Murder the Tey Way: A Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mystery (The Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mysteries 2) (22 page)

She shrugged. “Marge gives me much too much credit. I merely got things rolling. The other day was quiet at the bank, so I had time to examine a few of our big personal accounts—something we’re asked to do periodically for our customers’ benefit as well as ours. I came across the account belonging to a rather nice gentleman high up in the state department. I remembered what Marge and Evan were going through, so I called him to ask if he could help resolve the matter.”

“She’s full of it,” Joy whispered.

She had to be. The story sounded too good to be real, but I
had
to hear more. “You called and he offered to work out all the kinks?” I asked Corinne, not bothering to hide how incredulous I found her story.

She grinned back, as if she knew what I was thinking and didn’t give a damn. “More or less. The problem appealed to him, probably because it involved a young child. He promised to see what he could do, and called back two days later, matter resolved.”

“Amazing,” I muttered.

“Totally amazing!” Marge agreed. “The woman looking after Eloisa needed reassurance that we’d be good guardians. After all, she’s a distant cousin of the little girl’s father. Money wasn’t the prime concern.”

Prime concern?
“Are you and Evan paying her?”

“Of course. For taking care of Eloisa all this time. Doña Marisol is a widow. She earns barely enough money to feed her three children and herself, let alone feed and clothe Eloisa.”

I bit back what I really thought, for fear of ruining Marge’s special evening. “The important thing is bringing your granddaughter home.”

At that point, everyone had something to say. Something was wrong with this picture. No doubt, this
doña
Marisol was receiving big bucks, as were other people. But none of it mattered if Eloisa was brought safely to the U. S. Feeling restless, I picked up the dishes of cookies and cakes and went around offering them to my guests.

“Coffee and tea are in the kitchen,” I said. Minutes later, when everyone was back in the living room munching away, I suggested that we open Eloisa’s presents.We oohed and ahed as one after another gift was unwrapped and held up for Marge’s approval. And approve she did. At last, the only remaining gift was the one that had just been delivered.

I reached for it. “I think this is from your granddaughter, Marge.”

“Really?” Marge’s face scrunched in puzzlement. “Callie told me she was sending us a check.”

“Then I’ve no idea who it’s from. Maybe the card’s inside.”

Marge ripped away the paper. “It’s a beautiful cloth-bound photo album.” She thumbed through the pages. “I can’t find a card. Wait, here’s something.”

I picked up the photograph that had fallen to the carpet. A young woman gazed down at something long and furry in her lap. I gulped when I realized it was a ferret. A dead ferret, judging by the angle of its head.

Then why was the young woman smiling?

“That’s Oscar!” Felicity exclaimed. “And that’s you, Corinne.” Her voice wobbled when she asked, “What did you do to him?”

Corinne put an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I didn’t do anything, sweetie.   Johnny had just put him to sleep because Daddy...”  She removed the photograph from Felicity’s trembling fingers. “You shouldn’t be looking at this.”

She glared at me. “How did this photo get here? Is this your idea of a joke?”

“My idea? You saw for yourself. It fell out of the baby album.”

“Who would do such an awful thing?” Marge moaned. She slumped down in her chair. I didn’t like the pale color her face had turned.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering the young man who had delivered the package. Though the tilt of his cap had prevented me from seeing his face, I was willing to bet he was Johnny Scarvino.

I reached for the photo. “May I see that?”

“No! ” Corinne held it between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, about to rip it to shreds. Joy broke her grip and grabbed the picture.

“This isn’t yours, Corinne. It came in a gift for Eloisa. The police might want it as evidence.”

“Evidence! Evidence of what?” Corinne’s face burned red with fury. “
I’m
the person in the picture. I’ll decide what happens to it. Hand it over!”

Joy shook her head. Corinne looked like a cork ready to pop.

“Come, Felicity. We’re going home!”

I followed the sisters into the spare bedroom where the guests’ jackets were strewn on the bed.

“But you were smiling, Corinne. Why were you smiling?” Felicity asked.

“Felicity dear, I wasn’t smiling. Here’s your jacket. Now where’s mine?”

I picked up Brian at Kennedy Airport the following afternoon. We stopped for an early dinner then drove to my house. Once inside, we ripped off each other’s clothes like they do in the movies and headed for the bedroom. Puss meowed when I closed the door in his face, but I was in no mood to worry about his feelings.

After a short bout of cuddling and another round of sex, I showered and dressed while Brian called the precinct and caught up on things. Then we walked hand-in-hand to Joy and Mike’s house.

The Lincoln household was quiet at nine o’clock with all the kids in bed. Joy sat us down at the kitchen table, poured us each a mug of coffee, then handed the photo to Brian. He studied it for what seemed like minutes. When I could take the silence no longer, I said,

“Corinne’s smiling. No normal person smiles when an animal dies, unless she killed it.”

Brian pursed his lips, still staring at the photo. “I can’t
swear
that she’s smiling.   She’s not looking at the camera so we can’t see her eyes. It could be a grimace of sadness because the ferret’s dead.”

Joy threw him a scornful look. “Come on, Donovan. You’re not on the stand. You know as well as I do Corinne killed that poor creature.
Corinne!
Not Johnny as Felicity believes.”

“That’s what Johnny wants us, Corinne’s neighbors, to know,” Mike said. “But why? And in such a convoluted way.”

Joy sipped her coffee. “Probably because no one’s listened to what he’s been saying all these years. Namely, that his father didn’t kill the girls’ parents.”

“How did he find out about the shower?” I asked. “We only planned it a few days ago and Johnny was in jail, according to Corinne and Felicity.”

“He must have bugged their phone somehow,” Brian said.

“Or bugged one of their cell phones,” Mike said. “Either way, he knows people with high tech expertise.”

”He’s fishing,” Brian said. “Without new evidence regarding the murders, he can’t expect to get his father out of prison.”

I bit into a brownie and chewed thoughtfully. “Johnny’s telling us Corinne is evil. Only an evil person would kill someone’s pet.”

“Only an evil person would kill her own parents,” Joy said.

Brian laughed. “That’s some wild assumption.”

“There’s such a thing as logic and common sense!” she snapped. “Murderers who kill without compunction start out by killing animals.”

“Ferrets are weasels,” Mike pointed out. “Though they’re popular pets, many people don’t regard them as they do cats and dogs.”

“Oscar was Felicity’s pet,” Joy said.

Mike leaned over to kiss her cheek. “What you need is evidence, my dear, to substantiate your charges.”

Joy frowned. “We’ve no evidence, no clues, no DNA to say that Corinne ever harmed anyone, much less a ferret.”

I suddenly remembered. “Speaking of wild assumptions, Sadie has it in her head that Tim’s ex-wife, Viola, killed him. For one thing, she was fed up paying him alimony.”

Mike grinned at his wife. “That’s a good enough reason in my book.”

Joy punched his arm.

“Sadie also said Viola threatened to murder him if he ruined another woman financially,” I said.

“Well, that didn’t happen,” Joy said. “Sadie racked up her debt all by herself.”

“True, but Tim arranged a loan for Sadie, and didn’t tell her with whom. Now that person wants his money back pronto and with interest.”

Brian stared at me. “That’s serious. Did she go to the police for protection?”

I shook my head. “I told her to report it, but she seemed more concerned with confronting Viola herself.”

Brian cursed under his breath.

The phone rang. Joy answered it. From the way her face froze, I could tell the news wasn’t good. The three of us stopped talking to listen to the conversation.

“Are you sure? Really? I suppose they can hold him, though—”

She listened some more, then said, “Unfortunately, Homeland Security isn’t part of the FBI.”

From the little I’d heard, I felt sorry for whomever was on the other end of the phone.

Joy spoke words of comfort to the caller and hung up. She turned to us. “That was Marge. They were checking their luggage for the flight to Lima and Evan was taken away. It seems he’s on Homeland Security’s ‘no fly’ list.”

The words tumbled around in my brain. “That’s absurd. Evan was a dairy farmer, for God’s sake. How did he end up on the national terrorist list?”

Joy turned from leafing through her phone book to answer me. “It’s a mistake, of course. Probably someone with the same name—ah, here it is!”

“Are you calling Fred?” Mike asked.

She nodded as she punched in numbers. “Of course. He has friends in Homeland Security. I’m hoping one of them can clear Evan in time to get him aboard his plane.”

Mike shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Are you absolutely positive Evan’s who he says he is?” I asked.

Joy scowled at me. “What an awful thing to say!”

“Why? The Mafia princesses live next door to me.”

Brian and Mike found that hilarious.

Joy left their friend Fred a message to call her ASAP. After she hung up, she turned to us. “Fred’s the only one who might help, and I’ve no idea when he’ll get back to me. Looks like Evan’s not leaving the U.S. any time soon.”

The phone rang again. Joy explained all this to a very agitated Marge. She ended by saying, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to fly to Lima without Evan.” She listened, consoled her as best she could, and hung up.

“Poor Marge is devastated, but she’s determined to fly to Lima herself,” Joy told us.

Brian and I left shortly after that. When we reached my driveway, he pulled me close. “Lexie, babe, I worry about you. You’re like a magnet for bad guys, no matter where you live.”

Annoyed, I pulled free. “What are you talking about? It’s not my fault the Mafia princesses live next door.”

I didn’t like the smirk on his face. “And the others? A smalltime wise guy ends up dead on your lawn. A book club member’s shot to death. Another one’s stopped by Homeland Security. Do you call that the usual order of business?”

I drew myself up until I almost faced him eye to eye. “I don’t know what’s normal. All I know is I didn’t bring any of this about.”

“You didn’t. I only wish you weren’t involved.”

“Well, I am involved with my book club members!” I strode the remaining yards to my front door and pulled out my key. “Good night, Brian.”

When he tried to hug me, I remained rigid as a board.

“Don’t be like this,” he murmured in my ear.

“Then don’t tell me whom to care about, whom to know—“

He kissed me, putting an end to my tirade. Finally, he let me go. Stroking my cheek, he said, “Cops have a hard time when the people they love get caught up in their cases.”

Love!
  I nodded, reeling from his choice of words.

“Stay safe, Lexie,” he whispered, not moving until I was safely inside.

*****

Joy called the following afternoon to tell me her friend Fred had managed to contact someone who could do something about Evan’s situation.

“Homeland Security’s running through every document they have on him, and should be finished later today.”

“Poor Evan. Will he be able to fly to Peru, after all?”

“They’ve told him not till next week the earliest.”

“Damn! He has to be there to sign the necessary documents.”

Joy laughed. “You didn’t let me finish. Fred’s friend called in a few favors, and things are moving at lightening speed. Evan should be able to leave tomorrow night.”

I grinned. “I’m impressed. I’m glad I know you, in case I get into trouble.”

“
Don’t
get into trouble!” she said fervently. “My nerves can’t take another shock.”

Brian called from the precinct, where he was catching up on paperwork.

“Thanks for the tip about Sadie. I stopped by the high school this morning. It took some convincing, but she finally agreed to let the department handle her loan shark.”

“I’m glad. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Does Sadie still insist that Viola killed Tim?”

He laughed. “You know I can’t tell you.”

“I love this one-way relationship we have.”

“It’s only one-way where my work’s concerned,” he said softly.

I bit back my retort, determined not to make this a festering issue between us. Brian had recused himself from one homicide investigation because of our relationship, and I didn’t want him to have to do it again. We discussed our Saturday night dinner plans at a cozy restaurant out East then said good-bye.

I settled down to grade essays, but thoughts about the two unsolved homicide cases, Johnny Scarvino, and the Billingses’ trip to Peru kept interrupting my concentration. I riffled through the pile of papers yet to be read and promised myself I’d read eight more before taking matters into my own hands à la Jane Marple and Lucy Pym. It was time to do some sleuthing on my own.

The phone rang. It was Viola.

“Lexie, do you plan to hold more meetings to discuss works by Josephine Tey?”

“With all that’s been happening, I haven’t given it much thought.”

“You mean like someone shooting my ex-husband, and his hysterical girl friend insisting that I killed him?”

I drew in breath. “Sadie went ahead and accused you? I told her not to.”

Viola snorted. “Sadie’s not one to listen to reason under the best of circumstances.”

“She’s distraught over Tim’s death—“