Second Honeymoons Can Be Murder (A Baby Boomer Mystery Book 6)

by Susan Santangelo

  The rational part of me (the part I never listen to) told me that this whole thing had been an accident, pure and simple. Paul’s initial reaction was instinctive, and he had no idea that Mark was standing so close behind him.

  The other part of me suggested that this could be my only chance, ever, to get back at Paul a little for all the angst he’d put me through at every opportunity. I don’t need to tell you which part won, do I?

  Well, if you’re thinking my evil side, you’d be wrong. I decided to find some middle ground—to make Paul sweat, just a little, while offering him some emotional support at the same time. Not an easy decision. But with my inadvertent forays into crime-solving SJR (that would be, Since Jim’s Retirement) in the fair town of Fairport, I figured I’d better stay on Paul’s good side, assuming I could find it.

  “Please don’t blame yourself, Paul,” I said. “You certainly didn’t mean for Mark to fall. It’s not like you pushed him deliberately, after all.”

  I thought for a minute, then added, “I don’t know anything about police procedures, but I don’t understand why you didn’t try to disarm the perp. Is that what you called him? Instead of backing up and going for your gun, I mean.”

  No kidding. I didn’t understand that. Although, if I were ever faced with a similar situation (please God, don’t ever let me be), I’d probably turn around and run away as fast as I could. At least, Paul hadn’t done that.

  Paul looked even more miserable. “I acted instinctively. Not professionally. I could have taken him down easily. And you want to know the worst part of all?”

  “Only if you want to tell me, Paul. I’m not using rubber hoses to make you talk.” Then, I clapped my hands over my mouth. Paul and I were bonding, and I had ruined it by my smart aleck remark.

  Paul smiled a little. “I know you’re not, Carol. And for the record, we don’t use rubber hoses anymore. Our budget’s been cut.”

  I smiled back. Who knew that underneath that height-challenged exterior lurked a sense of humor just waiting for the right moment to show itself?

  “The worst part is,” Paul said, “the guy didn’t have a real knife at all. I was wrong. It was a kid’s toy.”

  As I started to respond, Paul’s phone sprang to life. He took one look at the screen and jumped to his feet. “I have to leave. Tell Mark I’m pulling for him. And, Carol, one more thing.” He fixed me with the beady stare I’d come to know far too well.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t you dare repeat what I told you to anyone else. I know what a blabbermouth you are.” And he stalked away.

  Well, the idea! Any shred of compassion I had previously felt for Paul vanished in a flash of anger and humiliation. It was time to join my family. Jenny needed the strength and support that only her mother could give to her. But when I looked around the hospital cafeteria, I realized that Jenny and Jim had left without me.

  So much for family solidarity.

  Chapter 18

  I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me all at once.

  If you know me well, you know that I never, ever, feel sorry for myself. Even if a loved one (not mentioning anyone by name, understand) should hurt my feelings, make fun of me, or criticize me in any way. I just let that behavior roll right off my back. I never hold a grudge, either. Forgive and forget, that’s what I always say. And the older I get, the easier the forgetting part seems to be.

  So you’ll be surprised when I admit to you that I was a little miffed (well, a lot miffed) that Jim and Jenny had chosen to abandon me in the hospital cafeteria without a word. As a matter of fact, it seemed more and more like Jim was becoming Jenny’s go-to parent of choice in this situation. Not that this was a competition. No way. But, still….

  Good sport and model parent that I am (remember the part about how I never carry a grudge), I rummaged in my purse for my glasses and phone, and sent Jenny a quick text.

  Me: R u back in Mark’s room? All okay?

  Jenny: Docs releasing him now. Going home!

  Me: Yay! Is Dad there?

  Jenny: Yup. Driving us home.

  Me: Will be there soon. Love u.

  Jenny: Love u 2.

  Well, that explained a lot. Jenny must have gotten a text from the doctor and rushed off to her husband’s side, with her father trailing behind her. They probably didn’t take the time to look for me, which was perfectly understandable under the circumstances. Except, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jim was trying, in his own subtle way, to one-up me for my valuable input at yesterday’s television show planning meeting.

  Nah. He’d never be that devious. He’d just come straight out and yell at me, and after we made up last night, that seemed like a stretch. Even for me.

  I sat in the cafeteria and considered my options as I nursed my now-cold coffee. (I figured that was an appropriate activity—my being in a hospital, after all.)

  It looked like all was calm on the home front, thank God. In my son-in-law’s chosen profession, the possibility of being hurt was always part of the job, so, thank goodness Mark hadn’t been seriously hurt. I wondered if I could steer him into another career. Not that I ever interfere in the lives of my children. Or my child-in-law. In fact, I was betting that if there was an award for “Mother-In-Law of the Year,” I’d win it for sure.

  My cell phone pinged again. I rummaged for my glasses one more time, praying it wasn’t bad news about Mark. I’d read somewhere that head wounds are tricky, and unexpected complications are always possible.

  OMG. This text was from my husband.

  Jim: All okay here. Don’t panic.

  Me: ???

  Jim: Mark’s resting. Jenny’s keeping a close eye on him. No need for u to come.

  Me: Good news, but r u sure I shouldn’t stop in?!

  Jim: No need. I’m leaving now. Headed to NYC for tv show meeting with Mack.

  Me: When? Me, too?

  Jim: No. Just me.

  Me: Why not me?

  Jim: Not sure. C u later.

  And the screen went black. Just like that. Not only were my services as a mother not needed, I guess my brief foray into television was over, too. It looked like I’d been fired from my new job before I even started it.

  Chapter 19

  I’m a real team player. Just as long as I’m the captain.

  “Well, what exactly did you expect?” I asked myself on the ride home from the hospital. “You were way out of line at the production meeting yesterday. I bet you ticked off the entire staff of Charles King Productions with your high-handed suggestions. If you’re really fired, you have nothing but your own big, unfiltered mouth to blame.” My vision was briefly obstructed by a flood of tears. Yes, I’d decided to throw myself a full-blown pity party, and there was no time like the present to get the party started.

  “And then, to make matters even worse, you weren’t there for your very own daughter when she needed you. You really are a jerk!”

  I screamed the last sentence so loud that the driver who was idling at the traffic light in the next lane looked over at me with alarm. “Sorry,” I mouthed to him. “Got a little carried away.” He nodded and sped off. I’m sure he couldn’t wait to get away from me. Just like everybody else in my life.

  Except for Lucy and Ethel, of course. “They’re always there for you,” I reassured myself. “They love you unconditionally, and are completely non-judgmental. Especially when you give them extra biscuits. I bet they’ll both be thrilled to hear that Jim and I aren’t going to Florida, after all. Well, maybe Jim is, but I’m sure not. We couldn’t have taken them with us, and it’s not fair to put them in a kennel.

  “This really is for the best,” I lied to myself as I neared Old Fairport Turnpike. “Jim can go to Florida, and I can stay here and take care of my family. Maybe even give Jenny and Mark a gentle nudge into the baby-production process, without Jim telling me to mind my own business.”

  I nodded in satisfaction. That was a perfect plan.


  “But it would have been wonderful to see Mike,” I countered. Sometimes I hate talking to myself. I always see too many sides to the same issue, which confuses me to no end.

  “Your television career was fun while it lasted,” I insisted. “Even if it was only for twenty-four hours. Wasn’t it Andy Warhol who said everyone was entitled to fifteen minutes of fame?” I frowned. “Or maybe that was Andy Rooney. Anyhow, you had way more than that, and reconnecting with Charlie was a bonus. Except he probably thinks you’re a doofus, too. After all, he’s the chief honcho of The Second Honeymoon Game. If you’re really fired, it must have been his decision.”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. What’s important is that Mark’s going to be okay, Jim’s going back to work, and I’ll have my freedom back, even if it’s only for a little while. Just like the good old days.”

  I turned the corner onto Old Fairport Turnpike and was shocked to see a Silver Cloud Rolls Royce in front of my house, blocking my driveway. Nancy’s BMW was parked right behind it.

  I pulled over to the curb and beeped the horn. That Nancy, honestly. She never thinks about anyone but herself. And the nerve of her, to arrange a meeting with a big bucks real estate client in front of my house. Why didn’t she use her own office, for heaven’s sake? That’s what offices are for!

  In a flash, the driver was out of the Rolls Royce and opened the passenger door. Who should emerge, looking like the proverbial cat who swallowed the canary, but my BFF Nancy? The driver was none other than our grade school classmate and media mogul, Charlie King.

  Resisting the urge to rear-end Nancy’s BMW took some restraint, let me tell you. But I managed. Points for me, right? But I was seething. How the heck had Nancy managed to contact Charlie and arrange a meeting with him so fast? We’d only had coffee together a few hours ago. Although, with all that had transpired since then, it felt like years.

  I stuck my head out my car window and said, in my sweetest voice, “What a lovely surprise, finding you two here. But would you mind moving your cars up just a teeny bit? I can’t get into my driveway.”

  Charlie flashed me an apologetic grin. “Sorry, Carol. I should have been more careful. I’m not used to driving a car myself. I usually have someone else do it. But I just got this new beauty, and decided to take it for a spin. Just give me a minute.” He hopped back into the Rolls.

  Nancy gave me a bright smile. “Are you surprised?”

  “That’s one word for it,” I said. “What the heck are you up to?”

  “Why do you assume I’m up to something?” Nancy said, widening her eyes in a pretense of innocence.

  “Maybe because I know you so well,” I said. “What are you trying to do? Sell Charlie a house? How did you find him so fast?”

  “I Googled him, of course,” said Nancy. “And when I reached him, he was already on his way here to see you. So I said I’d meet him here, too. What’s your problem with that?”

  Put like that, I guess I didn’t have a problem. At least, not one that if I said it out loud, wouldn’t make me look like a spoiled two-year-old who was whining because she didn’t want to share her toys.

  “Well, the house isn’t clean,” I said, “and there are probably breakfast dishes in the sink. I wasn’t expecting company. I know you’re not really company,” I said as Nancy started to object, “but Charlie certainly is. And you know I like everything to be perfect when I’m entertaining.”

  Nancy raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at that ridiculous statement, and I burst out laughing. It was impossible for me to stay mad at her. “At least let me go into the house first,” I said. “Just in case Lucy and Ethel have been up to some mischief while I was gone. Follow me into the driveway. I don’t want your BMW to distract any neighbors, especially Phyllis Stevens, from drooling over the Rolls Royce while trying to figure out why it’s parked in front of my house.”

  In a flash, I was in the kitchen. I gathered up Jim’s dirty coffee cup and plate (the man simply will not clean up after himself) and hid them in the dishwasher without rinsing them first. I was breaking one of my cardinal rules, but I was in a time crunch.

  “Now, you two behave,” I said to the dogs, tossing each one of them a biscuit. “No growling because a strange man is here. I don’t need any protection, thank you. He’s an old friend.”

  Lucy gave me a suspicious look. Ethel merely yawned.

  “No, really, he is,” I insisted to Lucy. “Your pal Nancy is here, too. It’s all good.” At least, I hope it is. Lucy wagged her stubby tail in approval at the female name, while Ethel yawned again.

  The front doorbell rang, which threw me off. For a second, I thought I had even more company, but then I realized that Nancy wanted to usher Charlie into my house the “official” way, as opposed to using the kitchen door—the way she always does. For a second, I worried that she was going to try and sell Charlie my house, then told myself I was really being stupid.

  Lucy and Ethel raced ahead of me and got to the door first. It’s hard to stop two enthusiastic English cocker spaniels from running outside and still appear to be a gracious hostess, but I did my best. Fortunately, Nancy’s wise to the dogs’ escape tactics and helped me block the door.

  Charlie bent down and embraced them both. “Aren’t you two beauties? Yes, you are.” He ruffled their ears.

  Lucy checked out Charlie and, I swear, it was love at first sniff. In fact, it was almost embarrassing the way she flung herself at him. Ethel rolled over on her back, begging for a tummy rub. Lord, this was way over the top. I’d never seen the dogs react this way to anyone else before. Even Jim.

  I grabbed them by their collars. “You’ll have to excuse them,” I said. “They’ve forgotten their manners. That’s enough, girls.”

  I heard Nancy snicker. She knows who really runs the Andrews house, and that they have four legs each, not two.

  “I don’t mind at all, Carol,” Charlie said. “I love dogs. My wife and I had two Springer Spaniels. These two look a lot like them. What breed are they?”

  “They’re English cocker spaniels,” I said. “Emphasis on the word English. They’re very different from the American cockers. Just look at their heads. They’re not square, like the Americans.”

  “They really look like smaller Springers,” Charlie said, “and they’re much more handsome than the Americans. I never knew there were two different types of cocker breeds.”

  I beamed. I couldn’t help it. I just love my dogs. And Charlie was right; English cockers are much more handsome. Or, in the case of Lucy and Ethel, more beautiful. Both my dogs are very sensitive to gender classification.

  I’d been so fixated on Nancy’s showing up with Charlie that it didn’t hit me right away to wonder why he was here, even though Nancy’s powers of persuasion are impressive. After all, if he was going to fire me, he wouldn’t have to do it in person, right? An email or text would have done the job. Maybe his being here was good news for me after all.

  I immediately switched into gracious hostess mode. Imagine Leave It to Beaver’s mom, June Cleaver, in sweat pants with an elastic waistband instead of a frilly apron and pearls, and you’ll get the picture. “Let’s all go into the kitchen,” I said, heading toward the rear of the house behind the two dogs. “I’ll make a pot of fresh coffee. I’d love to have you stay for lunch.” Assuming there’s something in the house to eat.

  “I picked up some lunch for us at Maria’s Trattoria,” Nancy said. “I figured it was the least I could do, since Charlie and I arrived unannounced.” She beamed at Charlie. “You may not remember this from grammar school, but I was voted ‘Most Domestic’ in eighth grade.”

  Nancy’s statement was so over-the-top ridiculous that I was surprised her nose didn’t start to grow longer. (Pinocchio was one of our favorite fairy tales when we were kids.) I didn’t call her out on it, though. If Nancy wanted to present herself as Harriet Nelson to my June Cleaver, I’d go right along with her. But I couldn’t resist turning
my face directly at her and rolling my eyes, which made Nancy blush. “I’ll just buzz out to my car and bring in lunch,” she said, recovering quickly. “I’ll be right back.” She shot me a dirty look on her way out, but I ignored it, good pal that I am.

  “You have a beautiful home, Carol,” Charlie said, pulling out a chair and making himself comfy at my kitchen table. “I remember delivering newspapers on this block when I was a kid. I always wondered what one of these antique houses looked like inside.”

  “Jim and I have lived here for over thirty years,” I said. “He’s not home at the moment, though. I know he’ll be sorry to have missed you.”

  “I know,” Charlie said. “He’s at a marketing meeting with Mack about The Second Honeymoon Game. I arranged that. I wanted to talk to you privately, without your husband overhearing us. I have a proposition for you, and I hope you’ll say yes. For old times’ sake.”

  Chapter 20

  Forget about the “new normal.” My life’s the “old abnormal.”

  Charlie followed his provocative remark with a wink and a big grin. I could tell that he was enjoying my reaction, which was a combination of shock and curiosity, mixed with a healthy dose of terror. I never was any good at hiding my feelings.

  Maybe Charlie’s been nursing an unrequited passion for you all these years, Carol. Naming his daughter after you was just the tip of the iceberg. Now he’s going to declare his feelings, force you to leave Jim, and run away with him. It’s a good thing Nancy’s coming right back. He wouldn’t dare sweep you away in front of a witness. Would he?