“It’s unhygienic. And upsetting. Even that b—battleax Jini agreed. No one wanted the body kept there. We all wanted it moved.”
“Amber and Joe didn’t want it moved.”
Roman waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “Almost everyone.”
“You disturbed a crime scene after being told not to. The police will be interested to hear about it. Moving on—”
“Yes, let’s, shall we.”
I sealed my lips to see if he was going to interrupt me again. He re-clasped his hands on his lap and smiled.
“Is there anything more you can tell us about the night Beryl died? Or the weeks leading up to it?”
Roman nodded, a pleased little smile on his face. “There is.”
“Yeah? Go on.”
“It was obviously Norm that killer her—”
“Not necessarily,” Ian interrupted.
“Can I finish?”
“Go ahead, Roman, but you’ve got to be aware that we don’t agree with your opinion that it was Norm. We need evidence, not supposition.”
“If you’d listen, I’ll give you some evidence.”
I folded my arms in front of me and raised my eyebrows to get him to continue.
“We saw him in Las Vegas, three weeks ago.” Roman said no more, sitting with a self-satisfied smile.
“Explain.”
“He was with a woman. A woman a lot younger than Beryl. Couldn’t have been more than fifty. And they were on a date.”
“So?”
“So Norman has spent the last couple of years flirting with Beryl. She thought he was courting her. But he wasn’t. He was just trying to get in her good graces so he could be written into her will. He has a girlfriend in Las Vegas, and he was just using Beryl.”
“I wasn’t aware that Beryl and Norman were romantically linked.”
Roman shook his head. “They weren’t, not officially, but Beryl thought they were. The way she talked about their long conversations, and the gifts he bought her—flowers and chocolate and the like—it was obvious that she thought there was more to it. She knew she was old, but I don’t think she ever truly realized just how old she was. She used to talk about things like going on a cruise five or ten years down the line, or starting a business, or all manner of things that ninety-year-olds don’t generally plan on doing. She thought she and Norm were going to have an inevitable romance one day.”
“And you think Norm led her on, got in her will, and killed her the same day?”
“Yes. Absolutely. And the fact he has a girlfriend in Las Vegas is proof that he was leading her on.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this yesterday?”
“Forgot.”
“You forgot? It seems like an odd thing to forget.”
It seemed like the kind of thing that could have been cooked up in Yumi and Roman’s room the day before to draw suspicion toward Norman.
“Like I said, it was a few weeks ago. M—my girlfriend reminded me of it last night, after everyone had gone to sleep. It had completely slipped my mind.”
“Do you have a bad memory?” Ian asked.
“Yes. Maybe that’s why I became a writer?”
Ian’s brow wrinkled. “What?”
“You know, I started writing everything down to remember. And before I knew it, I was writing all the time. It was a natural progression.”
Ian looked at me quizzically.
“I think he’s kidding, Ian.”
Roman laughed. “I was. But I honestly do have a bad memory. Yumi says I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached to the rest of my body via my spine, muscles, tendons, veins, arteries, and skin.”
“She said that?” It didn’t sound like a very Yumi thing to say to me.
Roman shrugged. “That’s the gist.”
Roman was getting weirder by the minute. And more confident. Almost cocky.
“Is there anything else you want to tell us?”
“The only thing I want to tell you is to open your eyes. It was clearly Norm who did it. And now he’s got what he deserved.” Roman pursed his lips and whistled, a continuous sound starting at a high pitch, getting lower and lower until, “Splat.”
“You think Norm deserved to fall off a cliff to his death?”
“Sure.”
“Would you like to hear what was in Beryl’s will?”
Roman shrugged. “Am I in it?”
“No.”
“Then it doesn’t really concern me. Did she do what she said? Leave everything to Norman?”
“Pretty much.”
“Nasty thing to do, isn’t it? She had a kid. Shoulda left it to her.”
“She left a little to her daughter.”
“Better than nothing I suppose. If I was her, I’d be mad though. It’s kind of like what Beryl did to me, you know? Ripping off my mom and making me grow up poor?”
“Beryl’s daughter is all grown up at least. She must be fifty or more.”
Roman nodded. “Yeah, that helps. Still, I bet she and her kid would have liked to inherit a house like this. Even if just to sell it.”
“I guess anyone would,” I said with a shrug. “Ian, any more questions?”
“Not just now.”
“Thanks, Roman. If you could not mention the contents of the will to anyone just yet, we’d be most grateful.”
“Why not? Beryl already told us she was going to leave it all to that lawyer, and it sounds like she pretty much did.”
“I know. But still, perhaps someone was expecting to receive something. Keep it to yourself, please.”
“Sure, okay.”
We walked Roman to the door. Yumi was waiting in the hall, looking out of a window near the front door.
“How’s it looking?” I called to her.
“Looks like snow,” she said without turning. “Do you want me now?”
“Yes, please.”
When Yumi turned, all three of us who had just exited the library gasped in shock. Across Yumi’s head was a strip of black cloth, and over one eye was a square patch of the same material.
“Yumi!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”
She shook her head and laughed like it was nothing. That didn’t mesh with her new pirate-like appearance. “Nothing. I just hurt my eye, so I covered it up!”
Roman hurried over to her and held her face in his hands, staring at it. She stood up on tiptoes and whispered something into his ear. He hugged her, and then stepped back.
“You silly girl,” he said playfully. “Go talk to them, and then come back to the room. You need to close your eyes and give them a rest so they can get better.”
When Yumi was in the library and sitting in front of us, I asked her again what she’d done to herself.
“I just hurt it. I was, umm, trying to show Angel how to use chopsticks again. I got poked.”
“By Angel?”
She shook her head. “No, by me. I got confused. I forgot I was holding them and then bent down and stabbed myself in the eye with one of them.”
“You stabbed your eye?” Ian exclaimed. “You have to get Maeve to look at it.”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. I think stab is the wrong word. Poke? That’s it. I poked myself. It’s fine, really. Just a bit red and swollen. That’s why I covered it.”
“But it could get infected.” Ian stared at her wide-eyed across the table. “You might have really damaged it!”
Yumi shook her head. “No, it’s… it’s fine. I just need to keep it covered for a day or two. I did it before.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “You’ve stabbed yourself in the eye with chopsticks before?”
She nodded. “So clumsy, right? Anyway, I know what to do. Just cover it up so there’s no strain on the eye. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to go and see Maeve? She used to be a nurse.”
Yumi shook her head. “No, really, I’m fine.” She leaned forward, a little smile on her lips. “Don’t you think
I look cool? Like a pirate. A girl pirate!”
We both gave her a nervous laugh to play along. I didn’t think she looked cool. I thought she looked like someone who was afraid of getting medical attention from Maeve.
“If you’re sure you’re okay, we’ll just move forward with our interview.”
Yumi nodded enthusiastically. “Okay!”
She was surprisingly chipper for someone with what was presumably a painful eye injury.
“Is there anything new you can tell us since yesterday?”
Yumi scrunched up her face like she was deep in thought. “Oh! We saw Norman in Las Vegas! With a woman!”
“Yes, Roman just mentioned that. It’s funny how you both forgot yesterday, isn’t it?”
Yumi grinned. She squeezed her right hand into a small fist and then banged it against the side of her head. “We’ve got terrible memories.”
“Both of you? That must be inconvenient sometimes.”
“Oh, yeah,” Yumi said, grinning and nodding, “it sure is. Can you believe we both forgot our hundred-day anniversary?”
“Hundred-day anniversary?” Ian asked, perplexed.
“Yep. Roman and I both forgot. Our two-hundred-day anniversary, too! We’re so silly.”
Ian nudged me. “Was I supposed to do something for a hundred-day anniversary with Sally?”
“I don’t think everyone celebrates that particular anniversary. I’m sure Sally would let you know if you forgot one that was important to her.”
“You’re right, she sure would.” Ian quietly shook his head to himself as he imagined the trouble he’d be in.
“Yumi, you remembered seeing Norman with a girlfriend in Las Vegas. Is there anything else you’ve remembered since yesterday?”
She placed her index finger on her chin, and shifted her gaze to look up and to the left, as if I were a photographer and had just asked her to do a trying to remember pose.
After making an audible—and possibly theatrical—hmm, Yumi looked at me again. “I don’t think so.” A small smile crossed her lips. “Not that I can remember.”
I leaned across the table and stared at her, taking a moment to let the gravity of the situation sink in. “Are you sure?”
Yumi’s smile faltered. She nodded. “No, nothing.”
“We’ve read Beryl’s will. What do you think of the fact that she left almost everything to her lawyer friend, Norman?”
Yumi’s face fell. Her lips pursed, and her brow furrowed.
“She left her wealth to her lawyer instead of her family?” Yumi blinked in amazement. “Can she do that?”
I shrugged. “She could leave whatever she wanted to whomever she wanted. If the lawyer, Norman, tricked her, pressured her, or cajoled her, then the family could of course fight it. But if it was a legitimate bequest, there’s nothing they could do.”
“That’s terrible.” Yumi looked legitimately angry. Was it out of some sense of national loyalty to Beryl’s daughter? “Her family should sue Norm.” Her lips pushed together into a thoughtful frown—and this time she really looked like she was thinking, rather than posing. “I guess if he’s dead he won’t inherit anything.”
“Yep. It would just go to the beneficiaries of his will.”
“That’s not right,” Yumi said, with a shake of her head. “It should go to her family.”
Ian was scribbling notes in his notepad, a concerned frown on his face.
“Why do you care, Yumi?”
Her face broke into a smile. “I don’t. Sorry. It’s just, she was so mean. I thought that was over, now she’s dead. But it’s not! Even after dying, she’s still being mean to everyone. To her family, even. I hate it. Why can’t everyone be nice to each other, huh?”
“Now that’s a question for the ages.”
“What do you mean?”
I shook my head at her. “Never mind. So, that’s the situation. And you can’t tell us anything else? No memories have popped back up while we’ve been talking?”
“No.” Yumi stood up. “Can I go now?”
Ian gave a nod. He had no questions for her.
“Yes,” I said, “off you go, Yumi. If your eye keeps hurting, go and see Maeve.”
She was already halfway to the door. She turned her head, her dyed blonde hair swishing around her face. “It’s fine. See you later.”
When she was gone, Ian slumped back in his chair.
“I don’t like it,” he declared.
“No?”
He shook his head.
“Yumi seemed so nice. I think Roman’s been a bad influence on her.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something up with the two of them. They’re hiding something. Or covering something up.”
“Roman seems awfully sure it was Norman who killed Beryl,” I said to him. I was curious to see if Ian was on the same page as me.
“I know he does. Norm makes a great scapegoat, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “He sure does. And it was mighty convenient he went missing so we couldn’t question him.”
“What do you think?” Ian asked me.
“I’m not quite sure. But with a bit more sleuthing…”
Ian punched a fist into his palm. “We’ll nail ‘em.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter Seventeen
Maeve produced sandwiches for lunch again. It seemed to be her specialty, at least for the midday meal. This time, however, they came with an accompaniment: delicious bowls of tomato soup. It clearly came from a can, but then again, the best soup always does. At least it does in my apartment.
In between sips, Roman said, “If you won’t let us hike into town—which is completely ridiculous, by the way—you surely can’t object to Yumi and me taking a little walk to the end of the road to inspect this avalanche that is supposedly blocking us off?”
Uncle Joe got to answer him first. “Great idea. Exactly what I was thinking. I’ll come with you. So will Amber.”
Roman froze. It was almost comical. Yumi gave him a nudge.
“Right. Yeah. I mean, you’ll probably slow us down a bit…”
“Hey,” Amber said, mock-insulted. “I’m not that slow.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You meant this old fellow. We know. But unless I’ve failed to keep up with everyone’s social engagements, you don’t have anything to do this afternoon, do you? No tea parties with visiting lords and ladies? No nightclubbing in the basement?”
Roman did not seem to enjoy Joe’s ribbing. “No.”
“You can make yourself useful while you go,” Maeve said as she put another platter of sandwiches down on the center of the table.
“Useful? How?” Roman asked skeptically.
“There’s road salt in the woodshed. You could spread it.”
“You want us to salt the road all the way from here to the blocked pass?”
Maeve shrugged, then nodded her chin at Uncle Joe. “Like he said, you haven’t got anything else to do, have you?”
“I almost wish it hadn’t stopped snowing,” Roman muttered.
“See if you can get a cell phone signal when you get down there,” Ian said to him. “Perhaps you can pick up another tower.”
“If we ever get there.” Roman rolled his eyes heavenward as if he was the most put-upon person in Nevada. Roman turned his gaze to Marcus. “You’ll help with the salt?”
“I’d love to, but you know,” he nodded toward Ian and me with a sly grin.
Roman flashed a glare our way. As if we were the source of all his troubles.
“We’ll try not to keep you too long, Marcus,” I said to him. “I’m sure you’ll be eager to help out your dad and the others.”
“We’ll do our part,” Marcus said with a friendly smile, “won’t we, Jini?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t look very happy, Roman,” I said to him. “You’ve got everyone coming to help you. Cheer up.”
“I’m perfectly happy, thank you. I just thought Yumi and I, being the fittest here, could make good time, check out the avalanche, maybe make a phone call if we can get a signal. Now it looks like it’s going to be a mass group expedition covering the gamut from toddlers to—no offense—seniors, and it’ll take half the afternoon.”
“No,” Maeve said. “It’ll take you the whole afternoon to salt the road properly. Usually we hire a guy in Mount Washington to spread it for us. He has a truck with a plow. You’ve just got hands.”
“And shovels?” Roman asked, the exasperation in his voice getting close to desperation.
“You’re in luck,” Maeve said, a twinkle in her eye.
“And you’ll be helping us too?”
Maeve shook her head. “No. I’m a housekeeper, not a road sweeper.”
“And I’m a writer!”
Maeve shrugged. “It was your idea.”
Roman stared at her open-mouthed. It had been her idea to spread the salt, not his.
“Sounds like everyone’s finally got something to do,” Ian said cheerfully. “It won’t just be Tiffany and I beavering away for once.”
Roman’s open-mouthed stare switched from Maeve to Ian. It didn’t look like his demeanor was going to improve any time soon. I dropped my spoon into my empty soup bowl and grabbed another sandwich from the pile in front of me.
“Come on, Ian. We’ve got to prepare.”
* * *
It was just Marcus, Jini, Maeve, and us in the house. Everyone else was out on the expedition to the avalanche and to engage in Operation Salt Spreading, as Uncle Joe had dubbed it. Roman had, grumpily, ceded leadership of their little outing to the older man in a fit of pique.
Yumi had tried to keep Roman cheery, but failed miserably. Even she was looking like a depressed pirate by the time they left.
Marcus stayed by the fire in the drawing room, reading, while we interviewed Jini first. I mostly repeated the questions I had asked the others. Jini didn’t seem particularly interested in the will any longer, only in the fact that Norman was clearly a highly corrupt representative of the legal profession.
Jini also hadn’t seen or heard anything relevant to our interests since the day before, with one exception. “There is one thing,” she said. “Marcus has something for you. But it was him that found it, not me, so I’ll leave that to him to tell you.”
Reunions and Revelations in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery Page 13