Death in the Choir

  “You got it.” He went over to her phone book and, following her instructions, called Molly, Rebecca, and Shirley. She could hear him explaining what had happened, and could imagine their astonished reactions. It was only fifteen minutes later that the doorbell rang, and there was Molly. By this time, Francesca had washed her face with cold water, changed into pajamas, and climbed into bed.

  She could hear Molly in the living room.

  “So you’re with the police? Well, listen, I need to ask you about a parking ticket I got last week while I was getting my hair done downtown. The meter was broken and I…”

  Tony interrupted. “I’m with homicide. You’ll want to contact someone at city hall about that.”

  A few moments later, Molly appeared in the bedroom. She gave Francesca three extra-strength aspirins, a glass of water, and a big kiss on the cheek.

  “These will help you sleep and make your muscles relax a bit, so you won’t be too sore in the morning.”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  Molly smiled. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Tubs. He’s probably hiding in the basement.”

  She heard voices in the living room again and then the sound of someone going down the stairs, and in a few seconds Molly entered her room, carrying Tubs.

  “Here he is. He’ll definitely keep you warm.” Molly gently placed the purring cat beside Francesca on the bed. “Oh, Tony is getting ready to leave. He said to tell you goodnight.”

  Francesca heard the doorbell ring again and then the voices of Rebecca and Shirley. She could also hear Tony, evidently filling them in on what had happened. A few moments later, she saw Rebecca and Shirley standing in the doorway.

  “Now don’t worry about a thing,” Shirley whispered. “We are spending the night here, and we’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  Rebecca added: “That’s one good-looking police officer out there, girlfriend, and I have the feeling he’s not just here on a professional call!”

  As Francesca was falling asleep, she heard the front door open, and the sound of Tony leaving. She nestled against Tubs.

  Thank you, God, for sparing my life. She was asleep in five minutes.

  *

  Waffles. That was Francesca’s first thought the next morning when she awakened.

  As she rolled over in bed, she noticed that every muscle in her body ached as if she had the flu. But I’m alive, and I’m famished.

  Feeling like she was 100 years old, she slowly made her way to the bathroom and took a hot shower. Forget the make-up. She combed her hair and dressed. Then she glanced in the mirror and reconsidered. She decided on just a touch of lipstick, but when she tried to apply it, her lips were too sore.

  When she walked into the dining room with Tubs at her heels, Tony was already there, reading the morning paper. She could hear Molly and Rebecca bustling around in the kitchen.

  “Shirley had to leave early,” Molly called out. “Her family can’t survive long without her.”

  Tony stood up quickly when he saw her and took her tenderly in his arms. He looks so nice, Francesca thought, I wish I’d spent more time getting ready.

  “How are you feeling?

  “I feel like a truck ran over me.” Her lips were making it difficult to enunciate clearly.“But I also have this feeling of utter exhilaration at being alive.”

  He gave her a hug. “I’m very glad you’re alive too. How about some waffles?” He paused. “It’s one of the few things I can make from scratch.”

  “Sounds heavenly.” She sat down slowly on the chair. Muscles she hadn’t realized existed were making their painful presence known.

  Molly came into the room and handed her a mug of coffee. “Better today?” Francesca nodded gratefully and took a sip of coffee. A few minutes later, Tony placed a platter of waffles on the table, while Rebecca poured everyone orange juice.

  “A man who can cook!” Molly put waffles on her plate. “You don’t have a twin brother, by any chance?”

  Francesca poured a generous stream of syrup over her waffles. “Not to change the subject, but there’s still something I’m wondering about.” She looked at Tony. “What about the bottle of Scotch?”

  Molly and Rebecca looked up from their waffles.

  “I think we’ll discover when Thomas makes a full confession that he brought the Scotch over so he and Randall could have a few drinks together.”

  Tony paused from his waffles. “But Randall wasn’t used to drinking the hard stuff and got thoroughly sloshed. Then they evidently had a big argument. Somewhere along the line, Randall or Thomas made a pot of coffee. Thomas saw the prescription bottle and figured the coffee would hide the taste.”

  Molly chimed in now. “But sleeping pills wouldn’t dissolve fully in coffee, and even if he was drunk, wouldn’t Randall have noticed them?”

  Tony started refilling all their coffee cups. “Randall wasn’t taking pills. His doctor had prescribed chlorohydrate, a liquid medication. It’s often used by insomniacs who have trouble swallowing pills. So all Thomas had to do was put a big dose of the medication in the coffee. The coffee disguised the taste, and Randall was so drunk, it didn’t take much.”

  Tony went into the kitchen, returning in a few minutes with another platter of steaming waffles. He passed them around to the three women and took a second helping for himself.

  I like a man who can cook, Francesca thought. Her own skills in the kitchen were fairly limited, although she did have a few Italian recipes that turned out well.

  “There are plenty more, so just enjoy,” he said. After a few moments, Francesca put her fork down and gave the handsome man across the table from her a serious look.

  “Tony, I hate to sound like someone in a soap opera, but I mean this sincerely. How can I ever thank you for coming to my rescue like that?”

  Rebecca and Molly suddenly found something they just had to do in the kitchen, which left her alone with Tony.

  He smiled. “Well, my dear, we’ll think of something.” He gave her an exaggerated wink that caused her to blush. “But it’s really your neighbor’s dog that saved the day, not me.”

  At that moment, Francesca glanced outside. There was Bainbridge busily depositing a pile of doggy manure on her lawn. She put down her fork and made her way slowly to the front door and opened it wide. Bainbridge sat on his haunches and gazed at her with his yellow eyes, evidently expecting a reproof.

  His tail wagged excitedly when she called him over and presented him with his very own plate of crispy waffles.

  THE END