeling. He was … evasive when I asked about the building. Friendly, but evasive. And then he changed the subject with a crack about us ‘skinny-dipping grandmas'.”

“I may shoot the
Indianapolis Star
reporter who coined that phrase.”

“With Friederich's murder unsolved, you should probably keep that thought to yourself.”

Francine unlocked her Prius and opened the door. ”You're right. So why did you ask me about lunch?”

“Oh, right. Getting around to that. I'm heading over to Danville to check the assessor's records.”

Danville was the county seat. “For what?”

“To find out how much information about that property anyone could have gleaned from public records, about who owned it and what was in it. For whatever reason, Larry wasn't advertising the property, but Friederich found out that space was available. I want to see if it's anything obvious.”

Francine wondered if Joy was on a roll. Earlier she must have impressed the
GMA
producers with her interview, and now she had dug up something interesting about the garage Friederich rented from Larry. “Count me in. I'm not at home, but I'm on my way. You want me to swing by and pick you up?” It would only take fifteen minutes to drive from Brownsburg to Danville.

Joy agreed, and they hung up. Francine switched from her regular glasses to her sunglasses, then started the car. She took a couple of minutes to drive past Friederich's garage on Adams Street, even though it was out of the way. She paused to think about the situation. Outside, the building was boarded up like no one was there. Few people knew it was rented to Friederich. Larry had hidden cameras watching what went on inside the building. And Joy just told her others seemed to know there was something unusual about it.

It looked suspicious. Francine felt bad thinking that way. “Jonathan and I have known Larry for years,” she told herself. “He couldn't possibly be involved in something that was … shady.”

She stopped speculating and headed home to change and then pick up Joy. A few minutes into the drive she started checking the rearview mirror more often. There was a dark sedan three cars behind her she thought she recognized as having left the gym's parking lot at the same time she did. But the thought that it had taken the same detour past Friederich's garage spooked her.

“I'm not going to let Charlotte's obsession with murder mysteries get to me. I am
not
being followed.” When she pulled into her subdivision off Hornaday Road, the car she was watching went straight. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. That was also when she noticed her hands were shaking.

seventeen

Francine drove around the
courthouse in Danville trying to find a place to park.

“How is Alice holding up after this morning?” she asked Joy.

“Could be better. I've had to order Marcy to stop asking her about her bucket list.”

Francine found a spot next to a truck on the east side of the courthouse and pulled in. “I've never quite figured out why she's so secretive about her top item. Doesn't she know we can't help her make it happen if she won't tell us what it is?”

“I may know a little bit more about that than you. She says we
can't
help her. She says it would take a miracle. You know that cross around her neck? There's a Biblical verse on it that is all about the miracle she wants. I've asked her to tell me what the verse is or let me see it, but she won't. If we could get that cross off her, we could figure it out.”

“She was wearing it the night we were supposed to go skinny-dipping, so I don't think it's going to come off without divine intervention or a lot of liquor. And we both know Alice hardly drinks.”

Francine and Joy had settled on lunch at the Courthouse Grounds, a comfortable little coffee shop on the square in downtown Danville that the Bridge Club frequented. Mary Ruth said the owners had managed that tricky balance of making the place feel intimate but welcoming. Whether it was your first time or you were a regular, she said, you always felt welcome in their elegant little café.

But that was not how Francine felt this time. This time when they walked in the door, everyone stopped talking and looked at them.
Like we're celebrities
.

Joy smiled magnanimously. Francine reddened.

“Just head for the empty table in the back and act like normal,” Joy whispered.

Francine felt she was on a runway, not an aisle. She tried to look as inconspicuous as possible as she made her way past the round, antique Queen Anne tables. Every seat of the first six was occupied, every eye was upon her. Moving purposefully toward the back, she didn't think about Joy behind her when she made a sudden decision to stop at the self-serve coffee area. Joy collided with her just as Francine picked up a coffee mug. The mug sailed into the kitchen and hit one of the owners on the hand. He'd just picked up a plate of food but let it loose in surprise. The plate shattered when it hit the kitchen floor, sending egg salad all over his pants.

“I'm really sorry,” Francine said, struggling to keep the table upright. Joy grabbed a coffee urn before it tipped over.

“It's quite all right,” said the owner, recovering quickly. “I'd always wondered how these pants might look in yellow.” He grabbed a napkin and scraped the egg salad off.

Francine and Joy attempted to reassemble the coffee table's contents. “That was close,” Francine whispered. “Good thing we averted that disaster.”

Joy looked out over the sea of cell phones taking their pictures. “I think it still might be a disaster. Our graceful photos might be all over Facebook in a matter of minutes.”

The owner saw what Joy saw, helped them with the table and got them seated.

“I'm so sorry,” Francine said. “I'll pay for that sandwich you dropped.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “It's just a sandwich. Let me get you both coffee. I'll be back with the menus.”

It took a while, but conversation in the restaurant resumed its normal hushed tone. Francine breathed a sigh of relief. The owner brought them coffee and menus. The two women hurriedly ordered.

Rather than make conversation, Francine cast casual glances at the other patrons to see if they were being watched. Every time she looked up, someone averted their eyes. The place was mostly women. She heard male lawyers preferred Frank's Place, an Italian restaurant with a liquor license on the other side of the Royal movie theater from the Courthouse Grounds, but she'd never been there at lunch.

“I think we're okay,” she told Joy. “No one has their cell phones in hand.”

“That's because they already uploaded their photos to Facebook and Twitter while we were ordering. I saw it out of the corner of my eye.”

Francine sighed. She wouldn't have guessed the people who were lunching there would be the types. They were divided between the professionally dressed, probably lawyers from the courthouse, and the older “ladies who lunched.” But it wasn't the first time she she'd been wrong about things like that.

Joy whispered, “I wonder if this is what Robert Pattinson faces every day. In a way, it's kind of exciting, isn't it?”

“More awkward than exciting,” she said, pretending to know who Robert Pattinson was. She tried to imagine how much more of this they were in for if they couldn't persuade Joy to rein in her publicist. “I don't generally read celebrity magazines unless I'm in the beauty shop, but I see a lot of bad things caused by paparazzi. Are you sure you're not getting in over your head?”

“By hiring Marcy? I don't understand why everyone is so resistant to getting their moment in the spotlight.” Joy blew on her coffee and then took a drink. “I've always wanted to be glamorous. When I was young I fantasized I'd grow up to be a Grace Kelly to someone's Cary Grant. Instead I became a skinny Carol Channing who thought she'd married Rock Hudson's on-screen double only to find out she had married Rock Hudson's
in-bedroom
double.”

Francine winced. A long time ago, shortly after Joy had moved into the neighborhood and become part of the Summer Ridge Bridge Club, her husband had left her for another man. With much therapy and their support, not to mention a big divorce settlement, they thought Joy had come through okay. Now Francine had her doubts. “This isn't a latent attempt to show Bruno up, is it?”

Joy gave a wry smile. “Well, not really. Although I hope he noticed I did a great job handling the
GMA
segment. He demeaned my role as a secretary at Lilly Endowment. That'd show him.”

The owner returned with their food. As he slid the plates in front of them, Francine remembered how large the sandwiches were. She'd have to carry half of hers home.

Just about the time she figured out how to broach the subject again of Joy's sudden need for attention, Joy finished the remaining coffee. She looked in her mug. “Empty already.” She got up and went to the coffee station.

Francine picked up her spoon and sampled the chicken corn chowder that had come with her turkey sandwich. It was wonderful; just the right amount of creaminess without feeling heavy. She had a big spoonful in her mouth when someone asked, “Can I sit here with you?”

She looked up. Darla Baggesen, Homeowners' Association Nazi, stood in front of her holding a mug. Francine tried to finish the bite, but Darla didn't wait for an answer. She set her mug at the empty
space between Francine and Joy.

“Thanks,” she said. She pulled out her chair to sit. The tables were so close that she nearly bumped the woman at the next table. “It's crowded in here,” she told Francine. “Good thing I'm thin.” She placed her napkin on her lap. “So, not to bring up an unpleasant subject or anything, but how are you faring since the
Good Morning America
fiasco this morning?”

“We're doing okay,” Francine responded coolly. “I don't think we violated any homeowners' tenants today. I know you were watching from your balcony. Who was in your group?” She had thought about
not
mentioning the balcony since it wasn't good to be on Darla's bad side. But she guessed the Bridge Club had already crossed that line.

Darla batted her eyes, seemingly taken aback. She sported long lashes so mascara-laden Francine was afraid they might stick together if she closed them for too long. “Some people from the neighborhood. Maybe a few visitors from the local media. It was better having them on my balcony than camped out on Alice's lawn, which would have been a violation.”

“I'm hopeful we can put this episode behind us now.”

“You can hope, but I wouldn't bet on it after
Good Morning America
. I think we're going to have to get used to having the ‘skinny-dipping grandma' celebrities in our subdivision. Rumor has it the Visit Hendricks County bureau wants you to do a calendar.”

How did that rumor start?
“We would never do something like that.”

“You say that now, but wait till you're in
People
magazine.” She looked around to see Joy returning from the coffee station. “I heard Joy's publicist is working on them,” she said quickly. “Maybe you'll get your own reality show on TLC.”

Joy shifted her food so she was seated on the other side of Francine from Darla. She faked a smile. “Hi, Darla.”

The owner came by and dropped off Darla's food, a spinach quiche with fruit cup she had apparently ordered when she arrived.

Joy picked at the chicken salad in her spinach wrap but then put the fork down. “I'm too excited to eat,” she said. She drank more coffee.

Francine addressed the elephant in the room. “What are you doing here in Danville, Darla?”

She sighed. “I've been at the courthouse. More paperwork on the divorce. Sara turned sixteen last week. Legally, she can now decide who she wants to live with. My ex is trying to get her to move in. It's all a ploy so he can stop sending me support payments. It's not like I need that money for myself, you know. It's all about Sara's racing.”

Joy dabbed her mouth with her napkin and sounded polite when she asked, “How's her season going?”

“It would be going better if I could get her to focus more on her driving and less on boys.” She laughed, but not convincingly. Francine suspected there was some truth behind it. “Seriously, though, she's doing well. Of course, if we had more money it would help. Racing is expensive.”

“I thought your ex-husband was Sara's mechanic.”

“He is, but I'd rather have his money than him. Vince is not very good. Everything he does—well, I've always had to make a list and check it twice. Santa Claus should hire me for seasonal help. What do you know about this luncheon Mary Ruth is having tomorrow? I got a voicemail about it.”

Though no one cared for Darla, Francine knew was best to rally her behind the idea. “Mary Ruth's trying to get some racing clients for her catering business, so this is really about that. But since we've all been a little shaken over a murder taking place in the neighborhood, Charlotte is arranging for the police to talk to us about a neighborhood watch program.”

“Plus, it'll be good for everyone to hear the truth about how we found Friederich,” Joy added, “and Alice is anxious to dispel the rumor that we go skinny-dipping all the time.”

Darla pursed her cherry-red lips. “Good old Holy Alice. I daresay the tourism people won't be happy to hear that, though.” She leaned in. “You mentioned the police will be there. Will they tell us what they know about the case?”

Joy shrugged. “You know how the police are …”

“… but I'm sure they'll tell us whatever they can,” Francine said. She didn't want to lose any support Darla might give them.

“As President of the Homeowners Association, I suppose I should be there. And Mary Ruth's food
is
delicious. I just hope the police will be open with us.”

“You know a lot of people in the racing business,” Joy said. “A good word from you would really help her.”

“I guess I do know a lot of people,” she said. “Is she licensed to cater at Lucas Oil Raceway?”

“She is, but she hasn't got a single job lined up for SpeedFest.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Francine hated herself for thinking that Darla's altruism would come with a price tag.
How cynical I've become
. She tried to remember that Darla was a good mother. Despite the divorce and her snide comments about her ex-husband's effectiveness as a mechanic, she had found ways to work with Sara's father. Francine had a thought. “Does Sara know Jake Maehler?”

“Of course they know each other! Sara is a huge fan. And mark my words, she'll be the next big thing from Brownsburg after Jake. Why do you ask?”

“Friederich was Jake's mentor for so many years. I just wondered how he's doing.”

“Oh, that.” Darla picked at the last bit of fruit in her cup.

She's dying to spill some gossip
, Francine thought.

“Jake's doing fine,” Darla said eventually. “Sara said she asked Jake what he was going to do about a mechanic for the SpeedFest Race. He said he thought his own skills were enough to make it work, if he had to. But she said she was certain Jake was looking for another mechanic.”

“He hasn't got much time left.”

“Not much at all.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Speaking of time, I should check in with Sara.” She used the touch screen on her phone. “Hmmm. Listen, I need to get moving. Thanks for letting me sit with you.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yes, definitely.” Darla picked up her purse. Francine noted that it was a Coach brand.
Must be taking her ex to the cleaners.

The center aisle at the Courthouse Grounds was narrow, so Darla could not hurry despite her declaration. She also wasn't exactly thin (again despite her declaration), more like strong and in shape, and she definitely had hips. They swayed from side to side in a Mae West kind of way as she made her way out.

“She knows how to make an exit, doesn't she?” Francine said. “We should make ours now. We'll pale in comparison.”