“No worries, mate.” Detective Almond laughed at his little (very little) Australian humor. His smile faded when he saw none of us were laughing. “Look, there’s the hard way and the easy way. If we find something with Mr. Trent’s blood on it and his nephew’s fingerprints, that’s the easy way.”
“What’s the hard way?” Chase asked.
“I guess hoping he’ll do the right thing and turn himself in.” Detective Almond looked at me. “You work with him. Does he seem like the honorable type?”
“I’ll rip him from limb to limb,” Roger continued raving. “There won’t be a scrap of his stupid hide left when I get done with him. No woman will even look at him again.”
Obviously we were not only upsetting Roger but also provoking him into acts he probably wasn’t capable of doing. It seemed we all realized this at the same time that Mary showed up for a visit. Without much explanation as to why we were all in Roger’s hospital room, the four of us went into the hall and left her with him.
“He won’t turn himself in,” I said without any hint of doubt in my voice.
“Then whatever you can get for us will be better than nothing.” Detective Almond took his assistant medical examiner and left the hospital.
“In other words, it’s all up to us, as usual,” Chase said. “I’m glad I had those sixteen hours of training to be a police officer. This way I know exactly how to run a murder investigation.”
“Murder?” I looked at him. “Roger’s not dead. A little feeble maybe, and kind of slow on the uptake, but not dead.”
“I’m talking about Ross,” he explained as we left the hospital.
“Whoa, Perry Mason! How do you ever get anywhere? This is like a road map going from one place to another. But it doesn’t lead to Ross. It may have happened at the same time, but Henry isn’t a killer.”
“No?” He asked. We had reached the car, and he climbed in behind the steering wheel before continuing. “You know so much about him because he groped you a few times?”
“That and because I can knock him down,” I replied with confidence as I sat down in the passenger seat. “Henry is weasel enough to sneak up behind Roger and whack him a few times. No doubt. But whoever killed Ross wasn’t as sneaky. Two different people.”
“Care to make a wager on it? Because my Spidey sense is tingling and it’s telling me Henry has done all of this leading up to what he really wants to do. Note the words in red on his uncle.”
“No way. It was the other way around. Henry took advantage of what happened to Ross and everything else to get Roger. And yeah, I’ll put my money where my mouth is.”
“Not money. Let’s be creative.” Chase started the engine in the BMW and pulled into traffic. “If I win, I want a full body massage by Joan of Arc.”
I’m sure my face mirrored my disbelief in his wager. “I can’t believe you with that suit of armor. I never knew you had a metal fetish, Chase. But if that’s what you want, fine. I’ll have a very large hot fudge sundae with whipped cream, cherries, the works, served by a naked bailiff.”
“Anyone I know?” He grinned at me. “Don’t you think you should make it something unpleasant for me?”
“You didn’t make it something bad for me.” I smiled and leaned back in the seat. “Why should I be evil to you just because you’re wrong?”
“Done!”
We agreed on the bet, which started my brain working overtime to prove I was right. I’m nothing if not competitive. I always have been. Competing with Chase isn’t too bad. Either way, I seem to win.
“Don’t take any stupid chances.” He pulled the Beamer into the Village parking area for residents. “Take the two-way with you and make sure you keep it on my channel this time. I’ll have all the other security guys set up to come running in case something happens.”
“I won’t take any chances at all if I can help it,” I promised. “Although I don’t think Henry would hurt anyone, except Roger. I think he’d be afraid to take me on again.”
He shut off the car and turned to me, putting his hands on my arms. His eyes were so sincere. I loved him so much at that moment. “A little bit of self-defense can be a dangerous thing. Let the professionals handle it.”
“You mean after I find the evidence the professionals are worried they can’t find.” I played with the end of his dark braid, painting pretend mustaches on his face. “Don’t worry. I won’t take any chances. I’ll wait until Henry goes out for something, probably to chase some woman, then I’ll spring into action. There’s only the two of us there now. He can’t be everywhere.”
“Okay. I don’t like this, but I guess we’re going to do it anyway.” He kissed me for such a long time, I thought we were going to have to climb into the backseat for a few minutes. Finally he let me go and gave me the radio. “I love you, Jessie. Take care. If anything happens to you, I’ll kill Henry, then end up in a cell with a guy named Bubba for the rest of my life. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“Would we get conjugal visits?”
“No. You’d be dead, remember? Don’t let that happen.”
“You worry too much. Henry isn’t a killer.”
We parted at the gate. Several security guards met Chase there. There was always something he needed to do. It was a demanding job.
I stopped for a snack at the Monastery Bakery. Things were about the same there. Brother Carl was still playing the subservient role. He was scrubbing an oven when I ordered brioche and mocha. I smiled at him, but there wasn’t much I could do since he didn’t want to upset the applecart. Brother John was still lording it over him. You know, the more I saw Brother John, the less I liked him.
I walked with my snack through the street toward the Glass Gryphon thinking about how I was going to prove that Henry hadn’t killed Ross. Bart (always in his Death robe) dropped in beside me with a little wave of his huge hand. “Hello, lady.”
“Hi there. Brioche?” I held out the bread to him.
“No thanks.”
“I thought you were overhauling the employee files on the computer?”
“I was.” He made a face beneath his hood. “I am. What a mess! I shouldn’t have volunteered. People don’t think when they set up databases. Something like this can be important. No one cares. Just give them a few zombies after dark and they’re happy.”
“I know. I mean, what’s up with zombies after dark, right? They can come out whenever they want to. I’m surprised the Knave, Varlet, and Madman Guild hasn’t complained.”
“You’re funny.” He giggled. No joke. The giant giggled.
“I’m on my way to burn some glass,” I explained, keeping my secret assignment a secret. “Are you looking for victims to claim?”
He held out his scythe. “Yeah. They want me to haul in some dead souls a few times a day. Don’t ask me why. I’m a frightening mythological figure, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. Maybe that’s why they want you out when they think the zombies can’t be out.”
“That’s probably it.”
We’d reached the glass shop. I could see Henry inside with two Renaissance ladies visiting for the day. “I guess I better go. Good luck finding your victims.”
“Good luck to you, too, lady.” He smiled at me and waved. “There might be more frightening figures than me stalking the streets. Be careful where you walk.”
Nineteen
I thought about what Bart had said to me as I walked into the Glass Gryphon, maybe for the last time. My glassmaking skills were subpar, but if I could prove Henry had attacked Roger, that would be sweet.
Of course there was that bet with Chase to win. He was so wrong about Henry killing Ross. I had no idea who did the deed, but I knew it wasn’t Henry.
“There you are, Jessie.” Henry hailed me as soon as I stepped through the doorway. “I’m taking these two lovely ladies out for coffee. Think you can hold down the fort?”
One of the ladies giggled and adjusted her pearl headpiece. “Oh, Henry, you say
the smartest things! You’re a genius, really.”
I agreed generously to take care of the shop for him. What would be a better opportunity to snoop around some? “Go ahead. I’ll hang out here.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” He chucked my chin as he went by.
To think I found him even remotely attractive made my stomach turn. I was glad to see him and his two ladies hit the cobblestones.
I figured I could keep the shop open and still look around for the sage green glass rod. Not that many people were wandering in and out yet. It was still early.
I left the back door open and checked in the shed first. If Henry hadn’t burned the rod, he might’ve stuck it behind something until he could get to it. If he had burned it, there might still be some trace of it. I didn’t know whether that would help the police or not. For all of my years watching crime shows on TV, I couldn’t recall a case where a glass rod was the murder weapon. This might be a first, even though Roger wasn’t technically dead.
But there wasn’t a sign of green glass inside or outside the furnace in the storage building. I had barely finished looking when the front door opened for two witches with warts covering their faces. I was pretty sure the warts were real.
“We’re looking for a glass image of the devil,” the first witch told me. “Do you have anything like that here?”
I showed them the tortured demon/creature aisle, but that’s not what they were looking for. “Were these forged in the fires of hell?” the second witch asked.
“Not exactly, unless you call this hell,” I answered.
“I suppose it could do.” She glanced around, then kind of fluttered away to look at the aisle of mystical creatures.
“I don’t think we’re interested,” First Witch said.
“Maybe we are,” Second Witch disagreed. “Look at these centaurs!”
The two went on about how realistic they were until I thought I might toss both of them out of the shop. But they finally each bought one. I wrapped them up, processed Lady Visa, and shipped them out.
When I was alone again, I searched through Roger’s work area looking for the green glass. There was still no sign of it. It was depressing. Henry could have hid it anywhere. He could’ve heaved it out into the ocean or dropped it on a rock somewhere and smashed it into a gazillion pieces. I might never find it.
There was still no sign of him coming back from coffee. I drummed my fingers on my workbench and glanced toward the stairs going up to Roger’s apartment. Hmm. That was one place I hadn’t checked. Would Henry have been daring enough to hide the weapon he’d used on his uncle right in his own living space?
Because he didn’t strike me as being particularly bright, I ran for the stairs. I didn’t think he’d recognize the irony of hiding the glass upstairs, but I thought he’d do it without thinking.
Roger’s apartment was clean and neat. Everything that could be folded was folded. Not a spoon or cup was out of place in the kitchen. No wonder Mary loved him. Chase is neat but not over-the-top about it. I like that about him.
I checked out the tiny sitting area and kitchen. No luck. I moved into the bedroom, which was reminiscent of military movies. Roger didn’t throw his clothes around either. Not even a dirty pair of socks hanging in the bathroom. A paragon.
I climbed under the bed and found only a few old photos of Roger in his heyday as a police officer. He wasn’t half-bad-looking. Not that I’m attracted to the law enforcement type (except for Chase, of course, and he’s not real law enforcement).
I heard a noise downstairs, and I shoved the photo book back under the bed (no dust bunnies either). I straightened my shirt and tried to think of plausible excuses why I could be upstairs. I burned myself and was looking for a bandage. Or I heard a sound upstairs and went to find out if there was a problem.
I heard a footstep on the stairs and my heart beat double time to match the military mode around me. None of those excuses made any sense. I panicked. What if Henry took one look at me like I’d looked at him yesterday and realized why I was really up here? What if the jig, as they say, was up, and I was left standing here with stupid excuses he wouldn’t believe?
The footsteps came farther upstairs. I looked around the room like a cornered animal. What was I going to say? What would he do? I’d promised Chase I wouldn’t get killed. He was going to be ticked if he thought I’d lied to him.
Why doesn’t he call my name? What is his game?
I sneaked into the kitchen and looked for knives or something to defend myself with. The biggest knife I could find was a butter knife. The next possible weapon was a wooden salad tong that looked kind of deadly, if you were a piece of pottery.
The door to the apartment opened into the kitchen. I stood with my back to the sink, wondering if I could still contact Chase in time to make any difference. We might be the whole length of the Village apart. He couldn’t get to me in time and would have to listen to my dying screams on the two-way radio. A horrible way to go but worse for the one left behind, consumed with guilt and wracked with despair.
“Jessie?” Henry smiled when he saw me. “I thought you were up here. Had to use the john, right?”
Why didn’t I think of that? It was ingenious. “Yeah. That’s right. It was either that or I might not have made it to the next privy, if you know what I mean. That breakfast just didn’t sit right with me.”
“You shouldn’t leave the doors open when you have to come up here.” He looked around the empty apartment. “It just isn’t the same without Uncle Roger here.”
Before he had a chance to get truly pretend maudlin, the shop door rang downstairs. Thank God. If I’d had to hear how much he cared for Roger, I would’ve been sick. “Sounds like a customer. Race you down there.”
I ran past him and waited on the young couple who’d come in to scope out the place. I could tell they didn’t have much money, so I gave them a deal on a little blue dragon. Everyone needs a souvenir and I was feeling particularly generous, being alive and all.
“Have you tried your hand yet this morning on your fairy or whatever you were working on yesterday?” Henry looked around at my workbench when we were alone again. “I know Uncle Roger would’ve been excited to see how well you’ve been doing.”
“He’s not dead, Henry,” I reminded him as I switched on my torch. It was fun watching him jump away from the flame. “He’ll be back.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He strolled toward his workbench with a demonic smile on his handsome face. “I told you about the psychology of the problem. I don’t imagine Uncle Roger will be back, Jessie.”
I picked up my work from yesterday, deciding not to argue the point. I looked at my fairy/butterfly. The colors were good, and I could tell it was something with wings. The rest was kind of a blur. I wondered if I could layer eyes on it, maybe a little red for the mouth. If it was going to be a fairy, it would also need legs. Clear legs, I guessed, since there were no flesh-colored glass rods to shape.
“Hey, did you ever find that sage-colored rod?” I decided I could question him without him realizing I was questioning him. “I sure wish I had it for my fairy’s dress.”
“Nope. Sorry.” He was brief, immersed in his own work.
“Whoever attacked Roger didn’t even steal his wallet. It doesn’t make sense that someone would attack him yet not steal anything, does it?”
“I don’t understand the criminal mind,” he said finally after a few long moments. “Maybe whoever did it had a motive other than theft.”
“Like what?” I glanced up at him. Maybe I could get him to give himself away. Okay, not to the extent that he’d try to kill me. Just enough so I’d understand what his motive was.
“I don’t know. He’s always talking about his past. Maybe one of the people he put in jail found him and wanted to get rid of him.”
“But that’s just the thing,” I argued. “Whoever attacked Roger didn’t get rid of him. Ross was killed but not Roger.”
Henry
looked up at me through his goggles. “Ross?” “Death. The first figure of Death. Not Bart.”
“Just because Uncle Roger was spared doesn’t mean his attacker didn’t want to kill him. Maybe he didn’t have time.”
“There was no one there when I found him. It’s not like I scared the bad guy off or anything. Wouldn’t he have still been there when I got there?”
“Maybe he heard you coming.”
“And what do you think he used to beat Roger so badly? Whatever it was, it was different than what killed Ross.”
“You sound like you know something about it,” Henry scoffed. “I know you were there, Jessie, but sleeping with Chase doesn’t make you a cop.”
He was rattled. I could tell. I wasn’t sure where to go from there. If I kept pushing his buttons, he might say something he’d regret. Or he’d chase me around the room with his torch. Either way, I’d have my answer.
A short older man wearing a neat two-button suit came into the shop. He didn’t look like the usual visitor (if there is such a thing), but he smiled at Henry, who promptly dropped the glass dancer he’d been creating. The shattering glass broke the silence between them.
“Hello, Henry. How’s it going?”
“Lou. I wasn’t expecting to see you today. We should talk out back.”
“We should.” The man nodded politely in my direction as Henry ushered him out the back door while he tried to remove his work apron.
I gave them a minute, then crept to the open door to listen. The sounds of William Shakespeare spouting his newest ode mingled with the cries of the wraiths as they strutted through the Village. The Lovely Laundry Ladies called out to visitors as they passed by. Fred the Red Dragon roared at some kids dressed like vampires.
I listened for the sound of Henry’s whining voice as he spoke to Lou behind the glass shop. “Listen, you know I’m good for it.”
“I know what you’re good for, my friend,” Lou said. “It ain’t thirty Gs.”
“I know it’s a lot but things are finally going my way now. I had a horse that came in second place yesterday.”
Ghastly Glass Page 21