Moving Can Be Murder by Susan Santangelo

the mailman, especially if he had a package that had to
be signed for. That meant he had to ring the doorbell.”
    “Things haven’t changed that much, Carol,”
Stacy assured me. “I still look forward to the mailman. Or any
adult at my door these days. Even someone selling magazine
subscriptions.”
    “By the way, did you hear that the police
arrested someone for the hit and run accident at the college?” Liz
asked.
    “Thank God,” Mary Alice said. “I hope they
put him in prison and throw away the key without bothering with a
trial.”
    “That’s a little strong, Mary Alice,” said
Phyllis. “Everyone deserves his day in court, and is innocent until
proven guilty.”
    Mary Alice snorted. “Listen, anyone who
would hit a defenseless person and then drive away and leave her to
die deserves to be locked up for life, as far as I’m concerned. Or,
better yet, executed.” She took a hearty gulp of her red wine.
    The kitchen suddenly was very quiet.
Everyone, it seemed, was listening to this exchange.
    “I don’t agree,” said Phyllis, her cheeks
getting a little pink. “Everyone is entitled to a fair trial.
That’s one of the principles this country was founded on.”
    “My husband Brian was killed in a car
accident by a kid who was driving with only a learner’s permit,”
said Mary Alice. She was so upset now that she was shaking. “The
judge let him off with only two years in jail and five years’
probation. How’s that for justice?
    “That kid ruined my life and my boys’ lives.
I swear, if I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.
    “I mean it.”
    Then she slammed her wine glass down on my
granite counter, grabbed her coat, and left without saying another
word.



Chapter 8
     
    An archeologist is the best husband any
woman could want.
    The older she gets, the more interesting she
is to him.
     
    “I’ve never seen Mary Alice so upset,” I
said to My Beloved. It was Valentine’s Day and we were finally
going to have some time to ourselves. I was filling Jim in on the
Bunco party while we enjoyed a pre-dinner glass of merlot in front
of a cozy fire in the living room.
    “It’s nice that Mark’s not working tonight
so he and Jenny can be together,” I continued. “The last few days
have been non-stop, packing her up and helping her move into her
new condo.”
    I reached over and grabbed Jim’s hand. “I
know this has been hard for you, but when she came home last year,
we knew she wouldn’t be here forever. And Mark is such a good
guy.”
    “When he’s not suspecting me of bumping
somebody off,” Jim groused. He winked at me to show he wasn’t
serious.
    “I don’t want to talk about Mary Alice, or
even Jenny and Mark, right now,” he said. “I know we usually don’t
make a big deal about Valentine’s Day, but this year, after
everything we’ve been through together, I wanted to get you
something extra special.”
    He handed me a small box. I opened it and
found a strand of cultured pearls and matching bracelet inside.
    “Oh, Jim, I love them,” I said. “I can’t
believe you did this for me. Thank you, so much.” I threw my arms
round My Beloved and gave him the smooch he deserved for such a
romantic gesture.
    “I have something special for you too,” I
said, pulling out the envelope that contained a funny valentine and
the agreement I’d already signed to list our house for sale.
    “Here. Open it,” I said. “I guarantee you’re
going to love it.” I was wriggling with excitement. I love
surprises. As long as they’re happy ones.
    “I hope you didn’t spend too much money,”
Jim said.
    “You are so predictable,” I said. “For your
information, I didn’t spend any money on your gift. But I’m sure
we’re going to make some.”
    Jim looked at me quizzically, then pushed
his glasses up onto his forehead so he could read the card.
Honestly, the man will not admit that he needs bifocals. And women
are supposed to be the vainer sex.
    The valentine featured