The Busy Woman's Guide to Murder

by Mary Jane Maffini

“He’s hiding. Took off at seven thirty, looking over his shoulder nervously. You’ll never take him alive.” At least she was starting to see the humor in it.

  “Is he the person who wants the uncluttered minimal vibe?”

  “We both do. But he’s more, um, passionate about it.”

  “He can’t have it both ways,” I said. “Especially since he’s not here. But we’ll try to make it painless. Where are the remaining utensils?”

  Hannah opened the first drawer. “Still there.” That was true. The drawer was still jammed, as was the next one.

  “No problem,” I said. “Let’s select the tools you have actually used in the past week or so and separate them.”

  Lilith positioned herself. I lifted a badly bent spatula from the first drawer and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Hannah. “Spatula. Sure.”

  I said, “Spatula, yes. But was it this spatula?”

  She frowned. Lilith said with a grin, “We’ll take that as a no and we’ll just put this one over here.”

  Hannah winced.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re not throwing it out or giving it away. We’ll deal with it later.”

  Next I lifted out a wooden spoon with a seriously burned handle. Hannah admitted defeat.

  I was surprised to see that Hannah and her hidden hubby couldn’t live without three melon ballers. “We do use them!” she protested. “Often. In the summer.”

  “I believe you. Which one do you use?”

  She wavered before selecting the newest and flashiest of the batch.

  I held up a zester. “Yes! We can’t live without that. It was horribly expensive too.”

  “Horribly expensive doesn’t cut it, but if you can’t live without it, it stays.”

  It took the three of us a bit of time to go through all the utensils in the crammed drawers. We had a third pile for “once a year” items: In the end, the eighty-twenty rule prevailed. We had four times as many tools on the “didn’t use” side than on the “did use.” I wasn’t surprised.

  Hannah slumped against the glamorous black quartz counter. “I feel beat-up!”

  “Here’s my suggestion. Do you have a shelf in your garage with room for a bin?” I knew she did.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll pack up these surplus-to-requirements items, label the container, and tuck it in the garage. Lilith will sort them, and separate them nicely in plastic utensil drawers, so you won’t go crazy if you do need something. At the end of six months, whatever you haven’t used, you don’t need. You can give it to someone who does need it. How would that work?”

  Hannah nodded slowly.

  I added, “I’d be happy to explain it to your husband. I think he’ll realize there’s no downside.”

  Lilith said, “I’ll check in after six months and I’ll come and collect what you haven’t taken back.”

  I knew from experience that would be everything in the box.

  “You’re on,” Hannah said.

  It was time to move on. As Lilith busied herself sorting out the 80 percent that was outward bound, I said, “So for homework for Thursday morning, I’d like you to think about what you do every day. There’s lots of baking gear. Do you bake?”

  Hannah laughed. “I do actually. I bake like a madwoman the first week of November and freeze it all for the holidays. After that, I’m too busy until January.”

  “But I see lots of baking supplies in prime spots. Make a list of what you do every day and what you do on the weekends and when you entertain. Think about how you work in the kitchen and how your husband does. When we come back we’ll sort out the extra cookware as we did the utensils and we’ll find a way to keep your daily tools at your fingertips.”

  “Fun,” Lilith said.

  “It will be.” I’m not sure if Hannah was reassured, but I knew she’d do the homework and she was well on the way to solving her problem. Of course, by now I had to dash.

  Truffle and Sweet Marie were a bit surprised to be bundled into their coats for the second time that morning. They’d been dogs of leisure for a bit too long. Time to get to work. I tied on their therapy-dog scarves, collected Jack, and we spun off in a cloud of snow.

  Once we were at Riverview Manor, Jack smiled and shook hands with every resident he could. He bent over to make eye contact with them, repeated their names, and laughed at his own jokes, which seemed to go over well with everyone. He had Sweet Marie with him, although he didn’t seem to need the cart. I used the cart for Truffle. Truffle was on his best behavior too and loved having his ears stroked. When I grow up, I sure hope I can be relaxed like Jack. He managed to have a chat with the chaplain and most of the staff, as well as a pair of round-faced and pleasant volunteers wearing large yellow smiley buttons. We each got a button too. Jack took time to make sure each resident could focus on Sweet Marie’s face. I had to admit, Sweet Marie’s glossy tan coat stood out next to Jack’s Hawaiian shirt, the one with the red hibiscus against a yellow background. It was a bit harder for people to see Truffle’s shiny black fur against my charcoal-gray cashmere sweater. I made a mental note to wear a contrasting sweater next visit. Or let Jack carry Truffle. Jack doesn’t own any dark clothing.

  As I paraded Truffle around to some new arrivals, Jack took a minute to chat with two of the visiting wives as well. I watched him bend down to engage with everyone he met. It takes more than blank stares and noncomprehension to stop Jack when he wants to interest you in a dog. As I know all too well, having resisted Truffle and Sweet Marie at first.

  Wherever he went there followed smiles and even laughter. Sweet Marie was truly on her best behavior, letting her ears be stroked and her head be scratched. She was much more relaxed on this second visit. I was too. Truffle made me proud, managing to convey great dignity—which isn’t all that easy when you’re a wiener dog. He also seemed happy to meet everyone and be patted and stroked. I’m not funny like Jack, but people seemed happy enough to see me, and, what was more important, to share a happy moment with my cuddly little dog.

  Bella and Candy were thrilled with the visit. Once we were back in the foyer, they shook our hands (well, mostly Jack’s) and said how wonderful our visit had been and how this was going to work out beautifully.

  Jack grinned his lopsided grin and said he was keen to keep coming. He was still wearing his yellow smiley-face volunteer button. Knowing Jack, he’d rustle up interest in volunteering back at CYCotics. His customers wouldn’t know what hit them.

  I didn’t say much, but I knew he made the whole experience better. He helped me to relax and the dogs as well. I wasn’t sure why I’d been so worried about this, but Jack had helped alleviate those worries. As usual.

  As we exited, he said, “You know something weird?”

  “No,” I said. “What is weird?”

  “You’ll never guess who I saw there.”

  There’s no point in trying to guess, especially as he’d said I never would, but also because Jack knew so many people in Woodbridge, but before I could say, “Just tell me,” the dogs set off a storm of barking on spotting a Bernese mountain dog. We scuttled away hoping our new reputations hadn’t been ruined by the little monsters showing their true colors. Once the beasties settled down in the Miata, we chatted about our visit and I forgot to ask who it was that I never would have guessed. I was more interested in discussing our new experience.

  I said, “That was nice, seeing those couples together. It was beautiful. Even though the spouses were now in Riverview and that must have been so hard on them, they are still so close and affectionate.”

  Jack turned and stared at me. “Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?”

  “Not in my world. My mother had four husbands, remember? And we’re not counting the many near misses. She couldn’t make a go of it when all she had was love, glamour, and money, so I can’t imagine her spending her days holding any of their hands in a dementia unit.”

  Jack shook his head, “Maybe that’s the p
roblem.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I think if my parents hadn’t been killed, they would have always been there for each other no matter what life brought them.”

  Jack’s roly-poly happy mom and dad flashed through my memory. It was such a tragedy that they had been killed in a head-on collision when Jack was in the first year of his PhD program. I said, “You’re right. They would have been there for each other.”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Charlotte.”

  I said, “Mmm.”

  Jack was strangely silent for the rest of the drive.

  I had plenty of ordinary business to take care of that day. I needed to check the evaluation forms from the session the night before to see if I needed to adjust my workshop in any way. I had some invoices to do up, a few bills to pay, and it was time to take stock of my own office supplies. Hours flew by. It was only when I dropped into CYCotics with Jack’s afternoon coffee that I remembered to ask, “Who was it you saw at Riverview Manor, Jack?”

  “What?”

  I sighed. “The person you said I’d never guess. Who was it?”

  “Right. That was a shocker.”

  “Quit teasing and just say it.”

  “It was that Serena.”

  My jaw dropped. “Serena Redding? The beauty queen of mean?”

  “Yup.”

  “But that’s awful. What was she doing there?”

  “I don’t know. I just caught a glimpse and I didn’t see her with anyone else.”

  “Oh well, it probably wasn’t even Serena.”

  “Pretty sure it was. And she was wearing a volunteer happy-face button and smiling her big lipsticky smile.”

  “Hard to imagine.”

  “Yup. That’s why I mentioned it.”

  “But it’s a bit troubling. The people in Riverview Manor are so very vulnerable and we know how cruel Serena was. I have to find out what’s going on.”

  Eliminate the stress of hunting for keys at departure time. Develop a routine to keep your keys on a hook or in a basket by the door. This tiny change may take a couple of weeks to become a habit, but it will start paying off soon.

  9

  Bella was more than happy to meet me during her coffee break in the small sunny cafeteria of Riverview Manor. She was waiting with coffee for both of us and a pair of yummy Danishes with apricot glaze. “We have an excellent bakery for the facility,” she said as she waved me to my seat. “But you have to act fast or everything’s gone in a flash.”

  We chatted casually while I used my ploy of finding out more about the patients and unit. I said I was worried about making the wrong kinds of comments. “Yesterday I asked someone if they remembered Sweet Marie. I felt foolish about that. I hope I am going to catch on.”

  “If anyone noticed at all, they’d just think you’re being conversational. You’re doing great,” Bella said, squeezing my hand. “And your friend is also a natural.”

  I didn’t want to get sidetracked onto a Jack conversation, because that happens very easily. “I noticed plenty of volunteers, but not many our age,” I said.

  “Most are retired, but we have everyone from high school kids to older seniors coming in here. We can use lots of different age groups. We want Riverview to feel like a regular community.”

  I’d been hoping she’d say that Serena Redding was a volunteer, but that didn’t pan out.

  “I thought I saw someone I went to high school with yesterday. Probably just a mistake on my part. People change so much.”

  “Oh. I wonder who that would be.”

  I said innocently, “I think her name is Serena.”

  “Of course, Serena Zeitz.”

  Jackpot. “Must be her married name. I knew her as Serena Redding.”

  “It is. She’s married to Jerome Zeitz of InZeitz.­com.” She looked at me expectantly.

  That took me by surprise. “The ethical investment guru?”

  Bella lowered her voice. “The same. He made a huge fortune and retired young. He concentrates on good works now. Anyway, he’s originally from this area and they just moved back to Woodbridge. Well, they live in this fabulous estate outside of town.”

  “Huh.” How unfair was that?

  “Yes. Jerome Zeitz is very passionate about helping the community. He endowed our new wing here. His grandmother died of Alzheimer’s and it’s something he cares deeply about.”

  I smiled and hoped she didn’t read my mind. “So, Serena is now volunteering here?”

  A shadow passed over Bella’s face. “That’s right.”

  Now I was in a situation. Could I say something to Bella about Serena? Should I? Was it worse to say something or not to? What if Serena had changed? Of course, from what I knew about her conversations with Mona and Haley, she could still create unhappiness and even panic. And I had no evidence that Serena was doing anything wrong at all. If Tiffanee could change, why couldn’t Serena? I couldn’t do anything about Mona, but I had to speak up about this. I guess I must have been biting my lip, because Bella touched my arm and said, “Is something wrong?”

  I gave a guilty start. “No, no, no. I was just surprised to see her after—”

  Bella said, “The harm she did as a teenager?”

  “Oh. I was going to say—after all these years, but, yes, to tell the truth, that’s what I meant. Did you know about the bullying?”

  She nodded. “I did. I had a younger cousin who had a hard time with Serena and her gal pals. She had a breakdown and her parents took her out of St. Jude’s as a result, so when Serena showed up here, I was vehemently opposed to having her volunteer. I took it up with the executive director.”

  I waited.

  Bella hesitated and glanced around. She lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. I know there are confidentiality issues, but I could tell by your face that you knew Serena’s history.”

  “I sure did. I’m sorry. I was kind of mining you for information. I regret not standing up against her and the others at the time. The people here are terribly vulnerable. If Serena was up to her old—”

  “She isn’t. I am absolutely certain of that. This volunteer work is one of the ways she’s chosen to make amends.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from snorting. Bella said, “I know how you feel. It took me a long time to come around too. We had some pretty lively meetings about her being here. I even got in touch with my cousin about it.”

  “What did she say?”

  “To my surprise, she’d forgiven Serena. Serena contacted her when she moved back here. She said she had to make amends. She expressed remorse and they talked it through. Maybe part of it is that my cousin did well at her new school, and her parents supported her and worked hard to help her get over it.”

  “Hmm. I am glad for your cousin’s sake that she’s worked past it, but what about your residents here? They’re not in a position to work through anything. Or even explain what’s happening to them. What do we know about Serena’s motives?”

  “I understand that Serena has a baby who almost died of meningitis last year. And when the child was at death’s door, I guess she made a bargain with the Almighty. Changing herself in return for the child getting better and making amends to people she’d harmed.”

  “That might explain it, but I’m still suspicious.”

  “With good reason and so was I. And I think that having a husband who is committed to making the world a better place makes a difference. They haven’t been married all that long, maybe three or four years. He is a wonderful man. He’s done a lot to establish schools in Africa. He set up scholarship funds for underprivileged youth. He sponsors a big fund-raiser for the food cupboard. The hospital—”

  “Oh fine,” I said.

  Bella met my eyes. “To reassure you, Serena is never alone with any of our people. There’s always someone with her. And more to the point, everyone likes her. The patients and staff seem to light up when she shows up for her shift.”

/>   After a pause, I said, “You know, back at St. Jude’s people always lit up when she was around, with the exception of the miserable kids she singled out for torment. She was so gorgeous and powerful. I don’t know if lighting up at the sight of her is a good indication.” I sat there wondering what Serena was up to. I stared at Bella’s soft, kind face. “You keep an eye on her all the time?”

  “We always will in a subtle way. On the off chance that I’m wrong. People do change, Charlotte, and I think we all deserve a second chance. Don’t we all need that in some way?”

  “I guess. But I hope you’re right. Serena was so cruel and dangerous, I am surprised that they would take the risk.”

  “Her pastor came with her. She’s been getting counseling for her . . . issues. He stands behind her and this is part of her work in the community to reclaim her goodness.”

  I barely stopped myself from snorting.

  “Charlotte, don’t you believe that people can change?”

  “Sure, I think that lots of us can improve ourselves, learn to live better lives, but Serena? The things she did were horrible. I’m sorry; I’d like to believe it, but I just can’t buy that.”

  Bella said, “I believe you’re wrong. And I hope you come to realize it, Charlotte.”

  I didn’t doubt her sincerity. I just hoped she was right, for everyone’s sake.

  On my way home, I took a slight detour down Spruce Street to Mona’s place. I didn’t plan on contacting her. I parked and sat there worrying. As I did, the garage door opened and a dark-blue sedan pulled out. From the window of number 18, Caroline waved to the driver. Must have been the other tenant There was still no small red car inside the garage and no lights showing from the small windows of Mona’s basement apartment. Wherever Mona was, she still wasn’t home. I confirmed that by tromping over to her door and knocking. I followed up by having a quick conversation with Caroline. She was worried too because there still hadn’t been a word or a sound from Mona. She and Tony were taking good care of Mooch and Pooch, she assured me.

  I knew that Pepper would probably haul me in if she knew I’d done that, but I was also well aware that Serena wasn’t the only person who needed to make amends. I had to make a lot up to Mona for not standing up for her at St. Jude’s. I didn’t want to mess up this time, but it was hard to figure out what to do.