on behalf of Suz Craig.’ I told him it was because she was afraid to sign it!”
“Who signed it for her?”
“Didn’t say. I couldn’t tell, anyway, because John Richard snatched that letter away and started to have one of his fits.”
I gritted my teeth. I checked the timer for the eggs: one minute to go. The doll collectors had gathered outside and were drinking their juice and pulling large cups of coffee for themselves from the silver urn. “ReeAnn, look, I just have one more question for you, and it has to do with Suz Craig.” She groaned. “I’m just trying to figure out about that night, Friday. Was there any reason they were going out? Did they have a standing date for Friday night?”
“Oh, now that I do remember, because Ms. Crank was always wanting them to celebrate their little anniversaries. First month of going out, they exchange balloons; second month, they buy each other workout clothes; on and on until they’ve been going together six whole months, then she gets a fur coat and he gets an ID bracelet, for God’s sake. Pull-leeze.”
“And Friday night was…”
“August first? The Month Seven anniversary, where have you been? I think she wanted tickets to Bermuda, but instead she got herself killed. What can I say? She should have given him the bonus. Oh, man, listen to me. I need another painkiller.” Chortling, ReeAnn hung up.
The timer beeped. I took out the casserole and had a taste with a small plastic spoon. The silken texture of the eggs, combined with the tomatoes, leeks, hot, barely melted chunks of cream cheese, and seasoned poached shrimp, was divine. I carried the pan out and placed it next to the warm ham and baskets of bread. The doll board members included Tina Corey dressed as Sea Queen Babsie and Gail Rodine in a formidable wide-brimmed hat covered with netting. They all piled up their plates with food and talked excitedly about what a smash their opening day had been. I was surprised to see Frances Markasian, her wild black hair and ratty trench coat at odds with the perfect coiffures, stylish clothes, and occasional doll costumes of the board members, at the end of one of the picnic tables. She whispered to me that she was covering the show for the paper.
“I’m telling you, Goldy,” Frances said as she shoveled up a heaping forkful of eggs, “I’m going to have to do a bikers’ convention next, to recover from this.”
“I need to talk to you,” I whispered back. “I’m just about done serving here, and I was going to call you today, anyway. I have some information and some… lingering questions about Suz Craig’s murder.”
She brightened. “You promised you’d share stuff with me and you’re actually going to do it? Wonders never cease. These eggs are yummy.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you the recipe. Want to talk?” I asked conspiratorially.
She dropped her fork, eased off the picnic bench, and shouldered her huge purse. “I need to take notes while we talk. Let me meet you in the kitchen, before I die of ecstasy.”
25
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, Goldy,” Frances announced when she’d heaved herself up on one of the counters, armed with her notebook, a newly popped Jolt cola, and a cigarette strictly for-bidden by the signs posted everywhere in the LakeCenter. She blew the smoke in a rolling stream out the kitchen’s open window. “With all that John Richard’s up to, it’s almost as if you’re being punished, too. I heard he beat you up and then skipped. Any idea where he is?”
“No. And if those women catch you smoking around their precious dolls, you’ll be punished so badly you’ll never be able to say the words ?Bail-Jumping Babsie’ again.”
She shrugged. “Aw, you’re breaking my heart.” The cigarette dangled from her thin lips. “Spill it. Tell me everything you’ve got. I’ve got a police band radio, remember. How badly did John Richard hurt you yesterday?”
“I’m okay,” I said briefly. “You remember who Ralph Shelton is??
“Course I remember. I may have been cover Monday morning, July 14. The missing day in Suz’s secret tapes. On that Monday morning, what had Ralph Shelton talked to Suz about? Had Ralph received some of Suz’s wrath that day, too? I had no idea. Could the Jerk have Suz’s tapes from July 14? Had whoever tried to blow up ReeAnn thought the Jerk had given ReeAnn those tapes? Didn’t know that either, and I certainly wasn’t going to start speculating with Frances. We were friends, but there are some things you just don’t share with a journalist.
“I still think Korman did it.” Frances stopped scribbling but held her pen poised. “I’m just looking at ACHMO for my other story. But you’re really into this.”
I slumped against the counter. “It’s awful.”
Frances energetically stubbed out her cigarette in the sink, then slapped her notebook closed. “Two things, Goldy. You seem very stressed. It’s your involvement in this case.”
“Oh, gee, Frances, how would you like it if your violent ex-husband was accused of murder? How would it feel if he came over and tried to beat you up before escaping to God-knows-where? Relaxing? Besides, I’m asking questions to soothe Arch, I told you.”
Frances swept a dark mass of frizzy hair off her forehead. “Know what, Goldy? You need a hobby.”
I said glumly, “Cooking used to be my hobby.”
“Naw, you need something else. It is like you’re being punished, you’re so obsessed with this case. You need to get some distance.”
I grabbed a box for the dirty breakfast dishes. “What would you suggest, Frances, doll collecting?”
She burst out laughing and jumped off the counter. “Now you’re punishing me.”
It took a solid hour to clean up after the breakfast. By the time I finished, I felt as drained as the empty silver coffee urn. But the breakfast had been a success. When the doors opened for the hordes waiting to get into the doll show, I was glad I could slip out the side exit and avoid the stampede. I hustled to my van. A phone call to the McCrackens wouldn’t do. I stepped on the gas and headed toward the country club. I wanted to see Patricia in person.
She was pushing Tyler the Terrible on their swing set constructed on the sloping backyard beyond the driveway, scene of the infamous roller hockey game. For a moment I stood watching them, unobserved. It had been a long time since I’d seen Patricia look happy. Her face was relaxed, her arm movements enthusiastic and graceful. She and Tyler were wearing matching navy sweatsuits. With each tug on the ropes she cooed to her son, a blond little fellow whose round face and squeals of laughter showed he was loving every minute. I almost hated interrupting them. On the other hand, unlike Patricia, my son was estranged from me, and I had information to gather before Arch and I could be reconciled.
“Howdy!” I called, and stepped carefully down the embankment. “I was in the neighborhood! Thought I’d stop by!”
Patricia smiled unenthusiastically and allowed the swing rope to go slack, which caused Tyler no end of grief.
“Keep swinging,” I told her, once I was beside her. “Don’t disappoint him.”
Obediently, she started pushing again, but less energetically, so that Tyler again squawked.
“Do you want me to do it?” I suggested. “I felt bad about not being able to talk to you yesterday when you called. So I just thought I’d come by. Sort of for an update.”
She brightened and moved aside so that I could push Tyler, who gave me only one command: “Really hard, okay? Really hard.”
“Okey-doke,” I agreed, and gave him a good push as Patricia flopped onto the grass, watching us. Tyler squealed with delight. “Hey, buddy!” I called to him as he lofted up over the hill. “I’m a swing pusher from way back! I’m the queen of the swing pushers!” I gave him another vigorous shove and he yelped happily.
“Be careful,” Patricia cautioned. “One of the reasons I’m here is that I want you to be careful,” I said in a normal voice so as not to frighten Tyler. “John Richard is out on bail. And now he’s disappeared.”
She lifted her pale eyebrows. “I took tae kwon do before I got pregnant and after I got out of the hospital. Have a red belt, black stripe, now. I can take care of myself. What’s the other reason you’re here?”
“Well, I was just thinking about John Richard’s finances.”
She wrinkled her rabbitlike nose. “He had to auction the condo just… what? In the last ten days.”
“But why auction it at all? See, he hadn’t gotten news about his bonus yet ? “
Patricia perked up. “Bonus? Did he not get a bonus from ACHMO?”
