High Heels Are Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

woman who smelled of mothballs and played the TV too loud lived in the downstairs apartment, but they couldn’t complain about the noise because she paid the rent on time. Josie’s mother cried every night, when she thought Josie was asleep. Josie’s dad had moved to Chicago with his new wife. He never called, not even on her birthday.
    Cheryl was seven, just like Josie. She lived in the biggest house in the new neighborhood. It was a three-story redbrick with a white wraparound porch. Josie knew that Cheryl was one of the cool kids. Even after a day at school, Cheryl’s ruffled pink blouse was unwrinkled. Her white-blond hair was straight as a model’s in
Seventeen
.
    Josie’s plain brown hair stuck out in six directions, hershirttail had slid out of her pants, and her socks had rolled down into her shoes. She pulled them up and walked across the lawn to greet Cheryl.
    “Hi, I’m your new neighbor, Josie Marcus.” She stuck out her hand, the way Jane had taught her.
    “So?” Cheryl said. She stared at Josie’s hand until it seemed small and shriveled. Then Cheryl turned her back and slammed her front door. Their relationship went downhill from there.
    Jane never understood why Josie couldn’t make friends with nice Cheryl Mueller next door. “She’d be such a good influence,” her mother would say, and launch into yet another Perfect Cheryl Report.
    Josie learned not to complain. “You’re jealous,” her mother would say. Josie knew it was true. But that didn’t stop her from praying that Cheryl would stop being perfect, just for a moment. Please, God, let Cheryl get yelled at by a teacher, get a zit, have a bad-hair day.
    It never happened.
    In grade school, Cheryl was a Girl Scout who collected a sash full of merit badges. Josie collected detentions and time-outs.
    In high school, both were honor students, but Cheryl was class valedictorian with a perfect 4.0. She was also head of the Drama Club, editor of the school paper and had the lead in the school musical. She was a cheerleader, when girls still thought it was an honor to root for the boys. Josie played soccer in the days before young women got big scholarship money for sports.
    Worse, Cheryl had real breasts when Josie was still stuffing socks in her bra.
    Both went to the prom. Cheryl was prom queen and wore a shimmering blue strapless gown that made her look like a starlet. Josie wore black and looked like a streetwalker.
    In college Cheryl was elected to the student council. Josie won the intramural beer-drinking contest, women’s division. The Party Hearty loving cup was not displayed on her mother’s mantel.
    Cheryl got engaged about the same time that Josie got pregnant. Josie knew it wasn’t the baby that madeher throw up every morning. Her nausea was caused by listening to the details of Cheryl’s wedding. Just the mention of Alençon lace still made her queasy.
    Now Josie braced herself for yet another Perfect Cheryl Report. She knew it would ruin a perfectly good corn-bread-and-chili supper. She secretly hoped Amelia would interrupt the report, even though Josie had told her daughter a thousand times that was rude. But Amelia was busy crumbling crackers and mixing them into her chili. The one time Josie wanted the kid to misbehave, Amelia wouldn’t.
    “Cheryl brought her mother a lovely bouquet of star-gazer lilies,” Jane said. “Lilies are so rich-looking, don’t you think?”
    Josie stuffed her mouth with corn bread so she couldn’t answer. Jane didn’t seem to expect her to.
    “Cheryl baked her mother an English tea cake from a special low-fat, low-carb recipe. It was absolutely delicious. You’d never guess it had eighty-eight calories per slice. Cheryl offered to give you the recipe, but I said it was a waste of time. You can’t cook like Cheryl.”
    Josie gulped her chili, which she’d made herself. This dinner was going to give her heartburn.
    “It was so nice of her to invite me, too. We had real leaf tea,”