Prepped to Kill (Ricky Steele Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  I sighed, tired of fighting. “I’m here through next week, but I’ll call when I get home.”

  “Please do. I’ll look forward to it. By the way, that’s very nice of you to fill in as houseparent. I know it was a big relief to Dinny. I’m proud of you.”

  “Dad, it’s a beautiful garden and a wonderful tribute to Rolly. That was very kind of you.”

  “But, I—”

  “I know, Dad.” I squeezed his hand, slipping away as a large florid man bore down upon the high and mighty Ralston Steele.

  Rolly managed to extract himself from his fan club for a few minutes and snuck up behind me. “My day is complete, seeing you two together.”

  “Don’t get too excited.”

  “Families belong together, my dear. Don’t forget that. Listen, have you got a minute?” Taking my arm, he led me away from the crowd, down the garden path leading to the quad. “I need to talk with you privately. It’s rather important.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t go into it now. Dinny has told me the real reason why you’re here. I must admit, I was surprised at your career choice, but somehow it suits you.”

  “Rolly, it’s all a big misunderstanding. I’m not a—”

  “No time now, dear. I’m afraid another well-wisher is headed this way. Could you possibly meet me later on?”

  “Oh, Rolly, I’m sorry. I’m having dinner with Lolly and Katie.”

  “Yes, I spied those two. You three seem to be having a wonderful time.” His eyes darted from me to the crowd behind us.

  “I can come by after dinner, at around ten or eleven?”

  “No, that’s quite all right. It can wait till tomorrow. Let’s see, I expect you’ll be brunching with the girls.”

  I nodded. “But both Katie and Lolly have to leave by late morning.”

  “Well, then, how ‘bout lunch? My house? Say around twelve or one?”

  “Twelve’s perfect. I’ll be there. Can I bring something?”

  “Just yourself, my dear. Why, hello, Steven.” He nodded to someone behind me, circling round to greet the newcomer as he patted my arm. “Have a good evening and say hello to Lolanda and Katherine for me, will you?”

  Numbers were dwindling. I scanned the crowd and spied Dinny cornered by Jared at the edge of the garden, looking as if he was enduring Chinese water torture. Steele to the rescue, I thought, taking a quick survey of the crowd. Katie was still manhandling poor Ellen with Lolly looking embarrassed and uncomfortable alongside them. What in the world could she be talking about?

  I headed toward Dinny and his tormenter.

  “I’m not gonna wait much longer, Dinny.”

  I sidled up to stand next to Dinny. “Excuse me, Mr. Phelps. I’m afraid I have to steal Mr. Petty for a few minutes. You’ve monopolized him long enough.” I batted my eyelashes. “It’s private, if you don’t mind.” I steered Dinny away, smiling over my shoulder, leaving Jared glaring in our wake.

  “I didn’t need that, you know.”

  “I know, but I did. As a loyal alumna, I can’t stand by and watch our headmaster tortured.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to try and comfort your headmaster after such a long and brutal day?” He brushed against me and my libido went into overdrive.

  The man had no shame. “I met Ellen. She’s nice. I like her. In fact, she’s just the kind of person I could be friends with, you know?” I wasn’t lying. I had liked her. Anyone who could endure twenty minutes of Katie’s babbling had to be a saint. “Besides, I’m busy tonight. It’s my reunion, remember?”

  “At least I’ll have you to myself all week.” He nodded to someone over my head. “Gotta go mingle. Thanks for saving me. Jared’s leaving, thank goodness.” As he moved to greet the man behind me, his hand grazed my hip, lingering a trifle longer than politeness allowed. All week, indeed. Who did he think I was, the campus concubine?

  Now it was time to rescue Ellen Petty. I strolled over and collected Lolly and Katie with a “So nice to see you, Ellen, but we’ve got to get going or we’ll be late for our dinner reservations.”

  She waved, a bemused expression playing over her delicate features as she watched me drag Katie away. “I hope I’ll see you this week.”

  Katie fussed all the way back to the car. What was I thinking? We had plenty of time, and she and Ellen were having a great time reminiscing about Wellesley days.

  Katie followed us back to the Breeze Bye in her Suburban, horrified when she saw where we were staying. Katie’s father had been one of the country’s top neurosurgeons so she never ventured far from a Ritz when she traveled. I always wondered what the patrician, snobbish Dr. Briarwood thought of Bob. Good-natured, blue-collar Bob, the first non-preppy Katie had ever dated.

  Lolly and I decided it would be fun to sic Katie on Amanda Breeze or vice versa, so while we showered we sent her on an errand to the lobby, ostensibly to borrow a newspaper in case we wanted to take in a movie. She returned forty-five minutes later, finding me lounging on the bed, sipping a whiskey as Lolly dried her hair.

  “Thank goodness Mandy had some wine in the office. You guys, you know I hate Jack Daniel’s. Least you could have done is get in a bottle of Sutter Home, what with no mini bar.” In her hand was a large mayonnaise jar holding what looked like pink urine. Lolly and I gaped. There was nothing left to say. Mandy, indeed.

  CHAPTER 16

  We arrived at the Tavern early and were ushered straight to our table by Mr. Jim, a dapper little man with waxed mustache and shiny black shoes. Unbeknownst to Lolly and me, Katie had invited several of our fellow classmates to join us for dinner. When she had announced this on the drive to the Tavern, we had threatened to go elsewhere. Instead, we sat across the table grinning through gritted teeth at Sally Cooper, Bitsy Wedgehammer, and Margot Peterman. During our Whitley years, Sally and Margot had been ringleaders of a snobbish clique, none of whom acknowledged us. Now, forty years later, they were our best friends. Bitsy, like Katie, had been everyone’s friend, and still possessed an open, trusting nature. Who else would have printed my private eye nonsense in The Wheel?

  In fact, she started in on my brilliant career as soon as we sat down. “So, Ricky, tell—what’s it like being a PI? Golly, it must be so exciting and dangerous. Do you carry a gun?” With the exception of Lolly, the others looked at Bitsy as if she’d sprouted red horns and carried a trident.

  Noticing everyone’s surprised faces, Bitsy rolled her eyes, heaving a long sigh. “Well, gee whiz, you guys. I spend weeks on our class’s entry to The Wheel and for what? Clearly none of you read it. It’s insulting, if you want to know the truth.”

  “What are you yammering about, Bitsy?” Margot said, giving a mediocre Marlene Dietrich impersonation.

  “Hello? I’m talking about the most recent issue of The Wheel, where Ricky wrote in about her PI business. I’m surprised at you, Briarwood. You’re usually so good about submitting.”

  If Katie’s jaw had dropped any further it would have landed in her lap.

  “Look, it’s no big deal,” I said, catching the hurt in Katie’s eyes. “It’s just one of my many sidelines.”

  “Oh, and what would those be?” Margot leaned forward, flipping her blond hair back, over her shoulder. Bleach blond, the snow-white tint several shades lighter than it had been during her school days. Once upon a time I had thought Margot attractive. Now she reminded me of a gray, hairy spider, ready to pounce on her prey. Anorexically thin, the bones of her wide, angular face looked sepulchral in the dim light of the candlelit Tavern, every shadow, every line in sharp relief. She wore a gray cotton tee shirt with matching slacks, a single strand of pearls round her neck. Simple, elegant, sophisticated attire, but tonight, it struck me as boring, the woman wearing it an empty shell. For some reason, this realization made me angry, as if all that I had admired as an adolescent had been a sham.

  “Margot, I can’t believe you really want to know.”

  Katie found her voice at last.
“Well, I do!”

  “Yes, do tell us.” Bitsy leaned forward, nearly knocking over her blush wine.

  “Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid. I take mostly domestic cases and routine insurance investigations. There’s no danger. I don’t own a gun. Period, end of story.”

  “Hey, guys, faculty members at three o’clock.” Lolly nodded, looking toward the door.

  Sally sniffed. “It’s that awful art teacher, what’s her name, Parnell? I hear she’s a first-class bitch. I have a friend whose daughter just graduated. Says the woman’s sadistic. Sure looks like it. What a sourpuss.”

  I turned to see Christine and three others, two men and a woman I didn’t recognize, heading for a table near the fireplace. “Excuse me,” I said, rising to use the ladies’ room, directly beyond where Christine’s group was seated. Lolly gave me a sharp look, but I ignored her.

  As I neared the table, Christine looked up, spying me. Her expression registered displeasure, which she quickly masked with false cheerfulness. “Well, everyone, look who’s here. It’s our newest housemother.” At that moment another diner materialized at my side. “Judith, sit over here,” Christine said, patting an empty chair beside her. “You’ll be interested in this.”

  This, indeed. Judith looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her. “Hi.” I smiled through gritted teeth. “I thought the Tavern only attracted alumni and parents. I didn’t realize it was a faculty hangout.”

  “It’s my wife’s birthday,” one of the men said, rising slightly, stretching his hand across the table. “Rich Naylor, Dean of Students. And this is my wife, Robin. You must be Ms. Steele. Dinny told me about you this afternoon. Welcome back.” Robin waved, sitting back in her chair, exercising her woman’s prerogative not to shake hands. Her short chestnut hair, bobbed at odd angles, gave her the look of a page, or maybe an elf. She appeared to be infinitely more interested in the buttons of her blue oxford shirt than in me. Her clean-cut, sandy-haired husband took his seat, draping his arm across her shoulders. It might have been my imagination, but Robin appeared to stiffen under the embrace even as she continued her button fixation.

  I introduced myself to the other members of the party. Judith Freeman, the lacrosse coach, looked different without the baseball cap and scowl she had worn the day of the game. Christine’s husband, Tim, a pale, nondescript little man, rose and greeted me warmly. He looked as if he wished to be anywhere but sitting with this group. In contrast to his wife’s flamboyance in manner and attire, Tim Parnell was soft-spoken, dressed in khakis and a V-neck sweater. His wispy brown hair receded sharply, revealing a widening bald spot. At the moment, he was combing over, but pretty soon he’d have to give in to the inevitable or buy a toupee.

  Over six feet tall, Judith Freeman was built like a brick shithouse. Her broad shoulders strained the neck of the tank top, obviously worn to show off an impressive set of biceps. Miss Universe came to mind. Her dark eyes studied me. If she had been a man, her ogling would have offended me. “You’re the lacrosse coach. Saw you in action yesterday. Your team has a lot of heart.”

  She snorted. “Thanks, but we stink. It’s a building year. Six of our starters graduated last year.”

  “Missy Franklin disappearing couldn’t have helped. I hear she was pretty good.”

  Freeman shrugged. “You a lacrosse player?”

  “Softball.”

  “Figures. Ever get past the ‘throw like a girl’ stage or were you just taking care of your PE requirement?”

  I shrugged, not about to get into a debate about women’s athletics with macho-woman. “Well, nice meeting you all. I hope I’ll bump into you again this week.”

  “Count on it,” Naylor said, rising again. “We’ll see you at faculty meeting, Monday morning, seven thirty?”

  I almost forgot to use the ladies’ room. At the last minute, I caught myself and turned back. I was washing my hands when Christine Parnell stepped through the door. Instead of heading for the stalls, she approached the sink and turned on the water. I gazed into the mirror, not surprised to find her staring at me. “A piece of advice, Miss Steele. I know you’re just temporary faculty, but I’d be careful whose toes you step on. Jared has a lot of friends in this community.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Listen, hon, don’t play coy with me. I saw you this afternoon. Jared told me what you said. I’m just telling you to be careful.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  She shrugged, turning to grab a towel. “Take it as friendly advice, why don’t you? None of us want to see Jared hurt or trashed by anyone, especially an outsider.”

  “I’m not sure what you saw or heard, but I wasn’t trashing Mr. Phelps. He was doing a fine job on his own. He certainly didn’t need my help. And I don’t know him well enough to hurt him.” I turned heel, leaving her to glare at her own reflection.

  My hasty retreat launched me straight into the arms of Gerry Weinstein, who appeared to be headed toward the birthday celebration, Wendy in tow. “Whoa, Ms. Steele—nice bumping into you again.” He steadied me first, hands on my shoulders, before moving to a respectable arm’s length.

  Wendy’s eyes registered surprise and something else, her hands on hips posture not entirely friendly. “If I were the jealous type, you’d be in trouble, sweetie.”

  I extracted myself from Gerry’s grasp, stepping back. “Sorry, a little too much wine, I guess, and—”

  “Too much nosiness is more like it.” Christine said, coming to stand beside me.

  Gerry looked from one to the other of us, a wide grin playing across his face. He was very good-looking and didn’t he know it? “Hey, Chris. What’dya say, Ms. Steele, wanna join the birthday celebration?”

  “No, thanks,” I said, noticing the daggers Christine was shooting in our direction. “I’m with my classmates. We’re reuning and all. Nice to see you again. Sorry for the collision. Enjoy yourselves.”

  As Christine marched away, Wendy leaned toward me and whispered, “Can I join you? Hell of a lot more fun than those snoots.”

  Before I had a chance to respond, they were on the move. As Gerry led her away, she gave me a backward wave.

  CHAPTER 17

  When I returned to the table, Sally was waxing on about the dearth of “really good bistros” in the Westfield area, so I slid in beside Lolly, glad to take a back seat in the conversation. Except for Margot, who ordered a green salad, dressing on the side and a shrimp cocktail, we all had the Tavern’s signature dish—roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

  “Saw you talking to the Dragon Lady,” Sally said, all thoughts of bistros forgotten. “And all those others, most of them teachers, I think.”

  “One was the lacrosse coach, and we met the dean of students, Rich Naylor, at the lunch, remember? That’s his wife with him. It’s her birthday, apparently.”

  “How about the gorgeous guy you accosted outside the bathroom?” Margot said, gazing across the room.

  “Gerry Weinstein. He’s the chemistry teacher,” Sally said. “What a cutie. Campus hunk from what I hear.”

  “And I did not accost him. It was an accident. I was fleeing the Dragon Lady, if you must know.”

  Bitsy leaned across the table, whispering, “What happened? What did she say?”

  “Not much… Just being her usual friendly self.”

  Bitsy shook her head. “Far cry from our day, isn’t it, girls? We had a bunch of geriatric teachers and senile housemothers and look what they have now. In our day, the only teachers I remember who were under sixty-five were Mr. Danforth and Dinny.”

  “Oh, there were a few more than that,” Margot purred, leaning back in her chair. “And Dinny was always willing to play, wasn’t he?”

  Our food arrived at that moment and conversation turned to catching up on the last forty years. A few snatches of campus gossip slipped in from time to time, mostly from the loose lips of Sally. According to her, the Naylors were having marital problems, or was it money problems? The Parnells were a
couple in name only because she was “such a bitch and he’s such a peach,” and there was always some kind of hanky-panky going on in the dorms.

  I would have liked to query Margot further about Dinny being a player, but the opportunity never afforded itself. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that he had slept with Margot and half her crowd back in the day.

  CHAPTER 18

  After our heavy, albeit sinfully delicious, meal, we parted company with the others, who were heading downstairs to the Tavern lounge. Lolly was determined to find Harrigan’s and Katie assured us that she knew the way, “like the back of my hand.” She did.

  Harrigan’s sign was new, a carved wooden job replacing the glowing neon oval. This was only one of many changes. Inside, the place had been gutted and the dark wood paneling had been painted eggshell white. Formica table tops had been replaced by artsy-looking mosaics, the jukebox nowhere in sight. The only thing I recognized was the bar, its smooth mahogany surface gleaming. All the nicks had been filled in and a recent refinishing job had added many coats of glossy varnish.

  “What happened here?” Lolly said to no one in particular.

  The bartender replied, “Evening, ladies. What can I get you?”

  Lolly stared at him hard. “Is this under new management?”

  “No, ma’am. Been in the Harrigan family nearly sixty years. Junior still runs it. Not here now, though.”

  “What about Mr. Harrigan Senior?” Katie asked, slipping onto a bar stool.

  “Oh, he’s around. He’s retired, but he comes in now and then. You girls don’t look old enough to remember him.”

  “Well, we are and we do. We were looking forward to a drink with him in the backroom,” Lolly said. “Is it still there?”

  “Yup. Not for customers, though. It’s stacked to the ceiling with cases of beer.”

  Letting out a collective groan, we ordered drinks anyway.