Moving Can Be Murder by Susan Santangelo Page A

me.
    “But he couldn’t be involved in this, no
matter what. Because Mark and I are, well, because he and I are.
You know what I mean. So you won’t be able to pump him for
information.”
    Humph. The implication that I would take
advantage of Mark’s and Jenny’s relationship was totally out of
line. And exactly what did Jenny mean by the phrase, “Mark and I
are.” Are what? Good friends? A couple? Neighbors with benefits?
Engaged? If nothing else, Jenny had successfully distracted my
thought process.
    “What do you know about Alyssa Cartwright?”
I asked. “Was she in your class? Or Mike’s? Of course, she would
have been Alyssa Miller then. I don’t seem to remember much about
her.”
    “Alyssa didn’t go to school with either Mike
or me,” Jenny said. “She was home-schooled until eighth grade, and
then went away to some boarding school in Massachusetts. I always
thought that was odd.”
    “Now I remember,” I said. “She’s an only
child, and Sara and Chuck were very protective of her.
    “God, I can’t imagine what that family must
be going through today. Do you think I should call and see how
everyone is?”
    “It might be better to wait a while, Mom,”
advised Jenny. “You can’t predict what kind of a reception you’ll
get.”
    “Why, sweetie, that’s just plain crazy,” I
said, conveniently disregarding the very opinion I had asked my
daughter for. “Sara and I are friends. We’ve been neighbors for
over twenty years. She’s even part of our regular Bunco group. We
may not be as close as Nancy and I are, but we’re friends. I’m sure
she’ll be glad to hear from me. Maybe I can even arrange for some
food to be delivered.”
    I felt better. I had a plan of action. Plus,
I was doing a good deed.
    “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll call Sara
first and express our condolences. Then I’ll call Maria’s Trattoria
and have food delivered to the family. I know Sara’s a gourmet
cook, but everyone loves the food at Maria’s.”
    “I’m not sure calling the Millers is a good
idea, Mom,” said Jenny. “But I know you when your mind’s made up.”
She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “I have to go. For God’s
sake, don’t get into any more trouble today.”
    She threw her arms around me and gave me a
crushing hug.
    “Mom, I love you so much. I’m sorry if I
yelled at you before. But I can’t imagine my life without you in
it.” Then, she was gone.
    “How about that?” I said to Lucy and Ethel.
“I don’t think she’s ever said that to me before. At least, not for
a long time.” We are not an overly demonstrative family.
    I hesitated, mulling over Jenny’s words of
caution. To call, or not to call. That was the question. Heck, I
knew Sara. She probably thought it was odd that I hadn’t called
already.
     
    Three rings. Four rings. Five rings. Six
rings. Then, the Millers’ voice mail kicked in. I realized it was
possible they were screening calls, and perhaps they hadn’t
recognized my number, because I was using a cell phone.
    “Sara, it’s Carol. I’m calling because I
wanted you all to know how terribly sorry Jim and I are about this
tragedy. You must all be beside yourselves.”
    I hear a click, then a high-pitched female
voice which I identified as Sara’s.
    “Sorry, Carol? You called to say you and Jim
are sorry about this tragedy,” she said, mimicking me and throwing
my words back at me.
    “Because of you and Jim, and that awful,
rundown house of yours, my beautiful daughter…” her voice cracked.
“My beautiful daughter is now a widow. And my two precious
grandchildren will grow up without a father.
    “Sorry? You bet you and Jim are going to be
sorry. Chuck and I are going to see to it personally. That old
wreck of a house was full of accidents just waiting to happen.
We’re going to sue you for criminal negligence. And if I can
convince the police, you’ll be charged with manslaughter, too.
    “You’ll be hearing from our attorney.