Schuyler Square Day 133 Tiffany Puts Her Foot Down

"Why do you want me to come to dinner?" Tiffany asked her aunt. "You were thrilled when I moved out and now you want me to come over for veal piccata? I don't think so."

"Now, darling," Aunt Mavis cooed, "I want you to come over for dinner because you're my niece and I love you. Do I need more of a reason than that?"

"We didn't eat together all that much when I was living at your house," Tiffany pointed out.

"That was different. When one sees another person all the time--even a relative--one yearns for solitude. But when one doesn't see that person as much, suddenly one misses them."

"Aunt Mavis, can't you ever say 'I' instead of 'one'? That's a really annoying habit of yours."

Aunt Mavis laughed but Tiffany could tell that she was gritting her teeth at the same time. "Oh, Tiffany, I certainly miss that spirited attitude you have. It's so...adolescent. Now tell me: will you join me for dinner tonight?"

"I don't think so. I don't like veal all that much. I think it's cruel how they're raised in the dark like that and then slaughtered."

"Well, then, Rosanne will make fried chicken or hamburgers or whatever else you want. How about lasagna? You always liked Rosanne's lasagna."

Tiffany hesitated. Rosanne did make fantastic lasagna, better than any restaurant's. Gooey and dripping with cheese. "I don't know..."

"Come over at seven," Mavis ordered, sensing a weakness in Tiffany's defense system. "I have a surprise for you."

"What is it? A car?"

"No, it's better than a car."

"What could be better than a car?"

"You'll see," Aunt Mavis said in a very mysterious tone. "Just be here at seven and dress up a little. No sweat pants."

"This isn't some freaky blind date, is it? Because if it is, count me out. Your taste in guys plain sucks, Aunt Mavis."

"Tiffany, just be here at seven," Aunt Mavis snapped before hanging up.

Tiffany put down her cell phone. How odd. That was the first contact she'd had with her aunt since moving in with her dad. What was Aunt Mavis being so friendly about? Well, Tiffany decided, maybe her aunt was tired of being a witch. Maybe she really did miss having Tiffany around. It had to be lonely in Schuyler Manor without her aunt's live-in boyfriend. Tyler was still there but he wasn't exactly what anyone would call a sparkling conversationalist.

"OK, Aunt Mavis," Tiffany said out loud. "I'll be there for dinner but whatever kind of surprise you have had better be good and it had better be more than just lasagna."

Schuyler Square Day 77 Blood Brothers

So far, this whole moving to a hick town in the middle of nowhere idea was falling flat on its face. Kirk Chandler sat at a booth in the Schuyler Square Family Feed Diner and moped. First of all, he was beyond irritated with everything in this stupid down being named Schuyler Square Whatever. Schuyler Square Movie House. Schuyler Square Library. Schuyler Square Family Feed Diner, one of your more revolting names for a restaurant. When he had complained about the overuse of the name Schuyler, Mindy Cooper had laughed at him. 'The name of the town is Schuyler Square, Kirk! What do you want them to name things?" Kirk could see her point but he was so tired of hearing the name 'Schuyler.' It made him sick. Schuyler this, Schuyler that--why the hell couldn't his real father had a less annoying last name than Schuyler? Then there was his relationship with Mindy, which had gotten so bad that they could no longer call it a relationship. It was more like a sinking boat heading right for the bottom of the ocean. And finally there was his work situation, or lack thereof. Things hadn't worked out at Schuyler College, he could hardly work at the newspaper since Mindy was the editor and he hadn't been able to find anything else that paid enough to keep   body and soul together. All in all, Kirk was developing a healthy loathing for the entire community of Schuyler Square.

"Hello, Kirk." 

Kirk looked up from his coffee and bread pudding to see his wormy half-brother Tyler standing next to his booth. Only Tyler didn't know they were half-brothers, at least Kirk didn't think he did. Truthfully, Tyler seemed to have his head so far up in the clouds that Kirk didn't think he was aware of much of anything that was going on around him. "Hey, Tyler. How are you doing?"

"Fine. Mind if I join you?"

It wasn't like Kirk had much of a choice so he gestured toward the vacant seat across from him. Tyler slid into the booth while his eyes slid around the restaurant like he was casing the joint. "I've been wanting to talk to you," he said in a low voice.

Kirk waited while he wondered what the heck Tyler Schuyler could want to talk to him about. They barely knew each other so the possibility that Tyler wanted to compare birthmarks was pretty remote. An idea hit Kirk: maybe Tyler wanted to tell him that he, Kirk, had been included in their father's will after all! Kirk felt his spirits kick up a notch. He could definitely use some good news like that. "What is it?" he finally asked after waiting for Tyler to unfold a paper napkin and place it in his lap. Tyler looked up and caught Kirk watching him. "One must always use a napkin, even if one isn't planning on ordering."

"Oh."

Tyler got right to the point. "I know we're brothers. Half-brothers," Tyler amended. "I know you're my dad's son."

This was looking better. "How'd you find that out?" Kirk asked.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. How'd you find out?"

A small wave of superiority passed over Tyler's face. "God gave me two ears and one mouth. I've learned to use them all judiciously."

Kirk tried not to roll his eyes. Not only was his half-brother a worm,  he was a self-righteous smug one at that. "All right," he said evenly, "you know that we're half-brothers. I know that we're half-brothers. So what?"

"So blood is thicker than water."

This little twerp was downright annoying. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that I wash your hand and you wash mine. Or scratch each other's back if you will."

"Tyler, I have no idea of what you're talking about."

Again Tyler looked furtively around the restaurant. "I don't know if you're aware of the fact that my mother has a...friend staying with us."

Kirk stifled a laugh. The whole town knew that Mavis Schuyler had her live-in lover shacking up with her in Schuyler Manor where they undoubtedly spent all their free time rolling around on scads and scads of Schuyler money. Kirk felt just like Jan Brady--Schuyler, Schuyler, Schuyler! "So?"

"So Mother and I don't want him to stay there any more."

"So why don't you and 'mother' tell him to take a hike?"

Tyler squirmed uncomfortably. "We don't want to appear rude."

"Tyler, I'm sorry, but I honestly don't know why you're telling me all of this."

Tyler leaned forward. "Mother and I thought it might be nice if you helped us take care of our problem since we're related."

Kirk could no longer stifle his laugh. "Why would I do that? Up until this moment, no one in your vaunted family has so much as nodded at me on the street. Why would I help you or your mother?"

"We could pay you," Tyler said.

"To do what?"

Tyler looked confused. "To kill Peter Van Husen, of course."

Schuyler Square Day 76 Tyler Sees an Opening

At last! Finally, his mother seemed open to at least the possibility of dumping her lover and getting their life back to normal without that civil servant creep joining them for dinner every night. Tyler had never realized just how deep his vein of snobbism truly was until Peter Van Husen moved in with the Schuyler family. The man didn't even know that wearing socks with sandals simply wasn't done. It was embarrassing to be seen with him at the Schuyler Square Country Club.

"Well, Tyler?" his mother prompted, "what's your idea? How can we get Peter to move out?"

"I have two thoughts," Tyler replied. "Both involve a little bit of subterfuge."

"Go on," Mavis urged. She got up, disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of vodka. After adding a healthy slug to her tomato juice, she looked at Tyler expectantly. "I'm waiting."

"My first idea would involve getting Peter in some kind of compromising position. What if you happened to stumble on him in a clinch with Tiffany?"

Mavis laughed. "Tiffany? Please. She's practically jail bait and besides, Peter has better taste than Tiffany. She's too pudgy for him."

"Mom, he isn't going to really fool around with Tiffany, this is all just to set him up," Tyler patiently explained.

"I don't like it. I'd look foolish if my boyfriend was fooling around with someone like Tiffany," Mavis announced.

Tyler sighed and tried to remember that with his mother, appearances were almost everything. "You don't think you look foolish now, fooling around with Peter?"

Mavis ignored his question. "What's your second thought?"

"Well, it's a little more far fetched. Suppose we got Peter fired from his job?"

"How would we do that?"

"We could tell his boss that he stole something from us--maybe a piece of jewelry or an oil painting."

"Tyler, that's plain stupid. Why would he steal anything from us? In the first place, I give him everything he needs and in the second place, Peter doesn't know squat about art. He thinks posters of Ferraris are high art form if they come in nice frames--and his idea of a nice frame is chrome. Forget it."

"You're shooting down all my ideas," Tyler said with the faintest hint of a whine in his voice. "I don't hear you coming up with anything better."

"I do have one idea," Mavis said after a long draw on her tomato juice/vodka concoction. "Suppose we poison him?"

"Mom! We want to get rid of him, not send ourselves up the river! We'd get caught for sure."

"Not if it was food poisoning. Think about it, Tyler: it's summer and there's always a break out of salmonella somewhere during the summer months. We could get our hands on some tainted produce and give it to Peter. Voila, no more live in boyfriend troubles!"

"How do you know he'd die? He looks pretty healthy to me."

Mavis frowned. "You have a point. Peter has a very strong constitution. I should know. He's wearing me out." Wearily, she rubbed her eyes. "I wish I'd never met him. I wish I could go back in time and somehow do things differently so that Peter Van Husen had never walked into my life."

Tyler looked at his mother with more than a little disgust. "Maybe the next time you want to find a playmate, you'll pick someone more appropriate."

"Oh, I will," Mavis promised. "Next time I'm going to find someone with at least an MBA from a good school."

Good Lord. If Tyler ever needed proof that he might have been adopted, his mother had just handed it to him. "I'll think of something."

Mavis drank some more vodka laced tomato juice. "You do that for your mommy," she instructed.

Schuyler Square Day 59 Cause of Death

In the twenty-four hours that had passed since Ron Schuyler's death, tips had been pouring into the Schuyler Square police station. Unfortunately, none of them were much help.

"This is all crap," Peter said, hanging up the telephone angrily after the last caller reported that he had seen a plump red head enter the country club kitchen right around the time Ron had been murdered. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to remember that his wife Chelsea was now a red head and that she was also a bit of a porker. But Peter knew there was no way Chelsea murdered Ron. She wasn't the type. If Chelsea had murder on her mind, Peter had no doubt that he would be the intended victim, not Ron Schuyler.

"What's crap?" Jim Waterston asked as he peered over Peter's shoulder. "A red head, huh? That's the third time a broad with red hair has been mentioned from the tipsters, isn't it?"

"So?" Peter asked.

"So your wife has red hair now. Bright red hair. Lucy red hair. Little Orphan Annie red hair."

"What are you saying, Jim? Spit it out, OK?"

Jim sat down next to Peter and smirked at him. "Just putting two and two together."

"And coming up with five," Peter shot back. "Besides, the autopsy report isn't back yet. It's highly possible that Ron Schuyler died of natural causes."

The smirk grew even broader on Jim's face and he patted his basketball sized paunch. "Sure he did. It's also highly possible that I'll be chosen as the next Sexiest Man of the Year by People magazine."

"He could have had a heart attack," Peter said. "There was no gun shot wound, no stab wound, no external marks."

"Other than the six inch gash on his forehead."

"He could have hit the edge of the counter when he fell," Peter said.

Jim shook his head in disgust. "You are pathetic but go ahead and stay in La La Land for as long as you want. In the meantime, I'm going to go to your house and talk to your wife."

"The hell you are!"

"The hell I am. It's my job, Van Husen. There was a murder and it's all of our jobs to talk to likely suspects. That would be your wife, Mavis Schuyler and...you."

Peter stared. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. Where were you when Schuyler died anyway?"

Now it was Peter's turn to smirk. "Actually I was dancing with Mavis Schuyler. There's no way either of us killed Ron Schuyler."

"That still leaves your missus."

"No one killed Ron Schuyler." The captain's irritated voice interrupted them. "He had a massive heart attack." The captain looked from Peter to Jim. "However, we don't think he was alone. Evidence indicates that Ron Schuyler was...sexually active at the time of death."

"You mean he was bopping someone when he died? Who?" Peter demanded.

"What a way to go," Jim added. "Yeah, who was it?"

The captain sighed. "A temporary worker hired by the country club for the evening for eight bucks an hour. Apparently some gal was playing waitress for the night and she caught Mr. Schuyler's eye when she served him his drink."

Peter was even more disgusted than he'd been before--although also vastly relieved. Chelsea hadn't killed Ron and neither had Mavis. The women in his life were innocent. "Served him right," he commented, "but that had to be pretty awful for the kid."

"What kid? You mean the waitress?" The captain shook his head. "She was no kid. Sixty if she's a day and not in very good shape herself. Seems she had a little heart event after Ron collapsed. She's in the hospital right now, singing like a canary. You know what she said was the worst thing about the whole shebang?"

Peter could only imagine. What could be the worst thing about having sex with someone and then having them expire on you? "I'm afraid to ask."

"Ron was a lousy tipper."

Schuyler Square Day 56 Comfort Food

"I don't freaking believe this! First my mom dies in a car accident and now Uncle Ron is killed? What--is there a curse on the Schuyler family?"

Rosanne did her best to comfort Tiffany Schuyler although she was in shock herself. True, she didn't exactly love her late boss. She didn't respect him either. She didn't even like him but that didn't mean she wanted to see him dead. Only a nutcase would wish that kind of ending on another human being. "I'm sorry, Tiffany. I know that doesn't help very much but I really am sorry."

Tiffany blew her nose loudly. "Great. The cleaning lady is sorry for me. So if the family curse strikes me next I'll be guaranteed at least one sincere mourner at my funeral."

"Tiffany, please don't be morbid."

"I'm not being morbid but you're right, Rosanne, know you feel sorry for me doesn't help. What would help would be if you'd trot out to the kitchen and make me something to eat. I feel like I'm about to faint from hunger. I haven't eaten for hours."

Rosanne studied the teenager's beefy build and silently doubted that Tiffany could faint from hunger for at least a month, possibly two. But after reminding herself that Tiffany was only 16 and couldn't be expected to have any manners considering her background and upbringing, she began to walk toward the kitchen. "I could make you a nice cup of tea," she said. A nice cup of zero calorie tea, she silently added.

"Tea? Why would I want tea? I want FOOD, Rosanne! Like a bacon cheeseburger or some tacos! I'm in the middle of an extremely traumatic experience and you expect me to get by on a lousy cup of tea? What are you, British or something? This isn't World War II with the Nazis bombing us! This is Schuyler Square, Illinois and I'm very upset--"

Rosanne let the kitchen door swing shut behind her, effectively blocking out Tiffany's verbal rampage. Thank goodness this house was built so solidly. If Rosanne was able to hear everything the members of the Schuyler family said from the kitchen she would have had to quit her job and start selling Avon products or Amway a long time ago.

Quickly she put together a hamburger patty and tossed it into a frying pan. Comfort food. Well, who could blame Tiffany? The kid needed a little comfort right about now. Might as well make several. Tyler will be hungry too. And Mavis.


Not that Tyler or Mavis would be interested in bacon cheeseburgers. Mavis subsisted on coffee and perhaps three tablespoons of brown rice per day and Tyler had never been a burger fan. He was more into sushi. When Brad had lived at home he had preferred anything covered with caviar or ketchup. And of course Ron Schuyler liked only liquid diets--like the All Scotch Diet. It was like being a short order cook at a group home for wealthy neurotics.

Rosanne shook her head. What a messed up group. And now the leader of it had bit the dust. Kicked the bucket. Gone to that great stock market seat in the sky. What was going to happen to everyone now that Ron was dead?

Rosanne's cell phone rang. She looked at the caller i.d. with relief. Her husband. Finally, a sane person to talk to.

"You should come home," Mike said immediately. "Ron Schuyler was murdered and Mavis was kidnapped. It has to be the same person. I don't want you in that house by yourself."

"I'm not by myself. Tiffany is here."

Mike snorted. "Yeah, she'd be a great help if a crazed killer came after you. That one is really Miss Responsibility."

"A crazed killer isn't going to come after me. Why would he?"

"Or she."

Rosanne thought about that. She supposed that whoever killed Ron could have been a woman. Heaven knew that he'd dallied with enough of them over the years. "Or she," she amended. "Seriously, Mike, I'm fine. I want to stay here until Mavis gets home."

"Is Tyler there?"

"No. Tiffany hasn't heard from him either. I'm not sure if he knows his dad is dead."

"He must know. The whole town is buzzing about it."

"All the more reason why I shouldn't leave. I'll be home soon, honey. Don't worry about me."

"If you're not here in an hour, I'm coming to the house," Mike responded.

Rosanne hung up the phone. Mike was sweet to worry about her. They had a good marriage and she appreciated that. She couldn't imagine having a marriage like the one Mavis and Ron had. Or used to have.

The back door opened. Rosanne looked up, holding her breath. She hoped it was Mavis but if it was Tyler, she hoped he knew about his dad. Breaking the news of Ron Schuyler's murder went way beyond what was listed on her job description.

Schuyler Square Day 55 Mindy, Kirk and Poor, Poor Chelsea

"What is the matter with you?" Kirk hissed at Mindy after they left his mother and Tom Hartman in the country club's parking lot.

"What do you mean?" Mindy asked. Mentally she was working on her lead. Double murder--twenty years apart! Did whoever kill Mary Austin also slay Ron Schuyler? Was ex-lover involved? Who is Ron's Love Child? Mindy frowned. She wanted her lead to be catchy but not too kitschy. More USA Today than National Enquirer. Then again, she always heard back in J school that the Enquirer paid big bucks. Mindy made up her mind. She was going for the bucks.

"I mean why did you have to tell my mother about your loony tunes idea that whoever murdered Mary Austin might have killed Ron Schuyler? That's just stupid."

"I never said that," Mindy denied.

"You said they might be connected. How else could they be connected?"

"Well, I certainly don't know. I'm a journalist, not a detective. I don't see what you're getting all defensive about anyway, Kirk. Honestly, you're acting like you think your own mother killed Ron."

"Who also happens to be my own father," Kirk reminded her.

Mindy sighed. "Damn. I am something of an insensitive oaf, aren't I? I'm sorry, Kirk. I see a juicy story and my common sense flies out the window. I'll apologize to your mother."

"That would be nice," Kirk snapped. "I'd also appreciate it if you'd drop this double murder crap. It's just sensationalist garbage."

"No," Mindy corrected, "it's journalism."

"What's the difference?"

"Ouch. I'm going to forgive you for that, Kirk, because your dad was just murdered but please remember that I take my career very seriously." So seriously that Mindy knew if she had to choose between her live-in boyfriend's oh-so-tender feelings and the possibility of a shot of getting a position at a real newspaper, it was  going to be bye-bye-love all the way. Boyfriends could be found anywhere. Careers in journalism not so much.

Chelsea Van Husen didn't know what to do. She know what she should do--go home, take a hot bath and forget this day ever happened--but she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Should she drive down to the police station and pick up her husband? Should she go through the drive through at McDonald's and drown her sorrow in Big Mac's? Should she stop by the Schuyler's and offer her condolences to Mavis? Ha! It would be a frosty day in hell when that happened. If anyone should be offering condolences, Mavis should be crawling on her hands and knees to say "Sawry!" to Chelsea.

The country club's ballroom was slowly emptying and as she watched the other couples depart, heads dropped and voices low as they discussed the untimely but not exactly unwelcome demise of Ron Schuyler, Chelsea wished more than anything that she was one half of one of those couples. She wanted to be going home with Peter instead of sitting at the country club all alone, her hair done up like a rooster in shock therapy, her new shapewear so tight that she felt like she was wearing an all-body tourniquet. This plain sucked.

And it was all Mavis Schuyler's fault. If Mavis hadn't chased Chelsea's husband then Chelsea wouldn't be in this pickle. And Ron Schuyler wouldn't be dead.

Schuyler Square Day 52

Mavis stared numbly down at her shoes. They were pretty shoes, gold with delicate high heels and thin leather straps that made her ankles look amazingly tiny. She had bought the shoes in Chicago at an exclusive boutique. Mavis did love shopping in Chicago. It was quite a cut above over shopping at the Schuyler Square Shopping Center where absolutely nothing was exclusive. The shoes went perfectly with her dress, which was also gold. And expensive. When Mavis had put on her pretty, exclusive, expensive shoes earlier that evening, she had never dreamed that a few hours later she would be sitting at the police station looking down at them while Ron's body was being taken away.

A tiny frown formed between her eyes. Where was Ron being taken? Had they taken him to a funeral home or the hospital morgue or where? Mavis didn't have a clue as to what happened to people who had been murdered. It certainly wasn't anything she'd ever spent time contemplating before.

She shivered. Dear God, her husband was dead. Ron was gone. Forever. She'd never have to listen to him clear his throat over and over and over while she was trying to read the People. Never have to watch him fall asleep in his leather armchair after imbibing too much scotch, a fine strand of drool oozing out of his patrician mouth as he snored. She'd never hear him complain about her credit card bills ever again. She was free of Ron and of being Mrs. Ron Schuyler and although she had dreamed about such freedom many, many times over the years she had never expected it to come about so...rudely.

"How are you doing?" A police officer sat down next to her, sympathy in his eyes. Mavis looked at him, wishing he was Peter. She was in desperate need of seeing a friendly face. Oh, and of a Valium too. Where was Peter? He'd been at the ball--he'd been standing over Ron's body--but she hadn't seen him since.

"I'm all right," Mavis replied stiffly.

"We aren't going to keep you much longer, Mrs. Schuyler. We're all aware of how much of a shock this has been. We just need to ask you a few questions."

"Why do you need to ask me any questions?" Mavis asked. A terrible thought dawned on her. "You don't think I had anything to do with my husband's death, do you?"

"We need to talk to everyone who was at the ball and of course we need to talk to the people who most likely saw Mr. Schuyler last. That might have been you, Mrs. Schuyler."

Ugh. Police double talk. Mavis gave the upstart in a blue uniform her iciest stare. "I haven't seen my husband since three o'clock this afternoon," she informed him. "He was about to take a nap and I was leaving for the hairdresser's."

"You didn't see him after you got back home from the hairdresser's? You didn't come to the ball together?"

"No, we did not," Mavis snapped. "I arrived early to make sure that everything had been done properly. I was in charge of the ball, you know."

"And you didn't see him at the ball?"

Mavis thought about that. Had she seen Ron at the dance? She couldn't recall. "Maybe in passing," she said, "but I didn't speak with him." Mavis felt her hands beginning to tremble. She was starting to get nauseous. "May I go now?"

The officer looked at her for a long moment. "Yes," he finally said. "We'll be in touch though so--"

"Don't leave town?" Mavis asked. "Don't worry. I'm hardly in the position to leave town at the moment. I have to plan my husband's funeral."

Standing up, Mavis saw Peter Van Husen walk through the station's front door, his wife trailing behind him.

Schuyler Square Day 51 Tyler Schuyler

"And that's my sister Breanna. She lives up north with her husband. And that's my brother Aaron. He lives in Iowa but he's coming home next week for Grandma's birthday party. She's going to be 81."

Tyler Schuyler stared at the large gilt framed photographed that dominated the small foyer of Jenny Sanderson's house. Jenny was Tyler's date for the Policemen's Retirement Ball, a fact his mother wasn't too thrilled by. Jenny's dad worked as a maintenance man at Schuyler Industries and her mom was a nurse's aide at Schuyler Square's sole retirement home. Needless to say, the Sanderson family didn't quite make the grade as far as Mavis was concerned. "Who's that?" Tyler asked, pointing at the fourth figure in the photograph.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "That would be my other sister, Natasha. She's the black sheep of the family."

"What did she do?"

Jenny lowered her voice. "She's a Republican. She only visits on major holidays and birthdays which is probably good thing. The last time she was here Daddy snapped at her and called her selfish. Natasha was so upset that she left before we had our dessert."

Tyler shook his head while envy surged through him. There really were normal families out there. There were families who spent holidays and birthdays together and who considered having differing political views to be a big deal. He could only imagine what Jenny would think of the members of his family--his father who drank scotch with his cornflakes and sometimes on his cornflakes, his mother who might be fooling around with another man and who might not be, his brother who had basically abandoned the family, Tiffany, his cousin who solved all of her problems with a bag of corn chips and then there was himself, Tyler Arthur Schuyler, 24-years old and clueless about what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. How he'd love to have a family like Jenny's. Maybe then he wouldn't be so lost.

"Are you ready?" Jenny asked. "I can't wait to go. I've never been to the country club before."

"It's really no big deal," Tyler assured her.

"That's easy for you to say. You've been going there your entire life. Believe me, it's a big deal for me. Thank you for inviting me."

Jenny was so sweet. That was why Tyler liked her. It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous too with blonde hair, green eyes and a fantastic body. It would be nice to marry someone like Jenny. Then he'd get to go to all of her family events too.

"Are you kids leaving?" Jenny's father came into the hall. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and popping open a beer. Tyler knew his mother would call Jenny's dad "low brow" but Tyler liked him. Mr. Sanderson actually looked at him when he spoke to him, unlike his own dad.

"We're just about to leave," Jenny said.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart," Mr. Sanderson said. "And you look nice too, Tyler."

Tyler's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He'd wait until they were in the car to look at it. One of his many pet peeves was people who were always looking at their cell phones in the middle of conversations. Tiffany did that all the time. Come to think of it, his whole family had been doing it the last time they had dinner together. He couldn't imagine the Sandersons ever texting at the table.

Tyler checked his phone five minutes later. That was odd. It was from Tiffany. Why would she text him? As far as he knew, she had barricaded herself in her bedroom with the entire collection of Sex in the City and a large pizza from Dominoes. Well, whatever Tiffany wanted it could wait until he got home. He was on a date, for crying out loud. The first date he'd been on in ages and he wanted it to be perfect. Besides, knowing Tiffany she probably wanted him to spy on her mother and Officer Van Husen again. She could forget that. Tiffany didn't seem to be able to grasp that his mom and dad's marriage was perfectly OK and was going to last until death did they part.

Tyler just didn't realize that death had already done that.

Schuyler Square Day 50 The Plot Thickens

“Get her out of here!” Peter shouted the moment he saw Mavis running toward him. This was getting completely out of hand. Not only was the crime scene becoming more and more compromised with every passing moment, he was also afraid of what might pop out of his lover’s mouth when she saw her husband’s body lying on the floor and Peter standing next to it.

Several arms reached for Mavis and pulled her back. “Clear this room! Everyone get out NOW!”

“Peter, what happened?” Mavis wailed at him. “Is that really Ron? Tell me what’s going on?” Mavis looked at him over the shoulder of one of the other guests, her kohl-rimmed eyes beseeching. Either she was one hell of an actress or she was going into shock. Peter tried to silently convey to Mavis that he’d see her later, that he’d talk to her privately as soon as he could. He also tried to send her a mental telepathy message to keep her mouth shut until her lawyer appeared but he was pretty doubtful that it had gone through. Somehow he didn’t think Mavis’s current mental state was too open to any ESP messages.

Slowly the room emptied as the police officers remembered their duties and what was supposed to happen when someone was murdered. Peter noticed that Mindy Cooper was still standing in one corner doing her best to be invisible. Crap. “That goes for you too, Ms. Cooper.”

“I’m here representing the press,” Mindy reminded him. “I have a right to stay.”

“Not on my watch,” Peter responded. The press. Man, oh, man, this story was going to go a lot farther than the Schuyler Square Times. Ron Schuyler was loaded and he’d been murdered. Peter was sure that an event like that was going to earn them at least a phone call from the Chicago Tribune.

“Come on, Officer Van Husen,” Mindy said, flashing him a winsome smile, “give me something. How about a statement? You knew the victim fairly well, didn’t you? Of course, not as well as you knew his wife.”

Peter stared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mindy shook her head innocently. “You two worked together so closely on pulling this event together. Perhaps you worked with Ron Schuyler too?”

“No, I did not,” Peter snapped.

“There’s a rumor going around town that the Schuylers were headed for divorce court. Care to comment on that?”

Wow. It took more brass to be a journalist than a cop. Peter met Mindy’s stare and refused to look away. She held his gaze and for several long seconds neither of them spoke. Finally, Peter broke both the staring contest and the silence. “I hardly think that’s an appropriate question at this time.”

“On the contrary,” Mindy responded, “I think it’s highly appropriate. If Ron Schuyler was murdered by someone he knew—and aren’t most murder victims killed by someone they knew? Then the first person you’re going to be looking at is his wife, right?”

“Get the hell out of here,” Peter said through clenched teeth.

“My, my,” Mindy said as she scribbled in the tiny notebook she was holding. “Kind of touchy, aren’t we? What’s up with that, Officer Van Husen? Do you have something to hide too?”

Schuyler Square Day 49 Kirk's Reaction

Kirk stared down at Ron Schuyler’s body, a sick feeling filling his gut. This was his father lying at his feet and he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. With an effort, Kirk pulled his eyes away and focused instead on the crowd surrounding him. Everyone looked horrified but he noted that no one looked too surprised.

“Are you OK?” Mindy asked. She was still holding his hand tightly and Kirk could see the worry and concern in her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” Kirk responded.

“I wonder what happened,” Mindy murmured. “Who would have done something like this?”

“From what I’ve heard, Dear Old Dad had a list of enemies about a mile long. It’s going to hard to find someone in Schuyler Square who didn’t have a motive.” Like his mother. Oh, man, his mother. How was she going to handle this? Kirk still hadn’t figured out what kind of feelings his mom had toward Ron Schuyler. Was she still in love with him? Did she hate him? He knew she resented him. Hell, he did too. The man had never been in contact with her since she’d left Schuyler Square carrying his child. She had to resent him.

But had she resented him enough to be happy that he was dead?

“Is your mom here tonight?” Mindy asked, as if she was reading his thoughts.

“I don’t know. She was planning on coming but I haven’t seen her yet. I was late.”

“I know. I waited for you but then I decided to head over to the ball by myself. Where were you?”

Kirk didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated, not even by his live-in girlfriend. “I should find my mom.”

“You should,” Mindy agreed. “I’m going to stay around here for the story.”

His father’s murder was a news story. The sick feeling in his stomach grew stronger. “All right.”

They were interrupted by the sound of a woman speaking very loudly, almost hysterically. Kirk listened hard—was that his mother? He hoped not. Kirk knew what an intensely private woman his mother was and that she’d regret a public breakdown in the country club’s kitchen.

“What happened? Would someone please tell me what happened?”

Kirk and Mindy watched open-mouthed as Mavis Schuyler stormed into the room, her upswept hairdo flopping to one side like a drunken crow. She was missing one shoe and her dress looked torn, although Kirk wasn’t one hundred percent positive that it wasn’t supposed to look that way.

“Where’s Ron?” Mavis demanded. “Where’s my husband?”

“Oh, boy,” Mindy whispered under her breath. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

One of the policemen grabbed Mavis by her elbows in an attempt to both stop her and steady her. “Mrs. Schuyler, something has happened to your husband.”

“I know that, you idiot!” Mavis shouted. “Someone told me he’s dead! Is that true? Let me go! I want to see Ron immediately!” She broke away from the policeman and stumbled into Kirk. He helped her stand up and for a moment he felt a flash of sincere pity for this woman. She was a victim, just as much as her husband was. Worse, she was going to have to live with the after effects of what had happened to Ron Schuyler.

Kirk experienced an odd sort of regret. No matter how much he had hated his old man—and over the past few months that hate had grown by leaps and bounds with every passing day—he hadn’t expected to feel this kind of pain when his father died. He hadn’t expected to feel like he’d lost something too.

Schuyler Square Day 42 Ron Tries to Figure Mavis Out

"I simply don't understand you, Mavis. You put all this time into planning an event and then you suddenly decide to back out? Why?"

Mavis gave her husband a death glare. "I don't want to do it anymore, Ron. That's all there is to it. There's nothing for you to understand."

"But usually you're so gung ho on these kinds of things. What made you change your mind?" Ron was trying, he was really trying, to pay more attention to Mavis. Her kidnapping had scared him and had also made him feel guilty. He didn't want to stay married to Mavis but it would be nice if the two of them could part on friendly terms. Plus, he knew she wouldn't gouge him nearly as badly if she wasn't furious with him when he dumped her.

Mavis picked up the newspaper and shook it loudly. "Why do I need to explain my motives to you, Ron? I'm simply not interested in helping the local police stage their silly little ball. What's the big deal? Besides, Lorraine might be coming for a visit soon and naturally I'll want to spend some time with her. She's the only relative I have left, you know."

Dear God, not Lorraine. Ron couldn't stand his sister-in-law. The woman was so completely self-absorbed that she made Mavis look like Mother Theresa. "Do you think it's such a good idea for Lorraine to visit now? I think you should get back to doing your normal things like your charity events and shopping and getting your hair done."

"All I want to do is stay home. I'm going to have my hairdresser come here from now on."

Ron didn't get it. It was too out of character for a complete control freak like Mavis to let a party that she was in charge of planning slip through her fingers. Maybe being kidnapped had made his wife go through a personality transformation and she was going to become kinder, gentler person.

Ron silently snorted. Yeah, right. And maybe gas was going to go back to being a buck a gallon.

"Are you worried about being kidnapped again?"

Mavis shrugged. "The thought had crossed my mind."

"But you're working with a police officer. I can't imagine that you could be any place safer than with Officer Van Husen."

An odd look passed over Mavis's face. "I suppose you're right."

"I don't want to push you, Mavis, only I hate to see you give up on a project you've so clearly been enjoying. I think you might regret it. I also think you should wait on having Lorraine visit. You know how trying she can be and how she always takes advantage of your good nature." Ron wondered if a hole might not open up in the middle of the living room floor and swallow him life for telling such whoppers. He didn't care. The last thing he needed was a visit from Lorraine.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Mavis asked. "It isn't like you to care about what I do or don't do with my free time."

"You're my wife." Ron wasn't quite a big enough hypocrite to say that he loved Mavis. He didn't think he'd ever really and truly loved his wife. They'd stuck their marriage out for another reason--greed. But of course he cared about her, kind of like how he cared about their accountant or the guy who kept the lawn looking so good.

Mavis seemed touched. "Maybe...maybe I won't quit helping with the Policeman's Retirement Ball. I suppose it would be rather rotten of me to drop it when the ball is just around the corner."

"Good for you." Ron was relieved--both because he didn't want Mavis hiding in the house for the rest of her life and also because he liked it when she went out. Then he got to do whatever he wanted to. And one of the things he wanted to do was drop in and pay a visit on Veronica Chandler...

"I think I'll ask Lorraine to arrange her visit so she can be here for the ball," Mavis added.

Ron's face fell. Some days nothing seemed to go right.