Crouching Buzzard, Leaping Loon

by Donna Andrews

  “They'll never prove a thing. Hang on, I'm turning into the driveway – I don't want to sideswipe the landlord's bike again.“

  I parked the car and returned to our conversation as I descended the steep stairs into the Cave.

  “So what else is new?“ Michael asked as I checked the mailbox.

  “Oh, God, no,“ I muttered.

  “What's wrong?“ he said. “If you need to hang up and call the police – “

  “Nothing's wrong,“ I said. “Mother sent another package.“

  “Another decorating book?“

  “Odds are,“ I said, stuffing the package under my left arm so I could open the front door with my good right hand.

  “She's not still into faux finishes, is she?“ Michael asked, anxiously. “I really was worried that I'd come home last weekend to find she'd faux marbled the whole place.“

  “No, I convinced her that no amount of faux marbling would make the Cave look like anything other than a dank, underground hole.“

  “That's a relief.“

  “I did have a little trouble talking her out of the underwater grotto idea.“

  “Underwater grotto?“

  “Faux coral walls decorated with tasteful murals of seaweed and colorful marine life.“

  “But you did talk her out of it, right?“ he asked. “She doesn't still think it's a good idea?“

  “She may, for all I know. But after I told her what I thought about it, she hasn't spoken to me for nearly a week. I suppose the book's intended as a peace offering.“

  “What's it about?“

  “Hang on, I think I need my teeth to finish opening this,“ I said.

  “You'll break them if you aren't careful,“ he said.

  I didn't argue, partly because I was tired of arguing about the subject, and partly because I had a mouth full of packaging tape.

  “It's called Living Graciously in a Single Room,“ I announced when I'd spat out the tape.

  “At least she's getting practical,“ he said, chuckling. “Seriously, have you learned anything new since the last time we talked?“

  “Only that Dr. Lorelei thinks we should use our enforced separation to reevaluate our relationship,“ I said. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the couch with Mother's book, so I could leaf through it as we talked.

  “Lorelei Gruber? The radio shrink? How the hell did you run into her?“

  “She's one of the therapists we're sharing space with,“ I said. “You know her?“

  “In a way, though I doubt she remembers me fondly. I was one of the people who blew the whistle on her.“

  “Blew the whistle,“ I repeated with glee. “What was she doing?“

  “Ever heard that show of hers? The inaccurately named Lorelei Listens?“

  “Just; caught the tail end of it a few minutes ago,“ I said. “I can't exactly say I'm rushing to note the broadcast times on my calendar.“

  “That's good, because with any luck they'll be pulling the plug on her eventually. For using actors to call in with pre-rehearsed questions, instead of real callers.“

  “How did you figure that out?“

  “I recognized the voices of a lot of her callers as students of mine,“ Michael said. “A couple of the other drama professors and I filed a complaint last fall. It dragged on forever, but someone told me that she was going off the air at the end of the summer.“

  “Off the college station, anyway,“ I said. “She's going into national syndication.“

  “Oh, good grief,“ he said. “I wonder if whoever signed her knows about her credibility problems. Probably wouldn't care if they did. She'll probably move up to a TV talk show before we know it.“

  “Michael, this is great,“ I said.

  “You obviously weren't listening to that show of hers.“

  “No, I mean it's great, because we can use this to help Rob. One of the main reasons Chief Burke is so interested in Rob is that he thinks Ted was blackmailing him.“

  “Because of the note, right.“

  “So what if Ted were also trying to blackmail Dr. Lorelei? She obviously has a lot to be blackmailed about – which means she could have a really good motive for murder, not to mention the same means and opportunity Rob had.“

  “Hmmm,“ he said. “Maybe. How big was Ted?“

  I thought. “A couple of inches taller than me,“ I said. “Six feet – maybe as much as six-one.“

  “Physically fit?“

  “About average,“ I said. “On the skinny side, but no one would call him lean and muscular. Still, he could hold his own in the hallway Frisbee matches. Why?“

  “Given her size, it's not impossible, but still – strangling sounds more like something a guy would do than a woman. Especially if the victim is a little above average height and not physically impaired in any way. Wouldn't it take a lot of strength?“

  “The chief mentioned something about the killer stunning him with a karate chop to the larynx before strangling him.“

  “And he knows for certain it was a karate chop… how?“

  I laughed. “Good point,“ I said. “For all we know, the killer could have whacked him with some common desk object, like a phone receiver or a bookend or a three-hole punch. But I'm not entirely sure we want to discourage the chief if he thinks some martial arts expert was the killer.“

  “You're always quoting your teacher about how really good martial artists avoid violence. Why let the chief keep on looking for a martial arts expert?“

  “Because right now, he thinks Rob is a martial arts expert,“ I said. “As soon as he finds out Rob is a complete klutz, maybe he'll release him and investigate someone else. Yeah, I know it's ridiculous,“ I continued, a little more loudly, so he could hear me over his hoots of laughter, “but he saw Rob doing the Crouching Buzzard kata in the hallway, and now he's arrested him, because of the coincidence of the buzzard kata, purse fu, the shuriken, and the blackmail note. Which means it's all my fault he's arrested. Well, partly my fault; I didn't have anything to do with the shuriken and the blackmail note.“

  “Oh, brother,“ Michael said, and I suspected he was wiping tears from his eyes. “And you know Rob isn't in any hurry to let the chief know that he's not a martial arts master. Right now, he's probably enjoying being prime suspect.“

  “I'm sure he is,“ I said. “But sooner or later, he'll panic when he realizes the chief is serious. So I'd like to make sure the chief looks at some other people.“

  “And you're going to pick on anyone who's a martial arts expert.“

  “Maybe not,“ I said. “Apart from me – and I'm certainly no expert, even when I have both hands in good working order – Jack Ransom's the only other person I can think of who seems to have done any real martial arts training. And I don't know that he's an expert; he just doesn't seem quite so clueless as everyone else around there. Maybe I'll see if I can get the chief to pick on the other Bruce Lee wannabes.“

  “You have others, besides Rob?“

  “Tons of them,“ I said. “Mostly because of Rob. It's monkey see, monkey do around here; as soon as they see Rob's interested in something, they all jump on the bandwagon. Ever since Rob took up karate, they've all been trying to join studios, wearing gis, and waving around nunchaku and shurikens. That's probably where the shuriken the police found came from, anyway. It was probably just lying on the mail cart, nothing to do with the murder.“

  “Why do I not find that reassuring?“ Michael mused. “That you're spending your days in a place with lethal weapons just lying around on the mail cart? I don't suppose I could convince you to come out here after all?“

  “I thought you liked the idea of me staying here, keeping my eye open for a house.“

  “Oh? Have you had a lot of free time today for househunting? For that matter, have you had a lot of free time for anything since the minute you walked into that crazy place?“

  “It's bound to get better, now that we're in the new office,“ I said. “At least it wil
l once all the fallout from Ted's murder is over with. And then I might actually have time to read Living Graciously in a Single Room. Which isn't going to be as helpful as you'd think.“

  “Why not?“

  “Most of these single rooms are giant lofts with panoramic views of the Manhattan skyline or the San Francisco Bay. So much for Mother turning practical.“

  “At least she's trying.“

  “Trying too hard, if you ask me,“ I growled. I, flipped the book closed and added it to the two-foot-high stack of decorating books that we were using as an end table. If Mother didn't stop sending books soon, we'd have to start building a second end table. Or perhaps a room divider. I was beginning to dread checking the mail and finding yet another large, flat parcel, I thought – and that jogged my memory.

  “Hang on a second,“ I said. “I just remembered something I need to do first thing tomorrow; I want to jot it in my notebook.“

  “Things to do today,“ Michael intoned. “Number one, find a new receptionist. Number two, find Ted's killer.“

  “No way,“ I said. “I just want to remember to call the company that supplies the mail cart. The police impounded the one. we had, so I need to get them to bring over another one.“

  “So finding Ted's killer moves to number three.“

  “No way,“ I said.

  “I thought that's the whole reason you were there,“ he said. “To find out what's wrong in the company.“

  “And fat lot of good I've been at mat,“ I said.

  “You haven't figured out anything that could account for Rob's worrying?“

  “All I know is that if there's a problem here, it isn't financial,“ I said. “And I can't even take full credit for that; Mother did as much as I did.“

  “Your mother?“

  “I know everyone thinks she's a financial bantamweight, especially anyone who's seen her in action as a shopper, but she's actually pretty financially savvy.“

  “Yes, especially when it comes to telling other people what they should do with their money.“

  “Precisely,“ I said. “So after I'd looked over the books, I reminded her that any financial malfeasance at Mutant Wizards would ultimately reduce the dividends she received as a stockholder and got her to do the same thing.“

  “And she didn't find anything?“

  “A lot of potential money-saving ideas. She recommended against installing the mail cart, incidentally. Wish I'd had more success talking Rob out of it. And the lousy discount coffee is her fault; we'll be changing that as soon as I can manage it.“

  “But no financial irregularities.“

  “No, more's the pity,“ I said. “Finding and firing a crooked accountant would be a quick, painless fix.“

  “And now you have another mystery to solve,“ Michael said.

  “I'll leave that to Chief Burke,“ I said. “Like I said, all I want to do is give him enough reasons to keep investigating, instead of just latching on to Rob as the guilty party.“

  “Yeah, right,“ Michael said.

  Of course, if I was going to inspire the chief to expand his investigation beyond Rob, first I had to find the chief. Two hours into Tuesday, and he still hadn't returned to our office. Or returned any of my calls. Meanwhile I was stuck at the switchboard again.

  “We're so sorry,“ the lady from the temp agency said, when I called to report that the promised receptionist had not shown up. “It's just that – well, you had a murder there yesterday.“

  “Yes, I know,“ I said. “If your employees are worried about their safety, please reassure them that there's still a strong police presence here.“

  Of course, the last time I looked, the police presence was in one of the conference rooms playing Nude Lawyers from Hell and giggling, but the lady from the temp agency didn't need to know that.

  “Oh, I'm sure it's perfectly safe,“ the woman replied. “But – well, the only person we had available mis morning was Muriel, and she's rather timid – she said the idea of trying to work in a place where they'd just had a murder made her blood run cold.“

  “How long do you think it will take you to find a warm-blooded receptionist?“

  “We're working on it,“ the woman said. There was a pause.

  “Muriel did say that she might reconsider if we offered her double pay for hazardous duty.“

  “We want a receptionist, not an extortionist,“ I answered. “See if you can't find someone who'd love to get a first-hand look at a real crime scene. I'd be happy to give her a guided tour.“

  So I was punching the buttons on the console just a little harder than necessary and answering the phone in the very brittle, polite voice that any reasonable person would recognize as a red flag.

  Of course, why would any reasonable person call Mutant Wizards? I thought as I punched another blinking button.

  “And what did that poor switchboard ever do to you?“

  I glanced up to see Jack leaning against the wall by my desk.

  “Nothing,“ I said, smiling in spite of myself. “But I can't throttle the dozens of friends and relatives who keep calling to ask what's going on. The staff are another matter. If one more of them asks me what's going on…“

  “I'm trying to keep them busy,“ he said. “I realize you don't know any more than the rest of us do.“

  “Not quite true,“ I said. “I can make some deductions, based on reports from friends and relatives. The Caerphilly police are interrogating everyone who knows Rob. Probing them for any information they can get about his financial status, spending habits, college grades, sexual history and orientation, juvenile transgressions – everything.“

  “Maybe they're doing that to everybody,“ Jack said, frowning.

  “Caerphilly doesn't have that many police officers. There's only so much they can do. Of course, they did check on me; I gather it's not just in Dad's mystery books that the police are suspicious of the person who finds the body.“

  “Yeah, but with your injured hand…“

  “And what if I were faking an injury?“ I asked. “At least they did check with the hospital to make sure I was really injured. They looked at the X rays of my hand – Dad found that out from a radiologist he knows.“

  “You're more like your Dad than you like to admit,“ Jack said with a chuckle. “You sound almost pleased to have been a suspect, however briefly.“

  “That's not it,“ I said. “I just want to believe that they know what they're doing. And maybe enough of a feminist that I don't want to be overlooked just because I'm a woman. If it weren't for my hand, I could have strangled him just as easily as any man here. More easily than most, in fact. I'm pretty strong.“

  “So the chief took you seriously and you're happy.“

  “I'd be happier if Rob weren't the only one being investigated.“

  “You're sure?“

  “Except Ted, of course,“ I said. “They do seem to be paying a little attention to Ted.“

  “But not a lot,“ Jack said. “Or they'd be spending a lot more time talking to my team.“

  “At least they're not interfering with your team's work.“

  “What work?“ he said, shaking his head. “Everyone just wants to stand around talking about the murder. I think what happened didn't really sink in for some of them till today.“

  Jack returned to Cubeville. I noticed, when he left, that the place where he'd been leaning was showing signs of wear already, after only a week. Not so much from Jack leaning there, although he'd been doing that alarmingly often, but from everyone else imitating him. His other favorite leaning spots were also getting heavy use. Though why the wannabes bothered I didn't know. When Jack propped himself against a wall, tucked his chin in, and gazed at you from under his brow, he looked cool. And, yes, sexy. When the wannabes did it, they just looked as if they were imitating George. And large sections of the walls were starting to acquire that well-worn patina you usually see on the bottom foot or so of protruding corners in houses with large qu
antities of cats.

  I went back to fielding calls. Including another call from Rob.

  At least Rob wasn't hanging about waiting for me to reveal the murderer. He was home – if you could call the Pines home. And to judge by his tone of voice when he called, which he did about every five minutes or so, he was in a remarkably cheerful mood for someone around whom the net of a homicide investigation was slowly but inexorably closing.

  Probably because he was the center of a whirlwind of attention. Apparently, Mother had put the word out on the Hollingworth grapevine that her baby boy was in dire legal peril, and every attorney in the family had called him once or twice already. The criminal attorneys, of course, wanted to drop everything and fly to Rob's aid, while the prosecutors offered sage advice about how best to deal with their colleagues in Caerphilly. The far more numerous civil attorneys, frustrated at being denied a major role in the ongoing drama, all offered to come down and take Rob out to dinner. I foresaw good times ahead for Caerphilly's more expensive eateries.

  I wondered how long the local defense attorney I'd found would put up with the family interference. But I'd let Rob worry about that. Coping with the avalanche of attention seemed to occupy Rob's time rather fully, but it looked as if Mutant Wizards was carrying on just fine. In fact, did Jack look a little relieved not to have Rob underfoot?

  Ah well. As long as Rob was happy. And he was happy. Deliriously, relentlessly happy, which struck me as odd; usually the only time he was this happy was when he thought he'd fallen in love again. Strange that he would react this way to falling under suspicion.

  Or maybe not so strange, I realized, the fifth or sixth time he called to have me hunt down Liz. It dawned on me that he probably didn't realize that Liz's appearance at the police station had been motivated by her sense of corporate responsibility combined with my arm-twisting. He seemed to think she had rushed to his side for personal reasons. Well, he could do much worse. And often had. It had been a long time since Rob had fallen for anyone sane and likeable.

  I wondered what Dad was up to now. Probably still looking for evidence somewhere. When I arrived, he'd already been doing his best Sherlock Holmes imitation. Mainly examining every floor, wall, and desktop in the place from a distance of about four or five inches, with or without his trusty magnifying glass. He was probably still doing the same thing, someplace. When Sherlock Holmes went through this routine, he would usually produce a clue at some point. So far all Dad had managed was a couple of sneezing fits. At least he wasn't wearing his deerstalker hat. Though since he wasn't expecting to encounter a murder when he came up to Caerphilly, he had probably left the hat at home. And had probably called last night to ask Mother to mail it to him. With luck, the chief would have arrested the killer before the hat arrived.