A Hint of Murder Read online

  “Thank you,” my aunt said.

  “And maybe we can mention a few of your husband’s more successful inventions,” Lucille suggested.

  Dot blurted a laugh. “Good luck with that! Barney was the love of my life, but his genius was not inventing something new out of thin air. I miss him more and more with each passing day, but I do not miss the banging and sawing and weird smells coming from his workshop.”

  Lucille nodded as she scribbled something in her notebook. “What about you, Liz?” she asked. “How long have you been part of the Big Dipper team?”

  I looked at my aunt. “Do you want to answer that?”

  She glared at me. “My name’s not Liz. I believe the question was for you, dear.”

  “Alrighty then,” I said, turning back to Lucille. “I grew up here in Crystal Bay, but decided to move to Atlanta after graduating from—”

  “On account of she fell in love with a liar and a cheat,” Aunt Dot blurted.

  I smiled at her. “I thought you wanted me to answer the question.”

  Her face tinged pink. “I’m sorry, hon. I’m still mad as a mule chewing on a hornet’s nest about that moron fiancé that treated you so shabbily!”

  Lucille offered a compassionate smile. “Sounds like a rough patch, huh?”

  Aunt Dot snorted. “Rough patch? The idiot got her to move to Atlanta. Then he ran up all of her credit cards to the limit. Then he slept with their neighbor. And then he—”

  “Dottie?” I said firmly. “We don’t need to air all the dirty laundry for Lucille, okay?”

  “You’re right,” she said, glancing away. “I’m just an old woman with a runaway mouth.”

  I patted her arm again. “You’re fine. It’s just that we don’t have much time and the story about Dwight will take about a week if you include all the tangential details.”

  “Like the part about how his mistress took your new pink thong and didn’t even have the courtesy to buy you a replacement?”

  “Right,” I said through clenched teeth. “Those kind of details.”

  “Anyway, Liz,” Lucille continued. “You were telling us about moving to Atlanta.”

  “That’s right,” I replied. “I moved to Georgia after getting my undergraduate degree in criminology from Florida State. I worked part-time as both a dispatcher and 911 operator while I went for a master’s degree. I though those positions would be a good foundation for something else later, but decided to stay in those roles because I loved the connection with the public. I was Communications Supervisor for the past few years.”

  “Was it difficult to leave that career behind?” asked Lucille.

  “I don’t know that I’ve left it behind forever,” I said. “For right now, I’m glad to be back in Crystal Bay. When Uncle Barney passed away a few months ago, moving home to help my aunt here at the Big Dipper was the right thing do. But you never know what tomorrow will bring. Heck, I might end up back in police work if I don’t meet Dot’s high standards.”

  My aunt gazed directly into the camera. “Don’t listen to her,” she said. “Lizzie may be a little ditzy now and then, but she’s doing a fine job.”

  Lucille Larkin smiled. “Law enforcement runs in the family then,” she said. “I noticed in our research materials that your brother works for the Crystal Bay Police Department.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Matthew’s a patrol officer. He’s been on the force for ten years, and loves the job more than—”

  “His wife is a dear heart, too,” Dot said quickly. “They have two of the cutest munchkins you’ll ever see.”

  “How lovely,” said Lucille with a patient smile. “Do they visit the Big Dipper often?”

  “Not often enough,” my aunt replied. “But I adore every minute when they do stop by.”

  Lucille checked her notes again. “Okay, so Liz,” she said. “What did you study in college?”

  “Her Uncle Barney used to say she majored in how to be a doormat,” Aunt Dot said. “But I always—”

  “That’s enough!” I said. “If you keep interrupting every five seconds, Lucille won’t get what she needs for your segment on the show.”

  My aunt’s eyes went wide. “She won’t?”

  “Probably not,” I said. “So can you please zip it?”

  She exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry, hon. I talk a lot more when I get anxious.”

  “Don’t be anxious, Dot,” Lucille said reassuringly. “You’re doing great!”

  My aunt rubbed her chin with one slender finger. “It doesn’t feel like it. I haven’t been this jumpy since I went out on that blind date with Laverne’s cousin.”

  Lucille smiled. “How did that turn out?”

  “For me?” Dot asked. “Or for the handsy narcissist who couldn’t stop eating with his mouth open?”

  “Moving on,” I said. “What else would you like to know?”

  Lucille glanced down at the list of questions in her notebook. “Can we just check a few facts?”

  “Certainly,” I said.

  “This says that you’re thirty,” she said. “Is that correct?”

  Aunt Dot scoffed. “Thirty going on three or ninety-three,” she teased, “depending on the day and her mood.”

  “There’s that sassy sense of humor I heard on the phone last week,” said Lucille, scribbling in her notebook. “And so Liz is thirty, and Dot is—”

  “I’m somewhere between fifty and the Pearly Gates,” Aunt Dot said. “Can we leave it there for now?”

  Lucille laughed again. “I have seventy-three for your age, Dot.”

  “That’s close enough,” my aunt replied. “Anything more definitive than that, I should probably have my attorney present.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” said Lucille. “And if you’d prefer, we can be vague about your age.”

  Aunt Dot’s head bobbed in agreement. “Works for me!” she said brightly. “I’ve always liked a little mystique about my personal information.”

  “What else?” Lucille asked.

  “Well, here’s one thing,” Dot replied, tapping her fingers on the tabletop. “Every single one of the other contestants is thin as a wafer. How can you be successful in the ice cream business if you look like you go to spin class and do yoga all day long?” She reached down and pinched at her waist. “This is the sign of someone who knows what good frozen treats taste like. A few extra pounds and a little extra padding. Nothing to be ashamed of, especially when you’re in this line of work.”

  “You look wonderful,” Lucille said, glancing nervously at the videographer. “And we really do base our selections on other factors.”

  “Such as?” Aunt Dot said.

  “Oh, well…” The woman cleared her throat anxiously. “Creativity, community involvement and culinary vision.”

  I reached for my aunt’s hand. “We should let Lucille get on with the questions, Dottie. They have another contestant to interview after this.”

  “I’m aware of that,” my aunt said. “I just want to be certain that we’re all on the same page about a few things.”

  “And we are,” I replied. “It’s an exciting opportunity for Dot’s Big Dipper to participate in the show.” I squeezed her fingers again. “And this is just the first step in the process, right? We’ll do the interview today. Lucille and her team in New York will compile all of the other conversations and then select the group that will appear on the program.”

  Dot was smiling by the time I finished. “I’m aware of that, dear. I’ve just never been a wallflower. I speak up when I have something to say.”

  “Well, that’s terrific!” Lucille said cheerfully. “Should we get back to taping our interview?”

  My aunt laughed. “As I told you a minute ago,” she said. “I was born ready! Let’s do this thing!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Aunt Dot raised her second glass of champagne overhead as another wave of her girlfriends swept through the door of the Big Dipper. It was three hou
rs after the Cuisine TV crew left. We were celebrating the successful meeting with Lucille Larkin as well as the fact that my aunt’s audition for We All Scream for Ice Cream had been covered by our local television stations.

  “Did she really say that?” gushed Mimi Fairweather, the undisputed gossip queen of Crystal Bay. “People will eat you up with a spoon?”

  My aunt’s smile expanded even more. “Oh, c’mon, Mimi. Are you surprised? What’s not to love?” She swept one hand down the front of her desperately wrinkled dress. “I’m a successful businesswoman. I’ve created ice cream combinations that can go toe-to-toe with Ben and Jerry’s any day. And I’ve never made a sex tape.”

  Mrs. Fairweather looked like she might faint. “Well, I should hope not! That’s the sign of a truly desperate crackpot.”

  Gina leaned in. “It worked for that Kardashian girl.”

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about,” my aunt sniffed.

  Her friend frowned. “You can’t be serious. Everybody knows about that family. They’re worth more than a billion dollars.”

  My aunt raised one eyebrow. “Well, they better watch out! They’ve never competed with Dorothy Ann Powell!”

  “They’ll be shaking in their stilettos after the see the show,” I said.

  Aunt Dot nodded. “I totally agree. And I’m not trying to toot my own horn. The folks from Cuisine TV wouldn’t have come all the way down here if they didn’t think we had something special.”

  “We?” I said. “Do you mean you and Uncle Barney?”

  “No, hon,” Dot replied. “I’m talking about you and me and everyone else who works here now or was on the team in the past. Without all of you, Dot’s Big Dipper wouldn’t be what it is today.”

  “Ahhh,” Gina said. “That’s so sweet, Dottie.”

  My aunt shrugged. “Maybe so, but it’s also the truth. I think we can all agree that Barney and I had a pretty savvy idea way back when. But I mean that sincerely; without all of the wonderful staff and vendors and customers, there would be no Big Dipper and the TV people wouldn’t be interested in turning me into a show business legend.”

  My mother chuckled. “A legend, Dot?” she said in disbelief. “Aren’t you getting a little carried away?”

  “Not at all,” my aunt said. “You’ve got to think big, Deb!”

  “Well, it sounded like you were hogging the spotlight when they were recording the interview,” my mother said.

  Dot shook her head. “That wasn’t hogging the spotlight,” she said. “That was razzmatazz. Know what I mean? A little glitter, a little glamour. Audiences are attracted to successful people, but you need to give ’em a little show business razzle-dazzle so they can find you among all the noise and bluster.”

  “Speaking of noise and bluster,” said Silvia Castillo, one of Aunt Dot’s best friends and host of the Babes with Books Wednesday night group. “Did you hear about Connie Thorpe?”

  I shook my head. “Is she okay?”

  Silvia held both hands toward the sky. “That woman is luckier than most, even though I don’t think it’ll sink in for a while. She was driving down to Ft. Lauderdale to visit her son and daughter-in-law. You know them, don’t you?”

  “Dave and Nancy?” I said.

  “Well, you’re half right,” Silvia replied. “Dave’s first wife left him last year for some schmuck from up north. Dave met Nancy the very day that his divorce was finalized.”

  “Talk about serendipity!” I said.

  Aunt Dot smiled. “Isn’t it a sweet story?”

  “How did they meet?” I asked.

  “Nancy’s divorce from her first husband was also finalized that day,” Silvia explained. “They’d both stopped to meet with their attorney for a few final loose ends. Dave’s appointment was right after Nancy’s. The lawyer had to take a phone call, so their paths crossed in the reception area.”

  “Probably both of them were grinning like drunken fools,” Dot said.

  “Well, whatever it was,” Silvia continued, “they went out for coffee and tied the knot six months later.”

  “So what about Connie?” I asked.

  Silvia smiled. “What about who?”

  “You were starting to tell us a story about Connie Thorpe,” I said. “Something about noise and bluster.”

  Silvia shrugged. “Oh, brother,” she said. “That’s par for the course. If I get distracted, I sometimes haven’t a clue what I was going to say. Except it comes to me at, like, two o’clock the next morning.”

  “Well, don’t bother to call and tell me then,” my aunt said. “I’ll either be sleeping or watching TV, neither of which I’d want anybody to disturb.”

  “Fair enough,” Silvia said. “When I do remember what the heck I was going to tell you, I’ll write it down and let you know at a more appropriate time.”

  “That works,” Dot said. “Although tonight might an exception. After all the hubbub about the TV show, I may not sleep a wink.”

  “Or you might collapse from all the stress as soon as you get home later,” I said. “The adrenaline sends you on a rocket to the moon, but you fall back to earth pretty quickly once it dissipates.”

  “I suppose,” Dot said. “But I’m going to dinner tonight with Ruth and Judy.”

  “Who’s Judy?” I asked.

  “Are you talking about Judy Simmons?” Silvia asked my aunt.

  “That’s the one,” Dot said. “She’s Ruth’s business partner at the jewelry store.”

  “I thought Ruth started that business with her sisters,” I said.

  Dot made a face. “They did open the shop together,” she explained. “But that was a good fourteen, fifteen years ago. A lot happened while you were living in Atlanta.”

  Silvia rubbed her ample midsection. “Yeah,” she said with a fluffy giggle. “I had two babies and gained forty pounds.”

  “Well, I didn’t have any kids in that time,” my aunt said, “but I still gained weight.”

  “You look skinny as one of those supermodels,” Gina said.

  “Time for an eye exam,” Dot teased.

  “You both look pretty amazing to me,” I said. “Who wants to be as thin as a model anyway?”

  They both raised their hands.

  “Sign me up!” Dot said. “I keep thinking about joining the gym, but all those mirrors would probably make me queasy.”

  “A woman of your age can do whatever she wants,” Silvia said. “To hell with anybody that disagrees.”

  “I suppose,” my aunt said. “I need to ask Judy if they have water aerobics at the place where she works out.”

  “Do they still do those?” Silvia asked. “It seems like exercise fads come and go.”

  “I’m still waiting for aerobic napping,” Dot said. “You know, where you lay down and get all comfy for a half hour?”

  “Did I hear you tell someone that Maybelle and her business partner are taking you to dinner to celebrate the interview?” I asked. “Sounds like your quarrel from this morning has been forgotten.”

  “That was no quarrel,” Dot replied. “We’ve been friends for too long to let a little spat do any real damage. Besides, I think they’re really more interested in picking my brain about selling houses to people in their twenties and thirties.”

  “You’re not in that demographic,” I said.

  She giggled. “But you are, hon. You’re my very own personal lab rat.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s kind of creepy.”

  “Oh, bull snap,” she said. “Think of it as a compliment. Maybelle and Judy want the inside skinny on what people your age look for when buying a new house for their family.”

  “But I’m renting an apartment in a borderline shabby building,” I replied. “How will that be helpful?”

  My aunt shrugged. “Beats me,” she said. “But it’ll mean a free dinner at one of the nicest spots in town. I’ll just make something up if I need to.”

  “But isn’t that kind of deceptive?” I asked.
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  Dot winked. “Nope. It’s a different kind of razzle-dazzle, hon.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Later that day, when I came out from the office to ask my aunt a few questions about invoices I found tucked under the desk chair cushion, she was entertaining two of her friends with a detailed account of our interview with Lucille Larkin.

  “You’re gonna be famous!” Pearl Hoyt gushed. “You’ll probably go on those late-night shows and meet the Queen of England!”

  Dot smirked. “Don’t get carried away,” she said. “It’s more likely that I’ll watch those shows and read about the Queen than anything else.”

  “But it’s the most excitement we’ve had in town since Loni won fifty grand playing Powerball,” replied Sonya Decker. “I still can’t believe she used that money to have her Chihuahua cloned.”

  “Hey!” Dot said. “If it’s good enough for Barbra Streisand, it’s good enough for our girl Loni.”

  “Our woman,” Pearl said sharply. “We’re women now, Dottie. Not girls.”

  My aunt’s mouth puckered. “I’ll be whatever the heck I wanna be,” she said brusquely. “And I doubt that Loni would mind me calling her a girl.”

  I could see Pearl’s jaw tightening, so it seemed like a good time to interrupt. Before my aunt had a chance to expound on her preferred vocabulary, I called her name and waved the stack of invoices.

  “Quick question?” I smiled.

  Dot’s gloomy expression remained unchanged. “If you must,” she said.

  “I found these under the seat cushion in the office. Any idea why they were tucked away?”

  “Oh, shoot!” She nodded. “Sorry about that, hon. I was tidying up earlier before the TV people got here.”

  “Good thing my tush is so sensitive,” I teased. “Otherwise, they might’ve gone unpaid, and a few of our suppliers would’ve been peeved.”

  “Well, thank you for finding them,” Dot said. “I was probably being overly sensitive myself before they showed up. I was afraid the place would look too dumpy and cluttered. You know, it’s been eight or nine years since your Uncle Barney and I had the walls painted.”