Murder as a Second Language (24 page)

“Yeah, right. C'mon, Inez. Bikinis are still on sale at the mall.”

No one else felt the need to speak to me as they left. Gregory, Keiko, and Leslie went into their respective offices. Bartek winked at me, but I failed to notice. Duke waved. Students left in groups. It was a few minutes after one o'clock, so I packed up my notes and prepared to go meet Rick at Mucha Mocha. I didn't mind waiting as long as I found something to eat. I wished I'd had a chance to sample Caron's deviled eggs so I could gush with sincerity. I would never admit to Yelena that I hadn't savored every bite of her pickle.

I opened Keiko's door and told her I was leaving. She glanced up briefly, nodded, and returned her attention to her computer. Hunger prevented me from barging into Gregory's office to ask about Monday night. I could come back after I'd talked to Rick, although I was in a time crunch to shop and be home at four o'clock. I hadn't cared for Caron's casual reference to wild parties. Not under my watch, I vowed.

Mucha Mocha was calm. I took my lunch to the patio and sadly ate a ham sandwich instead of homemade food from across the planet. I love incendiary curry, cocktail wienies, doughnuts, and whatever else had been brought. I assessed all the information I'd heard from Rick, Austin, and, most interestingly, from Duke Kovac. I glanced at a frizzy-haired man clicking on his laptop. Why not? Brazen was not my middle name, but I was not above a polite disruption.

I sat down next to the man. “Hello,” I said. “I'm just so helpless when it comes to computers, and I'm hoping you can help me. I'll treat you to the pastry of your choice. Please?”

“Yeah, why not?”

I pulled out a paper. “I want to find out about a company with the word
swistak
as part of the name. It may be a European pharmaceutical company.” I spelled the word and gave him my most guileless smile. “This is so kind of you.”

“I was just browsing. Did you know there are two hundred and thirty-eight thousand breeding pairs of emperor penguins in Antarctica?”

“Fascinating,” I breathed. I wanted to poke him, but I only had a few minutes before Rick arrived. “The pharmaceutical company…?”

He abandoned his quest for penguin data and started clicking. “Okay, look.” He pointed at a line on the screen. “Bergmann-Swistak Pharmaceuticals, headquartered in Hamburg and makers of a long list of bizarre-sounding drugs.”

I took out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to him. “Enjoy your pastry.”

“I'm gluten-free, but I can use the money.”

I thanked him and went back to my table. Gregory's father had been a co-owner of Bergmann-Swistak Pharmaceuticals. At some time in the past, Gregory or his father had Anglicized the family name. Ludmila might have seen a photo of father and son and made the leap.

My new best friend sat down across from me. “I did a little more research,” he said. “Bergmann-Swistak went bankrupt ten years ago after a massive class-action suit. For decades they sold drugs that were diluted, mislabeled, and in some cases lethal. The government closed them down. It turned out the company's assets had vanished, as had the executives. The lawsuit hasn't been settled, and there are outstanding warrants.” He left before I could dig out another tip.

That was excellent motivation to change one's name. Ludmila had treasured an old photograph of a small child, perhaps a dear friend's grandchild. If the child had died because of a tainted drug, I could understand why Ludmila was so enraged whenever she saw Gregory. If he'd realized why, he would have known how much of a threat she posed. Her English was inadequate to expose him, but he couldn't be sure a new Polish student might not wander through the door of the Literacy Council. Ludmila would have a confidante, quite possibly one who remembered the Bergmann-Swistak scandal as well. On Monday night Ludmila had been waiting for Bartek to pick her up, giving Gregory the perfect opportunity.

I was tweaking my hypothesis when Rick joined me. “That was quite a production,” he said. “Who is that Russian woman, and what was she doing?”

“Her version of a eulogy. She was an actress in Moscow before she came here. Why don't you tell me about Sonya and Gregory?”

He stirred his coffee for a moment. “Since I joined the board, I've been sorting through receipts and bills in Gregory's office. It's been frustrating. If I find a manila envelope with credit card bills, it disappears the following evening. That means I have to dig through all the blasted boxes again.”

“Why don't you take them with you?”

“He'd accuse me of tampering with them. He knows I don't have any hard evidence.”

“You could call in the police department's forensic accountant, you know.”

Rick held up his hands. “The publicity would kill us whether I'm right or wrong. Who's going to give us grant money if there's any hint of embezzlement? We have to offer proof that we're using the money according to their specifications. That's a significant part of Gregory's job. We also have to send him to conferences to enhance our standing in the ESL community. Regrettably, this gives him a chance to double-bill his expenses. I know damn well he's comped for some hotel rooms and meals, but his credit card charges say otherwise. He then writes checks to reimburse himself.”

“What does this have to do with Sonya?”

“After the board meeting Thursday, I went into Gregory's office. I almost fell over when she marched in. When I told her that he was gone, she growled and went out to her car. On a whim, I followed her.” He caught my frown. “Hey, I don't fancy myself to be a private eye. I'm merely curious—just like you. She drove to his house. I saw them embrace in the doorway. “

“They're adults. As long as they aren't … behaving indecorously in his office when other people are around, I don't see why it's a big deal.”

“I've already told you that I don't like Sonya. She's a manipulator of the worst sort. From what I've heard from my younger colleagues, she frequents the bars on Thurber Street and rarely leaves alone. That's her business. The problem is I have a guilty conscience. Don't bother to ask—I'm not going to elaborate under any circumstances. I took her into Leslie's office Monday night to tell her that Gregory is an evil man.”

“Because he may be embezzling money from the Literacy Council?”

“No, because he's a murderer.”

 

13

I stared at him with what must have been a somewhat unattractive scowl. “Rick, you can't make an accusation like that if you don't have evidence!”

“Well, I just did. In any case, all I did Monday night was try to warn Sonya about him. She flipped me off. Having done my duty, I absolved myself from any future responsibility for her welfare. I need to get back to work.” He picked up his coffee mug and the torn packets. “I'll see you at the next board meeting. I hope you enjoy fireworks.”

He left me sitting in a daze. I wanted to chase after him and demand to hear the reason for his accusation, but I had a feeling it wouldn't do any good. He didn't know about Bergmann-Swistak Pharmaceuticals or he would have told me.

I had a little bit of time before I needed to buy supplies for Caron's party. I wanted to talk to Miss Parchester, but she would insist on tea and chatter. It might take a long time before I could take control of the conversation. I decided to try to corner Gregory in his office. I had no qualms about going after him as bluntly as necessary. I gave myself a few minutes to prioritize my questions and then drove back to the Literacy Council. As I came around the corner, I saw an ambulance in the parking lot. This was not good.

I parked on the street and walked to the door, reminding myself to breathe. Keiko was waiting inside, her hand plastered to her mouth and her eyes wide. “Thank goodness you came back, Claire. A most terrible thing has occurred. Miss Willie has suffered a great illness.”

“Is she…?” I couldn't say the word.

“They are taking her to the hospital. I don't know how bad it is.”

Gregory appeared. “Claire, good. Keiko, talk to the students before we have another riot. Tell them one of the board members is ill, that's all.” He gestured at me. “She's in one of the small classrooms that we don't use in the summer. She's unconscious but breathing.”

I followed him past the cubicles. Leslie was standing near the open doorway, her hands clasped tightly. Inside the paramedics were lifting Willie onto a gurney. She had an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, and her complexion was almost gray. Her arm looked pathetically thin where the IV needle was taped. We all stepped back as the paramedics maneuvered the gurney through the doorway and down the hallway.

“What are we supposed to do?” I asked in a small voice.

Leslie shook her head. “I have no idea. Should we notify someone? Do we have her office number at the courthouse?”

“I have her home telephone number,” Keiko said as she trotted up to us, “but I think she lives alone.”

Gregory was rubbing his face so hard that he was liable to erase his features. “Keiko, get on the Internet and find her office number. I have Sonya's cell number. Maybe she can get hold of Frances.”

“Shouldn't someone go to the hospital?” I inserted. “Did they take her purse?”

Gregory went into the room. “No, and they'll want her insurance information. In their world, that's all that matters.”

Leslie cleared her throat. “I need to deal with fifty panicky students.”

“I'll get on my computer and notify her staff,” Keiko said. “She told me she was hearing a case this afternoon.”

“And I,” Gregory said, “must stay here in my position as executive director. I can expect the police to show up in the next ten minutes.”

I couldn't bring myself to announce that I had to go buy hot dogs and buns for my daughter's pool party. “All right,” I said, trying not to sound spiteful. “Before I go, would someone please tell me what happened? Who found her?”

“Yelena,” Keiko said. “She was helping clean up after the potluck. She didn't know what to do with all the bags full of trash, so she decided to put them in an empty room. She said some of them were stinky.”

I was glad I hadn't been there. Yelena might have still been panting with passion from her recitation, and her reaction would have redefined melodrama. “Did Willie have a heart attack?”

Gregory shrugged. “The paramedics ordered us out of the room, and I couldn't understand them from the doorway.” He handed me a large, worn leather purse. “Hadn't you better be going?”

I stopped in Keiko's office and scribbled my cell number on a piece of paper. When I got to my car, I called Caron and explained the situation, then said, “I promise to reimburse you, and I'll get home as soon as I can.” I allowed her to gripe for a moment and then ended the call. Peter's cell went to voice mail, as usual. I called Jorgeson and told him about Willie. “There's nothing I can do at the hospital, but I have to stay until someone else takes over. Please let Peter know that at least twenty teenagers are coming to the house at four o'clock to swim. If he can't be there, tell him to send a couple of uniformed officers. I do not want my house destroyed.”

I parked in the hospital lot and went into the emergency room. There were a dozen people sitting on plastic chairs while they waited to be seen. I went to the desk and inquired about Wilhelmina Constantine.

The weary middle-aged woman glanced up. “Do you have her insurance card?”

I dug through Willie's purse and took out a bulging wallet. After a lengthy search, I found her card. Rather than handing it over, I said, “I'd like an update on her condition.”

“I don't have that information. I need her card so I can process her.” She held out her hand.

I dangled it temptingly. “Someone has information about her condition. I'll just wait over there.”

“Do I need to call security?”

I chuckled unpleasantly. “Go right ahead. In the meantime, I'll rip this card into little bitty pieces and eat them one by one. Ms. Constantine is a federal judge. She won't be pleased when she hears about you. Could you loan me a pen, please? I want to write down your name.”

The woman, who was red-faced by now, looked as though she was about to charge out from behind her desk to wrest the card from my hand. I was disappointed when she snapped, “I shall speak to my supervisor!”

I plopped down on the nearest chair and crossed my arms. I was not surprised when Jorgeson sat down beside me. “How's she doing?” he asked.

“I don't know, and that woman is fixated on Willie's insurance card. I'm holding it hostage until I get a medical update. If I were next of kin, I could storm down the hallway, but I really don't want to have to deal with security. Why don't you go flash your badge at that woman and find out about Willie's condition?” I gritted my teeth as my eyes welled with tears.

Jorgeson patted my knee and went to the desk. A conversation ensued, although I couldn't hear any of it. He beckoned to me, and we went through the doors to the ER treatment corridor. Behind beige curtains, Willie was surrounded by people in white coats. I held my breath, wishing there was something I could do. My cell phone buzzed. I backed away and took it out of my purse.

“Claire-san?” Keiko whispered.

“They can't hear you, so you can speak up. Did you contact Willie's office?”

“The man I spoke to was very upset and asked me many questions. I told him she was at the hospital. I think he will come soon. Do you know how she's doing?”

“No, but I'm here with Lieutenant Jorgeson, and we should know something in a few minutes. She's alive, and that's a good sign. Did the police come?”

“Your husband is in Gregory's office now.”

I thanked her and ended the call. I moved to Jorgeson's side and said, “Have they said anything?”