“Claire! You’re looking wonderful!” She rushed across the kitchen to greet her guest. Susan had always assumed that her husband got his good looks from his father, who had died before they met. Jed’s mother was a petite woman, with hair the nondescript color that hair turns before it becomes gray and hips that tended to display everything she had ever eaten. But the woman standing before her, while still short, had hips that matched the rest of her, and her hair, instead of turning to gray, appeared to have made a miraculous transformation to a soft shade of beige.
“Good to see you, Susan— Why, look at this. We’re wearing the same slacks!”
Susan looked down and compared. They were indeed wearing identical salt-and-pepper tweed slacks; and it looked as if hers were at least two sizes larger than the older woman’s.
“Chad and I will take your luggage up to the guest room, Mom,” Jed announced, appearing in the doorway behind his mother. He kissed his wife on the cheek in passing. “What a trip.”
“Lots of traffic?” Susan asked.
“Lots of ice.”
“You should have seen us slide off the road. Zip!” Chad demonstrated the movement with a wave of his free arm.
“Jed … ?” Susan started.
“That must have been on the way to the airport. Everything was fine on the drive home.” Claire seemed to think Susan was more concerned for her mother-in-law’s safety than she was about Jed’s or the children’s.
“Everything’s okay, hon. Just let me get these bags upstairs. Mom brought a lot of big boxes as well as her usual luggage. I guess it must be Christmas. When everything is in the house, I’ll come back and tell you all about it. How about some coffee?”
“Already made,” she told his back.
“Is something burning in the oven?” her daughter asked casually, walking right past it.
“I hope not!” Susan dashed over and opened the door for a peek. “I’m making a new recipe for something called a chicken melon. I thought it would be good for dinner tonight,” she explained.
“Chicken is good. Low calorie and very little natural salt.” Her mother-in-law beamed her approval.
Susan thought of the heavy cream, ham, and pistachio nuts she had spent the morning with and decided to say nothing to enlighten her. “It comes out in an hour, and it’s supposed to be eaten at room temperature. Now how about some lunch? You all didn’t eat at the airport, did you?”
“Never. Do you know what the food is like in places like that? Fried garbage. I had two adequate meals on the plane, though. I’ve discovered that if you order the salt-free meal for diabetics the food is almost healthy. But I am just a slight bit hungry. Maybe a small snack. I’ll go upstairs to freshen up first.”
As she left the room, the front doorbell began to chime. Susan rushed out to see who was there.
“Am I in time? I had to wait in line for the oysters. And I hope you’ve made room in your freezer for six pounds of frozen shrimp.” Kathleen was at the door, her arms full of large white plastic bags.
“Is that all?”
“There’s another bag from the fish shop in the backseat of the car. And the cheese store filled the trunk.”
“I’ll call Chad—” Susan began.
“For what?” Chad asked, appearing behind her.
“Would you please help get things in from Kathleen’s car?” his mother asked.
“What sort of things?”
“Well, Brie and oysters,” she answered, naming two of his favorites. “We’re having oyster stew for lunch.”
“Great. This year I don’t have to wait until Christmas Eve for it.” He dashed out the front door just as Susan noticed that he wasn’t wearing any shoes.
“Chad!” she called him back.
“Do you always let him go outside in his stocking feet in this weather?”
Her mother-in-law was right behind her. Susan opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“You must be Mrs. Henshaw,” Kathleen said, coming to her friend’s rescue. “I’m Kathleen Gordon. Susan’s friend.”
“Oh, yes. You’re the cop, aren’t you? And you married that nice Jerry Gordon. His first wife was such a sweet woman. A home economics major I seem to remember. I was so sorry to hear about her death in that auto accident. You and Jerry have been married for a few years, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Kathleen shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. We’ll have a chance to talk more at the Knowlsons’ party tomorrow. I hope you’re going; Jerry will be happy to see you, too, I’m sure. I think I’d better get this stuff to the kitchen now.”
Susan was relieved to see Kathleen smile sincerely as she left the hallway. “I’ll just go show her where to put everything. When Chad comes in, will you ask him to please put some shoes on before he makes another trip?” She grabbed Kathleen in front of the refrigerator. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t think she means to be the least tactful person in the world.”
“Wait till you meet my mother! Where do you want all this shrimp?”
“The freezer in the basement. The bottom two shelves are empty,” Susan said, and, taking her cue, Kathleen started for the basement.
“Are there two full wheels of Brie?” Her cold-footed son appeared behind them, his arms full of bags.
“Yes, and they’re for the party Friday night; don’t bend them.” Susan grabbed for the wooden disk closest to her. “They might split, and then they won’t look as nice. I’m going to put all of this in the basement, Chad. You go upstairs and put on your shoes before going outside again.”
“I thought you wanted me to help right away,” he explained.
“It wasn’t necessary to be that fast,” she said. “And change your socks before putting on your shoes. Those are wet.”
“I know that. I’m wearing them.”
If her mother-in-law hadn’t appeared in the kitchen, Susan would have had more to say on the subject.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Would you help Chad put the cheeses on the top shelf of the basement refrigerator? And, if he brought any crackers in that batch, they can be left on the counter.”
“Of course, Chad and I will arrange everything.” She vanished down the steps as Kathleen reappeared.
“I’m going to be late meeting Kelly for lunch if I stop first at the liquor store. Would it be okay if I picked up your order there later in the afternoon?”
“Why don’t I do it?” Jed offered, entering the room. “I have to go to the hardware store and buy a large bolt for our tree stand—one seems to have vanished over the summer—and the liquor store is nearby. Besides, I can take Mom. She was wondering what changes have taken place downtown; this is as good a time as any to see everything.”
“You’re sure?” Kathleen asked. “I have the time to do it.”
“I’m sure,” Jed assured her. “And—” he put his arm around his wife’s waist “—it will give you a chance to be alone. It can’t be easy to have unexpected company right now. I know you were planning a day in the kitchen.”
Susan smiled up at him. “Just go around to the back door of the liquor store and load up the car from there. And, if you’re going to the hardware store, would you check and see if we have any extra little lights for the tree? I think we ran out last year.”
“Good idea. I also want to get a few cases of those fake logs to have around in case we have electric problems again.”
“You better save some room for your mother in the car.”
“She can hang on to the ski rack.”
“How about eating lunch first? I can have it ready in about five minutes.”
“Fine. I’ll get the last of the stuff from Kathleen’s car and gather up everyone and meet you in the kitchen.”
“We’re eating in the dining room.”
“Then I’ll drag everyone in there.”
Susan turned to Kathleen. “Call me. I’m dying to know what Kelly wants. I had a very odd conversation with Elizabeth Stevenson
this morning.”
“About Kelly?”
“Yes, but nothing urgent. We can talk later. Right now I think I’d better get the cream warming for the oysters.”
“Sounds good. I wonder what Kelly is cooking up. She invited me to eat there. Probably leftovers from yesterday’s party.”
“Maybe,” Susan said, doubting that Kelly had ever served leftovers in her life—at least not in public.
“I’ll call later. Enjoy.” Kathleen waved good-bye, and Susan hurriedly pulled a pint of cream from the refrigerator and poured it into a heavy copper saucepan. Setting it over a low fire, she continued her preparations, dousing a large salad with olive oil and sherry vinegar. In the promised time, she entered the dining room, a large tureen in her hands.
The table was set with her second-best china and green and white linen napkins. A large centerpiece of holly, mixed evergreens, and reindeer moss adorned the table. Someone had come through the room and lit the half-dozen votive candles in white ceramic holders that were set before each place. So where was her family?
Right behind her. And, according to Chrissy, starving.
“Where is your grandmother?” Susan asked, putting the stew before her seat at the table. There were also five blue and white Canton china soup bowls waiting to be filled with the buttery brew.
“She’s standing in front of the microwave.” It was Chad who answered her. “Should I go get her?”
“No, I’ll—Oh, there you are. Were you looking for something?” Susan asked, wondering what her mother-in-law was carrying.
“No, I was just getting my lunch.” She looked around at the food on the table and smiled. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m on Dr. Barr’s Diet Plan. I don’t eat anything that isn’t in one of these little bags.” She pointed to the cellophane package sitting on the plastic plate she was carrying. “I have a whole carton of them upstairs; they’re like a miracle. They don’t have to be refrigerated, they are totally nutritious, and almost calorie free.” She smiled broadly at her daughter-in-law. “You should try one.”
SIX
Birch logs blazed in the fireplace of the Henshaws’ living room as Susan and Kathleen relaxed on the couch, sipping from goblets of wine.
“She thinks someone is what?” Susan was so surprised by Kathleen’s last statement that she almost broke the stem of her glass.
“She thinks someone is trying to kill her.”
“She’s crazy.”
“Maybe she is, but that doesn’t mean that she’s wrong.”
“You don’t think someone is trying to kill her?”
“No, but I think she thinks someone is trying to kill her. She’s certainly upset. She was very nervous when she was telling me about it.”
“Did she say who she thought was trying to kill her?”
“No, but I think it’s Evan.”
“Kathleen, are you crazy?” Susan asked, pouring another glass of wine out for her friend.
“No, and it’s just a guess.”
“You’d better explain.”
“Well, Kelly told me that she thinks someone is trying to kill her, and that’s pretty much all she would say. So I started to ask questions about who she thought wanted to kill her, and she didn’t answer until I suggested that Evan had something to do with the way she felt. She got very, very excited—and denied even connecting him with this. So my guess is that she suspects Evan. But it’s just a guess.” Kathleen leaned back in her chair and sipped the ruby-colored liquid. Her eyes wandered around the room. “You’re really ready for the holiday, aren’t you? Everything looks beautiful. Did you make the swags over the windows?”
“The florist wired together the greens, and I added those tiny stars. Pretty, aren’t they? I found them at Bloomingdale’s right after Thanksgiving. But you’re changing the subject. How does Kelly think this person is trying to kill her? She hasn’t seen anyone sneaking around her house with a gun, has she?”
“Poison, sabotaging her car, making a pool of ice right outside her back door that was supposed to cause her to fall down some cement steps,” Kathleen answered. “Which, translated, means that she got a bad case of food poisoning or the flu and was sick to her stomach for over a week, that the brakes on her BMW gave out as she was backing down the driveway, and that this year, for the first time, ice is forming every night on the flagstone steps from her kitchen down to the garage. They’re all things that happened, but she’s convinced that they’re part of some sort of plot to kill her instead of unrelated accidents.”
“Well, it seems to me that if someone in town was trying to kill her, it would be Rebecca.” Susan reached around behind her and rearranged some pinecones in a blue and white bowl.
“Why Rebecca? She’s the winner, after all. If you look at Evan as the prize in some sort of contest, that is.”
“Because of this obsession Kelly has over not changing her life any. Remember I told you that Elizabeth called this morning? Well, she says that Kelly is planning to go to all the traditional Christmas and New Year’s parties in town—all except Evan’s, of course.”
“So what?” Kathleen asked. “She was invited, wasn’t she?”
“Of course she was invited. We’ve all invited her; she’s our friend and neighbor. But no one expected her to accept. And she’s going alone—at least her RSVPs were for one person, as far as Liz could find out.”
“Do you think that if Kelly goes to these parties alone, it’s going to embarrass Evan and Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe he has good reason to want to hurt Kelly; maybe he’s protecting his new wife.”
“You think Evan really could be a murderer?” Susan, who had promised herself that one glass of burgundy would be her limit, poured out another.
“No. But I suppose it’s possible that he’s trying to scare her.”
“Into leaving town?”
“Or just leaving him alone?” Kathleen suggested.
“Well, that’s possible. Elizabeth also said that Kelly calls Evan over the slightest little thing.”
“Like?”
“Like which company they used to plow out the driveway in the winter, and whether the warranty has run out on the refrigerator. Evidently all things she used to take care of herself when they were married.” Susan passed Kathleen a slightly scorched spinach turnover. They were eating the rejects from her afternoon’s baking.
“Thanks. Has Kelly become helpless now that she and Evan are divorced?”
“That’s what Liz claims,” Susan said.
“And Liz is worried about her?” Kathleen asked.
“Very. They’ve always been good friends. It’s logical that Kelly would turn to Liz in a crisis.”
“But evidently Kelly didn’t tell Liz about the attempts on her life—or what she considers to be the attempts on her life.”
“That’s right!” Susan exclaimed. “What do you think that means?”
“It may mean nothing. It might not even be true. It’s possible that Liz knows all about it and just didn’t tell you.”
Susan sipped her wine and thought for a moment. “Why did Kelly tell you?”
“She wants to hire me to protect her.”
“Heavens! What did you tell her?”
“That I would think about it and talk to her Monday morning. I checked out her security system, just to make her feel more comfortable. Not that she has anything to worry about: that house is nearly a fortress. The alarms were put in when it was built and they were the best. It would be very difficult for anyone to break in there undetected.”
“But are you thinking of hiring yourself out as a guard or something?” Susan asked, amazed.
“No. It’s not something I’m qualified to do, and it isn’t anything I want to do. But she seemed so desperate that I didn’t want to turn her down immediately. Maybe I can think of something that will help her.” Kathleen sipped her wine and stared into the fire.
“What she needs is a psychiatrist,” Susan sai
d.
“Have you tried to suggest that?” Kathleen asked, not disagreeing.
“Not recently. I suggested it last winter—before Kelly left town—and almost got my head bitten off. You’d have thought I was saying that the woman was a raving maniac.”
“Maybe someone she’s closer to—maybe Liz—could suggest it?”
“Not a chance. Liz doesn’t believe in psychiatry.”
“That’s not possible. You don’t have to believe in ghosts, or leprechauns, or things like that, but you have to believe in psychiatrists. Some of our neighbors are psychiatrists.”
“Maybe what I should say is that she doesn’t believe in psychiatrists treating people she knows. I asked her if she had suggested a psychiatrist to Kelly, and Liz said that she was sure that Kelly had enough friends to take care of her.”
“Well, if Liz thinks that a friend—no matter how well intentioned—can take the place of a trained therapist, then you’re right. She doesn’t believe in psychiatrists.” Kathleen paused. “But we have two possibilities here: either Kelly needs professional help … or else someone is really trying to harm her.”
Susan sighed and looked at her friend. “Do you want another glass of wine?”
It was all she could think of to say.
“Susan, we’re home!”
“It’s Jed!” Susan grabbed the now-empty wine bottle and slid it behind the basket of logs beside the fireplace. “And his mother,” she explained.
“Well, we got everything on the list and then some.” The woman she had just mentioned entered the living room, shaking out her coat as she walked. “The town certainly has changed in the past two years. I almost didn’t recognize it.”
“It has, hasn’t it?” Susan leapt to her feet. “I’d better help Jed get everything out of the car.”
“He and Chad said for you to stay inside and they would do it all.”
“Well, isn’t that nice? Let me hang up your coat and get you something to drink,” Susan offered, noticing that, while she had hidden the bottle, the empty glasses were shining in the firelight.
“Of course.” Claire Henshaw handed her coat to Susan. “I’d love some carrot juice,” she added, sitting down next to Kathleen.
We Wish You a Merry Murder Page 4