Murder Is A Piece Of Cake Part 12

"Then we should pick him up at the airport," Josie said.

"That's sweet, Josie, but a lawyer like Clark expects to be treated like a king. He has a limo meeting him. Whit makes major bucks sculpting Boca babes. Lucky for Mom, he's also a good guy."

"Is this Clark a good lawyer?" Josie asked.

"Remember the Boca Babe Case?" Ted asked.

"Was she the twenty-something wife of the rich old furniture store heir?" Josie asked. "Wasn't she accused of murdering her husband?"

"She was," Ted said. "Most people thought she did. Shel Clark got her acquitted. She not only inherited the old man's millions, but Shel helped sell her life story for another two million.

"He's the best in South Florida," Ted said. "How well he'll play in St. Louis is another question."

"I wish your mom had been more tactful," Josie said.

"Mom has a lot of fine qualities, but tact isn't one of them," Ted said. "Whit says he likes smart, forthright women."

"Is your stepfather coming here?"

"Can't. He really did break his ankle on the golf course," Ted said. "His ortho doctor says he has to stay off it for four weeks. He won't even let him do surgery."

"Who'll take care of Whit now that your mom can't come home?" Josie asked.

"Mrs. Garcia, their live-in housekeeper," Ted said. "Their chauffeur will drive him. If he's lucky, Whit will get to come here for our wedding."

Our wedding. Less than a month away. Josie knew even the best lawyer couldn't get Lenore acquitted on a murder charge in that time, and Lenore couldn't get bail for murder.

Ted and Josie couldn't walk down the aisle with Lenore in jail.

Josie had one more thing to do before their wedding-solve Molly's murder.

Chapter 14.

Thursday, October 25 Jane had her garden supplies spread out on the front porch. Ted and Josie saw the flat of rubbery bronze mums turned toward the morning sun. Lined up on newspaper were a slightly rusty trowel, a three-p.r.o.nged cultivator, and six mousetraps.

Mousetraps?

"Mom, do we have mice out here?" Josie asked.

Ted picked up a trap. "These are the old-school snapping traps," he said. "That long metal spike is dangerous. There are better ways to catch mice."

"I don't want to catch a mouse," Jane said. "I'm after the rat who stole my mums. If he comes back, he'll get a nasty surprise when those traps snap his fingers."

"You'll get a nasty surprise, too," Ted said. "The plant thief can sue you if he's injured."

"Even if he's sticking his hands where they don't belong?" Jane said. "That's ridiculous." She stuck out her jaw. Josie tried not to snicker at her small, furious mother.

"I agree," Ted said, "but it's the law."

"But I have to stop them," Jane said. "Mrs. Mueller planted poison ivy with her mums. It looks pretty. See?" She pointed her trowel toward their neighbor's porch. The trailing red leaves of poison ivy made a handsome frame for her mums. "But I'm not going out into the woods to dig it up."

"Mrs. M better hope her mail carrier isn't allergic to poison ivy," Ted said, "or she'll be picking up her mail at the post office."

"Mom, how much were those mousetraps?" Josie asked.

"Four dollars each," Jane said. "I'm using three traps per pot."

"So you've spent twenty-four dollars to save twenty-five dollars' worth of mums," Josie said.

"Thirty dollars and seventeen cents," Jane said. "It's not the money-it's the principle."

Ted checked his watch. "I have to be at work in an hour, but I think I can help you," he said. "Do you have any canned food?"

"Dog food, tuna, and corn," Jane said. "I use the little cans of tuna. Take your pick."

"I'll need six cans. Tuna would be best," Ted said. "I'll help you wash them."

Josie followed Ted and Jane upstairs. Jane emptied the three-ounce cans of tuna into a plastic container. Then Ted peeled off the labels and washed them while Josie dried. Next, Ted used an ice pick to poke holes in the bottoms of the cans and threaded three each on a piece of string. The cans clanged against one another.

"They're noisy," Jane said.

"That's the idea," Ted said. "Let's go bury these in your plants' roots. Anyone who tries to pull up your mums will make enough noise to wake you or Stuart."

"In that case, I've got some old jingle bells in the junk drawer," Jane said, rooting through it. "Here. Use these, too."

"Only if you promise to call 911 if you hear the trespa.s.ser," Ted said.

"Deal," Jane said. "I'm so lucky to have you as my son."

"You already treat me like one," Ted said.

Better than his own mother, Josie thought, then felt her heart contract. What if the wedding couldn't go off because Lenore was in jail? She couldn't bring herself to discuss that possibility with Ted.

Instead, she asked another question she never thought she'd say. "We're seeing Lenore at the county jail tonight, right? Seven o'clock?"

"I'll pick you up at six thirty," Ted said. "And now I really do have to go." His voice was soft with love and reluctance.

"I think I hear my cell phone," Jane said, and disappeared inside.

Ted gave her such a deep kiss, she wanted to say, Forget the big wedding and let's elope today. But she knew Amelia wanted her to have a real wedding with real photos.

Jane rattled her front door, and Ted and Josie parted. She watched wistfully as he drove off in his tangerine Mustang.

"More wedding errands today?" Jane asked.

"Always," Josie said. "And I still have Harry the Horrible's gift, those wedding-related mystery-shopping a.s.signments. I'd better get going."

Josie never left home now without her wedding plan notebook. She kept it next to her bed. She collected it, along with the mystery-shopping material Harry had faxed her. She almost made it out the door when her cell phone played the tune that was starting to grate on her nerves.

It was Alyce. "Josie, I saw the story about Lenore's arrest. How awful. What really happened?"

"She's in the county jail," Josie said. "Whit, Ted's stepfather, flew in the best lawyer in Boca."

"The best lawyer in St. Louis would have worked better," Alyce said.

"I know that, but Lenore thinks this city is the frontier. I'm worried she'll be in jail on our wedding day. I can't marry her son if she isn't at the wedding."

"Oh, sweetie, what are you going to do?"

"Try to figure out who killed Molly."

"The police won't like that," Alyce said.

"Then they should have arrested the real killer," Josie said.

"I told you Molly's sister lives in Wood Winds," Alyce said. "Molly's body has been released. The visitation is tonight and the funeral is tomorrow. We can go to the funeral together."

"Do you think Emily will recognize me from TV?"

"That big-brimmed hat hid your face," Alyce said. "If anyone asks, you're my best friend, Joanie."

"I'll do it," Josie said. "The visitation could be risky, but there will be a bigger crowd at the funeral. We can sit in the back. Where is it?"

"St. Clifton's Church on Ballas Road. I'll meet you there at nine thirty Friday morning."

Josie studied Harry's notes for her mystery-shopping a.s.signment at Flowers by Namorita. She was supposed to order flowers for the tables at a mythical reception and get a contract.

"Don't sign contract," the notes said, "and get all quotes in writing." There was one cryptic note for Flowers by Namorita. "Unusual designs. Rumors of possible scam." Trust Harry not to give her any extra clues.

Flowers by Namorita was on Manchester Road, but a far different section than Josie's segment in Maplewood. Manchester Road ran more than one hundred twenty miles through the state of Missouri. Flowers by Namorita was in Wildwood. That part of St. Louis County had lived up to its name when Josie was a girl. Now it was turning into a tame suburb.

Josie liked the shop and its spare j.a.panese decor, but not the cloying scent of hothouse flowers. A thin woman in black greeted Josie.

"I'm Namorita. How may I help you?"

Josie guessed Namorita was an elegant fifty and thought her sophisticated style needed a cigarette holder.

"I want to order flowers for my wedding reception," Josie said. "I didn't like the choices the florist who's doing my wedding offered. They were too old-fas.h.i.+oned. I heard that you do creative designs."

"What's your price range?" Namorita asked. Her shrewd eyes seemed to size up Josie and weigh her wallet. A fas.h.i.+onable woman like Namorita would know Josie was wearing last season's s.h.i.+rt. Her black pants were good quality, but not an up-to-the minute style. Her flats were the best-French Sole, spotted at a garage sale in the rich neighborhood of Ladue.

"I'm so lucky," Josie said. "My future mother-in-law is paying for the reception flowers and she says money is no object."

Did a flash of greed flicker in Namorita's eyes? Josie couldn't tell. She felt so carefree saying, "Money is no object"-and getting paid to do it.

"The problem is my wedding is less than a month away," Josie said. "It's the day after Thanksgiving."

"That's not a problem," Namorita said. "It's an opportunity. Let's look at some of our sample books. What are your colors?"

"Red, white, and pink," Josie said.

"Good," Namorita said. "Start with our red arrangements here."

Josie paged through dizzying displays of roses, lilies, chrysanthemums, carnations, and tulips, until they blurred into crimson blobs. "Wait!" she said. "I like that arrangement-red tulips surrounded by a cuff of white orchids in the tall gla.s.s vase. It's exactly what I'm looking for-simple, dramatic, unusual."

"Excellent choice," Namorita said. "Now, how many arrangements do you need?"

"Twenty tables with one vase each," Josie said. "And four vases for the head table, so twenty-four. It's hard to tell in the picture, but how many flowers are in that arrangement?"

"Six Radiantly Red tulips and five white Phalaenopsis. Those are moth orchids," Namorita said. She punched the keys on a black calculator and showed Josie a figure. Josie hoped her eyeb.a.l.l.s didn't pop and her eyebrows leap up.

"That should do," Josie said.

"Good," Namorita said. "I'll prepare the contract."

She returned with a contract that said Josie wanted twenty-four arrangements of Radiantly Red tulips and white Phalaenopsis (moth orchids) along with the price she'd quoted Josie.

"Now you fill in your information and the hall where you'd like the arrangements delivered," Namorita said, "as well as your payment information."

"I need to show this to my mother-in-law," Josie said. "She's paying. I'll fax it back to you." When those Phalaenopsis turn into real moths, she thought.

All the way to the next florist, Josie's encounter with Namorita nagged at her. Something was wrong with that contract, but she couldn't figure out what.

Gretchen's Flowers and Gifts was in Rock Hill, a community much closer to Josie's home. This flower shop was in a brick cottage. Once again, the bell jangled. This time a motherly woman with a comfortable bosom and softly graying hair met Josie at the door.

"I'm Gretchen," she said. "How can I help you, dear?"

Josie repeated her "money is no object" pitch, but Gretchen didn't get the slightly feral look that Namorita had.

"It's lovely that your mother-in-law is so generous, but you mustn't take advantage of her," Gretchen said. "That's no way to start your marriage. Let me give you this list of wedding flowers in season this time of year. And don't turn up your nose at chrysanthemums and marigolds. I can do clever things with them. Zinnias are interesting, and so are asters and dahlias, and I'm very creative with dried leaf accents and candles."

Gretchen might appear motherly, but her designs were edgy. Josie paged through her sample book and finally settled on an arrangement of red dahlias and white zinnias with white tea lights.

"I like that," she said.

"Good choice," Gretchen said. "It's striking, but the arrangement is not so big it will overwhelm your tables. Your guests will be able to chat with one another."

She showed Josie a price that was one-quarter of the amount quoted by Namorita. "Now let me prepare your contract. My computer's in the back room."

"I can't sign the contract," Josie said. "I'll have to show it to my mother-in-law first."