Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series)

by Elaine Macko

  Sam asked, “Do you take the Chunnel? I’d love to give it a try.”

  “Be my guest. Ever since they had that fire, I’ve been loathe to use it. We usually take the ferry.”

  I gave a shudder, being trapped in a tunnel or being tossed around on a boat, I couldn’t decide which was more unappealing.

  “Have you ever been to the United States?” I asked as I reached for a cookie on a plate matching the teapot and cups.

  “Once or twice,” was all Jane offered and knowing more prodding would cause a debate pitting the U.S. against the UK, I changed the subject.

  “This is a lovely room,” I said, thinking it didn’t match with what I had assumed would be Jane’s taste in decorating. The young woman herself was actually wearing clothing today that matched and wasn’t hard to look at. Maybe it was hard to find ghastly colors in gardening wear. Her hair looked tamer as well, today devoid of all the goopy hair products.

  Jane looked at the room like she was seeing it for the first time. “Thanks. It’s a bit crowded. I need to move some of the plants but I just never seem to get around to it.”

  Tennison and Morse came into the room and made a beeline for me. Jane was about to chase them away but I told her it was okay.

  “So have you been keeping yourselves busy? Americans seem to be so enchanted with our part of the world.”

  “Yes, we have. We’ve gone to Bruges and we’re hoping to go to Antwerp and Holland if the guys can fit us into their schedules,” Sam said somewhat skeptically.

  “Ah, yes. Your husband was working with the police inspector on Saturday night, wasn’t he? I take it he’s still at it.”

  “Yes, he is. I keep reminding him we’re on our honeymoon, but he can’t help himself.” I laughed. “Actually, it’s okay. My sister and I have to admit we’re very curious about the whole thing.”

  “Curiosity, ah yes. You Americans do like sticking your nose into it.”

  I gave a quick glance at steamroller Sam, but apparently my sister was more amused than incensed by Jane’s attempt at American-bashing.

  “So you’re playing amateur detective, are you?” Jane continued.

  “Well, actually,” Sam began, “my sister is somewhat of an expert where murder is concerned.”

  I smiled faintly going for the modest look. “Not an expert, but I have had my share of involvement with murders.”

  “So you work for the police, then, as well?” Jane asked in a somewhat bewildered stare. “I thought you owned some kind of work agency.”

  “Yes, we do. But I’ve had the unfortunate experience of stumbling, literally, onto a body. A client of ours, as it happens, and then one of our employees worked for a family where another murder was committed.”

  “You must have the inside track then. So tell me,” Jane said over the rim of her teacup showing a bit of curiosity herself, “are they any closer to identifying the murderer?”

  “Not that anyone has told me.”

  “Hmmm. I hear the funeral’s tomorrow,” Jane said. “Are you going?”

  “Me?” I asked. “No. I would imagine it’s just for the family. How did you know about it?”

  Jane reddened just slightly before recovering. “I called Paul last night. To see how he was doing. Martine’s family is driving him absolutely batty. I have a feeling they suspect him of her murder.”

  “And you? Do you think he did it?” Sam asked. I wondered how long it would take my sister to tire of pussyfooting around.

  “Not bloody likely,” Jane said with just a tad of trepidation in her voice. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  “We understand they were having problems.” On impulse I decided to throw in the suggestion of abuse and see where it got me. A nasty look followed by a mind-your-own-business was probably what I was in for. “And it’s been hinted at that he hit Martine.”

  Jane slammed her teacup down onto the saucer sending the two dogs leaping back into my lap and tea-flavored milk over the table. “Paul bashing Martine about? Are you absolutely mad? Who told you such rubbish? You don’t even know these people! What gives you the bloody right to accuse Paul of….” She jumped up and ran to the kitchen returning a moment later with a dishtowel. Jane furiously mopped up the mess.

  “Jane, calm down,” Sam said, her own voice raised. “We didn’t say anything. Someone else mentioned it. You don’t think Paul hit his wife?”

  “Of course not! He couldn’t possibly. He’s such a….” Her voice trailed off as she slumped back onto the floor, the anger leaving her body.

  “If I remember correctly,” I started, “you accused him of killing Martine the night of the murder.”

  “I did no— Oh, I guess I did.” Jane sighed as she ran her hands through pieces of her hair. “I was just mad.”

  “Mad? About what?” I put my cup down and leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees.

  “Mad probably isn’t the word. I felt frustrated at the whole situation. But I can guarantee you Paul would not beat Martine. I am positive about this.”

  “You sound as if you know him quite well.” I hoped my soothing tone would induce Jane to talk more.

  “Yes. I do know him well. Very well.” She looked up and there was a far away look in her eyes. “Paul and I were lovers before he married Martine.” Sam and I had the decency to look surprised but not shocked. “He and Martine didn’t live together at the time but I was married. I planned to ask Malcolm for a divorce when Paul decided to go back to Martine.” Jane paused for a moment to take a sip of the tea Sam had just poured. “I couldn’t believe he would go back to her. He loved me. But he was—is—such a decent person I know he just did it so I wouldn’t divorce Malcolm.” Jane looked like a rag doll, sitting on the floor. It was a welcome sight from the woman of a few moments earlier who seemed to have a permanent chip on her shoulder.

  “Did he ever hit you?” Sam asked softly.

  Jane’s eyes flashed at Sam but then the storm subsided just as quickly. “No. Not ever. He wouldn’t hit Martine, either. He just isn’t like that. Why do you keep coming back to this nonsense?”

  “Because Martine had a huge welt across her face when she was found. One that wasn’t there earlier in the day, and she had various other bruises on her body,” I said.

  Jane rolled up the leg on her pair of pants. “There. Look. I also have a bruise. Would you like to use the phone to report my husband for wife battering?” She pushed the pant leg back down and scowled at us. “I have lots of bruises. Get them from gardening, I would imagine, or from the dogs jumping on me all the time. I bet even the pair of you have some marks on your person you can’t remember getting.”

  I grimaced thinking of the scratch on the back of my leg. I had absolutely no idea how I got it. “Point taken, Jane. It’s just something the police are concerned about. But if you’re sure it couldn’t be Paul, do you have an idea as to who could possibly kill Martine?” I asked as I gently rubbed the backs of the two sleeping dogs.

  “No. But I’m glad someone did. Does that surprise you?” She looked from me to Sam, a few layers of uneven hair hanging in her face. “She never loved Paul. I don’t know why she insisted on staying married to him. Probably to torture him and keep us apart. She was petty like that. They weren’t right together. Not like Paul and I were. She probably knew just how happy we could be.”

  “Then she knew about the two of you?” I asked, already knowing Paul had told Martine everything.

  “Yes, she knew. Paul told her. You see he couldn’t have killed her. He was too honorable, the fool.” Jane shook her head. “He had absolutely no motive whatsoever.”

  It was obvious Jane was unaware of Martine’s own indiscretions and I would leave it that way, for now at least.

  “And you and Malcolm, are you two happy? Did he know of your affair with Paul?” I asked.

  “Are we happy?” Jane sighed and thought for a moment. “I suppose in our own way. We’ve been together since the age of sixteen. As for his knowin
g, I never told him. I didn’t see any reason to hurt him.”

  Sam said, “Well, these things have a way of making themselves known. Maybe he found out.”

  “Perhaps. But if you’re suggesting he killed Martine, that’s just not on. Besides, if he were to kill anyone, it would have been Paul.”

  Chapter 21

  “Maybe Malcolm might have wanted to do away with Paul, but Jane’s prey would definitely have been Martine. Does it strike you as odd that no one seems upset about Martine’s murder?” Sam asked a short while later as we drove back to our apartment.

  The weather had indeed turned rainy and a cascade of drops splashed on the windshield before the wipers whisked them away. We drove through the forest on the road that would take us to the Bois de la Cambre and the Avenue Franklin Roosevelt. The rain dripping off the trees and turning to mist as the drops hit the warm pavement, lent an eerie glow to the forest.

  “This is really beautiful,” I said. “It must look wonderful in autumn and winter. I wonder if they get a lot of snow here.”

  “Not too much, I think. Did you hear what I said?”

  “No one seems upset about Martine. Yes, I heard. And you’re right, Sam. I didn’t think of it before but that’s true. Even Wanda doesn’t seem to have much sympathy.”

  “That’s probably because she thinks Bill was sleeping with Martine. Same holds true for Donna. We haven’t spoken with Doug or Bill but it seems like it’s business as usual there as well. These ex-pats must be so lonely. Look at how they’re opening up to us and the things they say,” Sam said, looking very smug. “Even good ol’ Jane couldn’t keep her mouth shut. And she had the audacity to accuse us of being curious. Well, we may be, but we certainly don’t go around telling everyone our personal business.”

  “By the way, are you okay?” I asked my sister.

  “Okay? Sure. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you needed to run to the bathroom all of a sudden before we left Jane’s.”

  Sam laughed. “Oh, that. I just wanted to peek in her medicine cabinet.”

  “Samantha! You didn’t?” The corners of my lips turned up ever so slightly. “Well? Anything good?”

  “No. There wasn’t even a medicine cabinet in the little room. Just a toilet and a sink with only cold water.”

  “The poor woman,” I said.

  “Jane?”

  “No, Martine,” I said, getting back to our original subject. “I spoke with her at the party and she seemed perfectly nice. A little tense over her personal problems but then I’m apt to wear my feelings on my sleeve as well. All in all she didn’t seem like someone who would die and no one would care.”

  “Her family does from what Paul said. And I’m sure she had lots of friends who had nothing to do with her job. To be honest, I don’t think she really socialized with any of the people at the cookout. They all seemed to be more of passing acquaintances.”

  “Yeah, they did, didn’t they?” I jammed on the brakes and allowed a car coming from the right to pull out in front of me. “Sorry. These people take their lives into their own hands when they get behind a wheel. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. It was the most unusual gathering of guests I’ve ever seen. I know most where people connected with Bill’s business but no one seemed to really enjoy the company of anyone else in particular.”

  “I got the impression,” Sam said, “they never see one another outside of that yearly gathering, except of course on a business basis.”

  “Wow! Did you see that house?” I craned my neck to look in the rearview mirror. “That’s an honest to goodness castle.” I righted the little car which had swerved into the oncoming lane.

  Sam turned in her seat. “It’s gorgeous. I wonder who lives there.”

  “Probably drug dealers. They’d be the only ones who could afford the high taxes. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. Everyone seems to be wrapped up in their own affairs, literally, it seems,” I mused in awe. “These people sure do sleep around a lot. Maybe being so far away from home does something to them and having affairs helps to alleviate their homesickness.”

  “I hate to say it, but Paul’s being upset may only be an act. It looks more and more like he may have killed her.”

  I took my eyes from the road for just a second to look at my sister. “Why do you think that?”

  “Well, he was hitting her, for one thing. They were having major problems for another.”

  “Okay, let’s say Paul killed her, though I think you’re wrong. Why kill her at the party where he might have been caught when a guest went to use the restroom? Why not kill her at home and make it look like an accident?”

  “Less to clean up?”

  “Jesus.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, it’d be pretty hard to come up with a legal reason for having a piece of dental floss around your wife’s neck—mint flavored at that, wouldn’t it? Unless they were into some kinky sex stuff and he could claim it was an accident.”

  “All kidding aside, and I do hope you were kidding,” I gave Sam my equivalent of the evil eye, “what do we have? We know Martine had an affair with Doug, and maybe Bill. So maybe Doug kills her, or Donna. She certainly wasn’t being honest about patching everything up with Martine. Maybe Bill killed her or Wanda for that matter for the same reasons Doug or Donna would have done it.”

  “Then we have Jane,” Sam said, taking hold of the conversation. “She certainly felt she and Paul were better suited than he and Martine were. And of course we have Paul for all the obvious reasons. And let’s not forget the Tammy-Faye wannabe better known as Jobeth Mulberry.”

  “Why are you putting Jobeth on the list?”

  Sam thought for a moment and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just for good measure. Maybe she was miffed because Martine stopped coming to church and it would make Tom look bad to the people who are deciding about his promotion.”

  “I doubt anyone would notice one person stopped coming to church, for pity’s sake.” I came to a stoplight and turned right, continuing past a small horse racing track.

  “Maybe a whole slew of people stopped coming. I mean can you imagine that man keeping people’s interest for a whole hour every Sunday?” Sam shook her head at the thought. “I still think things are pointing more and more to Paul.”

  “Well, I hope you’re wrong, though it does seem like he has the most motive, doesn’t it? And we don’t even know if there was a large insurance policy on her. That could also be a motive.”

  An hour later we were back in the apartment after stopping off for some groceries.

  “This damned thing,” Sam said as the small elevator, with us in it, stopped between floors. The Smiths had left instructions if it got stuck to just press the stop button and then try again. It needed to be serviced but this being summer, most people were on holiday. A repairman had been called and would come the first week of August.

  “Did you press the button?” I asked.

  “Yes, twice. It’s not working. Damn. Now what?”

  “Quiet,” I said in a hushed tone. “I think I hear someone. Maybe it’s the guys coming back.” We listened for a moment.

  “I think you’re right. It sounds like someone trying to get in the front door. With our luck it’s Michael and he forgot his key.”

  “John! Michael!” I called. “Is that you?” I stopped to listen. “Is somebody there? Sam, did we lock the door when we came in?”

  “I thought it locked automatically. I didn’t do anything special to it.”

  “Neither did I. Hello! Is somebody there?” I shouted again. We became very quiet and listened.

  “Are those footsteps?” Sam whispered in gasps.

  “Sounds like it. But are they outside or inside?” Sam and I sank low in the elevator. There was a small window at the top of the door and if the person hadn’t heard us call out then we didn’t want to let them know where we were. “Can you reach the button and press it again?” I whispered.

  Sam lifted her right h
and and pushed the stop button. Then she pressed the one for our floor. The elevator gave a lurch and then started. A few seconds later we stood at our door. After securely locking it from the inside, we ran to the front window and looked out.

  “No one,” Sam sighed. “We must have been imagining it.”

  “I guess. It was creepy though. We probably just heard the lawyers next door, or maybe one of their clients arrived and got the doors mixed up.” I checked my watch. “I think I’ll put a call in to Millie and Mom. They must be wondering about us by now. We’ve been gone a week and I haven’t even emailed them yet.”

  “Is it already a week? And you’ve been married almost two weeks.” Sam walked by and kissed the top of my head.

  “What was that for?”

  “Nothing. Just I’m so happy for you and John and I keep forgetting you’re on your honeymoon.”

  “Yeah, so does my husband. Okay. I think I have this right.” Before we left, John purchased new cell phones for each of us. We had no idea if our old ones would work in Europe and we wanted to be able to make calls without them being charged to the Smith’s phone. I pressed the number for Always Prepared. Millie answered on the third ring.

  “Alex! How are you? We’ve been wondering about you.”

  Millie’s enthusiasm was contagious. “We’re fine. We’re all having a great time and seeing so much and eating even more. How are things back there?”

  “Great. Your mother’s picking the kids up Friday night. She really misses them and you, too.”

  “Any crisis I should know about?”

  “No. No crisis. We have a new client, however.”

  “We do?”

  “Your mother lined them up.”

  “My mother? You’re kidding.” I gave Sam the thumbs up sign.

  “No, I am not. It’s a long story, but a friend of a friend, or something works for a company that sells a water purification apparatus you attach to your sink and they needed a couple of temporary secretaries. They’re new in town and before they commit to full-time staff they have to see how the thing is going to sell. By the way, you and Sam are the proud owners of the EcoRich Pure Water Monitor Sink Attachment, courtesy of your mother.”