Chloe Boston 15 - Murder by the Book Read online

  “He’s apparently weak in the knees with nerves over the upcoming wedding.”

  “He’s not having second thoughts, is he?”

  “Don’t even suggest such a possibility,” I exclaimed.

  “Well, what is it then?”

  “That’s for you to find out, and then set him straight.”

  “And you volunteered me for this task, did you?”

  “You are his best man. It’s your duty.”

  “I suppose. I’ll give him a call this afternoon.”

  Alex went back to reading the paper, which infuriated me. How could he be so blasé about such a momentous event? Men, I thought, how do they get enough output out of their feeble brains to coordinate necessary bodily functions? As long as I live, I’ll never understand them. Leaving aside contemplation of the male brain, I went to get ready for work.

  Leaving Alex at the kitchen table, I padded back to the bathroom in my fuzzy slippers and took a shower. Afterward, I donned my meter maid outfit and did my makeup and hair in my typical madam librarian fashion. I thought of how much fun it was going to be to have myself made up by a professional. I’d like to see Alex try to ignore me and read the paper after I’ve been done up to the nines.

  Stepping out of the bedroom, I gave Alex a kiss on the head. He continued reading. I grabbed my fanny pack with all my things in it and buckled it round my waist.

  “Love you,” Alex called before I could leave. “See you at lunch.”

  On second thought, sometimes men can say just the right thing at just the right time.

  “Love you too,” I called back with a smile.

  I gathered Blue and stepped out into one of God’s most perfect days.

  The birds were singing, attracted to the new bird feeder I’d set out the other day, and the sun was shining. The sky was blue, with the exception of the occasional billowy white cloud. There was a gentle breeze blowing which made it just a touch nippy. It had rained earlier in the morning which made the air clean and crisp. I stood and sampled it deeply before leading Blue around the side of the house to my tricycle. That’s where I hit the first snag in my day.

  Someone had let the air out of all my tires. The rubber hadn’t been slashed, and the valve stems were still intact, so it wasn’t a big deal to grab the hand pump from the garage and reinflate the tires. It just took time. It was also troubling to think that malicious kids might be targeting my property.

  With the tires inflated, Blue and I climbed onboard and took off to experience the beautiful new day. I pedaled my trike through my sleepy little neighborhood with my dog at my side in the red sidecar and waved to neighbors who were out collecting newspapers or beginning to garden. I barely made it to the second corner before Jacky MacKay burst out into the street to run beside me.

  “Blue, Blue,” he called repeatedly in his excitement to see my dog.

  “Woof, woof,” Blue replied, enthusiastically wagging her tail while barely able to maintain her seat.

  I dutifully pulled to the side of the street and allowed the two to greet each other properly. Jacky was soon on his back receiving a tongue bath while he giggled. Eventually Jacky sat upright and Blue leaned into his arms to be hugged more fully. Having received an adequate dose of dog, Jacky eventually jumped up and ran back down the sidewalk.

  “Bye, Chloe,” he called to me with a wave over his shoulder, followed by, “Pumpkins after Easter,” expressing the passage of time in the only way he knew how.

  I smiled at Jacky’s remark, and then Blue and I climbed back onto the trike and continued our ride. Eventually, we arrived on Main Street, which looks a lot like Main Street USA in Disneyland, it’s so quaint and picturesque. The elm trees that lined Main Street were in full leaf and several shop owners were out on the sidewalks opening their doors to business. Colorful goods filled up the windows, luring shoppers inside.

  I waved to Mrs. Gambino who was cleaning the box-window of the Bagel Bin and Mrs. Everett who was early opening What Lies Beneath, our local lingerie store. I eventually pulled to the curb in front of Big Daddy’s Donut Shop to get a cup of coffee, the coffee at the station often being lethally black. I ordered Blue to stay on the trike while I went inside.

  I opened the door of the shop to find several ladies from the garden club gathered round a table discussing plans for an upcoming flower show.

  “Good morning, Chloe,” the ladies called in unison as I inched my way past them.

  “Good morning, ladies,” I replied.

  “You know, Chloe, one of these days you’re going to have to join us,” added Aunt Dot as I passed.

  This wasn’t the first time that Aunt Dot had tried to draft me into her garden club. As I’d already explained to her in the past, with the exception of growing pumpkins, I had a black thumb when it came to gardening. Rather than explain this again, I simply smiled, nodded my head, and continued to the counter. There I encountered a young man wearing a goatee and a beaming smile.

  “Good day, how may I help you,” he bubbled.

  “I’d like a nonfat, decaf café mocha, no whipped cream,” I explained.

  “Excellent choice,” he observed before turning away to prepare my steaming hot beverage.

  I don’t know why, but I took delight in the fact that this odd young man approved of my coffee selection. This was possibly due to the fact that Alex referred to my common choice of a light beverage as café mocha, hold-the-fun. Of course, that was why he was eating oatmeal and I was having a mocha.

  I turned and watched the ladies’ discussion backed by the sun shining down on Main Street where my dog waited and felt an upwelling of love for my hometown.

  “One nonfat, decaf café mocha, no whipped cream,” the young man said, placing my order on the counter. “Would you like a sleeve and a stopper?”

  “Both, please.”

  The experience having been fully prepared, I removed the stopper and lifted the lidded cup to my mouth. As I did so, I could smell its savory aroma escaping out the little sipping slot. I placed the slot to my lips and sipped. I was almost knocked off my feet by the impact of the drink’s deliciousness. I moaned in satisfaction.

  “Another satisfied customer,” the young man observed.

  “Thanks,” I replied, dropping my change into the tip jar. “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “I’m Norm, Norm Cooper,” he replied with an easy smile.

  “Chloe Boston here.”

  “Oh, I know you. You’re the one who solves all the criminal cases in town.”

  “I wouldn’t say that I solve them all,” I replied, feeling embarrassed at the recognition.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Officer Chloe.”

  “Just Chloe will do. It’s been nice to meet you too, Norm.”

  I turned from the counter and headed for the door. This meant having to slip back past the garden club. We exchanged a few simple pleasantries before saying our goodbyes. Then I was back out the door turning my face up to the sun. When I looked back down, I spotted Dr. Plante and Elvira Smith walking hand in hand together. Now what’s that about? Perhaps it was only the natural result of spring being in the air.

  I walked back to my tricycle where Blue was waiting for me in the sidecar. To tell the truth, she was asleep. Looking down at her, snoring on the floorboards of the sidecar, I was forced to admit that my dog was growing older. She had developed white hair around the muzzle and seemed to sleep a great deal. I had to push away concerns for her when it dawned on me that I was becoming maudlin. I slipped my cup of java into the cup holder newly mounted to the handlebars. Pedaling away from the curb, I signaled and merged with traffic.

  Blue waited for me in my office; by that I mean she slept beneath the desk I share with my fellow meter maid, Jeffrey Little, while I attended the morning meeting. This morning’s meeting was to be run by Officer Bryce. I like Bryce, but he can’t run a meeting. Perhaps things were made ungovernable by the fact that everyone knew the Chief was grooming Bryce as his replace
ment should anything happen to the Chief or even should he eventually retire. The assignment would only be temporary until the city council had voted in a new chief, but in that contest Bryce would have a leg up on anyone else interested in the position. His fellow officers resented the Chief’s selection, especially Gordon. But no one resented a display of tenuously uncertain authority as much as the public works guys.

  “There’s rumor going around that the new development downtown is already way over budget and about to go bust,” Keith Regan began the meeting. “Well if so, I want to know if we’re still going to get paid for all these work orders in support of the new building.”

  “I’m sure your men will get paid, Keith,” Bryce argued. “Now, do we have any real business to discuss?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got something to discuss,” Regan replied. “Since when do you get off deciding what’s real business and what’s not?”

  The meeting looked to be getting off to a bad start. The argument became heated and it was soon obvious that it would take several minutes to resolve the issue that Bryce thought he already resolved. I looked to Jeffrey who slouched down in his seat, put his finger to his forehead, and pulled the trigger.

  So much for having a perfect day.

  Chapter 3

  I arrived home feeling a tad bit tired but upbeat. My patrol had been pleasant enough and thankfully uneventful. I’d shared lunch in the park with Blue, dining on a ham sandwich and carrots. Blue loves carrots. Finally, I’d stopped off on my way home from work at the Market on Market for the makings of eggplant Parmesan. With my arms full of groceries, I let Blue and myself in through the front door of our home, flung the door closed with my heel, and dropped my keys onto the hall table. I deposited the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and started to unpack. A quick check of the answering machine showed there had been no calls.

  I began dinner by washing and cutting each eggplant into slices, salting the slices, and laying them on plates with paper towels over them and below them to blanch most of the bitterness out of each slice. While the eggplant cured, I made the olive oil and balsamic vinegar salad dressing and stored it in the fridge. Then I began cleaning and cutting the vegetables for the salad.

  Alex didn’t arrive home until after I’d applied a crumb coating to my eggplant slices and fried them in olive oil. He stepped over the threshold into our abode and announced himself while I was layering eggplant, mozzarella cheese, and house brand bottled arrabiata sauce into one of my deceased grandmother’s finest ceramic baking pans.

  “Chloe, I’m home!”

  “I’m in the kitchen!” I called back.

  “I can smell you in the kitchen, and you smell wonderful.”

  I knew Alex wouldn’t come directly into the kitchen. Instead, he’d prefer to put on a little mood music and pour himself a drink from a rolling minibar I’d bought him for his birthday. The built-in cooler keeps ice frozen and mixers cool even on the hottest days. Dropping off his briefcase in his office on the way to the bedroom, he’d take a shower and change into a more casual short sleeve shirt and a pair of Dockers. I hoped that he would also wear that lovely Grey Flannel cologne that I like so much. Then he’d step into the kitchen and wrap his arms around my waist and kiss me on the neck. I’d be sure to have my back to him and act surprised before snuggling back against him.

  I was surprised when only one hand slipped around my waist. The other hand was holding an envelope up before my face. He’d sure succeeded in getting my attention.

  “What is that?” I asked, trying hard not to grab the envelope out of his hand and take a peek inside.

  “Tickets.”

  I grew even more interested and a little excited.

  “Tickets for what?”

  “Tickets to the most marvelous night of your life.”

  “You’re taking me to the ballet,” I blurted like a complete idiot.

  “Not that marvelous,” Alex said, taking the tickets away from my face, causing me to turn in an attempt to track their location.

  Finally looking up into Alex’s eyes, I could see that he was disappointed I’d guessed wrong. I should have just shut up and played along. Sometimes we girls can be foolishly insensitive.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” I tried to assure him. “I just like being taken out. Do I get to dress up?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said, strolling away from the kitchen.

  I followed. The first thing I discovered was that in addition to turning on some mood music, pouring himself a drink, and showering—he’d even worn my favorite cologne—he had set the table in the dinette for an intimate dinner for two. He set the envelope on the table, leaning it back against a square box tied up in a pretty ribbon. As I watched he lit the candles. Then he poured a second glass of wine and handed it to me.

  “What’s in the box?” I tried to ask casually.

  “You can’t stand not knowing, can you?” he taunted.

  “Oh, Alex, tell me already,” I insisted.

  “Open the box first,” he said, handing it to me.

  I know that I should have marveled over the pretty ribbon, and even tried to save it. I know that I should have shaken the box and tried in vain to guess what was inside. I didn’t. I pulled the ribbon open and cast it aside. Deftly slipping the lid, I laid the box on the table so I could more easily examine its contents. I reached inside to push away the tissue paper and found two items.

  A deerstalker hat and a curved briar and porcelain meerschaum pipe, both made famous by the famed detective Sherlock Holmes.

  “I don’t understand,” I was forced to admit.

  “It’s a murder mystery dinner,” Alex explained. “Mr. Jackman and I talked it over and we decided to combine the bachelor party, the bachelorette party, the bridal shower, and whatever else is required into a single event. We’re holding the event at the Morningside Inn, at their yearly murder mystery dinner.”

  Of course I’d heard of the dinner. People had been trying to get me to go for years. For one reason or another, prior commitments or the cost, I’d failed to go. I felt my heart beat a little faster at the thought of actually appearing this year. It wasn’t all pleasure.

  “A bunch of people in town are going. Mr. Jackman and I reserved a table and invited our usual mystery party crowd. Tara Lee is even planning on attending.”

  “But why the hat and pipe?”

  “We play as tables of ten. Each table is represented by a famous detective character. We are table Sherlock Holmes. We don the trappings of our character before addressing the other tables officially.”

  “Oh Alex, I don’t know about this.”

  “What else do you need to know?”

  I wasn’t sure how to explain my sensitivity to revealing my odd talent to the entire town. I knew that people would be watching me all evening, trying to catch a lead from my actions and to stay one step ahead of me. And then, when I solved the crime, people would say that I had an unfair advantage. These were certainly things to consider.

  “I think it’s a marvelous idea for a wedding party, I just don’t know if it’s right for me.”

  “Well, you’re going and that’s that,” Alex insisted, taking the deerstalker hat from my hands and slapping it down on my head. “What’s more, you’ll have a lovely night with friends, you’ll get to investigate a murder, and when you ultimately solve the murder you’ll be terribly embarrassed. By the end of the evening you’ll have had the time of your life.”

  Trying to see Alex’s reaction from under the extended brim of my hat, I smiled as I placed the end of the pipe between my teeth and contemplated his words. I decided he was probably right about the party, I would have fun. But then you never know.

  Chapter 4

  “You don’t think it makes me look fat?” I asked, standing in my bridesmaid’s suit in front of the three-way mirror.

  “No, dear. I think it makes you look lovely,” said Mrs. Graves, the glowing bride-to-be.r />
  Maybe that was the problem, I thought. Yes, I liked the suit, but there was nothing that I was going to try on today that would give me the look I saw in Agatha Graves’ eyes. She was in love and about to experience that special day that all women cherish and all men must endure if they are to win those women. It wasn’t just that she seemed happy all the time; truth be told she looked happier in Lawrence’s presence. It was that she seemed so proud and confident in her decision to get married. She was a mature woman about to tie the knot with the love of her life. You would think her situation would be throwing her for a loop.

  I didn’t know much about Agatha’s background. She didn’t talk much about her past. I knew that she had once written murder mysteries and had joined the Lit Wits in an attempt to reignite the flame, but I sensed she joined more for the social interaction—her heart just wasn’t in writing anymore. I also knew that this would not be the first time she’d been married. The previous time had also been to the love of her life. Wasn’t it nice when it worked out that way?

  “I don’t know how else to explain it,” she had said. “Steve was the love of my young life. Now Lawrence fills that spot.”

  A tear came to my eye as I remembered the conversation.

  “Chloe, you’re crying,” Agatha said in dismay.

  “It’s nothing,” I assured her. “I’m just committing something to memory. Sometimes that makes the eyes tear.”

  Agatha nodded her understanding.

  The suit I wore looked like it was purchased out of Vogue magazine circa 1950. I thought the outfit was stunning but wondered if it looked matronly because of its older style and cut. I assumed I would be wearing my hair up and under a pillbox hat.

  “Now it’s your turn,” I said, stepping away from the mirrors to grab Agatha’s hands and lift her from the viewing chair.

  The moment I’d stepped through the doors at ten sharp, Agatha had insisted that I be the first to try on my dress. She said she needed to build confidence in her style decision. Now it was my chance to see the pièce de résistance—the bride in her bridal gown. I handed her off to her dresser, who whisked her away to the changing room.