Jill Churchill: Silence of the Hams

“It is not a graduation present, Katie. It's because Mike needed it for his job." But Katie's grin at this disclaimer said it all. She'd have a delivery job, too, when the time came. Jane patted the hood of the station wagon and said, "Pull yourself together, old dear. We're in this together for life." She added, "Mike, why are you here instead of working?"

“I was delivering dinner to Mrs. Williams and saw Katie in the yard. I'm off. Oh, by the way, Mom, Mrs. Baker's in the hospital."

“Oh, no! What happened to her?”

Mike came over to talk to her quietly without his siblings listening. "She went to pieces about that guy dying. I mean, it was awful and I'm glad I wasn't there, but she just went bonkers and they took her away, too. Just thought you might want to know. You going to the twerp's graduation tonight? That's kinda dumb, a grade school graduation."

“You didn't think so when it was yours," Jane said.

“Sure I did. I just went along with it for your sake," Mike said with a grin. "See you later. Scott and I are going out after work to show off The Beast."

“Don't be late. Tomorrow's going to be a long day. Remember, you have to be up early to pick up your cap and gown.”

Mike had to practically peel his younger brother and sister off his new truck before he could get away.

Jane threw together a quick dinner and hastily sewed a button on the shirt Todd was wearing that evening. Thanks to a revolt among the parents two years earlier, the boys no longer had to wear expensive little suits they'd outgrow in two weeks for the grade school commencement, as they had when Mike graduated. The girls still insisted on dressing like princesses, but the boys only had to be forced into button-up shirts and ties.

The ceremony, Jane had to admit, was charming. Partly because it didn't have any genuine significance like a high school graduation, and also because the school principal didn't appear to take it terribly seriously. It was more of a party atmosphere than a mock-serious occasion. There was a processional — nobody had figured out a way to avoid that — and a mercifully short speech by the principal, then a couple upbeat songs by the chorus and the awarding of certificates of graduation. It was over in just under forty-five minutes. Andthat included the punch and cookies afterward.

“Wow, that was almost painless," Shelley said as they walked back to the car. Their boys trailed behind them. "Well, except for your mother-in-law being there.”

Thelma Jeffry had insisted on trying to treat it as a maudlin occasion, but Shelley and Jane had both been so relentlessly cheerful that she couldn't carry it off. "Just wait until tomorrow if you think she was bad tonight," Jane said. "Mike is the first grandchild to graduate from high school. She'll pull out all the stops."

“I told you to lie about the date," Shelley said.

Jane laughed. "I couldn't talk the printer into faking a separate announcement."

“There's probably a black market. You just didn't try hard enough.”

When they got home, Katie reported curtly that Mel VanDyne had called and left a message that he'd like to come by later in the evening if it was convenient. Mel was what Katie referred to archly as Jane's "significant other" since she felt it was undignified for her mother to have a "boyfriend." Especially since she didn't have a boyfriend of her own.

Mel was also a police detective, and Katie's version of his message sounded official. "Wonder what he wants?" Jane asked. "He was supposed to be on duty tonight so he can help me chaperone the all-night high school party tomorrow."

“What a fun date you are," Shelley said. "Coffee?" Jane asked.

“Oh, maybe half a cup. Was that an expression of disapproval?" she added, gesturing toward the door Katie'd gone through.

Jane nodded. "It comes and goes. She likes Mel. She doesn't like me and Mel. She was still Daddy's little girl when Steve died, and she goes through spells of idolizing him and thinking, like Thelma does, that I should have gone into permanent mourning."

“It's just her hormones," Shelley said. "If it weren't that, it would be something else. Denise has decided that I willfully and deliberately passed on my straight-hair genes to her."

“She's right, isn't she?" Jane said, grinning as she plugged in the coffeemaker.

“Of course she is. And wait till she sees what happens to her thighs when she turns thirty if she thinks straight hair is bad.”

They were both on their second cup of coffee and happily rummaging through a furniture catalog when Mel arrived.

“This isn't the visit where you say you can't help chaperone and I have to rip out your throat, is it?" Jane greeted him.

“No — not quite. This is an official visit."

“Not the parking ticket!" Shelley exclaimed. "The officer said—”

He held up both hands. "No, I just need some information.”

Jane supplied him with coffee and put a plate of sugar cookies on the coffee table in the living room. "Don't even think about it, Willard," she said sternly to the big yellow dog who shambled out of the dining room when he heard the plate being set down. Willard sprawled on the floor at Mel's feet and gazed up at him soulfully.

“You two were at the opening of the deli at the end of the next block this afternoon, weren't you?”

Mel was a few years younger than Jane, which always made her slightly uncomfortable, but today he looked tired and annoyed and not quite so young.

“We were. Unfortunately," Shelley answered.

“I wonder if you could each make a list of everybody you remember seeing there and approximate times. And then I'll need to know which of those people had any connection with Robert Stonecipher that you know of."

“Mel, what's this about?" Jane asked. "It was just an accident and—"

“Jane, somebody else said they saw you in the storeroom after it happened.”

She nodded. "I was, for a second."

“And you saw that rack?"

“The one with the hams that fell over? Yes, of course."

“Did you notice the base of it? The legs?"

“I didn't pay any attention," Jane replied.

Mel sighed. "Well, if you had, you'd have realized right away that it couldn't possibly fall over by itself. It had to be pushed. Hard."

“Somebody killed Stonecipher?" Jane exclaimed.

“It sure looks like it," Mel said grimly.

4

"Mike!" Jane exclaimed. "He can't go back there!"

“What?" Mel asked, disconcerted by the sudden shift in the conversation.

“My son cannot work where somebody is killing people!"

“Hold it, Jane. We have no idea yet what really happened. Someone may have pushed it over without knowing he was behind it or—"

“It doesn't matter."

“Look, Jane, I think you should just cool down a little before you make a snap decision," he said warily.

“Mel's right," Shelley said. "Besides everything else, Stonecipher was a jerk who probably had more enemies than we could guess. Even if someone did kill him, that doesn't mean they'd harm anybody else."

“Jane—" Mel said hesitantly, "you know I'd never butt in on your mothering and I'm not now, but I was once an eighteen-year-old boy myself." He paused, waiting to see how this was going over. When Jane merely stared back at him, he went on, "Boys that age are awfully sensitive about having their mothers tell them what to do. And Mike's a sensible, responsible kid, which would make it even harder for him to take being treated like a child.”

Shelley backed him up. "Jane, I'd feel just like you do, but Mel has a point. Mike thinks he's the one who takes care of you. To be told you've decided he has to quit his job would be really tough on him."

“Not as tough as getting killed," Jane said.