Group, Photo, Grave (A Kiki Lowenstein Mystery)

by Slan, Joanna Campbell

  “One of your guests told an officer that your wife attacked Dr. Hyman at the country club. Frankly, I don’t see how you could have forgotten that, Robbie. You were there with her at the time.”

  The investigation was less than three hours old, and Prescott was already pointing a finger at Sheila? Clearly, Prescott was more concerned about blackening Robbie’s name than being fair.

  “With all due respect, sir, it’s not possible that Sheila hurt Dr. Hyman.”

  “Yes, well, you are too close to this situation to be objective. Don’t make this any harder than it is. I expect you and your bride to cooperate fully with Captain Gallaway.”

  “Of course, we will,” said Robbie, right before Mayor White offered a crisp goodbye and hung up.

  Robbie turned sad eyes on Sheila. “I don’t know what to say. Or do. I think I need a drink, and since I’m off duty for a while, I think I deserve one.”

  With that he walked over to the pantry and poured himself a half a glass of Bloody Mary mix. Next he opened the freezer, withdrew a bottle of Grey Goose and filled the glass with vodka. I’d never seen Robbie drink anything but an occasional beer, so this surprised me.

  I expected Sheila to throw a tantrum and start complaining about the mayor. The old Sheila would have. Instead, she turned crimson with embarrassment. Poor Robbie was paying the price for her bad behavior. Since agreeing to marry him, she’d become acutely aware that his job had a distinctly political aspect, one that she’d never had to consider previously. From what I understood, Sheila had already gotten cross-wise with Tom White. No one knew exactly how or when, and she refused to tell me, so I chalked it up to Sheila being Sheila.

  Now she propped her elbows on her tabletop and stared out her kitchen window. Robbie dropped one ice cube into his drink and said, “I’ll be in my office. Playing solitaire.”

  “Sheila, is there anything I can do?” I asked.

  “Not unless you want to play amateur sleuth and solve this crime.”

  Patting my baby bump, I said, “I think I’ll pass. But look at the bright side. This will give you a chance to spend more time with your friends.”

  “Right. Instead of spending a month in a luxury cabin on a cruise ship with my new husband, I can hang out with three other post-menopausal women. We can have tons of fun comparing our hot flashes, sagging boobs, and varicose veins. Woop-de-do!”

  Chapter 13

  Sunday evening/One day after the wedding…

  Lambert International Airport

  “Promise you’ll grab a burger when you get inside and don’t forget to call and tell me when you land in Los Angeles,” I said as I stood on tiptoes to kiss Detweiler. He hugged me tightly. The denim of his jeans felt alternately rough and smooth against my skin where my blouse separated from my waistband. I was still wearing the clothes I’d thrown on when Sheila had called in a panic. Our usual Sunday routine had definitely gotten thrown under the tour bus.

  “I won’t,” he said. “I’ll try to get back as quickly as possible.”

  We both knew that he couldn’t afford to be gone too long, especially since this trip was totally unexpected.

  Shortly after the “shoot out at the slough,” Detweiler had received a call from an attorney explaining that his first wife, Gina, had died in a car crash along with her current husband, Van Lauber. Astonishingly, Gina had left behind a little boy, Erik, Detweiler’s son. A child Detweiler didn’t know existed. He subsequently learned that Van’s sister Lorraine Lauber suffered from MS and couldn’t raise the child. The attorney wanted to know if Detweiler would be willing to come to California and take custody.

  Of course, we said, “Yes!”

  Until that fateful phone call, Detweiler had hoped to use most of his vacation to stay home with me and our new baby. However, when discussing arrangements, Lorraine Lauber had warned Detweiler that Erik was grieving. As often happens when a child is under stress, the boy was regressing. The death of his mother and the man he called his father was causing him to act much younger than five. For several nights in a row, he’d wet the bed.

  “His pediatrician advises that you spend time with him here in California before taking him home,” said Lorraine, when she talked to Detweiler over the phone. “You’re an unknown quantity. Another disruption to the only life he’s known. For Erik’s sake, I hope you won’t rush this transition.”

  We had to do what was best for Erik. Our child was due in January. If Detweiler’s trip to Los Angeles soaked up all his paid leave, we’d just have to make do. Somehow, we’d get by. Our little family was growing by leaps and bounds.

  Adding a new baby to Erik’s life was likely to cause yet another set-back, but I didn’t mention that to Detweiler. He was already feeling guilty because he’d never known about Erik. Gina had simply packed up and left Detweiler one day while he was at work. Poof! Eventually, she sent back word from California that she a.) hated being a cop’s wife, b.) detested living in a small town in southwestern Illinois, c.) didn’t want to talk about it, and d.) wanted a divorce.

  Detweiler never even knew that she was pregnant. A year passed by. At the end of twelve months, he gave up and signed the divorce papers. Later Detweiler learned that Gina had married Van Lauber, a wealthy older man. That’s why Detweiler’s son had spent the first five years of his life thinking that Lauber was his real father.

  The call about Erik couldn’t have come at a worse time. Between my ob/gyn bills and the impending birth of our child, Detweiler and I worried about making ends meet. Not only was money tight, but I’d agreed to buy Time in a Bottle, the scrapbook store where I worked. That meant a big commitment of both money and time. Two scarce resources.

  I discovered him pacing the living room floor late at night.

  “Quit worrying and come to bed,” I’d told him.

  He held out his arms to me, and I entered the security of his hug. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I always wanted kids. Always hoped to have a large family. And you know how much I love Anya.”

  “True,” I said, “but as my nana used to say, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”

  I knew he was treading water, with his dreams weighing him down as he tried to fight the current. I decided that I would be his rock. No matter what happened next, he could hang on to me as the waters of change swirled around us. That’s the sort of relationship I wanted with this man. That’s what I was determined to provide.

  Now, we stood holding each other in the drop off area at the airport. I knew I had to let him go, but I wanted to burst into tears. But I didn’t. Instead, I squeezed his hands. A sort of signal that we were united. “It will all work out,” I said, repeating his mantra.

  “Don’t forget to give Erik the books I bought him,” said Anya, leaning past me to plant a kiss on Detweiler’s cheek and hand him the Pelican hard-sided case with his gun inside. “And take lots of pictures.”

  “Spoken like the true daughter of a scrapbook store owner,” I said.

  The lanky cop rested his roll-aboard on its feet and expanded his embrace to hug both of us. “Erik is such a lucky boy to have a big sister like you, Anya-Banana. He’s going to be thrilled. I’ll be thinking about my girls the entire time I’m away. Now Anya, promise me that you’ll take good care of your mother.”

  “I will,” she said solemnly. With great reluctance, I tore myself away from the love of my life. Although I knew he was doing the right thing, I regretted that he was leaving us, especially now when Robbie was in such a bad mood and Sheila was under a cloud. Without thinking, I spread my palm over my belly. Soon there would be three children to protect. Anya, my oldest. Erik, who would join us soon. And Baby Bunting, as we laughingly called the child I was carrying.

  All we could do was take things one day at a time. Thank goodness, that’s all God sends us!

  Chapter 14

  An airport traffic cop tweeted his shrill whistle at Anya and me. “Move it!” he yelled as he waved frantically.

  I hesitated long enou
gh to see Detweiler striding through the sliding glass doors, and then Anya and I hopped into my BMW. We buckled up, and I pulled out of the drop off lane.

  “What do you suppose Erik will look like?” wondered Anya.

  “I hope he looks like Detweiler,” I said. “I wish they would have sent photos.”

  “Me, too,” she agreed. “But maybe his parents just weren’t picture people. Some folks aren’t, you know. But I can’t wait to see him. I like the fact that we’ll be a family, whether we look like it or not. Sherrie Glover has a sister who’s from China, and they look nothing alike, but that’s still cool. But if I had my way, I’d like for people to be able to tell that we’re related. Detweiler and his sisters look kinda alike. You and Amanda look a lot alike. I think that’s neat. That’s a problem with being an only child. Nobody looks like you. Well, not much. Parents don’t count. Grandparents either.”

  I smiled to myself. Detweiler and I had prepared ourselves for Anya to be upset by this turn of events. With the addition of Erik, she would be losing the limelight as an only child even before I gave birth. Fortunately for us, my daughter seemed comfortable with the change. In fact, she had shown a tremendous amount of empathy for the little boy who lost both his parents in a car accident. I was very proud of her.

  As I pulled onto I-70, my phone rang. “How’s my favorite niece?” chirped Aunt Penny.

  I laughed. “You better not let Amanda hear you say that.”

  “She’s an old stickin-the-mud. I told her I wanted to go to I-Hop for pancakes, and she pointed out that I’m too short to pack on extra weight. I told her that my weight was none of her business. She told me to go where the sun don’t shine. Now I’m looking around for reasonable people who will eat breakfast any meal of the day. You game? Anya with you? Can she come, too?”

  “You don’t have to ask us twice. We missed our pancake breakfast this morning, so we’d love a chance to make up the deficit.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Aunt Penny, “because I was planning to dial numbers at random until I found someone willing to eat with me.”

  Chapter 15

  Same day…

  IHOP off of Brentwood

  Twenty minutes later, Anya and I sat across from Dorothy, of Wizard of Oz fame. At least, that’s how Aunt Penny was dressed. I ignored the stares from other patrons. We weren’t that far from Kansas, so honestly, Aunty Penny didn’t look that odd. At least not in my opinion. My diminutive aunt ordered a stack of banana pecan pancakes, two eggs over easy, a double order of bacon, and hash browns. If the waiter was impressed, he didn’t show it.

  “Make that two,” said Anya.

  “Three,” I chimed in.

  “Where’s the list of suspects?” asked Aunt Penny. I’d filled her in on Dr. Hyman’s murder as we drove from U City to the nearest IHOP, just off of Brentwood.

  “Excuse me?” I set down my tea cup with a clatter.

  “You are planning to investigate, aren’t you?”

  I shook my head vigorously. “No. No way. I’m leaving this to Prescott.”

  “Prescott? He’s the short little guy with the corn cob up his—”

  “You noticed!” I stopped Aunt Penny from finishing her statement. “He’s also agitating for Robbie’s job. If I get in the middle of this, my actions could be used against Robbie.”

  “That and Detweiler isn’t here to get you out of a jam.” Anya giggled.

  “Hey! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I said.

  “By shooting your way out of a tough spot,” said Anya. “Mom, I hope you don’t plan on doing that again.”

  “Certainly not. Besides, they still are holding my gun at the police station. It takes forever to get evidence released, I guess. You’d think I’d have it back by now, but no.”

  Aunt Penny reached for her handbag. “I bought one yesterday. You want it?”

  “No!” I nearly shouted. “Please, no!”

  “I think you should take it, Mom,” said Anya. “You run into trouble a lot. More than any mother I know. Carrying a gun makes sense for you.”

  “Are you two out of your minds? I’m pregnant!”

  “We aren’t asking the baby to shoot,” said Aunt Penny.

  “But we are suggesting you pack a firearm,” said Anya. “In your purse.”

  I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation. Not with two reasonably sane members of my family. “Look. I plan to sit tight and let Prescott do his job. Oh, and work on transforming my store.”

  “So how’s Dodie doing?” asked Aunt Penny.

  A thick pain clutched at my throat. My eyes blurred with tears. “She’s gone. She died three weeks ago. You were in Mexico. I guess I didn’t tell you. Remember? You were out of phone service and no Internet.”

  “Oh.” Aunt Penny shook her head. “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes, but she was suffering. At the end, she was in terrible shape.” I signaled the waiter for more ice water. That lump in my throat was too big to swallow. After he poured a glass, I continued. “She’d lost all her hair and so much weight that she was literally skin and bones. It was a blessing when she passed.”

  “But the timing was really bad,” said Anya. “Gran expected Mom to act all skippy-yippee about her wedding, and Mom’s been great, but it’s still really sad. Dodie’s husband Horace is a mess.”

  I looked at my daughter. “How do you know that? About Horace?”

  “Rebekkah told me. We chat on Facebook. She’s doing everything she can to get him back to normal, but he’s really lost without Dodie.” Anya frowned. “I really think you should check on Rebekkah, Mom. She’s kind of lost herself.”

  “Yes, you’re right, I should. Dodie asked me to keep an eye on Horace and on Rebekkah. Unfortunately, with Sheila’s wedding, I’ve been up past my eyeballs in alligators. But now, things should settle down.”

  Anya snorted and water came out her nose. “Right. Because you’re in the middle of a murder investigation.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said. “But I am kind of lost at the store without Dodie, so I can imagine how hard it is for Horace and for Rebekkah. Sort of.”

  “Do you have any plans for the store? Any changes you want to make?” asked Aunt Penny.

  “Margit suggested that they add yarns,” Anya said, “because she loves to knit and crochet. Mom is going to get certified to teach Zentangle®. Clancy suggested they try offering a variety of crafts. Since the store name is ambivalent, Time in a Bottle could mean anything, really. Mom’s having that dividing wall knocked down. They’re going to expand the store by taking over a portion of the stockroom. There’s always been too much stuff in storage.”

  I smiled. My daughter was quickly learning about retail, just as I was.

  “Sounds like tons of fun. I love swinging a sledge hammer.” My aunt winked at me.

  “Thanks, but I’ve already scheduled the work with a general contractor. This is the time to get it done. We’re slow in the summer.”

  Because the changes would put a hefty dent in my budget, I’d kept staffing to a minimum. My timeframe worked well for Laurel Wilkins, one of our staffers, who was busy with a project for her master’s degree in sociology. She was also seeing a new guy, someone she’d kept pretty quiet about. However, she’d been coming back to work soon.

  “Mom, you really need to catch up with Rebekkah,” said my daughter.

  “ You’re right. I thought she might need some space, but I shouldn’t wait to check in on her. I’ll text message her tomorrow. Maybe she’s ready to come back to work. At the very least, I’ll invite her to drop by and see us at the store.”

  Anya smiled at me. “I knew I could count on you, Mom. I told Rebekkah that she’s, like, an older sister to me. She was worried that after her mom died, you’d, well, kick her to the curb. But I told her you wouldn’t. I’m not sure she believed it, but we will stay in touch, won’t we?”

  “Abso-darn-lutely, Anya-Banana.”

  My little girl was
growing up fast. Best of all, she was turning into a lovely, thoughtful young woman.

  Chapter 16

  On the way to the car, Aunt Penny leaned close to me. “You sure I can’t help out at your store? Your mother is about to drive me nuts!”

  “I’m sure I can find something for you to do. But my budget is severely limited,” I said.

  “I’m not asking to be paid,” sniffed my aunt.

  “Good. I can always use help at the store if it’s unpaid or cheap labor. Do you qualify on either account?”

  “Yes, and I’m a recent immigrant, too. So I’ll work long hours doing thankless jobs under terrible working conditions for no benefits.”

  “That’s the American way, right?”

  She winked at me. “Besides, I pack heat. You can always use a security guard at the store.”

  “Huh. I hope not.”

  I was glad to have Aunt Penny around. She kept a smile on her face and a firearm in her pocket. You never knew what she would do next. Best of all, she was unfailingly supportive of me and my life. In almost every aspect, she was my mother’s exact opposite. I have no idea what kept them friends.

  “You need to come on in and say hi,” my aunt suggested. “Tell your mother and sister what’s up with that dead guy at the wedding.”

  I groaned and rested my forehead against the steering wheel. “How about if you tell them? I’ll drop you off, and we’ll pretend that I came in. Tell them that I had morning sickness and needed to leave. That I got sick the minute I pulled up in front of the house where my mother lives.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Bwock-bwock-bwock. I resemble that remark,” I said.

  “Come on,” said Aunt Penny. “Your sister will probably have a few questions that I can’t answer. She might even have seen something at the wedding that would be helpful. You owe it to her to stay involved with your mom. It can’t all rest on Amanda’s shoulders.”

  My aunt was right. Amanda did almost everything for our mother. Partially because Mom loved her best. But honestly, that was a lousy trade off, because my mother was a giant pimple on the backside of the world. Amanda’s world in particular. Since my sister moved here, I had a better idea of all she did for our mother, and she had a better idea of the challenges I was facing in life. Without a doubt, I had the better end of the deal. My mom was a real pill, and I often felt guilty about how much she demanded of my sister.