“Go to bed,” I instructed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. I really do feel better. Thanks, Steve.”
But as soon as Steve left the kitchen, I felt my face set in lines of worry. This had all gone far enough. Before sitting down at the kitchen table, I grabbed a yellow legal pad out of a drawer along with a felt tip pen. After thinking for a few moments, I began to write.
Steps to follow to find out who murdered Frank Ubermann:
1. Who was at the luncheon?
2. Who had reason to want to see F.U. dead?
3. Who took F.U.’s job after he died?
4. How much money did F.U.’s wife inherit?
5. Who is the least likely suspect?
6. Who is the most likely suspect?
7. How the hell will I get paid now that Monica is dead?
I studied the list with a frown. Maybe if Steve helped me, I could figure some of this out. I needed his help because so far I hadn’t really found out all that much other than the ice cold fact that working at Eden Academy was very dangerous for one’s health.
Steve reappeared in the kitchen, his hair still tousled but not looking quite as out of it. “Dee Dee,” he said. “We need to talk. You can’t do this on your own. You need my help.”
“Can you read my mind or what?” I asked. It was times like this when I really loved my husband. Of course, I always love Steve but I truly wonder how many husbands would offer to help their wives solve a murder? No doubt about it, Steve was one in a million. “I’ve been feeling a little bit overwhelmed with all of this but are you sure you want to get into this now? Don’t you want to go to bed?”
“We will, but right now I need to get a game plan in action before I can sleep. I think we should make up a list of what we should tackle first.”
“That’s just what I was doing!” I showed Steve my list. He pulled his glasses out of his robe pocket and began to read. “Oh, Steve, thank you. I know we’ll crack this together. It’s been tough doing it on my own.”
“You’ve been doing fine,” Steve assured me, his eyes still focused on the list. “I’m just thinking that maybe I can get information out of some of the suspects that’s been eluding you. They’re all identifying you with that luncheon, so, of course, they aren’t going to share all that much with you. Maybe they’ll tell me more.”
“Claudine will for sure,” I said. “She obviously has a weakness for attractive men. And Junebug will talk to you. She’s very friendly in her own peculiar kind of way.”
“Do you think Junebug has any reason to want Frank dead other than the fact that he wanted her to leave?”
“None that I know of. I think she wasn’t too happy that he was pushing her out the door and I also think she was getting her revenge by refusing to leave. I heard her mention at the party tonight that she has a lawyer on retainer.”
“How could anyone who works for a school afford to keep a lawyer on retainer?” Steve questioned, looking up from the list. “Especially a private school like Eden Academy. That can’t pay too well.”
“Junebug has bucks. Big bucks. You should see their house, Steve. They live up in Equestrian Estates in a gorgeous place.”
“So why does she work?”
“It’s her way of getting her taxes back,” I explained. “Junebug told Ruth that she pays so much in taxes that she looks at what she gets from the school as her just due.”
“Kind of hazy reasoning but I suppose I can sort of see her point—although if she lives in Equestrian Estates I’m guessing that she has more than enough money to pay her taxes and then some. So Junebug is a possible suspect,” Steve mused, “but probably a pretty unlikely one. I’ll put her down as most unlikely suspect.”
“I don’t know about that,” I disagree. “When I went up to see her the other day, she was target shooting in her backyard with a bow and arrow and she was darn good.”
“Oh, yeah?” Steve drew a line through Junebug’s name. “How good?”
“Dead on, I’d say. Plus there were several trophies on her porch for all kinds of athletic events. Junebug is in great shape for her age.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t put her down as least likely?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see her being the murderer. She’s too old to risk going to prison.”
“We have to keep open minds, DeeDee. Let’s face it: everyone’s a suspect.”
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “Oh, Steve, how are we going to do this? I’m not even very good at remembering where I left my grocery list. How can we possibly think that the two of us could solve a real, live murder?”
“Because if we don’t, the police might come here and start questioning you,” Steve reminded me. “If they do, I want to be able to tell them about a group of people with far better motives than you had.”
“So what are you planning on doing?” I asked.
Steve folded the list and then put it in his robe pocket. “I’m going to talk to the staff at the school and see what I can find out.”
“How are you going to do that? You can’t say that you’re handing out cupcake samples on my behalf.”
“I don’t plan on mentioning that I’m married to you. I think it would be better if no one made any kind of connection between the two of us.”
“Ruth already met you,” I reminded him, “and so did Maxie.”
“I’ll avoid both of them, I promise. Don’t worry; I’ll think of something.”
“Did you know you’re wonderful?”
“Not really. Just highly protective of the woman I love.”
I leaned over and kissed him. Steve was wonderful and I was very happy that I was married to him and not some player like the late Frank Ubermann. Honestly, I don’t know how Sylvia had put up with that man and his shenanigans for so many years. If it turned out that Sylvia had killed Frank, I couldn’t in all honesty say that I blamed her. “I feel a lot better with you in my corner, Steve.”
“You know I’d do anything for you,” Steve replied after he returned my kiss. “Now let’s figure out our next move. You’ve talked to Claudine, Sylvia, Junebug and Ruth,” he said, ticking off the names on his fingers. “Who else was at the lunch?”
“Simpson Ingalls and Jack Mulholland,” I recalled. “And Frank, of course. And Monica. Oh, and the student teacher but she can’t be a suspect. She’s too young.”
“Junebug is too old and the student teacher is too young. Doesn’t wash, babe. Anyone can commit murder.” Steve looked over the top of his reading glasses at his me. “It’s a good thing I’m helping you. I think you might be too nice to solve a murder.”
“And you’re not?”
“Well, let’s just say I’m not as trusting as you are. All right. Who do you think I should talk to first?”
“Definitely, Jack Mulholland,” I responded immediately. “I haven’t had any luck tracking him down. He isn’t in the phone book and I haven’t dared go over to the Academy to talk to him.”
“I seem to recall his name coming up and being connected with some kind of scandal at the college a few years back,” Steve said thoughtfully. He snapped his fingers. “I remember now! I’m pretty sure Jack Mulholland was having an affair with one of the art professors. Seems her husband walked in on them in the act and had a heart attack.”
“Who did—Jack or the husband?”
“The husband.”
“Did he die?”
“No, but he did divorce his wife.”
“But how are you going to go in and talk to him though? I know! What if you went to the school and pretended to be interested in his art work? He makes pottery that he sells all over the state. He said so at the luncheon I catered.”
“That’s a great idea, DeeDee. Jane’s birthday is coming up so I’ll find something for her. Now can we please get to bed? I’m exhausted.”
Now it was my turn to look doubtful. “I don’t know if Jane would like handmade pottery for her birthday––”
“If she doesn’t
like it, we’ll give it to your mom for Christmas,” Steve said. “Now, please, let’s go to bed.”
“With pleasure,” I told him. “Do you think I could come with you?”
“To interrogate Jack Mulholland? How could we manage that?”
“I could wear a wig and glasses. Please, Steve, I want us to do all of this together.”
“If you can come up with a great disguise, then why not?”
“Great! I just have this feeling that four eyes and four ears are going to be way better than two.”
“Now can we go to bed?”
“Let’s go.”
We were under the covers in three minutes. And asleep in twenty.
Chapter Eighteen
“So you’d like to purchase some pottery?” I watched as Jack Mulholland gave Steve a hearty smile and squeezed his hand in what had to be a vice-like grip judging from the look that immediately covered my husband’s face. “You’ve come to the right place, brother. I’ve got pottery coming out the wazoo.”
“Is that so?” Steve replied. I could see that he was trying not to wince while he waited for Jack to release his death hold. “Great. We’re in the right place then.”
We were in Jack’s basement studio at Eden Academy. It was Monday afternoon but all of the students had already left for the day, making the school eerily reminiscent of the day when I had catered the party and Frank Ubermann was murdered. I huddled behind Steve in my disguise: a paisley scarf tied low over my forehead, a sage green tunic sweater and black leggings with high heeled boots that I borrowed from our daughter Jane. To complete the look I had donned dark glasses that covered half of my face, à la Jackie Kennedy Onassis. I was sure that Jack Mulholland wouldn’t be able to recognize me and I was right. When Steve had introduced me as his wife “Eileen,” Jack had merely nodded. I had the impression that Jack was so anxious to make a sale that he wouldn’t have cared if Bonnie and Clyde had set up an out of the blue appointment to look at his pottery.
“I’ll say you’re in the right place! This is where the magic happens. You guys have any trouble finding me?”
“Not at all. Eileen used to take an art class here.”
“Oh, right, back in the day before Eden Academy took over.”
“I was a little surprised that we were able to walk right in the school,” Steve remarked. “There doesn’t seem to be any security here.”
“You came after hours. No one cares who comes and goes once the kids are gone. Now take a look around and see if there’s anything that catches your eye. Both of you.”
I nodded without speaking and began to slowly circle the room that was filled to the rafters with pottery pieces. I was also trying to look for any clues that the police might have overlooked while investigating Frank’s murder. It was probably pointless but that was the reason why we were there. That and to see if Jack had any information that he might be willing to share.
“You certainly do have a lot of pieces,” Steve said as he paused in front of a tea pot that was shaped like a pig. “Cute.”
“All my stuff is cute. Did you have anything special in mind?”
Steve shook his head. “Not really. We want to find something for our daughter. She has a birthday coming up, right Eileen?”
“Yes,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“My wife has laryngitis,” Steve explained.
“Bummer,” Jack responded, clearly not interested in the least. I found it amazing that Jack could have been so flirtatious with me at the party and now act like I was invisible but I chalked it up to the fact that it was always easier to flirt with someone who was alone than with someone who was with their spouse. “How old is she going to be?”
“Let’s see…twenty-nine,” Steve said. “Seems impossible.”
“Yeah, time flies,” Jack responded. “Think she’d like a set of coffee mugs? They’re very popular.” He led Steve to a shelf that was crammed with coffee mugs in all different colors. I lingered behind, my eyes on an article about Jack that had been in a local magazine. He had it framed and even though the glass in the frame was heavily speckled with bits of clay and dried streaks of dirty water, I could see that Jack had aged quite a bit since the picture had been taken. Local potter now works at expanding youthful minds the headline read. It made him sound like he was Kemper’s version of Timothy Leary. I squinted at the type and read the article quickly. It was short but quite pithy. As a matter of fact, the article was extremely educational.
“Those are nice,” Steve agreed. “That would probably work for her. How much are they?”
“Just twenty dollars for a set of four,” Jack said smoothly. “Don’t you want to get your wife’s opinion?”
“They look fine,” I whispered.
“How can you tell from way over there?”
“Eileen has perfect vision,” Steve explained. “As a matter of fact, her vision is so perfect that she has to wear dark glasses to keep from getting a headache. Even indoors. Otherwise things are too clear for her.”
“Yeah? I’ve never heard of a condition like that.”
Neither had I. Steve was obviously starting to warm up to being a spy and all the lying that went along with it.
“It’s a little bit like light sensitivity,” Steve elaborated. “Quite rare. Eileen was stricken with it when she was barely thirty. I need to take her everywhere and the only time she can take her sunglasses off is in bed and in the shower.”
I pulled my dark glasses down a little to give him a warning glare. There was no need to take our cover too far. “We’ll take them,” I croaked. I gestured toward Steve to come over to the corner where I was standing. “We’re moving too fast,” I whispered into his ear. We need to shop around a little more to give time for Jack to open up.”
“What should I do?” Steve whispered back. “He’s already wrapping the mugs.”
“Go over and bring up Frank Ubermann’s murder,” I said. “I’ll stay here.”
Steve nodded and headed over to where Jack was wrapping four coffee mugs in plain white butcher’s paper. He moved so efficiently that it almost felt like we were in a hospital gift shop instead of a school. Truthfully, Jack’s art room looked more like a store than a classroom it was so crammed with pottery. Watching him, I recalled Frank Ubermann’s comments about Jack’s “business” in the basement. Those electric bills for the kiln must have been out of this world.
“I heard you had some trouble here,” Steve said conversationally. “Two murders over the course of a couple weeks. Scary stuff.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll say. It was bad enough when poor Frank was killed but then to have Monica murdered too. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to see either of them dead. They were both so well loved by the entire staff.”
The note of insincerity in Jack’s voice was so wide that Steve could have driven his Ford Escape down it and I tried not to choke out loud. “Why do you think it happened? Do you think it could have been a student?” Steve wondered. “Mr. Ubermann’s death, I mean.”
“A student?”
“Well, he was the principal, right? Maybe a student had a grudge against him.”
“Nah. Those kids are too damn lazy to do something like that. Besides, whoever got Frank must have also gotten Monica and none of the kids would do her in. They all liked her because she was always passing out candy to the little juvenile delinquents.”
“So who do you think killed them?”
Jack looked up sharply, glancing first at Steve and then over at me. I pretended not to notice. “I really have no idea,” he said. “Obviously someone who had an axe to grind with Frank and there was a long line of people who fell in that category. I’m afraid Monica wasn’t the most popular person in the world either so I’m guessing that she had a fairly long list of enemies too. Do you mind if I ask why you’re so interested?”
Steve shrugged. “No particular reason. It’s just that murders don’t happen too often in Kemper.”
“Thank God for that,” J
ack said as he handed Steve a box with the mugs neatly wrapped inside. “But I wouldn’t worry if you think there’s some kind of nut loose in town. I really do think that whoever got Frank meant to do it. The guy was a real piece of work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say that working for him was not the highlight of my resume. We had a tendency to clash from time to time.” Jack suddenly laughed. “Make that all the time. I’m just glad I had an ironclad alibi when he was killed or else I’m sure the police would be breathing down my neck 24/7.”
“Oh? Do you mind if I ask what your alibi is?”
Jack grinned. “You are the curious one, aren’t you? But I don’t mind telling you what I was up to when Frank got whacked. Not at all. I was, ah, busy with one of the other staff members, if you get my drift. We were going over the curriculum—not! Actually, we were getting it on, if you really want to know. Very indiscreet of us but if ever there was a time that I’m glad I have an out of control libido, it’s now. Even better, we got nailed by another staff member right when Frank must have been getting it. I mean, how perfect timing is that? The police can’t even say we’re lying to protect each other.”
“Pretty perfect,” Steve agreed.
I could feel my eyebrows hovering somewhere around the middle of my forehead. So Jack Mulholland wasn’t a suspect. I grappled with how we could ask Jack just who he’d been “entertaining” when Frank died but couldn’t come up with anything plausible. My curiosity was about to strangle me. Who could Jack have been with? Probably the student teacher. The two of them had seemed quite cozy during the luncheon.
“Who was the lucky lady?” Steve asked.
Way to go, Steve! I thought. I never would have had the courage to ask Jack that particular question.
Jack looked over at me but I kept my head bent over a particularly ugly set of brown iridescent dinner plates and pretended not to be listening. “Between you, me and the kiln, it was the current student teacher,” Jack said in a low voice. “She is one hot number.”
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