questions, sir. If I may?” Marc turned to Charley, shoving a Polaroid across the table. “Recognize this dress?”
Charley frowned at the photo. Propped on a folding chair was a life-sized mummy made of cheap plastic. Someone had draped the figure in a beaded dress from the Roaring Twenties. Fringe twinkled, dangling between the canted legs. A tiny green plastic table at the mummy’s right “elbow” held a candle in a clear cut-glass holder and a book with a red and black paper cover. A feathered tiara, matching the dress, lay on the floor.
“This is incredible.” Charley examined the photo more closely. “Where was all this?”
“The mummy was staged inside a storage room off the main activity area,” Paul said. “Lisa’s body was on the floor at the back, near shelves of games, books, and a stereo system.”
Charley shook her head in amazement. “Well, the dress is definitely one of mine. Or it was. A couple of times a year I donate damaged items or things that aren’t selling to the high school drama department. This was with some things I got rid of last fall. These items circulate for years, getting reused and recycled.”
Paul groaned. “There’s no telling how many hands that dress passed through. Plus, Cooper confirmed the mummy is from a box of Halloween decorations in the basement of the OCC. The box is just sitting in the hallway. Anyone could’ve grabbed it.”
Marc sighed. “How many people know about this book club of yours?”
“Besides the members?” Charley thought a moment. “A few people, I suppose. Husbands, friends, family. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“Who chooses the books you read?”
”We all do. Everyone brings suggestions to the June meeting and we vote for our top ten.”
“Top ten?” This from Paul. “I thought you met monthly.”
“We do, except July. But December is always an Agatha Christie classic. Last year we read
The ABC Murders
. This year it’s
And Then There Were None
. Everyone’s read those so many times, we don’t have a presentation. It’s pretty much just a Christmas party.”
“Sounds like fun,” Paul said encouragingly.
“It sounds like a bunch of desperate housewives sitting around, talking about how to commit the perfect murder,” Marc said grimly.
“Now, wait just a minute,” Charley protested, horrified. “You don’t think one of the Agathas is
involved
? That’s ridiculous.”
“What’s so ridiculous about it?” Marc spread his hands. “We’ve been assuming it’s a man, but why assume that? Once the victims were stunned, they were essentially helpless. Yes, the Agathas are women, but they all had knowledge of these scenes. Hell, it sounds like your friends studied them in detail.”
She gaped at him. “It’s simply not possible. I know these women. They’re my…Okay, maybe they’re not my friends, exactly, except for Frankie and Lindy. But I refuse to believe one of them could…They couldn’t…kill someone.”
Paul patted her hand. “Doesn’t mean it’s one of them, young lady. But we have to think logically and take into account all available information, no matter how unpleasant. Nothing is ruled out until we rule it out.”
“I suppose.” She shifted uneasily. “This might be a good time to tell you something I, um, learned. Frankie happens to know the dishwasher at Carmel’s, and we happened to run into him last Thursday, and he, uh, saw a woman. In Serena’s car. Around nine thirty.”
Marc was incredulous, eyes blazing. “You…you…
happened
to…” His mouth opened and closed. Charley lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated.
“Nine-thirty, you say?” Paul pointed at the time line. “That fits with the time of death. Did you get a description? Could it be one of your Agathas?”
Think logically.
She drew a calming breath. “I don’t think so. Mikey says she had shoulder-length brown hair with bangs. Nobody does a Cleopatra cut any—”
“Yes?” Paul prompted when
Charley frowned at the photo. Propped on a folding chair was a life-sized mummy made of cheap plastic. Someone had draped the figure in a beaded dress from the Roaring Twenties. Fringe twinkled, dangling between the canted legs. A tiny green plastic table at the mummy’s right “elbow” held a candle in a clear cut-glass holder and a book with a red and black paper cover. A feathered tiara, matching the dress, lay on the floor.
“This is incredible.” Charley examined the photo more closely. “Where was all this?”
“The mummy was staged inside a storage room off the main activity area,” Paul said. “Lisa’s body was on the floor at the back, near shelves of games, books, and a stereo system.”
Charley shook her head in amazement. “Well, the dress is definitely one of mine. Or it was. A couple of times a year I donate damaged items or things that aren’t selling to the high school drama department. This was with some things I got rid of last fall. These items circulate for years, getting reused and recycled.”
Paul groaned. “There’s no telling how many hands that dress passed through. Plus, Cooper confirmed the mummy is from a box of Halloween decorations in the basement of the OCC. The box is just sitting in the hallway. Anyone could’ve grabbed it.”
Marc sighed. “How many people know about this book club of yours?”
“Besides the members?” Charley thought a moment. “A few people, I suppose. Husbands, friends, family. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“Who chooses the books you read?”
”We all do. Everyone brings suggestions to the June meeting and we vote for our top ten.”
“Top ten?” This from Paul. “I thought you met monthly.”
“We do, except July. But December is always an Agatha Christie classic. Last year we read
The ABC Murders
. This year it’s
And Then There Were None
. Everyone’s read those so many times, we don’t have a presentation. It’s pretty much just a Christmas party.”
“Sounds like fun,” Paul said encouragingly.
“It sounds like a bunch of desperate housewives sitting around, talking about how to commit the perfect murder,” Marc said grimly.
“Now, wait just a minute,” Charley protested, horrified. “You don’t think one of the Agathas is
involved
? That’s ridiculous.”
“What’s so ridiculous about it?” Marc spread his hands. “We’ve been assuming it’s a man, but why assume that? Once the victims were stunned, they were essentially helpless. Yes, the Agathas are women, but they all had knowledge of these scenes. Hell, it sounds like your friends studied them in detail.”
She gaped at him. “It’s simply not possible. I know these women. They’re my…Okay, maybe they’re not my friends, exactly, except for Frankie and Lindy. But I refuse to believe one of them could…They couldn’t…kill someone.”
Paul patted her hand. “Doesn’t mean it’s one of them, young lady. But we have to think logically and take into account all available information, no matter how unpleasant. Nothing is ruled out until we rule it out.”
“I suppose.” She shifted uneasily. “This might be a good time to tell you something I, um, learned. Frankie happens to know the dishwasher at Carmel’s, and we happened to run into him last Thursday, and he, uh, saw a woman. In Serena’s car. Around nine thirty.”
Marc was incredulous, eyes blazing. “You…you…
happened
to…” His mouth opened and closed. Charley lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated.
“Nine-thirty, you say?” Paul pointed at the time line. “That fits with the time of death. Did you get a description? Could it be one of your Agathas?”
Think logically.
She drew a calming breath. “I don’t think so. Mikey says she had shoulder-length brown hair with bangs. Nobody does a Cleopatra cut any—”
“Yes?” Paul prompted when
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