Fat-Free and Fatal (A Kate Jasper Mystery)

by Girdner, Jaqueline

  I led the party into the house with a gracious smile on my lips and very ungracious thoughts on my mind.

  Thirty minutes later they were all gone. I couldn’t tell you exactly what they had talked about. Vacations, gardening, the weather. As I sat down at my desk again, I realized I had no idea why the twins had come by. Or Iris, for that matter. My back stiffened. Why had Iris visited?

  I was still trying to figure it out when I picked Barbara up that evening to go to class. “Why do you suppose Iris came by?” I asked her.

  “She’s probably just investigating,” she replied reasonably as we got on the highway to San Ricardo. “We visited her when we investigated.”

  “I guess so,” I said slowly, unconvinced.

  “Iris wouldn’t kill anyone,” Barbara added. “She’s too much of a lady.”

  “Strangling is a fairly ladylike form of murder as murders go,” I argued, an unfortunate image entering my mind, an image of Iris wearing a clean pair of white gloves as she wrapped a white cord around Sheila Snyder’s neck and twisted it. My stomach did a back flip.

  “I hope Meg’s gonna give us some food tonight,” Barbara said, blithely changing the subject.

  “I just hope we’re going to live through tonight,” I countered.

  “Kate!” Barbara objected and lectured me about positive thinking until we reached the Good Thyme Cafe.

  The CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE sign was still in the restaurant window. But there was another familiar sign back on the door, reading “Welcome, Vegetarian Cooking Class Tonight.”

  Barbara pushed the door open energetically. I followed her in, thinking woefully negative thoughts.

  Most of the chairs were still upended atop the tables in the dining room. But ten or twelve had been set right-side up and placed around two tables that had been shoved together in the center of the room. Three women and a tall, thin black man stood by the tables. I shivered. They were the same four people who had stood waiting for us the first night of class.

  “Hi, you guys!” Alice called out. Her heart-shaped face was as friendly as ever as she jogged toward us, her high heels tapping on the floor. She looked completely relaxed and unafraid. I wondered why. My whole body was stiff and tight with fear.

  “Dynamite outfit,” Barbara told her.

  Alice giggled and did a model’s turn to show off her slinky plum-colored jumpsuit. “The lines take off about ten pounds,” she whispered.

  I smiled in spite of myself. Here I was, worried to death about murder, and Alice was still worried about her weight.

  “Yo, Meg!” Alice shouted. “Come and say hello.”

  Meg Quilter was living proof that there was such a thing as too thin. I considered and rejected the idea of pointing this out to Alice as Meg shuffled our way, looking like an anorexic teenager in a white cotton blouse and baggy gray pants. Her silky blond hair was pulled back and stuffed into a plastic barrette.

  “Hello,” she mumbled. She looked up for a moment, her sea-green eyes large in her pale, freckled face. I caught a glimpse of the lines radiating from the corners of those eyes, lines marking her as an adult. She lowered her gaze. At least someone has the sense not to be cheerful, I told myself.

  “Tell Kate and Barbara about the food you made for tonight,” Alice prodded Meg.

  “Oh, just some more appetizers,” she mumbled.

  “Meg never does herself justice,” a new voice declared from behind us. I turned and saw Paula Pierce, stocky and severe in a navy blue business suit. She frowned. “Meg’s a talented woman,” she reminded us. “A very good artist.”

  “And very modest,” Gary said softly. He smiled a kind, reassuring smile. Then he put his long arm around Paula’s shoulders. “Unlike some of us,” he added.

  A quick grin appeared on Paula’s face, then disappeared again just as quickly. “Aren’t you going to collect the money tonight?” she asked Alice abruptly.

  “Oh, yeah,” Alice said, her face crumpled with thought for a moment. Then she laughed. “I almost forgot. Let me go get my checklist.”

  Once she was gone, Paula leaned toward us. “Any progress?” she demanded brusquely.

  “Not really—” I began.

  “We’ve found out a whole bunch of interesting stuff,” Barbara interrupted. “We’ll talk later,” she added in a whisper.

  Paula nodded solemnly. Barbara winked at her. I controlled the urge to scream at Barbara. She might as well have put signs around our necks saying, “We know who the murderer is. Kill us.” Meanwhile, Gary and Meg just stared.

  “So,” I said to Paula, trying to think of a neutral subject. “How are your dogs doing?”

  “My dogs?” she repeated, her eyebrows rising. I should have asked about the weather.

  “They’re probably ripping apart the living room as we speak,” Gary answered, his voice soft with amusement. “Paula can never turn down a stray. Canine or human.”

  I smiled at Gary gratefully. He smiled back for a moment, then turned away. I tried to think of something else to say as my own smile ebbed. Meanwhile, Gary fished around in his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a crystal. At least he was set for the evening. Paula continued frowning, and Meg studied her feet.

  “I have a cat, myself,” I threw out desperately.

  But nobody caught the conversational ball. My armpits dampened with perspiration. I turned to Barbara for help. But she didn’t seem to see me. Her unsmiling face was wrinkled in heavy thought now. I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong.

  The tapping of Alice’s returning heels saved me from asking. Whatever was wrong with Barbara, it probably wasn’t something she wanted to talk about aloud.

  “Okay, you guys,” Alice said with a smile. She shook her notepad in our direction. “It’ll be fifteen dollars each.” It was worth every cent to have someone who could talk back on the scene.

  I was digging through my purse to find the money when the front door swung open. Iris walked in and paused at the doorway, erect and elegant in jade-green silk. There were even what looked like real jade chopsticks poked into her French twist.

  I waved to her, wondering once again why she had been to my house earlier.

  “Well, hello everyone,” she trilled and stepped up to our little group. “It’s so good to be meeting again. So important to go on, don’t you think?”

  We all nodded silently. Let Iris take the conversational burden for a while, I thought as I handed some crumpled bills to Alice. Iris could handle this crowd. Iris could handle any crowd.

  “And such delightful cooking, I must say,” Iris went on with enthusiasm. “Are we in for some more treats tonight?”

  “You bet,” Alice answered as she marked down a check from Paula and cash from a still-frowning Barbara. “Steamed dim sum, stuffed grape leaves, homemade crackers, zucchini relish—”

  “Oh my, it all sounds simply delicious,” interrupted Iris. She turned her gaze on Meg. “How do you find time to do it all?”

  Meg looked up at her for a moment in silence, then blinked and straightened her shoulders. “Organization,” she replied briskly. “Many of the ingredients can be prepared in bulk ahead of time…”

  “Kate,” Alice whispered in my ear. I jumped. I hadn’t noticed the click of her heels behind me.

  “What?” I whispered back.

  Alice jerked her head toward the back of the restaurant as Meg went on about food preparation technique. Iris’s eyes flickered. I was sure she had noticed Alice’s gesture.

  I stood there for a moment holding my breath, wondering if I could ignore Alice. I knew she wanted to talk to me about the murder, but I was much happier listening to a lecture on cooking. She tapped my shoulder and jerked her head again, then walked slowly away, her heels still noisy on the floor. By this time, I was sure that everyone had noticed her.

  I let out my breath in a quiet sigh and followed her. I didn’t even try for nonchalance. I just stomped along behind her until we reached the far wall.


  “So?” she whispered as she turned back to me. Her eyes were wide with something that might have been interest, or excitement. Or even fear.

  I shrugged my shoulders. That wasn’t enough for her.

  “Who is it?” she asked, her whisper a little louder. I watched her as she ran a hand through her glossy black hair, and wondered if she was “it.” She had motive and opportunity. She had set up the class—

  “You can tell me,” she breathed, bending close enough to me that I could smell the minty aroma of her breath. I could even see the gray eyeliner that traced her eyelids and the tiny clumps of mascara on her lashes.

  “I don’t know who it is,” I whispered back.

  Her eyes narrowed, wrinkling the gray eyeliner. She tapped her foot, still staring at me. I stared back. After a heartbeat or two, her face softened. She smiled again.

  “Really?” she asked, tilting her head.

  “Really,” I assured her.

  She gave my shoulder a little pat and seemed about to say something. Then her gaze focused on something behind me. I swiveled my head around to see what had drawn her attention. Ken and Leo had arrived.

  “Hello, ladies,” Leo greeted the group still standing near the door. His smiled was lopsided tonight, his eyelids drooping in a drowsy leer.

  In greeting the ladies, Leo seemed to have missed a gentleman. Had he mistaken Gary for a woman? Maybe. Even from here, Leo looked drunk enough. His short, pear-shaped body was swaying in place as he stood. He lifted a hand to his face and managed to poke himself in the eye with a stray finger.

  “Whoa,” he muttered and brought his hand down to his beard. He gave it a slow stroke.

  “Dad,” Ken burst out shrilly. “Why don’t you sit down?”

  “Leo,” his father corrected him, his voice low and sleepy. “Call me Leo, good buddy.” But he didn’t resist as Ken led him to a chair and sat him down at the table.

  “Such a shame when a man lets himself drink to excess,” Iris’s clear voice rang out.

  No one argued with her. The room was filled with silent disapproval. Meg, Paula and Barbara gazed unsmilingly at Leo. Leo’s head slumped forward, his long dark hair spilling into his face for a moment. Gary averted his eyes.

  “Whoa,” Leo said again and jerked his head up.

  “Dad’ll be all right,” Ken insisted, his voice even shriller now. He glared at Iris through his thick glasses. “He just had some wine, that’s all. He has a bad heart, you know.”

  My own heart squeezed. I wondered how many times he had felt the need to defend his father before. And how many times he would again.

  Even Iris softened. “Such a good son,” she said warmly. “So kind of you to take care of your father.” She clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “You’re Ken Hermann, aren’t you? I’m Iris Neville. I met you years ago, when you were just a boy.”

  Ken goggled at her for a moment, then seemed to remember his manners. “Oh,” he mumbled and shuffled toward her with his hand held out. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you before.”

  “No, no. Don’t give it a thought,” trilled Iris, shaking his hand. “And how is your dear mother, Louise?”

  “Okay,” Ken said. He dropped Iris’s hand and began massaging his knuckles.

  I turned my head back to Alice. I knew he’d be popping those knuckles soon.

  “I’m betting on Leo,” Alice whispered with a wink. Then she strode back to the tables in the center of the room. I muffled a sigh and followed her.

  “Okay, folks,” she announced enthusiastically, flashing a big master-of-ceremonies smile. “It looks like we’re all here. A few of you still owe us your fifteen dollars. So, pay up. Then we’ll get this show on the road.”

  Ken obediently reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a checkbook. Iris opened her purse.

  “Why doesn’t everyone just take a seat?” Alice continued. “Then Meg will begin—”

  She broke off abruptly and turned to face the hallway that led to the kitchen, pantry and rest rooms. She wasn’t smiling anymore. I turned too, wondering what she saw. Then I heard the voices. It wasn’t what she saw, I realized. It was what she heard. Men’s voices, moving toward us.

  “Hey, it’ll be cool,” said one of them, high with excitement. “Really cool.”

  “One of those fuckers killed her,” said the second deeper voice.

  Dan Snyder. I guessed before I could see him.

  Then he emerged from the hallway, big and burly as ever in jeans and a T-shirt, his curly black hair wild. He squinted out at the people gathered in the dining room. It was not a friendly look. My stomach tightened.

  Another man stepped around to his side, a tall, thin man with protuberant eyeballs. I recognized him from the Monday before. He was Dan’s friend Zach. He looked at us and grinned. A big, goofy, stoned grin. That grin scared me even more than Dan’s glare. The skin on my arms prickled into goose bumps.

  Iris didn’t seem to be afraid, though.

  “You must be Mr. Snyder,” she sang out, smiling graciously. “Such a…”

  Dan focused his glare on her. Her smile faded along with her words.

  Zach giggled into the silence.

  “Dan,” Alice whispered and trotted toward him, her heels tapping all the way. She extended an arm as she reached him. He raised his own arm high in warning. There was something in his hand.

  I took a closer look. It was a gun.

  TWENTY

  “DAN, WHY?” ALICE whispered, her voice hoarse with disbelief. I watched from behind as her extended arm floated slowly down. The back of her head didn’t move at all. I wondered what her eyes looked like. Was she staring at Dan Snyder? Or maybe at the gun he held?

  “What are you trying to do?” she asked finally, her voice a little stronger. “Why are you here?”

  “Don’t worry,” Dan told her, his own voice gentle for a moment. “I know what I’m doing.” He even reached out for her, then seemed to remember the gun in his hand. His voice hardened. “Get back, Alice,” he ordered brusquely. “Sit down.”

  But Alice remained standing, the back of her head still unmoving. Dan squinted at her angrily.

  Zach emitted another high-pitched giggle. Nausea rose from my stomach into my throat. I turned to look at Zach as he rocked on his heels, grinning. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then giggled again. I took a deep breath. He was stoned all right. But on what? His eyes looked like boiled eggs, even more protuberant than I had remembered from the time before. Were his pupils dilated? It was hard to tell from here, but I thought so. And his nose was red. Was cocaine his drug of choice?

  “I told you to sit down!” Dan shouted. I jerked my gaze back to him. He was the one with the gun. Who cared what drug Zach was on.

  “Alice, do it now!” Dan shouted again. He raised his gun arm and pointed it at her head.

  Alice’s body went rigid. As she turned, I saw that her face was shiny with tears, mascara and eyeliner bleeding from her eyelids. She walked back to the table carefully on stiff legs, almost stumbling once on her high heels. She sat down next to Leo, then sank her wet face into her hands.

  “Okay,” barked Dan. He surveyed the lot of us with angry eyes. I looked closer. His pupils might have been dilated too. “Everyone else, stay where you are.” He lifted the gun again to make his point. “Don’t move.”

  Move? I couldn’t even breathe.

  “One of you fuckers killed my old lady,” he continued. “And I’m going to find out who.”

  He surveyed us once more, very slowly this time. My eyes followed his gaze, and I noticed the rest of the class members for the first time since Dan had pointed his gun at us. Leo looked astonishingly sober, sitting up straight in his chair, his close-set eyes round with fear. Meg’s shoulders were straight too, but her eyes were cool as she stared back at Dan. Ken was goggling as usual and popping his knuckles one by one. Paula Pierce looked angry. Her shoulders were hunched forward, and her mouth was tight with disapp
roval. I shivered for a moment, hoping she wouldn’t tangle with Dan, wouldn’t set him off.

  Paula’s husband, Gary, stood with his eyes half closed as if he were sleepy. But a look at his hand convulsively squeezing his crystal told me he was wide-awake. Barbara looked more puzzled than frightened. I craned my neck to study her face, trying to decipher the message behind her expression. I realized abruptly that Dan Snyder might just flush out his wife’s murderer this way. Everything might be all right after all. This is, if he didn’t shoot one of us in the process. Dan’s gaze landed on Iris. She seemed to grow taller as he looked at her

  “Do you think your mother would approve of what you’re doing?” she asked Dan evenly.

  Dan took a step backward as if she had pushed him. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  “You’re an intelligent man,” Iris went on, her tone friendlier now. “Such a shame to waste—”

  “Who made you God?” Zach demanded. He laughed at his own words, then rattled off some more. “Dan’s got a right, you know. He’s got a right to find out what happened to his old lady. Right? So keep your mouth shut, you old bitch—”

  “Young man,” Iris interrupted him. “I was speaking to Mr. Snyder.” She turned to Dan again. “I’m sure you’re not thinking clearly now,” she said quietly. Dan seemed to be listening to her. His eyes were on her face in any case, his mouth still open. “Grief is such a terrible thing—”

  “Ask her if she killed your old lady,” Zach cut in. He put his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Come on,” he prodded. “That’s what we’re here for. Right?”

  Dan closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes. Zach removed his hand.

  “Did you kill my wife?” Dan asked Iris. He wasn’t shouting anymore. His words were muted, but they shook with tension.

  Iris’s shoulders slumped. “Of course I didn’t kill her,” she murmured.

  Dan stared at her a while longer in the silence. Iris stared back. Finally he nodded, as if he believed her.

  “Dan,” Alice said softly. “Iris is right. This is really stupid—”

  “Be quiet!” Dan shouted, lifting his gun again.