Murder Unmentionable

by Meg London

  “Would you?” Emma’s sense of relief surprised her.

  “And who are you?” Chuck looked Kate up and down.

  “I am…I was…Guy’s assistant. He has a sister in Montreal. I have her number and address at the office. I can send the things to her.”

  “Guess that’d be all right.” Chuck grumbled.

  Emma had been slowly edging Chuck toward the door, hoping he would get the subliminal message and leave. She actually had her hand on the doorknob when someone pushed the door open.

  “Oh!” Emma jumped.

  “Sorry, did I scare you?” Brian peered around the slight opening. “You did say it was okay to come over.”

  A slow, nasty smiled crossed Chuck’s face. “Looks like you’ve already exchanged one boyfriend for another.”

  Emma desperately wanted to punch Chuck Reilly right in his big, fat mouth, but she kept her clenched fists at her sides. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. It was bad enough that Brian might have thought she’d called him, but now Chuck was trying to peg him as her boyfriend. The words if only flashed across Emma’s mind, and she clenched her fists tighter.

  Brian gave Chuck a look that would have wilted anyone else on the spot, but Chuck was too dense to comprehend it.

  “Were you about to leave?” Brian held the door wider.

  Chuck gave Emma one last sneer and finally disappeared through the open door.

  “I’d like to…” Brian waved his clenched fist in the air.

  “I feel the same way.” Emma gave a small smile. Just being with Brian made her feel better.

  “I’m going to go grab a coffee. Anyone want anything?” Kate slung her purse over her shoulder and headed toward the door.

  “No, thanks,” Emma and Brian chorused.

  “Let’s see that carpet.” Brian said as soon as the door shut behind Kate. He grabbed Emma’s hand and stepped back toward the window so they could take it all in.

  While Brian admired the carpet and the finished renovations at Sweet Nothings, Emma tried desperately to ignore the feelings that the warmth of her hand in his stirred up.

  “Everything looks wonderful.” Brian turned toward Emma with a smile. “Your ideas were perfect.”

  “So was the execution.” Emma smiled back.

  Brian grabbed her around the waist and waltzed her across the newly carpeted floor. He stopped suddenly, and they were face-to-face, his arm around Emma’s waist, her hand warm in his. They stood locked in place for several seconds.

  Once again Emma thought he might kiss her, but this time she restrained herself from either tilting her face or closing her eyes. The moment passed, and Brian took a step backward, a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

  “Guess I got carried away.” He laughed and Emma joined him, although she didn’t feel like laughing.

  Brian’s hand lingered in hers for another moment before he let go. He glanced at his watch quickly. “I’d better get back to work,” he said but made no move to leave.

  The jingle of the bell over the door sent them scurrying apart. Kate entered carrying a paper cup labeled The Coffee Klatch. She looked from Emma to Brian and back again.

  “I was just going,” Brian said, and Emma thought she noticed a slight flush to his face.

  “Yes, Brian was just going,” Emma repeated, slightly surprised to note how disappointed that made her feel.

  BY early evening, the rain had stopped, and the last of the sun was peeking through the swiftly scattering clouds. Emma took a deep breath. The air smelled of rich, wet earth, flowers and greenery. She was on her way to Let Us Cater To You, which was just around the corner from Angel Cuts. Emma peered into the salon as she walked past. Angel was on the telephone at the front desk and waved as Emma went by. Emma felt slightly guilty knowing that she and Kate planned to follow Angel. She gave an extra big wave and smile, as if that would make up for it.

  Let Us Cater To You was a sliver of a shop tucked between two larger stores. It had been there for as long as Emma could remember. The proprietor, Lucy Monroe, had started out working from home and eventually her business had grown to the point where she was able to open her own place.

  Inside, the basic setup of the shop was the same, but Emma noticed that the color scheme had been freshened along with some of the accessories. A glass case still dominated the small space and was filled with gourmet-type sandwiches and bite-sized confections. Two wrought-iron café tables were wedged into the remainder of the floor area.

  No one was behind the counter, so Emma pinged the bell that sat out on the top of it.

  “Can I help you?” A woman came out of the back, wiping her hands on an apron. She had white hair teased into a bouffant on top of her head, and she sported huge diamond studs.

  She stopped short when she saw Emma. “Emma!” She rushed forward, her arms held out for a big hug. “It’s wonderful to see you again,” she said, crushing Emma to her chest.

  Emma hugged her back. “You, too, Aunt Lucy. It’s been ages.”

  Lucy Monroe wasn’t really Emma’s aunt. She and Emma’s mother had been best friends since kindergarten, and when Emma was born, Lucy had immediately been christened “Aunt Lucy.”

  Lucy gestured toward one of the café tables and pulled out the chair opposite Emma. She sighed. “Feels good to get off my feet whenever I can.” She rotated her ankles clockwise, then counter-clockwise. She was wearing a hot pink silk blouse and slim-fitting beige silk trousers with a pair of comfy-looking clogs.

  “It really is so good to see you.” She reached across the table, took Emma’s hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. “It’s been far too long.”

  Emma couldn’t help but notice the enormous diamond ring on the ring finger of Lucy’s left hand.

  She must have noticed Emma’s gaze. She waggled her fingers in front of Emma. “Like it?”

  Emma nodded, somewhat speechless.

  Lucy laughed. “Cubic zirconia. These, too.” She pointed to the diamond studs in her ears. “Doesn’t hurt to have everyone think that Harry, he’s Mr. Lucy number five, is rolling in money. Keeps everyone’s mouth shut. This way they figure I married him for his dough. Reality is that I just happened to like the guy. We get along, know what I mean?” She winked at Emma.

  Emma smiled. Lucy had never had much luck with men. Emma’s mother always said it was because she was taken in by their looks and married them before having the time to learn that their beauty was truly only skin deep. Fortunately, Lucy was a strong woman and had always been perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  “Not like that Angel Roy,” Lucy jerked her head in the direction of Angel’s shop. “It may have taken me five times to get it right, but I finally did. She keeps stepping out with the same sort over and over again.”

  Emma hoped Lucy was right and that this Harry fellow would turn out to be different from the other men who had drifted in and out of Lucy’s life.

  “Of course our little Angel is up to something herself, just can’t figure out what it is,” she drawled on, her voice as sweet and thick as honey. “Wednesdays and Thursdays like clockwork. Now, I happen to know that her current squeeze has a poker game on Thursdays and works late on Wednesdays.” She looked at Emma and laughed. “You probably think I’m a horrible old Miss Nosy Pants, sticking my nose in other people’s business.”

  Emma shook her head.

  “This is a small town, and in small towns we do mind each other’s business, for better or for worse. Take old Mr. Whimple. If his near neighbor, Miss Marshall, hadn’t noticed his mail piling up and called the police, well, would anyone have ever found him before it was too late? He’d fallen in the bathroom and was wedged between the bathtub and the vanity, unable to get up!”

  Emma was about to express her amazement, but Lucy continued on.

  “Shame about your young man being killed in your shop like that. You must be devastated. Have the police arrested anyone yet? By the time our little local paper reports on anythin
g, the news is months old.”

  “The police seem to think it was an intruder who did it,” Emma said with her fingers crossed behind her back. The police had said no such thing. “You didn’t happen to see anyone that night…”

  “A Thursday, wasn’t it?” Lucy scratched her head, then began to nod. “Yes, I was in the shop that night. Friday I was catering a big bridal shower—I was making the cheese straws. You can’t get married, engaged or baptized in Paris without my famous cheese straws! I did them for your christening, you know, and your graduation. Next, I suppose it will be for your wedding.” She looked at Emma coyly.

  Emma just smiled.

  “I don’t know why, but the cheese straws I’d made earlier in the day just didn’t taste right to me. That’s the last time I buy butter from Meat Mart, I can tell you.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I happened to look out the window, and someone was walking past. Didn’t recognize who at first, so I went over to the window to get a closer look. It was Angel, right on schedule. And right behind her comes Tom Mulligan. It’s a wonder they didn’t run into each other! And both of them looking like they couldn’t get away from there fast enough.”

  Aha, Emma thought. Further confirmation that both Angel and her boyfriend were out and about the night Guy was killed. She would definitely have to follow Angel to see what she was up to. Maybe there was another suitor in the picture and maybe he killed Guy?

  “Anyway, enough about that. Tell me about this grand opening you and Arabella are planning. Do you want me to do my cheese straws?”

  Emma surfaced from her thoughts to find that Lucy had finally started discussing the menu for their grand opening.

  “I promise not to get the butter from Meat Mart this time.” Lucy shuddered. “I’ll stick to buying my meat there. It’s excellent, by the way.” She tapped Emma lightly on the arm.

  “I thought we could have a selection of hors d’oeuvres…”

  Lucy laughed suddenly. “Hors d’oeuvres,” she repeated. “My grandma used to call them horses’ ovaries. Can you imagine? She didn’t have any use for fancy language.” She slipped off her right clog and began massaging her foot. “I can do you a real nice spread. Believe me, no one will leave hungry. And,” she tapped the glass case next to her. “A selection of pastries to finish. It’s what the French call the piece of least resistance. At least I think so.” She swung her foot, her clog bobbing back and forth from her toes.

  Emma nodded. Her mother had assured her she could trust Lucy to do a good job, so she wasn’t worried about the menu.

  At least not too much.

  “I wish I could go with you.”

  It was Wednesday evening, and Emma and Arabella were sitting on Arabella’s porch after another long day at the shop—Emma curled up on the swing, and Arabella stretched out on a chaise longue. A pitcher of homemade lemonade was within easy reach.

  “Why don’t you? You’re more than welcome.” Emma struggled upright and poured herself seconds of the lemonade.

  Arabella looked slightly flustered, and her hands fluttered around her face like moths. “I have an…er…previous engagement.”

  “Aha.” Emma pounced. “With Les?”

  “No.” Arabella hesitated. “It’s with Francis, actually.”

  “Aren’t you risking Sally Dixon’s ire?”

  Arabella laughed. “I figure if Sally had any chance with Francis at all, he’d be asking her out to dinner instead of me.”

  “Some things never change, I guess.” Emma sipped her lemonade and licked the delicious tartness off her lips.

  “That’s for sure.” Arabella pushed the swing, and it rocked gently back and forth. “I remember when your grandmother was in that assisted living place over on the other side of town. There were hordes of women to one poor man. And it was the same thing. Just like junior high school all over again.” Arabella put down her empty glass. “I guess I’d better be getting ready.”

  “Where are you going?

  “He’s taking me to L’Etoile,” Arabella said and blushed.

  “Ooooh, fancy.”

  Arabella quickly changed the subject. “Do you want to borrow my car tonight? Francis is picking me up so I won’t need it.”

  Emma shook her head. “Kate is borrowing Sylvia’s car. We thought your Mini might be too recognizable. Same thing with Liz’s bright red station wagon.” Emma peered around the corner of the porch. “They both should be here any minute now.”

  “Well, I’m going to go in, then, and perform my ablutions, as my mother used to say.”

  Emma looked blank.

  “My toilette?” Arabella proferred. “No?” She shook her head. “I guess I’m older than I thought. Or,” she said with a smile at Emma, “I’ve become too wrapped up in the vintage world.” She paused. “I’m going to go freshen up.”

  Arabella started toward the door, then stopped. “What on earth is that?”

  “I don’t know.” Emma listened as the screeching got louder and closer.

  They both stood at the edge of the porch and stared as Sylvia’s Cadillac lurched into view.

  Arabella shook her head. “You should be very inconspicuous in that.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with the car,” Kate said as she walked up the front steps to Arabella’s house. The hair around her forehead was damp and curling, and her cheeks were flushed. “Are you ready?” She glanced at her watch.

  “Yes, but I asked Liz to come, too. She should be along any minute now.”

  Kate’s face took on a strange expression, but then she smiled and it was gone. “Great.”

  “There she is,” Emma said as a Subaru station wagon pulled up in back of Sylvia’s car.

  Liz beeped the locks and came bounding up the steps. “I hope I’m not late,” she said breathlessly. “I wanted to get the kids fed before I left so Matt wouldn’t have to.”

  “We’re just about to go. Let me just grab my purse.” Emma turned back toward the swing where she’d draped her bag over the arm. “Do you want me to drive?”

  Emma heard a thud, followed by a thunk, followed by a cross between a squeal and a scream. She turned around to see Kate sprawled at the bottom of the porch stairs, rubbing her head.

  “Are you okay?” Emma and Liz clattered down the steps quickly and rushed to her side.

  “I think so.” Kate shifted experimentally. “Nothing broken, at least.” She wobbled to her feet. “Oh.” She put a hand to her head.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. Just feeling a little dizzy.” She sat down abruptly on the top step.

  Liz frowned. “That doesn’t sound good. Maybe we should get you to a doctor.” She turned toward Emma, and Emma nodded.

  “No, no,” Kate protested. “I’ll be fine.” She put a hand to her head. “I think. Besides, we’d better leave soon or we’ll miss Angel.”

  “Maybe you should stay here.” Emma put a hand out.

  “No! I don’t want to miss this.” Kate grabbed Emma’s hand and scrambled to her feet. She groaned and put out a hand to steady herself.

  “You’re staying here,” Emma declared firmly. “Aunt Arabella won’t mind. We’ll pick you up on the way back and fill you in on all the details.”

  Kate looked like she was going to cry. Emma gave her a quick hug, palmed the keys to the Caddy and went around to the driver’s side. Liz opened the passenger door, and they both got in and waved to a disconsolate-looking Kate as they pulled away from the curb.

  WASHINGTON Street was almost deserted by the time they got there. Shops were dark and the sidewalks were empty, except for Let Us Cater To You where a single bulb burned toward the back of the store. Emma glanced over quickly, catching a quick glimpse of Aunt Lucy.

  Emma pulled up to the curb. “What time is it?”

  Liz glanced at her watch. “Just about time. Angel should be along any minute now.”

  They heard a door slam and a car came around the corner from the back where the parking lots
were. It was Angel driving her fire-engine-red Turbo Trans Am. Nothing inconspicuous about that car. She’d be a cinch to follow.

  Angel rounded the corner with tires squealing. Emma threw the Cadillac into gear, but something was obviously wrong because it lurched three times before slowly picking up speed. By the time the speedometer reached the speed limit, Angel’s red sports car was a blur in the distance.

  “Hurry, she’s getting away.”

  “I’m trying.” Emma hit the gas, but nothing much happened other than that the squealing increased to epic proportions. She prayed Angel would hit a light, and the Caddy would be able to catch up.

  Luck was on their side. When they got to the corner, three cars were idling at the red light. Angel was up front, and Emma could sense her impatience to get going. When the light changed Angel shot forward and quickly put distance between herself and the other cars. Emma coaxed the Caddy up to maximum speed, which hovered around the forty-five- mile-per-hour mark. Unfortunately, Angel’s Trans Am was merely warming up at that speed.

  Emma did her best, but at one point she lost sight of Angel all together.

  “I don’t see her, do you?” She glanced at Liz.

  Liz craned her head, her eyes focused on the window. “I’m afraid I don’t see her either.”

  “Maybe we should go back? We can try another night.”

  “No, wait.” Liz grabbed Emma’s arm. “Look.” She pointed out the window. “I’m sure I saw a flash of red.”

  “If you say so.” Emma put pedal to the medal and the Caddy obliged by eking out an extra ten miles per hour. It was enough. Within a couple of minutes, Angel was within view.

  “Where on earth is she going, do you think?”

  “I have no idea,” Liz said, grabbing the door handle as the Cadillac picked up speed.

  Angel slowed, and Emma was able to ease up on the gas, although the Caddy continued to squeal like a pig at the slaughter. Angel pulled into the driveway of a large, beige brick, lit up building.

  “Look,” Liz pointed to a large sign with Tennessee Technology Center written on it in large, black letters.