Chopping Spree

are still working at his house.”

“Nope. I saw them there, by the way. Do you happen to know who’s going to inherit the place? I don’t think Barry has any kin.”

“I don’t know about kin. One of the guys mentioned that Barry had left his goods to the ASPCA. It’ll be a while before they can get the transfer worked out, though. Why?”

I couldn’t tell my husband Because I’d like to be able to snoop around in my old friend’s house, and figure out why somebody stuck a knife in his gut. So I just said, “Oh, I need to know what kind of food he was giving the dog, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

I always wondered why I bothered to lie to Tom, since he could invariably tell when I was skirting the truth. A fierce crackle broke our connection before I could protest, or even ask when he would be home.

Arch appeared in the hall holding the puppy in his arms. Could that be a smile on Late’s face?

“I’m going up to finish the last bit of homework I’ve got,” my son announced. “I’ll take care of Late. What kind of dumb name is that for a dog, anyway?”

“I have no more idea about that than I do why Barry left him to me.”

Arch turned and started up the staircase, his usual clomping replaced by gentle steps. Snug in Arch’s arms, Late wagged his tail like a metronome.

In the kitchen, I started some milk heating for hot chocolate. While I stirred heavy cream and sugar into best-quality cocoa, I listened to the answering machine. There was only one message, and it was from Heather, the weeping mall office secretary. Westside was in limbo over the lunch event I was supposed to be catering on Thursday. She just wanted to give me a heads-up. Super.

I whisked the steaming milk into the cocoa mixture and considered. I had not heard back from Ellie McNeely. The kitchen clock said it was almost nine. Ellie was a friend, so I sipped the cocoa and punched in her number. No answer. Either she wasn’t at home or she wasn’t picking up.

Arch appeared in the doorway and said he thought Late, who was whining again, might need to go out. Hearing Arch’s voice and the whining puppy, Jake started scratching at the door to the pet area. I released Jake while Arch held on to the puppy with one hand and opened the back door with the other. Snuffling wildly at Late while giving me occasional confused looks, Jake seemed both curious about, and disheartened by, our canine orphan. Finally Jake loped through the back door. Late, howling, streaked after the bloodhound. I sensed imminent canine combat, although I was confident Jake could fend for himself. For the first time since we’d arrived home, I caught a glimpse of Scout. The cat’s green eyes peered down at the dogs from his perch in a small pine tree.

I sipped more hot chocolate and tried to think. Since the previous night, I hadn’t made it through a single hour without worrying about Julian. This hour was no exception, I thought, as I finished the chocolate. Just before ten, I washed my cup, let the dogs in, and settled them into their little room. A moment later, Scout scratched at the door, and I carefully placed him into his feline bed on a shelf above the hounds. Then I punched in the numbers for the St. Luke’s recorded prayer list and added Julian’s name.

I was starting up to bed when the dogs began to wail. I sighed. Was this what we were going to have to listen to all night, every night? Outside, someone killed a car engine. Oh good, I thought, my spirits rising. Tom’s back.

But it was not Tom. A timid knock at the front door only intensified the dogs’ howling. I checked the peephole, then opened the door.

Ellie McNeely, her trim figure still swathed in the trench coat and scarf in which I’d seen her earlier in the evening, gave me an apologetic look. Her hands fidgeted as she struggled for words. What was she sorry about? The unannounced visit? The late hour? The fact that she had not answered my calls?

Her hands finally came to rest on her lapels. She smoothed her coat and tossed her bangs off her forehead.

She said, “We need to talk.”

“I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

“Please, Goldy. I need you to come with me. I feel… awful.” A zigzag of emotional pain twisted her lovely face. “The cops suspect me. They told me not to leave town. They say I need to be clearer about my relationship with Barry. What about the cuff links? What about this? What about that? They want me to give a minute-by-minute accounting of where I was Monday night. I told them, I went home with a friend. Why don’t they believe me? Are they going to let Julian out and send me to jail instead?” Her voice cracked. “If you don’t help me, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

CHAPTER 12

Come with you where?” I asked, bewildered. If we needed to talk, why couldn’t we do so in my snug kitchen?

“For a drive,” she replied enigmatically. She looked up and down our street. A chilly whip of wind slashed through the evergreens. Ellie turned back to me, stamped her boots, and pulled her gloved hands into fists. “Please. It would help me so much to talk to you. But… it just has to be the two of us.”

“It’s almost ten o’clock, Ellie. And there’s no one here but my son. Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make you some hot—”

“Please, Goldy!”

I pressed my lips together, then nodded. Ellie was my friend from both St. Luke’s and Elk Park Prep. In fact, she was one of the only school parents who’d ever even been nice to me. Plus, she seemed distraught. And if I was going to help Julian, I needed to find out what Ellie knew. If that meant taking a drive, so be it.

“Let me run tell Arch I’m leaving.”

I sprinted up the stairs and informed Arch that Ellie McNeely was here, and we were going out for a bit. I’d put the pets to bed, I assured him, and Tom would be home soon.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Mom.”

OK, it was official. I had had enough. “You know, Arch, I wish you would try to be a bit nicer to me. Even a tiny bit would do.”

“Sorry, Mom. But you are always bugging me.”

How was telling him I was going out “bugging him”? I didn’t know. Lately, it seemed as if there were lots of things I didn’t know. I asked, “Do you want the animals up here with you?”

“I suppose.” He threw off his quilt, revealing his standard nighttime wear of sweatshirt and sweatpants. “That way I can take care of the puppy, in case he gets scared.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and paused, hunched over. He struggled for words. “Good idea, Mom,” he mumbled.

I’d had a good idea? Where were the Guinness people when you needed them?

While I donned my snow boots, mittens, down jacket, and scarf—with the temperature in the single digits, the wind chill was bound to be horrific—Arch shepherded the two dogs up to his room. Scout the cat, not surprisingly, decided to stay put.

Ellie sat waiting for me in her new SUV, a silver BMW that was the twin of Marla’s. The car was lovely, but in its interior light, Ellie didn’t look very good. Her expensively colored hair had turned waxy, probably from being repeatedly raked by her manicured nails. Her face, usually flawlessly made up, was puffy and still wrought with worry. The whites of her eyes were dark pink. From crying?

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard how somebody or somebodies are trying to smear me?” she demanded as I slid into the cold leather passenger seat.

“I’ve heard some things. That’s why I’ve been trying to call you.”

She revved the engine that she’d kept running while I was getting ready. “I suppose you heard the story about my Lexus being stolen and rammed into Barry’s car.”

“Yeah. But that was a while ago, wasn’t it? Barry took me out for espresso at The Westside Buzz in his new Saab. He loved having a fancy new car, and didn’t seem too upset about losing his old Mercedes.”

“Well, somebody’s upset about it.” She flipped on the overhead light and handed me a typescript clipped to several photographs. “I’ve got a friend who works on the Mountain