than I, so I called her and told her what had happened.
“That rings a faint bell… it’s an American murder, I think,” Jane said interestedly. “Isn’t this bizarre, Roe? That such things could happen in Lawrenceton? To us? Because I really begin to think this is happening to us, to the members of our little club. Did you hear that Mamie’s purse has been found under the seat in Melanie Clark’s car?”
“Melanie! Oh, I can’t believe it!”
“The police may be taking that seriously, but Roe, you and I know that’s ridiculous. I mean, Melanie Clark. It’s a plant.”
“Huh?”
“A club member was killed, and another club member is being used to divert suspicion.”
“You think whoever killed Mamie took her purse and deliberately planted it under Melanie’s car seat,” I said slowly.
“Oh, yes.” I could picture Jane standing in her tiny house full of her mother’s furniture, Jane’s silver chignon gleaming amid bookcases full of gory death.
“But Melanie and Gerald Clark could have had something going,” I protested weakly. “Melanie could really have done it.”
“Aurora, you know she’s absolutely head over heels about Bankston Waites. The little house she rents is just down the street from mine and I can’t help but notice his car is there a great deal.” Jane tactfully didn’t specify whether that included overnight.
“Her car is here a lot too,” I admitted.
“So,” Jane said persuasively, “I am sure that this candy thing is another old murder case revisited, and maybe the police will find the poison in another club member’s kitchen!”
“Maybe,” I said slowly. “Then none of us are safe.”
“No,” Jane said. “Not really.”
“Who could have it in for us that bad?”
“My dear, I haven’t the slightest. But you can bet I’ll be thinking about it, and I’m going to start looking for a case like yours right this moment.”
“Thanks, Jane,” I said, and I hung up with much to think about, myself.
I had nothing special to do that night, as my Saturday nights had tended to run the past couple of years. Right after I ate my Saturday splurge of pizza and salad, I remembered my resolution to call Amina in Houston.
Miraculously, she was in. Amina hadn’t been in on a Saturday night in twelve years, and she was going out later, she said immediately, but her date was a department store manager who worked late on Saturday.
“How is Houston?” I asked wistfully.
“Oh, it’s great! So much to do! And everyone at work is so friendly.” Amina was a first-rate legal secretary.
People almost always were friendly to Amina. She was a slender brown-eyed freckle-faced extrovert almost exactly my age, and I’d grown up with her and remained best friends with her through college. Amina had married and divorced childlessly, the only interruption in her long, exhaustive dating career. She was not really pretty, but she was irresistible-a laughing, chattering live wire, never at a loss for a word. She had a great talent for enjoying life and for maximizing every asset she’d been born with or acquired (her hair was not exactly naturally blond). My mother should have had Amina for a daughter, I thought suddenly.
After Amina finished telling me about her job, I dropped my bombshell.
“You found a body! Oh, yick! Who was it?” Amina shrieked. “Are you okay? Are you having bad dreams? Was the chocolate really poisoned?”
Amina being my best friend, I told her the truth. “I don’t know yet if the chocolate was poisoned. Yes, I’m having bad dreams, but this is really exciting at the same time.”
“Are you safe, do you think?” she asked anxiously. “Do you want to come stay with me until this is all over? I can’t believe this is happening to you! You’re so nice!”
“Well, nice or not,” I retorted grimly, “it’s happening. Thanks for asking me, Amina, and I will come to see you soon. But I have to stay here for now. I don’t think I’m in any more danger. This was my turn to be targeted, I guess, and I came out okay.” I skipped my speculation with Arthur that maybe the killer would go on killing, and Jane Engle’s conjecture that maybe we would all be drawn in, and cut right to Amina’s area of expertise.
“I have a situation here,” I began, and at once had her undivided attention. The nuances and dosey-does between the sexes were Amina’s bread and butter. I hadn’t had anything like this to tell Amina since we were in high school. It was hard to credit that grown people still engaged in all this-foreplay.
“So,” Amina said when I’d finished. “Arthur is a little resentful that this Robin spent the afternoon at your place, and Robin’s trying to decide whether he likes you well enough to keep up the beginning of your relationship in view of Arthur’s slight proprietary air. Though Arthur is not the proprietor of anything yet, right?”
“Right.”
“And you haven’t actually had a date with either of these bozos, right?”
“Right.”
“But Robin has asked you to lunch in the city for Monday.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you’re supposed to meet him at the classroom.”
“Yep.”
“And Lizanne has definitely discarded this Robin.” Amina and Lizanne had always had a curious relationship.
Amina operated on personality and Lizanne on looks, but they’d both run through the male population of Lawrence-ton and surrounding towns at an amazing rate.
“Lizanne formally bequeathed him to me,” I told Amina.
“She’s not greedy,” Amina conceded. “If she doesn’t want ‘em, she lets ’em know, and she lets ‘em go. Now, if you’re going to meet him at the university, you realize he’s going to be sitting in a classroom full of little chickies just panting to hop in bed with a famous writer. He’s not ugly, right?”
“He’s not conventionally handsome,” I said. “He has charm.”
“Well, don’t wear one of those blouse and skirt combinations you’re always wearing to work!”
“What do you suggest I wear?” I inquired coldly.
“Listen, you called me for advice,” Amina reminded me. “Okay, I’m giving it to you. You’ve had an awful time. Nothing makes you feel better than a few new clothes, and you can afford it. So go to my mom’s shop tomorrow when it opens, and get something new. Maybe a classic town ‘n country type dress. Stick to little earrings, since you’re so short, and maybe a few gold chains.” (A few? I was lucky to have one my mother had given me for Christmas. Amina’s boyfriends gave her gold chains for every occasion, in whatever length or thickness they could afford. She probably had twenty.) “That should be fine for a casual lunch in the city,” Amina concluded.
“You think he’ll notice me as a woman, not just a fellow murder buff?”
“If you want him to notice you as a woman, just lust after him.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t mean lick your lips or pant. Keep conversation normal. Don’t do anything obvious. You have to keep it so you don’t lose anything if he decides he’s not interested.” Amina was as interested in saving face as any Japanese.
“So what do I do?”
“Just
“I’ll try,” I said doubtfully.
“Don’t worry, it’ll come naturally,” Amina told me. “I have to hang up, the doorbell is ringing. Call me again and tell me how it goes, okay? The only thing wrong with Houston is that you aren’t here.”
“I miss you,” I said.
“Yeah, and I miss you, but you needed me to leave,” Amina said, and then she did hang up.
And after a moment’s disbelief, I knew she was right. Her departure had freed me from the role of the most
