Murder on the Bucket List (21 page)

Francine had a feeling of dread. “You're right. I didn't.”

“I'm not saying she'll be there, but that woman seems to pop up a lot lately. Maybe she's going to try to get us on
Jerry Springer
next.”

“Now that's one show I absolutely refuse to be on.”

“Me, too, but I wouldn't mind being in the audience.” She began chanting. “Jer-ry, Jer-ry, Jer-ry.”

Jonathan maneuvered the sliding glass door open, juggling the plate of hamburgers and the grill tongs. He watched Charlotte chant. She noticed him and stopped.

He put the plate on the table. “I don't want to know what that was all about.”

Francine took the tongs from him and put them in the sink. “Trust me, you're better off not knowing.”

thirty-one

Francine took Charlotte home
after dinner. Her plan was to drop her off at the door so as to avoid any invitations to drink brandy, but since there was a dark sedan she didn't recognize parked at the next-door neighbor's house, she decided it would be best if she went in. She should at least make sure her friend was safe before she left.

“Want a nightcap?” Charlotte toddled down the hall toward the library.

“No, thank you. It's only seven thirty, a bit early for a nightcap.” She glanced into the family room, the kitchen, and each bedroom on the way down the hall.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing. Just making sure there's no one here.”

“It's creepy to think we have to worry about that, isn't it?”

“Yes, but that's the reality.”

Charlotte played with her cane. “We need to get the rumors out quickly, about the secret video and the mysterious Suspect Y.”

“I never agreed to participate in this rumormongering.”

“You're going to leave it all up to me?”

“Do me a favor and don't tell me how you'll do it.” She reminded Charlotte what time she would pick her up for lunch the next day and said good-bye.

Francine hadn't even gotten herself buckled into the Prius when she got a phone call. “Hello?”

“Shhh! It's Mary Ruth.”

“Why are you whispering?” she whispered back.

“Because I don't want Alice to hear. I need for you to come over.”

“Why? What's Alice doing there?”

“Larry moved out. She gave him an ultimatum, and he moved out. She's distraught and she's slowing me down. I have to get this food ready for tomorrow!”

“I'll be right over.” She called Jonathan to let him know why she'd be late, then she speed-walked over to Mary Ruth's house. Alice opened the door when Francine rang the doorbell. She wore
flowered capris Francine had never seen before and hoped she wouldn't see on Alice again. A black polo with dots of cookie dough on the collar was underneath a pink
Mary Ruth's Catering
apron. Her ever-present cross pendant was missing, which Francine immediately noticed.

“I'm going to invest in Mary Ruth's business,” Alice announced, slurring the words a bit.

“Really? Why is that?” Francine stepped warily into the house.

“Why not? Larry's hidden his trust fund in some sleazy offshore bank. The least I can do is use our money here in the States to help my friend expand her business.”

Mary Ruth's house was a two-story Colonial design, but small. Inside it felt even smaller because of the enlarged commercial kitchen she'd had built that took over most what had been the dining room. But the house always smelled wonderful, and right now it smelled like cakes baking in the oven. Alice, however, smelled like alcohol. She held a Manhattan in one hand. Francine guessed it was not her first drink of the evening.

“Not that I don't think it's a good idea to invest in Mary Ruth's business,” she said, “but don't you think you ought to talk to Larry about your investments?”

“Not anymore. I'm madder than the proverbial Mad Hatter. He still won't tell me what he did with all that money from his grandparents. The old nutcases probably had something in the trust fund provision that prevented me from getting my hands on it. They never liked me from the start.”

Francine got that empty feeling again, like maybe she and Charlotte were letting their friendship with Larry color who they suspected. He did seem to have a lot of secrets. There was circumstantial evidence that Friederich was flaunting something. Was it one of Larry's secrets? Would Larry kill to keep it hidden? Or did Larry think that trying to frame himself was clever and would make him look less suspicious in the end?

“Do you know why he's afraid to tell you?”

“No, and whatever the reason is, I don't know how it can be more horrible than the mistrust it's put between us.” She took a belt of the Manhattan. “Want a drink?”

“Maybe I could use a glass of wine.”

“I've got your favorite Chardonnay in here,” Mary Ruth called from the kitchen.

It seemed to snap Alice back to reality. “Oh, dear, I'm shirking my chopping duties.”

Mary Ruth's kitchen was in commercial duty mode. Dirty dishes were stacked next to the industrial-sized dishwasher, trays of cupcakes were lined up to be frosted, and prep for several other dishes was going on at a granite-topped rectangular island. Mary Ruth stood at a mixer, alternating wet and dry ingredients into the mixing bowl. “Do you mind helping, Francine? I don't know how we're going to get all this done without being up all night.”

Under Mary Ruth's direction, Alice resumed chopping vegetables for a southwestern Cobb salad. Francine put on a pink apron and began piping cream cheese frosting onto carrot cake cupcakes that had cooled.

Alice continued her nonstop patter about her difficulties. “So I just asked Larry to leave. And he did.”

Francine looked up from the rows of cupcakes. “Just like that? He didn't say anything?”

“No. I mean, he showed some emotion, thank God. Cried a little. Kept saying he was sorry, and that one day he hoped I would understand, but there was something he had to do before he could tell me anything.”

“No hints as to when that might be?” Francine asked, hoping for clues of some kind.

“He acted like whatever it was he was going to do, it would be done in the next couple of days. I told him he could come back when he was ready to tell me.”

A couple of days
, Francine thought. Jake, too, hoped to have his fortune decided in that time frame, with a big win tomorrow. Charlotte was starting rumors that might affect someone in the next couple of days. And Joy was trying to land a correspondent position with a network. That was a lot of big events in such a short period of time.

“So you came over here to get away from the loneliness?”

“The loneliness, the anger, Darla Baggesen. I tried Joy, but she's not answering her phone.”

Francine thought it was weird Joy wouldn't answer Alice's phone call. Before the skinny-dipping incident and Joy's hiring of Marcy as a publicist, the two had been close friends. She hoped this whole craziness would end soon.

Mary Ruth quieted the mixer and entered the conversation. “What was Darla doing to you? Checking the pool shed for more dead bodies?”

“In a manner of speaking. I don't know how many times she's been over, asking what the latest is on how Friederich died and whether Larry's been cleared yet. I don't know why
she's
so anxious to have Larry cleared. Will the homeowners' association throw a party for us and drop the grievances for the violations she's dreamed up if he gets cleared?”

“You know what a gossip Darla is. She's probably fishing for information more than she's hoping for Larry to be innocent.”

Mary Ruth's comment struck Francine. Darla had told them Jake was a hero in her daughter Sara's eyes. That could explain it. Maybe she was trolling for gossip to reassure Sara. Or could there be a different motivation? Friederich had kept track of photos of Sara. What were Sara's secrets? What did he know about Sara? Did Darla suspect that Friederich knew something, and so was checking up? Maybe damage control? Certainly Darla and Sara had a complicated mother/daughter relationship. Sara reportedly wanted to be a model more than she wanted to be a race car driver. Darla kept Sara on a short leash. Her ex-husband Vince had filed for custody. Alice had said that Sara wanted the custody change.

But maybe it had nothing to do with anything.

She piped a few more cupcakes. “Do you think Larry's being back from Vegas while we were having the skinny-dipping party had to do with the secret bank account?”

Alice had been banging on the cutting board, taking out aggression on the poor vegetables. She stopped to answer. “Maybe. If we knew what the secret bank account was all about.”

Darla had made a comment during the luncheon that the police seemed to be ignoring whatever Friederich may have had on Larry. “If we assume that the killer knew Larry would be back early for a secret meeting, I wonder if he also knew about the bank account. Maybe Friederich knew about it.”

“If
I
didn't know about the secret bank account, I don't know how Friederich or the killer would have known,” Alice said.

Mary Ruth poured the batter she'd just created into the paper cups that lined her cupcake trays. “I still find it creepy to think that the killer might live in our neighborhood.”

“It makes sense, though,” Francine said, “since the killer had some inkling of what Larry was doing and had the ability to track him.”

Alice put down her knife. “I just feel so blindsided. My decision to have Larry followed was a last-minute thing. Should I have noticed something sooner, done something sooner? If the killer lives in our neighborhood and noticed …” She let the thought trail off.

“Don't stop, Alice,” Mary Ruth said. “We have to keep plugging away if we're going to get this done.”

Alice resumed hacking the vegetables into pieces. “I'm a terrible business partner. I'm sorry.”

When Mary Ruth didn't answer immediately, Francine filled the silence, hoping Alice didn't notice. “I wonder if Charlotte shouldn't refocus on her original question about why Friederich's body ended up in Alice and Larry's pool shed?”

“She did say right from the start that if we wanted to find the killer, we needed to answer that question,” Mary Ruth said.

“Doesn't it feel like it was a long time ago, even though it's only been a few days?” Francine said. “A lot of what happened changed our focus. But in the end, it's still a major question that needs resolving.”

A timer went off. Mary Ruth stopped it from beeping. “Francine, would you mind taking those cupcakes out of the oven? I'm just about ready to put these in.”

Francine went over to the oven. Sitting next to it was a cross necklace, the one Alice never took off. The one that held the clue to her #1 Sixty List item. Just yesterday Francine had said in jest that it would require divine intervention or too much liquor for Alice to take it off. And here it was. She blocked Alice's view and turned it over. There was an inscription, Genesis 18:12–14. She memorized it and set the necklace back down.

Alice successfully finished cutting broccoli and cauliflower and moved to slicing zucchini and yellow squash. “I've been in real estate long enough to answer the pool shed question. The body went into that particular shed because of location, location, location.”

Mary Ruth ran her finger around the top edge of the bowl and licked the batter off of it. “Mmm, that's good. If I do have to say so myself.”

“What kind of cupcakes are you making?”

“It's a banana cream pie cupcake. I've got crushed vanilla wafers mixed in with the banana batter, and I'm going to frost them with whipped cream. It was a special request from Darla.”

“Darla?” Francine asked. “What are you doing making cupcakes for Darla?”

“She got me the catering job, remember? I told her I'd also make cupcakes for Sara's racing team tomorrow.”

“Wait! Is Sara in the same race as Jake?” Francine remembered that Charlotte's detective work with the magazines from Friederich's place revealed the two were at the same events but hadn't raced against each other. If they were an item, why would she suddenly race against him now? Were they in a relationship or not? Or was it more complicated than that?

“They're in the same race. I don't think it's a big secret,” Alice said. “Darla's mentioned it to me at least twice since she's been visiting so often.” She went over to where Mary Ruth was sampling the batter and picked up the spatula. “Can I lick this?”

“You're as bad as Charlotte. No. Francine, did you notice that I refrained from doing any more tasting than just a little bit of the batter?”

“Brady would be proud of you.”

Alice snatched up the spatula and licked it anyway. “Mmm. I can't wait to taste one of those cupcakes.”

Mary Ruth looked at the messy kitchen. “Tomorrow, Alice. Tonight, we finish the prep work or die trying.”

Die trying
, Francine thought. She hoped nothing so drastic would happen today or tomorrow.

thirty-two

The minute she got
home, Francine looked up the passage from Genesis. It was the story of how the Lord told Abraham that though Sarah laughed at the idea she could have a child in her old age, nothing was too wonderful for the Lord. And he promised that she would have a son.

Francine's heart went out to Alice. Her #1 bucket list item was to have a child! To be in her seventies and living with such regret must be painful. Alice and Larry had been married late in life, too late for a child. They were probably too old to adopt by then too. Francine wasn't sure what to do with the information. She might tell Joy, since Joy was the one who'd found out that the key verse could be found on the cross. But maybe not. Maybe such a far-fetched hope would be best kept secret until Alice decided to reveal it.

Francine didn't sleep well that night.

The next day she rolled up in front of Charlotte's house at 10:45 to pick her up and take her to the Bob Evans for their meeting with Joy. Two reporters in news vans followed her from her house.

Charlotte waved at the vans before getting in. “I'm hungry. I dreamt all morning about their biscuits,” she told Francine.

“It's better than what I dreamt about last night. Friederich's dead body flopping out of Alice's shed, but instead of eyes he had vanilla wafers and instead of a mouth he had a peeled banana. In place of his hair he had whipped cream.”

“Sounds delicious. Did you eat a banana cream pie before you went to bed?”

Francine backed the car out of the driveway. “Kind of. After I left your house yesterday I ended up helping Mary Ruth and Alice get ready for her catering event today. She was making banana cream cupcakes.”

Charlotte buckled her seat belt. “And you got to help. I never get to help. She's still sore about the time I stuck my finger in that batch of chocolate chip cookie dough and took a lick of it in front of Betty the lunatic health inspector, isn't she? Because I thought we all got over that.”

“I think she would get over it if she thought you wouldn't do it again. You know she was on probation for nearly a month.”

“That Betty Partlow, she really knows how to hold a grudge. All because I ran for secretary of the Hendricks County Garden Society thirty years ago and beat her, she's never forgiven me.”

“You have a way of inflaming resentment.”

Charlotte leaned right and looked in the passenger side mirror. “How long have the paparazzi been with you?”

“They were waiting at the curb this morning when I got up. They've been really bad this morning. They've knocked on the door, rang the doorbell, called. Jonathan tried to shoo them away but they kept asking him weird questions about Ravel's
Boléro
and wouldn't leave.”

“Is that anything like a sombrero?”

Francine chuckled. “Ravel is a composer.
Boléro
is a ballet piece he's famous for. I feel like it was in the soundtrack of a movie, but I can't remember which. Maybe I'll look it up later.”

“I wonder why the paparazzi are asking about it.”

“Who knows? I just want this murder solved so they'll go away.”

Charlotte folded her arms. “You know what's weird? Until you picked me up, I hadn't seen any of them today.”

“That is weird. Ever since Marcy's managed to get us on the “D” celebrity list, she keeps finding ways to extend our fifteen minutes of fame. We need for Joy to get rid of her.”

“Fat chance of that happening. And I don't see why you're complaining. You could have had
The View
. I'll be lucky if I get a cameo on
Jersey Shore
.”

Francine didn't know what
Jersey Shore
was, but if Charlotte didn't want to be on it, she probably didn't want to be on it either.

Charlotte pulled Friederich's iPod Touch out of her purse. “I got this thing charged up last night, but now I need a password to get in.”

“Really? I didn't know you could password protect those things.”

“You got any ideas on what to try?”

“Have you thought about the police?”

“Why would he use a password like ‘the police'?”

The joke was bad, but Francine laughed in spite of it. “Don't be obtuse. You know what I mean.”

“I do, and you know I'm not going to take it to them. I keep telling you, they don't care about listening to Friederich's music.”

“You can store other things on iPods than music.”

“Like what?”

“Like videos.” The moment it came out of Francine's mouth, she made the connection. From the look on Charlotte's face, she made the same connection. “What if Friederich stored the video of his secret lover on there?” Francine asked.

Charlotte stared at the iPod in her hand. “It's possible.”

The paparazzi followed them into the parking lot of the Bob Evans.

“Maybe we should take this directly to the police station,” Francine said, cruising for a parking spot.

“I don't know. The police have Friederich's computer. Wouldn't it be on the computer instead of his iPod? Or, at the very least, wouldn't it be on both?”

“The newer iPods have cameras. That's why I didn't think about it before. Mine doesn't. He might have recorded it directly onto the iPod instead of using a camera and then transferring it.” She parked the car.

“That's not what Jake said. Jake said Friederich told him he used the hidden video cameras to make the recording.”

Francine glanced up in time to see a cameraman getting out of a news van and a female reporter with a handheld mike advancing toward them. “Stick the iPod in your purse and let's get into the building, quick. Here comes the press.”

Charlotte jammed the device into her purse. Francine opened her car door and said, “No comment.”

Charlotte swung her door open, leaned on her cane, and slid out. She stood and waved. “I'm having eggs and biscuits, in case anyone wants to know.”

The reporter babbled something about YouTube, but Francine did her best to ignore her as they pushed their way into the Bob Evans front doors. There was a crowd, which surprised her, but they got seated immediately with Joy and Marcy, who were already there, leaving the reporter and the cameraman in the lobby.

“Whew,” Francine said, looking back toward the entrance to the restaurant. She spun in her chair and confronted Marcy. “This is all your fault.”

“No, it's not,” Joy said. “It's mine. That's why I wanted you to be here. We need to clear the air.” She was wearing an
RTV-6
polo shirt, slightly too large. The material bunched in front, and every few seconds she shrugged her shoulders back in an attempt to straighten it up. “I never thought it would be like this when I hired Marcy. She's done what I asked.”

Marcy had her cell phone on top of the open menu and hit a few buttons. “I knew that if I focused this on Joy alone it wouldn't have the impact we needed if we were going to get her opportunities to work with the media. It had to be that all of you were worthy of attention. And for the most part, it worked. That
GMA
interview was the best. Francine, you really stood out. That water rescue couldn't have played better if we'd scripted it.”

The waitress came over carrying a coffee pot, saw that Joy and Marcy's coffee mugs were empty, and filled them. “Y'all ready to order yet?”

“I think we need a few more minutes,” Joy said. She left and Joy turned apologetic. “I'm only sorry you ended up being played for comedy, Charlotte.”

“That certainly wasn't my intention,” Marcy added. “But on the other hand, if you're willing to say the vomiting episode was caused by lactose intolerance, I may be able to get you a commercial spot for Lact-Away. It's a small company. There's not much money in it, but they're very interested.”

“I don't know,” Charlotte said. “I might want to hold out for something a little more … glamorous.”

Marcy stopped smiling. “That might be tough. I have some bad news. Except for Francine and, to some extent, Joy, the rest of you are yesterday's news.”

Charlotte thought a moment. “Is that why the reporters were gone this morning?”

“Yes. The Food Network turned Mary Ruth down, no one cares about Alice, and Fox Sports dropped their offer to audition Joy, although Mary Ruth is still catering for them. Fortunately Joy is still being considered by
GMA
as a correspondent for senior issues.”

Joy sniffed. “I've been reduced to working for the track network as a roving reporter. I may even have to do my own camera work.”

“But you, Francine, are still hot,” Marcy continued. “I've booked you on
The Dr. Oz Show
.”

Francine started to object, but Marcy waved her quiet. “It's really too late for you to say no. They've agreed to fly you out of Indianapolis on Monday for Tuesday's taping. You'll be talking about staying in shape in your seventies and keeping up your swimming skills.”

“It's not too late. I just won't go.”

Marcy buried her head in her hands. “Please don't do this to me. You're the only thing left I've got going. Besides Joy, of course.” When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes.

Francine hated to see people cry. “I'm sure you can come up with something else. Why'd Fox Sports drop Joy?”

“You don't get it, do you? The media's fickle. You have to capitalize on what you've got when you've got it. One of the Kardashians changes gender, gets a quickie divorce, or has a baby and suddenly you're yesterday's news. Well, not you personally, Francine. You're a YouTube sensation, at least for the moment. It's why I had to sign the contract for
Dr. Oz
right away. They've already started promoting your appearance.” She handed her phone to Francine.

A YouTube video was playing. Francine recognized the scene as being from the
Good Morning America
segment. Mary Ruth, with one hand on the side of the pool and the other grasping a stair rail, gulped air with a crazed look in her eyes. Everything was in slow motion. Francine rose slowly out of the water next to Mary Ruth. She shook her head, her hair flinging water droplets from side to side. She placed both hands on the stair rails and pulled herself onto a step. In slow motion she ascended the stairs, the wet sundress clinging to her body. Francine still had a good figure, and the dress showed it off. The way the video had been crafted reminded her of a movie segment, but she couldn't place it. Then she recognized the music, only because she'd heard the name earlier in the day. “That's
Boléro
!” She put it altogeth
er. “This is a parody of Bo Derek in
10
!” Francine sat in a horrified
stupor.

Charlotte snatched the phone away from her just as the announcer said, “Francine McNamara, the septuagenarian YouTube sensation who saved her friend's life. Learn how she stays in shape. Tuesday on
Dr. Oz
.”

“This is a great still picture of you at the end of the commercial. I don't think they played
Boléro
at that point in the movie, but it hardly matters. This is no parody, Francine. You look pretty good. I can see why he would want you on the show.”

Francine's face reddened. “How do you …?” She realized she was shouting at Marcy and quieted her voice to a terse reprimand. “How are you able to sign a contract for me? I never hired you as my publicist.”

“No, but Joy did. And my agreement with her calls for me to do whatever is necessary to fulfill certain expectations, which I can't do without promoting you. I hate to play hardball, but if you sue me, I'll drag Joy into the lawsuit, and then you'll be suing your friend. You really don't want to do that, do you? Especially when it's much easier to just go along and do the interview. They're flying me, too, so I can coach you through this.”

Francine looked to Joy, whose eyes pleaded with her to agree. “It's not like it isn't a huge compliment to you,” Joy said. “And remember, you'd be fulfilling your Sixty List number 10, Encourage Fitness Among Peer Age Group.”

Charlotte put her arm around Francine and gave her a quick hug. “Well, she's got you there. It
is
on your list. And you could knock that one out of the park with an appearance on
Dr. Oz
.”

Francine gritted her teeth. “I was going to cross it off once Mary Ruth started working out with Brady.”

“See that table over there,” Marcy said, stealthily indicating a family seated in the corner. “One of them has her cell phone out.”

Francine glanced their way. Sure enough, the young mother was recording their interaction on her phone. “Let's turn and wave at them,” she said.

They all pivoted toward the table and waved. The mother waved sheepishly and put the phone away.

Charlotte said, “Seriously, Francine, you've got to do this. How many people get a chance like this? And you know Jonathan will be supportive. He'll be proud of you.”

“We're ready to order,” Marcy said, summoning the waitress.

Francine knew Marcy was only trying to avoid a confrontation. “I want that video taken off the air and replaced with something more dignified.”

“I'll see what I can do, but I don't know if I have that much leverage.”

Marcy ordered a sandwich, Francine a salad, and Charlotte eggs, biscuits, and a side of pancakes. Joy, who hardly ever
ate anything, ordered toast. The waitress put her order pad in her pocket, topped off Joy's coffee, and left.