Motto for Murder (Merry Wrath Mysteries Book 6)

by Leslie Langtry

  "I know we saw something the other night," I said to Philby, who'd jumped onto the counter. "Didn't we?"

  Philby turned around in circles three times before sitting her ample butt down.

  "That's a yes, right?" I opened a couple of cans of cat food and was joined by Martini.

  None of this answered my question. But it did add to my doubts. In spite of my recent success with the nap earlier, I was tired. I hadn't slept through the night in a while, and even though I hadn't dreamed it, I guess it's possible that I maybe, might have hallucinated.

  Mark seemed okay and didn't appear to be upset that I'd called the police on him. Maybe I should just give him the benefit of the doubt.

  I rubbed my face. If I could just get some real sleep. My eyes settled on the stack of bridal magazines on the breakfast bar, and I felt a spike in blood pressure.

  Thinking of the wedding made my heart race and my palms sweat. It was definitely one of the factors that kept me up all those nights. I wasn't sure why. I loved Rex and was sure we'd be happy together.

  There were just too many questions. Would I be able to live with someone after so many years on my own? Would I miss being able to come and go as I chose without checking in with someone? Would I be able to give up my house? Did I want to take his last name?

  And then there was Riley. He wasn't trying to break us up, exactly, but there was a vibe I couldn't ignore. I wasn't sure if I still had feelings for him or if I was irritated because he was throwing me off.

  How was this going to work, anyway? Rex and I didn't even spend every day together. We saw each other quite a bit and always had dates on the weekends. But how was this going to work living in the same house? Would we love it or get on each other's nerves? I had no idea what to expect. And was that normal?

  What I did know was that I'd been thinking so long it was now dark outside. For some reason I was wondering about Mark and Pam's marriage. I hadn't met her, but it sounded like they'd been together for a while. I mean, she was making pot roast and pie for dinner. That sounded normal. As American as apple pie, so they say.

  Maybe I could study them. Find out what made their marriage tick. Sure, I had Kelly and Robert and my parents, but I needed a fresh look at things. As I did the dishes, I made up my mind to begin Operation Fontana as soon as I could figure out how to launch it.

  At this point it was spring, and I'd gotten engaged in the fall. Guilt crept into my brain. I needed to start taking some steps toward making this wedding happen. If I did that, maybe I'd be able to sleep like a normal human.

  And to pull off that miracle, I'd need my mother.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Darling!" Judith Czrygy's voice bubbled through the phone ten minutes later. "How are the plans for your nuptials coming along?"

  See? That's why I needed her! I didn't even know about the word nuptials. Which meant there was a lot I didn't know. I'd gone to the right woman.

  A flicking tail caught my eye, and since I have the attention span of a gnat, I looked. Philby was plastered (legs splayed, belly and nose smooshed against the glass as if she'd been shot in the back) to the front window, staring at Rex's house. She'd been banned due to a mouse infestation months ago.

  Rex had had the exterminators over three times and was finally declared mouse-free. He said he wanted to wait to bring the cats over until he knew it was safe for them. Philby's nose pressed so hard against the glass I was afraid it would break. She couldn't understand why all that fun killing of little furry things had stopped. It was a little sad.

  And then I realized I was still on the phone. "I'm hitting a snag, Mom. I was thinking maybe you could come down for a few days to help?"

  It sounded like my mom was dancing with glee. I thought I'd even heard a champagne cork fly in the background.

  "Of course! I'll make the flight arrangements and hopefully see you tomorrow!"

  "Tomorrow?" I must've said aloud.

  Mom quickly piped up. "I'll only stay a couple of days, and I'll make reservations at the Radisson."

  "You could stay here," I mumbled. I regretted it as soon as I said it, since due to a misunderstanding a little while back, there were bullet holes all over my guest room.

  "Absolutely not." I could swear she was shaking her head. "Rex texted me that you were having trouble sleeping. I don't want to make it worse. I'll just stay long enough to get the ball rolling, and then I'll head back to DC. Deal?"

  Like I could say no to that.

  Lying in bed that night, I tossed and turned. Sleep was still evading me, and I was very frustrated. Finally I got out of bed at 1 a.m. and headed into the kitchen. Philby was waiting for me, as if she knew all along I'd be there.

  "Oh," I snapped, "like you've got it all figured out."

  Philby looked at me to indicate that my accusation was beneath her. Then she walked over to the door to the garage and sat, facing it.

  That was odd. She never wanted out. Philby was averse to cold, rain, and the whole outdoors in general. She'd only been in the garage once before, and that was the other night. And yet, here she was, trying to tell me she wanted back in there.

  "Do we have mice?" I wondered aloud.

  Maybe I had mice too. There was one way to check. I opened the door and turned on the light. Philby was back in the windowsill and hissed at me until I turned the light off. What was she up to?

  I joined her in the window. Not because I was paranoid about the neighbors, but because clearly my cat had a problem and it would be good for me to find out what was going on so I could help her.

  Lights were on at the Fontana house. Now, I totally understand that this is normal. Some people are just night owls. I was attacked by an owl at night once, in Estonia. It wasn't pleasant.

  Mark and Pam were facing each other, arguing. With two closed windows between us, I caught the tone but not the words. They were throwing their arms around a lot. That was a dead giveaway.

  I watched with my cat for a while as the two gesticulated wildly. If I hadn't been a spy, I might've thought watching them was wrong. But I'd made my career watching people surreptitiously. Would Rex put an end to that once we were married?

  Philby's eyes were locked on to the couple, tail twitching violently. What was it about the Fontanas that set her off?

  I got my answer seconds later when Pam produced a sniper rifle, waving it around in the air. Whoa. It was a Mosin-Nagant. An antique at best. Russian made. Were they collectors? Mark took the weapon from her and disappeared, reappearing seconds later with a hatchet.

  He made a chopping motion with it, and she nodded in agreement. What kind of argument starts with a sniper rifle and ends with a hatchet?

  "Should we call Rex?" I whispered to my cat.

  Philby leveled a gaze at me and belched before turning her attention back to the window.

  "I'll take that as a no?"

  When I looked back out the window, the Fontanas were now physically fighting. Punches were being thrown—kicks were hitting their mark. I gripped my cell, prepared to call 9-1-1, when it dawned on me. They weren't fighting. They were sparring.

  Blows never fully landed as no contact was made between them. My mind justified it with the idea they were into that sort of thing…whatever that sort of thing was. Did couples do this in the middle of the night?

  If so, I could get into it. Rex had his police training, and I had my spy training in hand-to-hand combat. That might be fun. It would also keep me sharp.

  But these two were insurance agents…with a sniper rifle, hatchet, and fighting skills. What did it mean?

  CHAPTER SIX

  I'm not too proud to say that Philby and I watched them for a few more hours. It was better than television, to tell the truth, and my cat and I had several in-depth and meaningful conversations.

  For example, Philby thinks Riley is messing with me, I should marry Rex, and she should have fresh salmon every day. I think there was also an agreement for me to let a mouse loose in the house for h
er now and then, but I might have imagined that.

  Just before dawn, the couple called it quits and turned out the lights. Philby and I went to bed. My mind was racing, and while I think I did sleep for a few moments here and there, at seven in the morning I gave up.

  The bathroom mirror told me that the dark circles under my eyes had dark circles of their own, and my skin had taken on a kind of beige/grayish appearance. I decided to call the color greige.

  After pouring orange juice on my cereal and milk in my juice glass four times, I gave up. Toast seemed simpler until I put jelly on the stick of butter in the dish. I ate the toast dry.

  My cell buzzed with a text from my mother. She was in Chicago but would be landing in Des Moines within the hour. This news jolted me awake, and I changed my clothes and made for the van.

  "Mom!" I wheezed over several heads at the baggage claim area after racing through the terminal. I really needed to get into shape. Especially before the wedding. Not that I was out of shape. I was a solid size six. My problem was in running or even walking fast. And while I didn't think the bride usually speed-walked up the aisle, I should start taking strolls at night through the neighborhood, just to get healthier.

  Judith Czrygy waved a perfectly manicured hand at me. She didn't look like a woman who'd gotten up early and flown halfway across the country. My beautiful mother was elegant beyond her years. In her late 50s, she looked at least fifteen years younger. Her glossy, honey-gold hair framed her face in silky waves. She was dressed in a cream-colored suit with matching turtleneck. In fact, she looked like an ad in a magazine. This woman was the reason I was insecure about my looks.

  Actually, that thought would horrify her because she would never want me to feel bad. But growing up with a mother who was stylish and charming 24/7 wasn't easy. I looked down at my jeans, tennis shoes, and sweatshirt. I hadn't had any time to put on makeup or even brush my hair. I did brush my teeth. I'm not a total loser.

  You would've thought I was dressed for prom, the way Mom ran over and hugged me. She was the quintessential DC politician's wife. Even here in the middle of Iowa.

  "Your bags?" I asked.

  "I'll get them." She handed me an expensive but simple black leather tote bag that doubled as her purse.

  "I'll get them," I insisted as I shouldered the bag and headed for the conveyor belt.

  Mom followed and pointed out her suitcase. I snagged it, and we headed for the parking lot.

  "I haven't been back to Who's There since the last campaign," she murmured. "Your father usually travels to Des Moines to meet with constituents, but I rarely leave DC."

  "Well, it hasn't changed much." Except for all the murders and the taxidermy shop run by twins.

  If my mother thought it was strange for me to own a minivan, she didn't say so. "Thank you for calling me, kiddo. I really needed to get out of town."

  I looked at her. "I thought you loved it there."

  She shook her head. "I need a break from all the fundraisers and cocktail parties. This is perfect, and I get to meet Philby and Martini. Now, about the wedding—how far have you gotten in the planning?"

  "Um, I've got a stack of magazines…"

  Mom laughed, and it sounded like the gentle tinkling of wind chimes. "It's a good thing I'm here."

  We chatted about foreign things like pew bows and bridesmaid dresses and bouquets as I drove home. Mom threw out phrases that seemed to come from another language. Boutonnieres? Something blue? Canapés? Pew bows? What did it all mean? Maybe I should've cracked open one or two of the wedding magazines before now.

  "I'm glad you're handling things." I was reeling. "Rex will be so happy to see you. He thinks I'm not taking this seriously."

  Mom arched her right eyebrow. "Are you?"

  I shrugged. "I guess not after hearing about boutonnieres. Besides, you've planned galas in DC. Dinner parties with heads of state. You'll be perfect."

  "Well, let's get started. What's the date?"

  I gulped. "I kind of don't have one yet?"

  She nodded. "Don't worry. We will figure this out. Let's start at the beginning. What season do you think of when you think of getting married?"

  I thought about this for a moment. "I guess I'd like to do it in the winter. I went to a wedding once in December. With the snow and the twinkling stars, it was pretty."

  "Good. See? We're getting somewhere! How about mid-December? It'll be between the holidays; the church will be decorated beautifully, and you'll have about eight months to prepare."

  It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. "Huh. I hadn't thought of that. It sounds perfect, really."

  My mother consulted her cell phone. "Now that we've narrowed it down to the middle of the month, we have two Saturdays to choose from."

  She'd just narrowed the possible dates from fifty-two to two! Why didn't I think of that?

  "I can't believe it!" Rex met us at the house. "You've accomplished more in thirty minutes than Merry has in one month!"

  Rex gave me one of his private little grins. I loved that. It was like our own, special language. Sure, other people could see it, but they didn't know what he was thinking. Okay, I didn't know what he was thinking, but I could guess, and I liked what I was guessing.

  What did I ever do to deserve this man? Ridiculously handsome and oozing smarts, Rex was a serious catch. Granted, I'd never ask this question out loud because some other woman might overhear and make a play for him.

  But Rex was a one-woman man. And that lucky woman was me.

  Mom gave Rex a warm hug.

  "Where are your bags?" he asked.

  "Mom's staying at the Radisson," I said. "We just checked her in, but she wanted to see my house."

  Philby and Martini were plastered to the front window, staring at Mom as if she was a giant mouse come to taunt them from across the street.

  "The cats!" Mom shouted with glee. "They are so cute!"

  I barely got the door open before Philby and Martini knocked me aside and started rubbing up against my mother like teenage girls grinding at the homecoming dance. I ran back to my room to quickly make the bed and returned to find my sophisticated mother, in her expensive wool suit, sitting cross-legged on the floor—her lap filled with cats that looked like Hitler and Elvis.

  Philby had joined my household almost two years ago, accompanied by a corpse. She was a great cat but had one weird peccadillo. She hissed violently whenever she heard the name "Bob." For a second I entertained the idea of showing Mom this trick—but decided against it. I saved that little treasure for punishing the cat for vomiting in my slippers or shredding my pillow. If you think I'm teasing, I think it's only fair to tell you I have five destroyed pillows in my closet and am on my fifth pair of slippers this month. Turned out she was pregnant. And that's how I got Martini.

  "I have to get back to work." Rex sounded sorry. "I'd love to take you ladies out to dinner tonight."

  We agreed, and my fiancé left. One minute later the doorbell rang, and I opened it to find Kelly and her baby, my goddaughter, Finn. This time Mom squealed with glee as she took the baby out of Kelly's arms. Which spiked a real concern that children were expected soon after we tied the knot. I knew I wasn't ready for that.

  Kelly and Mom chatted as my best friend caught her up on her parents, husband, and job. Finn was fascinated with my mother, as if she was staring at a huge ice cream sundae. Or whatever babies fantasize about. It should be ice cream. Everybody likes ice cream.

  I totally understood the kid's fascination. My whole life, from kindergarten to my retirement from the CIA, when Mom swept into the room, everything stopped and everyone stared. She was good. Mom could make anyone feel like the only person on earth, whether you were an astrophysicist or a ditch digger. Was that still a job—ditch digger?

  "So, you have a date now! Way to go, Judith!" Kelly grinned.

  "December 15." Mom nodded. "We should use your church too, Kelly. It's probably the closest thing to religion M
erry has here."

  Ugh. Kelly's church had mixed memories for me. We'd had a lock-in for our troop there once, which ended with Philby being dyed pink and a dead body in the kitchen.

  "I'm amazed," Kelly said as she absently disengaged Finn from chewing on what looked to be a very expensive necklace worn by Mom (who didn't seem to care at all). "That you remember to call your daughter Merry, when you've called her Finn her whole life."

  "There's only one Finn now," Mom baby-talked to my namesake, who cooed and gave her a crooked grin. "Besides, Merry suits her."

  Oh, she was good.

  Mom held Baby Finn as I gave her the tour of my little ranch-style house. If she had criticisms over my horribly disfigured coffee table (a curse upon IKEA), the mattress riddled with bullet holes in the guest room, the complete lack of décor, the junk food-filled fridge, and my boring bathroom and bedroom, she said nothing. The woman could be the best diplomat ever in the scariest place on earth. And, for your information, that is Luxemburg. Never go there.

  Kelly and the baby left right around noon.

  "Let's go eat," Mom said. "It's lunchtime, and I've been dying for a burger from Oleo's."

  I agreed and grabbed my keys. "We should probably get you a rental car too."

  Even though Mom would be staying just two days, she'd need her own vehicle to get around so she wasn't trapped when I wasn't home.

  Oleo's, the bar with the best burgers in Iowa, was packed, but we found a nice quiet booth in the back. After ordering, Mom pulled a leather-bound portfolio from her bag and took the cap off a Mont Blanc pen.

  "We need to start a list."

  I grimaced. "This is when this stuff gets overwhelming."