The boy started to protest, but his parents stuck together. “It will only take a minute, Chad. And you should get on a robe or something. It’s pretty cold down here. You go with your mother now. I’ll be here when you’re through. Is someone going to get that phone?” he added.
“Chrissy’s upstairs,” Susan said.
“She’s taking a shower, Mom,” Chad informed her. “At least she was when I got up,” he said to her departing back.
“Hello?” Susan gasped, having tripped on the last step into the kitchen, fallen down and skinned her elbow on the quarry tile floor. “Oh, Kathleen,” she identified the caller. “Could you hold on a second?” She reached across the room and pulled a dish towel from a drawer. “That’s better,” she continued, placing it over her bleeding arm. “How are you today?”
“Fine. Susan, Jerry says that the party is on for tonight. I gather that these people from California are only free tonight and, since everything is arranged for a car to drive them out from the city, we’re going to go on as planned, despite the snow.”
“As planned?” Susan asked, wondering what she was talking about, thinking only of the sleepover that Chrissy had been talking about.
“What I called for was to ask if you wanted to bring Chad along. He can stay upstairs in our guest room and watch TV or sleep. I thought you might not want to leave him when he’s sick. Chrissy can come, too, of course.”
“Kathleen, what are you talking about?” Susan gave up trying to fake it.
“My dinner party tonight. The one that …”
“Of course! I had forgotten,” Susan cried. She and Kathleen had been planning this for over a month. Two couples from a company in Los Angeles were in town for a week and the Gordons were having them to dinner along with some people from Hancock: the Hallards, the Fryes, and the Bowers, come to think of it. The point of the party was to be half business and half social; now it would be half business and half talk about the murder.
“Jerry says we have to keep the talk away from Dawn’s death,” Kathleen stated, reading Susan’s mind over the phone wire. “But I really want to talk to you about the arrest. Could you possibly come over for an hour or so this afternoon?”
“I think so. Let me check with Jed and call you back, okay? And, was I supposed to bring something tonight? I seem to remember …”
“Nothing,” Kathleen lied and added “pick up rolls at bakery” to the list she was scribbling.
“I’ll … Chad, don’t drink that juice! How will I ever get an accurate reading on the thermometer if you gulp down cold juice?” Susan interrupted herself to stop her son, standing in front of the open refrigerator with the Tropicana carton raised to his mouth. “And you know not to drink from the carton! Especially when you’re sick! I …”
“Call me back,” Kathleen said from her end of the line. “I’ll be here all day, cooking and cleaning and everything.”
Jed appeared at the top of the stairs as Susan hung up the phone. “That was Kathleen calling about the party tonight. I had forgotten all about it.”
“It’s pretty important, Sue. The people coming in from the coast are big clients of the firm and Jerry has to do well by them. I encouraged him to give this party, so I feel pretty responsible …”
“Kathleen and I were just figuring out what to wear,” Susan lied, forgetting that she was about to try to convince her husband to beg off. They would go. They would be merry. After all, Kathleen had just told her that Colin and Maureen had been arrested.
II
“I tend to agree with you, Martha. But Harvey’s been giving me grief ever since last night. He thinks that this is all part of some sort of quasi-official investigation into Dawn’s death,” went the voice on the phone.
Martha Hallard, sitting on the gray satin bedspread in her bedroom, kicked her right foot nervously while she listened. She finally had to interrupt. “I don’t see what there is to worry about. In the first place, the arrest last night proves that the police think Colin and Maureen killed Dawn. Although it doesn’t sound right to me. Besides, this party was planned over a month ago—long before Dawn was murdered—so how could it have anything to do with her death? Anyway, it’s really being given for business reasons. Jerry has two big clients coming in from the West Coast and he’s giving this party for them and their wives. We’re just frosting on the suburban cake.”
“I told Harvey all of that,” Gloria Bower said, getting up from her chair at the kitchen table and moving over to the counter, her husband being busy with a new snowblower just outside of the window. “But he says that won’t stop Kathleen. He says that the party is going to be a sham and, since we have this snowstorm to use as an excuse, we should beg off.”
“Well, you have to do what you think best,” Martha agreed, her kicking becoming so violent that she flicked her shoe off her foot and across the room. “Is that Missy crying?” she asked hopefully, anxious to end the conversation.
“That’s the snowblower,” was the indignant reply. “Or, maybe …” Gloria became aware of a more high-pitched hum in the background. “You have good ears. That is Missy. Time for her midmorning feeding!” An anxious new mother, she hung up without saying good-bye.
Martha put down her white and gold enameled receiver with a slight laugh.
“Who was on the phone?” Her son’s sleepy face appeared in the doorway.
“No one for you. Mrs. Bower was calling about the party we’re going to tonight. You certainly are late getting up,” his mother continued as he came in and sat down on the bed beside her.
“Mo-o-om!” He pulled away as his mother reached out to smooth down his hair. “Can I call someone to play with today? Or do you think Chad will be able to come out?”
“Chad will definitely not be able to play outside in the snow. Chicken pox isn’t a twenty-four-hour disease. You can call someone else later. It’s still a little early in the morning. And, when you call, make sure it’s someone who lives close by. I don’t think the roads are going to be good for a while today.”
“Dad at the hospital?”
“Yes, he had a call about eleven last night. He probably delivered the baby and decided to spend the night in the doctor’s lounge when he found out how bad the storm had gotten. I was just going to call him. But why don’t we go downstairs? I’ll use the kitchen phone and make you some pancakes at the same time.”
But the phone ringing as they entered the kitchen preempted her plans. The child rushed over to pick it up. “Hello? … Oh, yeah … Hi, Dad … She’s right here.” And he handed the receiver to his mother. “Can you make breakfast while you talk?” he asked, plaintively. “I’m awfully hungry.”
“You can turn on the TV,” his mother replied, “and I’ll start mixing and stirring.”
The boy laughed. The whole town knew that if any “homemade” food came out of this kitchen, it was from a caterer. His mother was no cook.
As if to prove it, she turned to the freezer and pulled out microwavable pancakes. Her son smiled and went over to the bay window’s built-in banquette and table and turned on the small TV conveniently mounted in one wall. A brightly colored robot appeared on the screen, waving his arms out at the audience. His attention was riveted.
“Dan. Bad case or was the snow too deep for you to get home?”
“Neither. The delivery was normal and I didn’t get a chance to find out if the snow was deep or not.”
“Then why … ?”
“I didn’t come home last night because I was doing a little research.”
“Research?” Martha asked, a little inattentively. She had just ripped a fingernail trying to open the cardboard box encasing the pancakes.
“Let’s just say that I’m looking into motives for a murder,” her husband teased.
“But the Smalls were arrested,” his wife protested.
“That may be so, but there are still some things that need further investigation. Is the party on at the Gordons’ for tonight?”
&
nbsp; “I assume so, but I was just talking to Gloria, and she says Harvey’s trying to convince her to make up an excuse to stay home. He evidently thinks that the arrest isn’t going to stop Kathleen’s investigation, and he doesn’t want to be a part of it.” She closed the oven door and set the timer before returning to the refrigerator for maple syrup.
“He may have good reason to avoid it.”
“He what?” The microwave timer buzzed as she spoke.
“I said, he may have good reason to avoid an investigation,” her husband repeated.
“What do you know?” Martha asked quickly.
“I think I may have found the motive. But I don’t want to talk about it on this line. It goes through the hospital switchboard. I’ll get the car out of the lot and be home in about fifteen minutes. See you then.”
“In this snow?” Martha began, but he had already hung up.
“Mom, you left the pancakes in the microwave after they were done. They’re going to be all gunky now. You have to take them out right away.”
“Dump those in the garbage and I’ll put some more in,” she replied. “Your father’s on his way home,” she added. “Can you look out the front window and see if there’s another drift of snow across the driveway? You know how he hates parking in the street. I don’t know why we pay so much money to those plow people if they’re not going to get here immediately after the snow stops.”
“Okay. Call me just as soon as my pancakes are ready.” And off he ran.
When he was out of sight, Martha put the frozen pancakes in the oven, threw the empty carton toward the sink, and began to cry. She hated all this confusion; she desperately needed some relief. Sometimes she felt that a whole lifetime had gone by since she had stood in the Henshaws’ garage a week ago and watched Dawn Elliot’s silver-covered arm tumble from the open car door.
III
“Storm or no storm, someone has to go to the liquor store and pick out wine for tonight.”
“Can’t you do it on the phone? Talk to that nice man with the long gray hair; he knows more about wine than we do. And they’ll deliver the order this afternoon.” Kathleen watched the blades of her Cuisinart spin around and around as she poured water down into the bowl. In seconds, the pâté brisée was done. She put the ball of buttery dough down on her counter and began to roll it out into a flat circle.
“I already called. That ‘nice man’—George—is skiing in Vermont this weekend, and they can’t deliver this afternoon or any other afternoon this week. Their van was in an accident last night. There’s nothing to do but go on down. But I can do the rest of the errands for the party at the same time. Why don’t you make out a list?”
“I have one right here.” Kathleen picked up a long piece of lined paper with a very floury hand. “And I’d love it if you would do the errands for me. I seem to be a little behind. But could you lay a fire in the fireplace in the living room before you go? I cleaned it out yesterday, so it just needs setting up, but I never seem to put enough kindling in or something. And it would be nice to have a blazing fire going when everyone arrives.”
“I’ll do it right now.” Jerry leaned across his wife’s shoulder and snitched a raw mushroom from the pile she was slicing into the unbaked crust before leaving to do as she asked.
Kathleen nervously pushed her hair from her forehead. Your first formal dinner party is your first formal dinner party whether you’re twenty-one or thirty-five, it seemed. Why hadn’t she agreed with Jerry a month ago and hired a caterer and bartenders and the whole bit? The truth was that she had watched Susan pull off events like this with ease for an entire year, and she wanted to show that she could do it, too. Of course, Susan had been entertaining on this lavish scale for a decade or more. Kathleen, on a police officer’s salary, was more likely to pick up Chinese and invite her friends in at the last moment. Had she been trying to prove something when she decided to do this? Was this some sort of statement? An announcement that she belonged in Hancock? She hadn’t answered that question when Jerry returned to the room, pulling his ski jacket on.
“I’ll head down to the liquor store and then …” He glanced down at the list in his hand. “And then I don’t know where I’ll go,” he continued. “You gave me the wrong list.”
“The wrong … ?”
“This seems to be a list of suspects and their motives for murdering Dawn.”
“Oh, damn. A very incomplete list of motives too. That isn’t going to do either of us any good. I gave you the wrong paper.” She reached across to the pile of lists on the windowsill. She gave him the correct sheet of paper and, as he went off to do his errands, she put the other list resolutely back with the others. She had to concentrate on this meal; wild mushroom pie wouldn’t make itself.
Jerry pulled out of his driveway slowly. The group he contracted with each fall had done their job, and his property was plowed. Not true of the streets. Luckily, he was driving the Cherokee; he shifted into four-wheel drive and slowly made his way down the curving street. A half mile from home he saw a familiar figure standing on the side of the road. He carefully pulled his car over. Although hidden by the snow, he knew there was a ditch here somewhere.
“Jerry. Thank god. I called the police on the car phone, but they said it would be hours before a tow truck got here. Seems there’s some sort of problem out on the highway. Where are you going? Can I catch a ride?”
“Get inside and get warm, Harvey. I’m on my way downtown to do some errands for the party tonight, but I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” Jerry said, opening the door.
“Uh … great. I was going downtown too; to the liquor store to get a bottle of wine to bring to your house tonight, in fact.” Harvey Bower got into the car and slapped his glove-covered hands together to warm them.
“Fine, that was my first stop too,” Jerry said. “Although you don’t really have to bring a gift.”
“Well, why don’t I go with you that far and then I can call Gloria and we can figure out a way to get home? I know you must be busy. Wives can keep you running for days before a dinner party. And we’re sure looking forward to this one. It will be our first night out without the baby. Gloria insisted on bringing Missy to the Henshaws’ last week, you know. But tonight Gloria’s mother is coming to sit—no one can say that’s an irresponsible choice—so we’ll be free as two newlyweds.”
“Fine. Now if I can just keep this snow plow from running me off the road …”
IV
“What time did you expect the limo company to pick them up, for heaven’s sake?” Kathleen asked, impatient with this interruption of her work. She peered anxiously into the oven. Why had she ever even considered hors d’oeuvres that had to be prepared at the last minute? Some good pâté, interesting cheeses … Oh well, it was too late to replan her menu. “When do you think the Henshaws are going to get here?”
“Jed and Susan? Why are you worrying about them? They’re driving themselves over. What I’m talking about is our California guests; they’re not used to this weather, and I can’t understand why the limo I reserved hasn’t arrived at their hotel yet. I keep trying to call the company, but no one answers. I don’t know what to do, Kath. I’m running out of excuses and they keep calling me up …” He leaned back against the kitchen table, endangering the thin-stemmed glassware standing on it.
“Jerry. Be careful,” his wife warned him. “And don’t worry. You said they didn’t sound terribly upset on the phone, and I’m sure the limo will get there soon. It’s a very reliable company, you said so yourself. Now will you please go check to see if the fire’s burning, and if there’s enough ice in the ice bucket in the living room? I need to concentrate on things out here.”
“You’re probably concentrating too much when you don’t hear your first guests arrive.” Jed Henshaw stuck his head around the door and into the kitchen.
“Je …” Kathleen began, turning away from her oven.
“Don’t move, Kathleen. I’m going to take
your husband from you, and check out the bar situation in the living room. Susan said she talked to you earlier and she’s taking Chad upstairs to your bedroom as planned. She’ll be down in a few minutes. Now don’t either of you worry about a thing.”
“You won’t say that when you hear about what that limo service has done,” Jerry Gordon insisted, following Jed out the door.
Kathleen sighed and glanced back at her homemade cheese straws. Weren’t they ever going to brown?
As much as she wanted to do this herself, Susan’s presence came as a relief. “Why aren’t these things getting done?” Kathleen asked, not even bothering to say hello.
“Was the oven hot when they went in?” Susan asked. “If not, it just takes a little longer. Be patient, no one’s here yet. Now tell me what you think about the arrest while I …” she paused to look around the room, “… while I stir that stuff bubbling on top of the stove.”
“My wine sauce!” Kathleen began. “Oh, fine, you handle it.”
“So what do you think about the arrest?” Susan repeated.
“I was very surprised,” Kathleen said. “Not that some people in town aren’t financially overextended, of course, and Maureen never tried to hide the amount of money they needed to maintain their life-style, but I think they must have been awfully desperate to become common burglars.”
“Burglars? What about murderers?”
Kathleen stopped her vigil over the cheese straws and turned to Susan. “They were arrested for the burglaries, not Dawn’s murder.”
“What?”
“They were arrested as suspects in the burglaries that took place during your party, not for Dawn’s murder. In fact, the police don’t think the two are connected in any way, except for an accident of timing. I thought you knew.”
“No. I had no idea.”
“No idea about what?” Martha Hallard said, sticking her head in the door.
“Come on in,” Kathleen greeted her guest with a kiss on the cheek and hurried back to her stove. “I’m glad to see you.”
The Fortieth Birthday Body Page 23