Murder Is A Piece Of Cake Part 3

"Miss Deaver called the clinic more than thirty times in four months with imaginary illnesses for a healthy pet. When I was at her house, she would have the kitchen table set for a snack or a meal. I often don't have time for lunch, so I'd grab a bite and we'd talk."

Humpf, Josie thought. Ted fell right into her trap.

"She liked to discuss her wedding. I thought it was harmless. I told her I was marrying Josie and she wanted the details, so I told her our plans. She talked about hers. She mentioned everything but the groom."

"And you didn't find that suspicious?" Edelson asked.

"Well, lots of brides lose sight of the groom when they plan their weddings. Josie isn't like that, but there aren't many women like Josie."

Josie could hear the warmth in his voice, even through the wall. She smiled.

"I guess you could say I was dense, but even I started getting suspicious," Ted said. "Bella was sick only on the days when I drove the van. If Miss Deaver found out my partner, Chris, had van duty, she'd say Bella felt better and would cancel the appointment. Chris and I discussed it. She said she would handle Bella and Miss Deaver would have to bring her into the clinic. There would be no more house calls.

"That's when Miss Deaver started following me. I'd leave the clinic and find her sitting in her car in the lot here. She'd leave gifts for me with Kathy, our receptionist. She baked cakes and m.u.f.fins. Dozens of m.u.f.fins. One day, after she took Bella to Chris for a checkup, she ambushed me in the hall here and gave me a Rolex watch. I told her to take it back. She said she couldn't. She'd had it engraved with what she called *our anniversary date'-the day I'd spayed Bella."

"She thought that was your anniversary?" Officer Edelson asked.

"Sad, isn't it?" Ted said. "I did everything to help her see reality. I showed her photos of Josie. I talked about the afternoon I'd asked Josie to marry me. I told her how much I loved Josie. It didn't do any good.

"I kept thinking if I ignored her, she'd get discouraged and go away. But she didn't. The more I refused to see Miss Deaver, the more she was convinced I wanted to marry her. She wouldn't stop following me."

"She wasn't following you, Doctor," Edelson said. "She was stalking you. That's a crime in all fifty states. You should have reported it to the police."

"I thought only women have stalkers," Ted said.

"Men who stalk women are more common," the officer said. "Male stalkers tend to be more dangerous. But two percent of the men in this country have been stalked by women."

"You know a lot about stalkers," Ted said.

"It's a serious problem," Edelson said. "Our department got a grant to send me to a seminar. Stalking is often tied in with domestic abuse. Miss Deaver has a.s.saulted you with a deadly weapon, so she's already demonstrated she is dangerous."

"What can I do now?" Ted asked.

"Press charges for a.s.sault," the officer said.

"I can't," Ted said. "She needs a psychiatrist."

"We can lock her up for seventy-two hours in a mental health facility," Edelson said.

"That will get her the help she needs," Ted said. "But I feel sorry for her."

"That's dangerous," Edelson said. "What if she harms your fiancee? In her mind, she may believe getting rid of Miss Marcus will set you free to marry her."

"No!" Ted said. "That's crazy. Josie has an eleven-year-old daughter. What can I do to protect them? Miss Deaver is already barred from the clinic."

"You saw how well that worked this morning," Officer Edelson said. "You need to file charges for a.s.sault, Doctor. She needs a dose of reality. Does she have family here?"

"I don't know," Ted said. "I know very little about her."

"Well, her family needs to take steps to get her the care she needs. Meanwhile, you should develop a paper trail doc.u.menting evidence of stalking so we can prosecute her. We'll need your phone records, her dog's charts and bills, and the logs of your phone calls."

"I'll get you my cell phone records," Ted said. "Our receptionist, Kathy, will get you the clinic records. Christine and Kathy will both testify that she's been a nuisance."

"Do you have photos or security tapes of Miss Deaver waiting in your clinic lot?" Edelson asked.

"No," Ted said.

"You definitely gave her back the watch?"

"Yes," Ted said. "But I remember the jeweler's name on the box."

"That's a start," Edelson said. "You can also take out a restraining order, though in my experience that won't make the stalker go away."

"What does?" Ted asked. Josie could hear the fear in his voice.

"Most stalkers don't respond to treatment," he said. "They simply move their fixation from one love object to another. Many experts recommend that you move to another state."

Josie wondered if they could hear her gasp through the wall. She could practically see Ted running his fingers through his unruly brown hair. She heard him pacing the small room.

"What! I have to give up my life and my veterinary practice because of a crazy woman?" Ted said.

"You'll have to give it up anyway, Doctor. If she's seriously delusional, only death will stop her."

Chapter 4.

Tuesday, October 23 Molly Deaver's screams were torn from her heart. "No! You can't arrest me. I'm the victim. What did I do to deserve this?"

She's not acting, Josie thought. She really believes Ted loves her. She wrapped her arms possessively around her fiance, as if Molly could take him away.

The deluded bride shrieked again, and Josie felt Ted flinch. Josie patted his hand and whispered, "I know this is painful for you, but the arrest is the best way to get her the help she needs."

"She's insane," Lenore said, not bothering to lower her voice. "Ted has no reason to feel guilty."

The large open surgery seemed crowded. Molly's dress, suitable for a Victorian ball, took up most of the floor. Lenore, Ted, and Josie leaned against a cabinet, as far away from Molly as they could get. Crouched beside a counter, Bill Madfis was taping the scene, while Rona, the producer, muttered instructions. Officer Edelson didn't seem to notice the Channel Seven photographer. He was trying to reason with Molly.

"You stabbed Dr. Scottsmeyer with a scalpel, Miss Deaver," Officer Edelson said. "That's a felony a.s.sault. Dr. Scottsmeyer is pressing charges."

"He doesn't mean it," Molly said. "Tell him, Ted." Her denim blue eyes, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears, pleaded for his help.

The police officer didn't give Ted a chance to answer. "I'm afraid that's for the court to decide," Edelson said.

"But what will happen to Bella, my little dog?" She cuddled her pet like a baby.

"Yap!" said the Maltese.

"We can call animal control," the officer said.

"No!" Molly wept.

Ted started to say, "I could-," but Josie guessed he was offering to take care of Bella. "Don't offer," she said. "You'll only enforce her delusion."

"Don't you dare," his mother said. She gripped Ted's arm.

He nodded. "You're right," he said.

Officer Edelson said, "Do you have a family member we can contact, Miss Deaver?"

"Yes, my sister," Molly said, sniffling. "Emily Deaver Destin. I don't have my cell phone with me, but she's waiting at the church. She must be frantic by now."

"Officer Phillips will make the call," Edelson said.

Molly recited her sister's cell phone number in a shaky voice. Phillips punched it in and retreated to an exam room to make the call.

"Ted, won't you change your mind?" Molly asked. "For the sake of our love? Look Bella in the eye when you answer."

Lenore gripped Ted's arm so hard, Josie was afraid she'd leave bruises, but Ted didn't seem to notice. Josie gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "Be strong," she whispered. "It's the only way to help her."

"Molly, I don't love you," Ted said in a soft voice. "I can't marry you. I'm marrying Josie."

Tears rained down Molly's face, was.h.i.+ng away her expensive makeup. She kissed her dog and said, "You're an orphan now, Bella. Daddy doesn't want us anymore."

"Don't answer her," Lenore said through gritted teeth. "You can't win an argument with a crazy woman."

Ted stayed silent, to Josie's relief.

The exam room door opened and Officer Phillips said, "Your sister is on her way to take custody of your dog. I told her we'd leave it here in a cage." He reached for the fluffy white dog.

"She's going to be locked up, just like her mommy," Molly said, kissing Bella on her head. More tears threatened.

Lenore gave an unladylike snort.

"It's time to go, Miss Deaver," Officer Edelson said gently.

"May I freshen up, please?" Molly asked. "The ladies' room is right across the hall."

"Officer Phillips will wait outside the door," Edelson said.

Ten minutes later, Molly emerged, looking like she'd stepped off the cover of a bride's magazine. Somehow, she'd combed her blond hair and repaired her makeup. She gave Officer Edelson a heartbroken smile and squared her shoulders.

"I'm ready," she said.

"If you go quietly, I won't cuff you," he said.

She upped her smile to radiant. He put his hand on her elbow and escorted her out of the clinic surgery. Madfis followed with his camera trained on the couple, a grotesque parody of a wedding photographer.

He was back five minutes later, grinning. "I got the money shot-the bride getting into the cop car, with the Bentley in the background."

"Good work, Bill," said producer Rona Richley. "Now, Mrs. Scottsmeyer Hall, we'd like to talk to you about that pearl-handled pistol."

Lenore looked absurdly pleased. She checked her makeup in her compact mirror, fluffed her already perfect hair, and pulled out her pistol.

"I always carry my weapon in my purse for self-protection," she said. She held her pearl-handled pistol as if it were a piece of fine jewelry.

Madfis, the Channel Seven photographer, pointed his lens at the s.h.i.+ning silver gun.

"Pretty, isn't it?" she asked. "Pretty deadly. I don't carry this for looks. It's a weapon-a snub-nose thirty-eight."

Lenore was a natural for television. The bridal invasion at the clinic had been dramatic and potentially deadly, but Lenore seemed unruffled. She faced the camera, relaxed and comfortable, looked it right in the eye, and smiled at it like a lover.

The camera loved her back. Josie could see Lenore on producer Rona Richley's monitor. Television gave Ted's mother an actressy glamor and newfound youth. She barely looked forty on the small screen. It was a tribute to her style and her second husband's plastic surgery skills.

Lenore pointed to the pistol's inlaid-pearl grip with a manicured nail. "These are my initials in silver. LSH-Lenore Scottsmeyer Hall. My son, Dr. Ted Scottsmeyer, says I use too many monograms, but I want everyone to know this is my weapon."

Ted, standing next to a cabinet, winced at the mention of his name. Josie patted his hand and he smiled at her. She thought he was too pale. The blood spot on his s.h.i.+rt collar had dried and his thick hair stuck up. Josie smoothed it back into place.

"Don't underestimate this little beauty," Lenore was saying. "It's small but deadly. This thirty-eight is a self-defense handgun for close quarters, designed to be easily concealed. It fits right in here."

Lenore held up her black Chanel purse with the signature double Cs. "If necessary, I can fire right through this," she said. "But I'd hate to ruin a good purse."

She laughed, dismissing her deadly skill as a charming eccentricity. Rona smiled at her. The Channel Seven producer was crouched behind Bill, the photographer, nodding encouragement to Lenore. Rona had explained that she'd ask Lenore questions, but they would be edited out of the actual TV interview. She didn't need to ask many. Lenore almost interviewed herself.

Josie thought Lenore gave her gun lesson with professional polish, except she ignored the most basic safety rule: Never point a gun at anyone. Lenore aimed her thirty-eight straight at Bill. The photographer didn't flinch.

"A short-barreled revolver like this is useful for its speed," Lenore said. "I can draw, sight, and fire by the time an attacker with a long-barreled gun is still trying to get me in his sights."

She stuffed the snub-nose back into her purse. "I'm licensed to carry concealed and I practice religiously. I can empty my weapon into a pie plate at seven yards in five seconds-including the time it takes to draw it from this purse. I practice, practice, practice. I have to. That's the mistake most people make. They buy a gun and then don't practice. That laziness will cost you your life.

"I practice point shooting, too. If I'm threatened and have to fire at close range, I may not have time to align the sights. I can pull out this gun, look over the top of it, hopefully get the front sight on the target and shoot."

Lenore whipped the gun out of her purse and once again pointed it at the camera. Josie winced and backed away. The photographer moved in closer. Bill was either fearless or foolish.

"I prefer the sighted fire method," Lenore said, "but I'm prepared to defend myself when I don't have that luxury. I believe self-protection is an important women's issue."

The chunky Rona nodded and her dark hair danced. Bill kept the tape rolling as he focused on the .38.

"I carry my pistol in a purse instead of a holster, but it's just as deadly as any man's long barrel," Lenore said. "Maybe deadlier, because I can open my purse quicker than he can unsnap his holster. Besides, I'm an expert shot."

Josie didn't think Lenore was bragging, not from the confident way she handled that pistol. Ted stifled a groan. Rona nodded like a dashboard dog. Josie wondered if the frizzy-haired TV producer was as enthusiastic about concealed weapons away from Lenore's spell.

"Why do you carry a gun?" Rona asked her.