Murder Is A Piece Of Cake Part 13

"Of course you do," Gretchen said.

Josie felt guilty making Gretchen do all that work for nothing. She'd been so protective and sweet. Josie liked her arrangement and wished she really could have it for her wedding reception, but even at Gretchen's reasonable prices, it was too expensive.

I'll make it up to you, Gretchen, she thought. I'll give you a glowing report and the new wedding Web site will bring you bigger and better customers than me.

"Here's your contract," Gretchen said.

It called for arrangement number 548, with five red dahlias, stems twenty-four to twenty-eight inches long, heads three to four and a half inches in diameter, four White Wedding zinnias, stems twelve to fourteen inches long, with four-to-five-inch-wide double blooms, and six white tea lights on a silver metal S-stand.

"White Wedding is the name of the zinnia?" Josie asked.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" Gretchen said. "The right look and the right name."

"You've listed the number of blooms," Josie said, "along with the stem length and bloom width."

"Of course, dear. Shortchanging the flowers in a centerpiece is one of the oldest scams in the business. It makes me ashamed of my profession. A bride meets with a florist, who shows her a photo of the decorations and offers a price. She signs a contract, and then at the reception finds out the florist put a lot more flowers into the photo sample. She's been shorted. It's a sneaky trick and I won't stand for it. I spell everything out."

"I can't thank you enough," Josie said. "Now I have to go see my mother-in-law."

She didn't add "in jail."

Chapter 15.

Thursday, October 25 How do you dress when you have a date with your fiance to see his mother in jail? Josie wondered. Maybe I should get a tattoo and a tube top. Instead, she chose Ted's favorite outfit-black pencil skirt, cobalt blue blouse, and high heels.

He whistled when she answered her door.

"You're the best-looking thing I've seen all day," he said, and wrapped his arms around her. Josie felt that lovely flutter she always had with Ted.

"You see cats and dogs," she said, sinking into his chest. "But I'll take that as a compliment."

He returned her kiss, hot and s.e.xy.

"Mm. You have nice lips," she said.

"You, too," he said. This kiss lasted longer and he unb.u.t.toned her top b.u.t.ton.

She rubbed her spike heel along his leg. "You smell like coffee and wood smoke."

Another b.u.t.ton undone. "I wish we could stay here all evening," he whispered.

She licked his earlobe. "Soon," Josie said. Unless your mother derails our wedding, she thought.

"Mom! I forgot. We're going to miss the seven o'clock visiting hour unless we leave now," Ted said.

Lenore's name worked better than a cold shower. Josie b.u.t.toned her blouse, straightened her skirt, and picked up her purse.

"Where's Amelia?" Ted asked.

Did I unb.u.t.ton Ted's shirt? Josie wondered, slightly dazed.

"Upstairs with Mom," she said. "They're eating tuna ca.s.serole. She'll save some for you. What's the latest on your mother?" That question killed her last lingering bit of pa.s.sion.

"Nothing good," Ted said. "I talked with Whit. Mom's being arraigned tomorrow at ten. The charges are first-degree murder."

Josie winced. Missouri was a death-penalty state, but Ted didn't need that reminder. "I'm sorry. I'll be in court with you then," she said.

"No, you won't," Ted said.

"I want to."

"And I appreciate the offer. But Mom wouldn't want you to see her like that. She's a proud woman. Please, Josie. Don't be there. I mean it."

Josie could tell he did. "Have you talked to her lawyer?"

"My stepfather did. Shelford Clark says there's no chance of bail because Mom's charged with murder and the prosecutor says she was fleeing the state. The murder weapon was definitely Lenore's."

"But her purse was missing," Josie said.

"Misplaced, according to the prosecutor. The waitress found it and Mom announced to the entire Blue Rose Tearoom that nothing was missing. The waitress says she'll testify."

"Lenore should have given her a reward," Josie said.

"Wouldn't make any difference," Ted said. "The police have twenty other names. Mom must have made quite an impression there. The police found her fingerprints on the bullets and her partial print on the murder weapon."

"Where did the police get her prints?" Josie asked.

"From her d.a.m.ned concealed carry permit," Ted said. She'd never heard him criticize his mother before. "She had to brag about that gun on TV."

"Her lawyer could explain the prints," Josie said.

"What about the security video?" Ted said.

"I thought the clinic's camera wasn't working," Josie said.

"A house two doors down has one. Its outdoor camera caught a dark Chevy Impala approaching the clinic at 6:12, then go flying by in the other direction at 6:21. Lenore rented a navy blue Chevy Impala."

"Is she the Impala's driver?" Josie asked.

"No," Ted said. "You can't really identify who the driver is. You can see a shape behind the wheel, but it could be a woman or a man. Can't see the license plate, either. But the car fits with the time of death and Lenore can't account for two hours after she left the hotel. She says she got lost going to the airport. The police say she made a detour to Rock Road Village and killed Molly, then became a fugitive. Mom says she needed to fly home two days early because Whit broke his ankle."

"Did Lenore leave you a message that she was rushing home?" Josie asked.

"No," Ted said. "Mom says she was going to call me from the airport but never got a chance. The police think that's another sign of her guilt. So is flying commercial for the first time since she married Whit. It doesn't help that she threatened Molly with a gun and it was on TV."

Running endlessly, Josie thought. And it had gone viral on YouTube. No point in saying that, either. Ted was miserable enough. She stared at the lights of downtown Clayton, a concrete canyon in St. Louis County. The county jail looked like another office tower-except its criminals had been caught.

"I didn't tell you the best part," Ted said as he pulled into a parking garage near the jail. "Lenore had a rolling suitcase when she was taken into custody in the TSA line. The police got a warrant and opened it. Guess what they found?"

"Clothes?" Josie said hopefully.

"The suit she wore at the clinic," Ted said. "Still in the dry cleaner's bag with a note that the cleaners couldn't get the stain out."

"What stain?" Josie said, her heart sinking.

"Blood. Molly's blood. Remember when she attacked me with the scalpel?"

"Not likely to forget that," Josie said.

The bizarre chain reaction replayed in her mind: Bridezilla trying to drag Ted off to the minister. Bella jumping out of her basket and biting Marmalade. Ted's cat swatting Bella, and Molly swooping in to save her dog and slapping Ted. That was when Marmalade scratched Molly and she started bleeding.

She wished she could wipe away the image of herself, frozen in place.

"Your mother stepped in and took the scalpel out of Molly's hand," Josie said. "That's when she got the blood on her suit."

"That's what Mom told them," Ted said. "The police didn't have enough for DNA testing, but they can show it's Molly's blood type."

"But they can see what happened at the clinic," Josie said. "Channel Seven has it on tape."

"The prosecuting attorney issued a subpoena for it. Channel Seven says it's station policy to erase all tape except what's used in the actual shows. They claim they don't have room to store all that tape."

"Do you think that's true?" Josie asked.

"The judge believed them," Ted said. He eased the Mustang into a parking spot. They joined the line for the jail's metal detectors. Some visitors were tired workers finishing a long day. Others were swaggering young men, flirty young women, and a scattering of children.

To Josie, the air was charged with rage and weariness. She and Ted stowed their cell phones and Josie's purse in a locker.

Lenore sat in a booth behind a plastic gla.s.s screen. Josie tried to hide her shock. Her mother-in-law's complexion was drained by the dull beige scrubs. Her face looked different, too. Josie realized Lenore wasn't wearing makeup-but her hair looked perfect.

Josie forced herself to smile and said, "Lenore, how are you?"

"Stuck in this h.e.l.lhole," Lenore hissed. "Surrounded by hicks."

"Mom, please. Your voice carries," Ted said. "You don't want to upset people."

"Oh, I'm not talking about the inmates, Ted. I get along fine with the girls. They know all about me. Call me the Pistol-Packing Mama. Isn't that a hoot? We have so much in common."

"You do?" Josie said.

"Tabitha-she's the one at the end talking to the older gentleman-has been charged with shooting her boyfriend. But the police arrested the wrong woman. Just like me. And Lizzie-I call her Liz, because she's a distinguished-looking young person-didn't mean to shoot her man. He came in drunk at three a.m. and she mistook him for a burglar."

"Right," Ted said.

"She's trying to make something of herself," Lenore said. "She's been to beauty college and she worked wonders with my hair. I would have paid two hundred dollars for this in Boca." She patted her hair.

"Aren't you worried about the murder charge?" Josie asked.

"No, I'm innocent and I have a good lawyer," she said, and made a brushing motion with her hand as if she could flick away a first-degree murder charge. "Well, enough about me. Let's get down to business. Josie, did you bring your wedding plan notebook?"

"I'm not allowed to bring it inside here," Josie said. "Jail rules."

"Then fax a copy to my attorney," Lenore said. "He can bring in the paper. I'll convey my instructions through him."

"It's not necessary," Josie said. "Ted and I have everything planned."

"Not everything," Lenore said, and narrowed her eyes at Ted. "I want to know why you didn't invite your brother, Richard, to be in your wedding."

Josie braced herself. She knew this fight was coming and Ted had promised to handle it.

"Because I can't trust d.i.c.k, Mom," Ted said.

"His name is Richard, not d.i.c.k," Lenore said. "He was named for your grandfather."

"Grandfather would have been ashamed of his namesake's stupid practical jokes. d.i.c.k started doing this"-Ted stopped and searched for a word-"nonsense at age eight when he short-sheeted my bed."

"Ted, you're such a grouch, darling," Lenore said. "Even when you were a little boy."

"You thought he was cute, Mom. Every night was a misery-ice cubes in my pillows. Pies in the sheets. He never stopped. On his last visit here, he superglued a tennis ball to my dog's paw. That was the last straw."

"And you value a dog over your own brother?" Lenore asked.

"My dog is smarter-and kinder," Ted said. "I haven't spoken to my idiot brother since."

"It was a prank gone wrong," Lenore said.

"You make excuses for him, Mom," Ted said. "d.i.c.k-"

"Richard," Lenore corrected.

"Has been fired from ten jobs for his so-called pranks," Ted said. "And Whit got him most of those. Last time, d.i.c.k-"

"Richard," Lenore said.

"Put the manager's stapler and pen set in Jell-O."

"He saw that on The Office. Everyone thought it was hilarious. His employer had no sense of humor."

"How funny was it when he Saran Wrapped Whit's car and he was nearly late for surgery?"

"We spoke to him about that, dear."