thirty-two

The minute she got home, Francine looked up the passage from Genesis. It was the story of how the Lord told Abraham that though Sarah laughed at the idea she could have a child in her old age, nothing was too wonderful for the Lord. And he promised that she would have a son.

Francine’s heart went out to Alice. Her #1 bucket list item was to have a child! To be in her seventies and living with such regret must be painful. Alice and Larry had been married late in life, too late for a child. They were probably too old to adopt by then too. Francine wasn’t sure what to do with the information. She might tell Joy, since Joy was the one who’d found out that the key verse could be found on the cross. But maybe not. Maybe such a far-fetched hope would be best kept secret until Alice decided to reveal it.

Francine didn’t sleep well that night.

The next day she rolled up in front of Charlotte’s house at 10:45 to pick her up and take her to the Bob Evans for their meeting with Joy. Two reporters in news vans followed her from her house.

Charlotte waved at the vans before getting in. “I’m hungry. I dreamt all morning about their biscuits,” she told Francine.

“It’s better than what I dreamt about last night. Friederich’s dead body flopping out of Alice’s shed, but instead of eyes he had vanilla wafers and instead of a mouth he had a peeled banana. In place of his hair he had whipped cream.”

“Sounds delicious. Did you eat a banana cream pie before you went to bed?”

Francine backed the car out of the driveway. “Kind of. After I left your house yesterday I ended up helping Mary Ruth and Alice get ready for her catering event today. She was making banana cream cupcakes.”

Charlotte buckled her seat belt. “And you got to help. I never get to help. She’s still sore about the time I stuck my finger in that batch of chocolate chip cookie dough and took a lick of it in front of Betty the lunatic health inspector, isn’t she? Because I thought we all got over that.”

“I think she would get over it if she thought you wouldn’t do it again. You know she was on probation for nearly a month.”

“That Betty Partlow, she really knows how to hold a grudge. All because I ran for secretary of the Hendricks County Garden Society thirty years ago and beat her, she’s never forgiven me.”

“You have a way of inflaming resentment.”

Charlotte leaned right and looked in the passenger side mirror. “How long have the paparazzi been with you?”

“They were waiting at the curb this morning when I got up. They’ve been really bad this morning. They’ve knocked on the door, rang the doorbell, called. Jonathan tried to shoo them away but they kept asking him weird questions about Ravel’s Boléro and wouldn’t leave.”

“Is that anything like a sombrero?”

Francine chuckled. “Ravel is a composer. Boléro is a ballet piece he’s famous for. I feel like it was in the soundtrack of a movie, but I can’t remember which. Maybe I’ll look it up later.”

“I wonder why the paparazzi are asking about it.”

“Who knows? I just want this murder solved so they’ll go away.”

Charlotte folded her arms. “You know what’s weird? Until you picked me up, I hadn’t seen any of them today.”

“That is weird. Ever since Marcy’s managed to get us on the “D” celebrity list, she keeps finding ways to extend our fifteen minutes of fame. We need for Joy to get rid of her.”

“Fat chance of that happening. And I don’t see why you’re complaining. You could have had The View. I’ll be lucky if I get a cameo on Jersey Shore.”

Francine didn’t know what Jersey Shore was, but if Charlotte didn’t want to be on it, she probably didn’t want to be on it either.

Charlotte pulled Friederich’s iPod Touch out of her purse. “I got this thing charged up last night, but now I need a password to get in.”

“Really? I didn’t know you could password protect those things.”

“You got any ideas on what to try?”

“Have you thought about the police?”

“Why would he use a password like ‘the police’?”

The joke was bad, but Francine laughed in spite of it. “Don’t be obtuse. You know what I mean.”

“I do, and you know I’m not going to take it to them. I keep telling you, they don’t care about listening to Friederich’s music.”

“You can store other things on iPods than music.”

“Like what?”

“Like videos.” The moment it came out of Francine’s mouth, she made the connection. From the look on Charlotte’s face, she made the same connection. “What if Friederich stored the video of his secret lover on there?” Francine asked.

Charlotte stared at the iPod in her hand. “It’s possible.”

The paparazzi followed them into the parking lot of the Bob Evans.

“Maybe we should take this directly to the police station,” Francine said, cruising for a parking spot.

“I don’t know. The police have Friederich’s computer. Wouldn’t it be on the computer instead of his iPod? Or, at the very least, wouldn’t it be on both?”

“The newer iPods have cameras. That’s why I didn’t think about it before. Mine doesn’t. He might have recorded it directly onto the iPod instead of using a camera and then transferring it.” She parked the car.

“That’s not what Jake said. Jake said Friederich told him he used the hidden video cameras to make the recording.”

Francine glanced up in time to see a cameraman getting out of a news van and a female reporter with a handheld mike advancing toward them. “Stick the iPod in your purse and let’s get into the building, quick. Here comes the press.”

Charlotte jammed the device into her purse. Francine opened her car door and said, “No comment.”

Charlotte swung her door open, leaned on her cane, and slid out. She stood and waved. “I’m having eggs and biscuits, in case anyone wants to know.”

The reporter babbled something about YouTube, but Francine did her best to ignore her as they pushed their way into the Bob Evans front doors. There was a crowd, which surprised her, but they got seated immediately with Joy and Marcy, who were already there, leaving the reporter and the cameraman in the lobby.

“Whew,” Francine said, looking back toward the entrance to the restaurant. She spun in her chair and confronted Marcy. “This is all your fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Joy said. “It’s mine. That’s why I wanted you to be here. We need to clear the air.” She was wearing an RTV-6 polo shirt, slightly too large. The material bunched in front, and every few seconds she shrugged her shoulders back in an attempt to straighten it up. “I never thought it would be like this when I hired Marcy. She’s done what I asked.”

Marcy had her cell phone on top of the open menu and hit a few buttons. “I knew that if I focused this on Joy alone it wouldn’t have the impact we needed if we were going to get her opportunities to work with the media. It had to be that all of you were worthy of attention. And for the most part, it worked. That GMA interview was the best. Francine, you really stood out. That water rescue couldn’t have played better if we’d scripted it.”

The waitress came over carrying a coffee pot, saw that Joy and Marcy’s coffee mugs were empty, and filled them. “Y’all ready to order yet?”

“I think we need a few more minutes,” Joy said. She left and Joy turned apologetic. “I’m only sorry you ended up being played for comedy, Charlotte.”

“That certainly wasn’t my intention,” Marcy added. “But on the other hand, if you’re willing to say the vomiting episode was caused by lactose intolerance, I may be able to get you a commercial spot for Lact-Away. It’s a small company. There’s not much money in it, but they’re very interested.”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “I might want to hold out for something a little more … glamorous.”

Marcy stopped smiling. “That might be tough. I have some bad news. Except for Francine and, to some extent, Joy, the rest of you are yesterday’s news.”

Charlotte thought a moment. “Is that why the reporters were gone this morning?”

“Yes. The Food Network turned Mary Ruth down, no one cares about Alice, and Fox Sports dropped their offer to audition Joy, although Mary Ruth is still catering for them. Fortunately Joy is still being considered by GMA as a correspondent for senior issues.”

Joy sniffed. “I’ve been reduced to working for the track network as a roving reporter. I may even have to do my own camera work.”

“But you, Francine, are still hot,” Marcy continued. “I’ve booked you on The Dr. Oz Show.”

Francine started to object, but Marcy waved her quiet. “It’s really too late for you to say no. They’ve agreed to fly you out of Indianapolis on Monday for Tuesday’s taping. You’ll be talking about staying in shape in your seventies and keeping up your swimming skills.”

“It’s not too late. I just won’t go.”

Marcy buried her head in her hands. “Please don’t do this to me. You’re the only thing left I’ve got going. Besides Joy, of course.” When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes.

Francine hated to see people cry. “I’m sure you can come up with something else. Why’d Fox Sports drop Joy?”

“You don’t get it, do you? The media’s fickle. You have to capitalize on what you’ve got when you’ve got it. One of the Kardashians changes gender, gets a quickie divorce, or has a baby and suddenly you’re yesterday’s news. Well, not you personally, Francine. You’re a YouTube sensation, at least for the moment. It’s why I had to sign the contract for Dr. Oz right away. They’ve already started promoting your appearance.” She handed her phone to Francine.

A YouTube video was playing. Francine recognized the scene as being from the Good Morning America segment. Mary Ruth, with one hand on the side of the pool and the other grasping a stair rail, gulped air with a crazed look in her eyes. Everything was in slow motion. Francine rose slowly out of the water next to Mary Ruth. She shook her head, her hair flinging water droplets from side to side. She placed both hands on the stair rails and pulled herself onto a step. In slow motion she ascended the stairs, the wet sundress clinging to her body. Francine still had a good figure, and the dress showed it off. The way the video had been crafted reminded her of a movie segment, but she couldn’t place it. Then she recognized the music, only because she’d heard the name earlier in the day. “That’s Boléro!” She put it altogether. “This is a parody of Bo Derek in 10!” Francine sat in a horrified stupor.

Charlotte snatched the phone away from her just as the announcer said, “Francine McNamara, the septuagenarian YouTube sensation who saved her friend’s life. Learn how she stays in shape. Tuesday on Dr. Oz.”

“This is a great still picture of you at the end of the commercial. I don’t think they played Boléro at that point in the movie, but it hardly matters. This is no parody, Francine. You look pretty good. I can see why he would want you on the show.”

Francine’s face reddened. “How do you …?” She realized she was shouting at Marcy and quieted her voice to a terse reprimand. “How are you able to sign a contract for me? I never hired you as my publicist.”

“No, but Joy did. And my agreement with her calls for me to do whatever is necessary to fulfill certain expectations, which I can’t do without promoting you. I hate to play hardball, but if you sue me, I’ll drag Joy into the lawsuit, and then you’ll be suing your friend. You really don’t want to do that, do you? Especially when it’s much easier to just go along and do the interview. They’re flying me, too, so I can coach you through this.”

Francine looked to Joy, whose eyes pleaded with her to agree. “It’s not like it isn’t a huge compliment to you,” Joy said. “And remember, you’d be fulfilling your Sixty List number 10, Encourage Fitness Among Peer Age Group.”

Charlotte put her arm around Francine and gave her a quick hug. “Well, she’s got you there. It is on your list. And you could knock that one out of the park with an appearance on Dr. Oz.”

Francine gritted her teeth. “I was going to cross it off once Mary Ruth started working out with Brady.”

“See that table over there,” Marcy said, stealthily indicating a family seated in the corner. “One of them has her cell phone out.”

Francine glanced their way. Sure enough, the young mother was recording their interaction on her phone. “Let’s turn and wave at them,” she said.

They all pivoted toward the table and waved. The mother waved sheepishly and put the phone away.

Charlotte said, “Seriously, Francine, you’ve got to do this. How many people get a chance like this? And you know Jonathan will be supportive. He’ll be proud of you.”

“We’re ready to order,” Marcy said, summoning the waitress.

Francine knew Marcy was only trying to avoid a confrontation. “I want that video taken off the air and replaced with something more dignified.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t know if I have that much leverage.”

Marcy ordered a sandwich, Francine a salad, and Charlotte eggs, biscuits, and a side of pancakes. Joy, who hardly ever ate anything, ordered toast. The waitress put her order pad in her pocket, topped off Joy’s coffee, and left.

Charlotte waved to someone across the room. “Isn’t that Mary Ruth’s grandson Toby over there?”

“The one trying very hard to ignore us?” Francine said.

“Toby!” Charlotte called.

“Shush.” Francine hit her with a dessert trifold she picked up off the table. “Everyone’s looking at us.”

“They’ve been doing that since we got here.”

Toby lumbered over with a sheepish look on his face. “Hello, Mrs. Reinhardt.” He nodded at Marcy and Francine.

“Toby, your face is pale compared to that bright yellow Security shirt you’re wearing. Who’s that girl you’re with over there?”

“She’s a friend.”

“Has your friend got a name? She’s not from around here, is she? I don’t recognize her.”

“Her name is Ashley. We have econ class together.”

“Econ, huh? Are you supplying what she’s demanding?”

Toby blushed. Francine hit her again with the trifold. “You’re embarrassing the boy.”

She winked at Toby. “That’s the whole point. Are you working security somewhere, Toby? Mary Ruth didn’t say you had a job.”

“I’m working security at SpeedFest this week. Ashley’s dad works for the firm they hired to run security, and they were looking for big guys, so he hired me.”

Toby looked like a security guard with his size and his tattoos, but Francine figured with his passive nature he probably needed an in. “Sounds like a good girlfriend to have, Toby,” she said.

“We’re just friends, Mrs. McNamara.” He looked back at Ashley. “And I need to get back to her. Nice to see you all.”

Charlotte was close enough to grab hold of his beefy forearm. “Hold on a minute, Toby. You said you’re working security at SpeedFest?

He nodded. “It’s why I have get back and finish my lunch. I’ve got to be there at one.”

“Do you know where you’re going to be located?”

“Infield, I think.”

“So if we need help, we should look for you.”

Toby wrinkled his nose. “Help?”

“Unsavory types like the media. You know.” She tossed it off like it was something she had to deal with every day. “Say, you’re good with video games and that kind of stuff, aren’t you? Do you think you could find a way to reset the password on my iPod? I’m having trouble with it.” She handed it to him.

Toby turned it over in his hand. “Sure. What’d you do, forget the password?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I should be able to get around it.”

“Thanks.”

He returned to his table.

Francine waited until Toby was out of earshot. “What was that all about, Charlotte?”

“Oh, I just had to tease the boy. We spent that whole morning running tours together at Alice and Larry’s house, and he never once mentioned a girlfriend.”

“I mean involving Toby in breaking into Friederich’s iPod. It’s one thing to get yourself into trouble, but not the boy.”

Joy was aghast. “You have Friederich’s iPod?”

“Well, not anymore. Toby has it.”

“You know what I mean. Where did you get it?”

“She took it out of Friederich’s Corvette,” Francine said.

“I acquired it when we when we broke into Friederich’s house,” Charlotte said defensively. “Our little adventure that made it into the news.”

“The iPod didn’t,” said Joy. “Does Jud know you have it?”

“No. And we don’t want any … Imperial entanglements.” She said it like Alec Guinness in Star Wars.

“Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it?” Joy responded.

“Enough with the Star Wars dialogue,” Francine said. “Jake told us Friederich had a mysterious lover, and supposedly Friederich made some kind of video to use as blackmail in case she planned to dump him, which he was afraid of. We think if that video really does exist, it might be on the iPod.”

“And the mysterious lover might be the killer,” Charlotte added.

“No way.”

Francine nodded. “Way.”

Joy scooted a little closer to the table. “This is kind of exciting.”

The waitress returned with their food at that moment. She distributed the meals, refilled coffees, and left.

Charlotte spread out the scoop of butter on top of her pancakes. “And last night I started a rumor that Jake has a copy of the video and planned to give it to police after the race today.”

“Whatever for?”

“Because we need to force the killer to do something other than frame Larry.”

“How many people did you tell?”

Charlotte thought a moment. “Francine told me last night she didn’t want to know how I was going to do it, and I think maybe I’ll stick to that. Because I have an idea who the killer is.”

“Who?” they all asked at once.

She teased them with a smile. “Let’s just say that everything seems to revolve around Jake’s return to the midget car races. So something will happen today. We just need to watch Jake carefully. And Sara Baggesen. Friederich seemed to be tracking her movements.”

Joy frowned. “Eww. Like a stalker?”

“No, not like that. But he was flagging photos of her in a midget car magazine. There has to be a reason, and I bet it had to do with his death.”

“This could so work out,” Marcy said excitedly. “If the killer reveals himself and Joy is there to capture it all on tape first, she could really nab the GMA position.”

“Joy,” said Charlotte, “you’re not just going to be a track reporter today, you’re going to be an undercover journalist.”

They stared at each other. Joy’s face lit up. “Okay, Charlotte. You want to solve a mystery. I want to prove I’m a reporter. Let’s do this thing.”

Francine glared at Charlotte. “I want you to tell me who you think it is.”

Charlotte doused her pancakes with maple syrup. “I know what you’re thinking, Francine.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“You’re wondering if I’m making a big mistake, eating a lot of food before we go to the track. In case I get interviewed. Especially since I had breakfast food the last time and it didn’t turn out so well. The good news is, this is not tofu sausage and this is not artificial syrup.”

“Actually, I’m thinking that you’re making a big mistake not letting me in on your suspicions.”

“Then I can count on you sticking by my side?”

“Like syrup on those pancakes.”

“Then we are on the same menu.”