Jill Churchill - Silence of the Hams

“But if you mix them up, how will you know which ones are yours?" Jane asked, wishing the answer would be that he was giving all of his to Elliot. As much as she'd invested in them, it would be an unbelievable luxury to know she'd never step on one of them in the dark in bare feet again.

“Oh, we'll remember," he said, dashing her hopes.

“Promise me you'll take them away with you when you go to college," she said wanly.

“Yeah, sure," he said, rolling his eyes.

Jane went inside and tried to wake Katie, without any luck. By the time she'd showered and dressed, Katie was still asleep. "Get her, Willard," Jane said.

Willard didn't know many tricks, but he loved this command. It meant he had permission to leap on a bed. He did so now, giving Katie a sloppy lick.

Katie shrieked, thrashed around, and burrowed under the covers. "Mom! Get him off me. That's disgusting!"

“Katie, it's eight-fifteen. You have to be at bible school before nine."

“That's centuries away!" came the muffled reply.

“Five more minutes. That's all. C'mon, Willard.”

By the time Jane had run a brush through her hair, contemplated and rejected the idea of a new perm, and slapped on a minimum of makeup, she could hear Katie crashing around, so she went back outside. Shelley called invisibly from some window of her house. "Going to be there a while?”

Jane looked at her watch and called back, "Seventeen minutes.”

Shelley appeared through the garage door a moment later. "Jane, maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but your youngest child appears to be running away from home. He's trudging down the street with a suitcase."

“Gee, I hope he gets a good job and sends money home," Jane said. "That's his Lego collection going to Elliot's house."

“For good?" Shelley exclaimed.

“Don't get your hopes up. Elliot's mother is no fool."

“Did you talk to Mike about his job?”

“Mike talked to me first," Jane said. She recounted the conversation.

“So it's common knowledge that somebody pushed the rack over on Stonecipher," Shelley said.

“Well, at least that there's something fishy about it. Maybe if he hadn't been so thoroughly disliked, people might just think the police had time on their hands.”

Shelley had brought along a thermal mug of coffee and took a long, cautious sip. "You know, somebody must have liked him. Didn't he have adherents to any of his causes?"

“Oh sure, but then he'd move on to another cause and lose them. Nedra Payne practically worshipped him when he was campaigning to outlaw smoking everywhere, including inside people's own houses. She even tried to get me to sign her petition. I wished I'd come to the door with a cigarette so I could have blown smoke in her face. A cigar would have been even better."

“Nedra Payne?" Shelley asked.

Jane blew out her cheeks like balloons. "Oh, that Nedra Payne. The woman with the figure like Kentucky."

“Right. He was her hero until he lost that one, then he got on the thing about the fast-food restaurants, and she took offense because he made some slighting remark about how she obviously wasn't interested in her health or she wouldn't burden her heart with all that extra weight. And she told me all this, expect‑ ing sympathy. I just looked at her and said, 'What's your point, Nedra?' “

Shelley laughed. "You're getting better and better, Jane."

“You're my role model. Shelley, what's your take on this? Who would actually kill the man?"

“I haven't got any idea. I know it wasn't me and I'm fairly sure it wasn't you," she added with a grin. "Jane, are you absolutely certain you didn't hear any voices while you were in that bathroom?"

“Oh, a sort of general rumble. There were so many people around. And I could hear somebody talking outside. You remember, people were wandering all over the building and grounds. And I don't often pee with my ear pressed up against the nearest wall. The first unusual thing I heard was the crash of the rack and even that was pretty muffled. I thought somebody had just dropped something heavy. Like a tray of dishes. Except there wasn't that clinking sound dishes would make. Just a couple thumps — I guess that was the hams — and then almost instantly, the big thump."

“If you were right there, why didn't you open the door and see who came out of the room?"

“In the first place, I had no idea it was all that important. Secondly, I had soap all overmy hands. I had to rinse them, then took a few seconds looking around for the towel rack. By the time I opened the bathroom door, there were people all over the hallway. All running toward the room. I tried to ooze past, but got caught in the crush and pushed into the storage area. And got myself back out as quickly as I could."

“Who else was in the room then?”

Jane shrugged. "I have no idea. I just saw the rack and the hams all over the floor and Robert Stonecipher in the middle of it. Sort of under the rack. But I could see his head and with that distinctive hair, I didn't even have to wonder who it was. Wait. Sarah Baker must have been in the room and back out before I even got there because somehow she stumbled into me, crying and saying that he was dead. Not he by name, understand. I was horrified that she meant Conrad.”

As she spoke, Meow leaped onto the top of the fence that separated the back of her yard from the field behind. There was something that looked like a limp twig in her mouth. "Katie," Jane yelled. "Make sure the kitchen door's closed. Meow has a garter snake.”

There was a dramatic shriek and the slam of a door.

“Bloodthirsty things, cats," Shelley said with a shudder. "Speaking of blood — was there a lot?"

“I don't think there was any.”

Jane got up and went toward Meow, still perched on the fence. She waved her arms, and the cat jumped back onto the field side. "I used to try to save the snakes," Jane said as she returned to the patio table. "But then I realized that the more snakes Meow kills, the fewer my chances are of ever finding one in my washing machine again."

“I thought I was going to have to get out the sewing machine and whip up a straightjacket for you the time that happened," Shelley said.

“Shelley, I've got to go in a minute, but the reason I asked who you think killed him is this: when Mel said the guy's wife and business partner were both there and knowing that his secretary was there, too, it made me start thinking. Aren't there all kinds of statistics that murder victims are usually killed by somebody they know really well? And who knows somebody better—"

“—than his wife, partner, and secretary," Shelley filled in. "Still, most people aren't as heartily disliked as he was by so many other people. And while you and I might not think a fight over a zoning problem or the finances of a divorce are motives, it's probably because we haven't been the target of them. Imagine if he was threatening your very livelihood, or your children's future. Think how you'd feel if he'd taken all your money and you couldn't send Mike to college because of it.”

Jane nodded. "You could be right. But I, for one, want very badly to know who did this — because of Mike's job." She glanced at her watch and suddenly stood up. "I've got to go."

“Where?"

“To drop Katie off, then help decorate the school for the big graduation party tonight. Katie—!”

Several years earlier, after three tragic graduation night accidents, the high school PTA had decided to accept the fact that the new graduates would stay up and party all night the evening of graduation, and it was better to provide them a place than to let them roam around in vehicles. From a modest beginning, the PTA-sponsored party had assumed gigantic proportions.