Schuyler Square Day 89 Things That Go Bump in the Night

"Thank you for inviting me to the seance," Chelsea told Veronica. "I think it's going to be a lot of fun."

"I don't! I think it's going to be awful but I want to help Steve and DeeDee if I can," Veronica responded. "I know how scary it was living in that house after I found out about Mary. If this works and Mary stops hanging around making things go bump in the night, then it will be worth it."

"Did she make things go bump in the night when you lived there?"

Veronica nodded. "Often enough to make me not mind at all when Steve and DeeDee showed up to claim the house for themselves. I think I might have gotten the better deal. I love my new apartment and when I hang a picture on the wall or set something down on a table, I know it's going to stay there."

"I wonder if it's true," Chelsea said thoughtfully, "about Mary and Ron Schuyler. You know, that they were having an affair when she died."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Veronica said with a sigh. "I know from first hand experience how persuasive Ron could be."

"Then it's possible that Ron killed her." Chelsea frowned. "But if Ron did kill her and Ron's dead now, wouldn't that make Mary back off? There's nothing that can be done to catch him now."

"Ron was an adulterer and a first class jerk but I don't think he was a murderer," Veronica replied. "Murder would be too...messy for him."

"But if it wasn't Ron, then who killed Mary Austin?"

Goosebumps formed on Veronica's arms. "I suppose that's what we'll find out tonight."

"Mindy said that Tom Hartman will be joining us," Chelsea said. "Did she invite him or did you?"

"Actually, she did. Tom told me they ran into each other and Mindy told him what we're up to and asked him if he wanted to join us."

"And he said yes as soon as he heard that you'd be there," Chelsea guessed. "Am I right? How are things going between the two of you?"

"Slowly." Veronica didn't share with Chelsea that she'd just learned that Tom had a daughter. That was strictly Tom's news to share. "I suppose I'm a little gun shy."

"Join the club. I know that Peter will be coming back to me one of these days but I don't know that I'll ever be able to trust him again." Chelsea patted her slightly rounded stomach. "I suppose I'll have to for our baby's sake."

"Maybe he got whatever was making him act stupid out of his system," Veronica encouraged.

"I sure hope so because I don't think I could take it if he ran around on me again. Well, shall we head over to   Steve and DeeDee's and get this seance rolling?"

"All right," Veronica agreed but the goosebumps came back and she found herself almost unable to lift her feet off the floor. This whole seance thing was scaring her. Suppose Mary Austin appeared? Or worse, suppose they conjured up some other spirit? Veronica's mother had always warned her not to fool around with Ouija boards. Just like she'd warned her not to fool around with Ron Schuyler and look how right she'd been on that one. Leaving Chelsea's house, Veronica couldn't help but feel that her mother really did know best...

Schuyler Square Day 82 Food Poisoning is Trickier Than One Might Think

"I told you that salmonella was a long shot!" Tyler raged at his mother. "We have to be a little more aggressive if we're going to get rid of that idiot."

"Tyler, I don't know how we can do that." Mavis pushed a hand over her freshly dyed hair. She so enjoyed having Mr. Mario do her hair, especially when he wore those tight black pants. Mr. Mario was a dead ringer for Warren Beatty in Shampoo and Mavis was getting definite vibes that he wanted her to be his next Julie Christie. "I don't want to go to jail, you know. Orange is not my color."

"Then if we aren't going to murder him, we'll have to get him fired from his job," Tyler said flatly. "It's our only option."

Mavis frowned. "I still don't see how getting Peter fired will also get him out of our house. If anything he'll have more time to laze around here, sucking up my liquor and doing nothing but watch Tru t.v. How he can watch Cops all day long is beyond me."

"If he gets fired, you'll have to tell him that you don't feel you can have a boyfriend who's unemployed," Tyler slowly explained. "Tell him that it would look bad at the club."

"Suppose we get him fired and he finds another job right away? That excuse won't wash then."

Tyler snapped his fingers. "Mother, you're a genius! That's what we'll do--we'll pay off his boss and get him transferred to somewhere else in the state--some place far away."

"Do you think we could do that? Wouldn't it be awfully hard to pay off the police department?"

"I'm sure we can find someone willing to help us," Tyler said confidently. "After all, money makes the world go round and we have enough to make the whole world spin."

"What are you two talking about?" Peter asked, strolling into the den with a copy of Guns and Ammo tucked under one arm. "My ears are burning."

"As well they should be," Tyler remarked on his way out of the room.

"We were just discussing Mr. Mario. Tyler was complimenting me on the way my hair looks today. I think Mario did an exceptional job, don't you?"

Peter glanced at Mavis before dropping into Ron's leather recliner. "Looks good. No more grey, I see." He snapped open his magazine. "By the way, I won't be home for dinner tonight."

Mavis cringed at how casually Peter referred to Schuyler Manor as "home." Really, if only she could go back in time before she ever let this lummox move in, no matter how good he looked in his uniform. "Oh? Where will you be?"

"I need to see Chelsea about something."

Mavis felt her hopes perk up. "What do you need to see her about?" Maybe they were on the verge of reconciling and then she wouldn't have to continue to listen to Tyler's silly plots or try to come up with any on her own. One thing the Schuyler family did not shine on was getting rid of people. They usually hired other people to do any and all dirty work for them.

Peter looked upset. "Just something Chelsea and I need to finish, Mavis. Nothing to worry about. How about if we meet at the club later for a nightcap?"

"I don't think so." Mario had mentioned something about an open house at the spa. Maybe she'd pop in there and see what he was offering. "Have fun with Chelsea."

"Somehow I don't think fun is on the agenda for tonight," Peter said somewhat peevishly.

Schuyler Square Day 68 Mary Austin

2002

Mary Louise Austin was not having a good day. Not at all. It made her sick to her stomach that someone of her caliber with her educational background had been reduced to working for an insurance company. Worse, she wasn’t even a claims officer. She sat at a beat up desk in a beat up office being bossed around by a beat up old harpie who wouldn’t know a talented employee if one fell into her lap and bit her nose off. Mary loathed her boss, her co-workers and her salary. If it wasn’t for her relationship with Ron Schuyler she would have blown this pop stand of a town a long time ago.

Letting herself into her house and pouring a coffee cup full of Captain Morgan’s, Mary sat down in her recliner and brooded. She had known Ron for four months, had been sleeping with him for three and had been growing more and more irritated with him for the past six weeks. Ron kept promising that they’d sneak away for an illicit weekend in the Wisconsin Dells but he also kept on putting her off. ‘Too busy.’ ‘Annual report coming up.’ ‘I think I might have a head cold.’ Did he think she was stupid? Apparently he did and he just might be right about that one.

The problem was that Ron was getting something for nothing. The old why-buy-a-cow-when-the-milk-was-free syndrome and she was Elsie. Mary’s mother had warned her about men like Ron Schuyler but from the very first moment he’d walked into A-One Insurance to discuss a claim all of her mother’s warnings had flown out of her head like she'd stuck one of those mega vacuums at the do it yourself car wash next to her ear and let the sucker rip. That first day Mary had gotten Ron coffee, looked into his gorgeous blue eyes and fallen in love. One, two, three, just like that. Only he was married to someone else, a problem that seemed to be getting more and more insurmountable with every passing day.

“But what am I supposed to do?” Mary said out loud. She was in too deep just to break things off.  He was letting her live in a house owned by his company for free. He loaned her one of his cars, a very nice Hyundai with less than 200,000. And every other Thursday night he let her borrow his platinum card so she could get her nails done at Totally Toes and Fingers for half-price and he could get a few more points toward some free airline miles. Let’s face it: the man owned her.

Only Mary had the feeling that their little secret affair wasn’t quite so secret any longer. There was that weird message she’d gotten on her answering machine—the one where a breathy voice said, “I know about you, you tramp, and you’d better watch your back!” For the life of her Mary couldn’t tell if it was a man's or a woman’s voice but it scared her. Then there were the odd items that had been left on her front porch; a doll with its head broken off, an ash tray full of smoked cigarettes, old copies of the National Enquirer with articles on Burt Reynolds and Loni Anderson’s marriage circled in red and Loni's head cut off. What the hell was up with all that?

It was like someone was trying to send her a message but for the life of her Mary had no clue what they were trying to say. Maybe if she talked it over with a friend. Finishing her cup of Captain Morgan, Mary reached for the telephone and began to dial. She stopped almost immediately when she remembered that her list of friends in Schuyler Square was pretty short as in blank. Maybe that dingbat next door would listen. Chelsea What'-s-her-name. Mary thought for a moment and then refilled her coffee cup. She'd go chat with Chelsea after one more pick me up...

Schuyler Square Day 64 Girl Talk

"He left you. Peter really left you for her?" Veronica sat at Chelsea's kitchen table and wondered what the hell was wrong with her hometown. First Ron died and now Peter had left Chelsea for that horrible Mavis Schuyler. Veronica was starting to feel like no one in Schuyler Square was happy--herself included. Well, Mavis Schuyler was probably pretty happy. Not only did she have her Boy Toy in residence but she'd also be getting a hefty check from Ron's life insurance company any day now.

Chelsea nodded, her eyes red rimmed and her nose raw from blowing it every three seconds. She ate a chocolate chip cookie before answering, her tenth cookie in ten minutes.  "I still can't believe it!" she said thickly through a mouth full of chocolate chips, sugar and nuts, "I thought he loved me! I thought we had a good marriage--how could he ever choose someone like Mavis Schuyler over me?"

The answer was obvious but Veronica knew it would be cruel to point out that Mavis could offer Peter things like money, cars, panache and excellent table manners while all poor Chelsea had to offer were home-baked goods. "You need to do two things," she told her next-door neighbor firmly. "Get a good lawyer and start circulating." She was going to add "and start a diet" to the list but she didn't want to be too overwhelming.

"I already have a lawyer," Chelsea replied. "My brother Benny does something that's kind of like being a lawyer and he's going to represent me."

"What do you mean 'kind of like' being a lawyer? Either you are or you aren't."

"Not necessarily. Benny runs a business where he'll fill out legal forms for you for a very modest fee. He's going to save me a bundle."

Veronica tried not to whack Chelsea on the top of her head with her coffee mug. Honestly, some people went through life just begging to be skewered by everyone else. "Chelsea, don't you think you should get a real lawyer? I mean, Peter's going to have all of the Schuyler Corporation's legal minds giving him a hand. I don't want to see you end up with nothing."

"Peter wouldn't do that to me," Chelsea said stubbornly.

This poor woman. This poor, dumb, hopeless, clueless fool. "You never thought he'd cheat on you either," Veronica pointed out.

Chelsea's eyes narrowed. "It was all her fault," she spat out. "That woman turned my Peter's head! He never would have looked at her if she hadn't worked her voodoo on him."

Clearly they weren't getting anywhere. "Okay. Let's move on to Point Number Two: circulate. The best thing you can do is go out there and find a replacement for Peter as soon as you can. There are good men in the world, Chelsea. I'm sure there are even one or two in Schuyler Square. The very best remedy for a broken heart is to mend it with someone who will be nice to you."

"I don't want to date."

"Then hit the singles bars. Join a book club. Take up canoeing or photography or anything that will get you out among the living again. I know what I'm talking about, Chelsea. I've been dumped too and the only thing that saved me was a very full social life. It won't help you to sit around and brood."

Chelsea's cell phone played the theme from The Waltons. Veronica prayed that Mavis never heard that ringtone. The woman had enough ammunition as it was. "Hello? Yes, this is Chelsea Van Husen...what? You're sure? All right. I will. Thank you for calling." Chelsea set down her phone and looked across the kitchen table at Veronica. "That was the clinic." Her voice was numb.

Oh, no. More bad news? Veronica didn't think Chelsea could take it. She didn't think she could take it either. "What did they say?"

"I'm pregnant." Chelsea's red rimmed eyes began to shine. "It's a miracle, Veronica! Now Peter has to come back to me!" But Chelsea's smile was short lived. "There's one tiny problem," she added as she reached for yet another cookie.

One tiny problem? Veronica could spot at least half a dozen big hulking major problems from where she was sitting, the first one being that Chelsea's husband walked out on her for someone else. "What?"

"I'm not one hundred percent sure if Peter's the father."

Schuyler Square Day 63 Tyler in a Tiff

Tyler didn't get it. Truthfully, there was little in life that Tyler did get. Why couldn't people just be nice to each other? Why couldn't everyone follow the rules, do the right thing and share their Dortios at lunch time? He knew that he was hopelessly Out of It but Tyler, age twenty-two and heir to a mega-fortune, no longer cared. So what if he wasn't Cool? He was a nice human being and that had to count for something.

He stood in the doorway of the living room brooding. It made him positively ill to see his mother sitting with that slimeball police officer. Granted, his parents' marriage hadn't been the stuff dreams was made of but did she have to be so blatant?

"Tyler," his mother said, her voice three martini's past tipsy, "You remember Officer Van Husen."

"Of course I do," Tyler snapped. "What's he doing here?"

His mother hesitated. "Peter needs a place to stay for a while. I'm going to let him stay with us."

Her words remained in the air like time bombs. Finally, Tyler said, "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm here because your mom needs me," the creepy, uber blond cop told him. "She was kidnapped, Tyler. I'm going to stay with you and your family to keep everyone safe."

Yeah, right. And Cool Whip was diet food. Good grief, what was wrong with his mother that she couldn't see through this...this white bread faux protector? Was she that desperate?

"Tyler? You look upset. Are you all right?"

"I am upset," Tyler said through clenched teeth. "Dad isn't even cold and you're moving in his replacement?"

Mavis paled. "It isn't like that."

"All right," Tyler said evenly, "then where's Officer Van Husen sleeping tonight?"

He watched as Peter Van Husen and his mother exchanged shifty glances. It was embarrassing to be in the same room with the two of them, they looked so complicit. "In the guest room, of course," his mother replied.

"Where else?" Peter murmured.

Where else indeed? Tiffany had all but told him what was going on between Schuyler Square's finest and his own mother but Tyler hadn't believed her. He was unable to believe that the woman who had made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches whenever the maid was sick, the woman who had tucked him in and read him a bedtime story at least once a month, the woman who had given birth to him was fooling around with a guy young enough to be her nephew. It was sickening.

"All right," Tyler said. "As long as everything is above board of course I don't mind if Officer Van Husen stays here. I think it's an honor to have someone of his caliber as our guest and of course I'm pleased to know that he only has your best interests at heart, Mother."

Mavis looked away guiltily and Officer Van Husen looked a little sick to his stomach. Tyler felt sick too. His dad hadn't been gone for a week and Mom was moving in the replacements. Was there no justice in this world?

Sometimes, Tyler thought grimly, you have to make your own justice.

Schuyler Square Day 61 We Need to Talk

"We need to talk." Chelsea looked at her husband directly and tried not to sound wimpy or nervous. They did need to talk. Their marriage was on the line and Chelsea needed to know what was going to happen next. It occurred to her that with Ron Schuyler dead, Peter might just decide that he wanted a divorce so he could marry Ron's widow.

The thought made her sick. They had been married for almost twenty years and up until this whole Mavis-Peter debacle, Chelsea had thought they'd had a pretty good marriage. Maybe not fireworks and the Fourth of July every single night but pleasant enough. Her stomach turned at the thought that "pleasant enough" wasn't nearly enough for Peter. But what could she do? She couldn't turn herself into a pampered, wealthy princess overnight. And she wouldn't compete for her own husband.

Peter squirmed in his chair at the breakfast table. "I'm pretty exhausted, Chelsea. Can we talk later?"

"I don't think so. I've been putting this conversation off for a long time but I have that it's-now-or-never feeling."

"I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think you do. Peter, I know about you and Mavis Schuyler. It makes me sick and I'm not at all sure if I can ever forgive you but what I want to know now is what do you plan to do next?"

Peter looked as if he'd just been hit by a two by four. "You know about Mavis?"

"The check out clerk at Cashwise knows about you and Mavis," Chelsea told him. "You two weren't exactly discreet."

"But why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you let me know that you knew?"

"Would you have stopped?"

Peter's face turned a deep shade of red that almost matched Chelsea's freshly dyed hair. "I don't think so, Chelsea. I am sorry. Sorry I hurt you and sorry that everyone knows."

Chelsea felt her eyes fill with tears. "So what now? Are you going to keep seeing her?"

"I don't know. She was kidnapped and she needs someone to look after her. She doesn't have Ron anymore."

Revulsion made Chelsea's throat tighten. "And I suppose you think that you're that someone."

"She doesn't have anyone else, Chelsea. She needs me."

"I need you! I can't believe you're going to actually leave me for her--she'll never marry you, Peter. You're just another fling. Plus you're a civil servant. People like Mavis Schuyler may go to bed with civil servants but they never marry them. How can you do this to us?"

Peter looked miserable. "Maybe we could work something out--"

"Like you could stay married to me and date Mavis Schuyler at the same time? I don't think so, big boy. This isn't a reality show. This is real life and you're going to have to make a choice."

"I know that. And I think we both know what my choice is going to be."

Chelsea felt like the floor had just dropped out from beneath her. She should have known that money and glamour would beat out what she had to offer--a clean house and hot meals. What she hadn't known was that her husband was just as big of a rat as the late Ron Schuyler. "Get out."

"What?"

"I said get out. Go stay at Schuyler Manor because you sure as hell aren't staying here."

Peter rose from the table. "I'll be gone by the end of the weekend," he replied.

Chelsea remained at the table for a long time wondering how twenty years of marriage could vanish without a trace.

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 58 Peter's Worried

What a nightmare. What a complete, freaking nightmare. Of course, if Peter was honest with himself--something he'd been avoiding for the past few months--his life had become a freaking nightmare ever since he'd stupidly gotten involved with Mavis Schuyler. Now with Ron dead, Peter didn't know what was going to happen next but he had a sinking feeling that Mavis was going to dig her talons into him even deeper.

"So who do you think did Schuyler in?" Jim Waterson asked. Peter was in the break room at the station, exhausted from the night behind him but reluctant to go home. He knew that Chelsea would be waiting up for him with a million questions to fire at him before he was all the way through the front door. Questions he either couldn't answer or didn't want to.

"No clue," Peter replied.

Jim looked at him shrewdly. Jim had been on the force longer than Peter and little got past him. "Probably the wife. She's in line to become even wealthier than she is now."

"Possibly," Peter replied. He could feel pools of sweat forming under his arms. They were going to charge him extra cleaning fees when he returned his tux but the thought that Jim knew about Peter and Mavis was making him sick. It wasn't like they'd been all that discreet and if anyone thought about it for more than a minute or two,  Peter made just as likely a suspect as Mavis did.

"Of course," Jim added, "rumor has it that Mavis had a boyfriend on the side. It's possible that either her boyfriend took care of Ron or the boyfriend's wife did." Jim shot Peter a penetrating glance. "If the boyfriend was married, that is."

Damn. Jim knew. And if Jim knew, more people in Schuyler Square knew too. Peter's only hope was to play dumb. "I need to go home," he said, getting to his feet. "It's been a long night."

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "You should get home and talk to your wife. I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about. Say hi to Chelsea for me. Tell her she looked very...nice tonight. Very festive."

Jim didn't add that Chelsea also looked very desperate but Peter sensed that he wanted to. He decided that he'd never really liked Jim. The guy was a know-it-all and a detective wannabe in a one horse town. Not a good combination. "I'll do that."

"And Peter," Jim said when Peter was almost out the break room door, "get a good night's sleep yourself. You look like you've been through the wringer. Almost like--forget it."

"Almost like what?" Peter asked. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, really. Just that it was almost like you were then when Ron Schuyler bought the frm."

Schuyler Square Day 57 A Kinder, Gentler Mavis...Not

Mavis walked through the kitchen door blindly. A police officer—not Peter—had given her a ride home and while she was sure she had been polite to him, for the life of her she couldn’t remember a single thing he had said to her during the entire ride. Her mind seemed to be frozen and she couldn’t get the image of Ron lying on the black and white tile floor of the Schuyler Square Country Club kitchen out of her mind. Ron was dead! And she was his widow.

His extremely wealthy, still attractive widow a small voice inside her head pointed out. Who will surely be able to find another rich husband--perhaps one who doesn't have the personality of a toad.

True. Once the shock wore off, Mavis was sure that money and her natural good looks were going to do a lot to pull her out of any lingering malaise.

“Mavis!” Rosanne turned from the stove, spatula in her hand. For one brief, mad moment Mavis almost envied Rosanne. Her servant’s life had to be so simple and easy compared to her own. What would Rosanne ever have to worry about? Oh, to have been born of peasant stock! Life would be so much easier. “Sit down,” Rosanne urged. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

Obediently Mavis sank into one of the oak kitchen chairs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down in the kitchen. Had she ever? Probably not. Kitchens and Mavis didn’t mix well. She shuddered. Ron had been murdered in a kitchen. Why would he have been there in the first place? Ron didn’t like utilitarian places either.

“Can I get you anything?” Rosanne inquired. “I could make some coffee or tea—“

Mavis shook her head. “I’d like a glass of wine,” she said. “White, please.”

Rosanne’s eyebrows shot over the word ‘please.’ Mavis really needed to turn over a new leaf if merely being polite was so shocking to her cleaning lady. Well, perhaps this was the time she could do that. Now that Ron was gone maybe she could begin a new chapter in her life, a warmer, gentler chapter.

Rosanne set a glass of wine down in front of her. Picking it up eagerly, Mavis took an enormous swallow. “Rosanne!” she said angrily. “This isn’t cold enough! Don’t you know that yet that white wine has to be properly chilled? Maybe you don’t do that in your trailer park but here we chill Riesling to 47 degrees exactly! This is at least 52 degrees and it tastes like swill when it's warm.  I’d appreciate it if you’d stop reading your soap opera magazines long enough to remember that fact!”

Wordlessly, Rosanne picked up the wine, carried it to the sink and dumped it down the drain. Then she turned and left the kitchen without another word to Mavis.

Well, Mavis thought, she’d work on the warmer, gentler thing another day. When she wasn’t quite so frazzled.

Schuyler Square Day 53 An Odd Coincidence

“I don’t believe this.” Veronica Chandler felt as if her entire body had turned to ice. All around her the other guests at the Schuyler Square Policemen’s Retirement Ball were buzzing over the news that Ron Schuyler had been murdered. No one, Veronica noted, seemed too upset by the fact. If anything the party atmosphere had hardly been dampened. What kind of people are these? Don't any of them have emotions? Feelings?

“It is unbelievable,” Tom agreed. “Whoever offed Ron had to have been pretty gutsy to do it right here. I’m guessing it was a crime of passion instead of anything premeditated.”

“But who would want to see Ron dead?” Veronica asked.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her. “About half of the people attending this bash. At least. I’m sorry, Veronica, I know that you have a history with the man but Ron Schuyler was easily the most unpopular person in Schuyler Square. He was a snob, he treated everyone like crap, he went out of his way to be cruel and I’m just talking about with his immediate family members. You work at Schuyler Industries. You have to know that the late Ron Schuyler was universally disliked by everyone from the VPs all the way down the line.”

“It’s one thing to hate your boss but it’s something else to kill him,” Veronica replied. Her hands were shaking. All of her was shaking.

“It’s going to be pretty rough on Kirk, isn’t it?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know,” Veronica replied honestly. “He never really met Ron so it’s not going to be as hard as it would have been if they’d been close. On the other hand, the fact that Ron didn’t make any effort to get to know Kirk might make his death even more of an ordeal.”

“This is awful, isn’t it?” Chelsea Van Husen joined them.

“Horrible,” Veronica agreed. She looked at Chelsea. Her friend had changed out of her bright red outfit into a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt and running shoes. The casual attired looked strange with Chelsea's upswept hairdo and sparkling jewelry. “What happened to your new dress?”

Chelsea looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “Oh, I changed a couple of minutes ago. It was too uncomfortable and I figured I’d be here for most of the night so I wanted to be able to breathe. That dress pinched horribly. I guess I should have gotten it a size bigger but I thought for sure I'd lose ten pounds before the party.”

Veronica wished she could ditch her party clothes too. The heels she was wearing were killing her. “I suppose Peter is at the station.”

“Yes. He left a little while ago.”

“Did he give you any idea of who might have killed Ron?” Tom asked Chelsea in a hushed voice.

Chelsea shook her head. “Even if he knew he wouldn’t say anything to me. Peter is Mr. Straight and Narrow, you guys know that. My husband always does the right thing. It’s like being married to a Boy Scout.”

Veronica and Tom both looked away from Chelsea. It was hard to listen to a wife spout off about how wonderful her husband was when they both knew that Mr. Boy Scout was having an extremely torrid affair with the wife of the evening’s murder victim.

“I think I’d like to go home too,” Veronica said. “There’s no reason for us to stay, is there?”

“Has anyone from the police department questioned you?” Chelsea asked.

“Yes, we both gave statements,” Tom replied.

“Then you should be able to leave. I’m sure if they want to get in touch with you later, they will. After all, It’s not like either of you would have a motive to kill Ron Schuyler.”

Veronica wondered about that. It wouldn’t take a whole lot of probing for someone to find out that Ron was her son’s father. A father who never paid child support, never acknowledged their son and who had also recently hired her and owned the house she was living in.  “I’d like to go, Tom,” Veronica said.

Chelsea reached out and touched Veronica’s arm gently. “You know what’s weird? It’s twenty years exactly since that murder happened in your house. Mary Austin was murdered twenty years ago tonight. Odd, huh? Do you suppose there’s any kind of a connection?”

Schuyler Square Day 41 Chelsea Wants Revenge

What did her husband see in that woman? Chelsea Van Husen had been asking herself the same question over and over: what did Peter see in Mavis Schuyler? Staring across the well lit expanse of the We Dye For You Salon, Chelsea studied Mavis covertly.

OK, she was pretty but she was also well past 40, maybe even 50. Her body was still in good shape but the woman had seen a lot of miles and it showed. So what was the attraction? It sure couldn’t be her personality. Everyone knew that Mavis was about as warm as a fish. Chelsea just couldn’t understand why her husband, loyal, kind Peter, was fooling around with someone like Mavis.

Or maybe she did. It had to be the money. Chelsea had seen the clothes Peter was suddenly wearing, things he claimed to have found on the clearance rack at Sears. No way. Cashmere sweaters? Shoes made out of leather so soft that they felt like butter? Silk boxers? He must think she was stupid.

Well, Chelsea might not be the brightest bulb in the box but she was far from stupid. She had figured out that all of those meetings between Peter and Mavis weren’t exclusively about the Policeman’s Retirement Ball pretty quickly. Following the two of them around town had proven her suspicions. They made her sick—going to the Hilton so brazenly and then to the County Line Inn. They must think the whole town was stupid and blind.

The problem was: what should she do about it? Chelsea didn’t want a divorce. She didn’t make enough at Schuyler Industries to live on and without Peter’s salary she’d wind up either with a roommate or in a shelter within a couple of months. No, she’d way rather be a widow than a divorcee but that didn’t seem to likely either. Peter was only 40 and in extremely good health. Her only option left was to get rid of Mavis Schuyler once and for all.

 “You look like you’re deep in thought.” Sandra, the salon’s owner, commented.

“Just wondering if I should dye my hair. I think Peter might like me as a blonde.”

Chelsea saw a flash of pity in Sandra’s eyes. Like everyone else, Sandra must know how desperate Chelsea was feeling these days with her husband planking the First Lady of Schuyler Square. “You’d look very pretty as a blonde,” Sandra said, “but do it for you, not your husband.”

Oh, yes. Mavis Schuyler had to be eliminated. Chelsea had endured enough humiliation to last several life times. And then some.