The Scarlet Suit Murder
Page 6
“Can you put the rest of the puzzle pieces together? Because they’re a big jumbled mess right now,” I grumbled as a flicker of discovery gleamed in the pilot’s eyes.
“Oh no, not Christine. No, how could she do this?!” Charles groaned.
“Why did she do it? That’s the question. And I know you have the answer,” I insisted.
The anger had drained from Charles’ face, replaced with an expression of sheer horror and sorrow. “Robin and I…” he faltered.
My eyes bulged as I whispered, “You and Robin?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. Let me just say it. It’s been killing me anyway. I had hoped that Christine wasn’t responsible, but I had this nagging feeling that she was…” Charles trailed off and reprised his confession in a stronger voice. “Christine and I had a little fling. Nothing serious. Or at least I didn’t think so. But she wanted something more serious with me. She was still trying to get me back when I started seeing Robin…”
“You were involved with Robin?!” Annalise exclaimed, as I felt mild relief that I hadn’t been the only one in the dark about that affair too.
“I was in love with Robin,” Charles corrected. Recalling his shell shock the morning I announced her death, I believed with every fiber of my being that he was telling the truth. “With Robin, it was different. We were making plans for the future. She wanted to quit the airline so we could go public with our relationship and not hide it because of some stupid corporate policy. But we never had the chance…” He shook his head with despair.
“So Christine found out that you were seeing Robin and she got jealous?” I tried to fill in the blanks.
“Yes. But I never thought Christine would resort to murder. I didn’t think she had it in her. But who else would have done this?”
“Okay, so let’s get this all straight. I think everyone in this room believes that Christine laced Robin’s drink with antifreeze, right?” Charles and Annalise nodded their affirmation. “And then she snuck into my apartment and suffocated Robin while she was sleeping?”
“Oh what a nightmare!” Charles howled.
“It is a nightmare,” I said grimly. “There’s one thing I don’t understand, though. Why did you care that Stavros was involved with Christine?”
“Because she did it just to get back at me. She flaunted it. But there was no love there. It wasn’t like what I had with Robin…”
“But still, why did you jump into a taxi and follow him?” I pursued, still finding it incongruous.
“Just to tell him not to show his face on one of my flights again. That I think he’s trouble waiting to happen. One female passenger has already issued a complaint against him for hitting on her. That was a small part of the agenda at the meeting. The airline may have a sexual harassment lawsuit on its hands now in addition to all the other problems. Of course, Stavros didn’t care. Rather than admit anything, he told me that you were the one I should be worried about, Natalie.”
“And then he told you about the restraining order he filed?” I guessed.
“Correct,” Charles confirmed.
“He really is a scumbag,” I mumbled. A ray of light burned into my mind as I asserted, “A scumbag and an accessory to murder!”
Chapter 10
Three fists banged against the door of Christine’s apartment as Charles, Annalise and I aimed to ambush our criminal coworker. Hopefully, she would succumb to peer pressure and confess because Detective LeRoi was on his way. Annalise had been the one to place the call to the detective, as the man wouldn’t believe me if I told him the earth is round.
I felt like I had built a house out of Lincoln Logs, and I couldn’t let a windstorm destroy it. Charles, Annalise and I had agreed on the taxi ride over that we wouldn’t leave until we had wrangled a solid confession out of Christine. Additionally, we were going to find out Stavros’s exact involvement in the whole tragedy. Instinctively, I felt that Stavros had only dated me because Christine had urged him to do so. He had taken me to the Eiffel Tower that night simply so that Christine would have a chance to sneak into our apartment and suffocate Robin.
The door swung open and slammed shut in a single shattering instant. I grimaced, recognizing the sneering face of Stavros immediately. So now he was getting cozy at Christine’s apartment? Well let the lovebirds enjoy their last few minutes of freedom.
Angrily, Charles pummeled the door, even more determined to get in after glimpsing his ex-lover’s new squeeze. “Christine, I know you’re in there!” He barked.
Looking innocent as apple pie, Christine opened the door, smoothing out her tousled blond hair. “What are y’all doing here? You should have called first.”
Boldly, I grabbed Christine by the wrist and pulled her into the hallway so that Detective LeRoi would be in earshot when she leaked her confession. “We need to talk to you,” I said urgently.
“Just what is going on?” She huffed. “You can see that I have company.”
“You mean Stavros?” I clucked. “The man I was dating?”
“Now Natalie, you need to move on, sweetheart. He already told me about the restraining order. I wouldn’t want to see you behind bars. He’s dating me exclusively now and you’ll just have to accept that,” she condescended as I shook my head at the irony.
“Did you see the autopsy results?” Charles jumped in.
“No,” Christine replied flatly, tapping her stocking foot on the floor with impatience.
“The report was very enlightening,” Charles gritted.
Ganging up on her, Annalise added, “We know you did it, Christine.”
Christine’s face reddened, but she made no other display of discomfiture. “Are you accusing me of murder, Annalise?”
“We all are,” Charles replied darkly.
“Why on earth would you think I murdered that sweet girl?” Christine queried, lacing her Southern accent with an extra helping of sugar.
“Don’t play stupid. Annalise and Natalie already know about my fling with you,” Charles said as Christine’s eyes glittered maliciously. “And they also know about my relationship with Robin.”
“And what did you tell them, Charles? That you’re so irresistible? That I was so infatuated with you that I committed murder? And those stupid girls believed you?!” Christine mocked Charles as she issued her denial. “Stavros is more of a man than you are,” she added meaningfully. “I don’t miss you at all, Chuck. And I didn’t murder Robin.”
For a second, I wondered if Christine was telling the truth. She seemed sincere in her conviction. But if she didn’t murder Robin, then who did? Stavros couldn’t have physically committed the act, as he was with me all night. And what would his motive have been anyway? Confused, I looked Christine square in the eyes and noted that she didn’t blink once. Recalling her initial reaction to Robin’s demise, I felt that she had exhibited a theatrical blend of emotions. But perhaps her grief had been real?
“I don’t have to stand here, in the doorway of my apartment, and be treated this way! Stavros won’t be the only one filing a restraining order if y’all don’t leave!” Christine shouted.
“Christine, we know about the antifreeze,” Charles said solemnly.
“You know about the what?” She asked, blank-faced.
“The antifreeze that you slipped into the rum and Coke you made for Robin on the plane!” Charles clarified as Christine gasped.
“I didn’t make a drink for Robin! And I would never serve alcohol to one of the stewardesses. That’s against company policy and just plain dangerous!” Christine protested as I gazed at her, more perplexed than ever.
“But Annalise said…” I began.
“Annalise!” Christine cried. “You’re the one who gave Robin a drink before takeoff. But you said it was just a soda. I didn’t know you put rum in it! Shame on you!”
With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I glanced over at Annalise. Her face was unreadable. “Annalise?” I gasped. “Christine is lying, isn’t she?”
&nb
sp; Charles looked stricken as he added, “Yes, Annalise, please tell us this isn’t true.”
As Annalise remained silent, Christine continued, “Let me get this straight. Robin was given a drink that had antifreeze in it. That’s why she was feeling so sick on the plane and that’s why she died?”
“No, ultimately, she died of asphyxiation,” I whispered. “Someone came into our apartment and suffocated her to death.”
“Annalise, was it you?” Charles asked in horror.
Annalise’s silence spoke a thousand words as I realized in that moment that my hostess in Paris, the soft spoken, hospitable French girl, had killed my best friend. But why? Christine’s motive would have been clear, but Annalise’s was a complete mystery.
Furthermore, if Annalise truly had killed Robin, then Stavros might not be an accessory to murder after all. Maybe he was avoiding me simply because he didn’t like me or because he believed I was guilty of murder and didn’t want to corroborate the alibi of a criminal. I sighed heavily, all my theories and guesswork crashing to the ground in a heap of wreckage. Annalise was the last person in all of France who I would have suspected of murdering anyone, let alone Robin.
“Annalise, did you do it?” I pressed, knowing she would never confess as she knew that Detective LeRoi was lurking nearby.
“Why would I kill Robin? Christine is the one with the motive,” Annalise replied in a monotone.
“You call Charles a motive?” Christine laughed. “Maybe in his egotistical little mind. Sure, I wanted more out of our relationship when I was with him, but I wouldn’t risk my freedom over any man! Especially when there are so many men out there…” She leaned back against Stavros who wrapped his arms protectively around her waist and glared at the trio of us.
“Why did you lie, Annalise?” I asked desperately. “Why did you even mention the drink if you were the one who prepared it?”
“To push the attention and suspicions towards Christine, I would guess,” Charles replied decisively. “Annalise already knew about my relationship with Christine, so she took advantage of the knowledge to make her look guilty.”
“But why?” I croaked. “Why Annalise?”
“Why what?” She snapped. “I haven’t admitted to anything!”
“Don’t tell me it was because of Mr. Irresistible over here!” Christine joked bitterly. “You were in love with Chucky too, right?” She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, frothy with mirth at the pilot’s expense.
If passion and jealousy weren’t motives, then what was? Annalise came from a wealthy family and Robin had no money, so finances couldn’t be the reason either. Suddenly, another sinister thought dawned on me. “Were you afraid of losing your job, Annalise?” I asked.
“Huh?” She muttered.
“Charles was talking about how the airline hasn’t been doing well. Were you trying to get your competition out of the way?”
Annalise stared down at the muted beige carpet, her countenance sullen but stubborn. Somehow, I felt I was on the right track. To my surprise, Charles interjected, “Did you overhear my phone conversation back in New York before we boarded the flight that Robin got sick on?”
“What phone conversation?” Annalise asked casually, but her face betrayed mounting panic.
“The conversation I had with HQ about letting one of the stewardesses go. I said that it would probably be you, and you heard that, didn’t you?”
“Annalise was going to be fired? I thought you said management was trying to keep everyone on board! Or just downsize Christine!” I exclaimed.
“For the most part. But the decision to fire Annalise was an easy one, ethically, because we all knew that she doesn’t need the money,” Charles replied frankly.
“My parents are rich, not me!” Annalise burst out. “You think I want to live with them for the rest of my life?! No! I’m so tired of everyone thinking I’m a spoiled little rich girl! I want to work! I want to have my own life! No one is going to fire me!” Her eyes shone with the hazy light of insanity as I wondered if she had simply snapped and decided to kill Robin. Or did Annalise have pre-existing psychological problems that she had successfully hidden from everyone under the guise of warmth and amiability? She certainly wasn’t behaving like a psychologically sound person, and her motive for murder was too weak for anyone truly stable.
“Is that a confession I hear?” Christine ridiculed.
“It’s not anything you hear, Christine! You should just be glad to be alive,” Annalise muttered under her breath, implying that the choice to kill Robin had been arbitrary. Annalise could just as easily have murdered Christine or me in her quest to eliminate professional competition. The thought was horrifying.
As the sickening reality hit me, Detective LeRoi emerged from down the hall. “I’m going to need to have a word with you, Mademoiselle. Down at the police station,” he said sternly as Annalise bowed her head resolutely, appearing to surrender.
Within an instant, the petite mousy Annalise was flying down the hallway at breakneck speed. Detective LeRoi bolted after her, quickly cornering her as she tripped down the staircase and landed on her knees. I watched with astonished horror as he handcuffed her, roughly leading her away.
“This is crazy,” I whispered, glancing sheepishly at Christine.
“Next time, do your homework before you accuse an innocent woman of murder,” she scolded resentfully. “And don’t believe the stories of a self-centered, ego maniac fool.” She glowered at Charles who looked sheepish.
“Annalise went off the deep end,” I whispered, unable to believe that she was the murderer and sensing that the story was still partially untold.
I was sure that Christine would never forgive any of us for wrongly accusing her of murder. And who could blame her? But she wouldn’t be a part of my life for much longer anyway, and neither would anyone from Paris Rouge Airlines. With more certainty than I had ever felt in my life, I knew that I was going home to Pennsylvania to start my good old life anew.
Epilogue
Two Months Later
Skytop, Pennsylvania
Winds whipped through the mountains and provided balm for my spirit. The air is always thin in the towering mountains, but I could breathe as crystal clearly as the azure sky above me. I adjusted the shoelaces of my hiking boots, probing deeper into the wilderness and feeling more rejuvenated with every step I ventured.
Comfortably settled into a new apartment in the Poconos, my time at Paris Rouge Airlines seemed like little more than a bad dream. Robin’s death, however, would forever be real. I missed her dearly and reflected on her daily. After Annalise’s arrest, the final piece of the puzzle had snapped into place. According to carefully sealed medical records, Annalise had suffered from various psychiatric conditions, including Narcissistic Personality Disorder, since her privileged Parisian childhood. Annalise’s filthy rich financier father had paid off a human resources recruiter at Paris Rouge Airlines not to run a background check on his daughter. Otherwise, Annalise never would have been hired…and Robin never would have died. Medications had treated the disorders for most of Annalise’s young life, but at the time of Robin’s murder, she had become lax in taking her required doses.
It deeply troubled me that I had never so much as suspected that Annalise was mentally ill. In fact, everyone who worked with her was equally shocked and disillusioned to learn of her diagnoses. According to some informal research I had conducted, people with Annalise’s disorders were often charming, deceptive…and incredibly volatile. I couldn’t change the sad fact that my best friend was gone forever. But I could do something special to honor her memory.
Smiling up at the horizon, I thought about the approaching grand opening of my cozy bed and breakfast in Skytop. By autumn, my quaint 4-suite inn would be fully operational and hopefully welcoming guests from all around the country. After all, who wouldn’t want to vacation at a slow paced, friendly, rustic little bed and breakfast called Robin’s Nest?
***
*BONUS SECTION*
10 FIRST CLASS FRENCH RECIPES
TURN THE PAGE TO BRING A LITTLE
FRENCH FLAVOR INTO YOUR KITCHEN!
Recipe #1
Soupe à l’Oignon
(French Onion Soup)
1 tbsp butter
4 large onions, sliced
4 cups vegetable stock
4 slices French bread
2 cups shredded Swiss cheese
Grated Parmesan cheese
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Melt butter in a skillet. Add onions and sauté. Pour broth on top of onions; simmer. Place bread on cookie sheet and sprinkle with Swiss cheese. Toast bread until cheese is melted. Pour soup into 4 bowls. Place a cheesy bread on top of each bowl. Sprinkle Parmesan on top. Grab some spoons and dig into this wonderful French comfort food!
Recipe #2
Quiche aux Crevettes
(Shrimp Quiche)
1 frozen, prebaked pie crust
2 tbsp cooking oil
1/3 cup sliced shallots
½ pound clean, cooked shrimp
½ cup heavy cream
½ cup milk
3 eggs (organic, cage-free)
½ cup grated Gruyère cheese
Pinch nutmeg
Salt & pepper to taste
Heat oil in a skillet. Sauté the shallots, then add the shrimp. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and cook, stirring frequently. Sprinkle half of the grated Gruyère over the bottom of the crust. Spread the shrimp and shallots over the cheese, and sprinkle remaining cheese. Whisk the cream, milk, and eggs in a bowl. Stir in nutmeg, salt and pepper. Pour the egg mixture over the mushrooms and cheese in the crust. Bake at 350°F for 35 minutes. Cool and enjoy this French seafood delight!
Recipe #3
Quiche aux Champignons
(Mushroom Quiche)
1 frozen, prebaked pie crust
2 tbsp cooking oil