Marriage Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story (A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery) (18 page)

Sigh. At least I was still “on the right side of the grass,” as my kids used to say.

I waited until I smelled the delicious aroma of coffee perking – with just a pinch of cinnamon added, unless my nose was lying to me – to make an appearance in the kitchen.

Jim handed me a mug of steaming coffee without commenting on my choice of attire – one of his old sweatshirts over my pajamas.

Victoria’s Secret could take a hint from me. Start designing a line of lingerie with elastic waists for us more “mature” customers. Then maybe I’d finally use the gift certificate Jim gave me for Valentine’s Day several years ago.

Or, better yet, maybe I could give the gift certificate to Jenny. I hoped I remembered where I’d stashed it. Long-term memory versus short- term memory – both of mine are equally bad.

This started my mind moseying down another path. We hadn’t discussed this, but I wondered if I should think of organizing a bridal shower for Jenny. Was it appropriate for the mother-of-the-bride to do that? Was that the responsibility of the bridal party?

The bridal party, in this case, was my elusive daughter-in-law Marlee, and I doubted if she’d fly up from Florida to attend a shower for Jenny, much less organize one long-distance.

“Earth to Carol,” said Jim, startling me out of my musing. “Wherever you are, can you come back and figure out what we have in the house for breakfast? I gave the refrigerator a quick look and couldn’t find anything.”

A major exaggeration, of course. Even when I was on my death bed, I can assure you my refrigerator would be well stocked before I checked out. I wouldn’t want to run the risk that the mourners would think I wasn’t organized.

I rummaged around said refrigerator, and came up with some stale bagels and a tub of cream cheese with a questionable expiration date. Well, it would have to do, and hopefully we wouldn’t die of food poisoning. As I placed the toasted bagel in front of my husband, I said, “I know this isn’t up to the standards of the Grey Gull Inn, but it’s all I can find. I’ll go food shopping later today, after I pick up the dogs.

“Unless you want to go to the food store,” I said, daring him to reply.

Jim looked a little panicky at the very thought – which was exactly what I wanted. He may reorganize my kitchen when the mood strikes him, and I may not be able to find anything for the indefinite future, but he’s smart enough to know that food shopping and meal planning is beyond him. Unless he finally enrolls in that Lifetime Learners nutrition course at the community college he’s been talking about for months.

I crunched down on the hard bagel, scattering crumbs all over the table. Oh, well. I had something on my mind – well, several things, obviously. But one in particular was really bothering me.

So I verbalized it to Jim, wanting some input. For once.

“What do you make of Mike and Marlee dropping out of the wedding?” I asked. “Don’t you think it’s odd? It’s like Marlee doesn’t really want to be part of this family.”

Jim fixed me with a stare which was almost as impressive as one of mine. “Don’t go making a federal case out of it, Carol,” he said. “Those two kids are already married. And it makes perfect sense that they don’t want to upstage Jenny and Mark on their wedding day. Just to please you.”

Ouch. That hurt. Even if it was true.

“That’s a little harsh, dear,” I said. “We were both disappointed not to see them married, as I recall. In fact, you pitched a real fit about it, without letting them know how hurt you were. Remember?”

And made me take the rap.

I fixed him with a wifely stare of my own.

“Remember?” I repeated, just in case he didn’t hear me the first time.

“I remember,” he said. “Sorry, honey. I shouldn’t be blaming you. But I do think that you’re making a big deal out of nothing. They’ve both said they still want to be Jenny and Mark’s witnesses. They want to be part of the wedding, just not the stars. I think it makes perfect sense. And what do you mean about Marlee not wanting to be part of this family? There you go, jumping to conclusions, the way you always do.”

Humph. I couldn’t count all the times that the conclusions I jumped to were absolutely correct. My woman’s intuition is right on the money. “I just think there’s something odd about Marlee changing the way she looks so drastically,” I said, defending myself. “And now, she doesn’t want to be remarried so we can be present. And don’t tell me this was Mike’s idea. I know it was hers. It’s almost like she’s….”

“Maybe she’s just shy, Carol,” said Jim. “You know, we can be a pretty intimidating bunch.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Jim stopped me. “Think about it. Mark, Jenny and Mike have known each other since grade school. And we’ve known Mark since he was a kid, too. That’s a pretty tight bond. And then Marlee enters the picture, with no prior history whatsoever. I can’t blame her for feeling shy.

“Drop it, Carol. I repeat, she’s just shy. And she’s Mike’s wife. We have enough other
real
things to worry about. For instance, what are you going to say to Nancy about what happened on Nantucket?”

Well, that brought my Marlee musings to a screeching halt.

How exactly does a person tell her best friend that her about-to-be ex-husband is suspected of murdering his girlfriend? Well, no matter what, I wasn’t going to do it alone.

I needed help from the rest of my gang – Mary Alice, Claire and Deanna. No way I was heading into this conversation by myself.

“Thanks so much for taking care of Lucy and Ethel,” I said to Mary Alice. My dogs had greeted me with restrained enthusiasm, then settled back down to take a snooze.

“I guess they didn’t miss me too much,” I said, trying not to be hurt by the obvious way both canines had made themselves at home at Mary Alice’s.

“You say the same thing every time I take care of them,” Mary Alice said, laughing. “Lucy and Ethel
may
like me, but you’ll always be their number one human. You know that, Carol. And you wouldn’t want to leave them with someone they didn’t like, would you?”

My eyes welled up. “I know you’re right. But I could use some unconditional love right now.”

“I am so sorry,” Mary Alice said, leading me to a kitchen chair and handing me a tissue to mop my eyes. “I never thought that by letting Lucy and Ethel sleep in my room, they’d transfer their allegiance from you to me. I’m sure when they get home, everything will get back to normal. They really do love you best.”

“That’s not it,” I said, dabbing my eyes. Carefully, so as not to make them any redder. They aren’t as resilient as they used to be.

Since we’ve been such close friends since before puberty, Mary Alice knew better than to pepper me with questions. Instead, she picked up Ethel, who was snoozing in a sunbeam, and put her in my lap.

That did it.

I buried my head in my dog’s soft warm fur and started to sob. For real. No holding back this time.

“Oh, Carol, my God, what is it?”

“I’m just so glad to see my dogs,” I lied. “The rest can wait until everyone else gets here. Are Claire and Deanna both coming?”

“I called them, like you asked me to,” Mary Alice said. “Claire will be here in…” she checked her wrist watch (yes, some of us oldsters still wear them) “fifteen minutes.

“But Deanna said she couldn’t come. She had a rush hair styling to do. And you’ll never guess who it was for!”

Mary Alice looked like – forgive me for this, please – the cat that swallowed the canary. (Or, to rephrase this into my personal vernacular, the dog that swallowed the biscuit.)

“I give up,” I said, stroking Ethel’s head. I was a little calmer now, thank goodness. Just holding one of my dogs made things seem normal. Almost. “Who’s Deanna’s rush appointment?”

“Nancy!” said Mary Alice. “She has a hot date tonight, thanks to the Internet dating service she and I both joined. Remember? Dream Dates?”

I remembered, all right.

“I hope Deanna doesn’t say anything to Nancy. That I’m back from Nantucket, I mean.”

I dissolved into tears. Again. Yes, I know, slap me.

“For heaven’s sake, Carol, what is going on with you? We never keep secrets from each other. I thought it was a little strange that you asked me to call Claire and Deanna, but not Nancy. Then I figured you must have called her yourself.”

I continued to sniffle. But more quietly.

“Let’s just wait for Claire to get here, and then I’ll tell you both everything,” I said. “I need your advice. About Nancy. And, especially, about Bob.”

Mary Alice looked at me, wide-eyed. “Claire better get here soon. I’m dying of curiosity.”

Poor choice of words, under the circumstances.

“Let me put some coffee on,” Mary Alice said. “And maybe I can find some cookies.”

Coffee at Mary Alice’s is not a taste treat. Being a nurse, she’s a bit of a health nut and only serves a special brand of decaffeinated coffee she gets at a health food store. Believe me, it has no flavor whatsoever. And what’s the point of no caffeine in coffee? That’s no fun at all.

I also figured any cookies she’d found were bound to be from the same health food store and would be as tasteless as the coffee. Since Mary Alice lives alone, she doesn’t keep the kind of food staples on hand that I do. She subsists mostly on fresh fruits and vegetables, and any fish or meat she eats is organic. No preservatives whatsoever. To each her own, I guess.

I do think about trying to eat healthier. But then I worry that all the preservatives in the foods I eat are preserving my body, and if I cut preservatives out of my diet completely, my entire body will fall apart.

“Don’t go to any trouble,” I said. “Knowing Claire, I’ll bet she stopped at The Paperback Cafe and picked up some goodies. That’s probably why she’s not here yet.”

I heard the sound of a car door slamming outside Mary Alice’s condo, then the front door bell ringing and ringing. And ringing.

Thank God.

“I’m coming,” yelled Mary Alice. “Golly, age hasn’t given Claire patience. I think she’s worse than ever.

“Carol, will you...?”

“Finish making the coffee?” I asked. “Sure. If Claire hasn’t brought some.”

“If Claire hasn’t brought what?” asked the friend in question, breezing into Mary Alice’s kitchen bearing an extra large shopping bag bearing the logo of The Paperback Café. Thank God, we can always depend on Claire to come through with the necessary essentials to deal with any crisis: coffee before noon (baked good optional but always welcome), and ice cream any time.

In case you were wondering.

If we’re dealing with a severe crisis, however, we’ve been known to skip the coffee entirely and go straight to the ice cream. Even Mary Alice makes an exception under those circumstances.

“Now, what’s this all about, Carol?” quizzed Claire, pulling up a chair and making herself comfortable at the kitchen table. “You look terrible. What happened? Jenny and Mark didn’t break up, did they?”

“Thanks a lot for the compliment,” I said. “I know I look terrible. I feel terrible too. And so will you two after I tell you what happened on Nantucket.”

I’ll skip the details of what I told them. After all, if you’ve been paying attention, you already know what happened.

“So, what do I do now?” I asked, wrapping up my sad tale and taking a welcome drink of coffee. “How do I tell Nancy? First of all, she’s going to freak when she finds out that she actually met Tiffani at the wedding show last weekend and didn’t know it.”

Mary Alice and Claire both spoke at once. “What do you mean, Nancy met Tiffani? How could you have let that happen?”

“I didn’t let anything happen,” I said in my defense. “Don’t blame me. Nancy found out that Jenny and Mark and Jim and I were going to the wedding show at the Westfair Country Club and just decided to show up. Blame Nancy for that, not me. You know how impetuous she can be. It was just a rotten coincidence that the wedding planner Jenny was working with turned out to be the woman who was wrecking Nancy’s marriage.”

“Sort of like
The Perfect Storm
,” Claire said. “Conditions ripe for a major blow-up.”

“I think you did the right thing not telling Nancy,” Mary Alice said. “There’s no telling how she would have reacted if she found out who Jenny’s wedding planner really was. And Nancy really had no business being at the wedding show in the first place.”