recognized.
A scalpel, one of the kind that used disposable blades.
The blade had dried blood on it.
Now I really had something to tell Tom Schulz. And a few things to discuss with my son.
“Tom,” I said into the phone, “I have to talk to you.”
“I barely recognized your voice, you sounded so friendly.”
“Tell me about the weapon Laura Smiley used on herself.”
“Well now, I don’t know whether—”
“Come on,” I pleaded, “you told me yourself that a suicide case was closed unless some evidence was found—”
“And so far you’ve given me theories, a torn article, a note, and a missing prescription.”
“Tom!”
“Okay, okay. One of those twin-bladed ladies’ razors. It had a lot of blood on it, I know that. From the depth of the wound on her wrists, the deputy coroner figured she could have done it with that. Although he’s not a terribly sharp guy.”
“Not too sharp,” I said. “That sounds like something Laura Smiley would say.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Forget it,” I said. Then I asked, “So the theory was she was shaving her legs?”
“I guess.”
“Dumb. Stupid. Imbecilic.”
“It’s good to hear you sounding like yourself. What’d you find out from Pomeroy? Did he know anything about Vonette?”
I said, “Hold on. Laura Smiley didn’t shave, I’ll be willing to bet anything. She was a feminist—”
“Is that like socialist? I don’t think they shave either.”
“I know it’s a challenge, but try to take me seriously. Look at it practically. Have you ever cut yourself with one of those Good News razors? Or some other twin-bladed kind?”
“Strictly an electric man, myself.”
“Well,” I said, “it’s almost impossible, I don’t care what the deputy coroner says. You’d have to be trying real hard, because you can barely nick yourself, much less cut, wound, stab, or slash. I’d say your deputy coroner has got a hole in his head.”
“Well,” Tom said apologetically, “he’s new. So you’re saying you think she used something else?”
“She or someone else.” I fingered the surgical kit. “You’d better come on over. I’ve got something for you.”
Within fifteen minutes he had picked it up. He looked dubious. Wanted to know if this was some kind of kid’s joke. Asked if I touched anything, and where I found it.
“Arch got it out of this station wagon, which belongs to the Kormans,” I said. “You know Laura’s blood type and all that?”
He said, “Yes, we do, Goldy. Now listen. I know it’s hard for you to leave the police work to me. But just for a couple of days, try.”
Then it was time for me to do the picking up, first pizza with extra cheese, Arch’s favorite, then assorted goodies from the pastry shop for the women’s meeting. When I arrived at the grocery store both Arch and Patty Sue were shuffling down an aisle wearing fatigued, irritated faces. It was, after all, past dinnertime. I checked their cart for the avocados, carrots, celery, cherry tomatoes, Belgian endive, apples, assortment of cheeses, chicken, eggs, chips, ground beef, cups and crepe paper, and decorative squash and pumpkin I had ordered. Plus Coke and chocolate soda. I was thankful for the fifty dollars from Hal.
“Mom,” whined Arch, “this is boring. I’m tired and hungry.”
“Just need frozen bread dough,” I mumbled, claiming the cart.
“I saw your ex-husband and his new girlfriend over a couple of aisles,” whispered Patty Sue, “with the older Dr. Korman and Vonette.”
I turned to her as we headed toward the frozen-food section. “Oh, that’s just great. What’re they doing here?”
But I didn’t have to wait for Patty Sue to come up with an answer, for at that moment the Korman entourage came wheeling around to frozen foods.
Patty Sue moaned. She said, “I’m not feeling too good.”
“Just do me the favor of not asking for a medical consultation right now,” I said.
“Why, look who’s here,” said John Richard. “Goldilocks shopping for porridge. What are you going to put in it?”
“Hello, Vonette,” I announced, as if the girlfriend and two doctors were not present.
“Ho Arch! How’s my boy?” asked John Richard as he pinched his unsmiling son on the cheek. With his tall, hunk-type frame, John Richard looked like a benevolent defensive end talking to a young fan. Only Arch was not acting properly adoring. John Richard responded by turning to his girlfriend. “I told you she was a bitch,” he said between his teeth. The girlfriend bobbed a head of streaked hair. “Goldy,” he went on, turning back to me, “meet Pam Mosser. She teaches geometry at the high school. She’s my, er, fiancee.”
I was so proud of myself. I smiled politely and said, “How do you do?” The virtue of an eastern upbringing.
“Patty Sue,” said Fritz, “how are you getting along?”
“Well,” she began, “not too—”
“Please be quiet, Patty Sue,” I ordered.
“Now Goldy,” Fritz warned. “Don’t start up.”
“Start up with what?” I asked and gave Vonette a knowing look, from which she shrank.
Fritz turned to stare at Vonette.
“Mom,” Arch moaned beside me, “I’m getting tireder.”
“I still don’t feel so—” Patty Sue began.
My ex-mother-in-law looked at me guiltily and cleared her throat. Patty Sue had disappeared down the aisle.
“Oh, Goldy dear,” Vonette said nervously, “I need the car back. I’m sorry, I forgot something, ah, it needs to go into the shop. Sorry,” she said again.
I wasn’t ready for another loss of vehicle. I turned to beat a retreat past orange juice and toward ice cream, where Patty Sue had arrived and was filling her arms with Fudge Swirl, Double Chocolate Chip, and Rocky Road.
“Couple of days,” I promised over my shoulder. “At the club Halloween party. My van should be ready by then. Then I’ll give you the Chrysler. See you Friday, Vonette!”
We were almost at the checkout stand.
To my utter delight, Arch turned around and yelled, “What’s geometry?”
CHAPTER 23
I got into the car feeling light-headed. But I congratulated myself on one thing: I had survived the encounter. Every little success helped.
“Have some pizza,” I said to Arch. “It’s either next to you or you’re sitting on it.”
Patty Sue found the pizza box. She and Arch began to tug out hot triangular slices stringy with mozzarella. The smell was inviting, but I wasn’t hungry. The last two hours had been too draining. Arch opened the soft drinks and offered me one. When I refused, I noticed that my hands were shaking.
I said, “Let’s go home.”
After getting Arch to bed and carefully placing the food supplies onto the pantry and refrigerator shelves, I still felt unsettled. It was bad enough to have to live in the same town and hear of John Richard’s many exploits. Bad enough to have to endure his arrogance and new wealth. But to have to endure him at the grocery store was almost too much.
The next few days were going to be hectic. There was cleaning the club, cooking for the meeting Friday and
