A Quiche Before Dying

coming to her eyes. “Life would be awful without a mother,“ she said, just as a bright red Jeep turned in to the driveway. “There’s Mike!”
    This time she waited inside. Mike wouldn’t appreciate his mother flying out the door and folding him in an embrace in front of his friend Scott.
    He came in the door—tall, young, healthy, Jane’s true pride and joy. Jane got teary again. She’d be holding up better, she knew, if it weren’t for waiting for Mel to call and confirm her suspicions. She wasn’t normally a weeper.
    Mike had a packet of information from each college they’d visited. As he pulled out each one, Jane had to stop herself from crying, “Don’t go so far away, please.“ She couldn’t ever say that to him, least of all today when he was on the brink of going away and growing up entirely. He was so excited about leaving home.
    When Todd came home, he took his grandmother upstairs to show her his hamsters (as if she hasn’t been smelling the damned things for days, Jane thought). Jane got up to fix herself and Mike a soft drink while Mike stretched his long legs under the table. “Mom, I had a great time seeing those places.“
    “I’m glad, honey. How are you going to decide on which one to go to?“
“Well, I think maybe I’ve decided already.“
“Oh? You’ve got a whole year to think about it.“
    “I think I’ll just start out right here at the junior college.“
    “Mike! Why? You aren’t worried about the money, are you? I told you I can come up with—“
    “No, Mom. It’s not the money. It’s you. I think you need me here.”
    Don’t cry! Jane told herself. She set his drink down and took his big hands in hers. “Mikey, I do need you. But I don’t want you to stay here because of me. I’ll muddle along. Maybe when I’m eighty and getting around with a walker, I’ll ask you to take care of me, but not until then.“
    “You sure?“
    “Absolutely certain,“ she said with a lot more sincerity in her tone than she felt.
     
    Uncle Jim Spelling called at four, barking as she picked up the phone, “Jane! I’ve just caught up on the papers. I didn’t know about Mrs. Pryce. You stay out of this, you hear me!”
    She considered explaining, but didn’t have the heart or the energy. “I will, Uncle Jim. You’re coming to dinner Sunday, aren’t you?“
    “Will the Dragon Lady be there?“
    “ ‘Fraid so.“
    “Good. I haven’t had a chance to rile her up for a long time. I’ll be there. Jane, you do like I tell you. You and Cecily stay clear of that class business until the police sort this out. Are you listening to me? I mean it!”
    By five-thirty, when she was starting dinner, Jane was a wreck. When the phone rang, she leaped for it, even though the last six calls had been Mike’s friends welcoming him home.
    “Jane?“ Mel’s voice.
    “Yes?“
    “I think you’re right. I’m sorry.”
    Jane slid down the cabinet and sat on the floor. “Oh, so am I. When will you...?“
    “As soon as I’m sure.“
    “Mel, please don’t tell anyone that I figured it out.“
    “I won’t. I’ve got to go. I just wanted to tell you.”
    Mel hung up, but Jane couldn’t move. Cecily found her still sitting on the floor. “Was that Mel? Were you right?“
    “Yes. And I’ve never been sorrier about anything.”
     
    Missy, of course, knew nothing of what was going on behind the scenes and began the class with brisk enthusiasm. “I regret that I didn’t schedule this as a two-week course. You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I race along and try to cover as much material as I can as quickly as possible. We’re going to save the last hour of class tonight for critiquing the manuscripts I handed out to you before the class sessions started. Now, I want to talk briefly about the value and use of photos, documents, and letters in an autobiography—”
    For once, Jane didn’t find herself automatically applying the information to her book—yes, it was becoming a book—about Priscilla. But she took notes assiduously, so that she wouldn’t be tempted to look around at the class members. She was afraid of meeting the murderer’s eyes. She knew if that happened, her own shame would flash like a neon light.
    The first interminable hour passed and they took a short break, then reassembled. The tension was so thick that Jane wondered how anyone could breathe. But the others didn’t seem to notice it. Or did they? Bob Neufield was staring at her, which made her skin