NAILED (3 page)

“So what happened yesterday?” Mom asked, just as Riley, my parents’ Welsh terrier, flew into the room. My mother took the lid off a glass bowl and pulled out a small treat for the dog. He practically inhaled it, and then jumped up on the sofa and made himself comfortable between my sister and mother.

“Victor did our inspection the other night on our sunroom and wouldn’t sign off on it. I was mad, but I figured I’d let Michael handle it. Then yesterday morning he said maybe we could work something out, and as he said it he put his hand on my hip. Made my skin crawl. I got the kids out of the car and sent them inside and then I followed Vic into the school. I wanted to tell him in no uncertain terms that he better knock it off, and that I knew what he was up to and he wasn’t going to get away with it. I would see to that.” My sister took a deep breath. “Of course, by then my voice was pretty loud. Everyone was listening. But I certainly didn’t mean I would
kill
the man. I wanted to, but you know, that was just the heat of the moment.”

“I don’t understand,” my mother began. “The police think you followed him all day and then killed him last night?”

“That’s just it. I had to run some, um, had some errands to run last night, so I wasn’t home at the time he was killed.”

“Well, there you go. Someone must have seen you. The police will follow up and everything will be fine.” Mom smiled and patted Sam’s hand.

I sensed my sister wasn’t telling us the whole story, and I had a feeling it had something to do with Michael. I wasn’t about to press her any further, not in front of our mother, but there was someone else who had the answer and he better cough up or he’d be looking for another place to live and a new wife.

After I pilfered a dozen or so cookies from my parents, I headed home. I wasn’t in the mood to cook, so first I stopped off at Krueger’s Market for a rotisserie chicken to go with the big bowl of steamed broccoli I had in the refrigerator. Every week I steam a big bunch of broccoli, drizzle some extra virgin olive oil over it, add some chopped garlic and fresh lemon juice, and pop it in the frig. I munch on it while I make dinner, and it’s a much healthier snack than, say, a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. I don’t even buy them anymore because I just don’t have the will power to keep myself from devouring the entire bag at one sitting. But tonight I had oatmeal coconut chocolate chip cookies with me, so I didn’t think my broccoli routine would help. Instead, I planned to have it with the chicken as a side and that would be my dinner.

I didn’t expect the detective, aka my husband, to be home yet, but his car was in the driveway. I pulled into the garage and made my way into the kitchen and put my groceries on the counter, and then filled the electric kettle with water and turned it on.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come home tonight. I thought maybe you’d stay over at Meme’s. I was just about to call.”

“If anyone should be somewhere else it’s you,” I said, while I pulled a plate down from the cupboard and took the broccoli out of the refrigerator. I leaned on the counter with one hand and put my other firmly on my hip. “How could you come into my office and take my sister out like a common criminal in front of everyone? Huh? You humiliated her and for what? Because someone overheard her have words with some jerk. May he rest in peace, but from what she tells me, he wasn’t the nicest guy, and do you know that there are rumors he may have killed his wife?”

I sliced several pieces of white meat leaving the warm crispy skin intact, spooned a big helping of broccoli onto my plate to counteract the damage all those cookies I planned to eat for dessert might do, and took it over to the kitchen table.

“May I join you?” Detective Van der Burg asked.

I shrugged while he filled a plate and sat next to me.

“Alex, I have a job to do.”

“Right. And you might work on your people skills. I understand that you usually deal with more unsavory characters, and maybe that’s all you know, but my sister, your sister-in-law, is not one of them. I’m surprised you didn’t bring a SWAT team along with you so the whole street would know what was going on.” I speared a stalk with my fork and took a bite.

I chewed while I watched this Arnold Schwarzenegger wannabe next to me.

“Okay. I guess I could have handled it better.”

“Ya think?”

“Yeah, I think. Am I forgiven?”

“I don’t know. It seems like a waste of a good tree to throw out those divorce papers I have in my purse, but maybe I can recycle them.” I looked at the idiot and smiled. “How could you possibly think my sister had anything to do with a murder? Thank God you came to your senses and let her go.” I cut a piece of the juicy meat and savored the crisp, herb-encrusted skin.

“Well, she’s not actually off the hook. I didn’t think she and the kids would up and leave during the night so I didn’t see any reason to lock her up.”

I looked at John, expecting a smile. He was making a joke, right? Wrong. The man sat there, all serious like.

I put my fork down. “Are you kidding me? You interrogated her for what, over an hour, and you still think she might be involved?”

“Alex, calm down. Yes, I questioned her and I gave her every chance to give me an alibi for the time Mr. Sanjari was killed.”

“And?”

“And nothing. She wouldn’t tell us where she was or what she was doing at the time of the murder. Nothing. She told us they had words earlier in the day, but wouldn’t tell us anything more.”

“Well, she probably just ran some errands, John. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is she won’t tell us what those errands were. And we need to know.”

Despite the fact that it was a warm evening and there was no breeze coming through the open kitchen window, I felt a chill crawling up my back. What the hell was going on? Why wouldn’t my sister tell the police where she had been? I didn’t have any answers, but I also didn’t have to sit here and listen to my husband tell me that he still suspected my sister of murder. She was my flesh and blood, the person who knew all my secrets and protected me when I was little from the thunder and lightning. No, I wouldn’t have it.

I pushed my plate away with a quick brush of my hand and walked to the counter. I tossed a tea bag into a mug and filled it with water. I picked up the mug, grabbed a bag of cookies, and without a further word I went to bed.

I couldn’t sleep. No one could with all the sugar and chocolate I had consumed from the cookies. At some point during the night I had heard John come upstairs. He must have slept in the guest room, and I hoped he liked it in there because I could see this setup becoming permanent.

I looked at the clock. Four-thirty. I got up and took a shower and dressed. Thirty minutes later I went down to the kitchen and to my surprise it was spotless, but if John Van der Burg thought a clean kitchen would make up for taking my sister to the police station, he had another thing coming.

I was about to make a cup of tea, but really didn’t want to be here when John came down. I knew where I could go and I knew there would be food.

Ten minutes later I pulled up in front of my grandmother’s house and smiled when I saw the lights on.

“I half expected you to be here last night,” my grandmother, Giannina Redmond, or Meme as everyone calls her, said as I placed a kiss on her soft cheek.

“In retrospect, I should have.”

“That bad? Your mother told me what John did.”

“Let’s just say, he slept in the guest room and I consumed a dozen oatmeal coconut chocolate chip cookies.”

“Your mother’s recipe?” Meme asked.

“Yep.”

“I don’t blame you there, kiddo. Those things are the best. Well, I have some fresh melon and some sourdough wheat toast for you. Got some salami, too.”

I helped my grandmother carry everything into the small living room of her small house in a senior community. Meme loves living here and has some terrific friends, plus she’s nice and close so I can drop by several mornings a week before work.

“Your mother was pretty upset. She was crying on the phone. I had Theresa drive me over there,” Meme said, referring to one of her two best friends, the other being Frances Haddock, a wonderful British woman I met several years ago when I found my first body. I had a feeling she and Meme would make a great pair and I was right, or spot on, as Frances would say.

“Is Mom okay?” I asked. I hated to think of my mother crying.

“Yeah, she just needed her mother. Your dad was upset, too, but stayed strong for Mable. I knew they would make a good match from the day I met him, just like I knew John was the one for you.”

“Really? Well, I guess you can’t be right all the time,” I quipped.

“Don’t be too hard on him, kiddo. He’s a cop. And a man. Not his fault he wasn’t born a girl with common sense. We have to cut them some slack. Did John tell you anything last night? Are they really serious about Samantha?” Meme had a worried look on her face.

“Grandma, I’m really worried, too.” My voice cracked.

“Kiddo, you’re not saying Sam did it?”

“I don’t know. John said they gave her every chance to tell them where she was the evening Mr. Sanjari was killed. Plus there’s more.”

My grandmother put her hand on her heart. “What? Tell me.”

“She thinks Michael’s having an affair. Don’t say a word to Mom or Dad. And you know what? I called him the minute John took her to the station and he wasn’t at his office and no one knew where he was. I left a message and never heard a word. His wife is in jail and he can’t be found.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

I looked at my grandmother. “No, it doesn’t.” I took a couple bites out of my toast and then took a sip of tea.

“Do you think she’s having an affair?” Meme asked.

“Oh, God, I hope not. I can’t believe she would. I mean, when would she have the time with two kids and work and a husband…” I let my words trail off.

“But? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. I mean, well, I never gave it a second thought, but now that I’m thinking about it, she’s been coming in late or leaving early quite a bit. She’s always got something going on with Kendall and Henry, so I figured that’s all it was, but what if it’s not?”

At the sound of footsteps on the walk outside, Meme and I stopped talking. There was a light tap on the door and then it opened and my sister walked in, surprising me for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Meme stood up faster than I thought possible for a woman her size—short and round— and wrapped my sister in a great big hug. When Sam straightened up, she had tears in her eyes and so did my grandmother.

“I knew you’d be here,” Sam said to me.

“Sit down, sweetheart, while I get you some breakfast.”

Sam looked at my plate. “I’ll have the same thing, Meme. I’ll get the tea.”

A few minutes later they were back in the living room. Meme brought more salami out on a small cutting board and added a chunk of provolone cheese. I took several more slices of the meat and a couple of the cheese.

When we were all settled, Meme looked at my sister and said firmly, “Samantha, you have to tell the police where you were. There’s nothing you can say that will change how we feel about you, but you have to tell them. We can’t lose you, honey, and those kids need their mother. Whatever is going on, we’ll fix it. Just tell John everything so he can help you.”

My sister started to cry and then everything came pouring out. “I’m so ashamed of myself. I never thought I would be one of those women, but I couldn’t help it.”

Meme and I exchanged glances. What was going on here? Did my sister just admit to having an affair of her own?

I reached out and touched her hand and handed her a tissue from a box on the end table.

“Samantha, Meme’s right. We love you no matter what. Everyone’s allowed to make a mistake at least once in their life. You’re at the age where you’re probably wondering what it all means; did you make the right choices, are you losing your looks. It’s only natural that you’d be flattered at the attention some guy might pay you.”

Sam wiped her eyes, took a bite of cheese and looked at me. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You’re having an affair, right? Isn’t that what you’re trying to tell us?”

“Whaaattt! Are you crazy? Of course I’m not having an affair. When would I find the time, and exactly what do you mean I’m losing my looks?”

I ran my hand across my forehead in a
thank God for that
motion. “Whew, that’s a relief.”

Meme and I both gave a nervous little laugh.

“We didn’t really think you were, but Alex said you’ve been leaving the office early a lot lately or coming in late.”

“So if you’re not having an affair then what are you so ashamed of? What have you been doing?” I asked.

“I’m ashamed because I’ve been following Michael. Or at least trying to. But by the time I drop the kids off and get to his office, he’s not there. I’ve been sitting in the parking lot across the street from his practice waiting for him to show up and he never does. And the night Mr. Sanjari was killed, Michael was late. I called him and got no answer so I did the same thing. I drove over to his office and waited. But he never showed up. Where the hell is he? I can’t keep this up. I’m acting like one of those wives who doesn’t trust their husbands. That’s not me.”

“This is great!” I said and then received two weird looks from the others in the room. “I don’t mean it’s great that you don’t know where Michael is, but now you can tell John and you’ll be off the hook for murder.”

“No, I won’t. I still don’t have an alibi. No one else was around. No one saw me; at least I hope they didn’t. God, this is a mess.”

“Was Michael home last night?” I asked.

“Yes, he was home and we had dinner and then I asked him where he’s been. I told him what happened, and he was mortified and apologized for not being there for me, but all he said was that he was just so busy at work and had a meeting with some other dentists.”