back to me. I’m a prime suspect.
Josie was so upset she had trouble navigating the twisty country roads close to Alyce’s house. It was lonely out here, nothing but hills, woods and private drives. Barren rocks jutted out of the hillsides. Small animals ran in front of her car.
Her friend Alyce thought the lonesome landscape was a bucolic paradise. She was always telling Josie about the wildlife that shyly ventured into her yard. Alyce saw a doe and two “darling” fawns. The week before that, it was a fox with her kits. Josie never saw anything more exotic than squashed roadkill.
Alyce was right about one thing: Today there was a lot of official-looking activity. The Estates at Wood Winds was a gated community, but the guard usually waved Josie through. This time, he stopped her, asked to see her driver’s license and called Alyce to confirm her visit.
One entire road was blocked off with yellow crime-scene tape, but it was at the crest of a wooded hill. Josie couldn’t see anything beyond the police car posted by the tape. The road to Alyce’s house was open. Josie pulled into the driveway of the Tudor mansion, which was between a minicastle and a semi-demi-Italian palace. She gave her three-knock signal on the side door and entered.
Josie was always momentarily stunned by the luxury of Alyce’s house. Her friend had white silk couches—with a one-year-old baby—and not a sticky handprint on the cushions. There were fresh white roses in crystal vases, gorgeous rugs in muted grays and blues, sensuous piles of pillows. The tall windows were free of little finger smudges. No toys or games marred the perfection.
Alyce’s voice floated downstairs. “Come on in, Josie. The food’s in the kitchen. Serve yourself. I’m putting the baby down for his nap. It’s the nanny’s morning off.”
Josie found fluffy scrambled eggs on a warmer, crisp bacon on a special drainer from Williams-Sonoma and coffee in a machine so complicated she’d need an engineering degree to operate it. Alyce had set out bowls of fresh fruit, including a huge mound of raspberries, which cost more than marijuana in Maplewood.
“The juice is in the fridge,” Alyce called. “It’s fresh squeezed.”
Where was the refrigerator? Josie wondered. She stood in the kitchen and looked around, ashamed to ask. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Why was a fridge so hard to find?
At her house the refrigerator was a big white box with GE on the front. But Alyce’s kitchen was paneled in linen-fold oak, like an English library. Josie didn’t see any handles sticking out on the oak panels.
She found a handhold buried in a slab of oak and tried to open it. It swung out to reveal a well-stocked pantry. Josie broke a nail trying to open the next hunk of paneling. Nothing there. The third time, she found the fridge. She was suddenly hungry, and fixed herself a generous breakfast.
“Alyce, you’re the perfect hostess,” Josie called up the stairs. “You think of every comfort.”
With that, three strapping young men came through the side door. Josie nearly dropped her fork. Wow, Alyce really did think of everything.
“We’re here to fix the bathroom tile grout,” the handsomest of the three said, dashing Josie’s hopes. They all had wedding rings. Naturally.
After the men disappeared into a guestroom bath, Alyce came down the stairs. Josie didn’t hear her. Alyce was doing that floating thing again. Josie wondered how she did that. Where did a woman learn to walk soundlessly, buy bacon drainers and find invisible refrigerators?
“Justin is asleep,” Alyce said. “With any luck, he’ll stay out for the next hour or so and we can talk.” She put a spoonful of eggs on her plate and counted out ten raspberries, and Josie knew her friend was tormenting herself with another diet.
“The guard called when you arrived. Did you have trouble at the gate?” Alyce asked.
“Not really,” Josie said. “But this is the most security I’ve
Josie was so upset she had trouble navigating the twisty country roads close to Alyce’s house. It was lonely out here, nothing but hills, woods and private drives. Barren rocks jutted out of the hillsides. Small animals ran in front of her car.
Her friend Alyce thought the lonesome landscape was a bucolic paradise. She was always telling Josie about the wildlife that shyly ventured into her yard. Alyce saw a doe and two “darling” fawns. The week before that, it was a fox with her kits. Josie never saw anything more exotic than squashed roadkill.
Alyce was right about one thing: Today there was a lot of official-looking activity. The Estates at Wood Winds was a gated community, but the guard usually waved Josie through. This time, he stopped her, asked to see her driver’s license and called Alyce to confirm her visit.
One entire road was blocked off with yellow crime-scene tape, but it was at the crest of a wooded hill. Josie couldn’t see anything beyond the police car posted by the tape. The road to Alyce’s house was open. Josie pulled into the driveway of the Tudor mansion, which was between a minicastle and a semi-demi-Italian palace. She gave her three-knock signal on the side door and entered.
Josie was always momentarily stunned by the luxury of Alyce’s house. Her friend had white silk couches—with a one-year-old baby—and not a sticky handprint on the cushions. There were fresh white roses in crystal vases, gorgeous rugs in muted grays and blues, sensuous piles of pillows. The tall windows were free of little finger smudges. No toys or games marred the perfection.
Alyce’s voice floated downstairs. “Come on in, Josie. The food’s in the kitchen. Serve yourself. I’m putting the baby down for his nap. It’s the nanny’s morning off.”
Josie found fluffy scrambled eggs on a warmer, crisp bacon on a special drainer from Williams-Sonoma and coffee in a machine so complicated she’d need an engineering degree to operate it. Alyce had set out bowls of fresh fruit, including a huge mound of raspberries, which cost more than marijuana in Maplewood.
“The juice is in the fridge,” Alyce called. “It’s fresh squeezed.”
Where was the refrigerator? Josie wondered. She stood in the kitchen and looked around, ashamed to ask. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Why was a fridge so hard to find?
At her house the refrigerator was a big white box with GE on the front. But Alyce’s kitchen was paneled in linen-fold oak, like an English library. Josie didn’t see any handles sticking out on the oak panels.
She found a handhold buried in a slab of oak and tried to open it. It swung out to reveal a well-stocked pantry. Josie broke a nail trying to open the next hunk of paneling. Nothing there. The third time, she found the fridge. She was suddenly hungry, and fixed herself a generous breakfast.
“Alyce, you’re the perfect hostess,” Josie called up the stairs. “You think of every comfort.”
With that, three strapping young men came through the side door. Josie nearly dropped her fork. Wow, Alyce really did think of everything.
“We’re here to fix the bathroom tile grout,” the handsomest of the three said, dashing Josie’s hopes. They all had wedding rings. Naturally.
After the men disappeared into a guestroom bath, Alyce came down the stairs. Josie didn’t hear her. Alyce was doing that floating thing again. Josie wondered how she did that. Where did a woman learn to walk soundlessly, buy bacon drainers and find invisible refrigerators?
“Justin is asleep,” Alyce said. “With any luck, he’ll stay out for the next hour or so and we can talk.” She put a spoonful of eggs on her plate and counted out ten raspberries, and Josie knew her friend was tormenting herself with another diet.
“The guard called when you arrived. Did you have trouble at the gate?” Alyce asked.
“Not really,” Josie said. “But this is the most security I’ve
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