A Quiche Before Dying

her notebook, still troubled by the mysterious extra copy of Mrs. Pryce’s book. If it didn’t belong to any of them, how did it get in Shelley’s car? And why?
    By the time class was over, she had pages of notes of ideas for organizing Priscilla’s story. Listening to Missy’s lesson, it occurred to her that it would be much more interesting if she started somewhere near the end of Priscilla’s life, and suggested mysterious and dramatic things that had happened to her, then started back at the beginning.
    A picture had formed in her mind of Priscilla as an old woman, dignified and aloof, living in near isolation in a house in the woods. And by her side, a wolf. A tame wolf, looking up at his mistress, ready to spring to her defense should an enemy come. She didn’t know where the wolf idea had come from, but she liked it. If she started with this scene, with a lone horseman approaching—Priscilla calm, perhaps with a weary smile of welcome, the wolf alert, but looking to her to read her reaction to the visitor
    “Will you wake up!“ Shelley said, nudging her as they came out of the building.
    “Sorry, I was just thinking about—“ Then she spotted why Shelley was prodding her back to the present tense. Mel VanDyne’s little red MG was parked across the lot, and he was approaching.
    “Later, Pris,“ Jane murmured as if she had to excuse herself to a real person. “Hi, Mel. I wasn’t expecting to see you.“
    “I stopped by your house and realized you must be here. How’d it go tonight?“ His gaze swept the three of them.
    “A very interesting class,“ Cecily answered. “Nobody died,“ Shelley added.
    Jane could see that Mel was surprised, maybe even offended, by Shelley’s bluntness. He really didn’t know anything about women, Jane realized. If they weren’t fluffy, he didn’t know what to make of them. He probably thought all mothers were really Donna Reed at heart.
    “Glad to hear it,“ he said, turning to walk them to Jane’s elderly station wagon. “Jane, are you free to go for a little ride? I could follow you home—“
    “Go on, Jane. I’ll drive your car,“ Shelley said.
    “No, Mom can drive. I’m not insured for demolition derby drivers.“
    “Jane, I’ve never had an accident,“ Shelley reiterated.
    “Why you haven’t is one of the great mysteries of the universe,“ Jane said. “It ranks just behind ‘Is there a God?’ “
    “Girls!“ Cecily said. “Stop squabbling. I’ll drive.”
    Mel grinned, and when he’d shown Jane to the car and got in himself, he said, “A mother is a mother forever.“
    “Dear God, I hope not!“ Jane said, laughing. “It’s a condition I hope to be eventually cured of.“
    “You don’t mean that,“ Mel said, turning around and backing out. He put his arm across the back of the seats to do so. Jane liked the brief warmth of his arm against her shoulders.
    “No, I don’t. Mel, would you drive by Desiree Loftus’s house? She wasn’t at class.“
    “You think something’s happened to her?“ He was suddenly all business.
    “No, I just want to be sure.”
    Mel found the house without being told the address. Jane realized that he must have a very retentive mind for details of an investigation. As they pulled up in front, however, Desiree could be seen in the front window, carrying a plant through the living room. “Want to go in?“ Mel asked.
    Jane was relieved. “No need. I was being an alarmist. Where are we off to?“
    “I thought a Coke at McDonald’s?“
    “My kind of date,“ Jane said, then wondered if that had been the wrong thing to say. This wasn’t exactly a date. It was more a casual pickup. She smiled at the thought of being picked up on the cusp of forty.
    They got their drinks, then Mel drove to the mall, closed and deserted now, and stopped and turned off the car in the middle of the huge parking expanse. “Just thought I’d fill you in a bit,“ he said.
    Jane very nearly said, “Gee, I hoped we were going to make out,“ but thought better of it for several reasons, the primary being that it was too close to the truth. The other thing that stopped her was the realization that they probably didn’t call it that anymore, and he’d feel as if he were out with his mother. Instead, she asked, “Any more word on the poison?“
    “Not yet,“ he said. “I guess once you get past the usual things to test for, you’ve got a lot of weird stuff to work through. But I did find out a few things I