Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,27
opening. “Are you really going to try and find out what made Vickie tick? I mean, by hanging around with her friends?”
We’d talked about the plan on the way over to the boutique, but since Eve was driving at the time and since driving and Eve are almost as impossible a combination as Eve and not trying on beautiful clothes when they’re within an arm’s length, I knew she hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention.
“It’s the perfect plan,” I reminded her. “And as far as I can see, it’s the only way to try and make some sense of this whole thing. What would make a perfect wife and mother hang out regularly in a bar with a man she had no intention of ever having any sort of real relationship with? I don’t know, Eve, I just don’t get it.”
Eve turned this way and that, the better to see herself from all sides in the mirror. Every side looked good. “Maybe Vickie was lonely,” she said. “Or maybe she hated her life.”
“What was to hate? She had a successful husband, two beautiful little kids, a fabulous home. I should know, I’ve driven by the house a couple times, just to try and get a sense of what kind of woman she was. And I’ve learned a lot. The house is showy. I mean, three stories, a circular drive, landscaped to the nth degree. So I know she liked things to be just so. And I know she and Edward must have a healthy income, because there’s no way anybody lives in a house like that unless they’ve got money to burn. What I don’t know is anything about Vickie personally. If I can get in good with Celia, Glynis, and Beth . . . well, they were her best friends. They knew her better than anybody did.”
“So you’re going to pretend you live in the neighborhood? That you’re one of them?”
The way Eve said it, it would be like admitting I was an alien being beamed down from a faraway planet. “Is it that weird? They’re women. I’m a woman. They’re wives. I’m almost a wife. And I used to be a wife, remember. They’re mothers and, no, I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been paying attention all these years. Lots of mothers come into Bellywasher’s. I hear them talking about their kids. And lots of them used to come into the bank with their kids.” Some of the memories of those incidents made me cringe. “I’ve seen it all, Eve. I can talk the talk and I can walk the walk.”
“And you’re not just doing this to try and satisfy some fantasy you have about your dream life as a suburban wife and mother?”
When it comes to psychology, Eve is not usually so insightful. In fact, she’s not usually insightful at all. The fact that this was a momentous occasion showed just how close we were as friends. She could practically read my mind.
All the more reason I had to deny it.
“Really, Eve, you know I’m not that type.”
She gave herself another once-over in the mirror, then checked out the price tag on the dress again. “And what type is that?” she asked. “The type who isn’t afraid to admit that even though she’s practical and down-to-earth, it doesn’t hurt to dream once in a while? You know, go crazy and go after the wild impossibilities.”
“You mean like you wearing that green cocktail dress to my wedding.”
“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with saying you want a big house and a great, successful husband, and a whole bunch of wonderful, beautiful kids.”
“I am going to have a great husband,” I reminded her. “The greatest. And yes, I’d like a whole bunch of wonderful, beautiful kids. One of these days. As far as the successful husband, I’m willing to judge success any way Jim does. If that means Bellywasher’s turns a profit at the end of the year, that’s good enough for me. If it means some rah-rah write-up in one of the local papers, that’s OK, too. As far as the big house, I know better than that. I’m not kidding myself. And I’m not jealous of people who do have incredible houses. I’m happy with what I have.”
“That’s why you’re going to pretend you’re one of them.”
“It’s not like I’m trying to scam them out of their life savings or anything.” This went without saying, but I said it anyway. “All I’m trying to