The Pinch of Death: a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

Chapter 4: Honey

Climbing the apartment house stairs Jacquetta felt a surge of pleasure when she saw light under the door. Her roommate was home! She unlocked the door shouting, “It’s me,” in case Honey’s boyfriend Barney was staying over. But Honey was alone. She appeared in the doorway with a fizzy glass of champagne.

“Congratulations! How was the party?”
Honey was a slight thin-faced girl with a fine, flower-like expression that could easily seem pinched or pulled by worry or a lack of sleep. Tonight, however, she was beaming.

“It fizzled. I had one drink and left.” Jacquetta happily accepted the champagne.

“Nelson?” Honey asked sympathetically.
“He acted like it was a funeral and I had better things to do.”

Their last fight would always ring in Jacquetta’s ears as Nelson yelled how superior she would soon feel as she looked down on his spiritual squalor from her ivory tower. “He’s the married one, so why does he try to make me feel guilty?”

Honey poured herself a glass of bubbly and settled down comfortably on her favorite sofa. “These guys think they own us, that’s what,” she opined. “And when they find out they don’t it’s a rude awakening.”

Jacquetta tossed her coat over the wing chair, dropped purse and keys on the floor and sat down with a sigh.

“Speaking of which, I thought you were going out with Barney.”

“He was in a mood! Told me my roots were showing so I said I guess I needed alone time! You haven’t eaten, then?”

“Not so much as a peanut.”
“We could heat your mother’s quiche.”
“Or eat it cold,” Jacquetta agreed, suddenly hungry. They decamped to the kitchen where Honey, who would make some lucky man an excellent wife, briskly threw a salad together.

It was a lovely apartment. Honey loved furniture and was constantly working double shifts at The Royal Mess to afford some escritoire or tallboy. Jacquetta, by contrast, had few possessions.

“I met the most interesting old lady on the train,” offered Jacquetta. Beatrix Rainbeaux of the glassworks family. She had an off-hour ticket so I paid the difference to keep her from murdering the conductor, and we fell into conversation.”

“That’s disgusting!” swore Honey, tossing salad energetically. “She could buy and sell you. Her family owns that whole town!”

“She invited me to lunch tomorrow to consult me about evil,” Jacquetta returned, “so it was a worthwhile investment. Paid off a lot faster than most investments do.”

“Maybe she’ll remember you in her will,” said Honey. ”You know, like Howard Hughes, dressing like a bum and cadging rides from strangers.”

“Howard Hughes died intestate.” Jacquetta corrected. “That will was a forgery.”

“Just goes to prove what I always say; rich people are crazy. What kind of evil is she interested in?”

They sat at the table and attacked their meals. Jacquetta considered. It was funny how “unforgettable things” were so easy to forget! What had Beatrix said exactly?

“She met a sociopath she’s afraid of,” she said finally. “I think that’s what she said. And she wanted my advice.”

“Sister Jacquetta, the expert!” teased Honey. “Too bad those silly Catholics say you can’t be a woman priest so you can forgive her all her sins!”