by Elaine Macko
“Sorry. I forget sometimes we’re grownups.”
“Make an effort. That hurt,” I pouted and then laughed knowing how ridiculous I must look.
“What else are we going to do today besides eat croissants and chocolate?” Sam asked.
I sighed. “I’m sure there’s another museum, actually a whole slew of them, but we did that yesterday. I do want to go to Bruges, but I think we best wait for the men. And I want to go to Antwerp and look at diamonds. I never did get an engagement ring. But I guess I need John for that, too. Cherbourg in France is on my list. I would love to see some of the beaches of World War II fame, but I have a feeling we won’t get there this trip,” I said. “There’s just so much to do, but actually, I’d like to talk with Wanda about what I overheard on Saturday.”
“I wondered how long it would take you to get around to murder.”
“Aren’t you curious? I mean, we’re in Europe, for goodness sake, the site of all those Miss Marple movies.”
“That’s England. This is Belgium. Though I think they have their own sleuth, Hercule Poirot or something,” Sam said. “Both are Agatha Christie so I guess it’s the same. Belgians have their very own fictional character named Maigret.”
“Fine. Then I can be Madam Maigret.”
“You know, Madam, this is not Indian Cove where you have your very own police detective to get you out of trouble. The Belgian authorities might not be so understanding at having an American poking her nose into their investigation. We might get arrested and have our passports confiscated and then we’ll be stuck here.” Sam took the last bite of her croissant and licked her fingers. “On second thought, I might be able to get used to living here. I wonder if they serve these things in prison. Lead on, Madam Maigret!”
Chapter 10
A half hour later I sat behind the wheel of the little Escort. The thought of Sam driving in Belgium with priority to the right and speed limits resembling the Indy 500, took away any apprehension I had about driving in a foreign country.
In no time at all and with no mishaps, we found ourselves in front of Wanda’s house. The pink plastic flamingos were still on the lawn where they had been the first time we came to the house. Wanda had explained it was an “Ohio” thing and it made her feel less homesick.
“Do you think we should have called first?” Sam asked.
“Probably, but I don’t think she’ll mind. If I know anything about finding a body or having one in close proximity, and I do, I would imagine right about now she’ll be very happy indeed to see us.”
I parked the little car in the gravel driveway and we went to ring the bell.
“Alex. Sam. Oh, no! Did I forget something? Was I taking you out today?” Wanda asked all aflutter.
“No. No. Not at all.” I patted Wanda’s gloved hand in an attempt to calm her down. “We thought you might need some company today.”
Wanda gave a relieved sigh. “How nice. Come in. I couldn’t sleep very well and I’ve been up since dawn so some company would be nice. I got most of the after-party clean up done yesterday but I didn’t have the nerve to go into the bathroom and besides, the police were here most of the day doing God knows what. They said they were done, so I guess I can clean in there today.” Wanda rubbed her hands together making a squeaking noise with the gloves. “I feel so responsible.”
“You. But why?” I asked. “It wasn’t your fault in any way.”
“It’s the bathroom, you see.”
I ran a hand through my short hair. I had had it cut and professionally highlighted for the wedding and with all the running around we were doing, I was thankful, for once in my life, it was short and easy to care for. “Well, no, I don’t see, Wanda. What does the bathroom have to do with anything other than being the scene of the crime?”
“I insisted, I mean really insisted we take this house because of the bathrooms.”
I cut my eyes to Sam wondering if Wanda might be having some sort of nervous breakdown.
Wanda waved her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense. We took this house because it had huge bathrooms, you see. Even the one downstairs was big, with a large sink and medicine cabinet and all. For guests, you see. And, well, Belgian homes usually just have a small room with a toilet and a cold-water sink. It’s usually located in the entry hall. For the guests, you see” she repeated.
“So what does this have to do with the price of beans,” Sam asked while I nudged my sister’s arm. Hard.
“If we just had a smaller room, like everyone else, well, two people would never have been able to fit into it and maybe the killer wouldn’t have been able to kill Martine.” Wanda’s eyes pleaded for understanding.
I noticed how bird-like Wanda looked. A very fragile bird. “Oh, Wanda. You can’t blame yourself. Whoever did this obviously wanted Martine dead. I mean, this wasn’t an accident by any means and if it wasn’t in your bathroom then it would have been someplace else.”
“Do you think so, Alex? It probably would have happened anyway, maybe upstairs.” Wanda turned and started to walk away. “Damn, I can’t get these gloves off. I can’t find my usual pair and these are really stiff.” Wanda gave the rubber gloves a good pull and they popped off. She ushered us into the kitchen and dropped the gloves in the trash. “I don’t usually wear these things except for a few gritty jobs. They last me for some time but I’ll be damned if I know what happened to the other set. Oh well. I was just about to have some coffee. Join me. Oh, Alex, you would prefer tea, wouldn’t you? Or maybe some pop? I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Tea is fine. Thanks. Wanda, we’re so sorry. We never got a chance on Saturday night to express our condolences. I’m sure Martine’s death must be very upsetting for both you and Bill. I don’t mean because she died here but because she worked with Bill for so long.”
“Alex and I have an assistant and well, if anything ever happened to Millie, God forbid, we’d be, well, I don’t even want to think of such a thing. We love Millie. Not only is she an employee, but a valued friend,” Sam said and she was right. I couldn’t imagine our business without Millie. The three of us just worked so well together.
“Martine wasn’t a friend. I feel very badly for her family and Paul, and the fact it happened here will haunt me forever, but other than that it doesn’t seem to be affecting me at all.” Wanda fingered a paper napkin and then looked up at us. “Really. I’ll be fine.”
Sam and I exchanged glances over the kitchen table. Wasn’t this the same woman who not a moment earlier was having a breakdown over the size of her bathroom and feeling so responsible?
“Maybe it just hasn’t hit you yet,” I said. “With all the commotion, you probably haven’t had a chance to even think about it except in terms of putting things back to normal.”
“No. It’s a hard thing to come to grips with, having someone murdered in your home, but Martine meant nothing to me.” Wanda shrugged. “You see, I think Bill was having an affair with her.”
Chapter 11
“An affair? Wanda, you can’t be serious. Surely you’re mistaken,” I replied to the bombshell Wanda had just dropped at our feet.
“Am I? Oh, you’re right, Alex. I’m sure I’m wrong. What’s the matter with me?” Wanda abruptly laid her head on the table and then just as abruptly looked up again. “I guess I had better explain.”
“It’s really none of our bus—” Sam kicked me under the table so I said, “Maybe it would help you to feel better.” I admit it; I really wanted to hear what she had to say as much as Sam.
Wanda got up to get another cup of coffee and brought the entire pot to the table. “Bill had an affair with his secretary when we lived in Germany. It didn’t last long, but well, I guess I still haven’t gotten over it. I want to trust him, I do, really, but he’s been working such long hours and he’s never home.”
“Maybe you should talk to him,” Sam volunteered. “If I suspected Michael of cheating, you better believe I would talk to him, and fast. Of course
this would be while he was recuperating in the hospital after I broke his arms and legs and rearranged a few vital organs.”
This last statement, though true, got the desired effect and Wanda laughed. “Speaking of which, where are your husbands?”
I explained about John helping the police and Michael’s rendezvous with Wanda’s dentist.
“Sam’s right, though, Wanda. You need to speak with Bill. He may very well be working late. It is his business after all, and take it from us, when it’s your own, you take it very seriously. We worked many a long night putting the business before our relationships. It can be tough.”
“You’re right. I’ll talk with him tonight. It’s probably exactly as he says. He’s just overworked.”
“Good. Wanda, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Sure, Alex. What is it?” Wanda looked at me and smiled, her front teeth sticking out just a tad, giving her the bird look again.
“While I was sitting on the patio on Saturday afternoon I overheard you and Donna speaking in the kitchen. She sounded upset because you invited Martine to the barbecue.”
“Yes, she would be. You see, Doug did have an affair with Martine. So you can see why I can so easily think Bill may be having an affair with her as well. I know she’s capable of it.”
“My goodness.” Sam reached for the coffeepot and poured herself another cup.
“Donna was furious with me for inviting Martine. The affair’s been over for about two years and it only lasted about a month, but they still work together and it’s always in the back of Donna’s mind.”
“I guess it would be.” I wondered how I would handle the situation if I knew John had been intimate with a female member of the force. “Knowing about this, why did you invite Martine?”
Wanda absently stirred her coffee. “Well, I didn’t exactly. Bill did.”
Sam had her chin resting in her hand. “Forgive me but that seems a bit insensitive for him to do to his partner.”
“Not really. Bill doesn’t know about the affair. Donna asked me not to tell Bill and I never have.”
“He never suspected?” I asked.
“If he did, he never said anything to me. I doubt he knows, though. Those aren’t the kinds of things Bill notices. And, I’m sorry to say, if he did know, it would be all the more reason for him to invite Martine. He would get great joy antagonizing his partner, I’m afraid.”
“You mean they don’t get along?”
Wanda shook her head vigorously, her dark brown hair caught up in a ponytail slapping against the side of her face. “No, they don’t. And the truth is I’ve never been quite sure why. You’ve seen Bill. Along with his large size, he’s got a steamroller personality to go along with it. He and Doug have very different styles. He’s quite forceful with his clients and Doug is…I’m not sure of the word. I think Bill has always thought of Doug as being a pushover. Doug pays more attention to his clients and seems to let them guide their investments whereas Bill feels people come to him for his input and he tells them what to do rather than asks them what they want. Both he and Doug the job done, though, just from a different angle.”
I sat there thinking from what Wanda told us Bill might very well come off as a bully where Doug seemed to give his clients more counseling. If given the choice, I had a feeling I would prefer to work with Doug. “Why do they continue working together?” I asked, knowing John couldn’t function if he and his partner didn’t get on well.
“Look around.” Wanda raised her hands and gestured around the room. “Most ex-pats rent homes when they come here. We bought this place. The kids go to the American School.” I looked at Sam and hunched my shoulders wondering what all this had to do with anything. “I wanted them to go to a Belgian school. I thought as long as we were going to be living here for a while, they might as well, but no, Bill wanted them at the private school. About thirty thousand per year per kid.”
“Yikes!” Sam said. “Thank God Indian Cove has great schools.”
“Bill can’t do it all alone. He needs Doug. Doug’s been living here a lot longer than we have. He was here with another company first and has lots of contacts. He’s also very personable. So is Bernard. You met him at the cookout.”
“Is he a partner, too?” I asked.
“No. But they need him. In Belgium you have to have a license to sell insurance and it’s rather difficult for foreigners to get, especially ones who don’t speak the languages very well. Bernard, being Belgian and speaking the three national languages along with English and Spanish, has been a real asset for the firm. He’s also been a buffer between Bill and Doug. But to get back to your original question about why they work together. They have to. We, meaning Bill and I, have got too much tied up here what with this house and the kid’s school. To go out on his own, or change partners, would be too difficult right now. And there’s no way Bill can afford to buy out Doug’s share of the business. I think he would like to but I doubt Doug would sell anyway. Why should he? The business is doing very well.”
“Where do Malcolm and Jane Tillingsworth come in?” I asked.
“Malcolm just happens to work for one of the big Belgian insurance firms that Bill does a lot of business with. As it turns out, I believe Martine knew them. Well, actually, Paul knew them, and so Martine introduced Malcolm when the business started. The Tillingsworths live on the next street over, Avenue Prince Albert, so I see a lot of Jane at the store and stuff.”
“What about Paul,” Sam began, “what’s his part in all of this?”
“Nothing. He works for a bank. Not even the one the guys do business with. He’s just Martine’s husband. Was, I guess I should say, huh?”
“Did he know Martine and Doug had an affair?” I reached for another cookie Wanda had set out a few minutes before.
Wanda shrugged. “I don’t know. If he did, I never had any indication but then I wouldn’t, would I? I only see him once in a while at these get-togethers we have.”
“Wanda, forgive me for asking,” I said, “but why do you have these get-togethers? I mean, Bill doesn’t like Doug, you know Doug and Martine had an affair, you said you’re not crazy about the Mulberrys, so why bother?”
Wanda sat back and put her hands behind her head. “I haven’t a clue. It started off being fun, getting to know new people and all, and now, oh, I guess I still enjoy getting together. I like people. I just think maybe we should re-think our choice of invitees for the next time.”
Chapter 12
“We should probably stop off at the apartment to see if our husbands are back,” Sam said a few minutes later as we drove off from the Westlake house. “It’s nice we both have husbands. I’m so happy you and John are married. In all the excitement of the last few days, I kind of forgot there was a wedding a week ago.”
“My God! You’re right. I’ve been married over a week now. Am I supposed to get some kind of an anniversary gift?” I asked with hope in my eyes.
“Only if John is very sensitive. Actually, if I remember correctly, Michael gave me little gifts every month for a year. Now I’m lucky if he remembers my birthday.”
I looked at my sister’s neck. “Didn’t he give you an aqua marine pendant for your last birthday?”
Sam fingered the rather large stone. “Yeah, he did, didn’t he?”
I pulled the Escort in front of the house, glad there was a huge parking space, my parallel parking skills being a bit rusty. “Sam, look over there, at the man walking down the street. Isn’t that Paul Cassé?”
“It sure looks like him. What on earth would he be doing around here?”
“I think Wanda said something on Saturday that he and Martine live by the university and we passed it the other night when we took the tram to the restaurant. It’s only a couple of stops down.”
I locked the car door and went over to the sidewalk. “Paul! Paul!”
The man turned. It was indeed Paul and after exchanging greetings, we invited him in.
“No, I really shouldn’t,” Paul said. “I really must get back.”He looked over his shoulder like he expected someone to be there.
“You look like you need something to drink. And maybe someone to talk to.” I knew Europeans weren’t as open as we Americans but the guy looked terrible.
Paul hesitated a moment longer, looking down the street in thought and then turned and gave me a wary smile. “You’re right. I could use someone to talk to.”
We climbed into the tiny elevator and rode up in silence. A brief thought crossed my mind—could we be in this little space with a murderer? I could see tomorrow’s headlines in the local newspaper, Le Soir. Stupid Tourists Invite Killer into Their Home and End up Dead. Bodies Being Shipped Home Tomorrow. Geessh. I don’t know what gets into me sometimes.
The elevator door slid opened and we stepped out into the hallway. I unlocked the door and walked in.
“Paul, can we offer you anything? Coffee, tea?”
“Nothing, Alex. All I did yesterday was consume coffee. Martine’s family arrived as soon as I got home on Saturday night, or I guess I should say Sunday morning, and they stayed all day yesterday. They’re still at our apartment, which is why I went for a walk. I needed to get away for some air. I cannot breath with them hovering. They’ve always been completely informed of our problems, thanks to Martine, and I’m sure they think I killed her. Which I didn’t!”
“Well, we believe you, right Sam?” I nudged my sister in her side and Sam perked up.
“Oh! Right. I mean if people went around killing their spouses over every little thi…. Sorry. I got carried away.”
“It’s all right. I know what you meant. And it’s true. Martine and I had our problems to be sure, but I don’t understand how anyone could possibly think I killed my wife because she wanted children and I didn’t. It’s ridiculous.”