Design on a Crime (8 page)

Bella's smile went south. "Oh. Well, it was a good idea."

"Why don't we close in prayer?" Gussie asked, her smile
full of sympathy for me. "I'll take the lead today, ladies."

I hadn't foreseen this, and if Tyler's prayers had made me
uncomfortable, Gussie's sincere thanks and praise made me
feel like the worst kind of heel. How had I let a cotton-fluff
bully rope me into this goofy presidency?

With the silk and satin lasso of her kindness and friendship
is how. Gussie is awesome.

When she'd finished, Gussie rolled her wheelchair to my side.
"Why don't you and your dad come over for supper tonight?
That way you can look at the rooms and take measurements,
and we can talk colors and furniture."

"Sounds good. What time would you like us?"

"Hey!" Bella cried. "I thought I was coming for dinner."

Gussie reached out and patted her friend's plump hand.
"Of course you are. I just figured the more the merrier."

'All right," Bella said, her million-dollar smile as potent as
ever. "Maybe we can talk Haley into some sleuthing while
we're at it."

"We'll do no such thing," Gussie countered. "It's a better idea if we join in prayer and ask the Lord to watch over
everyone involved."

Another trap I hadn't foreseen.

Oh well. I was committed now, and I really did need the
job. I'd just have to find a way to escape the prayer stuff.

Later that afternoon as I packed my paint chips, my tape
measure, and my camera, Midas went into a barking frenzy.
I went downstairs, even though I hadn't heard the doorbell
over his greeting. He was better than a burglar alarm. Unfortunately, he was a lousy guard dog. All he wanted was to
play with the new arrival.

Through the front window, I saw the police cruiser in the
driveway. No one sat inside today, so whoever drove it was
already at the door.

"Detective Tsu," I said a moment later. "You mean you still
have more questions?"

"Of course, but that's not why I'm here. Yesterday at the
dojo you asked if I had any news. I received the autopsy report
late last night, and it will be made public today. I've come as
a courtesy to let you know the results."

"Thank goodness! For a while there, I was afraid you guys
were going to pin the crime on me just because I somehow
touched the rock that killed Marge. My hand probably landed
on it when I fainted."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm afraid that's not the case, Ms.
Farrell. The autopsy came back with no additional cause for
Mrs. Norwalk's death. She died from the blow to the back of
her head. And the rock had bits of brain material on it."

My gag reflex kicked in. I fisted my hands at my sides. I
counted my breaths ... long, measured, controlled. "I suppose your visit also means they found no other fingerprints
on the stone."

She gave me a slow nod.

A chill ran through me. "You have considered the possibility of a gloved killer, haven't you?"

The cop shrugged.

"Look, Ms. Tsu, do you really think I'd be so stupid as to
draw attention to Marge's body if I'd killed her? Do you think
I'd have stayed around after I'd done it?"

"I've spent ten years on the force, Ms. Farrell. I've learned
that anything's possible, and even more so, likely."

"Well, I didn't kill Marge. And you'd better do a better job
of finding the person who did, because I'm not going to sit
around and let you hang it on me."

There. I'd told her what I'd said to Tyler the day before.
Why didn't I feel any better?

Maybe Ms. Tsu's non-response had something to do with
it.

Midas pranced up to the detective and slurped her arm with a
sloppy, doggy kiss. Benedict Arnold had nothing on my dog.

A smile-a real one-brightened the cop's face. She really
is a beautiful woman, and evidently, a dog lover too. Too
bad she's such a lousy detective. Abetter one would know I
couldn't have hurt Marge, or anyone else, for that matter.

"You're a big, beautiful boy, aren't you?" Ms. Tsu said.

Midas's bliss knew no bounds when she scratched the
sweet spot behind his left ear. His tail thwacked the door
frame in a jackhammer beat.

"How old is he?"

"He turned four in March."

Ms. Tsu murmured more sweet nothings in my turncoat
dog's ear. "Mine died last November. I still miss her."

"You had a golden?"

The detective arched a brow. "You know, Ms. Farrell, cops
are people too."

I blushed hot and hard.

She went on. "My job's not easy, and I don't get many
thanks. Just remember, I didn't have to come and tell you
anything. I just did what I would have wanted had I been in
your shoes."

I sighed. "There's no excuse for my rudeness. I'm sorry.
The last two days have been tough. I appreciate your consideration, even though I can assure you you're on the wrong
track. I didn't kill Marge Norwalk, and I'm afraid you're
wasting precious time on me while evidence ... clues ...
whatever gets damaged."

"I'm very good at what I do," she countered.

I thought back to yesterday's Tai Chi lesson. The woman
had exceptional concentration, and her controlled movements
revealed a great deal of strength.

I forced a smile. "No doubt you are. Was there anything
else?"

"You do realize you can't leave town without police approval, don't you?"

"I hadn't given it a thought. First, I have no plans to
go anywhere, and second, I have no reason to think that
way."

"We shall see, Ms. Farrell. We shall see."

As she went toward the patrol car, I called out, "I'll bet
you're one of Tyler's teacher's-pet black belts."

She turned, and her eyes zeroed in on mine. Then she
laughed. "I could get to like you. And I think Tyler meant
it as a warning when he told me that after yesterday's class.
He knows I'd have a hard time arresting a potential friend.
Let's hope his faith in you isn't misplaced."

My jaw nearly hit the floor.

There was no reading this woman. But I didn't need a
novel to learn how much trouble I was in. I had to talk to
Tyler about Detective Tsu.

I savored another bit of dinner. "Gussie, the turkey tenderloins are incredible. You're the best cook I know."

"That's why I worm an invitation out of her every chance
I get," Bella said, her plate piled high with turkey, broccoli
and carrot salad, and rice pilaf. "It's a blessing she's also the
most generous person I know."

Tom gave his wife a tender look. "I'm the luckiest man
around."

Gussie looked down. "Thanks. You're too flattering."

To help the woman who'd bailed me out that morning,
I said, "Tell me what exactly you and Tom want to change
in these two rooms. I've rarely seen a home as nice or as
charming as yours."

"It is nice," Gussie answered, "but after all these years, the
upholstery shows a lot of wear, and I'm pretty tired of the
same things day in and day out. I'd love to have something
new and fresh to look forward to every morning."

Uninvited, the words of one of my mother's favorite hymns trickled through my mind. It spoke about God's mercies and
how they were new every morning. I sighed. It'd been a long
time since I'd last felt those mercies. Marge's murder didn't
seem to fit in with them either.

Determined to stay focused, I looked around the room and
asked, "Does this layout work with your wheelchair?"

"The dining room's fine," Gussie answered. "But the living
room feels like a minefield. I don't think lining the furniture
up against the walls was the answer."

I groaned. "That's my number one pet peeve."

"Hey, I have the solution to that problem," Bella said. "The
best way to watch my new large-screen TV is in bed, so I
went down to the store and bought myself a couple of mattresses. I had a friend nail together a platform in the middle
of the room so we could plunk the mattresses on it, and then
I bought some funky faux-fur stuff to cover the whole thing.
Now I have perfect living room furniture. Everyone can lie
down and still have the best seat in the house."

The idea made my teeth hurt.

Dad scratched his chin and gave a thoughtful, "Hmm..."
He then added, "It sounds quite sybaritic, Bella. Somewhat
along the Greco-Roman Empire line."

"Nope, Pastor Hale. I bought the mattresses new. I'm sure
they've nothing to do with parasites. I know all about parasites. My vet told me all about them when Bali H'ai had that
urping problem. It turned out to be hairballs."

Every time Bella mentioned her noxious long-haired cat, I
fought my laughter. Anyone who asked about the name got
the standard answer. "Ever see South Pacific? Bali H'ai's exotic,
isn't it? Well, so 's she."

Since I couldn't stand the thought of sitting in on Dad's
lecture on Sybaris, the Greeks, the Romans, the fall of the
various empires, and Bella's beast, I rooted through my backpack purse until I felt the camera.

"I'm going to take pictures so I know what we have to work
with," I told Gussie. "That way I won't have to rely on my memory or bug you every time I want to check on something."

Gussie waved me toward the living room. "Do you mind
if I follow? I've never had an interior designer do a room for
me, and I'm curious to see how you do what you do. I'm a
little excited too."

Glad for the chance to entertain Gussie, I grabbed the
wheelchair handles and guided her toward the living room.
"I'd never do a thing without your input. A good designer
only interprets what the client likes and wants."

"Oh, we're going to have so much fun!"

Behind us, a chair scraped the floor. "Hey, wait for me!"
Bella cried. "I want in on the fun too. Besides, I brought Haley
a present."

I paused. "A present?"

Bella nodded her shaggy pink head. "Wait'll you get a load
of this. It's the best on the market."

Uh-oh.

"See?" Bella asked, a small silver canister in her hand.
'After Penny told us a bunch of stupid lies about you, the
cops, and the murder, I got to thinking that you could find
yourself in a barrel of trouble. I had to make sure you could
protect yourself against the killer."

Gussie pressed the control button for the wheelchair motor
and rolled to Bella's side. "That was a nice gesture, Bella, whatever that is. But Haley can take excellent care of herself.
She's a martial arts expert."

"Really?" Bella's cup of excitement did indeed runneth
over. "Can you show me how to break a stack of bricks with
one chop?"

"Um ... it takes a lot of practice to do something like that,
and I'm not a teacher."

Bella considered my words. She shrugged. "Eh. True
enough. How about you show me how to kick some jerk
in the chin, then? I'm an old lady, and I don't want a purse
snatcher to get away with my stuff."

Somehow, the image of roly-poly Bella kickboxing failed
to gel. How do I get myself into this kind of mess all the
time? "That's another thing you'd be better off learning
from a real teacher. I'll give you the number for Tyler Colby's dojo, and he can teach you any martial arts move you
want to learn."

"Dough-joe, dough-joe! Is that cool or what?"

I'd never seen Bella so animated. I had a funny feeling
she'd swap bike shorts for a gi before too long.

'Anyway," she said after a few more rounds of the mangled
chant, "here's your super-duper, giant-sized, extra-strength
can of mace. The boy behind the counter said it was the best
kind. He even showed me how to use it."

Gussie looked at me just as I looked at her. Bella with a can
of mace was scary.

I held out a hand. "I'll take it, Bella. And thank you for
thinking of me."

"You're welcome, honey. But you gotta let me help when
you go sniff out the killer."

"I already said I'm not doing anything like that."

As if she hadn't heard me, and maybe she hadn't, since
she was riveted by the can of mace, Bella added, "Here. Let
me show you how easy this is."

"That's all right, I can read the instructions-"

"See the little thingy here? That's the trigger. But you have
to be very careful. It's mega-sensitive."

At that moment a gray streak flew across the room. It gave
an inhuman shriek before it landed at Bella's feet. Startled,
she tottered and nearly trampled her maniacal cat.

"Bali H'ai, you naughty girl. Why'd you leave your little
bag-house? I told you I'd give you liver treats if you waited
for me in there."

The cat puffed up and nipped Bella's ankle.

I couldn't blame Bali H'ai. If Bella offered me liver in exchange for good behavior, I might decide to bite her too.

But that feline nibble had its consequences.

That mega-sensitive button on the canister?

It was sensitive, all right. Lucky for us, Bella either was
given the wrong thing or had gotten confused. It wasn't mace
she sprayed. She got us with pepper spray instead.

The burn of a red-hot steel rod ground into my eyes.