Dying in Style (11 page)

“Omigod,” Josie said. “Do you think the housekeeper is right?”

“Housekeepers are always right,” Alyce said. “Do you realize if the FBI finds radioactive contamination, they may have to raze our whole subdivision?”

“Oh my God.” Josie said it much slower now.

Alyce didn’t seem especially worried that her house might glow in the dark or be razed to rubble. Maybe she would enjoy the challenge of redecorating. What colors went with a nuclear winter?

“My husband is threatening a zillion lawsuits,” Alyce said. “This subdivision is crawling with lawyers. Nobody knows who to sue yet, but somebody will pay and it won’t be us.”

“I can see why Serge would be murdered, but why kill Danessa?” Josie said. “She wasn’t home. She was at her store. Has your housekeeper heard anything about that?”

“This is the best part,” Alyce said. “Mrs. Perkins says she was fixing the investigators coffee in the kitchen, and she heard that the FBI thinks Danessa may have been bumped off because she knew too much about Serge’s smuggling. Or because he was using her store to import his nuclear weapons materials. You know, hiding the contraband in the boxes of purses. Who takes a shipment of high-priced purses seriously?”

“Oh, good,” Josie said. “That’s terrific news. Because the cops think I killed her.”

There was a long silence.

“Hello?” Josie said.

“I think you’d better come out here right now and explain yourself,” Alyce said. “I’ll make brunch.”

Chapter 10

Someday Josie would understand this thing St. Louis suburban women had for brunch. The richer they were, the more elaborate the brunch.

Josie was sure if the end of the world was announced tomorrow, supermarkets would be stripped of eggs, coffee cake and fresh fruit, as suburban women fought to fix their final brunch.

Brunch had replaced chicken soup for comfort. It covered any social event from baby showers to funerals. When Josie told her best friend she was a murder suspect, Alyce’s first reaction was to prepare brunch.

Josie didn’t find salvation in scrambled eggs. What’s the natural Maplewood response to personal disaster? she wondered. We’re more city than suburb, and we’re certainly not rich. In Maplewood, we’d get drunk.

Except in recent years, Maplewood had become surprisingly trendy. The new people would take Prozac. I’d still get drunk, Josie decided. My neighborhood got fashionable, but I didn’t.

Josie felt a flicker of hope after her talk with Alyce. If Serge was selling nuclear weapons materials, Josie was off the hook. He was probably killed by a terrorist and Danessa was unlucky enough to die with him.

At the top of the hour, Josie skipped through the radio stations in her car, listening for the local news, hoping to hear something about Danessa and Serge.

Finally, an announcer said, “And on the Power Couple Murders, the medical examiner has released the cause of death. Serge Orloff died from an overdose of warfarin, commonly known as rat poison. Police found the poison in his palatial West County home.”

That was the second time the media had called the house palatial, Josie thought. It did look big.

“His business partner and longtime companion, Danessa Celedine, was found strangled at her store in Plaza Venetia.”

Josie nearly ran the car into a ditch. “Omigod, omigod, omigod,” she said.

No wonder the handsome homicide cop had raised his eyebrow when Josie said her mother would strangle her if she didn’t bring home a picture of Danessa.

“Omigod, omigod, omigod.” She must have sounded guilty as hell. Or criminally stupid. Josie felt sick to her stomach again. She rolled down the car window, just in case.

No newscast mentioned that Serge was suspected of selling nuclear arms. That story should have been all over the headlines. Didn’t the press know? Could the government hush it up for national security reasons?

Or did Alyce have it wrong? She was repeating something one housekeeper told another. Josie was sure the story grew more inaccurate with each telling. Maybe by the time it got to Alyce, crime-scene techs had morphed into government agents, plainclothes police detectives had become FBI agents and ordinary evidence vans were “weird” vehicles.

All my hope is gone, Josie thought. If Serge didn’t sell nuclear materials, then the suspicion spotlight swings back to me. I’m a prime suspect.

Josie was so upset she had trouble navigating the twisty country roads close to Alyce’s house. It was lonely out here, nothing but hills, woods and private drives. Barren rocks jutted out of the hillsides. Small animals ran in front of her car.

Her friend Alyce thought the lonesome landscape was a bucolic paradise. She was always telling Josie about the wildlife that shyly ventured into her yard. Alyce saw a doe and two “darling” fawns. The week before that, it was a fox with her kits. Josie never saw anything more exotic than squashed roadkill.

Alyce was right about one thing: Today there was a lot of official-looking activity. The Estates at Wood Winds was a gated community, but the guard usually waved Josie through. This time, he stopped her, asked to see her driver’s license and called Alyce to confirm her visit.

One entire road was blocked off with yellow crime-scene tape, but it was at the crest of a wooded hill. Josie couldn’t see anything beyond the police car posted by the tape. The road to Alyce’s house was open. Josie pulled into the driveway of the Tudor mansion, which was between a minicastle and a semi-demi-Italian palace. She gave her three-knock signal on the side door and entered.

Josie was always momentarily stunned by the luxury of Alyce’s house. Her friend had white silk couches—with a one-year-old baby—and not a sticky handprint on the cushions. There were fresh white roses in crystal vases, gorgeous rugs in muted grays and blues, sensuous piles of pillows. The tall windows were free of little finger smudges. No toys or games marred the perfection.

Alyce’s voice floated downstairs. “Come on in, Josie. The food’s in the kitchen. Serve yourself. I’m putting the baby down for his nap. It’s the nanny’s morning off.”

Josie found fluffy scrambled eggs on a warmer, crisp bacon on a special drainer from Williams-Sonoma and coffee in a machine so complicated she’d need an engineering degree to operate it. Alyce had set out bowls of fresh fruit, including a huge mound of raspberries, which cost more than marijuana in Maplewood.

“The juice is in the fridge,” Alyce called. “It’s fresh squeezed.”

Where was the refrigerator? Josie wondered. She stood in the kitchen and looked around, ashamed to ask. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Why was a fridge so hard to find?

At her house the refrigerator was a big white box with GE on the front. But Alyce’s kitchen was paneled in linen-fold oak, like an English library. Josie didn’t see any handles sticking out on the oak panels.

She found a handhold buried in a slab of oak and tried to open it. It swung out to reveal a well-stocked pantry. Josie broke a nail trying to open the next hunk of paneling. Nothing there. The third time, she found the fridge. She was suddenly hungry, and fixed herself a generous breakfast.

“Alyce, you’re the perfect hostess,” Josie called up the stairs. “You think of every comfort.”

With that, three strapping young men came through the side door. Josie nearly dropped her fork. Wow, Alyce really did think of everything.

“We’re here to fix the bathroom tile grout,” the handsomest of the three said, dashing Josie’s hopes. They all had wedding rings. Naturally.

After the men disappeared into a guestroom bath, Alyce came down the stairs. Josie didn’t hear her. Alyce was doing that floating thing again. Josie wondered how she did that. Where did a woman learn to walk soundlessly, buy bacon drainers and find invisible refrigerators?

“Justin is asleep,” Alyce said. “With any luck, he’ll stay out for the next hour or so and we can talk.” She put a spoonful of eggs on her plate and counted out ten raspberries, and Josie knew her friend was tormenting herself with another diet.

“The guard called when you arrived. Did you have trouble at the gate?” Alyce asked.

“Not really,” Josie said. “But this is the most security I’ve ever seen here.”

“It’s exciting.” Alyce’s eyes were shining and her fair skin was pinker than usual. “I’ve had two men in suits come by to talk to me. They asked me all sorts of questions about Serge and Danessa.”

“Like what?” Josie helped herself to more eggs and bacon. No point in throwing them out. She added some raspberries, too, to make her plate look healthier.

“Questions like, Did I ever see any unusual activity? Notice any strangers? Did any visitors seem foreign or out of the ordinary? Were there any cars or trucks late at night?”

No wonder Alyce was excited. “This is classic spy novel stuff,” Josie said. “I’m surprised they didn’t ask if you saw mysterious strangers hauling heavy boxes on moonless nights. What did you see?”

“Nothing exciting,” Alyce said. “The story of my life. Just lots of TV and newspaper reporters getting sound bites from Serge or Danessa. We knew all the media cars and vans. Serge always had a pronouncement on something.”

“Yeah, I got in a fight with Mom over the American medical system because of Serge,” Josie said.

“I got in a fight with Jake over the American legal system because of Serge,” Alyce said.

They both laughed. Josie was feeling better. Another spoonful of eggs should help, she decided. She cut herself a generous slab of homemade coffeecake so Alyce wouldn’t feel unappreciated.

“Yum. This cake is good,” Josie said. “What was the power couple like?”

“I met them at a few parties, mostly around the holidays. Danessa made a big fuss over Jake because he was an important lawyer, but she ignored me. I was just a housewife. No, wait. She didn’t totally ignore me. Danessa made a bitchy remark about my dress at the Wood Winds Labor Day dance. She asked me if I’d made it myself. Jake yelled at me later for not spending enough money on my clothes. Said it made him look bad.”

“What about Serge?” Josie said.

“He kissed my hand passionately.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not kidding,” Alyce said. “It was romantic. Sort of European. That’s when I noticed how big his hand was. Serge really came on to me, even if my dress did look homemade. Jake didn’t notice. I guess he didn’t think another man could be interested in me. It’s been a long time since a man looked at me that way.”

Alyce sounded so wistful. Josie felt sad, even though her love life wasn’t any better. She’d had one kiss in a coffeehouse and a date with a guy who wore a pocket protector.

Alyce gave a sweet smile. “Well, I can’t complain. I’m luckier than most women. I never have to worry about money, I have my beautiful baby boy and I’ve got mystery shopping with you for excitement.”

Alyce was the perfect partner when Josie had to shop a store more than once. Nobody ever noticed two housewives. Josie thought there was something sad about that, too. Sadder still, Alyce did it for free. It was her idea of fun.

“Do you think any women really fell into bed with Serge?” Josie said.

“All the time,” Alyce said. “Amy the Slut bragged about her conquest of Serge at tennis.”

“Before or after Danessa bitch-slapped her?”

“Both. Amy never shut up about going to bed with him. I think it was her revenge. She was angry at Danessa. The way Danessa went after her at the club had to be humiliating.”

“What happened?” Josie said. “I’ve never heard the full story.”

“Amy was holding court in the bar—big surprise—with some male admirers, but there were plenty of other witnesses. The club’s Friday lobster supper always draws a crowd. One of the barflies came onto Amy, and she said something like, ‘You’d better be good. I’ve just been with Serge. You have a lot to measure up to.’ Everyone heard her. She gets loud when she’s had a few. Drinks, I mean, not men.

“She didn’t see that Danessa had walked into the bar. Danessa grabbed Amy by the hair, slapped her twice across the face, and threw her against the bar.

“ ‘You stupid slut,’ Danessa said. ‘You’re just another public convenience, like a toilet.’ ”

“Ouch,” Josie said.

“ A lot of wronged wives thought it served Amy right. She couldn’t miss the smiles on their faces.”

“Did I ever meet Amy?” Josie said.

“She lives in the Italian palace up the road,” Alyce said. “You met her at my New Year’s Eve party. She wore those tight velvet pants and draped herself all over Noreen’s husband.”

“Oh, yeah. I think I surprised them together in the guest bathroom,” Josie said.

“I think Amy accidentally on purpose forgot to lock the door. She lives for those little surprises. Amy would have loved to take a man away from the famous Danessa. The way I heard it, Serge was more than another pair of boots under Amy’s bed. She had a bit of a thing for him. Can’t blame her for that. He was so manly.”

Alyce’s voice seemed soft as a sigh with that last sentence. Did her friend have a thing for Serge? Josie looked at Alyce carefully. Nope. Those eyes were too innocent, Josie decided. Alyce had had a flirtation maybe, but not an affair. Serge had made her feel like a desirable woman, instead of an overweight wife. If that was Serge’s secret technique, he must have been the West County Casanova.

“Amy’s too easy,” Josie said. “Did Serge have any real conquests?”

“Definitely,” Alyce said. “That man had a roving eye. I’ll tell you who I suspect, though I can’t prove it. Kate, my neighbor to the east, turned red whenever Serge’s name was mentioned after the subdivision’s fall mixer. Her house is up for sale now. It’s right next to Serge’s.

“Poor Kate would be easy prey for Serge. Her surgeon husband is such a bastard. Mr. Catholic Family Doctor. He bragged in some newspaper that he and his wife never use birth control. Easy for him. He goes off to the hospital seven days a week and leaves her stuck home with two sets of twins.”

Josie was surprised by Alyce’s bitterness.

“But that’s enough about the goings-on here,” Alyce said. “Tell me everything that’s been happening to you.”

Josie did.

“You need a lawyer,” Alyce said when Josie finished.