4 Decoupage Can Be Deadly (23 page)

“As opposed to whom? Me?”

“He’s trying to help you.”

“I don’t want his help. Besides, spending two grand on a dress doesn’t help me.”

“Honestly, Anastasia, did you expect us to shop at Wal-Mart?”

Mama didn’t get it; Mama would never get it. In her world men took care of women.

An awful thought popped into my head at that moment. Had Mama seduced Lawrence because of Ira’s money? She’d previously admitted to such a scheme with the recently deceased Lou Beaumont. Was her relationship with Lawrence a case of
déjà vu
? He might not have money, but his son-in-law certainly had plenty. And judging from the way Ira was tossing Franklins at Mama and Lawrence, he seemed to care more about his father-in-law than his soon-to-be ex-wife.

“Well?” asked Mama, hands on hips.

Rather than answer her, I slipped out of the dress, placed it back on its hanger, removed the Spanx, and stepped into a pair of jeans. After tossing on a T-shirt, I headed for the kitchen to start the rice and cut up a salad.

~*~

Lawrence, a diehard Mets fan, suggested eating dinner in the den so he and the boys could continue watching the National League Wild Card playoff game. When Alex and Nick cast pleading eyes in my direction, I agreed. After all, how often do the Mets make it to the playoffs? Mama, having chosen her caterer and menu, decided to join them. Lucille remained off with her fellow rabble-rousers. I filled my plate and settled into a kitchen chair with only Ralph to keep me company.

“So how was your day?” I asked the bird.

He flapped his wings and squawked. “
Nor night, nor day, no rest
.
The Winter’s Tale
. Act Two, Scene Three.”

I stabbed at a piece of broccoli. “Like you have something to complain about. I’m the one who never gets any rest. Make yourself useful, Ralph. Tell me how to deal with Ira.”

Instead of offering up further pearls of wisdom, the bird decided to ignore me and preen his feathers. Apparently, Shakespeare never wrote about an Ira problem.

EIGHTEEN

The next morning Tino greeted me as I stepped out of my car. He looked no worse the wear for having slept in my office. No stubble. All tucked and pressed and ex-Marine intimidating. Then again, he may have awakened shortly after I left and spent most of the night in his own bed. Since he didn’t mention anything, I decided not to bring up the subject. Tino didn’t strike me as the sort of guy who’d take kindly to being reminded he’d fallen asleep on the job—literally.

“Did you hear the news about Norma Gene?” he asked as we headed toward the building entrance.

I nodded. “Do you have any details?”

“Me? Why would I have details?”

“I thought the police might have spoken with Mr. Gruenwald.”

Tino stopped short and turned to face me. “You think Mr. G. killed her?”

“No, of course not, but Philomena was murdered, and now Norma Gene is found dead. There’s got to be a connection, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He resumed walking.

“The news report I heard said she was found in a Dumpster but didn’t say how she died. If she was severely beaten, it’s the same M.O. as Philomena.”

Tino shrugged. “People wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time all the time. Shit happens. Especially in certain sections of South Philly.”

“You know the area where they found her?”

He opened the door, and we stepped inside. “Driven through it a few times. It’s got a seedy rep. Lots of gang activity. Not the sort of place you want to wander around on your own.”

Since we were alone in the lobby, I continued the conversation but kept my voice low. “I thought perhaps she had an inkling as to who killed Philomena and decided to take matters into her own hands.”

Tino glanced around. Assured that no one could overhear our conversation, he pressed the elevator button, then continued, “That would have been very foolish and totally out of character for Norma Gene.”

“How so?” From what I’d observed of Norma Gene, plus our conversation in the ladies’ room, I could certainly see her heading down to Philly to confront Philomena’s killer, foolish though such an attempt might be.

“The woman was a lover, not a fighter.”

“I didn’t realize you knew her that well.” When he didn’t expound on his statement, I continued, “You have another theory?”

“Sure. She went to Philadelphia to help her foster mother make arrangements for the funeral. She was either the victim of random violence or crossed the path of some homophobic thugs. Given the neighborhood, my money’s on the thugs. Especially if she was beaten to death.”

I had to admit, Tino’s theory made perfect sense. “If she fought her attackers, the police might find DNA evidence that will lead to their capture.”

“Certainly a possibility if the guy is in the system. If not, it’s a dead end.” When I raised an eyebrow, he added, “No pun intended.”

“What’s the likelihood of a thug not being in the system?”

Tino laughed. “Good point.”

“Same for Philomena,” I continued as the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. “Maybe the detectives are waiting for the DNA results to come back before they make an arrest. Even if the killer isn’t in the system, with DNA evidence they’d know if the same person killed both of them.”

Tino stabbed at the button for the third floor. “You should be a detective, Mrs. Pollack.”

“Your boss already thinks I am.”

He grunted. “Yeah, I know. So where are you on figuring out who killed Philomena?”

I sighed. “Absolutely nowhere as you well know. I’m totally stumped. Nothing makes sense, starting with why her body was dumped at Trimedia. Someone was making a statement, but what was it?”

“The most logical answer would be to frame someone at Trimedia,” said Tino.

“But that’s totally illogical.”

“Why?”

“People who commit murder want to get away with the crime, not lead the police to their doorstep. If the killer were someone connected to Trimedia, as Mr. Gruenwald believes, the last thing he’d do is transport the body here. Don’t you think he’d make it disappear? Dump it in the river or a landfill or bury it in the woods? Isn’t that what you’d do?”

Tino raised his hands as if warding off an accusation. “Hey, I didn’t kill her!”

“Of course not. I’m not suggesting you did, but think about it. If you were a killer, what would you do with the body?”

Tino grew thoughtful. “I see your point. So you’re convinced the killer wasn’t connected to Trimedia?”

“Except that doesn’t explain the disappearing security cameras. The killer had enough knowledge of the building to know to remove the cameras before bringing the body through the loading dock doors. Not to mention having access to those doors.”

“So the killer is either a Trimedia employee, or he isn’t. That certainly helps narrow down suspects.”

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped out onto the third floor. “Exactly. And now you know why I’m essentially stumped.” And that’s when it hit me. I stopped so abruptly Tino’s massive chest collided with my back.

I wobbled on my heels, losing my balance. Tino grabbed my arm just in time to yank me upright and keep me from landing face first onto the Terrazzo floor. “Hey! Sorry. You shouldn’t stop short like that.”

But I hardly acknowledged his save. My mind whirled. Essentially. Essential.
Bear Essentials
.

“You okay?” he asked.

I waved away his concern and continued to roll the thought around in my mind.

“Earth to Mrs. P.!” Tino waved his hand in front of my face. “What’s going on?”

I had ruled out any
Bling!
employees as Philomena’s killer. Her death meant they all lost their jobs. But what about a disgruntled
former
employee? Someone who lost his job when Gruenwald folded one magazine to make room for another.

There are millions of teddy bear collectors all over the world and only a handful of publications devoted to them. How could
Bear Essentials
not turn a profit, the reason corporate gave for shutting them down?

“I need to speak with Marie,” I said and raced down the hall toward my cubicle.

Unfortunately, Marie’s voicemail greeted me on the other end of the phone line. I left a message, asking her to call me back as soon as possible.

“So what’s your brainstorm?” asked Tino after I hung up the phone.

“Perhaps nothing but let’s wait until I talk with Marie. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Fair enough. You want some coffee?”

“Love some.” Tino headed for the break room. I booted up my computer and found a memo from corporate. Trimedia planned to host a memorial tribute to Philomena at Madison Square Garden Saturday. The event would be recorded and broadcast at a later date. All Trimedia employees were expected to attend.

“Did you see this memo?” I called across the hall to Cloris.

“Leave it to Trimedia to make a buck off Philomena’s death,” she answered. “I wonder how much they’re charging for tickets.”

“Easy to find out,” I said, “but whatever the price of tickets, the real money is in the advertising. You can bet all of Philomena’s sponsors will be shelling out big bucks for those commercial slots. One final time to capitalize on her celebrity.”

I heard the clickety-clack of computer keys, followed by a long whistle. “Holy guacamole! Tickets range from seventy-five dollars for the nosebleed section up to a thousand dollars for prime locations.”

“And that’s before the scalpers snap them all up.”

“Good thing we don’t have to pay for our tickets.”

“If you want to bring a guest, you can have mine,” I offered.

A moment later she was standing beside me, hands on hips. “Two questions: One—how do you plan on getting out of going? And Two—can I come with you?”

“Ask Mama. She’s scheduled her latest trip down the altar for Sunday. I’ve got the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner Saturday night.”

“That was quick. How long has she known this latest guy?”

“Less than three months.”

“Think it will last?”

“With Mama’s track record?”

Cloris shook her head and sighed. “Poor guy.” Then she added, “The concert is at two with the private Trimedia memorial service scheduled for eleven. What time is the rehearsal?”

“Five.”

“Plenty of time to put in an appearance. No one will notice if you sneak out early, but Gruenwald will notice if you don’t show up for the gathering ahead of the concert. He’ll expect you there.”

“Why?”

“Checking out suspects, Sherlock. Don’t the cops always show up at the funerals of murder victims?”

“Damn, I hate when you’re right.”

A few minutes later Cloris headed off for a meeting in the city. While I waited for Marie to call back, I turned my attention to the March issue where I was tasked with combining leprechauns and Easter bunnies. Craft-wise St. Patrick’s Day and Easter were two of my least favorite holidays. Coming up with ideas that didn’t scream
kitsch
and look like they came from the dollar store stretched even my creative brain cells.

None of the other editors faced this problem. Both holidays featured traditional foods for Cloris to tap into. Jeanie would cover spring cleaning. Janice planned an article on dealing with spring allergies. Sheila’s column would cover tax tips, Serena would concentrate on planning summer getaways, and the duo of fashion and beauty would deal with spring trends.

I alone struggled with the March issue and dragged my feet to the point that I had no suggestions to offer at yesterday’s planning meeting. I needed a proposal on Naomi’s desk before leaving the office today.

However, instead of shamrocks and pastel colored eggs, all I could think about were teddy bears. “Why fight it?” I muttered.

“Fight what?” asked Tino, returning with coffee minus any Cloris confections.

I frowned as he handed me a cup. “No muffins?”

“All gone. Fight what?”

“Teddy bears. Soon to be teddy bear leprechauns and teddy bear Easter bunnies.”

“You have an interesting job, Mrs. P.”

“So that’s why you keep hanging around?”

He studied me over the rim of his cup as he sipped his coffee. “It’s my job.”

And a cushy one at that. But I kept my tongue firmly planted behind my sealed lips. Instead, I grabbed a sheet of paper and a Sharpie and began sketching out my idea.

I could fill my additional editorial pages with full-size patterns. Readers loved full-sized patterns. Every time I included patterns that required enlarging, I received nasty-grams. Now, thanks to Naomi’s editorial changes, I could include full-size patterns, which in turn meant I wouldn’t have to come up with additional craft projects for each issue. I’d design one teddy bear with accessories that would morph the furry little dude from a St. Patty’s teddy into an Easter teddy. Genius!