Tracy Kiely - Murder Most Persuasive

He turned to Kit. “Hey, babe. How was the funeral?”

While I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the question, Kit put her hands on her hips and glared at Paul. “Did I hear you correctly? Are you going into the store? Today? Now?”

“Babe, come on. It’s the high season for hot tubs. You know that. The store is packed today. As manager, I have to be there. This could mean a big bonus for us.”

“You’re really going to leave? I just came home from burying my uncle! I’m exhausted!” Kit cried.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that they actually made you dig the hole!” Paul shot back. “If you’re that tired, take a nap. I’m sure Elizabeth can watch Pauly,” he casually offered.

“But that’s not the point,” Kit began.

“Kit, he’s right,” I said. “I have the whole day off. You go take a nap. Let Paul go to the store. I can watch Pauly.” Turning to Pauly, I said, “Come on, little man, let’s go play Candy Land. But I get to be the blue guy.”

“Deal!” said Pauly, breaking into a run to his room to get the game.

“Thanks, Elizabeth,” said Paul. Looking back at Kit, he said, “Babe, don’t be this way. I have to go in to work. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I’ll try not to be too late.” Giving her a peck on the cheek, he waved good-bye to me and yelled to Pauly, “I’m leaving now, Pauly. Love you, buddy. Play nice with your aunt Elizabeth!” Two seconds later, he was out the door. I turned to Kit, about to say, “Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not his province,” but then I saw her face and thought better of the idea.

Kit frowned at the door Paul had just exited before storming up the stairs to her bedroom. “Men,” I heard her mumble before shutting the door behind her.

“Sisters,” I added under my breath before heading to Pauly’s room for a rousing game of Candy Land.

Two hours later, after multiple trips to the Candy Cane Forest and Gum Drop Mountain and hanging out with Princess Frostine, I felt like a diabetic in need of an insulin shot. Happily, Pauly seemed as exhausted as I felt, and I had no problem convincing him to take a nap. I tucked him into his Pottery Barn Speedboat bed, which Kit paid through the nose for after getting into a bidding war over it on eBay. Given the final price of the bed, I suspected that Pauly would be stuck with it all the way through high school. But who knows? It just might have been wise parenting on Kit’s part. I mean, I doubt the kid was ever going to try and sneak any girls into his room to make out on the plank detailing.

Once I was sure that Pauly was asleep, I headed for my room and flopped on my bed. Immediately, the lyrics to “I Wanna Be Like You” from Disney’s The Jungle Book burst into my brain. It wasn’t my fault. My room was the future nursery, and Kit had decided to go with a—you guessed it—jungle theme. Everywhere I looked animals of all shapes and sizes crowded together and gazed back at me. On the walls, painted monkeys and chimpanzees swung from twisted branches. From the closet doors, an elephant and a rhino peered out from behind a giant bush. On the ceiling, a giraffe leaned toward a full green leaf, its long blue-black tongue extended to take a bite.

I tried really hard not to look at the ceiling if I could help it.

When I’d moved in, Peter had taken one look at the room and reprogrammed the ring tone on his phone to play “Jungle Fever” every time I called. I did so now.

“Hey there!” he said. “I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?”

“Pretty good,” I said, scooting back on the bed so I could rest my head on the pillows all the while keeping my eyes averted from the ceiling. “Aunt Winnie says hi.”

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there. But I think we’re close to signing the deal.”

“That’s great!” I said. Peter was in San Diego overseeing negotiations for a new property. He’d promised to fly me out there for a getaway weekend if the deal went through. “When do you think you’ll be done?”

“What’s today? Tuesday? Probably by Friday. Think you can sneak away for the weekend? Or does Kit not let you take off weekends?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve started a tunnel to the outside from my bedroom closet. I dump the dirt out of my pants pockets when I take Pauly to the playground. By Friday, it should be ready. I already have the papier-mâché of my head completed.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you on the outside.”

We chatted a little while longer until Peter had to go. Before he hung up, he once again tried to convince me to stay at his place while my apartment was being redone. “The commute can’t be as bad as that tongue on your ceiling,” he said.

“You might have a point there,” I said with an uneasy glance upward.

“I do have a point. We’ll talk more Friday.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“Hang tough. I love you.”

My heart made that little flip-flop it did every time he said that. “I love you, too,” I said.

I hung up and rolled off the bed. Stepping out into the hall, I listened for signs of activity from Kit’s room but heard nothing. Peeking into Pauly’s room, I saw that he was still asleep, curled up with an assortment of wooden trains.

Heading downstairs, I looked at the clock. Seeing that it was five thirty, I cleaned up the kitchen and living room for Kit and then started dinner. Around six o’clock, Pauly woke up and came stumbling into the kitchen, wiping the sleep from his eyes. A few minutes later, Kit emerged from her room as well. “Oh, thanks, Elizabeth,” she said, when she saw that I’d started dinner. “I’m sorry you’ve been stuck doing so much. I just don’t have any energy these days. This pregnancy is really taking a toll on me.”

Sliding into a chair at the kitchen table, she pulled Pauly onto her lap. “We are very lucky to have Aunt Elizabeth staying with us, you know that, buddy?” she said, laying her blond head on his. Pauly nodded and grinned at me.

I smiled back and thought that Kit wasn’t all bad. After all, she was eight months pregnant and undoubtedly exhausted. Taking care of Pauly and the house had to be draining even when enjoying the best of health. She then ruined my newfound goodwill by suddenly frowning at the stove and asking, “Wait. Are you making spaghetti? Again?”

Aunt Winnie’s advice that “Patience is a virtue” popped into my head, reminding me of my own version of patience. I wondered where Kit kept the booze. Maybe I could make a nice vodka sauce for tonight.

Paul was home in time for dinner, which was good, as Kit tended to pout when he was late. Thankfully, he took over after dinner, cleaning up and giving Pauly his bath. While Kit prepared to snuggle in with Pauly and read him a Thomas the Tank Engine adventure, Paul turned to me and said, “Hey, Elizabeth, how about we go test out the new hot tub? It’s the latest model, you know.”

I did indeed know. It was a frequent topic of conversation. In fact, I think I could get a job at Paul’s store with all the “portable spa” knowledge I’d amassed in the last week. For instance, the model that Paul had installed was the Vanguard. It boasted a gray spa-stone surround, four-zone multicolor lighting, an integrated MP3 sound system, and a total of thirty-two jets. It could comfortably hold six adults and four hundred gallons of water or the entire cast of The Jersey Shore . Hair gel was optional.

“That’s not fair!” said Kit. “Elizabeth gets to use it before me! You know I can’t go in while I’m pregnant!”

Paul shot her an irritated look and Kit realized how horrible she sounded. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “I’m just grumpy, I guess. You guys go enjoy the tub. I’ll get Pauly to bed.”