Free Death by Killer Mop Doll (An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery) by Lois Winston Page A

break free, throwing her head back and letting loose a blood-curdling scream that echoed off the walls. Within seconds the doorway was crammed with the curious.
    “What’s going on?” asked Sheri, pushing her way through the jaw-gaping crowd. But before anyone could answer, she saw for herself. “Ohmigod! Is he …?”
    “What do you think?” answered Vince.
    “As a doorknob,” said Monica. She wrinkled her nose at Lou’s prostrate body.
    “Ever seen a live doorknob?” asked Vince.
    Sheri glared in disgust at the two of them. “The man was murdered. How can the two of you make jokes?”
    Vince raised his eyebrows and offered us a smile that was more sardonic than apologetic. Then he placed his hand on the small of Monica’s back and elbowed the two of them out of the storeroom.
    Sheri stared after them for a moment before whipping out her cell phone and punching in 911. In a voice choked with tears she reported the homicide.
    The finger-pointing began before the police arrived. While Lou’s corpse lay in state in the storeroom, accusatory whispers assailed every corner of the studio, the hallways, and the reception area. No techie, clerk, or gopher was without a theory, and none was too shy to voice them.
    “Had to be Alto.”
    “My money’s on Monica.”
    “Could be one of them editors. Hell, I’d probably kill, too, if someone forced me to work without pay.”
    “What about Ray? He’s always accusing Lou of boinking Monica.”
    “Ray’s certifiable. He accuses everyone of getting it on with Monica.”
    “I heard Sheri really ripped a new hole into Lou the other day.”
    “Can’t say as I blame her. Seems like Lou dumped his common sense overboard on that boat trip. What do you think he saw in that harebrained dimwit he took up with?”
    “Beats me but at least with Lou gone to the great TV studio in the sky, we won’t have to put up with that old bat and her silk damask demands.”
    “Maybe she killed him.”
    “If she did, she’s dumber than I thought. Rumor has it Lou was loaded. A smart broad would’ve waited until after the I do ’s.”
    I could understand people suspecting Monica, Vince, and Sheri. I could even conceive of them darting suspicious glances at the American Woman editors. But Mama? I hurried back to where I had parked her on a couch in Lou’s office.
    I found her staring glassy-eyed at her engagement ring as tears streamed down her cheeks and plopped onto the skirt of her nubby linen Pierre Cardin suit. “Mama, I want you to take this.” I sat next to her and handed her a glass of water and a Xanax I’d coaxed from Naomi. One dose wouldn’t turn Mama into a happy pill junkie, but it might calm her enough to get her through the police interview.
    She took the pill without question. After a few sips of water she heaved a deep sigh and turned to me. “Everything’s ruined, Anastasia. For me. For you. The boys. Lou was the answer to our prayers.”
She hiccupped a sob. “A man to take care of us. No more money worries.”
    “Are you telling me you planned to marry Lou for his money? That you didn’t love him?”
    “I was doing it for us, dear. Lou had more money than he knew what to do with. What’s so wrong with helping him spread the wealth a bit? And I was fond of him. Besides, look where marrying for love has gotten me? Five dead husbands and hardly two nickels to rub together. I thought I’d try something different this time around.” She heaved another sigh, held her hand at arm’s length, and inspected the Cleveland-sized chunk of ice on her third finger. “Do you think Tiffany’s will give me a refund on my ring?”
    Great. Mama, the Queen of Romance, had become Goldie the gold digger in her dotage.
    The police kept us for hours as two homicide detectives questioned all of us one at a time. I don’t know what Mama told them when it was her turn, but she was with them a good deal longer than anyone else. And when they escorted her from the office