Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series)

by Elaine Macko

  Sam came back from taking a look at the food, her face scrunched up in disgust. “It looks terrible, even to me and that’s saying something.”

  “We could always find China Town for lunch later,” I suggested.

  Sam went in search of the loo and came back a few minutes later. “Have you noticed no two toilets flush the same? This one has a lever high up almost to the ceiling that you have to pull. Took me forever to figure it out.”

  Two cups of tea had been placed on our table with a plate of wheat biscuits.

  “Well, in a few days we’ll be back in Indian Cove.” Sam took a sip from her cup of tea.

  “Don’t remind me. It makes me feel sad.” I absently munched on a biscuit. “These are really good.” I took a look at what I was munching. “Kind of like a graham cracker but better. We need to buy some of these to take home.”

  Sam rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “I hope they catch the killer before we have to leave.”

  “Me, too. I know Gerard will let us know what’s going on, but it would be nice to have it all cleared up.”

  “Want to have a little wager?” Sam gave me a sideways glance and smiled. “I’ll put my money on Donna. What’s wrong? You look funny.”

  “Nothing.” I tightened my lips together in a frown. “I don’t know. Just seems like I’m overlooking something.”

  Sam shrugged. “I still say it’s Donna.”

  I pushed my plate away and took the last sip from my cup. “Well. I’m done. Shall we start walking?”

  “I promised Michael’s mother I’d find her a nice needlepoint kit. Wanda said Liberty has the best.”

  We stepped outside to an overcast sky, not that it mattered much to us. I consulted our map and in no time at all we found ourselves in the food hall of Harrod’s.

  “Oh my gosh.” I stood looking at a display of tea the likes of which I never seen and probably never would again. I ordered a small bag of something called Mystery tea and placed it in my backpack. We had found out from the pub owner the biscuits were called McVities Digestives, a most unappetizing name if ever I heard one, and before we reached Harrod’s had stopped in a small grocer’s for several packs.

  “Well, I’m all set. Tea and biscuits.”

  We spent a couple more hours walking around, taking everything in. I didn’t really care whether we hit the hot spots or not, though seeing Buckingham Palace was quite a thrill.

  “I wish we had planned this better,” Sam said. “We could have come for a couple of days and spent the night, with or without our husbands.” Sam nudged my arm. “Did you hear me? What’s with you today?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know. I just keep almost remembering something and then it fades away. Something someone said. Or something I saw. I just can’t think.”

  “You need food,” Sam said with authority and led us to a nearby Indian restaurant.

  “This is really good.”

  Sam reached over and took a forkful of my chicken tikka masala. “Yep. You’re going to have to learn how to make this for us.”

  “What will happen to Wanda and Bill’s children if she goes to jail for murder and he gets arrested for whatever the heck he’s up to?” I asked.

  “Good question.” Sam took a big gulp of water. “I suppose they’ll be sent back to the States to live with relatives.”

  “But their parents will be here, locked up in jail. This is really a horrible situation.” I pushed myself back from the table totally sated with the chicken and several pieces of naan bread.

  “Enough about murder. I have a surprise for you.” Sam paid the bill and pushed me out of the restaurant.

  A short while later she made me close my eyes as she guided me to some unknown destination. We must have looked very strange, burdened down by packages, and me taking tentative blinds steps toward whatever the heck Sam wanted me to see.

  “Okay. You can open them now.”

  I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against a bright sun which had suddenly appeared again as if out of nowhere. I looked up to where Sam pointed, and there, in all his bronzed glory, leaning on a cane was Winston Churchill.

  “Oh, my gosh!” I turned to Sam. “How did you know about this?”

  “I looked it up online. I figured if we only did one thing today, it had to have something to do with Winnie.”

  I hugged my sister. “Thank you. I’ll never forget this.”

  By the time we boarded the train back to Brussels, we had managed to see quite a lot in addition to adding a few more expenses to our credit cards.

  I glanced at my sister while she watched London fading away through the train window. I didn’t care what anyone thought about bringing a sister on your honeymoon. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

  Chapter 40

  “You are absolutely sure? Please, monsieur, take your time. I must be positive.”

  “Yes, Inspector. This is the man,” the young agent told Gerard as John silently sighed.

  After many hours of asking the same questions, Gerard had finally found someone who remembered seeing Bill. The young man worked for a discount airline that had just started a service between Brussels and Geneva. He was certain the man he saw on Friday evening was Bill Westlake.

  “And what time did the flight arrive?”

  “It was about twenty minutes late so it must have come in shortly after ten.”

  “Bon! Thank you for your help.”

  Gerard looked elated. John, not so much. But the word of this one young man, inexperienced, and over-worked with the start-up of the new route, would not be enough. Gerard and John took the pictures downstairs to the car rental companies. No one remembered seeing Bill. Then they went to the metro station under the airport that went directly into the city. No one could remember seeing anyone fitting Bill’s description, but then they didn’t pay much attention to the hundreds of people passing through every day.

  Gerard and John went back into the airport in search of something to eat. It had been over eight hours since they had arrived and even longer since they had eaten.

  After lunch, the next stop was the taxi stand outside the arrivals gate. John looked at the long line of taxis and knew it would be hopeless. The chance of them finding the driver who drove Bill into town last Friday night was zero. And he was so tired. Gerard toyed with the idea of coming back in the morning, but he wanted to find a taxi driver who worked nights. He would have to do it now.

  No one remembered Bill. One driver, with a smelly cigar and brown teeth, hesitated for a moment but then said, no, he hadn’t seen him.

  They walked to Gerard’s car and got in. Somewhere there had to be another person. All they had was the identification made by the young man, and a copy of the passenger list. But Gerard said he needed more proof. Just to be sure. Gerard drove his car up the winding ramp of the underground parking structure and then John saw it—the Lock and Park. Of course! Bill had his own car. He must have driven to the airport and left his car behind the gates of the security section.

  Gerard pulled over and they got out. They found two men on duty behind the glass walls of the makeshift office. Gerard pulled the pictures out and asked if they had ever seen Bill before.

  “Oh sure,” the first one said, a nerdy sort, short, with pockmarked skin. “He picked up his car yesterday.”

  “Fine. But was he here earlier?” Gerard asked trying very hard to keep the agitation out of his voice.

  “Yes. He dropped it off last Thursday morning. Very early.”

  “That’s not correct,” the other man said taking the picture. “He picked his car up on Friday night.”

  “No. I’m sure it was yesterday,” Nerd said.

  “Do you have any records?” Gerard asked.

  Nerd produced a large binder and turned to the page for yesterday. “See. There it is, right there,” he pointed. “Yesterday. He picked up his car yesterday.”

  The other man flipped the pages back to the sheet for Friday
. “No. Right there, look. He took his car on Friday.”

  They both looked up to a smiling Gerard and a not so happy John. “Let’s take a look at Saturday morning,” Gerard said. “I’m sure we’ll find he checked his car back in.”

  Chapter 41

  I’m not a good sleeper. Even at the best of times I toss and turn. I get into bed tired and within a few minutes, I’m wide awake, and just lay there for hours until I finally fall into a fitful slumber. And these were not the best of times. I had so much on my mind and something far back I desperately wanted to bring to the front. But what was it?

  After trying in vain to fall back to sleep, I got up, took a shower, and went downstairs to make a cup of tea. Our time in Belgium was just about over. I couldn’t believe it. I sat there on the terrace again, in the early morning hours, waving to the lady across the way as I had been doing for the last week. We had become friends of sorts.

  Only a few more days and then we would be on a plane headed west. I wondered if she would miss me. Where had all our time gone? Once again I had mixed emotions about going home. Yes, I wanted to see my family and get settled into my new house, but I loved it here. It was so pretty and everything brought a new excitement to my life. I knew if I lived here, things would become mundane eventually just like they did at home, but I wouldn’t mind staying until that happened. Then I could leave. And we hadn’t gone to Paris. So close and yet with the murder occupying so much of our time, we just never got around to it.

  I was already dressed and ready to go out and absorb as much as I could. On this beautiful Thursday morning, we planned some last minute sightseeing. I turned as my sister came out on the terrace.

  “Here. Take one.” Sam offered a croissant she had just taken out of the oven. “The bag’s almost empty. We might as well have them the next few days. Don’t want them to go to waste.”

  I smiled. “No, God forbid we should do that. So where are we going first?”

  “There’s a castle with a torture chamber in the town of Beersel. Michael really wants to see it.”

  “Probably reminds him of his dental chair. He’s probably homesick and needs to see something familiar.”

  Sam smiled and grabbed my plate. “Come on. The guys are ready to leave.”

  After looking at rooms full of implements of torture and reading the gruesome description accompanying each device, I couldn’t take any more and went to sit outside. Sam joined me after a few minutes saying she too felt ill looking at all of it.

  After the castle, we drove down country streets looking at scenery and taking pictures. John and I leaned against the car while Sam hopped over a small fence and went to pick some wildflowers.

  I watched my sister. “We’ve almost made it out of the country without getting ourselves into any trouble and she’s probably going to be arrested for trespassing, or for breaking some wildflowers ordinance.”

  “It’s almost time to go home.”

  I turned and looked up at my husband. “I know, John. I can’t believe all this time has gone by. I’ll cherish this trip forever.”

  “It’ll go down in history as the first honeymoon without a groom.”

  “Don’t feel too badly. It hasn’t been bad, and we got to do almost everything we wanted. I feel very selfish saying I’ve had a terrific time with two murders having been committed, but I have.”

  John folded his arms across his chest. “I’m afraid Gerard’s going to arrest Bill for Doug’s murder. I hope not, but at the very least, he has a lot to answer for.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I felt certain it would come to this after John told us what he and Gerard had discovered at the airport yesterday. I wondered if they would find evidence to tie Bill to Martine’s murder, too, or if he would just give himself up for that.

  By late afternoon we were back at the apartment.

  “I suggest we spend the next two days cleaning this place and packing,” I said.

  “I think we’ll need the two days just for packing. Forget about cleaning,” Michael sighed. “Have you seen how much stuff this woman bought? What’s the weight limit on suitcases, anyway?”

  “I’ll have you know very little of what I bought is for me,” Sam huffed. “Most of the stuff is for the kids and your mother.”

  I watched the way my sister could lie with such ease and wondered if I’d ever be able to fool John. I knew for a fact besides all the lace and the diamond earrings, Sam had managed to buy herself a Burberry jacket in London, two wool sweaters on sale, and several needlepoint kits just in case she wanted to learn. Suddenly I had a great idea.

  “You know, maybe we could ship some of it back. There’s information on sending off FedEx packages in the book of instructions the Smiths left for us.”

  Sam looked hopeful when the buzzer in the pantry sounded.

  “It’s Gerard,” John said a few seconds later. “He’s on his way up.”

  “Sorry to interrupt your evening,” Gerard said a minute later as he settled himself on one of the sofas, “But I thought I should give you the news in person.”

  “What news?” I asked, though I had a pretty good idea.

  “This afternoon we have arrested Bill Westlake for the murder of Doug Parmelee.”

  Sam and Michael were both upset by the news, and made the appropriate cries of protest.

  I ignored them both. My eyes were on my husband who had just slumped in his chair.

  Chapter 42

  “John! Are you all right?” I hurried to his side.

  John held up his hand to stop me but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to; the effect of his hand halting me was enough.

  Sam and Michael stood there holding their breath. They had never seen John angry. Well, not like this. Sam glanced at me. I knew my face was a mixture of apprehension, shock, hurt, and a bit of anger, also. In all the time we had been together, John had never been abrupt with me like this. There was a deafening silence in the room. Even Gerard didn’t say a word. He just watched John.

  John slowly lowered his hand. “Alex, I’m sorry.” He held out his hand again and I took it. “I knew this was coming. I told you this afternoon Bill was going to be arrested, but I just hoped somehow today you,” John looked up at Gerard, “might find some innocuous reason for Bill coming back to town on Friday night. Forgive me for doubting you.”

  “I am truly sorry I have to give you this news of your friend. But, yes, we are certain or else we would not have made this arrest,” Gerard said and I could see the hurt in his eyes for I knew Gerard now considered John a good friend and didn’t want to cause him pain.

  Sam and Michael cautiously took seats on the other sofa.

  “So, Bill took a flight back on Friday evening and killed Doug,” John said.

  “Are you sure,” I asked more for John’s sake than mine.

  “We’ve checked with the hotel in Geneva and Monsieur Westlake did not stay in his room on Friday evening. We have found a hotel, very near the airport, which shows Monsieur Westlake as a guest on Friday evening. Checking in very late and very tense. Of course we have the records from the flight and the eye witnesses.” Gerard heaved a heavy sigh. “I am sorry, John, but you were with me yesterday.”

  “Was Wanda involved?” I asked.

  “No. Madam Westlake was not involved.”

  “Did she know her husband was the killer?”

  “I do not think so, Alex,” Gerard said.

  John clasped his hands together. “Well, I’d like to talk with Bill if it’s allowed.”

  “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

  John rose slowly and walked out of the room. I heard him banging about in the kitchen. I started to go after him, but Gerard stopped me. “Let him be.”

  Ten minutes later John walked in with a tray with four cups of coffee and a tea for me. “I thought we could all use something. Something stronger, probably, but I’d like to keep my wits about me.” He passed the cups around and returned to his chair across from Gerard. �
��Okay, what now?”

  “We have his confession. But he’ll have a trial anyway. It is obligatory here. He’ll be sentenced, probably for life.”

  “What about Wanda and the children?” I couldn’t keep the quiver out of my voice.

  “I do not know,” Gerard sighed. “Her husband has left quite a mess with his business. Many debts. Fraud. Another charge that will be leveled against him. I’m sure she will have to sell the house. I can’t see her remaining in Belgium with no income.”

  “So she’ll return to the U.S. and Bill will be here in prison?” I asked, trying to fathom the situation.

  “Jesus. What a mess,” Sam said.

  “I guess with two murder convictions and the fraud and probably tax evasion,” Michael said, “there’s no chance he’ll ever get out.”

  “My, God. He killed two people,” I said.

  “No.” Gerard shook his head. “Monsieur Westlake killed Monsieur Parmelee. Of this we are certain. But he did not kill Martine Cassé.”

  Chapter 43

  “What do you mean, he didn’t kill Martine? I thought—”

  “Didn’t he kill both of them because they figured out he was fiddling the figures?” Sam asked finishing my thought.

  “No. We do not believe he killed Madam Cassé. We have asked him, of course, and he denies it.”

  “And you believe him?” John asked.

  “Madam Cassé may have been killed for something connecting her with Bill and Doug, but I don’t think so. I think our original theory still stands in her case.”

  “Are you saying you still believe Paul is responsible?” I asked. “I thought we ruled him out.”

  Gerard smiled at me, “Alex, I believe your investigation has excluded him.”

  I felt my face redden. “Well, I wasn’t exactly investigating….”

  “Yes we were,” my sister, the traitor, said.

  “It’s okay,” Gerard said flashing his toothy grin again. “As a matter of fact, Monsieur Cassé is not a suspect. Perhaps we should look into him more closely, but my instincts tell me he did not kill his wife. Now, it is my turn to be sorry. I must admit I do not know who killed Madam Cassé.”