Retirement Can Be Murder

by Susan Santangelo

  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,” My Beloved said, 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 Retirement 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 made it clear he found our working together so soon 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 Beloved looked me straight in the eye again and said, “You, Carol.”

  I have to admit, that time he made me blink first.

  * * *

  * * *

  Chapter 22

  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 My Beloved 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 had an official job to do, and I was confident (ok, 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 downstairs to have some 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.”

  “Ok,” 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.

  “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 when I couldn’t start it, and kept trying and trying but the darn engine just refused to turn over.

  Linda fiddled around with a few things under the hood and then told me to try to start it again, and 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.

  “Anyway, 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 wit
h 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 e-mail 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 chance to respond to him yet. I want to think a little about how to word it. If you should happen to e-mail 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 e-mailing him. I don’t want him to feel like he’s not involved.”

  “I’ll e-mail 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 him last night that Dad’s 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.”

  “Ok, 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.”

  She 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 con-template 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?

  That’s stupid, Carol. She has to organize this memorial service, if only to make herself look good, and Jim can’t help her. He’s asked you to help her. Or rather, help him by helping her.

  I had a ridiculous thought. We could invite Dan and Marni and put the entire service on Wake Up New England. Now I was really losing it. I needed help.

  “All right, girls,” I said to the dogs. “What do we need to do first? Call Nancy or Mary Alice and brainstorm about my organizing the memorial service? Call Sheila and set up a meeting? Wait for Jim to call me and tell me he’s talked to Sheila and she’s eagerly waiting for my call?”

  Once again, the dogs looked supportive, but I wasn’t getting any clear advice from either of them as to how to proceed. Just as a test, however, I mentioned Sheila’s name and there was no response at all. Then I mentioned Nancy’s name and they both wagged their tails enthusiastically.

  They love Nancy.

  “Good choice,” I said. “We’ll call Nancy first.”

  I had my hand on the phone when it rang. Unfortunately for me, it was Mark Anderson. I had picked up the phone right away, but I was so nervous when I heard his voice that I dropped it on the kitchen floor. I could hear him faintly, saying “Hello. Hello? Mrs. Andrews? Jenny?”

  “Hi, Mark,” I said. “Sorry about that. My hands were slippery. I just washed them and they were still wet.” Shut up, Carol. He doesn’t care about that.

  “So what can I do for you this morning?” I paused and let him get a word in. I was babbling again, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  “I was hoping to catch Jenny before she left, Mrs. Andrews. Did I call early enough?”

  Relief flooded over me. He didn’t want me or Jim. This was a social call.

  “You missed her by about fifteen minutes,” I said. “She usually leaves by eight-forty-five so she can get some work done in the library before her classes start. Do you have her cell number?”

  Mark laughed, a little nervously I thought.

  “Funny you mentioned a cell phone, Mrs. Andrews. Under the circumstances, I mean.”

  He’d put me on the defensive. I ignored his reference to my cell phone debacle and continued with information about Jenny. “She had car trouble yesterday, Mark. I’m glad she has her phone with her today in case she has another problem. She was lucky it wasn’t very serious, and one of the professors at the college, Linda Burns, helped her get it started.”

  What is it about men and cars, anyway? Mark immediately wanted to know all the details of Jenny’s car problem. “She can call me anytime and I’d be glad to come and help her if I’m not on duty. I know quite a bit about fixing cars,” he announced proudly.

  “That would be a big relief to me. I hate to think of her getting stuck somewhere.” I proceeded to give him Jenny’s cell number, then decided to get a little nosy since Mark and I seemed to be getting along so well.

  “I suppose you’re not at liberty to discuss the case,” I began. “But I wondered if you’d had a chance to interview Grace Retuccio yet.”

  “My partner and I are seeing her later this morning,” Mark answered.

  “I really appreciated that tip, by the way. But you know I can’t tell you what we find out.

  “I hope you understand, Mrs. Andrews, how difficult a position I’m in right now. It’s very hard for me to be objective about Mr. Andrews because I’ve known your family for so many years, but the fact is, he did threaten Davis Rhodes, and that’s very serious. Plus, he deliberately mis-led us about his relationship with Rhodes.”

  I gave a nervous laugh. “I guess I did too, Mark. But you know I didn’t mean to.”
/>   “That doesn’t make it any less serious,” he answered stiffly.

  Oh, dear. I wondered how Mark would react if he knew that I was going to help Sheila Carney organize Rhodes’s memorial service.

  Impulsively, I said, “Before you hang up, there’s something I want to run by you. I don’t want to be accused of withholding more information from the police, and I hope you don’t think this is inappropriate.” I paused.

  “Mrs. Andrews, what are you up to?”

  “You know that the public relations agency my husband works for has taken on the Retirement Survival Center as a client, right? And that Jim had been assigned the job of organizing the memorial service for Rhodes.

  Since he won’t be doing that job, at your suggestion, the agency has asked me to take over in his place.” I know that was stretching the truth a little, but hell, Jim worked for the agency, and he’d asked me to do it. It was all the same, wasn’t it?

  I gave Mark a minute to process what I’d told him. Then, before he had a chance to tell me not to do it, I added, “You know, this could really be helpful to you in figuring out what happened to Rhodes. After all, Sheila Carney must be on your short list of suspects, and I’ll be working very closely with her on the memorial service. I promise I’ll pass anything she tells me right along to you.” As long as it’s helpful to Jim, I added silently.

  “Now, Mrs. Andrews, we don’t like private citizens interfering with police business.”

  “But I won’t be interfering,” I hastened to reassure him. “I’m going to be involved in planning the memorial service anyway. If I find out anything while I’m doing what Jim’s agency asked me to do, I’ll tell you. Unless you don’t want me to give you any additional information,” I added as a little dig.

  “I didn’t say not to tell me. Oh, hell. I know you’re going to ask questions no matter what I say. Just don’t get into trouble.”

  I assured him I would behave myself. I couldn’t help but smile, despite everything. I not only had Jim’s permission to snoop. Now, I had an unofficial blessing from the police, too.