Wayne strode toward our pit bull reporter, and Xanthe stepped aside. Felix looked around him, as if for another hiding spot. And this man wanted our help finding a murderer?
“Whoa!” Felix yelped, “Holy moly. You going friggin’ nutso or something?”
“I got a copy of today’s Marin Mind, Felix,” Wayne said, his voice deceptively soft. “My head chef gave it to me. Wanted to know why I hadn’t told him about the marriage.” Felix paled.
“Have fun, Kate,” Xanthe cooed. “And you’ll be hearing from ‘Mom.’“ Then she grabbed Kevin’s hand and dragged him out the door, leaving it gaping open.
I could hear the clomp of their footsteps on the stairs as Wayne continued to advance on Felix, and Felix stepped backwards, stumbling over the futon that was still spread out as a bed in the middle of the living room floor. Supine, he looked up into Wayne’s face.
Wayne pulled a folded copy of the Marin Mind from his pocket.
He looked down and read at random. “‘Former bodyguard and heir to a reputed drug fortune…Typhoid Mary of Murder’?”
“I wrote it before the doc bought the big one,” Felix told us.
“Explain yourself,” Wayne demanded.
“I…I—”
“Craig read it too,” I put in.
Wayne winced. Much as he disliked my ex-husband, he had the imagination to know how it must have felt. Unlike Felix. “I’m sorry that he had to read about our marriage,” Wayne said. Then he looked back down at Felix. “Aren’t you sorry too? Do you understand the pain you’ve caused our friends and loved ones?”
“And family?” I added.
“Why, Felix?”
“Cause Kate didn’t tell me,” Felix whined. “My amigo, man, and nothing. Friggin’ nothing. And Barbara didn’t tell me either.” His voice was getting higher, louder. “My own honeybun and zip, nada. D’ya know what that feels like, man? Everyone’s in one big happy family, everyone but me. Noooo. Felix be part of the whole, whiz-bang secret? Noooo. Not Felix. He doesn’t even friggin’ count. Forget him—”
“Your feelings were hurt, so you took it out on us,” Wayne summarized. I couldn’t tell by his face whether he had any sympathy for Felix. But his shoulders had loosened. He wasn’t going to kill the man. Even I was feeling a little sorry for Felix. It was true, we didn’t consider him part of the family. We didn’t even consider him part of the human race most of the time. There’s nothing like being treated as an outsider to cause pain. And I was beginning to believe that Felix’s pain was sincere. Well-deserved, maybe, but still sincere.
“The article can’t hurt you,” he told us.
“It already has, Felix,” I murmured. “Craig’s hurt. My brother’s hurt. My mother’s gonna be hurt. And my friends—”
“But I—”
“No more,” Wayne commanded. “It’s done.” He walked slowly back to the swinging chair for two and sat down. I followed and sat beside him. I could still smell the tension on him, though. I searched his features and saw only misery beneath his all-stress facade.
“Maybe we should have a formal announcement printed up and send it to all our friends and family,” I suggested. “I wonder how fast we could get it printed and sent—”
And then Felix spoke, so softly, I couldn’t hear him.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking at his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
I looked at Wayne. Wayne looked back at me. Forgiveness? Was it possible?
“I’ll help with the announcements,” Felix offered. “If you want me to.”
“Thanks,” Wayne muttered back. I looked at him in amazement.
Almost a whole minute went by before Felix spoke again.
“We gotta sleuth this Sandstrom massacre,” he declared.
“Oh, do we?” I replied. How far could forgiveness stretch?
“Man, they got me sawed up like prime rib,” Felix declaimed. “Perez waltzed in to drag me over the coals again this morning. Jeez Louise, hadn’t even had my caffeine fix. He’s hot for my blood—”
Wayne cleared his throat. Loud enough for C.C. to yowl back from the next room. “We were there too, Felix,” he stated calmly. “Lieutenant Perez’s a good man. He’ll figure out who killed the doctor—”
“What doctor?” a voice asked from the entry hall.
I swiveled my head around. Xanthe and Kevin were back. I wondered how long they’d been standing there listening. I wondered if they’d left the front door open on purpose. But I didn’t answer Xanthe’s question. Nor did Wayne. Even Felix was quiet for a change.
“Is this what all the police stuff is about?” Xanthe demanded. “You guys involved in a murder?”
“Never mind—” I began.
But Wayne squeezed my hand. He looked into my eyes as if for permission, and then spoke without ever having obtained it.
“No more secrets,” he announced.
I wanted to argue. But he was right. What good were secrets that would never remain secret?
Felix piped up then. “Your sister, the Typhoid Mary of—”
Wayne instantly stood up, anger vibrating from his pores. C.C. yowled again, then came sauntering in to help Wayne disembowel Felix.
Felix flinched and rephrased his sentence. “Your sister, the whiz-bang super sleuth found another stiff last night,” he explained. “I was there too, and the friggin’ Gestapo have the hots for me.”
“Felix is not the only suspect,” I said for the record as Wayne sat back down next to me.
“Yeah, but those potato brains at the cop shop wouldn’t mind tightening the noose around my neck.”
Kevin and Xanthe drifted in and took their seats on the floor near Felix, where he lounged on the futon.
“Listen, man,” Felix implored, waving his hands in the air. I realized it could have been worse. Felix could have been a lawyer instead of a reporter. “I wasn’t even there for the first act. Somebody bonked the old codger with a deer thingy—”
“Statuette,” I supplied.
“—while I was still outside. And that place is a friggin’ fortress, man. You’re in or you’re out.”
“Why was everybody there?” Kevin asked.
“Get this.” Felix snickered. “They were all having a Marin experience at some kinda support group for geeks whose gardens have been defoliated by deer.”
“Like us,” I reminded him, a warning in my tone.
“Yeah, but that old lady who owns the nursery, man—” Felix kept on like a blender gone mad. Chop, chop, chop. “The friggin’ creature from the crypt. She’s my top contender for putting out the old doc’s lights—”
“Why?” I asked, stung. Avis was my friend.
“The gloves, man,” he answered, stretching out his hands in an elegant imitation of Avis. “She was the only one wearing gloves. Think there’re any fingerprints on the friggin’ deer thingy?”
I was too shocked to answer. Why was Felix worrying about the police suspecting him with Avis as a fellow candidate? My stomach danced uneasily with my brain. It was Avis’s nursery, her deer statuette for sale, her group—
“And then that Mr. Bigshot, TV geek, Maxwell Yang, gay as a floral print frock, man—”
“But he doesn’t hide it, Felix,” I argued.
“He’s not the only wacko. We are talking Disneyland for weirdos, here. That kid, Darcie, what a slob. And her hoity-toity grandmother—”
“Be nice, Felix,” I interrupted.
“About the suspects?” he asked incredulously.
“You’re a suspect,” I reminded him.
“And that Lisa, whoa, man.” Felix shook his head. I guess he hadn’t gotten my point. “A man-biter, ready for action.” He bared his teeth and made grinding noises with them.
C.C. tilted her head, watching him in fascination.
“And Howie what’s-his-face—what a banana brain. Goes around holding his friggin’ manuscript like a baby. Like anyone cared. Did you see Yang
give him the brushoff?”
“How about Natalie Miner, Reed Killian, and Gilda Fitch?” Wayne asked quietly from my side. He must have had a list in his head. Mine was still under my desk blotter.
“I kinda like Reed,” Felix offered.
“Why?” I asked in exasperation. I wanted equal-opportunity personality-shredding here.
“I don’t know, man, but he’s cool, you know.” Felix took a quick breath and finished up. “That Gilda is a graduate of some kinda Rule Britannia clown school, and Natalie Miner oughta look for men somewhere else than at a friggin’ deer meeting.”
“So, who do you suspect other than Avis?” Xanthe asked. There was real interest in her voice. Which scared me. Because I couldn’t see any leverage in the situation for her. And the Xanthe I knew didn’t do anything unless it had potential personal leverage. Well, she usually didn’t, I corrected myself. Actually Xanthe had been nice to me more than once—all right, quite a few times…which in its own way was really scarier than her curses.
“I don’t know yet, man,” Felix admitted to Xanthe. “But I can do friggin’ research. A lot better than the zucchini-heads from the Abierto Gestapo.”
“Xanthe?” I asked, unable to keep my mouth shut. “Why do you care who Felix suspects?”
“Because I like you, Kate,” she explained, her head jerking back as if surprised by my question. “And you’re in some kinda trouble here.” Did I believe her?
“But—” I began.
Then Felix directed his soulful gaze in my direction.
“See, Kate, that’s the plan. I’m a whiz-bang researcher. You’re a whiz-bang investigator—”
“I’d help,” Xanthe offered.
“Thanks, Xanthe,” I offered back in as friendly a voice as I could muster. Because by now, I did believe in her goodwill, however fleeting it might be. “But I’m not going to investigate and there’s no need for you to, either—”
“We’ll all friggin’ sleuth the truth together, man,” Felix told us, sitting up straight on the futon. “Barbara said Kate here would help me.” He looked at me again. “You know you will.” He was better at this hypnotism stuff than I was. My toes tingled.
“Who’s Barbara?” Kevin asked.
“My honeybun, my little dim sum, my—”
“His girlfriend,” I interrupted. Too many sweets can make a person throw up. “What does Barbara think?” I asked hopefully. Or maybe hopelessly.
“Nobody knows but Oz, man,” Felix replied. “You know how this weirdball stuff fritzes her circuits. She doesn’t know doo-doo.”
I looked at Felix and thought: It was true, we always had treated him as an outsider. And it was also true that he had done everything in his power to make that happen. But still, I’d hate to see him charged with murder.
“I can’t believe Dr. Sandstrom was your doctor, Felix,” I murmured, shaking my head.
“His doctor?” Wayne put in from beside me.
I’d never told Wayne that part, I realized, in the chaos following Felix’s confession to me.
“That’s why you gotta do the Poirot thing, Kate,” Felix whined. “Talk to these friggin’ geeks. Get the scoop—”
“Felix,” Wayne interrupted with another glance for permission my way. This time I nodded. “I think it’s time for you to go. Kate is not for hire.”
Felix did eventually go, but not without protest, and not without Kevin and Xanthe at his side. And that made me really nervous.
The three of them marched down the front stairs talking about sharing a meal at a nearby restaurant. I wondered who’d get stuck with the check. They were almost to the bottom step, when Felix asked Kevin if Koffenburger was my maiden name. All the hair on my body stood at attention, even my eyebrows. Was he planning on telling every single one of my relatives about the marriage?
Then, Wayne comforted me the best way he knew how. Well, the second best way, with food. He fixed me a quick risotto with portobello mushrooms and paired it with a nice garden salad topped with his homemade roasted peppers. Just the aroma was enough to make my tongue spasm.
I was just digging in, savoring the richness of the mushrooms, when Wayne asked if I was going to investigate.
“Felix could be a member of my family,” I told him.
My sweetie…my husband, didn’t smile.
“Joke,” I explained.
“Are you investigating?” he asked again.
“I hope not,” I told him. And then I filled him in on Avis’s and Maxwell’s phone calls to me.
Wayne ate in silence for a while.
“Motive,” he finally declared.
“Motive?” I asked. “Who?”
“Don’t know yet,” he answered, and then with his sternest look, he pleaded, “Don’t do a thing without me?”
I nodded, figuring I could at least hold off for the rest of the evening. Friday nights were important at Wayne’s restaurant. I would hole up and work while he was gone.
“Thank you, Kate,” he whispered and gave me a kiss to live for, a good strategy to keep me out of trouble.
After he’d gone, I practiced my tai chi. The flowing movements often calmed my mind to the point where I could see the important stuff that hid beneath the tumult that usually reigned in my brain. But that night, all I could think of was how cool the terra-cotta planter mug would look once it was done. I did a slow turn toward the back wall and saw it take shape.
And then the doorbell rang.
I ran to my office to peek out the window, promising myself I would not open the door to a suspect, not even Felix.
But then I saw who stood on my doorstep, Avis Eldora. My friend. And while I peered out the window, Felix’s description of Avis seeped into my mind like water into drought-ridden soil.
Was Avis a friend? Or was she a suspect?
- Eight -
Avis Eldora. My mind brought up her file. Owner of Eldora Nurseries. Former actress. Long time friend? I’d almost always seen Avis in the setting of her business except for those rare occasions when we’d met at parties, our own or someone else’s. We’d talked at gossipy length, but we’d never been to lunch. Friend or acquaintance? Did the semantics matter? I saw her shoulders slump as I peeked out my office window. Avis, in high-top sneakers, jumpsuit, and wide-brimmed hat, was covered as always from head to toe so that not an inch of skin was exposed to the sun’s rays. All in shades of green. Even her gloves were moss-green.
Gloves. My neuro-fibers stood on end. What had Felix said about her gloves? It didn’t matter, I told myself. But the thought persisted. If Avis were to walk in and murder me, there would be no fingerprints.
I glimpsed her face from beneath the wide brim of her hat as she looked up at the door. Then she closed her green eyes for a moment. I couldn’t hear her, but I could feel her sigh. She turned to go back down the stairs.
I rushed out of my office to the front door. Avis was my friend, lunch or no lunch. Could I keep her out of my house and let Felix in? There was only one verdict. No way. I flung open the door.
Avis was just stepping off the deck onto the stairs.
“Avis!” I yelled out.
She jumped, then turned to face me. There was worry in the lines of her face. And fear.
“Oh, Kate,” she breathed. She raised a shoulder as if dislodging something. “I’m so glad you’re home. I hope it’s okay to visit you here. I just couldn’t stop worrying. I know I should be more positive, but—”
“Come on in and talk to me,” I ordered and hugged her as she stepped over the threshold, not too hard, not wanting to injure the body that felt so fragile as I put my arms around it.
Avis walked carefully into the living room and sat down on the denim couch. I wondered if her joints were hurting her. It was so easy to forget that Avis was older than I was, with the possibility of the infirmities common to her age. But however carefully she walked, she kept her back erect, her movements as graceful as those of the dancer she had once been.
“T
ea?” I offered.
“No, no,” she demurred, her hands rising to stop me and then folding themselves in her lap.
I lowered myself into one of the hanging chairs and watched her, impatience compelling me to push off with my feet and let myself swing in the chair. Avis seemed totally absorbed in some world I couldn’t glimpse, her head bent so that I couldn’t see her face beneath her hat, either.
“If not tea, then sympathy?” I asked finally.
“They think I did it,” she answered quietly.
“Avis,” I told her sincerely, “you’re not the only one the police suspect. You’re not the only one who’s afraid. As long as you didn’t kill Dr.—”
“No, no!” she cried, her words no longer soft. “You must believe me, Kate. I abhor violence. All I want is harmony, peace, a place to unite with nature!”
Suddenly, I was wondering what would happen if someone got between Avis and her unity with nature. Uneasiness quivered in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I pushed harder with my feet, my chair swinging so frantically that a breeze fanned my face. Avis might feel and look fragile, but she lifted sacks of potting soil and fertilizer daily that I couldn’t lift without a few years of body building. Wielding a deer statuette would be nothing to her. And I had let her into my house.
Maybe it was the look on my face, or maybe the fact that I’d stopped talking, but Avis was staring at me now.
“You believe it too,” she declared, her voice sad.
“No, Avis, I just—”
Avis whipped her hat off her head, revealing her boyishly, and expensively, cropped silver hair. And her lovely face: clear, milky-white skin; full lips that were still sensual; and those almond-shaped green eyes.
“Kate, look at me,” she begged. “Do I look like a murderer?”
“You look nothing like a murderer,” I told her honestly. I didn’t add that she looked like an actress playing the part of a murderer convincing some poor sap she wasn’t one. And I wished she’d taken off her gloves instead of her hat.
“You believed it for a minute, though,” she said, and continued before I had time to argue. “That’s why you must help me find the true culprit. Kate, they can’t prove I killed Dr. Sandstrom, but they can make people believe I did. What would happen to Eldora Nurseries then?”
Murder, My Deer (A Kate Jasper Mystery) Page 8