mood if she felt inspired to dress like the Queen of Sheba on a Sunday morning. Her au pair must be watching her seven-year-old son, unfortunately; I enjoyed the little boy immensely. Stephanie shot a withering glare at Betty Cocker, who continued to bark.
Finding my voice, I said, “Hi, Stephanie. We were just talking about you.”
She stepped inside and said, “We’ll leave your conversation up to my imagination, all right? Hello, Lauren.”
“Stephanie,” Lauren said with a nod. She’d returned to the living room to give me moral support. Unfortunately, BC immediately quieted down.
“It’s probably good that you’re here, Lauren,” Stephanie said. “We need to discuss what we’re going to do.”
“About . . . ?” I prompted.
“Solving Patty’s murder, of course.” She swept past us and took a seat in the recliner, known in my house as “the big chair” from the days when my children were little enough to cuddle with me there.
I looked at Lauren, who gave me a slight one-shoulder shrug, then took a seat on the love seat and pulled a white paper napkin and a pink-colored muffin out of her bag, which she handed to me. I took a seat beside her as she held out a second muffin to Stephanie, who shook her head. BC was rapt in front of her, her little brown eyes pleading for the muffin that Stephanie had declined.
“As you both no doubt recall, at that ungodly hour yesterday morning when I ran into you in the school parking lot, I said something about wanting to kill Patty. Needless to say, that was just a figure of speech, and I’m completely innocent.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, taking a bite of Lauren’s homemade muffin. “This is delicious. You don’t know what you’re missing, Stephanie.”
“Alas.” She leaned back in her seat and studied my face. “We all know that you’re going to look into this murder, Molly. You always do. So I thought I’d offer you some assistance.”
“Why?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think that I’m going to sit back and allow the gossipmongers to carry on at will, do you?”
“What are people saying about you?” Lauren asked. “That you did it?”
“I doubt anyone has
that
much misplaced nerve, no. Just that I . . . instigated it. Thanks to my making the meeting so inflammatory.”
“They may have a point, there, Stephanie,” I interjected. “I mean, obviously you didn’t mean to get Patty murdered, but you could have handled the whole thing a bit more gently.”
“More gently, you say? I was supposed to pussyfoot around when that . . . when Patty set me up to look like a complete bitch?”
That actually was an insult to my wonderful little female dog, but I decided not to call Stephanie on it. “You didn’t look like a
complete
bitch. But my point is that people wouldn’t have gotten so upset if you’d warned them about how they came off on the video, or if you’d allowed us to view the tape individually, in the privacy of our own homes, and then called a meeting to discuss it once we’d calmed down.”
She examined her fingernails. “That was precisely how I told Patty I wished to proceed, but she insisted we do it as a group at her house. Anyway, what is important is that it seems as though this entire town has the misconception that I was jealous of Patty Birch. That’s ludicrous. The best way to dispel such nonsense is if I play an active part in solving her murder.”
“Stephanie, I just don’t see—”
“Don’t argue with me, Molly. My mind is made up. You’ve done this before, so tell me—what’s the first step toward figuring out who the murderer is?”
“Jeez, Stephanie. I don’t know.” I glanced at Lauren, whose lips were pursed. “You just . . . try to talk to people in Patty’s social circles . . . her menopause support group, for example. You figure out who had such a fractured relationship with her that they might have resorted to violence.”
“That makes sense. Three heads are definitely
Finding my voice, I said, “Hi, Stephanie. We were just talking about you.”
She stepped inside and said, “We’ll leave your conversation up to my imagination, all right? Hello, Lauren.”
“Stephanie,” Lauren said with a nod. She’d returned to the living room to give me moral support. Unfortunately, BC immediately quieted down.
“It’s probably good that you’re here, Lauren,” Stephanie said. “We need to discuss what we’re going to do.”
“About . . . ?” I prompted.
“Solving Patty’s murder, of course.” She swept past us and took a seat in the recliner, known in my house as “the big chair” from the days when my children were little enough to cuddle with me there.
I looked at Lauren, who gave me a slight one-shoulder shrug, then took a seat on the love seat and pulled a white paper napkin and a pink-colored muffin out of her bag, which she handed to me. I took a seat beside her as she held out a second muffin to Stephanie, who shook her head. BC was rapt in front of her, her little brown eyes pleading for the muffin that Stephanie had declined.
“As you both no doubt recall, at that ungodly hour yesterday morning when I ran into you in the school parking lot, I said something about wanting to kill Patty. Needless to say, that was just a figure of speech, and I’m completely innocent.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, taking a bite of Lauren’s homemade muffin. “This is delicious. You don’t know what you’re missing, Stephanie.”
“Alas.” She leaned back in her seat and studied my face. “We all know that you’re going to look into this murder, Molly. You always do. So I thought I’d offer you some assistance.”
“Why?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think that I’m going to sit back and allow the gossipmongers to carry on at will, do you?”
“What are people saying about you?” Lauren asked. “That you did it?”
“I doubt anyone has
that
much misplaced nerve, no. Just that I . . . instigated it. Thanks to my making the meeting so inflammatory.”
“They may have a point, there, Stephanie,” I interjected. “I mean, obviously you didn’t mean to get Patty murdered, but you could have handled the whole thing a bit more gently.”
“More gently, you say? I was supposed to pussyfoot around when that . . . when Patty set me up to look like a complete bitch?”
That actually was an insult to my wonderful little female dog, but I decided not to call Stephanie on it. “You didn’t look like a
complete
bitch. But my point is that people wouldn’t have gotten so upset if you’d warned them about how they came off on the video, or if you’d allowed us to view the tape individually, in the privacy of our own homes, and then called a meeting to discuss it once we’d calmed down.”
She examined her fingernails. “That was precisely how I told Patty I wished to proceed, but she insisted we do it as a group at her house. Anyway, what is important is that it seems as though this entire town has the misconception that I was jealous of Patty Birch. That’s ludicrous. The best way to dispel such nonsense is if I play an active part in solving her murder.”
“Stephanie, I just don’t see—”
“Don’t argue with me, Molly. My mind is made up. You’ve done this before, so tell me—what’s the first step toward figuring out who the murderer is?”
“Jeez, Stephanie. I don’t know.” I glanced at Lauren, whose lips were pursed. “You just . . . try to talk to people in Patty’s social circles . . . her menopause support group, for example. You figure out who had such a fractured relationship with her that they might have resorted to violence.”
“That makes sense. Three heads are definitely
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