Silence Of The Hams by Jill Churchill Page A

of them. The old Sarah was very well-liked and the new version of her is as bland as a mouse. But I didn’t know her well when we were young and don’t know her now either. The same goes for Grace. I like her, but really don’t know much about her. She mentioned a nasty divorce. Her former husband could be a real vindictive sort.“
    “But since it’s not murder anymore, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,“ Jane said.
    She got out of the driver’s seat, opened the back door, and gathered up her library books from the floor of the station wagon. “You need anything here? Are you coming in?“
    “No, I’m going to sit here and think. You know, Jane, instead of losing interest in this now that it’s not a murder case, I find my curiosity piqued. Why risk being hauled in for an imaginary murder? I can’t fathom it.“
    “Me neither. If the autopsy guy hadn’t been up to par and it went on the record as a murder, somebody would have been in a lot of trouble. They’d have probably been convicted of a murder they really didn’t commit. It was a huge risk. I’ll only be a minute. One of these is overdue and I have to pay the fine.”
    When Jane came back out of the library, Shelley was standing by a trash barrel, the now-empty car ashtray in her hand. She was staring into space.
    “You just can’t resist cleaning up things, can you,“ Jane said, jiggling her elbow.
    Shelley got back into the car and fitted the ashtray into place. “What if making his death look like murder was meant to get someone else in trouble?“
    “Like how?“
    “I’m not sure. The idea’s still coming together.“ She thought for a minute. “Okay. How’s this? If I really disliked somebody at the deli opening and in innocently wandering around, looking the place over, suppose I came across a dead Stonecipher. I might think, ah-hah! My great enemy Suzie Q is out there wearing that sweater that sheds all over the place. If I push this rack over and make it look like Stonecipher was killed and then shove some of that sweater fuzz under the rack, maybe the police will think she killed him and she’ll be in a lot of trouble.“
    “How would you know how the dead Stonecipher had died? Or even that he was dead, and not just in a faint? And why would you risk being seen coming out of the storage room not only once, but twice?“ Jane asked. And then she laughed. “Not to mention having to go pluck Suzie Q’s sweater in full view of a crowd of people.”
    Shelley didn’t look chastened. “Hmm. Guess that one won’t fly. Where are we going next?“
    “Shoe repair.“
    “Not the taupe heels again. Jane, why don’t you break down and buy new shoes to replace them?“
    “Because I love those shoes. If I could get exact duplicates, I would. You know that commercial where the women are playing basketball in their high heels? I could do that in these shoes. If I ever had the desire to play basketball. Which I haven’t.“
    “I did that once,“ Shelley said.
    “Played basketball?“
    “No. Got smart when I realized I loved a green plaid blouse better than I’d ever loved a piece of clothing. I went back to the store and they still had one in the same size. I bought it, put it away in the cedar chest, and wore the first one for a couple years until it was almost in tatters. I finally threw it away, feeling terribly smug that I had a replacement. But when I got out the next one, I discovered that it had aged just as fast as the one I’d worn. I wore it twice and it fell apart in the wash. I was crushed.”
    When Jane had once again entrusted her beloved shoes to the repairman, they headed for the giant discount store where Jane intended to buy a lampshade to replace the one the cats had clawed. But the Saturday parking lot was so full they gave up. “Did you see those perfectly healthy, agile yuppies park in the handicapped place and bound out of their car?“ Jane fumed.
    Shelley grinned. “My mother gets so mad about that. She