Chapter 51
SOPHIE
After we moved in together, I realized that whenever I tucked my feet under myself on a sofa, Nicholas gave me a smoldering look.
Was it just him? Did other men have a thing for women on couches?
I had no idea. That felt like the level of question the Murder Collective was qualified to answer, but sadly we were too busy with a murder investigation for me to ask.
Well, mostly we were waiting for CJ to join us, now that she was out of jail.
We had questions for her, by which I mean Lily-Ann had questions for her.
Also, Ocean had … I didn’t know what. Second thoughts?
Desperate hopes? Acute regrets? Mostly just insecurity for dating a woman accused of murder.
Poor Ocean. She deserved love more than anyone, she was so generous with herself, with her strength and her kindness, yet she was starting to think her love life was cursed.
The rest of us mostly wanted to judge for ourselves if CJ was likely to flee to Mexico, dodging her court appearances, violating the property bond, and making us homeless.
While we waited, Lily-Ann talked us through our current priorities. All of us except Mrs. B, who was coming with CJ. Well, and Anthony, who was at work. So Nicholas, Ocean, and I made suggestions while Hamilton took notes on his whiteboard.
THE TINY QUESTIONS
1) Is there a secret from George and Helene’s (aka Beard and Bird) shared past with Frank that they need to keep hidden? Sophie wants a dark backstory.
2) How much did Jane Sheffield’s personal success depend on Frank’s donations to World of Goods? Why didn’t he support her more with this Big Award she wanted?
3) Did Jane’s husbands die naturally?
“That doesn’t even rise to the level of an unimportant question,” Lily-Ann said when Hamilton added the last one himself. “She wasn’t married to Frank.”
“On the other hand,” Hamilton told her, “I am in charge of the whiteboard.”
“The first rule of brainstorming club,” Ocean told Lily-Ann, “is not to judge the brainstorming.”
“Because suspending judgment is such a productive approach.”
“Exactly,” Ocean said, ignoring her sarcasm. “Does anyone have anything about Pax the masseuse?”
Nicholas and I collaborated on the next one.
4) Was Pax having an affair with anyone?
5) C’mon, he’s hot and this is a bunch of rich people! Surely, they were sleeping around.
“Now CJ,” Lily-Ann said.
“We can’t write down our doubts about CJ,” I told her. “She’ll be here any minute.”
“She can answer them when she arrives.”
“Uh, no. Suspecting her of murder is insulting. For her and—” I glanced at Ocean. “—and maybe Mrs. B.”
“Ah,” Lily-Ann said, and I could tell she wanted to ask why that mattered but she didn’t. “So with CJ, we’re wondering about the bag of cash and the homicidal web searching.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds bad,” I said, and decided not to mention my suspicions about ice cubes.
Lily-Ann cleared her throat, then told Hamilton to start listing the more pressing items.
THE BIG QUESTIONS
1) What if several guests worked together to kill Frank?
2) Did Karina want to remodel the mansion so much that she killed her husband? Why else would she want to get her hands on the money immediately?
3) Was the liquor bottle rigged to fall? If not, did the accident lead to a crime of opportunity?
4) Karina happened to discover the bag of cash? Suspicious timing. What was purpose of cash?
5) What led Sunny Wheeler to “suddenly” remember seeing CJ push Frank? What does he gain from his testimony?
6) Frank bailed Sunny out of a scandal? What exactly happened? Is Sunny hiding something? Did Frank know his secret?
“So Sunny Wheeler is our second priority,” Lily-Ann said, as Hamilton wrote. “Or he’s tied for second with Karina, but the grieving widow is difficult to question.”
“We can corner her at the memorial service,” Hamilton said.
“There’s a memorial service?” Lily-Ann asked.
“Of course there’s a memorial service,” I told her. “And we are not cornering her there.”
“Maybe ‘cornering’ was the wrong word,” Hamilton said.
“Questioning?” Lily-Ann suggested.
Nicholas nodded. “Sure, everyone loves uninvited guests questioning the widow at a funeral.”
“Fine,” Hamilton said. “I’ll cross the memorial service off my list.”
“Why?” Lily-Ann asked.
I didn’t want him to encourage her to crash the memorial service, so I said, “If Sunny and Karina are the second priority, who’s the first?”
“CJ,” Lily-Ann told me. “We need to agree what to ask her before she gets here.”
“Shouldn’t we brainstorm that with Mrs. B?” I asked. “It’s her property on the line.”
“God, no,” Ocean said. “She’ll ask any old nonsense, like she did at the dermatologist.”
“Would you stop dropping hints about that?” I demanded. “What did she do?”
“The wound is too raw. Maybe in a few months I can speak of it.”
“C’mon, spill.”
“You know you want to,” Hamilton said.
“Fine.” Ocean took a breath. “Mrs. B’s been going to the same dermatologist for ten years, okay?
She loves him. She says he’s gay and married and lovely.
I didn’t want her driving herself, so I went in with her for her scan.
” Ocean took a slug of beer, then stared at the bottle in horror.
“What the heck, Hamilton, why can’t you buy normal beer? ”
“It’s hickory-flavored,” Hamilton told her.
Ocean plopped the beer bottle on the table. “Ugh, the aftertaste.”
“Back to the derm,” I said. “Please.”
“Right, so I’m with her in the office. She asks about the doctor’s family and he says, ‘Oooh, we’re pregnant!’ And Mrs. B says, ‘Mazel tov.’”
“So far so good,” Nicholas said.
“Right. Now guess what she asked next.”
“Uh, when’s the due date?” I asked.
“If they chose a name,” Hamilton suggested.
Ocean spread her arms as if to appeal to the group. “Both good questions, the kinds of things a human might ask. But no. No, that’s not what she said.”
“What’d she say?” I asked.
“She said, and I am not making this up, ‘Mazel tov! Did you use your sperm?’”
Hamilton barked a laugh and Nicholas groaned but Lily-Ann tilted her head. “In a marriage with two men, surely that’s not an entirely incomprehensible question.”
“Sperm is never a polite subject, Lily-Ann,” Nicholas said.
“I’m not done!” Ocean said. “So she said, did you use your sperm? Now guess how the doctor answered.”
“Yes?” I said, while Nicholas said, “No?”
Ocean exhaled deeply. “After a pause that lasted way too long, he said, and I quote, ‘Yes, and my wife’s egg.’”
“No!” I said.
“What?” Lily-Ann asked.
“He’s not gay,” Ocean explained.
“He’s not gay,” I repeated, to Lily-Ann. “So what happened was, this straight doctor told an old lady that his wife was pregnant and she said, ‘With whose sperm?’”
Hamilton drained his beer. “Wow.”
“Very wow,” Ocean agreed. “Now guess why she thought he was—”
The door to Hamilton’s cottage opened and CJ helped Mrs. B inside. Not that she needed help, but I knew her tricks now: she was helping CJ by pretending that she needed help. Vintage Mrs. B.
“Welcome back,” I told CJ. “I’m so glad you’re, um…”
“Free,” Lily-Ann said.
“Free as a bird!” Mrs. B said.
“Free as a canary,” Hamilton said. “On a hot tin roof!”
Which pretty much ended that conversation.