1 Catered to Death

by Marlo Hollinger

  “Junebug invited me over tonight and I said yes,” Ruth said with a small shrug. “She’s the only one in the whole school who ever asks me to parties.”

  “That was nice of her,” I replied, remembering how hurt Ruth had been when she’d been dissed by the other teachers the day of the fatal luncheon.

  “I suppose,” Ruth agreed, “but that’s only because Junebug thinks I might know something.”

  I glanced down at her wine glass and saw that it was almost empty. Was this going to be another in vino veritas moment and was I going to take advantage of it? You bet I was. “Oh? What do you mean?”

  “Well, Junebug happened to discover that Frank and I had once been…close.”

  Make that very close, as in fathered-my-child close but I didn’t point that out to Ruth. “How did she find that out?”

  Ruth blushed. “Frank and I were having a discussion in his office one day over child support and Junebug overheard us. She was checking her mailbox but she should have made her presence known. Anyway, ever since then she’s liked me better. I think she thinks that if someone like Frank Ubermann would have an affair with someone like me, I might be socially worthwhile after all.”

  It took all of my self-control not to grab Ruth by her shoulders and shake her. “You are socially worthwhile,” I assured her, “whatever that means.”

  “You know what I mean.” Ruth gestured toward Junebug’s huge backyard. “Junebug has money and status. All I have is a job that I got from blackmailing the boss.”

  Ruth was certainly honest about how she’d landed her position. “Ruth, why would you want to be friends with anyone if they only liked you because you had slept with the boss?”

  “You have a point.” Ruth sighed. “It doesn’t really matter though. Now that Frank’s gone I’m pretty sure that I’ll be cut from Junebug’s list anyway.”

  If I were Ruth, I wouldn’t be too sad about that. “So what’s been happening at the school?” I inquired. “Any leads on who killed Monica?”

  “The police think it might have been an accident.”

  “An accident? She was found underneath a school bus!”

  “I guess they’re speculating that she fell and rolled under the bus.”

  Something told me that the Kemper police department wasn’t sharing everything it knew with the staff at Eden Academy. “What do you think happened?”

  “Well, it’s possible that she fell but it seems far more likely that someone killed her.”

  “That’s what I think too. But who?”

  Ruth shook her head. “All I know is that it wasn’t you and it wasn’t me since we were together when Monica died.”

  Good point. “How’s the food taste? I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this but I’d love to know what a guest thinks. My taste testers are all related to me so they aren’t what I’d call objective.”

  “I’m not eating. A moment on the lips, forever on the hips. That’s what Claudine always says.”

  “I wish I could remember that when I’m about to eat half of a cheesecake,” I said with a laugh. “Are you the only one from the school here tonight?”

  “No, I’m sure some others will show up.” Ruth peered over my shoulder and I saw her face drop. “Oh, my. There is someone else from Eden Academy here, well, sort of. I didn’t know Sylvia was coming tonight.”

  “Sylvia?”

  “Sylvia Ubermann.” Ruth gestured with her chin toward Frank Ubermann’s widow who had just emerged from the screened porch. Sylvia was wearing a red and white striped dress and her hair was pulled up into a pony tail that was held by a ring of fabric daisies. She looked about twelve years old. All she needed was a lollipop to complete the picture.

  I turned back to Ruth as it occurred to me that Frank might have been married to Sylvia at the time he’d had his affair with Ruth. “Sylvia doesn’t know about Amanda, does she?” Again, none of my business but that hadn’t stopped me yet.

  “No. That’s how I got my job and kept it all these years. He never wanted Sylvia to know.”

  What a mess. I liked Ruth and I couldn’t blame her for doing what she felt she had to do, but the entire situation was way too icky for me to be comfortable with.

  Sylvia spotted Ruth and started to walk toward her. “I should check on the food,” I said, sure that Sylvia Ubermann wasn’t interested in talking with me.

  “Please don’t go,” Ruth requested, laying a cool hand on my arm. “Sylvia won’t make a scene if you’re here.”

  I hesitated, not really wanting to stay but not wanting to abandon Ruth either. The woman seemed so alone in the world. “Why would she make a scene?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she found out about Amanda.” Ruth’s face had grown white. “I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

  “Buck up,” I muttered as Sylvia got closer. “How could she have found out? Who would tell her?”

  Ruth relaxed a little bit. “True,” she said softly. “No one knew but Frank and me. And possibly Junebug.”

  “Ruth,” Sylvia said when she reached the spot where we were standing. She didn’t seem angry at Ruth. If anything, Sylvia seemed a lot better than she had at the book club.

  “Hello, Sylvia.”

  “Such a tragedy about poor Monica.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going on at that school anyway?”

  I began to slink away since Ruth seemed to be doing fine on her own.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Ruth assured her.

  Turning her head, Sylvia seemed to notice me for the first time. “You again?”

  “Yes?” I asked, feeling suddenly quite timid, although why Sylvia Ubermann would create that kind of response, I wasn’t sure. The woman was about as threatening as a sprinkler set on Low.

  “What perfect timing. I want to have a word with you.”

  “Oh? About what?” My stubbornly optimistic streak thought that maybe Sylvia wanted to hire me to cater Frank’s memorial service. But as Sylvia closed the short space between the two of us, I seriously doubted that was the reason Frank Ubermann’s widow wanted to talk to me.

  “About the lunch you catered. Didn’t you know that my Frank was allergic to shellfish?”

  “What? No one told me. He didn’t say a word and he ate my seafood casserole.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t have. Shellfish always made Frank break out in hives. It just kills me to think that his last meal was something that didn’t agree with him.”

  I didn’t point out that it didn’t really matter any longer since Frank Ubermann hadn’t lived long enough to break out in anything. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Sylvia sniffed long and hard. “You should be. It’s a caterer’s duty to find out what the guests can and can’t eat.”

  Although I’m the very last person in the universe to ever defend extra-marital affairs, I was beginning to understand why Frank had sought the company of other women. Sylvia was a real pain.

  “How are we doing, ladies?” Junebug asked, joining our cozy little circle. “Sylvia, what are you doing here? Did I invite you?”

  “Of course you did and I’m glad that I came. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had this opportunity to talk to your caterer.”

  “What the Sam hill do you want to talk to Doris about?” Junebug asked.

  “DeeDee,” Ruth and I corrected simultaneously.

  “Whatever. Now what’s up, Sylvia?”

  “I was just telling the caterer how incompetent she is. She served a seafood casserole and Frank was allergic to shellfish.” Sylvia glared at me one more time.

  “Then he shouldn’t have eaten it,” Junebug said. “Now get yourself another drink and let’s party. There’s some more of the gang from school here. Let’s just let our hair down and forget everything bad that’s happened lately.”

  “How can we possibly forget that my husband was murdered?” Sylvia demanded.

  Junebug shrugged. “Just don’t think about it,” she suggested.


  It was good advice that was obviously working for Junebug. “I need to check the food,” I said, excusing myself.

  “Check to make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Sylvia said acidly. “For all we know, you’re behind Frank’s murder.”

  I stared back at her. I’m not a violent person but Sylvia Ubermann was pushing me to the edge. “I didn’t poison your husband,” I began, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d shut up.”

  “Did you hear that? The caterer poisoned someone! Good God, I just ate four bowls of chili!” a voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd. “I feel sick!”

  Panic seemed to sweep through the crowd. “I didn’t do anything,” I protested.

  “Hold on a minute,” Junebug shouted in a voice that was easily three times bigger than she was and did an effective job of shutting up her guests. “Hold on for one red hot minute! Now, Sylvia, Frank had an arrow sticking out of his chest so shut up about him being poisoned. You’re scaring my guests.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sylvia said in the same tone that Tyler used to use when we made him apologize to Jane. She glanced over at me. “I just find it quite odd that no one died at Eden Academy until you showed up.”

  “What are you talking about?” I spluttered, looking around for a friendly face and seeing none. Finally I spotted Tyler standing at the edge of the partygoers, his face concerned as he listened to Sylvia rant.

  “The police are going to want to talk to you,” Sylvia warned. “I’m sure they’re looking for you as we speak.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop being such a ninny, Sylvia,” Junebug instructed. “You’re putting a regular death pall over my party. Now get a grip and think for once in your life. Why would Doris here want to kill Frank? She didn’t even know him.”

  “She says she didn’t know him,” Sylvia responded. “As much as it pains me to say it, I’ve heard that one before and always from women like her.” She winced. “I know that Frank could be something of a flirt. I’m guessing that she––” Sylvia glared at me, “mistook some innocent flirting for real interest and then killed him when she realized that he wasn’t serious.”

  This woman was completely unreal. “I knew him for about an hour! How could I decide I was in love with your husband enough to want to kill him that fast? You’re making me sound like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction.”

  “Mom,” Tyler stepped forward and took my arm, “come on. You don’t need to listen to this crap.”

  “All I’m saying is that no one had ever heard of you before and then you show up and Frank dies. It seems very odd to me,” Sylvia said.

  “That is plain stupid,” I responded.

  “So did she or didn’t she poison the chili?” I heard another guest ask.

  “Come on, Mom,” Tyler said.

  Dazed, I followed him through the crowd. “I have no idea what she’s talking about,” I whispered to Tyler as we walked away from Sylvia.

  “Everyone knows that. You’re about the last person in the world who could ever kill someone. That lady is nuts.”

  Although I agreed with my son’s assessment of Sylvia Ubermann, my mom instinct kicked in. Steve and I had raised Tyler and Jane to never call other people names and never to label anyone. “She’s misguided,” I corrected, “and very wrong.”

  “She’s crazy,” Tyler said flatly. “You could tell by the look in her eyes. Who is she, anyway?”

  “Her husband is the man who was killed during my first catering job,” I explained.

  “So? You didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “Apparently Sylvia Ubermann thinks otherwise.”

  “That whole school sounds like a death trap anyway,” Tyler observed. “First, the principal gets it and then that other lady.”

  “How did you hear about Monica Webber’s death?”

  Tyler shrugged. “A friend of mine was…dating her.”

  I stopped walking as my eyebrows zoomed directly to my hairline. Most of Tyler’s friends looked just like Tyler: tattooed, pierced and a little scary. I couldn’t imagine someone like Monica with one of them. Plus Monica had to have been at least fifteen years older than Tyler and his friends. “You’re kidding me! Who?”

  “No one you’d know. We aren’t really friends. We just hang out together sometimes.”

  “So how do you know he was dating Monica?”

  “Are you kidding me? He told everyone they were dating. He wanted to marry her as soon as he got his sentencing thing straightened out.”

  “Do you know if she wanted to marry him or did he just have an active fantasy life?”

  Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know but it sounded like they were going to get married. They’d booked a club for the reception and everything. He’s pretty broken up over her death.”

  Wow. So Monica had someone other than Frank in her life. “Does your friend have any idea of who might have wanted to see Monica dead?”

  “No clue. Look, Mom, I think you should go home before that woman starts accusing you of something again. You can take my car. I’ll stay behind and tend the bar.”

  “Thank you, darling,” I said grateful for Tyler’s sudden take charge attitude, “but I can’t do that. This is my job and I’m going to see it through to the end.”

  “Whatever you say,” Tyler responded, “but I’ll be nearby if you need me. Just don’t go near that crazy woman.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, kissing Tyler on the cheek.

  Ruth joined us. “That Sylvia,” she said. “Imagine accusing you of killing Frank! That woman has always been impossible. I don’t know what Frank ever saw in her other than her money.”

  “Maybe that was enough. You don’t think anyone believed her, do you?” I asked.

  “Of course not. Why would you kill him and Monica? It had to be done by the same person.”

  “That’s just what I was telling her,” Tyler said. “Would you like a refill?”

  Ruth handed him her empty wine glass. “I sure would.” She looked at me. “You’re so lucky to have a son like him,” Ruth said. “It must be nice having someone you can depend on.”

  She spoke so wistfully that I wondered about the kind of relationship she really had with her daughter. One thing was obvious: it couldn’t be a very honest one if Amanda still didn’t know that the late Frank Ubermann was her real father. “I am lucky,” I agreed. And in spite of just being accused of murder in front of approximately fifty people, I did feel pretty lucky. I had Steve, my kids, my new business and a clear conscience. All I needed was that darn first paycheck from Eden Academy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Dee Dee, anyone who knows you for more than five minutes would realize that the odds of you offing Frank Ubermann are about the same as the Cubs taking the pennant,” Steve told me later that night as I filled him in on the McClellan’s party.

  “It’s still scary to think that I’m getting painted with same brush as everyone else who works at that stupid school. It isn’t fair. Why would Sylvia think I could have had anything to do with her husband’s death? Or Monica’s? I have absolutely no motive.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You just had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Do you suppose that everyone in Kemper thinks I might have done it?”

  “Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

  “I do.” I got up from the kitchen table and began to heat some milk in a saucepan. “I feel like I’ve gotten on a treadmill and someone has cranked up the speed way out of my comfort zone.”

  “You have to consider the source, DeeDee. Sylvia Ubermann sounds like an angry, bitter woman.”

  “Well, considering her husband’s reputation with the ladies I don’t suppose that’s all that unexpected. Then again, at the book club meeting I heard her tell another member how faithful Frank was to her. She seemed truly devastated. This whole thing is confusing the daylights out of me.”

  Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do you think she believes that—th
at he was faithful to her?”

  “Not really. I mean, if you were running around on me, I’d deny it to the rest of the world too. Although I wouldn’t deny it to myself.”

  “Not to worry,” Steve said, getting up and walking to the counter where I was standing. He gave me a warm hug that felt wonderful. “I’d never run around on you. You know that. We were made for each other.”

  “And also because you know that if you did run around on me, I’d kill you.” I slapped my hand over her mouth. “Oh, Steve! I didn’t mean that!”

  Steve hugged me a little harder. “I know what you meant.”

  “But maybe Sylvia did kill Frank.”

  “And it sounds like he gave her ample reasons to want to see him dead.”

  “But why would she kill Monica? A cheating husband is one thing but an innocent bystander is something else.”

  “You’re assuming the same person killed both of them.”

  “Do you think there’s more than one murderer on the loose?”

  Steve shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

  “But why?”

  “Well, obviously there’s a link there that neither of us can see.” Steve yawned widely. “Honey, do you suppose that we can just forget about it for the rest of tonight? The more you think about Sylvia and Frank and Monica, the longer it’s going to take you to settle down.”

  “I’m settling down,” I assured him as I poured the warm milk into a mug with MOM written across its side. “I feel a lot better just being home with you.”

  “Drink your milk and then come to bed.”

  “You don’t want any?”

  “No, I’m too tired.”

  “One good thing about tonight,” I said before Steve left the kitchen. “Tyler was awesome. Really wonderful. He came through for me wonderfully, Steve. You would have been proud of him.”

  “I always knew the kid had it in him.” He yawned again and I could see that he was about to fall asleep on his feet.