Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,29

my ex, Peter, is a high school chemistry teacher, and back when we were together, we spent a lot of time with other teachers and their families. Being the only one at the time without at least one small child, I didn’t exactly fit in, but when the mothers talked, I listened. And learned. One of the things I learned is that friends often get their children involved in the same activities. If Beth’s Jeremy played for the Tigers, my money was on Celia’s and Glynis’s kids playing on the team, too.

Oh, how I love it when I’m right!

“Celia!” I caught her eye first and closed in. “And Beth and Glynis. What a surprise!”

“Your kids play?” Celia was dressed in blue and white, the colors of the Tigers uniforms. She beamed a smile at me and leaned nearer. “Not on the Rangers, I hope. I hear their coach is a real bear.”

“Oh, no. No soccer for us. The girls just needed to blow off some steam.” I looked over at the play area and at the exact right moment, Wendy waved. I couldn’t have asked for better proof that I was there with real, honest-to-goodness kids. “I didn’t realize there was a soccer game going on.”

“Over on the right, Eli!” Before she turned to me, Glynis yelled to a little boy who looked exactly like her, down to the ash-gray eyes. She, too, was dressed in team colors: blue workout pants, a matching jacket, and a white T-shirt. “Well, this is terrific. We were wondering if we’d see you again. We thought maybe we’d run into you at Churchill Road School.”

Not to worry. Like I said, I’d done my homework. If I found out these women’s children went to private school, I was all set to say mine attended public. If they said public, I’d say exactly what I said, “We’re at St. John’s.”

“Good school.” Beth, looking like the ultimate fan in a blue jumper and white blouse, with a huge Tigers button pinned to her chest, never took her eyes off the game. Jeremy was in the center of the field, standing as still as a statue and looking bewildered while the other boys raced around him and toward the goal. “Go, Jeremy!” Beth yelled, and when the little boy didn’t, she didn’t care, she just yelled some more.

Good friend or not, Celia rolled her eyes. Of course, since Beth was watching the game, she didn’t see it. That gave Glynis a chance to elbow Celia in the ribs.

I pretended not to notice any of it. Instead, I looked over at the play area to make sure the girls weren’t causing any trouble. When I looked back at the game, I realized Celia was looking at the play area, too.

“They don’t look a thing like you,” she said.

“The girls?” Of course she was talking about the girls. Who else would she be talking about? I laughed. “They’ve got my curly hair.” They did, but that had to do with chance, not genetics. “Everything else they got from their father.”

“He’s a redhead?” For one terrible moment, I thought Glynis had made some unlikely and mistaken connection between me and Alex. He, after all, had the flaming hair that cousin Fi inherited from the Bannerman side of the family and her children had gotten from her. If these women thought I had anything to do with the man who’d been charged with killing their friend . . .

I swallowed down the worry. Alex wasn’t the only red-haired man in the world. “It’s their Scottish ancestors,” I said, as truthful as can be. “They got the whole package: the red hair, the freckles, even the tempers. From my family—” A man over on our right attracted my attention, and I didn’t have to worry about bringing my family into this. I was so startled, I blurted out, “Is that Edward Monroe? He’s the soccer coach?”

“The best in the league.” Glynis slid me a look. “At least he’s always been the best in the league. Today, I’m not so sure.”

“Well, the fact that his wife just died might have something to do with it.” I shouldn’t have had to point this out. “Isn’t it a little weird that he’d be here coaching? I mean, after what happened?”

Celia shook her head. There was a folding table of refreshments set up nearby and maybe it was almost halftime or intermission or whatever it is they have in soccer games. She went over to the table,