Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) (27 page)

“Here. Take one.” Sam offered a croissant she had just taken out of the oven. “The bag’s almost empty. We might as well have them the next few days. Don’t want them to go to waste.”

I smiled. “No, God forbid we should do that. So where are we going first?”

“There’s a castle with a torture chamber in the town of Beersel. Michael really wants to see it.”

“Probably reminds him of his dental chair. He’s probably homesick and needs to see something familiar.”

Sam smiled and grabbed my plate. “Come on. The guys are ready to leave.”

After looking at rooms full of implements of torture and reading the gruesome description accompanying each device, I couldn’t take any more and went to sit outside. Sam joined me after a few minutes saying she too felt ill looking at all of it.

After the castle, we drove down country streets looking at scenery and taking pictures. John and I leaned against the car while Sam hopped over a small fence and went to pick some wildflowers.

I watched my sister. “We’ve almost made it out of the country without getting ourselves into any trouble and she’s probably going to be arrested for trespassing, or for breaking some wildflowers ordinance.”

“It’s almost time to go home.”

I turned and looked up at my husband. “I know, John. I can’t believe all this time has gone by. I’ll cherish this trip forever.”

“It’ll go down in history as the first honeymoon without a groom.”

“Don’t feel too badly. It hasn’t been bad, and we got to do almost everything we wanted. I feel very selfish saying I’ve had a terrific time with two murders having been committed, but I have.”

John folded his arms across his chest. “I’m afraid Gerard’s going to arrest Bill for Doug’s murder. I hope not, but at the very least, he has a lot to answer for.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt certain it would come to this after John told us what he and Gerard had discovered at the airport yesterday. I wondered if they would find evidence to tie Bill to Martine’s murder, too, or if he would just give himself up for that.

By late afternoon we were back at the apartment.

“I suggest we spend the next two days cleaning this place and packing,” I said.

“I think we’ll need the two days just for packing. Forget about cleaning,” Michael sighed. “Have you seen how much stuff this woman bought? What’s the weight limit on suitcases, anyway?”

“I’ll have you know very little of what I bought is for me,” Sam huffed. “Most of the stuff is for the kids and your mother.”

I watched the way my sister could lie with such ease and wondered if I’d ever be able to fool John. I knew for a fact besides all the lace and the diamond earrings, Sam had managed to buy herself a Burberry jacket in London, two wool sweaters on sale, and several needlepoint kits just in case she wanted to learn. Suddenly I had a great idea.

“You know, maybe we could ship some of it back. There’s information on sending off FedEx packages in the book of instructions the Smiths left for us.”

Sam looked hopeful when the buzzer in the pantry sounded.

“It’s Gerard,” John said a few seconds later. “He’s on his way up.”

“Sorry to interrupt your evening,” Gerard said a minute later as he settled himself on one of the sofas, “But I thought I should give you the news in person.”

“What news?” I asked, though I had a pretty good idea.

“This afternoon we have arrested Bill Westlake for the murder of Doug Parmelee.”

Sam and Michael were both upset by the news, and made the appropriate cries of protest.

I ignored them both. My eyes were on my husband who had just slumped in his chair.

Chapter 42

“John! Are you all right?” I hurried to his side.

John held up his hand to stop me but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to; the effect of his hand halting me was enough.

Sam and Michael stood there holding their breath. They had never seen John angry. Well, not like this. Sam glanced at me. I knew my face was a mixture of apprehension, shock, hurt, and a bit of anger, also. In all the time we had been together, John had never been abrupt with me like this. There was a deafening silence in the room. Even Gerard didn’t say a word. He just watched John.

John slowly lowered his hand. “Alex, I’m sorry.” He held out his hand again and I took it. “I knew this was coming. I told you this afternoon Bill was going to be arrested, but I just hoped somehow today you,” John looked up at Gerard, “might find some innocuous reason for Bill coming back to town on Friday night. Forgive me for doubting you.”

“I am truly sorry I have to give you this news of your friend. But, yes, we are certain or else we would not have made this arrest,” Gerard said and I could see the hurt in his eyes for I knew Gerard now considered John a good friend and didn’t want to cause him pain.

Sam and Michael cautiously took seats on the other sofa.

“So, Bill took a flight back on Friday evening and killed Doug,” John said.

“Are you sure,” I asked more for John’s sake than mine.

“We’ve checked with the hotel in Geneva and Monsieur Westlake did not stay in his room on Friday evening. We have found a hotel, very near the airport, which shows Monsieur Westlake as a guest on Friday evening. Checking in very late and very tense. Of course we have the records from the flight and the eye witnesses.” Gerard heaved a heavy sigh. “I am sorry, John, but you were with me yesterday.”

“Was Wanda involved?” I asked.

“No. Madam Westlake was not involved.”

“Did she know her husband was the killer?”

“I do not think so, Alex,” Gerard said.

John clasped his hands together. “Well, I’d like to talk with Bill if it’s allowed.”

“I’ll see what I can arrange.”

John rose slowly and walked out of the room. I heard him banging about in the kitchen. I started to go after him, but Gerard stopped me. “Let him be.”

Ten minutes later John walked in with a tray with four cups of coffee and a tea for me. “I thought we could all use something. Something stronger, probably, but I’d like to keep my wits about me.” He passed the cups around and returned to his chair across from Gerard. “Okay, what now?”

“We have his confession. But he’ll have a trial anyway. It is obligatory here. He’ll be sentenced, probably for life.”

“What about Wanda and the children?” I couldn’t keep the quiver out of my voice.

“I do not know,” Gerard sighed. “Her husband has left quite a mess with his business. Many debts. Fraud. Another charge that will be leveled against him. I’m sure she will have to sell the house. I can’t see her remaining in Belgium with no income.”

“So she’ll return to the U.S. and Bill will be here in prison?” I asked, trying to fathom the situation.

“Jesus. What a mess,” Sam said.

“I guess with two murder convictions and the fraud and probably tax evasion,” Michael said, “there’s no chance he’ll ever get out.”

“My, God. He killed two people,” I said.

“No.” Gerard shook his head. “Monsieur Westlake killed Monsieur Parmelee. Of this we are certain. But he did not kill Martine Cassé.”

Chapter 43

“What do you mean, he didn’t kill Martine? I thought—”

“Didn’t he kill both of them because they figured out he was fiddling the figures?” Sam asked finishing my thought.

“No. We do not believe he killed Madam Cassé. We have asked him, of course, and he denies it.”

“And you believe him?” John asked.

“Madam Cassé may have been killed for something connecting her with Bill and Doug, but I don’t think so. I think our original theory still stands in her case.”

“Are you saying you still believe Paul is responsible?” I asked. “I thought we ruled him out.”

Gerard smiled at me, “Alex, I believe
your
investigation has excluded him.”

I felt my face redden. “Well, I wasn’t exactly investigating….”

“Yes we were,” my sister, the traitor, said.

“It’s okay,” Gerard said flashing his toothy grin again. “As a matter of fact, Monsieur Cassé is not a suspect. Perhaps we should look into him more closely, but my instincts tell me he did not kill his wife. Now, it is my turn to be sorry. I must admit I do not know who killed Madam Cassé.”

“Surely Donna must be on your list,” Sam said.

“
Bien sûr
! It is entirely possible she killed her husband’s lover and not her husband. It happens all the time.”

“Well, what about Wanda? She could have killed Martine for the same reason Bill killed Doug. Maybe they were in on it together. One kills one, the other kills the other. That would throw suspicion off, right?” I asked.

“It is of course a possibility. But one I am not too sure of. We are also looking at Madam Tillingsworth.”

“Really?” I asked. “I mean, I think she should be up near the top of the list, but I didn’t think the police put much into that theory.”

“I stopped by Paul’s apartment Tuesday evening. The police had in our possession a number of things belonging to Madam Cassé which we needed to return. Jane Tillingsworth was there when we arrived.”

“Aha! So she did go running to him after the funeral,” I said. “I knew she would.”

“Yes. She was there. She left shortly after we arrived. Monsieur Cassé looked very pleased to be rid of her. It seems she got it into her head Monsieur Cassé may be relocating to America and she wanted to confront him.” Gerard’s eyes danced with amusement.

“Yes, well, I may have mentioned something like that.” I gave Sam a sheepish look.

“I believe Monsieur Cassé when he says he wants nothing to do with the woman. She, on the other hand, wants everything to do with him. It would not be the first time in all of history a woman has killed the person she believes as her rival.”

“I’d like to see Bill,” John said again, changing the subject.

“I believe it can be arranged. Would tomorrow morning be all right?” Gerard asked.

“Yes. That would be fine.”

We walked Gerard to the door and John said he would walk downstairs with him. A few minutes later John buzzed the intercom and told me he was going for a walk. I asked if he would like some company, but he said he wanted to be alone.

Sam and Michael went upstairs to start the arduous task of fitting all my sister’s purchases into their suitcases. I stayed downstairs watching something on the TV in Flemish and was astounded I picked up a few words.

I was dozing when I heard the front door open.

“John?”

“It’s me.” He came into the living room and sat on the edge of the sofa. “I acted like a jerk earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m sure it was a shock for you. It was a shock for me even though I knew it was coming and I don’t know Bill like you do.”

“Obviously I don’t know Bill like I thought I did, either. I can’t believe he would resort to murder. Why didn’t he talk to me? Talk to Wanda about his problems. Maybe if I wasn’t so wrapped up playing detective in a foreign land and spent a bit more time with Bill—”

“I don’t know, John, why he resorted to murder, but I do know you are
not
responsible. Not in the slightest. He didn’t seem interested in making time for you, either. He couldn’t even take off the first day when Wanda took us around. He could have joined us. At least for dinner,” I said. “Speaking of which, are you hungry? We never had dinner tonight.”

“Now that you mention it, yeah, I am a bit.”

We went into the kitchen and took the remains of several cheeses from the refrigerator and a loaf of bread I knew wouldn’t make it through the night. A saw would have been better than the knife I used to cut it. I poured us each a small glass of white wine, picked up two apples and took everything back to the living room.

“This is good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Where are the others?”

“Upstairs packing. They have a lot of stuff to squeeze into their bags.”

“Anxious to go home, Mrs. Van der Burg?”

“Yes. Despite everything that has happened, I’ve had a great time. But I want to get down to reality. To everyday life. To a new life.” I smiled at John. Bill being arrested made me want to get back to my family.

“Not sorry about the change of houses?”

“I was.”

“But not any more?” John asked as he broke off a hunk of bread, finding it was easier to break than to cut.

“No. Not any more. I’ve come to realize it doesn’t really matter where we live, does it? It sounds corny, but as long as we’re together, that’s what’s important.”

“Yes, it is.” He patted my hand before passing me another piece of bread.

“What do you think is going to happen to Wanda?” I asked.

John shook his head, his face sad. “I don’t know. It seems unlikely she’ll be able to stay here. I suspect she’ll go back to Ohio and live with her family. Get a job.”

“But Bill will be here. Will she ever see him again?”

“I don’t know.” John hunched his shoulders and put down the piece of cheese he had just sliced. “Ever since we arrived, it wasn’t the same but I got wrapped up in Martine and I told myself we’d have time later.” I realized he was talking about Bill not me. “But it never felt right and you know why? Because it never was right. Not now. Not when we were in school.” John paused to sip his wine.

I kept quiet and sliced another piece of Danish Blue.

“I was just this naïve guy and Bill was the life of the party. He was never what I made him out to be in my own mind.”

“Right. Like the cheerleader, the pretty one who’s elected homecoming queen and she’s always out of your reach. And then you see her at your fifteen or twenty-year reunion and she’s overweight with a double chin and sagging breasts and you wonder what happened to her. And she never was what you thought in the first place. It was just you. Shy and insecure and remaking the person in your own mind to be like you wished you could be.”

John nodded. “Something like that. I made Bill out to be this larger than life character. And in some ways I guess he was, but there were signs then, he always had a scam going. Always on the edge of getting kicked out. But always bouncing back right at the end. I just thought at the time it was all so glamorous. As long as I was with him, I was big guy on campus.”