Citizen Insane (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #2) (11 page)

ROZ RAN OUTSIDE, BUT RETURNED a minute later soaked and Bunny-less. “I don’t know how she could have disappeared that fast, but she did.” She dried herself with one of my kitchen hand towels. “Two vans just pulled up in your driveway. They must have scared her away.”

I met a man at the door. With a clipboard in his hand and scowl on his face, he informed me that “a Mr. Howard Marr” had called for a rental van. He didn’t look overjoyed to be delivering in downpour. I smiled and signed four different pages, initialed at least ten times on three more pages, and accepted the keys and instructions from him in return.

“A sign of true love,” I said returning to the table. “Now, if only my husband would make an appearance. To see how I’m doing maybe.” I dropped into my chair. “Back to Bunny. She’s gonzo up here.” I tapped a finger to my head. “I say she’s definitely homicidal.”

Peggy nodded. “I agree she’s a little pazzo.”

“We need to tell someone what we saw at the school last night, and we need to tell them now.”

Roz worked the towel through her blonde bob. “What do you suggest? You already told Howard.”

“He said it’s a police matter, so we go to the police.”

Roz finished drying and handed me the towel. “I have to get up to the school and check the PTA in-box.”

“And I have to get to the grocery store,” said Peggy. “We’re out of pasta.”

“I have to go to the school too. Let’s meet up afterwards. Where?”

“My house,” offered Peggy.

“So we meet up at Peggy’s house, then we’ll call the police and be done with it. I’ll feel better if I get this off my chest.”

“Okay,” agreed Roz. “I just hope we’re doing the right thing.”

“What could be the harm in it?” I asked rhetorically.

Weeks earlier I had signed on to volunteer in Bethany’s class for a Spring Fling gardening project. Given the circumstances, I wasn’t exactly in the Spring Fling mood, but I didn’t want to be the mom that backed out of a commitment, so I fixed my hair a little and threw on some makeup. As usual, there wasn’t an umbrella to be found in my house, so I had to step out uncovered.

As I locked my door to run out, already two minutes late for Spring Fling, Waldo appeared as if from thin air.

“Morning, Barbara.” He smiled and I winced. The man really needed a cosmetic dentist.

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Sneak up on people. You’re not there and suddenly you are there.”

“I hope I didn’t scare you again.”

“Truthfully? It is a little creepy.” I fumbled with the unfamiliar fob to unlock the rental van. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m late.”

“Did you get a new car?”

“This is a rental while mine is at . . . the mechanic.” I finally found the right button to unlock.

Luckily, he didn’t seem too interested in my car problems. “I was just out for an invigorating morning walk,” he said. “Get the blood flowing you know.”

While the heavy torrents had slowed to a steady but light spring shower, it still didn’t seem like an ideal day for a walk, invigorating or no. “Good. Have fun.” I pulled on the door handle and climbed in, but I didn’t get the door closed before he piped up.

“Did you hear about poor Shelly?”

Hmmm. I stopped. “Who’s that?”

“Shelly Alexander. In the hospital.”

“Yeah. I heard. Pretty awful.” I pulled the door a little closer. “But I’ve never heard anyone call her Shelly before.”

“No? My mistake. I thought she went by Shelly. Do you know what happened?”

“You don’t?”

Waldo shook his head.

“Me neither.” I closed the door, pulled my seat belt across, clicked and waved before starting the engine. Waldo returned the wave and moved aside while I backed out. Thankfully, I didn’t hit a single mother on my drive from home to the school.

The rain had picked up again by the time I nosed into an empty space in the school parking lot. My luck was changing for the better. Finding open spaces in the lot during a school day is less likely than winning a hundred million dollar lottery on February 29th. I used my jacket for cover so I wouldn’t be soaked by the time I reached the front doors. Halfway to the entrance, I met up with Shashi Kapoor. She had a golf umbrella and offered me half.

“I’m surprised to see you here today,” she said as I stepped under.

“Why?”

“I have friends in high places—benefit of being a crossing guard. I heard about thees accident last night.”

This was my worst fear. The Rustic Woods Rumor Mill was about to start churning at full speed. I felt sick to my stomach. “Ugh,” was all I could muster.

“Do not worry. Your secret, it is safe with me. Mum is the word. Do not be surprised when you walk in today, though.”

“What are they saying?”

“Most people know she is in hospital, very few people know how bad it is, and I do not think anyone knows why she is there.”

“Do you know . . . everything?”

“That she was shot before you hit her?” She nodded.

“What are your friends in high places saying?”

“My friends are not talking about suspects, if thees is what you mean. I’ll let you know if I hear more.”

Well, I thought, they probably didn’t have Bunny Bergen on their radar, but I’d make sure that changed real soon. We had reached the front door. A peek at my watch told me I was very late for the wet Spring Fling. “Thanks for sharing your umbrella and your information, Shashi.”

“Like I said, the benefits of being a crossing guard.” She turned around and headed to her cobalt Toyota sedan that had its own parking space right in front of the school. Another benefit of being a crossing guard.

Hoping to avoid human contact, I kept my eyes on the floor as I headed to the volunteer sign-in at the front office. I just wanted to get into Bethany’s class, do my thing and get out. Breathing a sigh of relief when I found the receptionist chair empty, I scribbled my name quickly on the list and turned, ready for a quick get-away. Unfortunately, I ran right into Bunny Bergen’s buoyant bosom.

She didn’t look much better than when she shoved her spooky face in my window just two hours earlier. Her hair was still damp and pasted to her head and she wasn’t suited up in her usual Model Mom attire. Instead, her worn blue sweatpants hung on the droopy side and the olive green Gap sweatshirt didn’t even match. I was shocked. Who knew that Bunny owned a pair of sweatpants?

Our eyes met for only a second. I don’t know if she was pretending that she didn’t see me, or just embarrassed, but her gaze darted to the floor and she stepped around to the student sign-out log. She scribbled hurriedly then zipped back to the main hallway where teachers had escorted her two boys out to meet her. The trio was out of the building before I could say Holy Murderer-on-the-lamb Batman.

The Spring Fling had been postponed to a sunny day when planting would be a more enjoyable activity. The teacher asked me if I wouldn’t mind making some copies for her. Was I going to say “No” to a teacher? Certainly not, but making copies was as high on my list of fun things to do as scooping runny dung from the kitty litter box.

But in the copier room I ran into Roz.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said. “Did you see Bunny?”

“No, did you?”

“Can you believe it? In the office.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“She didn’t seem interested in talking. Thank goodness. She signed her boys out early.”

“Wonder what that’s all about.”

“She’s probably fleeing the country as we speak.”

“You’re being a little dramatic.” She changed the subject, most likely to keep me calm. “I tried to call Peggy a minute ago. She didn’t pick up at home or on her cell.”

“Maybe she was in line at the grocery store. I don’t pick up my phone if I’m shopping.”

“Maybe.” She looked at her watch. “It’s almost noon now. Should we just go over?”

I nodded. “When we’re done. Good news by the way—Shashi Kapoor says she’ll keep me up to date if she hears anything on the suspect front.”

“How would she know?”

“She says she has friends in high places. I think it’s that policeman who’s always hitting on her when she’s on crossing guard duty.” The copier stopped. “I’m going to take these copies back to Bethany’s teacher then head to Peggy’s.”

“I have to meet with the principal about this yearbook thing.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get there when I can.”

When I returned the copies to the teacher, she sweetly asked if I could staple them and staple into handy study packets. Any classroom volunteer knows that sorting and stapling is even more boring than copying, but what’s a good mother to do?

Two paper cuts and a stapling blister later, I stepped outside to dry sky. The drab gray clouds were breaking, and promising patches of azure shone through. When I pulled up to Peggy’s house a few minutes later, her entire street was bathed in sunlight, and I finally felt like smiling again. Her van was in the driveway. The Rubenstein’s house was a traditional brick front colonial, common in Rustic Woods, but it had a distinctly Peggy flavor. Most notably, the Italian tile plaque in her flower garden that welcomed guests -
Benvenuti amici!
I parked at the curb and crossed the lawn to the front stoop. I would have knocked on the glossy catsup-red door, but it was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open and hollered my usual, “Yoo hoo! Anybody home?”

No answer. I stepped in. We were good enough friends that I had no worries about entering her house without an invitation, but I didn’t want to scare her since I hadn’t called first. Roz had once and Peggy jumped her with a fireplace poker.

“Peggy? Are you here?” I walked through the living room to the family room. No sign of her. I yelled a little louder in case she was upstairs in her bedroom. “Peggy? It’s Barb!” Silence. Not a footstep. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed hers. One ring in my ear was followed by a chirp from the kitchen. Another ring, another chirp from the kitchen. I followed the chirping and located Peggy’s cell lying on her kitchen counter near the sink.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have worried, but the strong odor of gas gave me pause. Nausea set in. I yelled her name one more time before covering my mouth and nose with my hand. As I turned to the stove, my gaze fell on the refrigerator. A message was scrawled on a magnetic white board. A message written in blood.