Chopping Spree

followed, I’d ruled each of the three women out as being the person who deserved to be behind bars, instead of Julian. Where had the women gone when they left the mall? Had they been together? I doubted the police had even questioned them, because they hadn’t been in the shoe department when Julian found me. I doubted I’d find a receipt with a “time of sale” in the jumble of footwear. How long had Barry been in that Prince & Grogan shoe cabinet, anyway?

My cell phone bleated in my apron pocket. I leaped up and almost careened onto Page’s chaise lounge. I grabbed the phone and turned off the power. If Page or Shane or anybody, for that matter, found me snooping around in a client’s closet, my catering career would be over.

Strolling officiously down the hall to the kitchen, I popped back into the bathroom. There I turned the fan off. Back in the kitchen, I leaned against the side-by-side refrigerator, repowered the cell, and checked the incoming calls. Apparently, somebody at Hulsey, Jones, Macauley & Wilson wanted to talk to me in the worst way.

“Liz,” I said when she came in with an empty cobbler pan, “how’s it going? Sorry to have been gone so long.”

“They love it.” When Liz’s eyes twinkled, her face seemed to light up, too. “They’re demanding the recipe. With Page gone, it’s a real party.” She began filling the sink with soapy water, and I realized how much I appreciated one particular perk of success: being able to delegate to a trustworthy lieutenant. I said impulsively: “Liz, I’m very thankful we’re working together.”

She smiled. “Me, too. I haven’t received any calls on my cell since we started over here. But… was that your cell phone I heard?” she asked, lifting one of her silvery eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me you heard it.”

“It wasn’t for me, was it? I mean, just on the off-chance.”

Of course, I knew what was worrying her. “No,” I replied. “It wasn’t about Teddy. It was… my lawyer.”

“Everything’s all right?”

“Oh, yeah.” If it wasn’t, I’d probably be the last to know. I checked my watch: one-thirty. While Liz whisked back into the dining room, I began rinsing out and packing up our containers. The window over the sink revealed that the thickening snow was coming down at an acute slant. This was a sure sign of a fast-moving storm. Liz reappeared, her eyes alight with laughter.

“Two of those widows are under Shane’s spell. He looks like he’s in a state of sexual ecstasy, just waiting for those checks to roll in.”

I smiled. Maybe I wouldn’t have to hold on to Page’s ring for very long, after all. Just don’t ask me to contemplate the safety of those infatuated widows’ investments. In any event, that was beyond my control. What I really needed to know was what was going on with Steve Hulsey, Esquire.

“Look, Liz. As I said, that message was from my criminal defense lawyer. Can you handle clearing while I give him a call?”

“Of course,” she replied cheerfully, as she placed a stack of dirty dishes beside the sink. “I wouldn’t want to miss the widows writing those checks. Fifty thou each.” She glanced outside, then added, “Listen, Goldy, why don’t you let me finish up everything here? It’ll provide some distraction from obsessing about Teddy. Anyway, aren’t you chaperoning a school field trip today?”

“I’m picking Arch and his pals up at their school at four.” I sighed, dreading another chilly encounter with my son. “Thanks for reminding me. Maybe I better see if the attorney wants to huddle before then.”

She nodded and moved back into the dining room. I dialed Steve Hulsey’s number.

“He wants you to meet him at the jail as soon as possible,” his secretary informed me, her voice crisp, efficient, and not at all friendly. “He needs to speak to you about Julian Teller.”

“Why does he need to talk to me about Julian?”

“Mr. Hulsey has taken on his case. Mr. Hulsey is down at the jail now. Mr. Hulsey needs to see you.”

I couldn’t count to ten, so I counted to three. “I’m catering way up by the Aspen Meadow Wildlife Preserve.” I could hear the secretary tapping away at a keyboard. Clearly, my answer wasn’t worth her full attention. I raised my voice a bit. “The snow’s coming down pretty hard. It’ll take me at least half an hour to get down to the jail. Can’t you please tell me what this is about? Can’t I talk to Steve over the phone?”

“Mr. Hulsey will be waiting for you in the jail lobby.” She disconnected before I could protest. I threw the cell phone onto the counter.

At that moment, Marla tiptoed into the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. She wore a royal blue and black wool suit, an onyx and sapphire necklace and matching earrings, and royal blue shoes. She gave me her cat-who-swallowed- the-canary look and filled her cup with coffee from the big percolator. “So,” she began, “the last time I saw you with Liz Fury, there was a bit of a disagreement going on. Now you two are all cozy. What happened?”

“Oh, she’s having problems with her son. In case you haven’t noticed, I have the same kind of problems. Listen,” I rushed on, “Monday night, how did you meet up with Page after she was ejected from the lounge?”

Marla’s eyes widened. “Ellie and I just had to know what had happened, so we went looking for Page at the mall’s security office. The cops had just released her, so we again heard how much she hated and despised Barry Dean and her husband. She was really ready to shop then, so we all headed toward the shoe sale!”

“OK, but were you shopping together? I mean, the whole time in Prince and Grogan?”

Marla crinkled her nose and slurped her coffee. “We all bought a ton of shoes, if that’s what you mean. Why? Does this have something to do with Julian? I’ll do anything to help.”

“I know Ellie went home with Elizabeth Harrington. Did you and Page drive back to Aspen Meadow together?” I pressed.

“No, why? The cops had told Shane they’d take him home, Page said. He’d left his BMW there at the mall, so I drove Page to it. She said she was bringing it back up here.”

“When was that? Eight-thirty? Eight forty-five?” I asked breathlessly.

Marla moved her wrist back and forth; the diamonds on her Rolex sparkled. “It’s a nice watch, Goldy, but I feel it’s gauche always to be checking it. Sorry, I don’t know what time it was.”

“How about Ellie? When did she leave?”

“For crying out loud, Goldy! She’s our friend! Why do you want to know all this?”

“Just tell me!”

Marla expelled breath. “We saw an old friend, Elizabeth Harrington, at the shoe sale. You remember, the widow of Brian Harrington?”

“Right, Ellie told me she was with her.”

“Elizabeth lives near Ellie, so she offered to take her home. Around nine, I guess. Why does it matter?”

“Just something else I’m trying to figure out for Tom,” I said lightly, as Liz reappeared at the kitchen door.

Marla sighed at the appearance of Liz, rolled her eyes at me, and trounced out of the kitchen.

Four minutes later, I had thanked Liz for both her hard work and her offer to clean up by writing her another check, the second one I’d given her that day. I quickly explained that I was sure old Shane wasn’t going to cough up an extra gratuity. Even with all of Liz’s own problems, she actually laughed. I thanked her again and hugged her.

Four additional heavy, wet inches of snow had accumulated since we’d arrived. At the end of the driveway, I looked right and left to check for traffic—there wasn’t any—and glanced up into the Preserve. The curtain of flakes had thinned; maybe we were experiencing a mere flurry. Snow fell softly on millions of rows of perfectly frosted pines. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and made me feel a bit better. At least for a while.

“Julian Teller passed the second polygraph,” Steve Hulsey informed me in the lobby of the jail. His voice was a deep wheeze, like a snake with bronchitis. This day, he was wearing an impeccable dark beige silk suit. “But he still will be formally charged—arraigned—on Friday morning.” He loomed over me. “Second-degree murder, a heat- of-passion crime.”

“What are you talking about?” Denial rose in my throat like a scream. The sergeant on duty, a pudgy woman with a face like a raisin cookie, watched our interchange with, I imagined, one finger on the button you use to summon officers into the lobby. But I couldn’t help myself. “There’s more to Barry’s murder than you think!” I snapped.