“No, not quite.”
“Not quite. Susan, did you get a really good look around?”
“Yes. Let me explain.” She took a deep breath and remembered the scene in detail. “The room was perfectly clean, no sign of blood or that there had been a body in it recently—or ever for that matter. The light by the chair that Evan had been sitting in was turned off and some candles were lit—a good half dozen or so on the mantel … You know how Kelly has all those brass candlesticks on one end, and there were two on the table behind the plaid couch closest to the fireplace. In front of the couch, votive candles were burning on the coffee table that Evan made from an antique child’s sled. There was a plate of cookies nearby—a different plate than the one that had been near Evan. This was one of the cut-glass plates that Kelly’s mother gave her for a wedding present. You know Kelly; she’s shown them to me a dozen times at least. The one next to Evan had been white china. And there was also a tray on the table, with a steaming teapot and a cup—oh, and a plate of lemon slices with a clove in the middle of each one. Kelly likes to display them like that.” Susan stopped and stared at her husband.
“You mean it looked like something that Kelly would set up?”
“I mean it looked like something that a person who cares about how things look would set it up. Kelly isn’t the only person I know who puts cloves in lemon slices. I’ve even seen it done in magazines.”
“You don’t have to defend her to me.”
“I know.” She sighed. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking how much it looked like something Kelly would do.”
“But there was absolutely no sign of Evan?”
“None. And I looked. It wasn’t just that the plate was different; the cookies were different too. The glass of eggnog had vanished. The Night Before Christmas book was gone. And the chair that Evan had been sitting in has down stuffing and it wasn’t just empty, it had been fluffed up. You know how down gets when it’s had any weight pressed on it.”
“Especially a dead weight,” Jed said.
Susan looked at him suspiciously. “You wouldn’t think it was funny if you had been there.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. Go on.”
“There isn’t anything else to say. The room looked as if someone had prepared it for Kelly to come in and have a snack before going off to bed. Rebecca took one look around, announced that she had to get back to her party, and stormed out. Kelly started to cry again and said that she didn’t understand anything anymore and that her neck was hurting her, so Kathleen suggested that her mother check it out … Did you know Kathleen’s mother is a nurse?”
“Yes, she and I had a nice long chat at the party. But go on.”
“And then the policeman gave me a look suggesting that I was crazy, and asked me a lot of questions, and wrote down some of my answers—and then Jerry Gordon came over and offered me a ride home. And I took it.”
“What did Dolores say about Kelly?”
“Dolores?”
“That’s Kathleen’s mother’s name.”
“Oh, I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to her. Actually I don’t really know what happened to Kelly. Jerry said everything was being taken care of, and I left it at that.” She reached out for the wall phone. “I should call Kathleen and find out.”
“Wait an hour or so, why don’t you? They may still be in bed over there.”
Susan put down her hand. “You’re right. I’m sure Kathleen wouldn’t have left Kelly alone unless everything was okay. I wonder how your mother is doing this morning?” she said, changing the subject.
“Good question. I heard her wandering around in the middle of the night.”
“She seemed awfully mad last night.”
“Yes. I’m not sure why. She announced that she didn’t want to talk about it and stomped up to bed as soon as we got home.” Jed resisted the temptation to add that it had reminded him of something his wife would do. “Whatever happened, it sure threw her off her diet. She was eating everything in sight at the end of the party.”
“I hope she cheers up. I’d hate for her to have a rotten visit. After all, it is Christmas. Kathleen and I are taking both her mother and yours out to lunch today. Maybe in her present mood, she’ll eat something.”
“Good idea.” Jed walked over to the toaster and popped in two halves of an English muffin. “But you know what I’ve been wondering about?”
“No. What?”
“I’ve been wondering if Evan is still missing.”
“Of course he is. He’s dead.”
“Is it possible that he was just made up to look wounded?” Jed asked as his breakfast popped up. “Some theatrical makeup can look pretty real, you know.”
“I know a dead body when I see one,” Susan insisted, and removed the smaller muffin half from the plate he brought to the table. “So, since Evan is dead, is the person who moved him from Kelly’s house the same person who killed him?” She bit into the bread, and butter dripped down her chin. “And why hide a dead body?”
“I can think of half a dozen reasons easily.”
“Name three,” his wife challenged him, getting up to toast another muffin.
“To give the murderer time to cover his tracks. To keep the police from beginning a murder investigation. To allow the body time to decompose before an autopsy is carried out. To keep the will from being probated—”
“Okay, okay. No need to show me up. Do you want half a muffin?”
“I wanted a whole muffin, but you seem to have consumed the other half of mine.”
“There are three hundred calories in each half of a buttered English muffin.” Jed’s mother stood in the doorway in a bright pink terry cloth robe. “I’ll have mine with strawberry jam as well.”
“Good.” Susan leapt from her seat. “I made strawberry jam this year. I even went out to a farm and picked my own strawberries.”
“Only cost twice what it would have in the stores, too,” Jed teased, going into the refrigerator for the jam jar. He put it on the table, within reach of both women. “Maybe you should call Rebecca and make sure that Evan is okay,” he suggested to his wife.
“You don’t believe me,” she protested. “Okay, fine.” She stood up and walked over to the phone. “I’ll call. Then you’ll believe me.”
The phone rang as she reached for it. “Hello? Kathleen. Yes, everyone is fine here. I was just going to call Rebecca … You did? He is? Isn’t anyone going to call the police? Okay. Well, how does noon sound? Great. See you then.”
Susan turned to her husband immediately upon hanging up. “Are you driving in? You’re going to miss your train, if you don’t hurry.”
“Where are the kids?” his mother asked, putting artificial sweetener in her coffee and piling jam on another muffin.
“They both have to be at school early on Mondays—Chrissy has chorus, and Chad is in the school dance band. They were out of here almost an hour ago.”
“And I’m on my way now.” Jed leaned over and kissed his wife. “If a large package from Burberry’s arrives today, just put it in the hall closet. And don’t open it!”
“Have a nice lunch,” he said to his mother, and was gone.
“Lunch?” She looked at Susan curiously.
“I thought we would have lunch with Kathleen and her mother today.”
“I hope you haven’t made a lot of plans,” was Claire’s stony reply.
“Well, nothing special.” Susan put Jed’s dishes in the dishwasher. “Just reservations at the new Swiss restaurant in town. I’ve never been there, but everyone says it’s wonderful. And, then, if you’re feeling like it, I thought maybe we could do some Christmas shopping. My list is nowhere near complete—Hey, I thought you’d left.” Jed had pushed back into the room.
“I forgot to remind you—I’m going to be at the graphics department’s Christmas party tonight. I have to go. So I’ll be home late. I think I’ll take the car.”
“Fine. I’m glad you hav
en’t left. Do you want me to look for a gift for Gloria? Or have you found something?”
“I can look at lunch …”
Susan recognized the hesitancy in his voice. “No, your mother and I were just talking about going shopping. I’ll do it today.”
“And if you find something for Glen or Arthur …” Jed began on his way out the door.
“I’ll find something,” she promised and then, as the front door slammed, turned to her mother-in-law.
“Presents for his secretary and some of his colleagues,” she explained. “I can use your help. I don’t see enough of these people to know what to get them. It’s a problem every year.”
“I’d really rather not go to lunch with Dolores.”
“What … ? Who’s … ? Oh, Kathleen’s mother. Why not?”
“I would just rather not.” She got up and started from the room, her back straight.
Susan was wondering just what she had done to offend the woman, when Jed’s mother turned back around.
“I suppose I owe you an explanation. I have had a severe disappointment.”
“What’s happened? Is there something I can do?”
“I caught Bob—Dr. Barr—and Dolores flirting last night. I don’t think I can trust a woman like that. And, of course, I would prefer not to socialize with her. You understand.”
“Yes,” Susan lied. Was she talking to an adolescent or a grown woman? “I understand. I’ll call Kathleen and cancel. Do you still want to go shopping?”
“Of course. I certainly wouldn’t want to change any of your plans.”
Susan, glancing up to see if Claire was being sarcastic, was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Oh, my goodness. I didn’t know you cared so much—” she began, when the phone rang again. “Hello? Oh, yes. Just let me see if she’s free to take your call.” She pressed the receiver against her chest and whispered, “It’s Dr. Barr. He’s asked to speak to you. I could tell him you’re busy …”
But the phone was suddenly wrenched from her hands.
“Hello? Bob?”
Wow. Susan saw, for the first time, which parent had contributed Jed’s great smile to his genetic mix.
“Of course, I’d love to. I promised my little granddaughter that I would take her shopping after school, so it can’t be too early. I don’t want to disappoint the child. Of course, seven would be perfect. I’ll see you then.” She hung up and turned to Susan.
“That was Bob Barr,” she explained unnecessarily. “He’s asked me to dinner. I told him yes. I knew you wouldn’t mind. Well, I’d better take a shower and get dressed. It’s going to be a full day, isn’t it? Lunch with Kathleen and her mother, and then shopping with you, and then with Chrissy. And then, of course, dinner with Bob.” She sighed happily. “This is such a busy time of year.”
THIRTEEN
“So what do I get his secretary this year?” Susan asked Kathleen, stopping in the middle of the aisle of the crowded department store.
“Gloves?”
“And a cashmere scarf last year.”
“Perfume? Scented soap?”
“The first year she worked for him.”
“A wallet? Leather purse organizer?”
“The year before last.”
“A gift certificate?”
“Jed thinks they’re impersonal.”
“Jed’s not doing the shopping; you are.”
“I noticed.” Susan sighed. “Let’s try another store. Maybe Saks …”
“Susan, we’ve been to Macy’s, Lane Bryant, and Lord and Taylor. What makes you think you’ll find the perfect present at Saks Fifth Avenue?” Kathleen leaned back against a glass counter and lifted the weight off her left foot as she spoke.
“You’re right.” Susan smiled as though an idea had just struck her. “We’ll go to Bloomingdale’s.”
“You are the most optimistic Christmas shopper in the world,” Kathleen commented.
“What choice do I have? Jed seems to be incapable of thinking about Christmas until the second week of December—and then he’s too busy going to parties at work and at home to do his own shopping.” Susan looked down at the jewelry in the counter. “I have a great idea: bookends!”
“Bookends?” Kathleen peered at the rhinestone-encrusted bracelets and strings of cultured pearls. She looked at up Susan. “Bookends?” she repeated.
“Brass bookends. It’s the perfect thing for one of the men in Jed’s department. Now who would carry them?”
“We were going to go into the city Wednesday. Do you want to look for them there?”
“If I have to, but let’s try Bloomingdale’s first. And that decorators’ store down by the river. I’d love to get this shopping finished. Besides, there are some things I want to find for Chad. He’s beginning to get interested in clothes.”
“You don’t mean that we’re going to see him wearing shirts without New York Mets or skulls printed across the chest?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Sure is, especially since I bought him a bat signed by some members of the team for Christmas.”
“Kathleen, you didn’t! He’ll love it!”
“I hope so.” She slipped her foot back into her shoe. “Bloomingdale’s?”
“Bloomingdale’s. And a cup of coffee.”
“Only if it’s accompanied by a great big creamy French pastry. I’m starving! Never again do I eat lunch with two dieters. Susan, what are we going to do about our mothers?”
“Your mother, my mother-in-law,” came the correction.
“Fine. So what are we going to do about them?”
The two women started down the aisle of the store. “I don’t think we’re going to have to do anything. I think they’re going to diet themselves to death.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously, Susan. What about this Dr. Barr?”
“I’m not sure. Do you think he’s a quack?”
“I don’t know. What sort of doctor is he?”
“Good question. I guess I just assumed that he was an internist. What sort of doctor monitors diets?”
“What sort of doctor names diet food after himself?” Kathleen asked sarcastically. “I think we should find out more about him.”
“Hmm … Last night was something, wasn’t it?” Susan asked. “Your mother was telling me at lunch that Kelly went back to the hospital this morning.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. She had to have an orthopedist look at her; there wasn’t one on duty last night. I guess she’ll return to her house after that.”
“Probably,” Susan agreed.
“I wonder what Rebecca is doing.”
“I called there this morning—you know, to thank her for the party last night—and the answering machine was on.” She glanced in the window of a small stationery store they were passing. “Hey, what about pens? Do you mind stopping in here?”
“Not at all,” Kathleen said, following her through the door into the wood-paneled interior.
“Susan! Kathleen! I was just thinking about you. Tell me what happened last night. I’ve been worried sick about Kelly.” Elizabeth Stevenson hurried down the main aisle toward them, her arms full of packages. “I called and I called and, when no one answered at the house, I drove over early this morning. No one was home. The bed wasn’t even slept in.”
“You—” Susan started.
“The house was left unlocked last night?” Kathleen interrupted quickly.
“No. I have a key. Kelly had to have someone to water her plants and check out the house when she was gone last year, and I volunteered. I still had the key on my key ring.”
“And the key that turns off the burglar alarm?” Kathleen persisted.
“I have that, too. Not that I had to use it. The system was turned off. I guess Kelly’s gotten a little careless about security since Evan left.”
Both Susan and Kathleen knew this to be untrue, but neither mentioned the fact to Elizabe
th. “Kelly is at the hospital being checked out by an orthopedist. It’s routine; nothing to worry about. She spent the night at Kathleen’s house.”
“My mom is a nurse,” Kathleen explained.
“Thank goodness. I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been.” Her concerns apparently at an end, Elizabeth turned to a more interesting subject. “Was that some party last night? What do you think happened? I think Rebecca and Evan had a fight, and he’s left her. But Barbara believes the story that there was some sort of crisis at his business and he had to drive to the city.”
“I—” Susan began.
“I was in the bathroom when Rebecca explained his leaving. What did she say exactly?” Kathleen asked quickly.
“Well, that’s the problem. She just said that it was necessary for him to leave and asked that everyone excuse him.”
“Then—” Susan began again.
But Kathleen seemed determined to make a career of interrupting her. “When did she say this?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly. It was after the policeman came, and then Kelly barged in in her underwear …”
“Pajamas,” Susan corrected.
“Okay, pajamas. And then everyone disappeared for about fifteen minutes and, when Rebecca came back, she announced that Evan had to leave and that he was sorry, but, of course, he wanted everyone to stay and have a good time. But, by that time, Jerry and your mother were talking about leaving. We were sitting with the St. Johns, wondering what to do. And you came in and got your mother just then, Kath. So I said that we had to get home to the sitter and Jeffrey St. John said something about being tired.” She shrugged. “We were both lying. We all ran into one another at the inn ten minutes later.”
“And ended the evening guessing why Evan had disappeared,” Kathleen said.
“What else? After we got home, Derek made this big deal about not talking about other people’s affairs, but even he was fascinated. How many other parties have you ever been to where the host disappeared in the middle of the evening without a word?”
“For that matter, how many parties have you been to where the police appeared?” Susan asked.
We Wish You a Merry Murder Page 9