Ditched 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  “Your aunt may not be the wealthiest woman in the world, but apparently Louis Melinsky has money to throw around. They’re having the wedding catered by Saveur de Evangeline, that fancy French restaurant on Bell Road, and if that isn’t enough, they’ve hired La Petite Pâtisserie, from Scottsdale, to provide the desserts.”

  “Where? The invitation didn’t say.”

  “Of course not. Why would Ina bother to let anyone know what’s going on? Apparently they’ve rented out the entire section of that mountain for their reception. Some tent company will be setting up the shindig a few yards past that Petrowhatever Plaza.”

  “And you were worried for nothing, Mom. It sounds like Aunt Ina really organized this.”

  “Loosely.”

  “What do you mean ‘loosely’?”

  “I mean that whenever your aunt arranges something, it’s in the broad sense. Mark my words, Phee, something is bound to go wrong.”

  I didn’t feel like spending the next half hour listening to my mother moan and groan about how “spatial” Aunt Ina was and how my mother was always the one who had to step in and fix everything. I was hot. I was tired. And most of all, I was hungry. Promising to give my mother a call the next day, I hung up and walked into the kitchen.

  All of the fixings for a huge chicken salad were in the fridge and I began to move them onto the counter when the phone rang again.

  Please don’t let it be my mother. What else could she possibly complain about?

  I had a good mind to ignore it and let it go to the answering machine, but if it was my mom, she’d know I was avoiding her. I walked over to the phone and checked the caller ID. Not my mother. Not a familiar number. I decided to let the machine get it when I recognized the voice at the other end.

  “Phee, this is your aunt Ina. Give me a call when you get in. I have the tiniest, teeniest little favor to ask you.”

  I quickly put the mayonnaise and white meat tenders back in the fridge and picked up the receiver. It was the first, in a long series of mistakes, I’d be making.

  “Hi, Aunt Ina. I was . . . um, in the other room when I heard the phone. How are you?”

  “Ooh . . . I’m as fine as any bride-to-be could be. I don’t know how I ever managed the first time around. And as far as your cousin Kirk’s wedding went, well, Judy’s family took care of it. That’s the trouble with getting married late in life—you have to do everything yourself. It’s daunting. That’s the word for it—daunting. Did your mother mention that her friend Shirley was designing a special hat for me for the wedding? It’s too bad she closed down that cute little shop of hers near Sun City. At least she’s taking special orders. I decided on a hat. I do think wearing a veil would be too radical, even for me.”

  In the thirty seconds it took me to put the scallions and kale back in the fridge while cradling the phone, I realized my mother was an amateur blabbermouth compared to Aunt Ina. At this rate, I’d die of starvation. I had to move things along.

  “Um, so . . . Aunt Ina, you mentioned a favor. A small favor. What can I help you out with?” And please let this be a reasonable and normal favor.

  “I don’t know if your mother mentioned it, but the entire affair is going to be catered.”

  “Uh-huh.” I wasn’t sure what she was getting at and I held my breath.

  “You cannot possibly imagine all the odds and ends that have to go into something like this. No wonder people hire a wedding planner.”

  Oh God, no! She’s going to ask me to be her wedding planner!

  “Aunt Ina,” I blurted out, “I don’t know the first thing about planning weddings.”

  “Well, who does, dear? Now, to get to the reason I called you. Louis and I have hired a marvelous pastry company from Scottsdale to provide the desserts. Unfortunately, between the fittings for my gown, the endless bantering over the menu, and those dreadful people at the tent company, we’re at our wits’ end. Phee, can you please meet with Julien at La Petite Pâtisserie to figure out the dessert menu? I would ask your mother, but between you and me, Harriet would select an assortment of Fig Newton cookies and those tasteless sugar-free things she keeps in her freezer. So, will you do it?”

  I didn’t want to sound whiny, but Scottsdale was a good hour from my house, not to mention I had no idea where the pastry company was located. Before I could reply, it was as if my aunt could read my mind.

  “Julien and his assistants will be at the Renaissance Hotel in Glendale on Thursday for some sort of evening exhibition. That’s only a half hour from your house. You can meet him there. I’ll call him immediately to let him know. You will do it? Won’t you, Phee?”

  I wavered for a second but finally caved.

  “Yes, I’ll do it. What about the wedding cake? Is Julien making that, too?”

  “Louis and I decided not to do a wedding cake. Too mundane. That’s why the desserts have to be spectacular. And one more thing, Phee.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t tell your mother or the pièce de résistance for my wedding will resemble the potluck dessert table at one of her card games.”

  She thanked me at least three times before hanging up. I had suddenly lost my appetite for chicken salad and opted instead for popcorn and an O’Doul’s. I spent the rest of the evening Googling wedding desserts and chastising myself for answering the stupid phone.

  Chapter 2

  “You’ll never guess what I got myself roped into doing this week,” I said to my boss the next morning as we waited for the Keurig to finish brewing. “I might as well just blurt it out—I’m going to be selecting gourmet pastries for my aunt Ina’s wedding.”

  “Lucky you. I’m going to be investigating the suspicious death of a man who appeared to have fallen off his golf cart, landing on some nasty river rocks.”

  “That sounds a heck of a lot more interesting than what I’m stuck with.”

  “It wasn’t so interesting when I found out about it first thing in the morning. I had just put one leg into my pants when the phone rang and I reached for it. Like an idiot, I fell forward and hit my head on the end table.”

  Then, to prove his point, he brushed his thick gray hair away from his forehead, revealing a small gash.

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, tell me about your aunt Ina. I’ve got a few minutes before I have to take off.”

  “My aunt Ina is my mother’s only sister. The two of them invented sibling rivalry. Ina moved to Sun City Grand almost a year ago to be closer to some guy she got to know, and subsequently fell in love with, at a sweat lodge in Tucson. A sweat lodge! Anyway, that guy is about to be my future uncle.”

  “What does your mother have to say about that? Sun City Grand is practically a stone’s throw from West, where your mother lives.”

  “Oh, believe me, my mother had a lot to say about it. Aunt Ina joined the Booked 4 Murder book club and for months all I heard about was how my aunt monopolized the meetings. Now my mother is too busy complaining about the wedding.”

  I went on to tell Nate about the sunrise ceremony at Petroglyph Plaza, the white wedding gown, the tent company, and everything else that had my aunt flustered to the point where she couldn’t even select the desserts.

  “And that’s not all,” I continued. “My aunt made arrangements for all of us to stay at a bed and breakfast by the foothills of the White Tanks.”

  “That sounds nice,” Nate said. He started to drink his coffee. “Why all the complaints?”

  “Oh, the usual family drama. My mother equates the bed and breakfast with the Bates Motel, but that’s not the real reason for the complaints. I think deep down she’s worried my aunt is making a mistake. Of course my mother would never say that out loud to Aunt Ina. Oh no. Instead, I’ll be the recipient of the grumbling and moaning until my aunt and her future husband . . . Gosh, I simply cannot bring myself to use the word ‘fiancé.’ Somehow I associate that word with someone much younger than seventy-six. What was I saying? Oh
yeah, until they go off on their honeymoon.”

  “Whoa. That’s a lot to take in first thing in the morning. Look, I’m sure everything will work out. So when do you have to sample pastries?”

  “Actually, I’m meeting with the owner of La Petite Pâtisserie this Thursday night at the Renaissance Hotel in Glendale. There’s some sort of cooking demonstration going on and he agreed to see me at the end of the program. I think he was relieved it was someone other than my aunt who would be selecting the pastries. I don’t mind helping Aunt Ina out, but she’s put me in a really uncomfortable situation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She doesn’t want my mother to know I’m doing this. I’m certain it’s because she doesn’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings by asking me instead of her. Frankly, I can see why. My mother’s taste in food is . . . Oh, how do I put it? Awful. Plain awful. Her idea of fine foods is limited to cottage cheese and bagels. And her idea of spaghetti sauce is ajar of ketchup poured over some pasta.”

  We both started laughing as I walked to my desk to tackle the accounts. Augusta, our part-time secretary, wouldn’t be in for another hour, so I had to keep an ear out for the phone. Nate had to get started on that golf course death plus a few other cases, including a deadbeat dad and a possible infidelity. He told me he’d be heading out as soon as Augusta arrived and not to expect him back until later in the day.

  We were lucky to find someone as willing as Augusta to work all sorts of flexible hours for Nate. Augusta was a semiretired snowbird from Wisconsin who kept extending her sojourns in Arizona. This year by ten months. She used to work for a tool and manufacturing company and was up to date with Microsoft Word and Publisher. Not that Nate planned on printing out flyers anytime soon. He was up to his ears already in work with a business that was growing steadily. I half expected him to hire another investigator to ease the workload.

  I was busy pawing through receipts when I heard Augusta’s voice.

  “It’s only me! Have you heard the news? An early morning jogger in Sun City West found a dead man on the golf course. Well, not the course itself. The man was lying on the rocks next to the culvert by the golf cart path. The golf cart was tipped over, so he probably had one too many, fell out, and boom! Dead on the rocks! They had to close Grandview Golf Course for the investigation.”

  I stood there, mouth wide open. That was Nate’s case. And didn’t he say it was a suspicious death and that was why he was asked to investigate? I pushed my chair away from the desk and walked over to his office.

  “Your dead golfer was on the news. Why didn’t you say it was Grandview? That’s walking distance from my mother’s house. Once she finds out, she’ll be gossiping about it with that book club of hers. And if you don’t find out what really happened, I can assure you my mother and her friends will come up with some bizarre scenario of their own.”

  Nate looked stunned but not as perplexed as Augusta, who gave us both a quizzical look and cleared her throat. “You two know about this? It was just on the radio as I was driving in.”

  “Nate got a call about it this morning and did some fancy footwork with his pants.”

  “Huh?”

  Augusta had a strange look, but it was nothing compared to Nate’s expression. “What Phee is trying to say is the phone call caught me off guard as I was dressing and I fell forward.”

  Augusta lowered her eyes to Nate’s shoes and slowly worked her way up before speaking.

  “I do believe men of your age should dress while they’re seated. After a certain point, the body isn’t as limber as it once was.”

  I tried to stifle a giggle as Nate glared at Augusta. Early sixties or not, Nate Williams still retained his youthfulness. If I didn’t consider him like an older brother, I might have been attracted to him.

  “Well, for your information, ladies, my body is about as limber as they get! Oh, what the heck! I’ve got work to do. Got to get to the sheriff’s office in Sun City West. You think the two of you can hold down the fort for a few hours?”

  “Absolutely.” Augusta fluffed her 1960s bouffant hairstyle in case it started to droop. Then, after walking to her desk, she booted up her computer.

  I turned back to Nate and whispered, “According to what Augusta heard, it was an accident. What aren’t you saying and should my mother have a reason to be worried?”

  “Not unless she’s planning on taking up golf. Look, Phee, it’s real early on this case, but the sheriff’s office doesn’t think it was an accident. That’s why they asked me to consult on the investigation.”

  “Please don’t tell me the guy was shot. My mother will be banging down the doors to the property owners association insisting they hire security for every street. You know what she’s like.”

  “All I can tell you is they called the death suspicious. I’ll know more after I meet with them. Including the identity of the victim, if they’ve got it. You do realize there’s a reason they don’t divulge everything on the news.”

  “Of course I do. If they don’t keep some things quiet, they’ll never catch the perpetrators.”

  I gave Nate a sideways glance and retreated to my office. Ten minutes later, he was out the door and on his way to Sun City West. The rest of the morning was relatively quiet until my mother’s friend Shirley Johnson, who also happened to be my aunt Ina’s milliner, called. I had seen Shirley on a number of occasions, usually involving food and gossip at my mother’s house, but I couldn’t imagine why she would be calling me.

  “Oh Lordy, Phee. I’m beside myself. It’s a wonder I can even think straight. I haven’t been this nervous since that book curse a while back.”

  Please, dear God, don’t tell me she found out about the body and is calling to inform me that my mother has gone off the deep end.

  “Um . . . Hi.” I stumbled around, not knowing exactly what to say. “What’s the matter? I’m really surprised you called me at work.”

  “Oh, honey, I hope I don’t get you in trouble, but it’s your aunt Ina. She’s driving me crazy selecting the hat for her wedding.”

  Aunt Ina. I never thought I’d associate those two words with a sense of relief, but in this case, the tension began leaving my body.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “I was hoping maybe you could stop by my house, take a look at some of my creations, and tell me what you think. Every time I come up with a design for her, it’s not what she wants. I’m telling you, there’s no pleasing that woman.”

  I was beginning to understand why my mother had been grumbling so much about the wedding.

  “Gee, Shirley, I’d love to help you out, but I’m not so sure I’m the right person to be offering advice on hats. What about my mother? I’m sure she’d step in.”

  “Oh, dear Lord above! Don’t take this the wrong way, Phee, but your mother’s style is so far off from your aunt Ina’s that all I’d be doing is asking for trouble. That’s why I called you. I know you’ll be able to set me straight on something that will please your aunt. So, can you come over to my house when you get out of work? You know where I live, don’t you? The tan and yellow stucco house on Desert Sand Drive. The one with the kissing quails on the block fence.”

  I knew the house. My mother pointed it out each and every time we passed it.

  “Gee, Shirley, I—”

  “Please, Phee. Say you’ll do it.”

  First the desserts. Now the hat. What will it be next? The tent?

  I could tell Shirley was about to reach her breaking point and, even though I had sworn to myself that all I would do regarding the wedding was to select the desserts from La Petite Pâtisserie, I agreed to her request.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll stop by. But I can only stay for a few minutes.”

  “A few minutes is all I need, sweetie, and I’ll be sure to create something that will dazzle and delight that aunt of yours.”

  “Er, um, yes. Yes, I’m sure you will. I’ll be over later, Shirley.”

  As I hung up the pho
ne, I had a really bad feeling I was about to be sucked deeper and deeper into the mire that went by the name of “Ina and Louis’s Celebration of Eternal Bliss.”

  Chapter 3

  I had to pass Sun City West on my way home, so stopping by Shirley’s house wasn’t really that much of an inconvenience. I noticed the kissing quails on her block fence were now joined by a roadrunner with a bandana and two brightly colored ceramic lizards. Glass wind chimes in shades of blue and green hung from the large palm trees in her front yard. I was trying to take in the entire scene when Shirley opened the door and motioned me inside. I noticed she had redone her nails with a bright yellow gloss that looked stunning against her dark skin.

  “Lordy, you must be sweating. I’ve got freshly brewed iced tea with lemon. Come right into the kitchen. The overhead fan’s on and it’s much cooler in here.”

  As I was ushered into a seat at a large oval table, I felt as if a hundred eyes were staring at me. Teddy bear eyes. They were all over the place. On the cabinets, on her couch and chairs in the living room, and even sitting on the kitchen counter. Hand-sewn teddy bears in every conceivable size. Some with clothing, others au naturel. I had to admit, there was something warm and comforting about cuddly teddy bears, unlike those red-lipped porcelain doll collections that tended to give me the creeps. That, along with clowns.

  Shirley must have seen me staring. “So, do you like my bears? I’ve been sewing them since I was a little girl in Rock Hill, South Carolina. I’ve sold a number of them, but it’s not as lucrative as making hats. Women love to buy hats. Bears are more of a collector thing, and, honey, we spend the first fifty years of our lives collecting things and the next fifty giving them away. So, do you want sugar in your tea?”

  “Oh, no thanks, this is fine.” I reached out to take the glass from her.

  “I want you to know I really appreciate your coming over here to take a look at my samples and tell me what you think. Hold on, I’ll bring them in.”