Mother's Day Murder. Leslie Meier

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СКАЧАТЬ table, the Nowaks, who were making a point of ignoring the fuss. At least Tina was. She was a large, sporty woman and was shoveling in forkfuls of food, intent on getting her money’s worth out of the buffet. Her husband, Lenny, a slight, serious man with a mop of curly gray hair, who wore oversize tortoiseshell eyeglasses, was staring at his plate and pushing his food around with his fork, looking distinctly uncomfortable. In contrast, their sixteen-year-old daughter, Heather, was staring contemptuously at Bar, just as you might expect from a talented figure skater who competed regularly and wasn’t afraid of a challenge.

      “It’s a family tradition,” continued Bar in a voice that carried to the farthest corners of the room. “We come here every year for Mother’s Day, and we always sit at that table.”

      Jasper cleared his voice and folded his hands. “I am so sorry. There must have been some confusion. We have some new staff members from Ukraine….”

      “The person I spoke to was not Ukrainian. She spoke perfect English.”

      “I regret the mistake,” continued Jasper, “but as you can see, the table is occupied. I will be happy to seat you someplace else.”

      “I did not reserve a table ‘someplace else,’” snapped Bar. “I demand that you move those Nowaks from the table that should have been reserved for us and reseat them.” Bar glared at Tina. “Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody hasn’t done this on purpose, just to slight me.”

      If she was hoping to get a response from Tina, she was disappointed.

      Bart, however, cleared his throat, perhaps signaling his wife to cease and desist. If he thought such a subtle hint would calm Bar, he was mistaken.

      She snapped her head around to face him, eyes ablaze. “Darling,” she began in a tone that was hardly loving, “perhaps you should slip the maître d’ a little something so we can get the table we want.”

      At the Nowaks’ table, Tina’s face reddened, but she continued to concentrate on her food. Her husband, Lenny, looked as if he was ready to abandon ship and vacate the table. He half rose from his chair but, receiving a sharp glance from Tina, sat back down. Heather was smirking, evidently finding the entire episode just another example of parental foolishness.

      Jasper assumed a pained expression. “That will not be necessary,” he said. “Now, since it is impossible—”

      “Nothing’s impossible,” declared Bar, eyes blazing. “Since you’ve gone to the trouble of importing all these Ukrainians, temporary workers, I presume, who will be returning to their native villages at the end of the summer?”

      “Absolutely,” said Jasper, with a nod. “They all have temporary work visas.”

      “You’d better see they do. The country’s already got twelve million illegal aliens, you know, and we don’t need any more. Especially since most of them don’t even bother to learn English.”

      “We screen our temporary workers very carefully, and I can assure you they all speak English.”

      “Well, that’s something. Now, why don’t you put them to work and have them reseat those people”—she pointed at the Nowaks—“so we can have our table.”

      Jasper’s professional veneer of patience was wearing thin. “We cannot disturb the other diners,” he said. “I’ll be happy to seat you at another table.”

      “Come along, Bar,” said Bart, taking his wife by the elbow. “How about that table over there? It’s by a window, too.”

      “But it’s not the corner,” replied Bar. “It’s not our table.”

      Bart was firm. “It’s a window, and I’m hungry.”

      “Oh, all right,” Bar said, with a sigh, dramatically rolling her eyes. “I don’t want to make a fuss.”

      “Right, Mom,” muttered Ashley, sarcastically, as the group was ushered past the desired corner table.

      Tina waited until Bar was behind her chair, and then she spoke to her husband. “Don’t you think it was rude of Bar to make such a fuss?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Especially for someone who thinks she’s the next Emily Post.”

      Bar pretended not to hear the comment but seemed to flinch slightly as she followed Jasper to the small window table adjacent to the Stones’ large round one. Jasper made an elaborate show of pulling out chairs for Bar and Ashley and even placed napkins on their laps with a graceful flourish and snapped his fingers to attract the water boy’s attention. He was filling their glasses when Bar took her revenge.

      “You know,” she began, placing her hand on her husband’s arm and leaning toward him, speaking in a low tone that nevertheless carried across the room, “sometimes when I’m target shooting, I imagine Tina Nowak’s face on the target.” She giggled and smoothed her napkin. “It’s a surefire way to get a bull’s-eye.”

      Chapter Two

      “What’s with that woman?” asked Elizabeth on the ride home. “Did you hear what she said?”

      “I think the whole room heard it,” said Lucy, who was feeling rather uncomfortable. She’d eaten too much and couldn’t wait to get out of those control-top panty hose. And her thoughts had returned to Corinne Appleton’s mother, a woman whose problems were real, in contrast to Bar Hume, who made them up. “I think she meant them to. She wanted to create a scene and shock people.”

      “But why?” persisted Elizabeth. “Why would she say a thing like that? It’s like saying she wanted to shoot Mrs. Nowak. Why would she even think it? It’s sick.”

      “It’s the clash of the supermoms,” explained Lucy. “Somebody ought to make a movie. They’re always trying to outdo each other. It’s a continuing drama, kind of like a soap opera. Everybody gets a kick out of it. Some people have even taken up sides, depending on their politics. Bar’s a Republican, she’s head of the town Republican committee, and Tina’s a Democrat. She’s head of the town Democratic committee. They actually do quite a bit of good for everybody as they try to outshine each other.”

      “It still sounds sick to me,” said Elizabeth. “Especially when one starts talking about shooting the other.”

      “Nobody’s going to shoot anybody,” said Bill. “You’ve been living in Boston, after all. They’re always shooting each other there. But it’s different here in Tinker’s Cove. Right, Lucy?”

      Lucy didn’t answer immediately. She was looking out the window at the round little harbor, where white boats bobbed on the still blue water. She was thinking about Corinne and what her parents must be going through, wondering if she was still alive. “Sometimes I think this thing between Bar and Tina goes too far, especially the way they push their daughters into competing with each other.”

      “What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth.

      “They’re tied for valedictorian,” said Sara. “They have the same grade point averages, but Heather does take easier courses, because she has to spend so much time practicing her ice skating. She’s a figure skater, she’s won a lot of prizes, and she wants to go to Harvard.”

      “She’s going to the regionals,” said Lucy, who СКАЧАТЬ