Life Without Parole: A Kate Conway Mystery by Clare O'Donohue

private moment on a public street. After a few minutes, Doug kissed Vera’s cheek and went walking up the street in the same direction as Erik’s car.
    I walked outside. “You okay?”
    Vera sniffed a little, but quickly composed herself. “Fine, thanks.”
    “Where did Doug go?”
    “He had a meeting. He didn’t want to leave me after what happened with Erik, but…”
    “That was quite a scene.”
    She shrugged. “I’m not very confrontational.”
    “You seemed to be holding your own. What was it about?”
    “Nothing. Just a difference of opinion on how to market the restaurant. I don’t want to be part of something that seems shallow.”
    “And Erik took that characterization a little too personally?”
    “I guess.”
    Andres and Victor walked out of the restaurant and stopped a few feet away from us. “Everything okay?” Victor asked.
    “Yes. But I think we’re going to call it a day,” I said. “There’s no construction, and we’ve done all the interviews about this stage in the process. They need to get a little further before we can continue.”
    “So I should put the camera away?” Andres asked, each word enunciated, his eyes widening and his head tilted. If he’d been any less subtle, a dead man would have picked up on the cues.
    “Yes, Andres, put the camera away.” I wanted to add,
Vera is in no mood for videotape of her cheating boyfriend
, but she was two feet away, so
my
widened eyes and tilted head had to be enough of a clue that I knew what he’d meant.
    Besides, my phone rang.
    I glanced at the caller ID. “Ellen,” I said as I answered. “Not the time.”
    “This is important. Mom called. She wants us to come over to her house Saturday to decide what we want when she dies.”
    “Mom’s dying?”
    “No. You’re such a drama queen. She wants us to decide now what we each want so there’s no fighting when she does die, years from now.”
    “I don’t know if I’m free Saturday,” I said.
    “Of course you’re free. We have to decide what time. I think we should take Mom to lunch after, so it should be about ten at her house. That way we can relax after we go through her stuff. It will be nice for all of us to get together.”
    I had a feeling my mom and Ellen had cooked up this morbid scheme as an excuse to get me out of my house. “What about Dad?” I asked. “Doesn’t he want to join in the fun?”
    “He figures he’ll die before Mom, so he doesn’t really care to get involved.”
    Isighed. I could hold off Ellen, but combined with the extra-strength guilt power of my mother, I didn’t even bother to resist. “Okay. Ten a.m., Saturday.” As I spoke, I saw Vera answer her phone. Her face went pale, and she looked at me, panic in her eyes. “Ellen, I have to go.”
    “Kate,” I could hear Ellen saying, “We have to talk about Andrew’s game. He’s second string but you’re his aunt and you—”
    I hung up. I walked to Vera and she handed me her phone. A computerized voice was saying, “You’re the next to be slashed,” over and over. I handed it to Andres, who also listened. Victor, the last to hear, was the only one of us who had the sense to record the voice, with a pocket digital recorder he kept handy.
    “That recorder was genius. I could kiss you,” I said.
    Victor leaned in.
    I laughed. “I said I could kiss you, not that I would. Why do you have that with you, anyway?”
    “I’m a songwriter. If I get inspired I got to put it somewhere until I have time to work on it.”
    He glanced toward Andres, expecting, as I did, some remark about focusing on work instead of writing songs on a client’s dime. But Andres just smiled. “Smart move,” he said. “Now we can take this to the police and find out who’s been harassing Vera.”
    Vera looked at Andres, then at me.
    “I told them,” I admitted. “I was just—”
    “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s good that you did.” She rested her head on Victor’s shoulder, and he put his arm