A Quiche Before Dying

intrusion into Grady’s life. She knew her mother wouldn’t have any cause to speak to anyone about Grady and Missy, but swore her to secrecy in any case. “Oh, I forget. Your wine.“ Jane recounted her horrible visit to the liquor store.
    “The dreadful man! How nice to see justice done once in a while. He didn’t get hurt, did he?“
    “I don’t think so. He was still bellowing about how it was all somebody else’s fault when I left.“
    “Jane—maybe he’s your secret admirer.“
    “Oh, I hope not! No, he couldn’t be. A man who asks a woman if she’s ‘getting any’ wouldn’t have the grace and romance to send flowers. He’d be more likely to send a vibrator—or one of those cakes from an obscene bakery. No, I think it’s probably Grady. He knew I was as embarrassed as he was. They’re probably apology flowers. I put in a call to Missy to find out, but I got her machine.“
    “I imagine you’re right. Jane, tell me about this story you keep going back to working on.”
    Jane sat back and brushed dirt off her gloves. “I’m almost afraid to talk about it. Missy says it could be a book.“
    “How wonderful.“ There wasn’t a scintilla of disbelief in her voice. Just genuine pleasure.
    “No, it’s really not. I don’t know the first thing about writing a book, and I feel like a fraud even saying it.“
    “Nobody knows if they can write a book until they try it. I think you should give it your best shot. If it doesn’t pan out, you’d have had a good time trying. Tell me about it. It’s a novel, right?“
    “I can only tell you about the part that’s written. Missy says so.“
    “Then tell me that.”
    Cecily had some interesting ideas for plot twists, and she enthusiastically supported Jane’s idea of using part of her inheritance from her friend to buy a computer. “You’re in the Stone Age nowadays if you don’t have one. You could also do your household bookkeeping on it and get some games for the children. On second thought, that part’s probably counterproductive,“ Cecily said. When they finally went back into the house, Jane was bubbling with ideas and had, in addition, four little cucumbers that had actually grown on her side of the fence to make into a salad. “Jane, I’ll make dinner. You work on your book,“ Cecily said.
    “I can’t do that. You’re a guest.“
    “Yes, you can. I’m your mother and I’m telling you to go write. Give me the car keys. I’ve got a new recipe I want to try out on you.”
    Jane spent the rest of the afternoon blissfully involved with Priscilla. She made one quick run to the library to get a book on Colonial costume and another on social customs, but didn’t let herself get sidetracked into reading them yet.
    Nor did she consciously let herself think about Mrs. Pryce’s murder. But it kept running through her mind like a dark undercurrent. Missy, Grady, Bob Neufield, Desiree, Ruth, Naomi, and Maria Espinoza kept popping into her thoughts, and she kept shoving them aside.
    And other thoughts kept crowding in at her, too. The extra book in Shelley’s car, the little birdcage, the beautiful flower arrangement. Were they, in some obscure way, threats? Somebody was giving her things. Of course, the book and birdcage could have been accidental. Things that just got left someplace and had nothing to do with her. But the flowers—what about the flowers? They weren’t accidental. Someone deliberately sent her flowers. They went in and ordered and paid for them.
    “Jane! Dinner’s ready!“ Cecily called up the stairs. Jane glanced at her watch and was astonished to see that it was already six o’clock. Where had the time gone?
     
    “Mom, that was great,“ Jane said, taking one last bite of cucumber. Cecily had fixed a chicken casserole dish with peas and water chestnuts that was layered with lasagna noodles and white sauce and cheese-crusty on the top.
    “It’s the curry powder.“
    “I didn’t taste curry.“ Jane started clearing the table.
    “That’s the secret. There’s not a chicken dish in the world that can’t benefit from a breath of curry. Jane, I’ll do that. You’ve got to get to class.“
    “Me? Aren’t you coming?“
    “Not tonight. Katie called while you were in the basement throwing things in the dryer. She said there’s some problem with the chlorine tanks and they’re closing the pool tonight at seven. She wanted to know if we could go to a movie. I told her you needed to go to class, but