Crypt Suzette

by Maya Corrigan

  “Why would he?” Wilson sneered. “He had his pick of women. The chauffeur couldn’t attract anyone. He went after the maid like a coward, crept up behind her, and beat her head to a pulp.” Wilson grabbed his empty wineglass and for a second Val thought he’d hurl it at Casper. No way he could get that worked up over the plot in the book.

  Wilson put the glass down, stood up, and walked around the table. “No, that’s not the way it went down.” He lunged at Casper, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him from the chair. “You watched Suzette’s every move. You waited for the right moment. And then you drove your car into her.”

  The gangly Casper tried to push the more muscular man away, but Wilson didn’t budge. Morgan cringed in her seat. Gillian froze.

  Eye to eye with Casper, Wilson bellowed, “Admit it! You killed Suzette!”

  “No!” Casper croaked.

  Ruth stood up. “It was an accident, Wilson. Let him go!”

  Casper punched Wilson in the stomach. For all the effect it had, his fist might have been a cream puff. But the other man’s fist could do serious injury.

  Someone had to stop him. Val jumped up, took an empty wine bottle from the table, and zoomed around the table. “Get away from him, Wilson, or I’ll call the police.” Wilson ignored her. She grasped the bottle by the neck and brandished her weapon where he could see it. “I’ll conk you if you don’t let go of him.”

  Ruth came up next to her nephew. “Don’t hit him.” She grabbed Wilson by the shoulders and tried to pull him away from Casper.

  Val pulled too.

  “Stop it!” Bram crossed the CAT Corner in two strides. He shouldered himself between the two men, and pushed them apart.

  Wilson backed off. He raised his hands as if someone held a gun on him. “Sorry. I lost my head.”

  Casper collapsed into his chair, sucking in air.

  Gillian, better late than never, hovered over him. “Are you okay?” He rubbed his throat and nodded, never taking his eyes off Wilson, the hulk standing near the counter.

  Bram watched the two men, his arms folded.

  Val motioned him to the side, out of earshot of those at the table and counter. “Thank you. Please don’t throw any of us out. We’re almost finished.”

  “What were those guys doing? Did they act out a scene from a book and go too far?”

  “Sort of.”

  Ruth returned to her chair. “Wilson!” She pointed to the empty chair next to her. “Here! Sit!”

  Wilson followed orders.

  Bram whispered to Val, “She raises dogs?”

  Val coughed to hide a laugh. “I hope that pooch stays put.” She wouldn’t trust Wilson to behave unless Bram stayed. “Do you mind sticking around?”

  “I won’t leave until Wilson does. Can you get your grandfather to take my place in the shop? He came in ten minutes ago and offered to help.”

  “Okay.” Val left the room, found Granddad near the shop’s checkout counter, and asked him to take over for Bram.

  She went back to the Fictionistas’ table and sat down. Bram was rearranging the books on the shelves in CAT Corner—or pretending to.

  “You’ve had quite enough wine for tonight, Wilson.” Ruth confiscated Wilson’s glass. “You confused the plot of Suzette’s book with what happened to her. The hit-and-run was an accident, wasn’t it?”

  Val interpreted the pointed look Gillian was giving her as a cue to answer the question. No reason to mention the chief’s opinion that it was an accident. “The police are investigating it and are awaiting the results of the autopsy.”

  No one moved or spoke for a moment.

  Gillian broke the silence. “We planned to talk about Suzette tonight, not just her book. Wilson opened the door and raised an issue I imagine we’re all thinking about. What happened to her? You all saw her here Saturday night for the costume contest. Did anyone see her after she left the bookshop that night?”

  Bram’s head whipped around at this question. He’d abandoned the pretense of book shuffling.

  Casper spoke up. “I saw Suzette. She was with him.” He pointed at Wilson. “I don’t think she planned to meet him. He was lurking around the corner. When she went by, he stood in her way and demanded to talk to her.”

  “I wasn’t lurking and I didn’t demand.” Wilson banged his fist on the table. “I asked if she could spare a few minutes. Where were you, Casper the Spy? Hiding behind a bush or up a tree?”

  Casper ignored him. “I wasn’t close enough to hear everything they said, but I saw him grab her arm when she turned to go. Then Suzette raised her voice, and I heard her clearly. She said, I won’t live with you, I won’t marry you, and I won’t talk about this again. Just leave me alone.”

  Ruth clamped her hand on her nephew’s arm as he started to get out of his chair. “You made that all up, Casper,” she said. “Wilson wouldn’t have asked Suzette to marry him. But if he did, she wouldn’t have turned him down.”

  Wilson sneered at Casper. “Suzette must have said those things to you after you dogged her. She didn’t say them to me.”

  “I wasn’t dogging her.”

  Morgan cleared her throat. “Casper, I saw you following Suzette along Main Street that night, a couple of blocks from here.”

  Casper gulped his wine. “I did that to make sure Wilson didn’t bother her again, but I lost her in the crowd. Everyone was milling around in Halloween costumes.” He gulped more wine. “I never got a chance to speak with her.”

  Ruth frowned. “Why does it matter what Suzette did on Saturday night? Didn’t she go home that night? Wasn’t the accident the next morning?”

  Val felt six pairs of eyes on her, including Bram’s. “The costume Suzette wore Saturday night was in her room, so I assume she spent the night at our house. She usually jogged early in the morning. She was jogging when she was hit by the car.”

  “I just remembered something,” Morgan said. “When I drove Suzette to Bayport after our meeting last week, she kept turning round to check the rear window. She’d noticed a black car following her now and then. I thought she was paranoid, but after what happened to her . . . well, maybe she wasn’t.” Morgan turned to Casper. “You drive a black sedan, don’t you?”

  His pale face turned dark pink in an instant. “What’s that supposed to mean? Lots of people drive black cars. I don’t believe Suzette said anything about someone following her. You’re lying.”

  Val was tempted to defend Morgan against this accusation. Suzette’s routes home through backyards suggested she’d tried to shake someone following her in a car. On the other hand, Casper was right about the popularity of black cars. Val glanced at Wilson and wondered what color his car was.

  Morgan held out her hands, palms up. “Why would I lie?”

  “Maybe because you ran her over.” Casper stared at her with narrowed eyes. “You were always jealous of Suzette. She was beautiful, and you aren’t. She was a talented writer, and you aren’t. You killed her, and you’re trying to pin it on me.”

  So much for Val’s idea that he and Morgan would get together. Suzette still stood between them.

  Morgan’s lower lip trembled. “All I said was you drive a black car, which is true. Now you’re accusing me of lying and killing?”

  “Stop squabbling,” Ruth said. “It’s terrible what happened to Suzette. She was one of us. We should be supporting each other instead of fighting.” She turned to Val. “You seem to know more than we do about what happened to her. Was she in terrible pain? Did she suffer?”

  Val could offer some comfort on that point. “I believe she died when she hit the ground.”

  “That’s a blessing,” Ruth said.

  Morgan burst into tears. Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Maybe this meeting wasn’t such a good idea,” Gillian muttered. She went over to Morgan and tried to comfort her.

  Val left the CAT Corner to give Granddad a mission. She found him shelving books near the rear of the
shop. “Wilson, the guy who dressed like a zombie Saturday night, is wearing a bomber jacket tonight. When our meeting breaks up and he leaves the shop, can you follow him to his car? I want to know what color it is.” Casper might not be the only one here tonight who drove a black car.

  “Sure, but I’m not up for a long night of surveillance. If he goes barhopping, I’m peeling off.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t. If he has any more to drink, he’ll be a hazard on the road.” Val would push coffee on him and make the wine disappear even if she had to pour it down the drain.

  Chapter 16

  When Val returned to the CAT Corner, she saw that someone had put the wine out of sight. Morgan was red-eyed but calm. As Casper filled his mug with the last of the cider, Val put black coffee in front of Bram.

  She joined the group at the table. Gillian suggested they talk about what made Suzette memorable to them. The responses were what you might hear at any similar gathering—nothing ill spoken of the dead. Suzette was hardworking, talented, and considerate. Any hint of unfairness or injustice bothered her. She was dogged in pursuing her dream of being a writer.

  No one said she was fun to be with or had a terrific sense of humor. Val hadn’t seen that side of Suzette’s character either, maybe because that side didn’t exist. Had she been serious by nature or had a troubled life made her somber?

  Gillian adjourned the meeting and reminded the Fictionistas that she would host their final get-together at her house. Val wondered if any of them would attend.

  Casper hurried out of the CAT Corner. Wilson left with his aunt holding on to his arm, and Bram followed them from the room. Morgan asked for Val’s business card and drifted out. Only Gillian remained behind.

  “I’ll help you clean up.” She collected the mugs from the table. “I thought that a discussion of Suzette’s story might bring out strong feelings, but I underestimated the depth of those feelings.”

  “They were dealing with grief.” Val washed the dishes she’d piled into the sink earlier. “If people hold back their tears, their grief can erupt as rage. I found that out when my grandmother died. My brother was angry at himself for not visiting her more often, at fate for snatching her away, and at whoever went near him. At least he didn’t start a brawl like Wilson did.”

  “Suzette was a flash point for jealousy and rivalry before tonight. I’d hoped to convince myself that no one in our group had anything to do with what happened to her, and I wanted your take on that. Did you learn anything tonight that sheds light on Suzette’s death?”

  “I confirmed what I’d suspected—that Suzette was afraid of someone who was following her.”

  “Yes, following her in a black car. Casper’s car is black, and he admitted he was stalking her on foot.”

  Val wouldn’t have used that word to describe Casper’s actions. “Stalking implies a threat. He saw himself as watching over her, making sure Wilson didn’t accost her again.”

  “Even if that’s true, protection has a dark side—hemming in the person you’re protecting and infringing on her freedom to keep her from harm. The Phantom of the Opera protected the beautiful soprano and then, when he realized he couldn’t possess her, he turned violent.” Gillian put the mugs on the counter near the sink. “We only have Casper’s word for it that Suzette told Wilson to leave her alone. Wilson denied it.”

  “Of course he did.” His denial hadn’t convinced Val. “A good-looking man who’s had no trouble attracting females would be embarrassed to admit a woman spurned him. Not just embarrassed but angry, possibly enraged enough to harm Suzette. That’s what Casper feared and why he felt he should keep an eye on her.”

  Gillian went back to the table, looking distracted as she collected the napkins slowly.

  Val spotted Granddad motioning to her from the curtain that separated the CAT Corner from the shop. “Excuse me a second, Gillian.”

  Val pushed the curtain aside and joined Granddad at the back of the selling floor. “Did you see what kind of car Wilson has?”

  “A green BMW.”

  “What shade of green? Lime? Avocado?”

  “Darker than that. I’d call it evergreen.”

  A color that might be mistaken for black, especially at night. “Was his aunt with him?”

  Granddad nodded. “She stopped him from getting into his car with a warning about driving under the influence. He could be arrested, she said. He could crash his car and injure or kill someone. His life would be ruined, and her departed husband would never forgive her. She gave Wilson a choice—ride home in her car or walk with her until the alcohol got out of his system. Last I saw of ’em, they were strolling down Main Street, and she had a vise grip on his arm.”

  “Good for her. But how on earth did you hear all that?”

  “While they were standing near his car, I browsed in the antique shop window with my back to them. They never even noticed me.” Granddad tapped his ear. “I turned up the volume on my hearing aid. Luckily, there wasn’t much street noise, so I caught most of what they said.”

  Next best thing to planting a bug on someone. “Thanks, Granddad. You get tonight’s eavesdropping prize.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “When we get home, you’ll tell me why the car color matters.”

  “I will. See you later.”

  She pulled the curtain aside to return to the CAT Corner. Isis crept behind her and paused at the threshold. She usually slipped in and out without a delay. Maybe she was picking up negative vibes from the meeting that had just taken place there. Val held the curtain open until the cat ventured into the room.

  Gillian stood motionless near the table, staring into space. “I sense someone here tonight was involved in Suzette’s death.”

  Was Gillian’s sixth sense beaming messages to her?

  Isis darted across the room to the back door and meowed. Val opened the door. The cat inched forward, front paws out, back paws lagging behind.

  “Five seconds, Isis.” Val counted down. The cat took all her allotted time and then dashed toward the cemetery. Gillian still hadn’t budged. Time to bring her back to earth.

  Val picked up two corners of the tablecloth. “Would you help me fold this?”

  Gillian snapped out of her trance and grasped the other end of the tablecloth. “When I think about who’d have wanted to harm Suzette, Casper comes to mind first. He was fuming after our meeting a month ago when Suzette turned down a ride from him and went with Wilson.” She and Val folded the cloth lengthwise. “Casper shadowed her the night before she died and might have followed her in his car before then. Do you think we should tell the police?”

  Count me out. Val remembered how the chief had criticized her when she reached conclusions based on flimsy evidence. Gillian had no evidence at all, only guesses about Casper’s motives and actions. “Why point a finger at Casper? Wilson behaved worse and even got violent tonight. He changed the subject from the culprit in Suzette’s book to the culprit in the hit-and-run. He accused and attacked Casper. And, by the way, Wilson drives a dark car. Not that I’m saying he had anything to do with Suzette’s death.”

  “He doesn’t seem the type to obsess about a woman and follow her.”

  According to studies Val had read, people viewed attractive individuals as more trustworthy than unattractive ones. Gillian was no exception, giving the dishy dude the benefit of the doubt. Val had a different prejudice to overcome. Thanks to her handsome former fiancé, the cheating Tony, she had a bias against drop-dead gorgeous men like Wilson.

  She hung the folded tablecloth over the back of a chair. “I can’t reach any conclusions based on what I saw and heard here. Everyone was on edge tonight. If you give me their phone numbers, I’ll contrive a reason to speak to them, one on one.” And Granddad could do some research on them.

  “Thank you. I’ll e-mail you their contact information.”

  “Ruth and Morgan took my business card. They wanted to talk to me about catering. Following up with t
hem is a good excuse to call. And if I meet Ruth at her house, Wilson might be there.” Val remembered how Ruth had kept her nephew in check this evening with her canine commands. “Ruth seems to hold him on a tight leash.”

  “The hand that holds the leash controls the money. I got the full story when I helped her clean up after the meeting at her house.” Gillian dried the mugs as Val finished washing them. “Ruth married a rich older man. They were both widowed with no children. He died three years ago. His younger brother, Wilson’s father, had already passed away. Her husband’s trust made her the beneficiary with Wilson inheriting after her death. She promised her husband she’d keep his nephew out of trouble.”

  The terms of the trust gave Wilson a reason to hasten his aunt’s death, but did anyone have a reason to get rid of Suzette? “Ruth implied that Morgan was jealous of Suzette. Do you agree?”

  “Not jealous, but maybe slightly envious. You saw how Morgan cried tonight. That was real grief.” Gillian lined up the clean mugs. “Morgan’s the last person I can imagine committing a crime. She doesn’t break rules, much less laws. She holds herself and others to high standards.”

  “I noticed that when she nitpicked Ruth’s writing.” Finished with the cleanup, Val turned off the faucet. “I’m not sure how to get Casper to talk to me. I guess I can invite him for a drink.”

  “Meet him in a public place, and don’t act as if you have a romantic interest in him.” Gillian snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. Tell him I mentioned his interest in cryptozoology, and you want to know more about that. ”

  “Give me a hint what that is.”

  “The study of creatures like Bigfoot, the Yeti, and the Loch Ness Monster.” Gillian rolled her eyes. “It’s a pseudoscience.”

  Unlike the real science of her extrasensory perceptions? Val wiped down the counter. “Over the last few days, I’ve learned that Suzette’s life was complicated before she moved here. Some people she used to know had more reason to harm her than any of the Fictionistas did.”