by Lois Winston
“I told Mark already. Unfortunately, when Nancy and I got back from Westfield, he was waiting for me. He wanted to ask me more questions about Dad’s and my relationship with Davis Rhodes. And unfortunately, none of this lets Dad off the hook.”
When Jenny heard about my cell phone arriving at police headquarters under such mysterious circumstances, together with the note about checking the voice mail messages, she realized why I was so upset. “This could be damaging, but it doesn’t have to be,” my sensible daughter pointed out. “Somebody, obviously not you, sent the phone to the police. Can’t they check the package for fingerprints or something, and find out who did it?”
“I never thought to suggest that to Mark,” I admitted. “I’m sure that’s done automatically. At least, it is in all the mystery books I read.”
I was beginning to realize how little a real life murder investigation resembled those books I’d read over the years. One would think that all that reading would have given me tips on investigating a crime, but sadly, it hadn’t. Where were my little gray cells when I needed them? They probably self-destructed due to hot flash overload.
“Mark left here a little while before you came home with Linda,” I said. “He was on his way to the Center to question your father and Sheila Carney. He warned me not to call there and let your father know that he was coming. I feel like such a traitor. But I’m glad that Mark is on the case. I have to believe he’ll do everything he can to get this mess cleared up and find the person who was responsible for Rhodes’s death.”
“He better,” said Jenny, “or the next time he calls me for a coffee date, I’ll slam the phone down right in his ear.”
~*~
Jim came home from the Center two hours later, very subdued and upset. I think the reality of his situation was finally beginning to sink in. He tried to put up his usual brave front when Jenny was around, but when she went upstairs to do some work on her computer, he took out his anxiety on the handiest person—me.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call and warn me that the police were coming to question me, Carol. Do you enjoy seeing me in trouble? Mark had that odious partner of his with him, which made things even worse. He kept threatening to take me downtown if I didn’t cooperate. Damn it, I was cooperating! And I couldn’t reach Larry, either. Where the hell is everybody when I need them?”
“I wanted to call you,” I answered in my defense, “but Mark told me not to. Ordered me, in fact. Nancy was here, and she’ll tell you the same thing. Larry and Claire have gone to the Berkshires for a few days, but I’m sure he’s reachable on his cell phone.” Oops. Probably shouldn’t have mentioned the words “cell phone.”
“That’s another thing,” Jim said. “Where did you lose your blasted cell phone? How could you be so careless? And why didn’t you erase my voice mail message as soon as you heard it?” Jim ran his fingers through what was left of his hair. “God, with family support like this, I’ll probably end up in prison.”
I knew Jim was frantic, but that didn’t make being the convenient scapegoat for his tirade any easier for me. I felt miserable enough about the cell phone debacle without his rubbing it in.
“I don’t remember where I lost it,” I snapped back. “If I knew where I’d lost it, I would have found it, right?” Well, that logic made sense to me. “What I’d like to know is, who did find it and turned it into the police anonymously. Who would want to cause us so much grief?”
I crossed the room and put my arms around him. “Honey, I love you. I do.” We held each other tight, just for a minute. “I would never, ever, deliberately do anything to cause you pain. I only want what’s best for you. Please, believe me. We are in this together, and we’ll get out of it together.”
Hell, truth be told, I didn’t trust Jim to get himself out of this mess on his own. He seemed to be getting in deeper and deeper. I conveniently ignored the part my own carelessness had played in his plight. Couldn’t dwell on that now.
It looked like Mark Anderson was on our side, but I wasn’t so sure how much help he could be without jeopardizing his job. I was positive he would do the best he could, because he wanted to stay in our (that is, Jenny’s) good graces. But the bottom line was, Mark was one of the policemen assigned to this case. Hmm. That did have its plus side, because he would be privy to inside information, if I could just get him to share it with me.
Think positive, Carol. You can do this. Just be sure Jim doesn’t know what you’re up to, because he’ll tell you not to interfere.
I decided it was time Jim knew what Nancy and I had found out about his precious Davis Rhodes. “Sit down a minute,” I said. “I have some things to tell you. Just hear me out, and maybe you’ll decide that things aren’t as bleak as they seem.” I held out a kitchen chair for him and repeated, “Sit.”
“Who do you think I am, Lucy or Ethel?” Jim said, with just a trace of his old humor. “I hope it’s not a long story. I have to reach Larry tonight before it gets too late.”
I tried not to be annoyed. Jim had already decided that what I was going to tell him wasn’t important.
I started with my visit to Maria’s Trattoria to plan the retirement shower for Mary Alice, and some of the information I got from her about Davis Rhodes.
Jim immediately interrupted me. “When did Mary Alice decide to retire? You never told me that.”
“I forgot to tell you with everything else that’s been going on. But don’t concentrate on that right now. You have to hear what I found out about Davis Rhodes.” Then I told him about Nancy and her Realtors’ network, and how we managed to track down and talk to Davis Rhodes’s wife.
Jim was not impressed when I informed him that Grace had come up with so much of the concept for the Re-tirement Survival Center. “She could have been exaggerating how important her contribution was, Carol.”
“But, don’t you see, it was when Rhodes asked her for a divorce that she decided to come east and confront him. She didn’t want to take a chance on losing her share of the Center’s profits.” That made perfect sense to me.
I decided to skip the part about “Davis Rhodes” being the professional name of Dick Retuccio. Jim’s eyes were looking a little glassy already at all the information I was throwing at him. But I could tell he thought what Nancy and I had uncovered was helpful.
“You two are quite the detectives. Did you tell the police about the scorned wife?”
“Of course I did. I told Mark all about her when he was here this afternoon. He was very grateful, and said he was going to check her out. She seems to have a very strong motive for wanting Rhodes out of the way, don’t you think? More of a motive than you.”
“I didn’t have a motive for wanting Rhodes out of the way,” Jim countered. “Hell, I just wanted to promote the guy and his retirement concept. Like I’d do for any client. It’s not my fault things worked out the way they did.” Jim was starting to get angry again. Not that I blamed him.
“I know you better than anybody,” Jimsaid, glaring at me. “I’m willing to bet you believe that you, and only you, can straighten out this whole thing. Am I right? Be honest with me, Carol. Come on, admit it.”
I looked right back at him. This was a classic husband-wife standoff. Who would blink first?
“I know you don’t like me to meddle, but this time, I can really help,” I responded with more assurance than I felt. “Please let me. I promise that anything I find out, or Nancy finds out, or Claire or Mary Alice, we’ll bring it right to Mark Anderson.” As long as what we find out will help you, not make things worse for you, I added silently.
“Well, call me crazy, but I don’t see how you could make things much worse,” Jim grudgingly admitted. “I already know I shouldn’t have gone to the Re-tirement Survival Center to see Sheila Carney about Rhodes’s memorial service. Even if the agency did assign me to the job, I should have delegated that assignment to someone else on the staff. That twit Paul Wheeler made it clear he found our working together so s
oon after Rhodes’s death very suspicious. Mark walked me to my car after he finished questioning Sheila and me, and he suggested strongly that I not do any work on the Center account for the time being. He wants me to find somebody else to help Sheila organize the memorial ceremony. I thought about what he said all the way home and realized I have to do what Mark suggested. I have no choice. I thought about who I could get to take over for me, and I’ve come up with the perfect person. She’s someone Sheila already knows, and even better than that, she’s someone who could make Sheila open up about her relationship with Rhodes. Who knows? Maybe Sheila did want to take over the Center. That’s a pretty good motive for wanting him dead.”
“That’s fabulous,” I said. “Who is it?”
My husband looked me straight in the eye again and said, “You, Carol.”
I have to admit, that time he made me blink first.
TWENTY-TWO
Q: Name another perk of retirement.
A: You can sit around and watch the sunset—if you can stay up that late.
The next morning, I was up and in the shower very early. I wanted a chance to talk to Jim again about how to deal with Sheila. I’d come up with a brilliant plan, naturally, but I figured I’d better run my idea by him before he headed off to the train, just to be sure we were both on the same wavelength.
It was not to be.
Just as I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I heard Jim talking to me through the shower door. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying because the running water was louder than the sound of his voice. Risking getting shampoo in my eyes, I turned off the shower and stuck my head out the door. “Jim, Jim, don’t leave yet,” I screamed. “I want to talk to you about Sheila.”
I heard the side door slam and his car start up. I had to laugh at the irony of the situation. Usually, I spend a lot of time not telling Jim things. Like major clothing purchases—”What? Don’t you remember this old thing? I wore it out to dinner in New York last month.” Most wives know that drill.
This time, I wanted to talk to Jim, and he was off to work before I had the chance. I wondered if he’d tell his boss he’d delegated the planning of the Davis Rhodes memorial to me. I was thrilled I had an official job to do, and I was confident (okay, maybe more hopeful than confident) that I was up to the challenge.
As I was toweling myself dry, I allowed myself another fantasy. In this one, Jim was actually on trial, and it wasn’t looking good for him at all. At the very last minute, right before the jury was certain to find him guilty, I rushed into the courtroom, followed closely by Nancy, Claire and Mary Alice—my “associates”—and dramatically announced to the judge, “Release this prisoner, Your Honor. I have irrefutable evidence that Mr. Andrews did not commit any crime.”
Jim burst into tears. Of course. “Honey, I knew you’d save me!”
In this fantasy, by the way, I was a perfect size 6 with long, lush blonde hair and I was wearing a chic black designer suit and stiletto heels. Think of Reese Witherspoon wowing the jury in Legally Blonde. Hell, this was my fantasy and I could imagine anything I wanted.
My reverie was interrupted by Jenny, who’d overheard me on her way into the kitchen to have breakfast. “Mom? Do you know you’re talking to yourself?”
I jumped. “You scared me.”
“Mom, you scared me. What the heck were you saying, anyway? And don’t deny it. I heard you.”
“Okay,” I confessed, slightly chagrined, “you caught me. I admit I’ve been known to talk to myself, although usually I’m talking to Lucy and Ethel. This time, I was practicing defending your father in case we end up in court.” I saw her stricken look and caught myself. “Not that I think we will end up in court, honey. But I was having this great fantasy about being the one who saves the day. I guess you must think I’m a little crazy.”
“No more than usual,” Jenny said with a grin, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go get some coffee and you can tell me all about your fantasy to save Dad.”
Fortunately, Jenny had a little extra time to spare before leaving that morning, so we could catch up a little. “What about your car?” I asked her while I rummaged in the refrigerator for some milk. “With everything that happened here last night, I never asked you what was wrong with it. Are you going to have our mechanic check it?”
“I’ll see how the car is this morning,” Jenny said, “but apparently what happened was no big deal. Linda Burns took a look at it yesterday afternoon and said it was some sort of fluky thing that probably would never happen again. I was lucky she happened to be in the parking lot when I couldn’t get the car started. I guess I panicked and kept trying and trying but the darn engine just refused to turn over and catch. Linda fiddled around with a few things under the hood and then told me to try to start it again. This time, it worked like a charm. She insisted on following me home just in case I had another problem, though.”
So now dear Linda was an automotive expert, too?
Jenny gave me a knowing look. “I know she’s not one of your all-time favorite people. But I think she has a good heart, and she’s been terrific to me at school. I’m going to drive the car today and see what happens. I’ll have my cell phone in case I have a problem.”
I stiffened.
“Sorry,” Jenny said. “I should know that mentioning ‘cell phone’ to you is a no-no. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No problem, sweetie,” I said, pouring some granola into a cereal bowl for her. “You know, driving your father’s old car to school every day, with more than one-hundred-thousand miles on it, was a breakdown waiting to happen. It was so nice of Linda to help you, and be sure you got home safely.” Though she did use one of my good guest towels, I reminded myself.
“Since you started teaching at Fairport College with her, you’ve shown me a side of Linda I never knew existed,” I said magnanimously. “Maybe she’s not as self-centered as I always thought she was. She even offered to help me arrange the retirement shower for Mary Alice. I never knew she and Mary Alice were that close, but she certainly seemed sincere. And who knows? She could have some good ideas.” So there. I could turn the other cheek when pushed hard enough.
I poured us both a little more coffee. I know I was stalling for time. It’s hard to admit to your child that you’ve screwed up, big time.
“As far as my cell phone is concerned,” I went on, my voice getting a little shaky, “if I’d paid more attention to where the heck I left it, your father wouldn’t be in so much trouble. I’ll never forgive myself for not erasing his voice mail message. Who knew it could sound so incriminating? I’d love to get my hands on the person who found it and turned it in to the police.”
“Can’t go back and take a do over on it,” said Jenny, giving my hand a squeeze. “You always told me not to look back, just keep moving forward, if you want to solve a problem. So, what’s your grand plan to get Dad off the hook? And what’s he going to say when he finds out what you’re up to?”
“Well, Miss Smart Aleck, as a matter of fact, I’m doing this with your father’s blessing. In fact, it was his idea.”
Jenny looked skeptical. “That doesn’t compute. Mike and I were always amazed at some of the things you’d pull on Dad, and he was never the wiser. Like the time you hired a cleaning woman, remember? He never caught on that the reason the house started looking so good was not that you were working so hard on it, but that you had someone come in once a week to spiff it up.”
My goodness. What a terrible example I had been giving to my children all these years.
“Well, I’m turning over a new leaf,” I proclaimed. “And before I forget, I got an email from Mike last night. He said you’ve been keeping him up to date on what’s going on here.”
“Well, he’s part of this family too. I hope you’re not mad at me, but I thought he had a right to know.”
“I’m not mad, sweetie. I’m glad that you’ve been telling him about the latest family crisis. I haven’t had a cha
nce to respond to him yet. I want to think a little about how to word it. If you should happen to email him today, will you please assure him that it’s not necessary for him to get on the next plane and come home? Maybe I should call him instead of emailing him. I don’t want him to feel like he’s not involved.”
“I’ll email him for you, Mom. But there is a way he can help, even though he’s in Florida. If there’s anything at all you want checked out on the web that might help Dad, ask Mike to do it. You wouldn’t believe how computer savvy he is. He’s found out some amazing stuff for me that I’ve been able to use when I’m teaching. Give him a job to do.”
I hadn’t thought of doing research on the web. I wondered if Mike could check out Grace and Dick Retuccio, to see if the story she told Nancy and me was on the level. I filed that idea away to think about later. And hoped I’d remember it. Just to be sure, I scribbled a note to myself on a paper towel.
Jenny looked at her watch. “I have to go in a few minutes. Are you going to tell me what Dad asked you to do?”
“He needs someone to work with Sheila Carney and help organize Davis Rhodes’s memorial service. Mark suggested to Dad last night that his being closely involved with the Center so soon after Rhodes’s death was not a good idea. Of course, I told him that too, but your father didn’t listen to my advice.”
“Okay, Mom. So…?”
“So, Dad said he thought I would be the perfect person to help Sheila. After all, she already knows me, and he said—and these are his exact words—that she may open up to me if I ask her a few questions about her relationship with Rhodes.”
“Wow, Mom. Just what you’ve always wanted. Permission to snoop.” Jenny gave me a quick hug. “I’ve got to leave now. Keep me posted if you can. Good luck with Sheila.”
~*~
Once again, I had the house to myself. Correction: Lucy and Ethel and I had the house to ourselves. I sat down at the kitchen table to contemplate how exactly I was going to win Sheila’s confidence. What would I say to her when I called her? What if she didn’t want me to be involved at all?