She kept her observations and suspicions to herself.
Serena asked Estelle for the Stanley file, pressed some numbers into her cell phone, then took a meeting with Morty over a box of Dunkin Donuts. When she left, she stopped at Estelle’s desk.
“Estelle, I have a favor to ask you.”
Estelle’s green-shadowed eyes narrowed.
* * * *
“Thanks for squeezing me in today,” Serena murmured as the middle-aged beautician deftly painted a coat of passion fruit lacquer on her nails.
“Not at all, hon. We’re not too busy this early in the week.”
“I have a job interview at Millard Department Store, and I want to look nice,” Serena lied.
“Oh, really, dear.” Anne Marie Curran, owner of Hair Today and Nails Too!, regarded her with watery blue eyes. “Worked there myself many years ago. In Foundations. My first husband is president of it now. And I just heard on the news that his wife killed herself. What a terrible thing.” She shook her head, setting dangle earrings swaying. Her heavily mascaraed eyes grew glossy with tears. “I wonder if I should call Artie?”
“Uh—”
“You’re right.” Anne Marie shrugged off the thought and briskly resumed her work. “I mean, it’s been years. We’re in the same town, but might as well be in different countries. Artie moved up in the world pretty quick with his second marriage.” She tsk-tsked. “What a thing, what a thing.”
“Were you and uh, Artie, married long?”
“No, just a couple of years. Artie, he liked expensive things. And she could give him those things.” She looked up briefly and stabbed the air with the orange-tipped brush as she said, “Bunny. That was her nickname. Her real name was Beatrice. Her father owned the department stores. Big girl, pushy if you ask me. God forgive me for speaking ill of the dead.”
She paused, cupping her chin in a ring-laden hand. “Don’t know what she saw in Artie. Well, he was kind of cuddly and old fashioned. What’s that word? Like the knights and ladies? Chiv something.”
“Chivalrous?”
“That’s it. But I like what I got.”
“Your family?” Serena nodded to a dozen framed photos.
“My grandbabies. My husband now, Jimmy, we had five of our own. Artie and I didn’t have any. Let’s just say that my Jimmy has more energy in the romance department.” She winked.
Serena laughed. “I like a little energy in the romance department myself.”
“Artie, well, things were fine, but truth be told he was kind of shy”—Anne Marie lowered her voice conspiratorially—“in the romance department, if you get my meaning.”
Serena nodded encouragingly.
“I kind of liked that about Artie. He was never pushy or anything.” Anne Marie paused wistfully. “Not too adventurous. He even liked the lights off. Didn’t undress in the light either. But that Bunny didn’t look too spicy herself, so they probably worked out fine.”
* * * *
Serena pulled into the visitors’ parking lot of Oceanview Elementary School and slipped on sunglasses and a hat. After scanning Estelle’s files, she had called the office at Oceanview and asked for an interview with Miss Krystle Kawicki. She explained that she was a student at the university hoping to follow a fellow alumna’s footsteps into the guidance-counseling field and had a few questions. Fortuitously, Miss Kawicki had a few free minutes that afternoon.
A secretary directed Serena to the guidance counselor’s office. As Serena knocked, a pigtailed girl left while Krystle distractedly filed papers and waved her to a couch lined with worn teddy bears. Serena perched on the edge of the couch as Krystle resumed her seat. THE HUGS START HERE read a wooden sign on Krystle’s desk. “So what can I do for you, Miss DeMille?”
Serena took off the glasses and hat. “It’s about Artie.”
Krystle’s face remained frozen in mid-smile, but her eyes went blank and wary. “Artie who?” she asked brightly.
Serena pulled a still photo of Artie and Krystle at the Dutch Maid from her bag. She held it just out of Krystle’s reach.
Krystle bolted from her chair and yanked down the venetian blinds on her window to the hallway.
“What are you up to?” she hissed, her back pressed to the window.
Serena returned the photo to her bag, careful to keep her movements slow and smooth. Krystle panted with the tightly coiled energy of a cornered animal. Serena casually crossed her slim, long legs.
“Artie’s gonna rat you out,” Serena said. She could hear the surging murmur and muffled shouts of students changing classes in the hall outside Krystle’s office. “Let’s face it. You’re getting a little soft. Artie’s just using you to get all that wonderful money to himself. Sure he has a great job, but Bunny held the purse strings to the real money. And he’s gonna tell the cops that you did it, because…” She watched warily as Krystle picked up an oversized teddy bear, her fingernails digging into its soft, stuffed belly. “Because you’re the one who arranged the hit. Not Artie.”
Bull’s-eye, she thought, watching Krystle’s eyes narrow.
Krystle’s glossy red lips twisted. “You’re lying. Go ahead and show that picture to anybody. Artie loves me. An affair’s no big deal.”
Serena smiled comfortably. “Artie’s not your only problem. The guy you hired is. Not Acerman,” she explained quickly. “The hired gun. He’s a talker. You’d better take care of him. And in the meantime, you might want to give me some cash to keep quiet about your part in it.”
Krystle hurled the bear. “What I’m going to give you is a—”
Both women jumped when a little boy jerked the door open. “Isn’t it my Teddy Time, Miss Kawicki?”
“Just sit in the waiting chair, Timmy. I’ll be right with you.”
Serena was impressed by the cheerfully calm sing-song with which Krystle had addressed the little boy. Krystle was a good actress. Dangerously good.
“Let’s not hold up Timmy any longer.” Serena grabbed her bag. “I’ll see you here next week, Miss Kawicki.” Serena smiled slowly. “Thanks for the teddy time.”
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, Serena chuckled as she watched Krystle race into the parking lot. Like a kid after an ice cream truck, she thought. Serena sank behind the wheel of Estelle’s maroon Yugo as Krystle’s Jetta screeched into the traffic on Cliffside Avenue. It hadn’t been hard to convince Estelle to switch cars for the day. Morty said never tail the same subject in the same car. Serena let a couple of cars slip between the Yugo and Krystle’s Jetta. “Stay back, relax, keep subject in view. And above all, keep it simple,” she chanted. Her cell chimed. A text message from Morty: Founders Park. Serena smiled; she hadn’t known where Krystle would go, but she was pretty sure what she would do.
