twenty-seven

After Jose had been loaded into Francine’s car and Jonathan and Marcy had driven it through the gauntlet of reporters, the tension eased but the activity picked up. They didn’t have much time to get things ready for the event. Mary Ruth finished off the calamari puff pastry with mango chili sauce while Joy videotaped it, then she moved onto the beer batter version.

In the great room, Francine finished up the buffet and helped set the tables. “I’ve been thinking about your comment on mixed martial arts,” she told Charlotte.

“On Iron Chef ? It’d be fun to watch, wouldn’t it? I’d bet on Chef Morimoto. He probably knows karate.” Charlotte counted the number of places they’d set at the three tables.

“That’s not what I meant. I was thinking about the way Friederich died. Who would know how to do a blood choke? It would have to be someone who was familiar with self-defense.”

“Not necessarily. I thought about that after I had my talk with Jud. A blood choke is a sleeper hold. They use those all the time in pro-wrestling matches. So anyone who’s a wrestling fan—and who isn’t?—would be familiar with how it’s done.”

“Really? So familiar that they could lock a grown man expertly in a hold and keep it applied until he was dead?”

“I suppose you have a point.”

“Do any of our neighbors have that kind of experience?”

Charlotte mused. “The more and more I think about it, the less and less it feels like any of our neighbors could have done it. On the other hand, who couldn’t conceive of this plot? It’s not like I’m the only one who reads thrillers. And who needs books? This would be rejected as tame for any of those forensic crime dramas on TV.” She snorted. “In fact, this could have come out of a comedy like Desperate Housewives.”

“Didn’t Jake Maehler wrestle in high school?”

“But that’s a lot different than pro wrestling.”

Francine shut her eyes and tried to remember back to when her oldest son Craig wrestled. “I don’t know that it’s so different. A cradle hold is sort of like a submission hold, and it’s legal. They wouldn’t permit a dangerous one like a sleeper, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the boys fooled around with it.”

Charlotte pulled Francine close. “Speaking of submission, have you told Mary Ruth yet about the appointment with Jake’s trainer, or are you still planning to spring it on her?”

“I’m going with the surprise. This better work. I don’t have another idea.”

“Good thing all of us are here to help. Listen, maybe you should find out from Brady if Jake knows how to slap someone in a sleeper hold.”

“I’m sure that will come up in regular conversation,” she said as they went back into the kitchen to see how they could help.

Jonathan and Marcy returned right before the guests started to arrive. Jose, his head bandaged like a mummy, was with them, still dazed. Jonathan parked him on a couch. Francine’s eyes widened.

“Why is he still here?”

“It appears someone promised him he could stay for lunch if he participated in the competition.”

“Be glad he’s agreed to do that and not press charges,” Marcy argued. “Mary Ruth may have done it, but it’s your house and your frying pan. You could get pulled into civil lawsuit.”

Mary Ruth came out of the kitchen. She spotted Jose propped up against a couch pillow. “Jose!” she said. Though she was clearly delighted to see him, he held the pillow out to prevent any aggressive moves. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “All is forgiven! The beer battered calamari you were working on turned out to be excellent. Want a taste?” She gently helped him up and encouraged him into the kitchen. His gait was slow but they got there. She called back to the rest of them. “Everyone’s invited for samples. Come help yourselves.”

The studio camera was gone, and Joy, gloved, was working Mary Ruth’s coleslaw dressing with her hands into a mixture of shredded cabbage, red cabbage, and carrots. She turned the stainless steel bowl and continued tossing. “The calamari is to die for. You all have to try them.”

“I love the brownies,” Charlotte said. She picked up several.

“I’m sure the rest of the group would love the brownies, too, but I saw you finger the pile. Did you wash your hands?” Mary Ruth dipped a beer battered calamari into the mango chili sauce and handed it to Jose.

Charlotte flashed a bottle of hand sanitizer she had in her pocket. “I did. And I’m just sugaring up for the inquisition. Once the neighbors get here, this is going to take a lot of energy.”

“I don’t think inquisition is the right word,” said a male voice. The women all turned. Jud stood at the entrance to the kitchen, his arms folded. “Jonathan let me in,” he said.

A grin broke out on Charlotte’s chocolate-smeared face. “Jud! Anything new in the investigation?”

“Nothing I’m at liberty to reveal.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

Francine took her by the arm. “We’re not here to question him, dear. We’re here to quietly find out what the neighbors know.”

“Help yourself to samples,” said Mary Ruth. “We’re testing them before the guests arrive.”

“Thank you, but I’ll have some when you start serving. My wife reminds me I need to watch my weight.”

Francine thought his comment was more polite than true, since the police uniform showed off his still athletic physique. Jud didn’t swagger, but he did project a self-confidence that made people relax in his presence. Except Jose. Jose took one look at Jud and slinked out of the kitchen.

“Who’s the guy with the bandaged head?” Jud asked Francine.

She sighed. “It’s a long story. He won’t be here that long. He’s leaving after we serve lunch.”

“By the way, I thought you handled the press well this morning. I saw it on the news before I got here.”

The doorbell rang. When Francine went to answer it, she saw that Jose had returned to his semi-comatose position on the couch. Before she reached the door, it opened and Alice walked in. “It’s just me.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Francine said, giving her a hug. “I was worried you’d decided not to come.”

“Larry is so depressed I can’t stand to be around him anymore. I knew this would be way more fun.” She studied Jose sitting on the couch. “Who’s he?”

“Part of the way more fun.”

Alice gave her a questioning look, but Francine didn’t explain herself. The women went into the kitchen.

Jonathan took over door duties so Francine could mingle. More and more neighbors came. The biggest surprise was that Darla, clad in an outfit reminiscent of a Hooters waitress, arrived with her ex-husband Vince. Jonathan shook their hands and called Francine over.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Darla told them. “Vince wanted to come along. He’s been following the news in the papers and wanted to see all of you again.”

“How nice.” They shook hands with Vince. It had been a good ten or twelve years since the divorce, but age had been kind to him. He looked the same as when Darla had first thrown him over for a cast of successive boyfriends. His hairline had receded a little, but he had the same dark hair, wide smile, and bedroom eyes that had made the neighborhood women wonder what she was thinking in the first place when she divorced him.

The house filled with loud conversation. All twenty-five neighbors who’d confirmed their attendance showed as well as a few others, like Vince. Alice said she’d prefer to help with the food instead of chatting, so that left the rest to mingle.

Francine managed to question about fifteen of the neighbors, many of whom she discovered had already been questioned by Charlotte. She found herself dodging more questions about skinny-dipping than getting any information, though. She looked up and saw that Charlotte had Vince cornered and was chatting him up.

“Say what you will about Darla,” Charlotte told her as they caught up with each other over calamari appetizers, “but she knows how to pick up guys. Vince is still a hottie.”

Francine disagreed. “Her other boyfriends were never in the same league as Vince.”

“Not true. Darla would never date someone who wasn’t good-looking. Her other boyfriends may not have been as robust, but they were all distinguished. And older.”

“And with money.”

Charlotte laughed, then got serious. “Did you know Vince worked with Friederich at Excalibur Racing?”

“No.”

“He said he only knew Friederich through work, though. He wasn’t forthcoming about much else. I did ask about Sara and got around to the topic of her boyfriends. That put him off. He said she was too young to be dating anyone seriously, and then he found someone else to talk to.”

“I’m not getting anywhere either. If a neighbor was involved in killing Friederich, I’m not sure who it could be. They all seem clueless.”

The two split up again. Francine focused on the couple who lived behind Alice and Larry. Those who saw Charlotte coming flocked elsewhere. Francine presumed they either had already been questioned by her or warned by those who had. There were three exceptions, however—Darla Baggesen in her low-cut top and an elderly couple who knew Francine was a former nurse and always wanted to talk about their latest ailments.

So when Charlotte dragged Darla over and the elderly couple followed, Francine considered bolting but it was too late.

“You’ve got to hear this,” Charlotte said.

The older man’s head swung in toward Darla. He was practically staring into the V-neck that barely covered Darla’s ample breasts.

“Hear what?” Francine asked politely.

“Darla thinks the police have it all backwards. She says they’ve become obsessed with what Friederich was hiding from Larry.”

Darla said, “I’m just making the observation that Friederich must have known something about Larry, something Larry didn’t want known. I mean, he wasn’t paying rent, and Larry threatened half a year ago to throw him out. So Larry must have been afraid to push Friederich’s buttons. Why?”

“Isn’t that a great observation?” Charlotte asked.

Before Francine could answer, the elderly man said, “Are those things real?”

The three women looked at him. His leering at Darla’s breasts left no doubt as to what he was asking about.

She gave a short laugh and jiggled her torso. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She winked at him.

The man’s wife yanked him toward the buffet table.

Francine shook her head at the retreating couple. “Larry said he was afraid he couldn’t get another renter in this economy and hoped to work it out with Friederich.”

“Really?” Darla said skeptically. “Well, I think from all the rumors going around that Larry has no problem lying, even to Alice. So if the police focused more on what Friederich had learned about Larry that kept him in that building when he wasn’t paying rent, they’d improve their chances.”

“Improve their chances of proving Larry is guilty of murder?” Francine’s mouth tightened. “Is that what you believe?”

“He doesn’t have an alibi for the night Friederich was killed. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck …” She stepped away.

No doubt in pursuit of someone else she can shake her tatas at, thought Francine.

“How did Darla know Friederich wasn’t paying rent?” Charlotte asked.

“How does Darla know anything?”

“I suppose it could be that she attracts gossip like she attracts men. She doesn’t have to work at it very hard.”

Darla approached Jose on the couch. He saw her coming and stood—shakily, but he stood. He seemed very formal around her. “I don’t know,” Francine said, “I think she does work at it. Does Jose know Darla?”

“Maybe she’s a frequent customer at El Burrito Loco. Or maybe she hires them to cater events. They’re cheaper than Mary Ruth if all you want is Mexican.”

“Do you think Darla has a valid point?”

“Who knows? She also suspects Jake Maehler.”

“So do we.”

“Which reminds me that we need to check his website to see if I’m right about the Molson being in that one photo.”

A shrill whistle sounded at that moment. Startled, they all turned to the doors that led into the kitchen.

Joy stood in front of them on a step ladder. She held out her arms like she was getting ready to conduct an orchestra. “Sorry for the whistle, but it was hard to get your attention with all the noise. Thank you all for coming. As you know, Francine McNamara is hosting this tasting for our very good friend, Mary Ruth Burrows, who I know you will all agree if you don’t already know, is a wonderful chef and should be a bigger part of the racing industry. We hope you will support her getting more of this business. Now, let’s eat!”

The crowd surged toward the buffet.

“Let’s use the restroom first,” Francine said, pulling Charlotte out of the way. “The one upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” She indicated her cane.

“I have my reasons. And we all know you use that cane when it suits your purposes more than because of your knee.”

Charlotte had a twinkle in her eye, but she admitted nothing. “I’ll come with you, but all I need to do is wash my hands. I went earlier when Andrew Starling farted loudly and tried to cover it up by acting like his wife had done it. She slapped him, and I nearly peed my pants trying to keep from laughing. So I headed as fast as I could to the ladies’ room.”

Upstairs, Francine headed for Jonathan’s office.

“Ah,” said Charlotte. “You have an ulterior motive.”

“Precisely. You said you wanted to check Jake’s website. We might as well do that while the others go through the line.”

Francine called it up on the computer, located the beach photo with the beer, and then kept clicking to enlarge the area where the beer bottle was. Before they could read the label, the photo became distorted.

“Too bad the label’s not turned toward us so we can see it dead-on,” Charlotte said, “but I think enough is there to establish it’s a Molson.”

“I disagree. The photo’s so muddled there’s no way to be certain.”

“You sound like you don’t want it to be Jake Maehler. We need to find a reason someone other than Larry wanted this guy dead, remember?”

“I remember. This just seems tenuous.”

“We know Jake was in the building for a reason,” Charlotte insisted. “He came to get his car. The Molson bottle could establish that he knew about the hidden basement. If he knew about it, then Friederich had to have revealed it, which would mean Friederich used the basement.”

“For what purpose?”

Charlotte held up a finger. “We need to ask that of Jake Maehler.”

“We’re a long way from getting to him. I’ll be lucky to get anything out of Brady Prather when I drag Mary Ruth to the gym.” She checked her watch. “Speaking of which, we need to get back.”

Downstairs, Jud sat at the first table. Neighbors had crowded around him by pulling up extra chairs to be seated close to him. Clearly he was the main attraction. Jonathan and Vince were at the same table but at the opposite end. At the second table, Darla and some of the more gossipy neighbors sat with an elderly Japanese couple, fairly new to the neighborhood, who were hard of hearing. Darla was practically yelling at them in Japanese.

“Darla never misses an opportunity to show off her ability with Asian languages,” Francine groused as they went through the line. Darla had spent her middle school years in Asia. Her parents had been hired by foreign companies to teach their employees English.

“I’ve had my fill of her,” Charlotte said. “Let’s join the third table, the one closest to the desserts.”

They could hear Darla’s voice above all the others. She talked about Sara’s racing season. Francine listened in while she watched Charlotte devour the chocolate pecan brownies first. “Just how good is Sara, anyway?” she asked under her breath. “Is she a threat to Jake?”

Charlotte licked a brownie crumb off her finger. “Only if she were trying to seduce him. The girl wants to be a model, not a race car driver.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear it. I read it, or read it between the lines, in those magazines Friederich had. Sprinting Midgets or something like that.”

“You didn’t mention it before.”

Charlotte picked up a sesame chicken wrap. “Because you were hurrying me when I was trying to tell you what I’d figured out. She’s far more interested in being Cheryl Tiegs than Danica Patrick. She was wearing a t-shirt that had some sponsor’s name on it, and the caption implied she was pursuing a contract.” She took a bite. “This is good, but I’d rather have another piece of that angel food cake. Do I have time?”

Francine looked at her watch and almost panicked. “We’ve got to move this thing along. Jud hasn’t talked about the neighborhood watch yet, and then we need these people out of here so we can get Mary Ruth to the gym.”

“Don’t have a coronary, I’ll take care of it.” She struggled to her feet and waved at Joy. When Joy looked over, she pointed to her watch and said, much too loudly, “We need to get this moving.”

Francine rested her hand on her forehead and averted her eyes.

Joy hastily got back on the step ladder. “I know you’re all enjoying the food. Could we have a round of applause for Mary Ruth?”

Francine applauded loudly, grateful to have the attention shifted elsewhere. Charlotte gave an appreciative, “Woo-hoo!”

“While you’re finishing your dessert, Detective Brent Judson of the Brownsburg Police Department is here to talk to us about forming a neighborhood crime watch program. Let’s all give him our attention.”

Jud was poised, handsome, and smiled so much Francine thought he should run for office. She was relieved when the group agreed to have a follow-up meeting. The last thing she needed was more discussion. He passed out a pamphlet describing successful neighborhood watch programs and urged them to come prepared next time to discuss practical ideas on implementing a program.

Even then, it took forever for people to leave. They lingered and gossiped about Alice and Larry, especially when Alice returned to the kitchen with an armful of trash.

But finally they were gone. Francine clutched Charlotte. “It’s two fifteen. I’ve got to get Mary Ruth to the gym! She’s going to resist a lot. But she can’t say no! We may not get another chance like this.”

“Not to worry. We’ll all just tell her she’s going and drag her out of here. It’s too important. You can explain on the way.”

Charlotte gathered up Joy and Alice, and the four of them ambushed Mary Ruth in the great room. As predicted, she was horrified at the prospect of going to a gym.

“Nooooo! I’m not going to do that.” She backed away from them like they were dentists coming at her with a needle.

“Believe me, if there was any other way to question him without it seeming obvious, I wouldn’t ask,” Francine said.

“There’s got to be another way.”

Charlotte got in Mary Ruth’s face. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? I bet I’ve been in a gym at least a hundred times with all the physical therapy I’ve had. It’s not so bad.”

“That’s different. You were in a gym with a bunch of older people who needed rehab.”

“Not true. There were some young people there too.”

“Young or old, they all needed rehab. You’re talking about putting me in a gym with healthy, skinny people. What are they going to think of me?”

“They’re going to think you’re extraordinarily brave.” Francine managed to swoop in behind Mary Ruth, and the four women propelled her toward the mudroom that led into the garage. “They’re going to admire you for taking control of your life. And anyway, we’re there to get information out of Jake’s trainer, Brady Prather. He’s really nice, but if you don’t like him, you never have to go again.”

“After you’ve gotten the information out of him,” Charlotte added. “It could take several visits.”

“You’re not helping, Charlotte,” Francine said.

“Several visits!” Mary Ruth stuck her heels into the floor, and with her weight, provided plenty of resistance.

“Yep. You’ll probably need a note from your doctor too.”

“She’s always trying to get me to exercise. I’m doomed!”

Joy put her back into giving Mary Ruth a boost. She pushed her completely into the mudroom. “But it’s a good kind of doomed.”

“Joy! You’re in on this, too?”

“We’re all in on this, Mary Ruth. We were going to tell you earlier, but there just wasn’t time.”

Charlotte pointed at her watch. “Time is something we have very little of. Remember, Alice and Larry are counting on you. You’ve got to do it.”

Mary Ruth grabbed onto the door frame. “But what will I wear?”

Joy began to pry the fingers from the woodwork. “Not to worry, dear. Francine borrowed one of Jonathan’s t-shirts for you. It’s in her car, along with some sweatpants from Alice. And you’re wearing sneakers. You’ll be fine.”

She still didn’t look convinced. She let go of the door and held on to Francine. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

Francine gave her arm a squeeze. “Of course not. I’ll be with you all the time. You just follow my lead and do whatever Brady asks as we question him. And remember, today is just an evaluation.”

“Yeah,” said Charlotte. “He won’t ask you to ‘feel the burn’. Not today.”

Mary Ruth made a grab for the doorpost again. “Feel the burn!”

“Charlotte! Be quiet!” Francine said, intercepting Mary Ruth’s hands before they reached the door. “Let’s go,” she said.

Mary Ruth held on to Francine as the women did an awkward dance pushing and pulling her into the garage and over to the car. Mary Ruth gave one last whine as Joy reached in and buckled her seat belt, but it was the whine of a horse that had been broken. Francine climbed in the driver’s seat and, with one eye watching the car clock, drove away toward the Brownsburg Fitness Factory.