Chopping Spree

tell if it was a high-voiced man or a low-voiced woman.” He shrugged. “If something comes along to clear Julian, he’ll be out.”

“Somehow I don’t feel reassured.”

“Miss G. What we do know is that someone tried to mow Barry Dean—and you—down, and didn’t succeed in killing him, and then someone knifed him, and did succeed in killing him. And that person left evidence of himself or herself somewhere. We just need to find it,” he concluded. I was thankful he hadn’t added a comment about needles or haystacks. “That’s we meaning the sheriff’s department, Miss G. Not we as in Goldy, Marla, and Tom. OK?”

“Of course,” I replied sweetly. He groaned again.

CHAPTER 10

I finished the pears, dropped them into a simmering, barely sugared syrup, and gave directions to Tom for the poaching and finishing. Then I grabbed my coat and announced I was off to pick up Arch. Tom grinned and swore he’d have dinner ready when we got back.

In the gathering twilight, I held my husband’s smile in my mind as I zipped toward Elk Park. Maybe he wasn’t too mad at Dr. Gertrude Shoemaker, impostor neurologist, after all. I knew it irked him when I tried to insert myself into his cases… but I never did it when I didn’t have some kind of personal stake in solving the crime. Someone shoots out our window, poisons a client at an event I’m catering, or kills a fellow and exults when our family friend is arrested for the crime—yes, I was going to get involved. As they used to say in my native New Jersey, Whaddayathink I’m gonna do?

Darkness blew in along with charcoal clouds from the west. The high hills covered with pine trees turned to black velvet. A whirl of snow fogged the windshield; I flipped on the wipers. I thought of the scantily clad, hapless lacrosse players. Welcome to springtime in the Rockies!

I turned through the massive stone gates and gunned the van up the winding driveway that led to Elk Park Preparatory School. A caravan of four-wheel-drive vehicles, their lights on, sped down the driveway in the opposite direction. The kids must have been dismissed early. A lot of parents actually watched the practice, then called the coach later to offer unconstructive criticism. I wondered if that was why Shane had quit.

Snow swirled into the parking lot. Half a dozen Lexuses and BMW’s, their engines running, clustered by the pathway that came down from the fields. High above the lot, by the portable toilet at the edge of the fields, a few camel’s-hair-clad parents stamped their feet and clapped with mittened hands. Arch would die of embarrassment if I even showed my face at lacrosse practice, so I stayed put.

And that was how I saw Shane Stockham threaten a woman. Again.

The two figures first attracted my attention when they whacked open the thick wooden doors of the headmaster’s house. They paid no attention to the resultant crash or echoing bang of hinges. Shane Stockham I recognized instantly: His stocky body, rigid stance, and distinctive gait were unmistakable. He wore a ten-gallon hat and a sheepskin jacket—de rigueur Colorado wear for the upscale wannabe cowboy. Raised voices indicated things weren’t going well between him and his companion, a fashionable-looking woman wearing a mid-calf trench coat and leather boots. A twisted Burberry scarf held her blond-brown hair in place. She walked swiftly and gave off an assured, regal air. At one point, she stopped by an electric lantern to listen to Shane. After a moment, she reached out to touch his shoulder. He slapped her hand away and vigorously told her to shut up. The woman, momentarily thrown off balance, recovered and yelled at Shane to back off. I squinted to see her face in the gloom.

It was Ellie McNeely.

I groped through my bag for the Mace. I clutched it with my right hand and vaulted from the van. Shane might apologize on the phone all he wanted, but if he thought he was going to hurt my pal Ellie, he had, as my mother used to say, another think coming.

As I tore across the snow-dusted lot, I tried to imagine why those two had even been in the headmaster’s house. Meetings of all kinds were held in the luxurious residence, with its real Oriental rugs and antique furnishings. But if they’d been at a meeting, where were the other folks? Ellie’s daughter, after recovering from her parents’ brutal divorce, was one of the handful of sophomores in the National Honor Society; Shane’s airhead twin daughters were freshmen. I couldn’t imagine that both parents had been called in by the headmaster because the girls had somehow gotten into an argument. When I was ten yards away from them, I ducked behind one of the Lexuses.

“… trying to tell you that circumstances have changed,” Shane ranted, “and you’re not listening!”

“I am,” Ellie retorted, “but you know very well that all of the financial commitments of the school are made on the basis of those pledges. We offer teachers positions with fixed salaries…Oh, Goldy? What on earth are you doing here?”

The two of them stopped in their tracks. Both looked at me curiously as I stepped out from the shadow of the Lexus. As the snow drifted down, I tried to think of what to say. The freezing can of Mace was making my right hand ache.

“Uh,” I said, “uh, I just saw you two…” I fumbled about for words and squeezed the Mace can. Shane had backed well away from Ellie, and I was unsure of what to say or do. At the far edge of the lot, someone in a silver SUV honked.

“Well!” said Ellie. “That’s my daughter, honking my horn at me. I have to go. Talk to you later, Goldy.” With that, she turned with a sweep of trench coat and walked delicately across the snow to her van.

“Ellie,” Shane called after her, his tone suddenly apologetic—hmm—and calm, even cajoling. “Please, Ellie. Please think about what I’m saying—”

“No-o!” she called, making her voice sweet. She didn’t turn back.

I tried to give Shane a look that was both punitive and sympathetic. I was itching to know about their conflict. Shane rubbed his eyes, tilted his head back, and groaned.

“Goldy, so, did you get my message about tomorrow?”

His question startled me. I shivered as if unexpectedly chilled, tucked my hands hastily into my pockets, and let go of the Mace. Only then did I give him a bright smile. Even if I did have more reason to be wary of him than ever, Shane, after all, was a client.

“Yes, and I left one for you. We’ll be there at ten—” I stopped. My God, I’d forgotten something. In the bustle of last week’s events and the commotion of the last twenty-four hours, I had neglected to obtain Shane’s final payment for the lunch. I emphatically had not received the last six hundred dollars he owed Goldilocks’ Catering … which should have been paid five days ago, before he’d gone on a jewelry-leasing binge with his wife. This was not the gratuity, which I would be picking up after the event. This was the second payment for the food and service. It was just the sort of detail that I’d feared would slip between the cracks, now that I’d become so busy. My heart sank.

“But,” I continued with another blinding smile, “I’ll need the second installment before we can do the party. I’ve got all the food ready.”

“Look, Goldy, I am extremely sorry for what happened yesterday. My wife is… on medication…. Things just sort of fell apart. We’re very enthusiastic about this luncheon party, believe me.”

“I need the check, Shane.”

“There are so many things I need to talk to you about,” he countered nervously, cutting his eyes from side to side, as if looking for someone or something more important to do. “So many things that I don’t know where to begin…”

My hand slipped back into my pocket and I gripped the Mace. As Shane rattled on about how successful the luncheon was going to be, I wondered where he was going with this conversation. Make that, where Shane was going, period. Tonight he’d flailed at Ellie, then he’d asked me whether I’d received his message. Then he’d refused to address the nonpayment issue, and hopped back to yesterday’s event. My skin broke out in a chilled sweat. The only other person who jumped from topic to topic like that—to keep you off guard—was The Jerk, my ex. And he usually started leaping around verbally before he punched me in the face.