Design on a Crime (11 page)

He could be telling the truth. Then again, this could be the
smoke screen he and his lawyer had cooked up. "I reserve
the right to doubt you, if you don't mind."

"That's what the masses in Seattle decided to do."

I'd hit the nail on the head. He felt he'd been treated unfairly
because of what someone else had done. Hmm ... sounded
familiar. I could wind up paying for someone else's crime if
things didn't go my way.

"You have a valid point." I resumed my walk toward
my car. "But you still haven't said what you were doing at
Marge's house."

He gave me a sideways look. "You still see it as Marge's
house?"

"Of course it's Marge's house. Whose would it be? Steve
can't even pay taxes on the place with his teacher's salary."

"Has it occurred to you that, as Marge's heir, the house will
be yours as soon as it clears probate?" Green eyes raked me.
"Either you're really, really good, or you're innocent."

My ears buzzed. I felt dizzy. I swayed, then fought to regain
control. I couldn't let him see how he'd affected me. "That house hasn't crossed my mind, not for one single moment.
So that makes me really good at what?"

"At deflecting suspicion."

"So we're back to your stupid accusation. Maybe it's obsession. I told you once, and I'll tell you again: I didn't kill
Marge."

I didn't know whether his eyes were icy or fiery green, but
I did know they gave me the willies.

He finally said, "You could be telling the truth, but as I
said, you could also be a very, very good actress."

"Okay. This chat's over."

I ran to my Honda and started it up.

To my right, Dutch got into a dented blue pickup. Then he
just sat, his green eyes boring holes in me. To get away from
that stare, I pulled out of my parking spot and into traffic.

He followed.

I hurried home. The eau de ripe refuse was getting to me.
The thought of a long, sudsy shower exerted a powerful pull.
But no matter how fast I drove or how many off-the-wall
turns I took, Dutch stuck to my rear bumper like lint to cheap
upholstery.

When I pulled into the driveway, he did the same. His truck
blocked the sidewalk. Now I was mad.

I marched up to the crummy truck. "What do you think
you're doing, you lunatic? It's against the law to park your
tank in the path of pedestrians. Get it out of here."

He stepped down from the cab.

I slammed my fists on my hips, and my backpack purse
banged my right knee. "Okay. So why don't you tell me what
you really want?"

"I want you to confess so the cops can lock you up and I
can get on with my life."

I refused to dignify that with an answer. I headed for the
porch.

"You know," he said, "it'd go easier on you if you did
confess. I'm sure you could plea-bargain your way out of the
death penalty-maybe they'd go for life without parole."

I didn't pause. But at that point, my lousy luck took another turn downward. A familiar gray streak flew at me and
latched on to the hem of my trash-slimed pants. Bali Hai
had an unrivaled reputation for dumpster diving. I guess I
smelled enough like a dumpster for her to ignore the small
differences between a huge metal receptacle and me.

"Bella!" I hollered. She lived across the street and one
house over from the manse. At this time of day, she liked
to have a cup of tea in her too-busy living room, and since
her windows were wide open, I was pretty sure she could
hear me. "Come get your demented cat before I call animal
control."

No matter which way I turned my ankle, the miserable
feline hung on for dear life. I was careful not to hurt her, but
I also had to look out for my own tender skin.

I remembered Dutch. "Don't just stand there-do something!"

Only then did I hear his laugh. Ducky. Just peachy dandy.
Every woman should aspire to make a suspicious madman's
day more fun.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked between barks
of mirth.

"You can quit yucking and take this creature off me."

He laughed some more. "Hey, I told you I have a healthy
sense of self-preservation. I'm not messing with that cat. It
seems to have found its bliss."

"Oh dear," Bella cried from across the street. "Bali H'ai,
you naughty girl. How'd you get out?"

She couldn't be serious. "Bella. Your windows are wide
open, and half of them don't have screens. What do think a
cat's going to do? Just sit there and swish her tail?"

Bella trotted over. "That's just what she does."

Bali H'ai wrestled my pant leg. The mega rats at Marge's
wouldn't have stood a chance with her. "No way. She goes
AWOL all the time. How many times have the neighbors
complained about their overturned trash?"

"That isn't my baby." Bella squatted by my embattled foot.
"She's too delicate for such behavior-" She wrinkled her
pink nose. "Haley!"

Yeah, yeah. And Bali H'ai is sensitive. "You were saying?
Your cat made a beeline for me the minute she got a whiff of
this. And I'm pretty disgusting right about now."

Dutch howled.

I glared. "Come on, guys. Have mercy. Not only am I
swathed in slop, but I also stink and am sticky, and this cat's
ripping my pants."

Bella backed away, her hand over her nose. "I can't stand
the smell. What have you been up to?"

Dutch smirked. "She went snoo-"

"I had an accident!" It was rude to interrupt, but Bella
didn't need more ideas. "I ... um... tripped over some trash.
Now please take the cat so I can clean up. Please."

Something in my tone must have penetrated Dutch's mirth,
because he bent and took hold of Bali H'ai's middle.

"Haley?" Dad called from the front porch. "Are you
okay?"

Then everything went to the dogs-literally. Midas ran out
and spotted Bali H'ai. He barked for the sheer joy of finding
a cat on his front lawn. In his opinion, as we'd learned in the
past, that made the cat fair game.

He barreled toward Bali H'ai. The builder got in his way.

Dutch fell.

Bali H'ai yowled, puffed up like a soft porcupine, and shot
away in a blur of gray.

I made for the porch. "Come on, Midas."

Unfortunately, Midas was out for fresh cat. He took off
after Bella's monster, his leash trailing in his wake.

Bali H'ai crossed the street.

Midas followed.

A car turned the corner.

"No!" I screamed, frozen by panic.

As fast as Bali H'ai had fled, Dutch ran after my dog and
planted his big sneakered foot on the leather leash. Midas
jerked to a stop inches from the fender.

Suddenly silence.

No more cat yowls.

No more barks.

No more squealing tires.

"You seem to have a knack for strange incidents, Ms.
Farrell."

I hadn't noticed Detective Tsu's arrival, but I couldn't miss
her now. She stood a mere ten feet away.

I sighed. "And you're here to make this one even more so,
right?"

"That depends on your answer to my question."

"Hmm ... was I clairvoyant or what?"

Her perfectly curved eyebrow rose. "About ... ?"

"I predicted you'd have more questions for me, didn't
I?"

"It's my job, and I'm good at it."

I dropped my backpack purse, crossed my arms, and came
near. I chuckled when she tried not to grimace. My horrific
stench struck again. Maybe it would shorten the inquisition.
"Ask away."

"Here?" She looked from Dad to Dutch, who held Midas's
leash and with his free hand scratched a doggy ear, and then
to Bella.

I shrugged. "I told you I'm innocent. I have nothing to
hide."

The detective unzipped her fancy handbag and pulled out
her notebook and silver pen. "Where would Marge Norwalk's
Rolodex be?"

Marge's business relied on the industrial-sized address
thingy. "Last I saw it, it sat on her desk at the warehouse. Is
it missing?"

"My question makes that quite clear."

"Well, I don't know where else it could be."

"Did you take it?"

"Why would I?"

"Because you might want to cull potential clients."

"I wouldn't need to take the thing. Marge had begun to
refer me."

Detective Tsu tapped the notebook with her pen. "Any idea
who else might have an interest in those addresses?"

"Not really, but I suppose a rival auctioneer might want
to lure her regulars."

"That's always possible."

"I assume you think it has something to do with the
murder."

"The timing's certainly interesting."

"Are you sure it disappeared after Marge died?"

"According to Mr. Krieger, it was there the day of the sale.
Two days later when he went to contact absentee bidders, it
was gone."

Ozzie. Again. I took a step closer. "Has it occurred to you,
while you try to pin a murder on me I didn't commit, that
Ozzie could be the killer?"

The detective drew in a sharp breath and wrinkled her
nose.

She said, "I'm not trying to pin anything on you, and I'm
a thorough investigator. I follow every lead. Unfortunately,
the evidence leads back to you."

"Then get busy and find new leads. You're wrong about
me."

"I'll do what I have to do. When I'm done, I'll have the
killer."

"Again," I insisted, "you should look at people who might
have wanted Marge dead. Like her husband and Ozzie
Krieger." And Noreen, but I wasn't ready to tell Ms. Tsu that
just yet.

"We've checked on them, and I can assure you, we were
thorough. We now need the Rolodex. If you should remember seeing it elsewhere ..." Her eyes did that laser thing of hers.
I didn't squirm.

She went on. "If you remember anything, don't hesitate
to call."

Who would? "If I find anything that'll prove you wrong,
believe me, I won't wait to tell you who, what, when, where,
why, and how."

Like the last time, her laughter surprised me. "I'll just bet
you won't, Ms. Farrell. Have a good afternoon." She followed
her words with a look that swept me head to toe. "You might
want to do something about the salad. It makes a fashion
statement, but it's not you."

Against my better judgment, I laughed. "You know? Maybe
Tyler was right. You might not be so bad after all."

The detective smiled. She stowed her notebook and pen
in her bag, then paused to rub Midas behind his right ear.
The turncoat dropped and rolled onto his back. She knelt at
his side, tickled his belly, and chuckled when his rear left leg
waved rhythmically.

"I should get a new dog," she said when she stood. "Please
let me know if you hear of pups from his stock. He's a great
guy„

I watched her drive away, not sure what to make of the
enigmatic detective. Was she investigating as thoroughly as
she said? Or was she doing the rush-to-judgment thing the
media said happened so much?

I didn't have long to ponder the question. Dutch held
out Midas's leash. "He is a great dog. Even though his
owner leaves something to be desired in the law-abiding
department."

"Hey! I'm innocent until proven guilty, and I won't beproven guilty, that is-because I didn't kill Marge."

"The lead detective seems pretty suspicious."

What was it with these people and their knifelike stares? I
turned away. "How do I know you're not accusing me because,
for some pea-brained reason, you decided to kill Marge?"

"Give me a break. I didn't even know the woman. Besides,
I need that money-pit house to sell-to Noreen, in particular.
Now I'm stuck waiting until the cops let the sale go ahead.
I'm the last guy who'd want to kill the auctioneer."

Dad had obviously had enough. "I normally espouse hospitality, but I have to ask you to leave. You have no idea how
absurd your accusation is. My daughter loved Marge like a
mother, and she would never have harmed her. Now, Haley
needs a bath-"

"She does," Dutch said. 'And I'll leave, but I have a stake in
this investigation. I'm not about to let anyone ruin my chance
to get back on my feet. Not your daughter nor anyone else."

"I heard your first threat," I muttered on my way to the
porch. "You didn't scare me then, and you don't scare me
now. I have nothing to worry about."

Sure, I didn't. I wouldn't be the first innocent to wind up
in jail. But I wasn't going to give an inch. Not to him.

I'd talk to Steve tomorrow, Noreen or no Noreen.

I arrived at the ritzy Carleton-Higgins Academy at 11:50.
Summer school ran only in the morning, as I'd learned when
I'd phoned the school's office under false pretenses earlier that
morning. Sort of. I did want to deliver something, a bunch of
questions to a guy who now made my stomach turn.

Steve had been cheating on Marge, and with Noreen, no
less. The entire sexual scenario made me sick, and I knew
it'd be hard to face the man who'd treated my mentor so
shabbily.

What about Noreen? Was she involved with Dutch too?
How could I work for her now that I knew what she'd been up
to behind Marge's back? What she-the other woman-might
have done to Steve's wife.

But I couldn't think about that yet. I had to focus. I had to
find out if Steve had really been out of town the day Marge
died. I had to find out how badly Steve had wanted Noreen
... enough to kill?

When kids spilled out the sleek glass doors of the expensive school building, I stepped out of my car and stood in
the shade of a tall tree. I wasn't known for my patience, but
this mattered. It mattered a lot, so I made myself wait until
the suave blond that Marge had married two years ago, to
all her friends' shock, came out.

"Steve!"

He turned. "Haley. I'm surprised to see you. Did you need
me?"

I saw him differently now. Yes, he was GQ handsome, but
almost too much so. He styled his hair to perfection-a strike
against him in the eyes of someone with imperfect hair. I
shoved a wild bunch behind my ear.