Coming Unclued Read online

  What the hell? I used the two dollars to buy a donut and spent the rest of the day just wandering around downtown; free, anonymous. The picture in the paper had been so wretched, no one on the streets seemed to recognize me.

  It was late afternoon when I arrived back at Julie’s. It was already dark enough that Christmas lights were beginning to come on and Andrew’s elves were hard at work. I brushed the snow off the front steps and plunked myself down, contemplating not for the first time, what my life would have been like if I’d married a man like Andrew. Would I have been happier or was my discontent so ingrained that I would have blamed my inertia on him and the marriage fallen apart anyway? Julie must have looked out the window and seen me sitting there because she came out, her coat on, carrying two highball glasses and sat down beside me.

  “Non-alcoholic punch like substance,” she said, as she handed me a glass of something red.

  I took a sip. “Tasty. Very tasty.”

  We didn’t say anything for a while, just sat and sipped our drinks and watched the snow fall inside the bubble and thought our separate thoughts.

  Our not very weighty thoughts. “Do you know how to make biscuits?” Julie asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Good. Evan and what’s her name, the new girl and Heather are coming to dinner. I’m making a chicken pot pie but I don’t have any Pillsbury for the topping so maybe you could whip up something.”

  “Heather? That’s not like you.”

  “Oh I couldn’t avoid it. She’s been calling me all day to see what’s happening. She pretty much invited herself. Let’s go inside. I’ve got a fire going and we can brace ourselves with another glass of punch.”

  Julie had the Christmas tree lights on, carols were playing softly in the background and Abby was sleeping by the fire. It was so cozy that I started to get choked up.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Everything makes me cry now.” I hung Julie’s coat up in the closet and wandered over to peruse the decorations on the tree. A ratty toilet paper roll Santa Claus with half a beard was front and center. I turned to her and smiled. “Kindergarten.”

  “Umm. After that Santa Claus the teacher called me in to say that I needed to work on Alice’s gluing skills. The stupid thing is I took it seriously and sat down with her every day for weeks and worked on gluing.”

  “It is pretty terrible. Evan’s was much nicer.”

  “An artist she’s not, but a lovely girl she is.”

  “Definitely.” Alice was travelling in Australia and wouldn’t be home for Christmas. We would all miss her. “What time is everyone coming over?”

  “Soon. I’d better go throw something together in the kitchen. Andrew’s down in the basement with a new typewriter. Why don’t you go down and keep him company until I need your biscuit making expertise?”

  Andrew’s hobby was collecting old typewriters. He has the largest collection in Canada and except for a woman in Connecticut, the largest in North America. The Connecticut woman was a real burr in Andrew’s side since her father had worked for Underwood and had a lot of connections in the business. Andrew felt that this unfair advantage should somehow disqualify her.

  I made my way down Julie’s rickety stairs to the basement, where Andrew had his workshop. “Hi Andrew,” I called to him as I threaded my way around the vacuum cleaner, past the box of old toys, through the laundry room and into his workshop.

  “Hi Val. How goes it?”

  “Oh, been better. You got a new one?”

  He smiled. “A Hermes. I’ve been looking for one of these for years.” He looked so pleased. “How’d it go today?” Andrew asked, as he peered at the innards of the typewriter through magnifying glasses.

  “I met Walter Fink. He’s going to take my case.”

  “Well that’s good. He’s the best isn’t he?”

  “Hmmm. He’s kind of a dick.”

  “A dick who could help you.”

  “This is true.”

  An hour later, after a pleasant, meandering conversation with Andrew, I was helping Julie finish up in the kitchen as the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” said Andrew.

  “I should have just bought something frozen,” said Julie as she opened the oven door to check on the potpie. “Who really wants something homemade by me?”

  “No one. Absolutely no one. Please tell me that at least dessert will be something store bought.”

  “Ice cream with liquor poured on. Very classy. Even Heather should approve.”

  “What kind of ice cream?”

  “I don’t know.” Julie went over to the freezer and opened it. “Smarties ice cream.”

  “Smarties ice cream is not classy except possibly to a four year old.”

  “In a wine glass with some Bailey’s its surprisingly elegant. And tasty, which after all is the point of dessert.”

  Andrew came into the kitchen with Evan and Mikel in tow.

  “Hi Mom,” said Evan, giving me a big hug. “Hi Jules, these are for you.” He passed her a box of chocolate covered cherries. “I know you like them.”

  “Oh, I do. Thanks honey. You’re such a good boy.”

  I beamed at him. He was such a good boy.

  “Boy?” said Mikel. “He’s twenty-three.”

  It was going to be so difficult for me to establish a warm, motherly relationship with this girl.

  The doorbell rang again as we all headed into the living room. “That must be Heather,” said Julie. “Wouldn’t you know she’d be right on time?”

  “Heather?” asked Evan.

  “Julie was feeling benevolent tonight,” I told him. “She’s putting aside old grudges for the Christmas season.”

  “Not because of Christmas,” said Julie. “Because of you. We need to brainstorm and you never know. There is always the remote possibility Heather might have an insight that doesn’t involve microdermabrasion.”

  Julie and I greeted Heather while everyone else went into the living room. Heather was her usual whirl of kiss kiss, hug hug and was bearing the perfect bottle of red wine. Expensive, but not ostentatious. For a casual dinner at a friend’s house — if Julie could be called a friend — she was wearing high black boots, a black mini skirt and a gorgeous, tight fitting red sweater. She looked fantastic. “Did you realize there’s a police car parked outside?” Heather asked, as she handed Julie the wine.

  “Really?” I said, as both Julie and I peered out the front door. There it was. A police car parked under the streetlamp, with one officer inside looking back at us.

  “Do you think they’re coming to arrest me?” I was panicked. I’d thought I had more time. More time for the police to come to their senses and realize I couldn’t possibly be the culprit. More time to savor my freedom.

  “He’s just sitting there,” said Julie. “They’re probably watching the house to make sure you don’t make a run for it.”

  I felt weak in the knees and had to lean against the wall to ensure I didn’t keel over. Julie gently moved me out of the way of the door and then gave me a long hug. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re going to fix this.”

  Evan must have sensed something was up because he wandered into the foyer. “Everything all right?” he asked. “Hi Heather.”

  “Evan. Hello. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  “Evan and his friend Mikel,” I said.

  He gave her a quick smile and turned his attention to me. “You okay Mom?”

  “There’s a police car outside,” I told him. “I’m not sure what he wants but it’s possible they’re going to arrest me.”

  Evan opened the front door to ascertain for himself that there was indeed a police car in front of the house. “Assholes,” he muttered. “I’ll get Mikel to call Fink and see if he knows anything.”

  “Fink?” asked Heather.

  “Walter Fink,” I said. “Mikel works with him and he’s taken my case.”

  “Is that a good idea?” asked Heather. “As soon as I hear so
meone is a client of his I automatically assume they must be guilty.”

  “Everyone already assumes I’m guilty and he knows how to get guilty people back on the streets where they belong.”

  “You’re not guilty,” said Julie in a firm voice. She took Heather by the arm and gave her her sternest look. “She’s not guilty.”

  “I never said she was! I’m just saying …”

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “I know what you mean.”

  We all went into the living room where Mikel was in the corner on the phone and Evan was hovering over her. Heather looked taken aback by Mikel. “It’s a family name,” I told Heather.

  “Un huh. She’s with Evan?” she whispered.

  I nodded and could see Heather giving Mikel the once over and dismissing her on the grounds that Mikel’s hair could use some highlights and fashion clearly wasn’t one of her interests.

  Mikel hung up the phone. “Walter’s at a basketball game. I can’t get hold of him.”

  “I think we all need to calm down,” said Julie. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Everyone just sit down and relax.” And then there was a sharp knock on the door.

  “Hide!” hissed Julie.

  CHAPTER 12

  “All of us?” I asked.

  “No not all of us. It’s not a surprise party. You. Go hide. They’re not taking you.”

  “No no no,” said Mikel, visibly horrified. “She can’t hide. You can’t hide her.”

  “That’s harboring a felon,” said Heather.

  “My mother is not a felon,” said Evan through clenched teeth.

  Without really thinking about it I ran across the living room, clamored over the back of the couch and squeezed in behind it. I could hear Julie opening the door as I slid sideways down the wall and landed in a heap on my hip bone. As soon as I was crushed in behind the couch I felt surprisingly calm. The police probably weren’t going to unholster their guns, pull Julie’s couch out from the wall and yell, “Ah Hah!”.

  It was a good hiding place. For the first time in two days I felt safe.

  Julie came back into the living room and asked, “Where’s Val?”

  Someone must have pointed to the couch because Julie came over and pulled the couch away from the wall. “I may have overreacted,” she said, staring down at me. “It was a neighbor telling us that Andrew’s elf bubble has deflated.” I struggled to my feet, brushed the dust bunnies off my pants and looked around the room. Everyone looked a little uncomfortable. Watching a forty-seven year old woman scramble over the back of couch to hide was maybe a little too pitiable for this crowd.

  “You okay Mom?” asked Evan.

  “I’m fine,” I said, picking a clump of dog hair off my sweater. “Do you ever vacuum back there Julie?”

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” she said. I gave the couch a push and maneuvered myself into a more dignified position.

  Mikel was rocking back and forth and running her hand through her hair. “Val, I really have to counsel you not to hide if the police show up with an arrest warrant. That isn’t going to help your case and we would have to tell them where you were hiding. There’s better ways to go about this.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t tell anyone where she was,” said Julie.

  “What better way?” I inquired. “Please, enlighten me. Julie could I have another drink?” I looked around at the faces. “Mocktail. No alcohol. Don’t worry. No need to hide the carving knives.”

  “Mom, come on,” said Evan. “No one was thinking that. We’re all just very worried and a little jumpy.”

  “Everyone please sit down,” said Julie. “I’ll get the drinks and we can all settle down and figure this out.”

  We all just stood there, uncomfortable, not knowing where to sit. Who’d have thought having an alleged murderer in the house would be so socially awkward?

  “Is dinner ready?” I asked. “Why don’t we go sit at the table? Just think Julie. Your potpie could be the last meal I eat as a free woman.”

  “Don’t be so depressing,” said Julie. “You’ll have lots more meals. Decent meals.”

  Evan started herding us toward the dining room table, making sure that he had me on one side of him and Mikel on the other. Heather sat across from us and immediately picked up the silverware and polished it on her napkin. “I just got a text from Walter,” said Mikel, looking at her phone. “They’re going to make an arrest, but not until tomorrow morning. The police are just watching the house so they know where you are Val.”

  “No no,” I said. “They’re not making an arrest tomorrow. I’m going in for a discussion tomorrow at ten. Walter knows all about it. He’s sending an associate. We’ll clear everything up then.”

  Well I sure knew how to shut up a room. Everyone stared at their placemat, sipped their drinks, or stared off into space.

  “They have absolutely nothing to go on! They can’t arrest me. What kind of country is this?” I was in shock.

  “What about bail Mikel?” asked Evan.

  “It depends on the charge,” said Mikel. “But I don’t think they’d hold Val without bail. She has no priors, and she has family and friends to keep her here. They’ll take her passport of course.”

  “I’ll talk to Dad,” said Evan.

  Enough. It was time for me to assert myself. “Talk to your dad about bail? Forget it. I’m not going to be beholden to him like that. But while we are on the subject of your father, why hasn’t he been in touch? I expected more from him.”

  “Mom, he has been in regular contact with me. He is very concerned about you. You’re the one who insisted he leave you alone, you know, after the incident with Sylvia.”

  Well even so. We were married for twenty years. You’d think he’d have sent flowers or a fruit basket or something. “Can we talk about something else for a minute? My head is swimming.”

  I glanced across the table at Heather who looked a little strained. She seemed to be assessing Mikel. Probably wondering how a woman so lacking in adornment could hang on to a man.

  “The thing is,” said Mikel, finally addressing something directly to me, “You don’t have any motivation.”

  “That has been a life-long issue for me Mikel.”

  “I mean for the murder. There’s certainly plenty of circumstantial evidence, and you had the opportunity, but what would be your motive? Juries like to see a motive. You’ll have to excuse me Val, I’m just thinking out loud here. If the AG’s office can’t find a motive they might be willing to reduce the charge. Walter might even be able to get it down to manslaughter.”

  Julie plopped the potpie down in the middle of the table and started serving it up. “She had no motive because she didn’t kill him. Got that everyone? Ah hell, I forgot to make the salad. Everyone please just pretend there’s a nice green salad to go with the pie.”

  We all watched in silence as Julie slopped the potpie on to our plates. Heather finally broke in. “Surely lots of people have been convicted without motive.”

  “It’s just harder,” said Mikel. “It’s something for Walter to work with.”

  Well praise be for that. “I’m not sure Mikel,” I told her, “but I think they’ll probably go with the theory that I am irrational and violent when drunk.”

  “You wanted a raise,” said Heather. “You were really ticked off that he turned you down. And you told me he was very insulting to you — he called you a moron or something in front of everybody after you shredded those documents.”

  “Honestly,” said Julie. “Whose side are you on?”

  “I’m trying to help,” responded Heather, as she delicately removed a piece of gristle from her mouth and placed it on the side of her plate. “I’m suggesting theories that the prosecution might be looking at.”

  “How much grumbling did you do about the raise Val?” asked Andrew. “Did many people at the office hear you?”

  “You know how discreet I am. They probably all heard me. I actually whined more about him abolishin
g Treat Friday and the police have already questioned me about that.” I took a bite of potpie and chewed for a moment. “Wouldn’t that be a headline for the Sun? Secretary kills boss over donut ban. With a picture of my big old butt.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your butt,” said Julie. “And you don’t even like donuts that much. That was never your problem.”

  “Will you testify to that in court?” I asked her.

  “We’re not getting anywhere,” said Evan. “We need to buckle down. I don’t want to just sit back and hope that Walter can come up with some Hail Mary pass.”

  The conversation continued around me as I looked around the table. Who here even believed I was innocent? Julie perhaps. Evan was blinded by his loyalty to me. Andrew was so rational that he was likely swayed by the evidence against me, yet so kind he couldn’t really believe ill of anyone he cared about. Heather’s take on the situation was hard to read, but Mikel almost certainly thought she was eating potpie with a killer. What was it about me that suggested I was capable of such an act? I was crabby on occasion, though usually only when shopping or in heavy traffic. I was known to be quite testy when hungry and I’d assaulted a couple of people, but really, what had I ever done that left people so convinced that I was capable of murder?

  And what would happen if the police stopped looking for the real murderer but Walter did manage, through some kind of underhanded legal maneuvering to get me off? People would always think I was the drunken killer that got away with it because of her fast-talking lawyer.

  We all poked at our dinner and made desultory conversation. “Doesn’t anybody have any ideas, any suggestions as to what we can do?” asked Julie.

  “Like what?” replied Heather. “Barricade the house and refuse to let them take Val?” She poked at her plate for a moment, deftly removing the crust and placing it to the side of her plate. “What about the taxi driver who brought you home?” she asked. “He might know something. I mean let’s face it Val, that wizened old man isn’t someone you would normally be attracted to. Hey — maybe there was a third person in the cab. What about that? A third person who came home with you? Maybe that’s why you were so friendly and invited him up. Your boss just happened to be part of the group.”