Acts of Malice

by Perri O'shaughnessy

‘‘What happens now?’’

  ‘‘I have no idea,’’ Nina said with feeling. ‘‘What about you? What’s happening there?’’

  Sandy’s lips worked a while. ‘‘It’s bad,’’ she said finally.

  ‘‘How bad?’’

  ‘‘Bad enough that he’s moving in next week.’’

  Nina said, shocked, ‘‘I thought I was in trouble. When’s the last time you lived with a man?’’

  ‘‘1986,’’ said Sandy, ‘‘which is when he left me.’’

  Another six inches of fresh powdery snow coated the streets. Hot sun burned through the trees, flattening the lake into glass. Nina floated through wonderland in four-wheel drive, past the casinos, around the lake to the Nevada side. She was going to see Marianne Strong.

  The community of Zephyr Cove consisted of a pinestudded sandy beach, a barnlike restaurant, cabins and snowmobiles for rent across the highway in the woods, and quite a few discreet expensive homes tucked here and there.

  Number 273 Granite Springs Drive was built in the contemporary mountain style, of cedar and glass, high up the hill to catch rays and lake views.

  Wiping her boots on the mat, she rang the bell. The intercom next to it came to life. ‘‘Yes?’’

  ‘‘It’s Nina Reilly.’’

  ‘‘Come in and wait, okay? I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.’’ The woman’s voice was husky. Nina pushed open the heavy door at the buzzer and found herself in a polished entryway with tiled floors and a chandelier. As she entered the high-ceilinged living room, Nina saw that Marianne and Alex had both taste and money, or at least a taste for money. The walls had that sponged look, with recessed lights and casement windows looking out upon a terrace. Several important-looking bronze sculptures controlled the corners and a Calderlike red and blue mobile hung from the ceiling. All was beige, cool, and minimalist.

  She sat down at the glass-topped dining table and looked around, scanning for signs of despair, tragedy, loss, finding nothing. No black-wreathed silver picture frame with Alex’s photo, nothing melancholy at all. No reading material except for a couple of Paris Match magazines tossed on the coffee table. A trophy case full of gleaming tokens of Alex and Marianne’s success.

  Marianne was taking her time. Not a peep came from upstairs, and Nina couldn’t sit still and behave any longer. Her eye caught a writing desk in the corner with a few papers and she crossed the kilim rug to it. A hasty glance at the staircase showed no shadow, so she bent to the papers and immediately saw a document stapled to a blue backing on the bottom. In California, that usually meant a will. Another quick look at the empty stairs. It was in her hand. She went straight to the third page, where the action usually starts, and scanned it swiftly, then reinserted it at the bottom of the pile of bills.

  When the legs appeared at the top of the stairs, Nina was looking at the mobile.

  Marianne Strong made her entrance count. She came down a few steps very slowly, smiling, her large lustrous eyes raking the room. Then she seemed to bound the rest of the way.

  Nina already knew her. She was the girl who had rushed out of Philip Strong’s office, practically knocking her over. She wore black tights and a long black sweater that showed off a compact gymnast’s body. She was smaller than Nina had expected, in her early twenties, with coffee-colored skin and fashionably cut shoulder-length wavy black hair.

  ‘‘Isn’t Jim coming?’’ she asked in that scratchy deep voice, coming over to Nina. ‘‘Why did you come without him?’’

  The perfume, the voice with its faint accent, the whole effect was European. Nina remembered Jim telling her that Marianne was a Brazilian who had been brought up from early childhood in France.

  ‘‘No, that wasn’t the idea,’’ Nina said. ‘‘Sorry if there was a misunderstanding.’’

  ‘‘He’s avoiding me. What did I do? You know, he didn’t say one word to me at the funeral. Has he talked to you about me? The bastard! I’m really getting mad at him now. Tell him I said that, all right?’’ She sat down and lit a Sherman’s cigarette from the box on the side table, letting herself take a long calming drag. ‘‘Well, sit down. I can’t believe it. I spent two hours getting fixed up for this meeting. Bastard!’’

  Nina sat down in a chrome and leather chair that she hoped was only a knockoff of Breuer’s famous Wassily number.

  Marianne laughed. ‘‘I’m not really mad. Listen. Don’t tell him what I said. You want something to drink? A soda?’’

  ‘‘No, thanks.’’

  Marianne slumped down on the couch, taking quick puffs from her cigarette, thinking about something else. ‘‘I don’t know what my secretary told you—’’ Nina added.

  ‘‘I know all about it. Everybody on Ski Patrol is talking about it. God, what a circus. Alex would be so disgusted. He died doing what he loved to do. It’s very simple.’’ She went on about the newspapers and the complications, starting up another cigarette when the first was half smoked.

  ‘‘I’m sorry about your husband,’’ Nina said when Marianne wound down.

  ‘‘Oh, yes, we all are. My poor Alex. I’m desolate.’’

  She did not look desolate. But of course, Nina reminded herself, grief takes many forms. ‘‘How is Jim?’’ Marianne went on.

  ‘‘He’s getting along. I believe my secretary told you I had a few questions about Alex.’’

  ‘‘Yes, she did. I know all about you. Jim has asked you to help the family sort out some details. I understand that the coroner has made an awful mistake,’’ Marianne said almost gaily. ‘‘So please, fire away.’’ She seemed to be enjoying the attention. Her moods shifted faster than Nina could keep up with them.

  ‘‘The coroner has filed a report which concludes that Alex was murdered,’’ Nina said. ‘‘Essentially.’’

  ‘‘What an asshole. Honestly. For chrissake, Alex never held back on the snow. He’d broken half the bones in his body already. He always went for it. I hate to say it,’’ her voice lowered to a whisper, ‘‘but it was going to happen someday, you know?’’

  ‘‘There’s a chance that Jim will be arrested.’’

  ‘‘Oh, it’s all so stupid. Jim’s got his problems, but kill Alex? Never,’’ Marianne said. ‘‘Alex was his double, his shadow. No way.’’

  ‘‘What problems are we talking about, Marianne?’’ Nina said, leaning forward in her chair.

  ‘‘What did I say? Problems? Oh, no, I’m not going to get myself in more trouble with Jim. I was only trying to help, but he’s holding it against me. It’s infuriating! Would you talk to him? Explain that I deserve a little sympathy? My husband is dead and he won’t even come over and comfort me!’’

  ‘‘Maybe if you explained a little more to me, Marianne—about Jim, and why he’s angry—maybe I could talk to him.’’

  ‘‘He hasn’t talked about me? Not at all?’’

  ‘‘Yes, he has.’’

  ‘‘What did he say?’’ the girl asked eagerly.

  ‘‘Well, he told me about your being from France—’’

  ‘‘Chamonix. My father was a ski instructor there. My mother is from Rio. She couldn’t stand the winters. She couldn’t even stand up on skis. She left us when I was six. What else did he say?’’

  ‘‘He said you are a champion snowboarder.’’

  This brought a self-satisfied smile. Gesturing at the trophy case, Marianne said, ‘‘Actually, I met Jim before Alex. We met four years ago at the United States Extreme Championships at Crested Butte. I took fourth in the Women’s. But downhill isn’t my event. Really. It’s for maniacs, let’s be honest. Let the crazy local girls break their legs and tear their tendons. I don’t do that anymore. I do freestyle. You know, tricks. It’s safer in a lot of ways. You don’t have to go so fast that you’ll certainly break something if you go out of control. One, two, three tricks and you’re done. It’s over. I’ll be performing at Paradise two weeks from next Friday at the Festival of Lights. Come and see me.’’

  ‘‘Sounds g
ood. You were saying?’’

  ‘‘Oh, yes, Jim invited me to California for a weekend and I stayed and became the snowboarding instructor at Paradise.’’ She tossed her head and said, ‘‘We were together for six months, then we had a big fight and he started seeing Heidi. Alex and I began going out, and we married. That was two years ago.’’

  She was looking at Nina’s chest in a frank, not really offensive manner. She was one of those women who compares herself physically to every other woman she meets.

  ‘‘So you’re a lawyer,’’ she said. ‘‘Does that mean Jim has to tell you all his secrets? You must get very close to your clients.’’

  ‘‘Not that close,’’ Nina said. Marianne laughed again.

  ‘‘I have a dirty mind,’’ she said.

  ‘‘So Jim’s mad at you?’’

  ‘‘Obviously. And I was only trying to help.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘Because Heidi was screwing around, and I told him. He’s mad at the messenger, that’s all.’’ She put out the latest cigarette and got up. Walking over to the mobile, she gave it a push and it began to spin. ‘‘Pretty, isn’t it?’’ Marianne said. ‘‘It cost enough. So. What do you think? Should I have kept my mouth closed?’’

  ‘‘I guess I’d need a few more details to be able to answer that.’’

  ‘‘I heard her a couple of weeks ago on the phone in the equipment room, talking to her lover. She was afraid Jim might find out. I don’t know who her lover was. She knew a lot of men.’’

  Nina tried to look skeptical.

  ‘‘She was really involved with this guy,’’ Marianne said, her tone insistent. ‘‘It was clear from the way she talked to him.’’

  ‘‘How well do you know her? Heidi?’’

  ‘‘Oh. I know her very well. But we don’t get along. She thinks snowboarders are stupid. That’s because she’s too big to be good at it. She’s a big cow with muscles like a man’s. Just a minute.’’ She left and came back with a couple of bottles of Evian water. Nina unscrewed the cap and drank the pure water thirstily.

  ‘‘Please don’t tell Jim I called Heidi a cow. It’s just between us,’’ Marianne said. ‘‘He still loves her, but he’s bound to get over that soon enough now that she’s left him. Oh, did you think that was a secret? Everybody knows she accused him of killing Alex and took off. She’s probably with the other man right now.’’ Her eyes glittered.

  ‘‘So you told Jim about this conversation Heidi had?’’

  ‘‘Of course. Out of respect for him. Out of friendship. So he wouldn’t go around with the horns on. You should have seen his face.’’ She gave the mobile another spin. ‘‘Americans don’t take this sort of thing very well. He should thank me. He’s treating me like shit instead. Would you tell him that?’’

  ‘‘Oh, yes, I’ll definitely take it up with him,’’ Nina said. ‘‘Did you tell the police that you had told Jim about his wife’s affair?’’

  ‘‘I didn’t volunteer, if that’s what you mean. An officer came and asked me questions. I had to answer, naturally.’’

  ‘‘Naturally,’’ Nina said. ‘‘So tell me. Where were you the day Alex died? Just for my records.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t kill my husband. How ridiculous! It was an accident!’’

  ‘‘Then you won’t mind answering my question.’’

  ‘‘I was snowboarding, but a long way away from them. I knew Alex would go off-piste. Off the groomed trail, you know. I play it safe. I’m only a daredevil when somebody pays me. So, the accident happened when I was on the other side of the mountain. It was a beautiful day, how it gets after a fine thick snowfall in the night.’’

  ‘‘You were with friends?’’

  ‘‘I’m too good for my friends,’’ Marianne said. ‘‘Remember, I am a pro.’’

  ‘‘Who might have seen you out there?’’

  ‘‘I saw Jim on the Ogre. That was some time before the accident. I carried my beeper and when I got buzzed I went down to the lodge and checked in. Alex was already on his way to the hospital with Philip and Jim. Heidi was still on the mountain somewhere. My— The night host took me there. It was such a hideous shock.’’

  Nina was watching her closely, looking for signs of genuine sorrow on that hard handsome face. She saw none.

  ‘‘Les jours s’en vont, je demeure,’’ Marianne said, shrugging. ‘‘We had a lot of fun together.’’ That seemed to be her final word on the subject of her husband’s death. She was still standing a few feet from Nina, a black-clad gamine made of steel.

  ‘‘I’m getting too old to keep up with these sixteen-year-olds. I am going to retire, I think.’’ Marianne went on firmly. ‘‘In fact, I’m quite sure of it. Maybe I’ll go home to France and leave your big messy country. I’d like to get Jim’s advice about it.’’

  ‘‘I suppose there was some insurance. And Alex’s share in the resort. You’ll be able to afford it,’’ Nina said.

  ‘‘My money is my private business,’’ Marianne said. ‘‘Look, I have places to go.’’

  ‘‘Sure,’’ Nina said. ‘‘Absolutely. But there’s just one more thing I’d like to ask.’’

  ‘‘Yes?’’

  ‘‘Was Heidi’s lover your husband? Was it Alex?’’

  Marianne’s face went red. ‘‘Stupid, stupid question,’’ she said. ‘‘You think I would stand for that? Talk about him this way? Of course not! Alex was very much in love with me! With Heidi? I don’t think so!’’

  ‘‘You have no idea who it is?’’

  ‘‘If I did, I would have told Jim!’’

  ‘‘Just asking,’’ Nina said. She shouldered her bag. ‘‘I’ll show myself out.’’

  ‘‘Wait!’’ Marianne grabbed Nina’s arm and squeezed it. ‘‘Look. I’ve helped him by talking to you. I’m on his side. He owes me—you’re putting me off—I need to talk to him—’’

  For just a second, experiencing the strength of the glowing young athlete in front of her, she was ready to believe many things about Marianne.

  ‘‘Take your hand off me,’’ Nina said grimly.

  ‘‘You need to lift weights,’’ Marianne said. ‘‘Your muscle tone is really bad.’’ She let go. Nina went outside and Marianne slammed the door behind her.

  As she came out onto the steps, breathing hard, angry, Nina saw a dirty pair of ski boots off to the left by a supply closet, still dripping wet. She didn’t give a shit what Marianne thought, if she was watching. She went over and picked up a boot.

  They weren’t Tecnicas. They also weren’t Marianne’s. They were men’s boots, an unfamiliar brand called Dalbello, much bigger than Marianne would wear. She looked at the metal sole. A different pattern, but a pattern.

  Whose boots were they?

  10

  NO ONE WANTED to be snatched from Tahoe’s sunshine and squashed into the poorly lit squad room on that Monday afternoon. Not Doc Clauson, the coroner for the County of El Dorado, Tahoe Division. Not Officer Floyd Drummond, who had taken Heidi Strong’s statement the week before. Not the pudgy D.A.’s investigator, Sean Voorhies, and not the two deputy D.A.’s.

  Barbara Banning, the Tahoe D.A.’s office’s newest deputy, was inspecting her nails, and the entire roomful of men was watching her do it.

  Collier watched her watching them watch her.

  Barbara would go far. She had a quick mind, middle-class sex appeal, and an inexorableness that reduced most of her defendants to road kill. Today, Henry McFarland, their boss, had assigned Barbara to ‘‘help’’ decide what to do about the Alex Strong investigation. McFarland didn’t quite trust Collier.

  Fair enough.

  Collier looked down at his notes one more time. He didn’t want to be there either—because he didn’t need a loser case in his first month back.

  ‘‘Okay,’’ he said. ‘‘Let’s get started. We’re here to look at the Strong situation. It’s been over two weeks since the guy skied off the cliff. We have to arrest the
brother for something or back down on the amended autopsy report, one or the other. Sean, you’ve been on it a week. Summarize the results of the search of Jim Strong’s house and car last week.’’

  ‘‘That’s easy,’’ Sean said. A portly mountain boy with a deceptively easy manner, Sean loved a conviction. He didn’t look too sure of himself today. ‘‘We found nada,’’ he said. ‘‘Except we grabbed all the ski gear in the house. Not including the boots, as you know from my report there.’’

  ‘‘So where the fuck are the boots?’’ Barbara said. Several of the men in the room looked jolted at hearing such hard language passing through such soft lips.

  ‘‘Located. I found them over the weekend,’’ Sean answered. ‘‘At least, I found out where they were. The father had ’em in his car at his house in Marla Bay. That’s why the search of Jim’s place didn’t turn them up. But the father gave them up.’’

  ‘‘Gave them up?’’ Collier asked.

  ‘‘To Jim’s lawyer, Nina Reilly.’’

  Heads shook at this news. Collier shook his head too, unhappy that he hadn’t thought of it. Nina could be very crafty. She had a knack for getting to things first.

  ‘‘The FedEx gal on Reilly’s route?’’ Sean went on. ‘‘She’s a mighty sweet young thing. Didn’t mind letting me sneak a peek at the Send To addresses for the week. There it was. A big package from the law office for a Doctor Hirabayashi in Sac.’’

  ‘‘Shit,’’ said Doc Clauson. ‘‘Ginger’s looking at them. That’s the boots all right.’’

  ‘‘Reilly’s interfering with a police investigation,’’ Barbara Banning said. ‘‘Maybe we should teach her a lesson. What do you think, Collier?’’

  ‘‘I think we’d end up wallowing in technicalities when we ought to be getting the evidence back,’’ Collier said. Sean let out a strange sound that might have been a snigger.

  ‘‘My information about her is that she has a fascinating social life,’’ he said, looking at Collier.

  ‘‘I don’t give a shit about her social life. I want to know if your office is going to back up my report,’’ Doc Clauson said, fingering a packet of matches. He wasn’t smoking anymore, but unfortunately he wasn’t smoking any less. He had quit a dozen times since Collier had known him. Collier saw that the usual Camels had found their way back into his shirt pocket.