Class Reunions Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  “What is your problem today, Fig?”

  Mrooow.

  He rubbed against my leg and I picked him up around the middle. “Do you miss me? You’re used to me being home all the time, aren’t you, buddy?”

  “If he’s telling you he’s hungry, don’t believe him. I just gave him a can of tuna at lunchtime.”

  Aunt Ginny had changed into a red satin dress with a pencil skirt and a low neckline.

  I put Figaro down and he tried to lead me toward the kitchen.

  Aunt Ginny was pulling on black leather driving gloves. “Figaro, don’t be a glutton.”

  Figaro flattened his ears to his head and presumably began working on plan B, which most likely involved pooping in Aunt Ginny’s shoe.

  I locked the front door and started to head toward the Corolla.

  “Why don’t we take Bessie?” Aunt Ginny was holding her keys up and dangling them.

  Bessie was Aunt Ginny’s 1958, cherry red–and-white Corvette convertible with whitewall tires, and she was in pristine condition. Bessie had never been in an accident. Not because of Aunt Ginny’s driving, which was horrendous, but more likely because the car was so exquisite that no one dared hit it and mar its beauty. Everyone got out of the way when they saw Aunt Ginny coming.

  “Um, sure. You want me to drive though?”

  Aunt Ginny marched out to the detached garage in the back. “No, I’ve been wanting to take the old girl out for a spin.”

  I said a silent prayer for protection and got in the passenger seat.

  Aunt Ginny put the top down, then backed Bessie out of the garage and peeled out down the gravel driveway to the street.

  Mr. Winston was out getting his mail. When he saw Aunt Ginny, he dropped his circulars in the grass and ran for the front porch, shouting, “Ginny’s behind the wheel! Take cover!”

  Aunt Ginny ran up over the curb and backed into Mr. Winston’s mailbox, tilting it to a forty-five-degree angle. Then she put the car in drive and swerved out into the lane. She overcorrected and rammed the Sheinbergs’ trash cans. One of the lids flew up into the hydrangea bushes. Aunt Ginny tapped the horn and gave a little wave to Mrs. Sheinberg as she drove by, dragging the other trash can lid behind us.

  “I just saw Mrs. Sheinberg make the sign of the cross. I didn’t know they were Catholic.”

  Aunt Ginny adjusted her rearview mirror to check her lipstick. “They aren’t, they’re Jewish.”

  “Aunt Ginny, you know you just blew through a stop sign?”

  “They don’t apply to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everybody knows my car and they always give me the right of way when they see me.”

  I said a second silent prayer because I was having doubts that the first prayer was enough to cover me.

  “Did you remember to bring your checkbook? This shindig costs a hundred dollars a plate.”

  “I’ve got it. Robert could feed a third-world country just on what Barbie spent at the spa each month, but every time you turn around he’s having another fundraiser. What’s that all about?”

  “Maybe he’s too cheap to spend his own money on his campaign.”

  “Do you think maybe he needs the life insurance money to pay off debt?”

  Aunt Ginny blew through a red light at an intersection and we were narrowly missed by a truck hauling produce. “My first husband, Jimmy Ray, nearly lost everything we had to the gambling bug. One time he came home from work with a bunch of low-quality paint-by-numbers he took instead of a paycheck for working in some Greek restaurant. I had to borrow money from your great-grandfather to keep the electricity on.”

  “What did he do with all the paintings?”

  Aunt Ginny took a narrow corner on two wheels. “Hocked ’em for money to bet at the track.”

  We came to a screeching halt in front of the Loyal Order of the Moose, Cape May branch. Aunt Ginny reapplied her lipstick. I tried to loosen my grip on the door handle and checked to see if I’d peed a little. Prison probably isn’t so bad. I bet they even have a book club. A book club could be nice.

  Sawyer opened my door and touched me on the shoulder. “You’re here. You’re still alive.”

  “Aunt Ginny is driving Bessie.”

  Sawyer pulled me gently up by my elbow. “I know, honey, come on.”

  The Moose Lodge was a one-story wooden beast of a building the color of, well . . . a moose. I guess it was a theme with them. The inside was pretty utilitarian. Long rows of tables with folding chairs. A stage area with a microphone. The kitchen was in the back and there were windowed openings where food could be served buffet-style or expedited for servers. The most impressive thing in the room was the massive bar at the front, which looked to have every kind of hooch known to man, and a couple of homemade ones.

  April was stationed at the door collecting checks for the “donation” that was required to get your dry chicken and soggy green beans. Robert and Kelly were at the front by the stage, spreading the campaign promises like manure in a cornfield. I pointed them out to Aunt Ginny.

  We got in line to question Robert in the guise of greeting him and were stonewalled by Kelly. “What are you doing here?”

  Aunt Ginny raised her voice to be heard by those around us. “We made a donation, young lady. Don’t tell me the congressman doesn’t have a minute to talk to an old lady?”

  Kelly began backpedaling as fast as her Jimmy Choos would take her. Matching Aunt Ginny’s volume, she tried to sound light but her voice came out high-pitched and tight. “Of course! The congressman always has time for his constituents of all ages.” Then she growled at me, “You are not here to make another scene, are you?”

  “No, of course not. We’re supporters of Robert’s campaign.”

  Robert was shaking Aunt Ginny’s hand, but he was devouring Sawyer with his eyes. She was dressed pretty simply in a short-sleeved navy blue dress with white polka dots and a flared skirt. It was Donna Reed without the pearls and Robert was all but drooling.

  Kelly noticed, and the irritation showed on her face.

  “So Kelly, what are your plans when the election is over?”

  “What? I don’t know yet. Consulting? Maybe go back to event planning. Why?”

  “I was just wondering if you had a position in Robert’s staff if he won.”

  “We’ve talked about it but haven’t really decided anything.” She took Robert’s arm and gave him a pointed look. He let go of Sawyer’s hand that he had been holding for far too long and gave Kelly a vacant smile. “I’m sorry. We need to keep the line moving.”

  “Hey, one more thing. My aunt was thinking about making a large donation to the congressman’s campaign. She was so saddened by his recent loss, what with Barbie dying so suddenly and not because of me at all, that she was thinking about matching her donation to the amount of Barbie’s life insurance.”

  “Oh, that’s very . . . generous. But why the life insurance?”

  “Robert’s speech moved us how it was Barbie’s last wish that he carry on if anything happened to her. Such devotion.”

  “Mm-hmm, right.”

  “And we want to honor Barbie’s memory. Whatever she donated to the campaign, through her life insurance, Aunt Ginny wants to match it.”

  Kelly looked over to Aunt Ginny, who was now drinking a free cocktail and schmoozing the reporter from the Star. Aunt Ginny threw her head back and laughed, then looked at Kelly and waved.

  “Well, Barbie didn’t donate anything to the campaign. Her life insurance went into trust for Tiffany, her daughter.”

  “All of it?”

  “All twenty-five thousand. She didn’t have that much.”

  “We had assumed she had a much larger policy. Aunt Ginny will be so disappointed.”

  “No one expects to die in their forties. I guess life insurance wasn’t a priority to her. But don’t let that stop you from honoring her memory by donating to the campaign. Robert would be so honored to have your aunt on his tea
m. We’ve had our eye on a TV spot.”

  “You know what, I’ve been hogging you this whole time. Just look at the line of people behind me. I don’t want to be selfish. We’ll talk.”

  I grabbed Sawyer away from Robert and we caught up with Aunt Ginny to fill her in.

  Kelly was whispering something to Robert and he was nodding. She had him by the elbow and introduced him to the next person in line.

  “I don’t get it,” Sawyer said. “One minute he’s asking me up to his hotel room and the next he’s all over Kelly.”

  “He asked you to his hotel room?”

  Sawyer wrinkled her nose and gave me a frown.

  “What did you say to him?” Aunt Ginny asked.

  “I was stunned so I said, ‘I was a friend of your wife.’”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said his wife didn’t have any friends.”

  I looked back at the door we entered through and noticed April was alone. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked over to the front podium and April gave me a big smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hello.”

  “How did your nails turn out?”

  She squinted at me. “Pardon?”

  “Your nails.” I flashed my hand. “Did you get them done?”

  Understanding dawned. “Oh, shhh. I don’t want anyone to know about that.”

  I whispered back, “I understand. Bosses can be such a drag. Am I right?”

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

  “Yours seem to be pretty flirty with each other too. What’s the deal there?”

  April looked up at the stage where Kelly had her hand on Robert’s back. “Let’s just say, some of us have better compensation packages than others.”

  “Don’t you think it’s kind of surprising since his wife just died so recently?”

  April straightened up and suddenly looked very nervous. “You’re not with the press, are you? You’re required to tell me.”

  “What, me? No way. I’m only here because my grandmother wanted to come.” I pointed to Aunt Ginny, who was drinking another free cocktail and dancing what looked like the Charleston.

  April was satisfied with our lack of professionalism. “Just between you and me, I’m pretty sure it started before she died. I mean she was a real bi-otch. Everyone hated it when she came into campaign HQ. Including Congressman Clark. He used to play Kool & the Gang’s ‘Celebration’ every time she left as a signal for us to come down off of high alert. He’s really pretty cool like that.”

  “Can I have your attention please? If you’ll all take your seats, Congressman Clark would like to say a few words.”

  The speech was pretty much a copy of the one from the memorial with a few campaign promises thrown in.

  Somewhere between better schools and lower taxes, Aunt Ginny forgot where we were, mistakenly thought she was in a nightclub, and wandered up onstage during Robert’s speech to put a fiver in his waistband.

  “Why, thank you! This gives me an idea for another fundraiser.”

  The room cheered for his quick thinking. Aunt Ginny thought the cheers were for her and tried to go back onstage, but I grabbed her by the waist.

  “Oh, no you don’t.”

  “But I forgot to get change.”

  When the speech was over, Robert approached me and I thought he was coming to kick us out. Then he grabbed my hand and handed me a key from the El Dorado Motel—Room 4. “Give this to your friend.”

  In light of Aunt Ginny’s antics I asked, “Which one?”

  Robert leered at Sawyer and winked. It was time to go.

  I drove Bessie and Aunt Ginny home and made us some coffee in the French press.

  Aunt Ginny had her forehead resting on the table. “How many of those cocktails did I have?”

  “I counted at least four.”

  “I used to be able to hold my liquor better.”

  That was probably true. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the “cocktails” were nonalcoholic. She’d stuffed cash in a congressman’s underwear “drunk” on fruit juice and ginger ale.

  Chapter 37

  Aunt Ginny had bet me that Mick Jagger was in his seventies and still touring and I said no way. I lost the bet. Now we’re going to Zumba.

  Aunt Ginny was waiting for me downstairs in bright orange sweat pants and a lime-green T-shirt. She had matching lime-green athletic shoes on.

  I dressed in my go-to black yoga pants and a black tank top. Then I decided to live a little and changed into a pink tank top. Then I felt self-conscious and put the black one back on. I chastised myself that I was done living with body shame and put the pink one back on again.

  By the time we got to Zumba I was too tired from getting dressed to work out, but Aunt Ginny insisted that she’d won fair and square and I was going to “shake it.”

  The workout was all Latin music and hip shaking and stomping. Out of all the exercises I had tried, this was definitely my favorite. But then maybe I just had more energy from better eating and sleeping this week. In fact, I hadn’t had insomnia once since coming to New Jersey. My days were too full of activity, mostly trying to stay out of jail, but we were making headway. If anything, we had too many suspects.

  Joel, Kristen, Coach Wilcott. Hey. I think that’s Mrs. Wilcott on the other side of the room. I tried to shimmy across the room in time with the music.

  “Mrs. Wilcott?” I asked while doing a fast box step.

  She answered me while doing a body roll. “I used to be. Who wants to know?”

  “Poppy McAllister. I used to be in your twelfth-grade English class.”

  She did some fist pumps to the music and shook her shoulders. “What can I do for you?”

  We were back to the body roll. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  More fist pumps. “You can ask.”

  Two steps to the right. “It’s about Coach Wilcott.” Two steps to the left. “Is he in any kind of trouble that you know of?”

  Two steps to the right. “What kind of trouble?” Two steps to the left.

  Body roll. “There are rumors that he may have been mixed up in something with Barbie Clark, the cheerleading coach.” Double foot stomp.

  Mrs. Wilcott grabbed a towel and wiped her face off. “Why are you asking?”

  “He’s being implicated in her murder and I’m trying to find out the truth.”

  “No way. Charlie wouldn’t hurt anyone. He doesn’t have it in him.”

  “Did he say anything to you about problems with Coach Clark? Meetings with her?”

  “Nothing to me. But we mostly talk about alimony payments and maintenance on the house.”

  “Was there anything unusual about his behavior at all?”

  She tilted her head to the side and thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, he did say that he was having some money problems and he’s been late with my alimony checks for the past few months.”

  “Do you know why he was having money problems?”

  “He didn’t say. But it was something that really shook him up. He seemed scared. Charlie was not a go-getter. His only motivation was on the basketball court. It’s one of the things that caused our marriage to end. Whatever it was, Charlie was not the initiator of it.”

  “Are you aware that Coach Wilcott has an arrest record?”

  She paused. “I am. But how are you?”

  “Apparently, he was arrested during school hours. The students think it gives him ‘street cred.’”

  Mrs. Wilcott began to pack up her bag. “Charlie is a good guy. He just has some issues.”

  “Issues that would get him arrested?”

  “Look, it’s nothing I can talk about, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  She picked up her Zumba gear and darted around me.

  Well, that was pointless. I collected Aunt Ginny from the juice bar, where she was drinking something tall and green, and we headed home. When we pulled up to the house, we could
see something sitting on the front porch.

  “What is that?” Aunt Ginny asked.

  I got out of the car. It looked like a bouquet of flowers.

  “Maybe it’s from Tim.”

  “I bet you’re right. Men usually send flowers after a date when they want to see you again.”

  I felt myself getting excited. I picked up the pretty white flowers and breathed deeply. There was something familiar about the scent. Then I turned on the porch light and froze. My heart started thumping in my chest and my hands started to shake.

  “What’s wrong?” Aunt Ginny came over to get a closer look at the bouquet.

  “Those aren’t from Tim.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he wouldn’t leave a note that says ‘Back off or you’re next.’”

  Chapter 38

  “I will knock someone flatter than a flitter!” Aunt Ginny snatched the note off the plant. “No one comes after my family!”

  I tried to will myself to go call the police and report the harassment, but I just stood there staring at the note.

  Someone was actually threatening to kill me. And I had no idea who it was.

  “Poppy. Poppy Blossom! Snap out of it!” Aunt Ginny was holding the phone out to me. “We’re calling the cops.”

  “But what if they send Amber? She could just spin this as more evidence against me.”

  “Then tell them to send someone else.”

  I dialed 911 and reported an imminent death threat.

  “No, there is no assailant right in front of me. No, I am not being held captive. Yes, I’ll hold.”

  “Officer Rogers speaking.”

  Oh, thank God. I told the officer what was going on and he said he’d be right over. Aunt Ginny and I went into the library to wait. After about twenty minutes of rage pacing, Aunt Ginny went to make us some tea. Finally the doorbell rang.

  I was flooded with relief until I threw the door open to find Officer Amber. She was out of uniform and dressed for a social visit in jeans and a Phillies jersey.

  “What happened to Officer Rogers?”

  “He alerted me to your ‘threat,’ and I said I would come check it out since I’m the lead on the case.”