Jaine Austen Mystery: Killing Cupid Part 14

The Refrigerator made a note on his pad.

I just hoped it wasn't a reminder to order an arrest warrant.

"Do you have any idea who did kill her?" he asked.

Reluctantly I told them about Alyce and the veiled threat she'd made at the party. I couldn't share my suspicions about Tonio, however, not without admitting I'd been crouching amid the dust bunnies under Joy's desk. Somehow I sensed they would not be favorably impressed.

"Well, thank you for your time," the Refrigerator said, hauling himself up from my sofa.

"Yes, thanks," Adam's Apple added, trying to extricate himself from Prozac's lingering embrace.

"I certainly hope I'm not a suspect."

If I'd been expecting rea.s.surances, I was sadly disappointed.

"Just don't leave town," the Refrigerator said.

Ouch.

I ushered them both out and then leaned against the front door with a sigh.

"Dammit, Pro. They think I might have killed Joy. What am I gonna do?"

She looked up from where she was examining her privates.

What you always do in times of stress.

She knew me well.

Without missing a beat, I headed straight for the Oreos.

(It's in the genes.)

Chapter 11.

Joy's memorial service was held at Westwood Mortuary, final resting place of mega-stars like Marilyn Monroe and Natalie Wood, who I'm sure were rolling over in their crypts at the thought of being saddled for all eternity with the G.o.diva G.o.dzilla.

I wish I could say I showed up at the chapel to pay my respects and honor the dead, but the truth is I was hoping to run into someone who'd help me collect the money Joy owed me.

Lest you forget (I sure hadn't), I still hadn't been paid for all my hard work.

I was running late, and the rent-a-reverend conducting the service-a roly-poly man with round, rimless gla.s.ses-was in the middle of his eulogy when I showed up.

As I slid into a pew, I saw the place was practically empty. Just three mourners: Tonio, a blond woman a few rows in front of me, and a pungent guy in tattered clothing across the aisle.

The rent-a-rev had clearly never met Joy, because he was rambling on about what a swell gal she'd been. That he knew nothing about her was cemented by the fact that he kept calling her Joyce.

After winding down his highly fictional words of praise, he peered out at us through his gla.s.ses and asked: "Is there anyone who'd like to say something?"

Across the aisle from me, the pungent fellow's hand shot up.

"I just wanna know," he asked. "Are there gonna be refreshments later?"

"No," replied the rent-a-rev. "I'm afraid not."

"Okay, then," he said. "I'm outta here." Sliding out from his pew, he confided to me, "Sometimes these memorial services put out a spread, you know? Oh, well. Off to the Church of the Good Shepherd. Maybe I'll have better luck there."

And with that, he ambled off to greener pastures.

"Er ... is there anyone else who'd like to say something?" the minister asked when our hungry visitor had gone. "About the deceased?" he quickly added.

At which point the blond woman in front of me got up and headed for the podium.

There was something about her that looked awfully familiar. That thick blond pageboy. That chubby bod. Those tottering high heels.

When she turned to face us, I almost bust a gasket.

Holy mackerel! It was Joy! Back from h.e.l.l!

Even the devil didn't want her!

"h.e.l.lo," the woman said. "I'm Joy's Aunt Faith."

I now saw that the woman was quite a bit older than Joy. But the resemblance was still uncanny.

She cleared her throat, a lacy white hankie balled up in her fist.

"I'll never forget the first time I saw little Joy," she said, her eyes glazed over at the memory. "She was only three years old, and her mother, my sister Eunice, had dressed her in her prettiest pink dress, with matching pink bows in her hair. They'd just moved out from Chicago, and my sister said to Joy, 'Say h.e.l.lo to your Aunt Faith, darling.' And little Joy, in a gesture that would become all too familiar, hauled off and kicked me in the s.h.i.+n.

"Yes," she said with a grim smile, "Joy always was a rotten little kid, and she grew up to be an even more rotten adult."

"Excuse me, ma'am!" cried the rent-a-rev, jumping up from his seat behind the podium. "I'm not sure this is entirely appropriate."

"Hey!" She held out a warning hand. "You asked if anyone had anything to say about the deceased. I do, and I intend to say it."

"But, ma'am-"

"Forget it, buster. I'm not going to sit here and listen while you pretend my niece was anything but a miserable excuse for a human being."

Cowed by her no-nonsense att.i.tude-not to mention her rather muscular upper arms-the rent-a-rev sank back down in his seat, and Aunt Faith continued her "eulogy."

"Joy took the matchmaking business her mother and I had built up over twenty years, and stole it right out from under our feet."

So Joy hadn't been lying when she said that matchmaking ran in her family.

"She drove my poor sister to her grave. But not me. I refused to let Joy's treachery ruin my life. Nope. I picked myself up and started my own jewelry business. From Trash to Treasure. One-of-a-kind baubles made from recycled bottle caps and typewriter parts."

She held out a bracelet made of typewriter keys and dangled it for our approval.

"In conclusion, I just want to say that wherever you are, Joy, I'm sure your chocolates are melting. Big time."

Her typewriter keys clanging, Aunt Faith stepped away from the podium and headed up the aisle, stopping at my pew.

"I've got some earrings that would look darling on you, hon," she said, handing me her business card. And with that, she tottered off.

So stunned was I by her performance, I barely listened as Tonio got up to the podium and talked about Joy. I caught a few phrases here and there ... "a heart of gold" ... "the love of my life" ... "the world will be an empty place without her ..."

Clearly he'd gotten his speech from the Hallmark School of Eulogies. And yet, if I wasn't mistaken, those were genuine tears I saw s.h.i.+mmering in his eyes.

Tonio returned to his chair, and the rent-a-rev, still reeling from Aunt Faith's "eulogy," stumbled back to the podium.

"Anyone else have something to say about the deceased?" he asked, looking at me. "Something positive? "

"Not a thing," I a.s.sured him.

"Well, then. I guess we're done here."

He wrapped up the service with the Twenty-Third Psalm and headed for Tonio with a mournful smile, a.s.suring him that his beloved Joyce was safe in the sheltering arms of the Lord.

Tonio nodded blankly and then made his way up the aisle.

Today there was no trace of his usual lounge lizard good looks. His hair, normally slicked back to gelled perfection, had fallen into messy clumps. His spray tan had faded to a sickly orange. And his big brown bedroom eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

Either he'd been up all night crying.

Or boozing.

I couldn't tell which.

I wasted no time following him out to the parking lot.

"Wait up, Tonio!" I called as he hurried to his car, a splashy silver BMW convertible.

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Jaine," he said, catching sight of me. "Thanks so much for coming to pay your respects. I really appreciate it."

Geez. How was I going to tell him I was only there to see about my paycheck?

"Actually, Tonio, I said, a blush creeping up my face, "I came to ask you a favor. I never did get paid for the work I did for Joy, and I was wondering if you could help me get my money."

"How much did she owe you?"

"Three thousand dollars," I said, too embarra.s.sed to mention the extra five hundred dollars she'd bribed me with to date Skip.

"Three grand?" Tonio snorted in disbelief. "Joy never paid writers that much. I'm sure she would've weaseled out of paying you the full amount."

Suddenly he realized he'd strayed quite a bit from eulogy mode.

"Not that she wasn't a wonderful person," he hastened to add. "Just sort of tight with a buck."

"Of course."

"But don't worry," he said, seeing the stricken look on my face. "I'll talk to her attorney and have him cut you a check for the full amount she promised you."

"Thanks so much, Tonio."

He was being so nice to me, I suddenly felt guilty about suspecting him of killing Joy. And yet I hadn't forgotten about that scene in her office. Sure as I'd been snorting dust bunnies, Joy had been threatening to turn Tonio over to the authorities.

"By the way, Tonio," I said, "I happened to overhear you and Joy talking the night of the murder."

"Oh?" His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Yes, Joy said something about turning you over to the authorities."

Those puffy eyes of his suddenly narrowed in suspicion.

"And just where did you hear all this?"

Oh, h.e.l.l. I couldn't tell him I was hiding under Joy's desk, having just hacked into her e-mail account.

"I was out in the reception area," I fibbed, "and I heard you two talking in Joy's office. Joy, if I recall, was sort of angry."

"So she yelled at me. Big deal. What's it to you?"

d.a.m.n. Whatever goodwill I'd built had just gone sailing out the window.

"It's just that the police stopped by to question me," I said, putting on my tap shoes, "and I don't know what to tell them if they ask me about you. I mean, I can't lie and pretend I didn't hear anything. So I was hoping you could explain what Joy meant when she said she was going to turn you in to the authorities."

"Wait a minute. You don't think I killed her to shut her up, do you?"

"No, of course not," I lied. "But I'm afraid the cops might."

"That's crazy. For your information, Joy was threatening to report me to the DMV for driving without a license."

"That's all?"

"That's all. I failed the written test a couple of years ago. I kept getting a blinking red light confused with a yellow light. Anyhow, I never went back to take the test again."

"So you've been driving without a license all this time?"

"Yeah, and it drove Joy batty. I lied and told her I'd taken the test, and when she found out I hadn't, she went ballistic. You know how she could get."

Did I ever.