Maggie Barbieri - Third Degree (Murder 101 Mysteries)

In memory of John McVeigh. Mac the Knife,
you were a true gentleman.

Acknowledgments

I am one of those people who can sit down and write a book with only a few tears shed and a little teeth-gnashing. But write a thank-you note, a letter explaining my kids absence, or anything that resembles a message of sympathy and Im at a loss. Ill do my best to thank the people who are instrumental in helping me create and write about the life of Alison Bergeron and the mysteries she solves. I consider myself very lucky to be surrounded by the people who make writing, working, and living very easy tasks for me. Ill try to do my best to let them know here.

Thank you to Deborah Schneider and Cathy Gleason at Gelfman Schneider for their unfailing support and good humor when I turn into needy author.

Thank you to Andy Martin, Kelley Ragland, Matt Martz, and Sarah Melnyk at Minotaur Books for embracing both my story and Alison Bergerons.

We used to be a writers group, but now were just a duo. Thank you to Alison Hendrie, without whose encouragement and wise counsel I would not be able to do what I do with any confidence whatsoever.

The posse at NYU remains true and committed to making sure I stay healthy and sane. Thank you to Anna, Rosie, Queen, Kathy, Rajni, Caroline, Crystal, Norma, Nelson, and Nurse Joanne; words will never be able to express what you mean to me. Youre doing great on the healthy part. The sane part? Not so much.

Thank you to Lucy Zahray, the Poison Lady, who taught me more than I ever thought I would need to know about arsenic.

Thank you to Jim, Dea, and Patrick. I couldnt have dreamed up a more wonderful family.

Contents

One

Meeting your boyfriends parents for the first time shouldnt involve wearing bathing suits.

Is it just me or should that be a hard and fast rule?

My best friend, Max, didnt agree. Anytime she gets to wear a bikini is a good day. But shes a size two with six-pack abs. Me? I like to think that at five ten I resemble one of those hard-bodied beach volleyball players, but in actuality, Im less gazelle and more stork. With a potbelly.

I was headed to meet my boyfriends clan, the Crawfords. And frankly, Im a little uncomfortable, at my age, with the boyfriend designation; sounds a little juvenile to me but I hadnt come up with anything better. This soiree was being hosted by Bobbys brother, Jimmy, whom I had met under less than ideal circumstanceslets just say that it was an unfortunate incarceration and hes a really good lawyerand his wife, Mary Pat, and I had been told that it would take place around the swimming pool. And that Mary Pat had a banging body, according to her husband, who was completely in her thrall. Hence, my dilemma.

Max said that I needed to get a sarong.

I spoke slowly. But that would mean that I would have to go to Bali and I dont have time for that. We need to be there by two.

They sell sarongs in America, she reminded me.

Yes, but that would mean I would have to go to a mall, and in case you didnt hear me, we need to be there by two. Anyway, I was still in bed, talking to Max on the phone.

I wish you had told me sooner. I would have lent you one of mine. I didnt ask why she had a sarongor more than one, for that matternor did I remind her that I outweighed her by fifty pounds and would look stupid with her sarong tied around one leg. As fascinating as this problem is, I have to go. The Hooters waitresses are threatening to strike if I dont give them a real case to work on.

Max is the head of a cable network called Crime TV and is working on a reality show that combines Hooters waitresses and private investigation. (Dont say it. I already know.) I had no idea how that was considered entertainment but Max had the golden touch and every reality show she produced was a ratings blockbuster. She was considered something akin to lightning in a bottle in the world of reality television combined with crime, so who was I to judge? Im a college professor who teaches creative writing to disaffected college freshmen, along with a few upper-level courses to juniors and seniors, and Max thinks that its a miracle I can stay awake while giving lectures to my classes, which I take as more of an insult to my teaching ability than to the attention span of my students. I like my job, even if when I use a three-syllable word, the students look at me with the same quizzical look my dog gives me when I say anything besides her name and the word cocktails.

I had described the show to Crawford, and his eyebrows rose. Youve got to admit, he said, his cheeks turning slightly red at the thought, theres something to be said for women with big boobs in bikini tops following philandering husbands around. And then, because hed spent his formative years as an altar boy and knew that he was going to hell for saying boobs in mixed company, he wisely shut up. And probably did a silent Act of Contrition.

My eyes lighted on the cherry Ring Pop sitting on my nightstand that was, ostensibly, my engagement ring. It had all happened so fast; we had just left City Hall after Max and her husband, Fred, had gotten marriedand Crawford had sprung a proposal on me, shocking me with his spontaneity. Crawfords not a spontaneous guy; everything he does is thought out and measured, wood burning in that gorgeous head of his. But this was completely out of the blue and I hadnt really given him an answer. The pool party and the meeting of the entire family, though? That made me think that he assumed that I had said yes. I probably would at some point, but for right now, I was on the fence. Everything was great between us. But having been married to a serial philanderer, who was now six feet under, I was a little gun-shy. It was going to take me a while to sort this whole thing out.

After staring at the Ring Pop for an inordinately long period of time, I went back to staring at my old bathing suit. I chided myself for not having done what most normal people would do in this situation: gone to the mall and tried on every bathing suit in the store. However, since it was August, I was sure that fall clothes were already on the racks, and I would be destined to take one of the last suits in the store, either a string bikini or a flowered muumuu with matching leggings.

Crawford said that everyone swims at Jimmys parties; that was a direct quote. Apparently, Jimmy had spent a boatload of money on a pool and hot tub and the family was a bunch of waterlogged Irish Americans who couldnt be dragged out. And they loved to play Marco Polo, according to Crawford. I lay back on my bed, considering my options. I could tell Crawfords family that I had just had liposuction on my abdomen and I couldnt get my stitches wet. Nobody would believe that. Even in a prone position, my stomach was visible over the waistband of my pants. I could tell them that I almost drowned as a kid and was afraid of the water, which was true. Or, I could just tell them the truth, which is that I cant swim and avoid water and all related sports. One thing Ive found is that if you tell someone you cant do math, theyre fine with it. Cant read? No problem. Well teach you! Cant swim? Admitting that is akin to admitting youve been in the pen. Nobody believes you and then, after theyve stopped laughing, everybody eyes you suspiciously.

I have a lot of other admirable qualities but didnt feel like I could share them with the Crawfords without sounding like a braggart. One of them is that I exaggerate everything to the point of paralysis at the thought of certain situations.

Like meeting your future in-laws. And revealing a character flaw like not being able to swim.

I got off the bed and looked at my bathing suit on the floor next to the bed. It was the same one I had had since my honeymoon with my late ex-husband. I had forgotten to pack a bathing suit for the trip (which gives you a little insight into my preoccupied, postwedding statepaging Dr. Freud ) even though we were headed to Aruba, and had been forced to buy a two-hundred-dollar Speedo in the hotel gift shop that was now more than ten years old and missing some important expanses of elastic.