Camilla T. Crespi - The Breakfast Club Murder by Camilla T. Crespi

sat, Lori could see the kitchen wall clock. One forty p.m. The train to Grand Central left at two twenty. She started running up the stairs. “I’ll tell you what happened when I come back, okay?”
    “Whatever. I’m always the last to know anything,” Jessica yelled up at her mother.
    “Jess, be fair,” Lori yelled back. “We’ll talk tonight. Okay?” There was silence from downstairs. A boyfriend. How could Jess even think that? Lori stepped into a pair of beige cotton slacks, topped them with a white short-sleeved jersey. She’d show Jess the ruined dress. That should erase any doubts. The gray linen jacket she’d bought in Florence was wrinkled, but the saleswoman had insisted that linen wrinkles were chic. Lori slipped on the jacket. The wrinkles matched her face. She put on another layer of foundation, a pale lipstick, and let thoughts of Alec Winters float back into her mind. How did he know her name and her address? And how did he get that recipe? She tried to remember what he looked like and couldn’t. She’d been terribly rude to him, that she knew. She fluffed up her hair and smiled at her reflection. Damn! Those flowers were softening her resolve to faceValerie. That would never do. She straightened her spine and frowned in the mirror. No jewelry. She wanted to appear severe, strong.
    Lori grabbed her handbag.
    The front door slammed.
    Lori peered down from the upstairs landing. “Jess?” No answer. She skipped down the stairs and checked the kitchen. Jessica had left a note on the kitchen table, held down by the now-empty Coke bottle. “I’m staying over at Angie’s tonight. I only told you three times!!!” The yellow rose, Lori noticed, was sticking out of the garbage where she was sure to notice it.
    Lori walked back to the hallway and pushed her nose against a Casablanca lily. She inhaled deeply and told herself— we’ll be fine. One day. Soon.
    “The doctor’s with a patient. You can’t see her,” Ruth said.
    Lori strode past the desk.
    Ruth half-sat up. “Wait, Mrs. Staunton, I mean, Lori! Stop!”
    Valerie, in a white coat, three-inch heels, and swaying blond hair, sashayed down the corridor. She stopped at the sight of Lori and smiled, showing off her perfect caps, blue-white to match her husband’s. “There’s no point to this,” she said in a soft voice only Lori could hear. “I’m Rob’s wife now. You can’t get him back.”
    Valerie’s words were hot lava pouring down Lori’s throat. For a moment she couldn’t speak. She looked at Valerie’s skinny frame and remembered why she was here. “Stop undermining my daughter. There’s nothing wrong with her weight.”
    Valerie’s eyes traveled down Lori’s body, the smile still hovering on her lips. “Jess has some bad genes to contend with. She needs to watch it. One thing you have to remember now is that Jess may be your daughter, but she’s also Rob’s daughter. And now mine. I can tell her whatever—”
    Lori stepped closer. “She’ll never be your daughter,” she said quietly, then slapped Valerie hard across her smirk.

C HAPTER 8
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    “You didn’t.”
    “I did. And she almost toppled over on her three-inch heels.” Lori had called Beth on the train coming home and now they were sitting in her kitchen, half a bottle of Falanghina sloshing in their empty stomachs. “Who can stand all day in three-inch heels?”
    “What did she do after you slapped her?” Beth asked.
    “She said, ‘You’re pitiful.’ ”
    “Nasty.”
    “I wanted to hit her again but the bulldog nurse was heading straight for me and I got out before I got hauled out.” Lori refilled the wine glasses, took another fortifying gulp, and leaned back in her chair. “Now I’m furious at myself for losing control, for giving her so much power over me.”
    What Lori really wanted to do was sleep and forget the whole episode. She was ashamed of what she’d done. “It felt great for about three seconds.”
    “Let’s think happy