Murder Is A Piece Of Cake Part 23

Tuesday, October 30 It was all over for Rita, except for her arrest.

Josie's lunch with Phoebe Winstid at the Blue Rose Tearoom was a waste of time. But she'd already set up this scheme to politely interrogate George's mother.

I have to go through with this, Josie told herself. I can't waste Phoebe's time, too. At least I'll have a good lunch.

She arrived at the Blue Rose fifteen minutes early and talked to Rachel, the plump, rosy-cheeked hostess. "My friend Phoebe will be asking for me," Josie said. "Lunch is my treat. Please don't bring the check to our table. Here's my credit card. I'll settle the bill after she leaves."

"I'll take care of it for you," Rachel said. She seated Josie at a table by the window and brought tea in a Blue Willow pot. Josie poured herself a cup and studied the antique photo of a young woman stiffly posed in a long dark dress with leg-of-mutton sleeves. She stared solemnly from the wall across from her table.

Phoebe arrived precisely at noon. On the phone, she'd sounded too young to be George's mother. She looked that way, too. Josie guessed her age at about sixty, but she seemed no older than forty-five.

Phoebe was about Josie's height-five feet six-and slender. Rich brown hair framed her heart-shaped face. She dressed like a woman who'd once had money. Her black pantsuit was well cut but slightly shiny at the cuffs.

Josie introduced herself and a server brought a basket of cranberry scones and a tiered plate of salmon and cuc.u.mber sandwiches.

"It's so nice of you to share your lunch with me," Phoebe said.

"I'm happy to do it," Josie said.

"My son says I'm too young for tearooms, but I love them," Phoebe said. "Tea is so gracious, don't you think? This is a return to a gentler time."

Josie glanced at the young woman in the old photo on the wall. Her troubles had been over for more than a century, but Josie doubted that her sorrows, losses, and fears had been any gentler than Josie's.

"Maybe in retrospect," Josie said.

"My late husband, Walter, always said I romanticized the past," Phoebe said.

"When Walt was alive, I'd lunch here once a week with my girlfriends. Now that money's a little tight, I don't come here quite so often. Enough about me. Tell me about yourself. Are you married? Do you work?"

"I'm getting married the day after Thanksgiving," Josie said.

The tea and crustless sandwiches disappeared as Josie told Phoebe about her upcoming wedding at the Jewel Box, the reception, the flowers, and her fiance the doctor-everything except that the doctor was the notorious Ted Scottsmeyer.

"I've been rattling on too much about my wedding," Josie said.

"I asked you," Phoebe said. "I like hearing happy things. The last time I was here I was with my son, George. My son is a beer drinker, but he made the sacrifice for me."

"He sounds thoughtful," Josie said.

"He's the best," Phoebe said. "I'm so lucky. George is engaged, but he won't be getting married in St. Louis. He lives in Montana."

"He likes the great outdoors?" Josie said.

"He says Montana is amazing, but that's not why he moved there. He was trying to get away from a woman."

"Unlucky in love?" Josie asked.

"It wasn't love," Phoebe said. "He didn't even like Molly."

"Molly?" Josie said. "Why does that name seem familiar? What's her last name?"

"Molly Deaver," Phoebe said. "You can't turn on the TV without hearing her name lately. She was shot by the mother of a man she was stalking. Molly went to his place of business in a bridal dress and he didn't know anything about the wedding."

"That's right," Josie said. "Now I remember."

"Before she stalked that man, she latched onto my son. All George did was sell Molly some carpet. My son is a top salesman for Brenhoff Carpet and Flooring Corporation. They're a national chain with stores in forty-eight states."

Josie found Phoebe's maternal pride endearing.

"George was working at the Clayton store in St. Louis," Phoebe said, "and sold this Molly Deaver wall-to-wall for her living room. That's all he did. George never showed the slightest interest in her, but she started stalking my son. She turned up at his store, she watched him in the parking lot, even followed him to his apartment. He couldn't turn around without running into Molly Deaver.

"George had no interest in dating her, but I could see why she was attracted to him. My son is handsome, reliable, has a steady job, and he treats me well. You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his mother. The stalking got so bad, George couldn't even go to the supermarket without running into her."

"Did George get a restraining order?" Josie asked.

"He didn't want one," Phoebe said. "It would have been bad for his career. Molly told everyone they were engaged and then formally announced it in the paper. When George saw a chance to move to the Billings store in Montana, he jumped at it. I hated to see him go, but I understood.

"I hate to admit it, but he made the right decision. He's just been elected president of the National Carpeting and Floor Covering a.s.sociation. They have two thousand members."

The Brenhoff Web site said seventeen hundred, Josie thought, but a proud mom was allowed a little exaggeration.

"That's why George was back here this month," Phoebe said. "He was sworn in as president at the big convention in St. Louis. My son is a busy man, but he's not too important to take his mother to her favorite tearoom for lunch.

"When George and I were here, she sat right at that corner table."

"Molly?" Josie asked.

"No, the woman who killed her," Phoebe said. "Lenore something from Florida. Dramatic-looking woman. Liked being the center of attention. She was showing off her pistol in the tearoom. Pretty little thing. She showed off the pearl grips with her initials. She made quite an impression. When I saw her on TV again after she shot that crazy bride, I recognized her right away."

"Do you think Lenore did it?" Josie asked.

"I'm sure, and she did the world a favor," Phoebe said. "Don't believe what you see on TV. Channel Seven made that bride into a victim, but she was insane.

"I told my son I'd testify on Lenore's behalf, but George begged me not to. He wants to forget Molly ever happened.

"But I won't. I lost my son. George had to move to Montana to get away from her. Thanks to one demented woman, I lost my boy. He's living more than thirteen hundred miles away. I don't have the money to fly there, and it's a two- or three-day drive.

"George says the move to Montana turned out better than he hoped. That's where he met Renee, the woman he wants to marry. She'll make a good daughter-in-law."

"Now that Molly's dead, they could move back here," Josie said.

"I'd like that, but I don't think it will happen," Phoebe said. "Renee has her own career. She's the manager of a rental car agency there. Lot of tourists fly into Billings and rent cars to drive to Yellowstone National Park. Renee would have to give up a good job to move back here.

"If it hadn't been for that mental case, my boy would have met a nice St. Louis girl and settled down here to raise a family. And I'd be taking my grandbabies to the zoo, the Arch, and picking apples at Eckert's Orchard in the fall like all the other grandmas.

"Now that won't happen," Phoebe said. "She deprived me of my son and his future life. I'm glad she's dead."

Phoebe slammed down her teacup with such force, there was an audible clink on the saucer. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get carried away."

"You have good reason to be upset," Josie said. "It's nearly two o'clock. I have to pick up my daughter at school."

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Phoebe said.

Josie walked George's mother to the door of the restaurant. She watched Phoebe unlock her charcoal Chevy Impala, waved good-bye, then returned to pay the bill.

The lunch crowd was clearing out of the tearoom parking lot. Inside her car, Josie opened her cell phone to call Denise's Dreams for the good news. By now Denise would have fired Rita and the cops would have arrested the real killer. Then she could call Ted and tell him Molly's murderer had been arrested.

Time for Josie's dream, she thought as she dialed Denise's Dreams.

A worried, apologetic Denise answered the shop phone. "I'm sorry, Josie," she said. "Rita hasn't reported for work yet. I've called her every half hour since noon. I need a little more time."

"You have until three o'clock," Josie said. "Then I call the police."

"I'll keep trying," Denise said. "She's always so reliable. Maybe she's sick."

Josie was the one who felt sick. Rita knew they were on to her. She'd run.

Chapter 27.

Tuesday, October 30 "Josie, I don't know what's wrong," Denise said. "I keep calling and calling, but Rita doesn't answer her phone."

Josie called the shop owner as soon as she got home from school with Amelia. "I can't reach her," Denise said. "I'm worried she's sick."

"And I'm worried Rita skipped town," Josie said. "I gave you till three o'clock. Your time is up. An innocent woman is locked up while Rita goes free."

"There's no way Rita could know what we were planning," Denise said. She had a defensive edge.

"Really? Rita already figured out that Molly knew she was stealing from your shop," Josie said. "I'm calling the police."

"No! Please!" Denise sounded frantic. "Could you go by her apartment first? Just to see if she's okay? I'm really, really worried."

"You want me to go alone to an apartment where there's a killer?" Josie asked. "I saw that movie and didn't like the ending."

"You could take my pepper spray," Denise said.

"I have my own," Josie said. "I'm not going to Rita's apartment alone."

"You don't have to sound so mean," Denise said. "I'd go with you, but I can't leave the shop. I have a customer coming at three thirty. A real bride, not a pretend one who wastes my time and doesn't buy anything."

"I caught your shoplifter," Josie said, trying to tamp down her anger. "I didn't waste your time. I saved your business."

"I know you did, but unless I sell enough to cover Rita's losses, I won't survive," Denise said. Her irritating whine drilled into Josie's ear.

"What if she slipped in the shower and she's lying there hurt?" Denise said. "Anyway, you think she ran away. If you're right, she won't even be home."

I want this over, Josie thought. The longer Denise dithers, the farther Rita can run.

Denise took Josie's hesitation as a sign she was wavering. "Good," she said. "Rita lives in apartment 103. Second building on the right on that little street off Southwest Avenue in Rock Road Village. Her apartment is on the first floor and has big sliding doors. You might be able to see if she's safe without going inside."

I'll take one look and if Rita's at home, I'm calling the police myself, Josie thought. To h.e.l.l with Denise's precious store. I'll ask Mom to go with me. She can stay in the car and call 911 if I need help.

"Then you'll do it?" Denise asked, her voice shrill with hope.

"Only if my friend is available to go with me. I'll ask her. If she says no, I'm calling the police."

Jane was home. "I'll go with you, Josie," she said. "I need to get out. What's this about?"

"This trip may help us find Molly Deaver's killer," Josie said. "I'll tell you in the car."

Josie stopped by Amelia's room where her daughter was texting with lightning-fast thumbs. "Grandma and I will be gone about an hour," Josie said. "I'm trusting you to stay home alone again."

Amelia jumped up. "I will! I'll be good."

"I hope so," Josie said, running out the door.

On the short drive over, she gave her mother a sanitized version of Rita's role: "She's been stealing from the shop and selling the items on eBay," Josie said. "Molly figured it out. She wanted to tell Denise the next day, but Rita found out and shot her with Lenore's pistol."

"Terrible," Jane said. "But this Rita must be clever. She framed Lenore and got away with murder."

"She's not getting away with anything," Josie said.

"Do you think she has a gun?" Jane asked.

"I think she's skipped town," Josie said. "Molly's murder weapon was left at the scene, remember?"

"I forgot," Jane said. "So much is going on. We won't have to take Rita into custody, will we?"

"No, I just want to make sure she's home and then I'll call the police."

"Is this the place?" Jane asked, wrinkling her nose. "It was so pretty when it was built. But that was in 1968."

"It's not bad," Josie said. But she noticed the mansard roof was missing a few shingles and the doors could use fresh paint. She thought the climber roses on the entrance archway would appeal to Rita's romantic side.

She turned into the parking lot and saw a shiny green Kia in spot 103. Rita was home, Josie decided. At least her car was.

"I'll check the front and back doors, Mom," Josie said. "Wait in the car. If I'm not back in five minutes, call 911."

"You are not giving your mother orders," Jane said. "I'm going with you."

"Mom, you can't. What if someone attacks us?"