The Fashion Hound Murders (16 page)

Josie drove past the Tudor palaces, Italian villas, and French chateaus of Wood Winds. The guard at the gate gave her a mock salute when she waved.

Josie arrived early enough to sit in the car-pool line in the school drive and trade fake smiles with the other mothers. Many of the women at the Barrington School knew Josie was not one of them, and they were cool toward her.

While she waited for Amelia, Josie called her mother. Jane answered on the second ring.

“How are you feeling?” Josie asked.

“Better,” Jane said. “My hand is still sore, but otherwise I don’t feel bad. I have some good news. That terrible dog did not have rabies.”

“That’s wonderful, Mom. Gotta go. Your granddaughter is coming out of school now. She’ll be happy to hear that.”

“Send her upstairs if she wants to see me,” Jane said.

It was a warm winter day, and Amelia ran out wearing the stylish multilayered tops that so puzzled her grandmother. Josie was pleased she’d managed to dress her daughter like the other girls in her class. No point being a professional shopper if you couldn’t help your own family.

Those cheerful thoughts vanished when Amelia threw her backpack into the rear seat and flopped down beside Josie. Amelia seemed on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong?” Josie asked.

“Nothing,” Amelia said, in a tone that meant “everything.”

“Something is wrong and you’d better tell me,” Josie said. “I’m not going to have you sulking all evening.”

Amelia took a deep breath and said, “It’s nothing.”

“It is, too,” Josie said.

Suddenly, Amelia burst out with, “I showed my picture of Harry to Zoe and she laughed. Zoe says that Harry has big ears because he’s a mutt cat and her cat is a purebred with little ears.”

“Her cat may have purebred ears, but her owner is pure rude,” Josie said. “Besides, she’s wrong and I’ll show you. I have proof at home.” What Josie had was a vague memory of fourth grade history.

“How’s Grandma?” Amelia said.

“She says she’s feeling better. The dog that attacked her didn’t have rabies, so she won’t have to go through those awful shots.”

“Can I see her?” Amelia’s bad mood was melting away as she talked about her grandmother.

“She’s waiting for you. I’ll look for my proof while you run upstairs to see her.”

Amelia ran inside their home long enough to check on Harry. “He’s sleeping on my bed, Mom,” she said. “He ate all his food. I gave him more. I’m going upstairs to see Grandma.”

“Okay,” Josie said. “But don’t ask her to cook with you tonight. Her hand still hurts.”

Josie went to the corner where she had her bedroom office on the garage-sale table. While she waited for an Internet connection, Josie wished she could call down punishment on that troublemaker, Zoe. The girl was the bane of Barrington. Zoe wore slutty outfits. She drank booze and fed the other girls dangerously outdated sex information. She told everyone a girl couldn’t get pregnant the first time she had sex.

Making fun of Amelia’s cat was petty, but at least it wouldn’t do any harm.

On the Internet, Josie found photos of statues of Bast, the Egyptian cat goddess, as well as pedigreed Abyssinian cats. She printed the pictures for Amelia.

Her daughter was downstairs half an hour later with a smile and a white smear on her face.

“What’s on your cheek?” Josie asked.

Amelia looked in the living room mirror. “Powdered sugar,” she said, brushing it off. “Grandma gave me some of Mrs. Mueller’s gooey butter cake. I don’t like her, but she makes a good cake.”

“Maybe she should swallow some sugar herself,” Josie said. “Here’s the truth about Harry. Look at these pedigreed Abyssinian cats.”

Amelia examined the photos. “They have ears just like Harry.”

“Big ears,” Josie said. “And a long pedigree. Abys may have been the world’s first pedigreed cats. This picture is Bast, the cat goddess. The Egyptians worshiped their domestic cats as gods. Bast’s ears are big, too, and she has a slender face. Talk about royalty. Harry’s ancestors go way back, and they had royal blood. He has a longer bloodline that Zoe’s flat-faced feline, and you can show her.”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need to show her anything. Zoe doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s a loser face.”

Josie checked her phone messages, but she could hardly hear them because of the racket. She looked out into the hall. Amelia was dragging a pale ribbon along the floor while Harry tried to catch it. The little cat made more noise than a herd of buffalo.

“Amelia, could you and your friend hold it down?” Josie asked. “I have to make a phone call.”

“Sorry,” Amelia said.

Stan had left no message—again. Is our romance over? Josie wondered. She rather hoped it would die a quiet death. Jerry was not the man for her, but her relationship with the hunky Stan was limping along.

There was one message from Jerry. “My mom loved meeting you,” he said. “Would you and Amelia like to see me tonight? Maybe we could go out for coffee or take Chloe for a walk.”

Josie called him back and left a message. “I’d like to see you tonight, Jerry, and it’s very kind of you to include Amelia, but she has to study for a quiz tomorrow. She can’t go with us. Come by about seven and we’ll go for coffee. Bring Chloe if you want, just so long as she doesn’t water Mom’s porch.”

Amelia didn’t really have a quiz. But Josie had some questions for Jerry—and she wanted answers. Tonight.

Chapter 18

“This is a good cookie,” Jerry said. “And I’m only eating one.” He tilted his head to one side, which made him look rather like a cocker spaniel. No doubt about it, the man was cute.

Jerry’s cookie was eight inches in diameter, one of the specialties of the Cupcakery in St. Louis. Josie had nearly convinced herself that her double-chocolate cupcake wasn’t a calorie trap. It wasn’t as if she’d ordered a whole slab of cake.

Ah, delusions, she thought. They’re the only way to survive dating.

Josie had deliberately chosen the little bakery in the city’s Central West End neighborhood because it closed at eight thirty. That guaranteed a short night with Jerry. She suspected this evening was going to end badly. Jerry’s mood was cooling faster than their coffee. But she kept asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. She kept after him, like a mosquito trapped in a room.

“Does Jonah have a dog? What kind of dog?” Jerry echoed her questions, then bit his cookie as if he were angry at it.

“A big dog, like maybe a rottweiler,” Josie said.

“So what if he does? He needs a guard dog out in the country,” Jerry said. “It takes a long time for the police to get up that back road. A big dog gives him protection.”

“Does he still have the dog?”

“How do I know which dogs the cops took?” Jerry raised his voice a notch. “I haven’t talked to Jonah since he got out on bail.”

The couple in line at the register glanced at him, took their cupcakes, and left the warm, sugary-smelling shop.

“Where were you the night before last?” Josie asked.

“Excuse me?” Jerry asked. “Did we make a commitment? I thought we were just having fun.”

“That’s us, no strings,” Josie said, forcing a smile. “I’ll tell you where I was, though. I was home with my mom. She’d been attacked by a big rottweiler, and a police officer had to shoot it dead. She got twelve stitches in her arm.”

“And you think I had something to do with that?”

“No,” Josie said. But her voice sounded uncertain. Jerry heard her hesitation.

“Jonah!” Jerry said. “That’s why you’re asking about his guard dogs. You think Jonah’s dog attacked your mother!”

His anger bounced off the sweet little shop’s walls. Josie was afraid it would smash the cupcakes. The young woman behind the counter stared at them, cell phone in hand. They were making a scene. Was she going to call 911?

“No, no,” Josie said, trying to soothe him. “Of course not. But Jonah was arrested for animal abuse.”

“And you’re going to kick him while he’s down,” Jerry said.

Fury flashed in his eyes. For the first time Josie was a little afraid of Jerry. Maybe he wasn’t as gentle as he seemed. He certainly defended his friend when the man didn’t deserve it.

“Everyone hates Jonah after that news story,” he said. “Nobody gives a hardworking man the benefit of the doubt. Nobody wants to hear his side.”

His side? Josie had seen the video of those shivering, suffering pups. That said it all.

“I just wondered if you told him where I lived, that’s all,” Josie said.

“Of course I didn’t tell him. Why would he care? Jonah called a day or two after our visit. He said you were a nice girl and you could come by anytime to see his dogs. I said I was lucky you lived near me in Maplewood. My last girl—the one with the tattoos that Mom didn’t like—was way down in South County. But that’s all I said. That was our big, sinister conversation. Some conspiracy, huh? I never gave Jonah your address.”

Jerry wouldn’t have to. Josie was listed in the phone book. It wouldn’t be difficult for Jonah to pick out the Maplewood address. Josie wondered if Jonah had been out on bail when he’d developed a sudden interest in Jerry’s “nice” date. Jerry was too easy for the sly Jonah to manipulate. Or maybe Jerry was Jonah’s accomplice.

Suddenly, Josie lost her appetite. Her mother and daughter were home alone. Jonah was still on the loose. Dave, the store manager, was still on the run. She had to be with her family, to protect them, if necessary.

She stood up. “It’s getting late. I need to get back home.”

“Fine with me,” Jerry said. He left half of his giant cookie on the table, next to her partly eaten cupcake. Josie picked up the box of cupcakes she’d bought for her mother and Amelia. She and Jerry walked out together, careful not to touch each other.

The drive home was like a punishment. Jerry did not take the romantic route through Forest Park, with its ancient trees and gentle fountains. He avoided Lindell Boulevard, lined with stained glass and stone mansions. Instead, he drove past the garish pizza parlors, gas stations, and bars until they reached a dreary industrial section of Manchester Road.

“How is Chloe?” Josie asked, trying to break the oppressive silence.

“Fine,” Jerry said. He flattened any further attempts at conversation with that one word. His dark battered pickup jerked and groaned on the city streets.

Josie was relieved when Jerry parked in front of her place. She grabbed her cupcake box, said good night, and hopped out before he could reply.

That’s the end of that romance, Josie thought. It’s just as well. We don’t agree on much except that Jerry’s puppy is cute.

The first thing Josie noticed was that the awful couch was finally gone. She glanced at Stan’s house next door. Before he became a hunk, Stan used to wait for her on his porch. He’d fix little things in her yard or on her car. Now the lights were off. His garage door was closed. Either Stan was still at the gym or home asleep, worn out by his latest body-building effort. The man was obsessed with perfecting perfection.

Josie knew she had to find the courage to tell Stan good-bye. Last Sunday night had been the end. She needed to stop seeing him while they were still friends.

A light went on in Stan’s living room. “Josie?” he called from his front door. Josie could see he was wearing the black T-shirt she’d bought him last Christmas. If anything, he filled it out better than he did a year ago.

“Could I talk to you a minute?” Stan asked.

“Sure,” Josie said, and started toward his home. He met her halfway.

They stood awkwardly by the curb where he and Howie had moved the ancient couch. “Josie, there’s no easy way to say this.” Stan held her hand, which looked small and delicate in his massive paw. His wrist was the size of a healthy sapling. His arm was perfectly sculpted.

Stan took a deep breath and said, “I’ll always be your friend, Josie, but I don’t think we’re working out as a couple.”

“What!” Josie said.

“We don’t see eye to eye. Sunday night, I took you to my special place, and you hated it.”

“But—”

“You’re a good person, Josie, but it’s better if you find someone who shares your interests. I’ve found my special someone. Her name is Abby. You’d like her. She teaches third grade and we have so much in common. She’s terrific with coupons. We shopped together last Monday, and Abby saved seventeen dollars and eleven cents at the supermarket. She has her coupons in a special file, organized by product, price, and store. I want to make a serious commitment to her, Josie, but I’ll always be your friend.”

“Sure,” Josie said. “This is kind of a surprise.”

“It just happened,” Stan said. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her. It was love at first sight when we met in the checkout line. It’s not fair to keep going out with you.”

“You’re a good man.” Josie kissed him gently on the cheek. “Abby is a lucky girl. Good night.”

Stan turned to go back inside, leaving a dazed Josie in the same spot where the couch had been. I’ve been kicked to the curb by a man I thought was too dull for me, Josie thought. He dumped me before I could dump him. Can a woman die of chagrin?

Josie hadn’t wanted Stan, but now that their romance was over, she felt foolish and rejected. Rejected! By a man who thought discount shopping was a special night.

She wearily climbed the stairs to her mother’s flat, knocked lightly, and entered. Jane was snoring gently on the couch. Amelia was watching television with the sound turned down. Jane woke up when Josie opened her door.

“I brought you a treat,” she said. “Raspberry buttercream cupcakes.”

“Yay!” Amelia said, and took a bite.

Jane tried a polite nibble. “Not bad.”

“Mine are better,” Amelia said.

“They probably are,” Josie agreed. “You have your grandmother’s cooking skills. When you finish your cupcake, it’s bedtime.”

“How did your date with Gerbil go?” Jane asked.

“Jerry. It was okay.” Josie hoped she sounded noncommittal.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked.

“Nothing. Jerry is nice, but there’s no spark. I seem to have that effect on men.”

“I still don’t see why you don’t go out more with that nice Stan,” Jane said. “I love this raspberry icing.”