A Season for Killing Blondes

by Joanne Guidoccio

  I managed a smile. “You’re right I should have known better.”

  She came over and hugged me. “It’s over.” She frowned. “Does Carlo know about Luigi?”

  “It hasn’t gotten to that stage yet.” I was still embarrassed about that brief period in my life and didn’t want to discuss it with him or anyone else for that matter. But I must admit, I didn’t mind today’s talk with my mother. It had cleared the air. I decided to take a page out of Sofia’s book and change the subject. “Sofia put up with a lot from Andrew. All that philandering and heavy drinking. And to top it all, he delighted in putting her down in public. I couldn’t stand for such behavior.”

  My mother shrugged. “Sofia likes being married, and she’s not too crazy about being on her own.”

  “She’s in denial. Just the other day, she was telling me that the four of them might go skiing in Quebec during the Christmas break.” I thought of my nephews. How would they react to the divorce? “What about the boys? Do they know what’s going on?”

  My mother shrugged. “They’ve found girlfriends in the States, and they’re not planning to come up until the spring. Sofia knows all of this, but like you said, she’s in denial.”

  “I must say she’s put on a very good front.”

  “So do you, Gilda. You girls don’t fool us for a minute. Amelia and I always know when something isn’t right.” She sighed. “Enough about Sofia! I want to hear about Carlo.”

  “Well, there’s not much to tell. We had a very pleasant telephone conversation today, and I gave…I think he has another suspect in mind.” I decided to stretch the truth and tell my mother that Carlo suspected Anna May. She would be horrified if she knew I had visited a private investigator.

  “Who?”

  “Anna May.”

  “The sister? I hope not. I still remember how much pride Mrs. Godfrey took in those girls. Anna May was so pretty and plump.” My mother’s eyes filled with concern. “And then she lost all that weight and became skinny, too skinny.”

  “She’s more than plump now,” I said. “I think she’s put on at least fifty pounds since high school, and it’s not a healthy weight for her.”

  Before my mother could answer, the timer rang, and she removed a perfectly formed sponge cake from the oven. She placed it next to the other two that were cooling on the side cupboard.

  “What’s with all the sponge cakes? Are you planning to freeze them?”

  “No, these are for Sunday’s tea at the church. Amelia, Rosa, and Maria are also baking them. Later tonight, Sofia’s coming to wrap these cakes and place them in those fancy hat boxes that she likes to make.”

  “I saw her working on them the other day. I still don’t understand the concept.”

  “A few years ago Sofia saw one of those special Oprah shows around Christmas time. One of the gifts was a sponge cake wrapped and placed in a fancy hat box. A woman in New York makes a bundle sending these cakes to people. Last year, Sofia thought it would be a good idea if we introduced these cakes at the Autumn Tea. We made ten of them, and everyone loved them. This year, we’ll have forty of them.”

  Sofia could give Martha Stewart and Nigella Lawson a run for their money. “I don’t know why she’s never tried catering or interior design or some other creative venture. She would have done very well.”

  “She’s happy staying at home and taking care of her family,” my mother said.

  “Andrew’s departure is going to throw a monkey wrench into her life plans,” I said. “And Peter and Paul won’t be spending too much time up here either. Ready or not, she’s got an empty nest to deal with.”

  “Like the rest of the mothers in the world, she’ll adapt and learn to cope.” My mother sat across from me. “Enough talking. Let’s eat now.”

  I had been so intent on the conversation I hadn’t noticed that my mother had made the salad, finished setting the table, and prepared two steaming plates of pasta and meatballs.

  I savored every bite of my favorite comfort meal. At the end, I turned to my mother and said, “It never tasted this good. What did you do differently?”

  She smiled. “I may add more or less of a particular spice or ingredient, but my recipes haven’t changed much over the years.”

  While that was true, there was something else that my mother shared with Sofia and all the other foodies. They cook with love and passion. That’s what makes the difference. I could make any of these meals, but I don’t enjoy cooking. It’s a task, another to-do item on my list. And I never focus exclusively on whatever is cooking or baking in the oven. I’m reading a book, working on the computer, or talking on the phone while I’m preparing a meal. Thank God for timers!

  “And now for dessert.”

  I groaned. “I’m stuffed. I couldn’t possible take another bite of anything.”

  She went downstairs to her large, well-stocked institutional-sized freezer. She returned with an aluminum foil wrapped log and proceeded to cut generous pieces of her Neapolitan ice cream cake. She smiled mischievously. “I think you can manage a few more bites.”

  “You know I can’t resist that cake.” I tugged at my waistline. “I’m glad I’m going to my yoga class tonight.”

  “Yes, it’s good for you, and you need it.”

  “Are you saying I’m too fat?”

  “Now, don’t start that nonsense with me. If anything, I think you’re too thin. I don’t know anything about this exercise class, but I know you enjoy going there with your friends. That’s what I think is so good about it.”

  After we finished eating, I put the dishes in the dishwasher and washed some of the larger pots and pans while my mother tidied and prepared the kitchen for tonight’s Cake Fest. As I scrubbed the pots, I dreamed of my future date with Carlo.

  Chapter 11

  I made a quick stop at the condo to change my clothes. When I went into my bedroom, I found a note pinned to my mirror. I’m picking up a few things at the mall and then going to your mom’s. See you later. Sofia. Just as well. Part of me wanted to bring up her marital problems, but another part didn’t want to know the details. I would wait until Sofia told me about Andrew. At some point, she would have to admit to the breakdown of her marriage.

  I changed into my black yoga pants and Life is Good T-shirt. I threw on a matching jacket and headed toward the studio. My heart fluttered as I drove into the parking lot. While I worried about seeing Jean so soon after that unpleasant telephone conversation, I looked forward to a relaxing yoga session and reconnecting with my friends. When I got inside, I found Erin Haskell, Jean’s partner, huddled with Sarah Clarkson, one of the part-time yoga instructors. They appeared to be arguing, though their voices were low. I went into the main exercise room and searched for Adele and Laura. They waved me over.

  I could feel myself becoming even calmer as I approached. Adele and Laura were my best childhood friends. After elementary school, our paths had diverged. In spite of the winding roads we had taken, we had still managed to connect several times a year. Since returning to Sudbury, I made an effort to meet with them more often.

  After I had put my yoga mat down, Adele spoke, “How are you doing?”

  Laura moved in closer and patted my shoulder.

  “Much better. I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls.”

  “Not to worry,” Laura said.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. The other students were all whispering and pointing at Erin and Sarah.

  “Jean took off last Friday and hasn’t been seen since,” Adele whispered. “Sarah and Erin covered most of her classes, but they still had to cancel some of them. Jean hasn’t called, and her cell phone is off. Erin is not a happy camper. She’ll be leading tonight’s class.”

  Laura groaned. “We’re in for a killer session tonight. My abs will be feeling it for days.”

  While I welcomed the change this evening, I preferred Jean’s calmer, more soothing sessions that included twenty minutes of meditation. Erin was also a Pilates instru
ctor and liked to include abdominal work in her yoga sessions. I cleared my throat. “Does anyone know where Jean went?”

  “She left a message saying she had to get out of town for a while. Sarah thinks she might have gone to her aunt’s cottage near North Bay. That’s where she goes to unwind. But she doesn’t stay there for more than a couple of days. It’s been six days and no sign of her yet.” Laura frowned. “But she went alone. I wonder if she’s having marital problems.”

  I perked up. “She went alone?”

  Laura nodded. “One of the ladies saw her husband at the grocery store yesterday.”

  My mind spun with possibilities. Jean had probably left after speaking with me Friday morning. I wonder where she was when Melly Grace was killed Sunday morning. And what about her husband’s whereabouts? While I longed to sneak out and call Carlo, I knew that would just arouse suspicion. If I waited, I could gather more information about Jean and her whereabouts.

  Erin walked by us and made her way to the front of the room. She managed a smile. “Sorry, folks. We’ve had a bit of a snafu this week. But let’s not let that get in our way.” She took several deep breaths. “Let us begin. Lie on your backs—”

  Erin did not revert to her Pilates moves; instead she guided us through a calm, well-structured class. There was something immensely comforting in the precision of her instructions: “Inhale and raise both arms straight out from the shoulders parallel to the floor with the palms facing down”…“Exhale slowly while turning the torso to the left”…“One more long, luxurious inhalation, one more complete exhalation.”

  I loved listened to the soft, soothing Sanskrit names—balasana, garudasana, tadasana, savasana—that described the different poses. Much more interesting than simply hearing child pose, eagle pose, mountain pose, or corpse pose.

  Erin might have been stressed earlier, but she radiated calm at the end. She bowed to all of us. “Namaste.”

  “That wasn’t bad at all,” Laura said.

  “It’s almost as soothing as Jean’s sessions,” Adele added. “Though last week, she wasn’t at her best.”

  “What do you mean?” I was surprised to hear Adele criticize Jean.

  Adele’s eyes widened. “Don’t you remember how flustered she got during the sun salutations? She kept doing all the poses on the same side. And she didn’t include a single Downward Dog pose. That’s so unlike her.”

  “She left the room for a good ten minutes,” Laura added.

  I thought back to last Wednesday night, but could remember none of this.

  Adele and Laura laughed. “You were out of it, too. You went through the entire session in some kind of trance. And afterward, all you could talk about was the open house.” Adele winced. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

  “It’s all right, Adele. I don’t remember any of this stuff going on with Jean. I guess I was too wound up.” I changed the subject. “So, are we on for Tim Hortons?”

  Both women nodded enthusiastically. We took several minutes to freshen up and then walked over to Tim Hortons. We often joked that we should be having herbal tea, but somehow the aroma of coffee always won us over. I was glad to see that the restaurant was not too crowded. I was hoping to learn more about Jean and didn’t want anyone else overhearing our conversation.

  We ordered our coffees and made our way to a table near the window. Adele and Laura glanced at each other and then focused their attention on me. I could tell they were curious about the events of the last week. I gave them a brief, edited version. They were relieved to learn that the police did not consider me a suspect, but were surprised to hear that Sofia had moved in with me.

  “How long is she staying?” Adele asked.

  “A week or two,” I said. “I can’t see her staying any longer than that.”

  Adele and Laura exchanged glances but said nothing.

  “Spill it.” It wasn’t like my two oldest friends to not offer an opinion.

  “It’s just that you two were never that close,” said Adele. “You had different sets of friends.”

  Laura piped in, “And you weren’t in each other’s bridal parties.”

  “Sofia was pregnant with twins,” I said. “I couldn’t ask her to put on a bridesmaid dress.”

  “But she could have asked you when she got married,” Laura said. “You were single and not pregnant.”

  It still rankled a bit, even after all these years. While we hadn’t been close, I did expect to be part of Sofia’s bridal party. And I know my parents, Aunt Amelia and Uncle Paolo were very upset with Sofia. Angry words had been tossed about, and I remember being so grateful that I was leaving for teachers’ college shortly afterward.

  “Did she ever talk about it with you?” Laura asked.

  Thinking back, I don’t remember seeing much of Sofia during the early years of her marriage. She spent the holidays with Andrew’s family, and whenever our paths crossed, there were lots of people around. We didn’t get close until I won the lottery.

  Laura changed the subject. “I wonder when Jean is coming back.”

  Good! We were talking about Jean again. I knew Laura and Adele would have the goods—if there were any—on her.

  “It sounds like she hasn’t taken too many days off in the past. As far as I’m concerned, she’s entitled to time off.” Adele yawned and glanced at her watch.

  “I hope she’s not having marital problems. That would be so hard on her, especially with Michael being so young.” I thought of all the students I had taught. Whenever there was a divorce in the family, the children started acting up in class, and some even turned to drugs and alcohol for comfort.

  “Once a teacher, always a teacher,” Laura teased. “I think she’d be more concerned about her husband’s reaction. Michael Senior didn’t do too well after Carrie Ann left him.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t sink into another depression,” Adele said. “Back then, he was down for almost two years.”

  “Wasn’t there anyone around who could help him?” I wondered about the man who had married Carrie Ann.

  “People did try, but he wouldn’t let them in,” Adele said. “Only Jean and Mrs. Godfrey were able to get through to him. It took a while, but Jean didn’t give up and he finally married her.”

  “It was good of Mrs. Godfrey to get involved.” I wasn’t that surprised to hear that she had helped her ex-son-in-law get back on his feet. She did not have a single judgmental bone in her body and gave everyone the benefit of the doubt.

  “She was a good soul,” Laura said. “Carrie Ann and Jenny Marie are a lot like her. Now, Anna May is another story.”

  We laughed.

  “Anna May used to be like her,” Adele said. “I could never get over how much she changed once she got to high school. She lost all that baby fat and her pleasant personality. I think it was all those diet pills she took. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she got into some heavy-duty drugs.”

  I had also heard the rumors about the pills and wondered about the drugs. While I had few memories of Anna May during elementary school, I could vividly recall her mean girl antics during her high school days. She would not hesitate to malign any girl who attracted the attention of her boyfriend of the week. “I guess being thin was that important to her.” I thought of some of my former students who also dabbled in drugs. A slippery slope and very few emerged unscathed from their experiences.

  “It got her a lot of male attention,” Laura said. “But the guys never stuck around too long. Even that husband of hers took off on her after only a year of marriage.”

  For the second time today, I recalled my own short-lived marriage. I decided to bring the conversation back to Jean. “Those Godfrey women weren’t too lucky in love. But I heard that Carrie Ann and Michael Taylor were still on friendly terms.”

  “That’s all Jean’s doing,” Adele said. “On his own, Michael wouldn’t even talk to Carrie Ann. He carried a grudge for the longest time. But Jean wasn’t about to give up her conn
ection with the Godfreys. She owes them too much.”

  “What connection?” I asked.

  “I keep forgetting that you’ve been away for so many years,” Adele said. “I’ll give you the short version of Jean’s life. Mrs. Godfrey practically raised Jean after her mother died in a car accident. The Merriweathers lived on the same street as the Godfreys, so Jean could go back and forth between the two homes. She moved in during her teen years. Her father had remarried, and she didn’t get along with her stepmother.”

  No wonder Jean was so upset. The Godfreys were family to her, the only family she had really known.

  Laura continued the story. “Jean went to Western—just like all the Godfrey girls—and then she came back to Sudbury. She worked as an addiction counselor but burned out after a couple of years. She took up yoga and found she enjoyed it. She got herself certified, and Mrs. Godfrey and her father gave her the money to start her own studio.”

  I leaned closer to Laura. “What about Michael? How did she get involved with him?”

  “Jean had a king-size crush on him while he was married to Carrie Ann,” Adele said. “After he got divorced, she brought soup and casseroles over to his place. She made sure he took his meds and got him hooked on yoga. They went out for almost ten years before he popped the question.”

  The puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place. Michael Taylor must have been devastated when he found out that Carrie Ann had died. And Jean must have been devastated to learn that he still cared so much for his ex-wife. Or maybe Michael was feeling guilty about killing Carrie Ann. Jean would have picked up on his negative feelings. She was intuitive and seemed to know when others were hurting.

  “Earth to Gilda. Earth to Gilda.” Adele and Laura were waving frantically in my face.

  “Sorry! I was just thinking about Carrie Ann and how—” I paused. I didn’t want to share any of my theories with them. I longed to get home and call Carlo. And then I remembered that I had already spoken with him this morning. I would wait until tomorrow.

  “Omigod! You’re thinking of her dead body in that Dumpster.” Adele put her hand on top of mine. “We didn’t mean to bring that up.”