A Quiche Before Dying

yours, do you think?“
    “Oh, I have no idea, and frankly, I don’t care where mine is.“ She paused, thinking. “However... if you’ve got an extra, I think I might use it as a weed killer in my yard.“ She glanced at the two of them and said, “Oh, I can see you scoffing, but psychic influence is very real, even if hard to capture in scientific terms. I once had a lovely oak tree in my yard that died, and I know it was because of the ugly patio furniture my sister-in-law gave me to set under it.”
    Shelley suddenly grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and pretended to blow her nose. Jane could see her friend’s shoulders shaking with laughter and was nearly infected herself. “Desiree, we won’t keep you from your health routine,“ she said, fighting to keep control.
    “Oh, do stay. I have some lovely snapdragon tea I just infused myself and some cornflower cakes.“ Shelley snorted.
    “No, really. I’ve got to run home and take Katie to work. We just wanted to see how you were. Thanks...“ She hesitated, drawing a deep breath and pinching her own leg to cause some distracting pain. “Thanks, anyway. Shelley, come on! Now!”
    They managed to get out of sight of the house before Shelley pulled over to the curb and put her head on the steering wheel, laughing helplessly. “Assassin lawn furniture!“ she gasped. “I wonder if Stormin’ Norman knows about it? He could have had K Mart ship a load to the Gulf and saved calling up all those reserves.”
     

15
     
    “Shelley, will you please get yourself together?“ Jane said ten minutes later as they pulled into Shelley’s driveway. They were both exhausted from laughter.
    “All right. I’m over it,“ Shelley said, finishing this statement with a giggle.
    “Now, this is serious. Listen to me, Shelley. The poison could have come from those plants she’s got. And she denied having known Mrs. Pryce in Paris.“
    “Maybe because she didn’t know her. It’s possible, Jane,“ Shelley said, wiping her eyes. “As for the plants, I don’t see how she could kill anybody with them, except by accident.“
    “Maybe it was.“
    “Come on, Jane. She just chopped up something, happened to carry a bottle of it around with her, and accidentally poured it on Mrs. Pryce’s quiche at the exact moment nobody was looking? Not too likely.”
    Jane frowned. “You’ve got a point. Still, she can’t really be as weird as she acts. Nobody could get through life that way. She might be really cunning and bright.“
    “Oh, I think she’s smart. Some of the smartest people I know are the weirdest,“ Shelley said.
    Jane arched an eyebrow “You aren’t referring to me, are you? Listen, Shelley, I know what I’m talking about on this Paris thing. I grew up all over the world, and believe me, even in a big city like Paris, the Americans who actually live there all know about each other, even if they’ve never met.“
    “But you’re talking about normal people, Jane. Desiree is the type who would have lived in a commune, trying to teach the French to speak Esperanto or raise freshwater oysters or whatever her current interest happened to be. I can’t see the diplomatic community throwing their arms wide and pressing her to their collective bosoms, can you?“
    “Lord, no! Maybe you’re right. But—although I hesitate to mention the subject—you notice she didn’t produce proof that the extra copy of Pryce’s book wasn’t hers?”
    Shelley put her hands to her head in exasperation. “So what? Jane, you’re getting obsessed with this book thing.“
    “I don’t know. I just think this book means something.“
    “It means you have sticky fingers and a dismal memory.“ Shelley leaned on the horn, and at Jane’s questioning look, she explained, “Denise has an orthodontist’s appointment in ten minutes.”
    Jane got out of the car just as Denise came flying out of the Nowacks’ house and flung herself into the back of the minivan, saying, “Quick, Mom. Somebody might see me.”
    Her own house was quiet when Jane went inside. She looked in the garage. The car was gone, which probably meant that both her mother and daughter were away. She yelled up the steps to be sure. The only answer was blessed quiet except for the furtive jingle of Willard’s tags as he came creeping out from his hiding place behind the sofa.
    “Let’s go outside, Lionheart,“ she said. She picked up the folder with her story about Priscilla and her copy of