Murder Can Rain on Your Shower

by Selma Eichler

  Had she come to acknowledge that individuals—and

  this would include her daughter—are entitled to make

  their own decisions about a matter this vital? Or could

  it be that she now regarded religion as less of a crite

  rion in selecting a mate?

  Uh-uh, to both of the above. Mike escaped Margot’s

  displeasure because my sister-in-law has a kind of . . .

  well, let’s be nice and call it flexibility. All it took to convince her that Michael Lynton was the perfect man

  for Ellen was the MD after his name. Listen, tag one of those things onto ‘‘Desiree Shapiro’’ and I could have been a (practicing) Buddhist, and Margot would

  have clasped me to her bosom. She’d even have been

  willing to overlook that on my person is a lot more weight than she deems it seemly to schlep around.

  Plus, I’ll bet she’d also have closed her eyes to my having had countless suppers at her home without

  once making a fuss over her potato pancakes.

  Anyway, I intended to check into those shower gifts.

  But not because I told Margot I would. In spite of it.

  38

  Selma Eichler

  *

  *

  *

  I didn’t sleep well that night.

  I was feeling incredibly frustrated.

  You see, under normal circumstances, if there’s any

  indication that I might be dealing with a homicide, I don’t hang around waiting for the autopsy report to

  confirm it. By the time that happens—I’ve known the

  toxicology findings to take as long as a couple of

  months—the trail could be colder than Margot’s atti

  tude. (I can’t help it; after every exposure to that woman, it’s a while before I’m able to expel her from

  my head.) Not that I intended to leave my investiga

  tion in limbo until I got the official word in this in

  stance, either, you understand. But unlike my usual

  practice of plunging right in, I’d allowed an entire day

  to go by without making a single inquiry into Bobbie Jean’s death.

  The trouble was that I needed to talk to Allison in order to learn something about the motives of those

  four suspects I was zeroing in on. She might even be able to offer up a few other possible assassins that I wasn’t aware of. As antsy as I was to speak to Allison

  Lynton, however, I hadn’t felt that today was the ideal

  time to phone her. After all, she had to handle the arrangements at the funeral home; also, she had a

  freshly grieving husband to attend to. Actually, it

  would probably be best to put things on hold until

  after Wednesday night’s viewing.

  But patience never having been one of my virtues,

  this just didn’t appear feasible. So at the risk of being

  considered insensitive by the family of my nephew-to

  be, I planned on getting in touch with Allison

  tomorrow.

  I mean, it would really be asking too much of myself

  to continue cooling my heels like this.

  Chapter 7

  As soon as I was settled in my office on Tuesday, I phoned Ellen at the store to find out if, by any chance,

  she’d contacted the country club about her shower

  gifts yet.

  ‘‘Oh, didn’t I mention it to you last night? There

  was a message from Silver Oaks on my machine when

  I got home from Greenwich—they wanted me to call

  back so they could arrange to have the gifts delivered

  to me. They have an employee who lives in Manhat

  tan, and this person volunteered to drop off the pack

  ages at my apartment. Isn’t that nice?’’

  ‘‘Very. But apparently you didn’t relay that infor

  mation to your mother.’’

  ‘‘How do you know?’’

  ‘‘I heard from her right after she spoke to you. She

  requested that I follow up on the gifts.’’

  ‘‘Oh. I wish she hadn’t bothered you. The thing is, I never had a chance to tell her about that message. She asked how the shower was, and I told her what

  happened. She felt terrible about Bobbie Jean, of

  course.’’ ( Yeah, yeah. ) ‘‘But she said that she hoped I’d at least received some nice presents, and I said that I hadn’t seen them yet, that I had to leave them at Silver Oaks for a couple of days. She started to carry on about the club’s having no right to confiscate

  somebody’s property like that. Well, I tried to explain

  that since the presents had been stacked up in the

  room where Bobbie Jean had taken sick, the police

  hadn’t wanted them removed until they’d finished

  going over everything.

  40

  Selma Eichler

  ‘‘My mother has a one-track mind, though. She

  didn’t care why those gifts were being held there; she just wanted them released. Anyway, before I could

  get out that they were being delivered to me, she’d hung up. I love her very much, Aunt Dez, but that

  woman can be absolutely impossible sometimes.’’

  Give me credit; I didn’t utter a word. After all, Mar

  got is Ellen’s mother.

  ‘‘She really hasn’t been herself lately, though,’’

  Ellen added protectively.

  ‘‘What do you mean?’’

  ‘‘Her ankle. She’s in pain a lot of the time.’’

  Now, although I’ve never wished for anything dire to happen to Margot (well, only on a couple of rare occasions), it did my heart good to hear that she was suffering somewhat, at least.

  So while I said, ‘‘Gee, that’s too bad,’’ I was grin

  ning like crazy when I said it.

  I dialed Allison Lynton shortly after Ellen and I

  hung up. We talked for a few minutes about how

  many people had reached out to the family in the less

  than two days since Bobbie Jean’s death. ‘‘Dozens of friends and neighbors have called and stopped by,’’

  Allison told me. ‘‘And we received so many beautiful bouquets that I ran some of them over to the hospital

  a bit earlier.’’

  A fruit basket instantly replaced the flowers I’d

  planned on sending that afternoon.

  ‘‘And how is Wes feeling?’’ I asked then. I had met

  Mike’s father only once, but I’d taken an immediate

  liking to him. You really couldn’t help it; he was such

  a gentle, soft-spoken man.

  ‘‘He’s extremely depressed,’’ Allison confided,

  sounding pretty depressed herself. ‘‘I was hoping that having all those visitors would divert him—for a little while, anyway. That hasn’t happened, though. Not

  yet.’’

  ‘‘Well, the tragedy is still awfully fresh.’’

  MURDER CAN RAIN ON YOUR SHOWER

  41

  ‘‘You’re right. And I realize these things take time. But it hurts me to see Wes like that.’’

  ‘‘You’ll give him my best, won’t you? Please convey

  how very sorry I am for his loss.’’

  Allison murmured that she’d do that, after which I

  asked if she’d heard anything from the Forsythe

  police.

  ‘‘No, but Dr. Krauss telephoned yesterday. He was

  Bobbie Jean’s physician—he’s mine, too. Anders—Dr.

  Krauss—is also a family friend; he and Wes went to

  medical school together. At any rate, Chief Porchow

  contacted him about Bobbie Jean’s medical history.

  Anders told him basically the same thing I did, that she’d always been in good healt
h—at least, to the best

  of his knowledge. As I believe I mentioned to you,

  Bobbie Jean did live abroad for a time. Nevertheless, Dr. Krauss is still reasonably certain she’d never been

  seriously ill.’’

  ‘‘The doctor must have been very surprised to learn

  of her death.’’

  ‘‘He was shocked.’’ There was what I’d describe as

  a pregnant pause here. And from her next words, I

  can only gather that Allison had been trying to make up her mind whether or not to share more of her

  conversation with the physician.

  ‘‘Anders has known Bobbie Jean for many years,’’

  she went on at last. ‘‘ Had known, I imagine I should say. And being fairly familiar with her past, he’s aware

  that she sometimes engaged in rather . . . uh . . .

  thoughtless behavior, which didn’t exactly endear her to

  a number of people. Well, in the course of our talk I told Anders that a few of those people had been at the shower. Incidentally, one of them—Grace Banner—is

  even a patient of his. As I started to say, though, once

  he heard that four of Bobbie Jean’s—it’s probably not

  a stretch to call them enemies—were right there on

  the scene, he asked if I considered her death to be suspicious.’’

  ‘‘And do you?’’

  42

  Selma Eichler

  A protracted silence followed, after which Allison

  said quietly, ‘‘I suppose I have to concede that it is possible she met with foul play, although I don’t be

  lieve that’s actually the case.’’ And now she seemed to

  be struggling with herself. ‘‘Still, even before Lorraine

  claimed to have heard something of that nature on

  Sunday, it crossed my mind that Bobbie Jean might

  have been murdered. But then again, this would mean

  that the person responsible was one of my very good friends, and I can’t even imagine any of them poison

  ing somebody.’’ A few moments went by before she made another admission. ‘‘I’m also terribly concerned

  about how Wes might react if it should turn out that someone did do away with Bobbie Jean. Perhaps that’s another reason I tend to reject that theory.’’

  ‘‘It sounds to me as if the doctor himself may regard

  her death as suspicious.’’

  ‘‘I think you’re right, although he didn’t offer an

  opinion.’’ I was about to bring up another matter

  when Allison hit me with, ‘‘You know, Desiree, if

  Bobbie Jean was murdered, I’m afraid I could be at least partially responsible.’’

  ‘‘Why would you say a thing like that?’’

  ‘‘I might have set the stage for it to occur. Look, it wasn’t my idea to have Ellen’s shower at Bobbie

  Jean’s club. In fact, I fought it. But Bobbie Jean was absolutely determined. In the end she went to Wes,

  and he persuaded me to go along with her. My hus

  band was always extremely supportive of his sister,

  which had a great deal to do with her childhood. But that’s another story entirely. Anyhow, I shouldn’t have

  listened to Wes. I recognized instinctively that

  allowing Bobbie Jean to . . . well . . . in a way, act as hostess wouldn’t exactly be appreciated by certain of the guests. It was almost as if they’d be attending the shower at her sufferance. Do you understand what

  I mean?’’

  ‘‘I think I do. But listen, Allison, there was no way you could predict that Bobbie Jean would be poisoned—

  if, in fact, that’s how she died. Or be sure that her

  MURDER CAN RAIN ON YOUR SHOWER

  43

  death could have been avoided if the affair had been held somewhere else.’’

  ‘‘I’d like to think that’s true.’’

  ‘‘It is. But tell me this. Is it your opinion that your sister-in-law wanted the shower at Silver Oaks in

  order to make it uncomfortable for these particular

  ladies who so obviously hated her?’’

  ‘‘No, it’s not. Bobbie Jean wasn’t especially con

  cerned with what people thought of her. I’m fairly

  positive that the only reason she was so keen on her country club was because it’s such an elegant setting. And she figured that by arranging for the function to be held there, she’d be doing something nice for Mike

  and his bride-to-be. But I’m not at all sure the women

  involved would agree with this assessment.

  ‘‘In any event, I did try my best to explain to Bob

  bie Jean that because of the bitterness existing be

  tween her and some of the guests, it might be

  advisable to have the shower at a more neutral loca

  tion. But she shrugged off my objections.’’

  ‘‘Incidentally, I presume we’ve been talking about

  Lorraine, Grace, and the Fremonts—mother and

  daughter.’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ Allison said softly.

  ‘‘Well, why didn’t any of the four just decline the invitation if they were troubled by the Silver Oaks

  thing?’’

  ‘‘A good question. Particularly since I assured them

  I wouldn’t be offended if that’s what they decided to do. But Lorraine said she had no intention of giving Bobbie Jean the satisfaction of staying away. Besides, Lorraine had attended a shower at Silver Oaks about

  a year ago and evidently she was very impressed with

  the food. She told me she refused to allow Bobbie

  Jean to deprive her of a meal like that. The others insisted—and I really don’t quite accept this—that the

  situation didn’t bother them that much. All four of

  them of them also said that they wouldn’t dream of

  missing a shower for my future daughter-in-law.’’

  ‘‘Aside from those women, was there anyone else

  44

  Selma Eichler

  at Silver Oaks that day who harbored a grudge against

  your sister-in-law?’’

  ‘‘No one I’m aware of. But it is conceivable, with a track record like Bobbie Jean’s. I should really give it

  some thought, shouldn’t I? Thanks, Desiree.’’

  ‘‘For what?’’

  ‘‘For the reminder that even if it should be deter

  mined that Bobbie Jean was poisoned, this wouldn’t

  necessarily mean one of those four had a hand in it.’’

  ‘‘No, it wouldn’t. And I certainly intend to explore additional areas, as well. Nevertheless, it’s important that you and I go over the grievances your friends

  harbored against Bobbie Jean.’’

  I fully expected that Allison would put me off until

  the end of the week. Which she sort of did. And

  which, in view of the circumstances, was understand

  able. But then she inquired hesitantly, ‘‘Our talk can wait, can’t it?’’

  ‘‘Yes, I guess it can. But—’’ I cut myself off.

  ‘‘But what?’’

  ‘‘If there has been a crime committed here, the more promptly I begin my investigation, the better my

  chances of apprehending the perpetrator. As time goes

  by, memories fade, perceptions change, evidence—’’

  ‘‘So you’re saying that we should get together as

  quickly as possible.’’

  ‘‘Pretty much, if you can possibly arrange it. We

  can do it anywhere that’s convenient for you, Allison.

  Naturally, I’ll be glad to come up to Greenwich if that

  would be best.’’

  ‘‘That wouldn’t be necessary. I happen to be coming

  into Manha
ttan this afternoon—I have to attend to

  some business at the funeral parlor today.’’ Then, with

  more than a hint of reluctance: ‘‘If you really believe my meeting with you this soon could make a differ

  ence, I suppose I can stop by your apartment before driving back.’’

  ‘‘I believe it could make a critical difference.’’

  ‘‘All right,’’ Allison agreed. ‘‘I should be able to get

  there by six thirty or so. How does that sound?’’

  MURDER CAN RAIN ON YOUR SHOWER

  45

  ‘‘Perfect. Listen, why don’t you stay for dinner?’’

  Not known for my speed—not even in the kitchen—

  the instant I extended the invitation I was half out of my chair, poised to head for home and start putting together a meal of some kind.

  ‘‘I’d really love to, Desiree, but I’m anxious to re

  turn to Connecticut as early as I can. My brother and sister-in-law will be keeping Wes company, but still—

  Listen, this won’t take very long, will it?’’

  ‘‘I promise it won’t.’’

  Now, this is a promise I make with regularity. And

  break with equal regularity.

  But I vowed to myself to keep my word this time.

  Even if I had to pull out my tongue to do it.

  Chapter 8

  Allison phoned at around twenty to six.

  Damn, I muttered to myself the instant I heard her voice. But almost immediately I took heart. It seemed

  she wasn’t calling to cancel after all.

  ‘‘I finished at the funeral home before I figured I

  would. Would it be all right if we had our meeting ahead of schedule?’’ she asked, her voice tentative.

  ‘‘Sure.’’

  ‘‘If I leave my car parked where it is and hop a cab

  over to your apartment, I could probably be there in ten minutes.’’

  ‘‘That’s fine.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I’m so relieved. That way I can be back in

  Greenwich a bit sooner. I didn’t want to just burst in on you, though.’’

  Now, how do you like that? I mean, if there’s one thing that irks me more than a person’s being late

  for an appointment, it’s a person’s showing up before they’re expected. Listen, I can’t tell you how many

  times some damn early bird has caught me either halfdressed or half-coiffed. And once, a couple of years ago—and I can still hardly bear to recall it—I even had to go to the door with a totally naked face.

  I already liked Allison Lynton, but after that call

  she shot up about a thousand points in my estimation.