Flush

by Sky Curtis

  I thought for a bit about Crystal Riker. Was she really exonerated? She had zero financial motivation to kill van Horner. Also, even though she would likely know Todd’s password to his internet dating profile, or be able to figure it out, she seemed accepting of his philandering ways. I believed her on this. I wondered if she knew about the condo. She had no motive to kill van Horner either. She had the prizes already; she already owned the technology and her husband would never leave her. No way could I see her hiring a hit. And she loved her husband. She would never kill him.

  No, it wasn’t Crystal.

  Jimmy, the boat captain, was a suspect in that he would be able to help steal fresh water from the lake, if that theory still had legs. A lot of energy had been put into chasing down an international theft scenario, if Creston were to be believed. I believed him over England, who said it was Radcliffe stealing the water. England was a big fat liar. Creston on the other hand, well, he was so nice. I loved his soft grey eyes. Well, soft most of the time. Or at least some of the time. Okay, once or twice he looked at me kind of softly. I took a large slug of my wine and forced myself back to Jimmy.

  He knew where the pump was and he had the boat. But he had no motive. The risks were huge and his payoff would be minimal. I doubted he would throw away his life in Canada for several thousand dollars, which I guessed would be all he’d be paid to operate his boat under the cover of darkness to divert water from the pump from the lake into a rented tanker. That scenario clearly didn’t make sense.

  His two crew, those kids, seemed unlikely partners in crime as well. They were med students, for heaven’s sake, working hard and going to school. They were new to Canada. Would they risk their futures for doing an illegal job? It wouldn’t be worth it.

  I had been initially suspicious that van Horner had killed Radcliff. Maybe van Horner wanted more than his fair share and maybe he had bumped off Radcliffe to get it. But that theory went out the window when van Horner himself turned up dead. Besides, if the waiter at the gay bar were to be believed, the two men were lovers. Sure, lovers were certainly known to kill one another, but somehow I didn’t buy it. These two guys didn’t seem the type to suddenly succumb to domestic violence.

  No, all signs pointed to Melissa for both murders. She had motive times three. First of all, she hadn’t been part of the deal with Crystal, Richard, and Todd, and she probably wanted in on the massive potential income from the food-freezing technology. Sure, she had tons of money already, but anyone driven the way she was to acquire money the way she did would be motivated by greed. With Richard and Todd dead, she would be made a partner of Crystal’s, and the earnings would be split just two ways. Until she killed Crystal. That “Bye bye, Crystal” haunted me. So money was certainly a motive for both murders.

  Her second motive was jealousy. I believed that part of her truly loved her husband but there was that old saying that “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” I doubted she’d be able to cope with the thought that her man was enjoying the company of someone else. Todd was the hated lover and her husband was hated for his betrayal.

  The third motive was more complex. She was probably enraged that her husband had taken up with another man. A woman in her position, rich in her own right, and living in a tony Toronto neighbourhood, would never put up with the public humiliation of that. Ditched for another man? No way. She was a serious homophobe, that was clear in her attitude towards Cindy, and homophobes were certainly known to kill.

  Motive was all over her.

  Did she have opportunity for both murders? Having Richard shot wouldn’t require the accurate timing of a Swiss train. He probably came home from work around the same time every day, and her routine was to round up the kids from various daycares and trot in the door half an hour after him. A shooter would have a wide window of thirty minutes to execute his shot. He could aim at Richard while he was getting out of his car, for example, or through a window as he had done. Easy enough, for a professional.

  Planting a wasp on Todd on the other hand, would require her to get up close and personal. I knew she knew that he habitually put his hands in his pockets. But a little more hard evidence would be nice. I wondered if anyone had seen her near Todd that day he died. I wondered if the pocket of his blazer had been tested yet for wasp trace, whatever that might be. The opportunity to kill in both cases allowed her to be far away with an alibi, so the likelihood of her being caught was pretty slim.

  Melissa Mowbray also had the means for killing both men. She had lots of money to hire a hit man to kill her husband. The regular withdrawals indicated something suspicious. And she belonged to that shady gym downtown. What was the name of it? West Side Gym. She could probably find a hit man there. Her husband would be shot and she’d be miles away, creating a perfect alibi, as she had with using the wasp. Speaking of which, as far as means for killing Todd, her backyard was filled with wasps. And she wasn’t frightened of them. She likely knew about Todd’s allergy, considering the relationship the two couples had. It would be a snap capturing a wasp in a pill container and dumping it into the pocket of his jacket.

  Yes, Melissa Mowbray certainly had means. She was a perfect MOM.

  Sure it was circumstantial, but it was adding up. Creston had the resources to confirm all this with evidence. The jacket was being tested. He could get warrants for her bank accounts and then based on her cash withdrawals, he could get warrants to search her house. He could no doubt get warrants to look at CCTV cameras in the Starbucks and on the subway system. Had she been near Todd on the night he died? I bet my bottom dollar that she had been.

  I spent a few minutes thinking about Creston. Ralph. I wondered if he liked me, too. His eyes were the colour of lake water and I wanted to dive in. My thoughts wandered lazily about as the wine seeped into my veins. I imagined going out for dinner with him, and then what might happen later.

  As if ESP had created a pathway in the ether, my phone rang. I fumbled for it and saw that it was Ralph! Suddenly I was in a tizzy. It was all so confusing. I really liked him. But, there were all these extenuating circumstances. Murder. Well, murders. So inconvenient, getting in the way of my feelings! I giggled a little while the phone rang again. But would I sound a little tipsy? I didn’t want him to know that I drank. I eyed the condensation covering the tumbler of wine. Half way down. Hmm. Not too bad. The phone was insistent. I cleared my throat. “Hello?”

  He sounded upbeat. “Hi Robin. Did you write that story about wasp venom being the cause of death? I didn’t see it in the web edition. I was thinking of you and wondering if you were nervous in your house.”

  He had been thinking of me, too! My heart jumped. I took a sip of wine, being careful to not clink the glass against my phone. “The story will come out on the web sometime tonight. So, I’m probably safe, although I am still a bit nervous. Lucky is sniffing around the yard.”

  “I was thinking I’d come over. Have you had dinner yet? I thought I’d bring some Chinese.”

  Perfect. I could confess all to him. “Hey, that would be great. When can you get here?”

  He laughed. “Actually, I’m at the restaurant now, picking it up. That place on Parliament around the corner from you.”

  “C’mon over. I’ll pick out the almonds.” Chinese food was notorious for almonds.

  “Already done. I remembered.”

  Just then the doorbell rang, the electronic peel reaching me in the back yard. That was fast. “What? Are you at my door already?” I stood up, holding the phone against my ear and clutching my drink as I walked through the house to let him in.

  “No, I’m still in the restaurant. Maybe you shouldn’t open it.”

  His warning was too late. I was already opening the door. Standing on my porch was Melissa Mowbray. She was wearing a white cashmere pullover adorned with a string of pearls. Looming at the curb outside my house was a huge black SUV, a Land Rover. Fear burst through my
skin at the sight of her. Thank heavens Ralph was on the phone.

  Melissa punched the cell out of my hand and forced me against the wall. I could hear Ralph calling my name through the speaker in the phone on the floor by my feet. Melissa clamped her left hand over my mouth and shoved her right fist against my diaphragm. I had no doubt at all that an upward thrust of that fist could break my ribs. Melissa kicked the door shut behind her and with one quick stomp crushed my phone. I no longer had a connection to Ralph. I prayed he would come quickly.

  “So, you figured it out, did you? I saw you looking at the wasps in the trap, putting two and two together. Well, never fear, no one else will know.” She took her hand off my mouth but her fist was still jabbing into my stomach.

  I babbled to save my life. “The tox screens came back today. I wrote an article about it. Everyone knows wasp venom killed Todd. Not only me. There’s proof from the coroner. The game is up Melissa. That was Ralph Creston, the police, on the phone. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  She laughed merrily. Was she stoned? Her pupils were large black holes in the center of her blue irises. But how did she know where I lived? Were my instincts right in the garage when I felt Cindy and I were being followed?

  “Sure, good story, Robin. I know that wasp venom doesn’t show up on tox screens. It decomposes in the blood too quickly. And Ralph Creston’s office is miles away, way down Church Street. I’ll be able to deal with you long before he gets here.”

  “The advanced new tests scan for wasp venom. Besides Creston knows. There’s no point in harming me. You’re going to be caught anyway.”

  “No I won’t, you’ll be dead.” Melissa took her fist off my belly and opened her hand. She was holding an almond. In the distance I could hear a siren. Ralph.

  “You hear that? That’s the police coming here.” Melissa looked around. “And you can’t force me to eat that,” I said, clamping my mouth shut. How did she know I was allergic to almonds? Oh right. My profile.

  “Wanna bet? I am a good five inches taller than you and stronger than most men.” With that she trapped my arms behind my back and rapidly wound some cord around my wrists. She grabbed my locked jaw and squeezed the side of my face hard, clamping her strong fingers on either side. It was the same technique I used on Lucky when I wanted to open his mouth. I felt the almond being pushed through my slightly parted teeth and knew I would be in the throes of a major asthma attack in about five minutes.

  I was thinking fast. Melissa probably thought that the almond would kill me. If I pretended to die quickly she would leave and I could get to my inhaler, which was over the sink on a shelf. I purposely made my knees crumple and slumped to the floor, like I was dying. I quietly spat out the almond so it would be hidden under my cheek. As I lay on the floor my lungs were shutting down. I needed air.

  Melissa gave me a triumphant kick in the ribs and then ran out the back door. I heard it click shut as if it were a thousand miles away. Lucky was barking frantically in the yard. All I could see were little pinpricks of light shining faintly through a blanket of darkness. My world was turning black.

  Suddenly strong arms lifted my head up. Was Melissa back? Had she changed her mind? Air was going slowly in and out of my chest accompanied by a high wheeze. A low voice penetrated my panic.

  “Where’s your inhaler?” It was Ralph. He smelled like Chinese food.

  My throat was so itchy I wanted to scratch it with my nails. I tried to whisper as I looked into his grey-blue eyes, lined with worry. My breath was coming in shallow rasps. “It was Melissa. Sink. Shelf,” I gasped as my breath whistled in and out of my chest.

  Ralph put his jacket under my head and quickly got the lid off my inhaler, opened the medication with a flick of his wrist, and put the white plastic funnel to my mouth. I took a deep breath of the steroid as he pumped the canister. I felt my lungs open up, almost immediately. I fell back into his arms and waited for the drug to work, which it did, within minutes.

  When it soon became apparent that I was going to recover, Ralph got up off the floor, and dug out his phone from his breast pocket. He gave clipped instructions and Melissa’s description. I could hear sirens in the distance and knew the neighbourhood was going to be sealed off. Hopefully she hadn’t gotten away.

  Ralph found a kitchen knife in a drawer and sawed off the cord around my wrists. “She’ll be caught, don’t worry.” He extended a hand to me on the floor and helped me stand up. I felt like a rag doll as he took me into his arms and kissed the top of my head.

  Thank heavens he didn’t kiss my mouth, I thought. He’d taste the wine!

  “Robin?” he said.

  I was enjoying being in his warm, strong arms. I could feel his kindness washing over me like warm water nourishing my soul. “Yes?”

  “Could you go back to being a flower reporter?”

  I snuggled into his arms and said into his chest, “No one tells me what to do.”

  He laughed, “That’s my girl.”

  I reluctantly broke away from the embrace and nonchalantly started opening up the bags of food and flipping off the container lids. Lucky was sniffing around the table, looking cute and hungry. Although my legs were a little wobbly, my heart had settled down and my breath was flowing in and out without restriction. The spicy smell of Asian cooking filled the kitchen and helped clear my chest.

  “So.” He perched against the counter. “Why did Melissa try to kill you?”

  I was still feeling the effect of his arms around me. So lovely. But I managed to meet his gaze. Why did I feel so shy? “I have so much to tell you.” I plunked dishes and silverware on the table, trying to cover up my sudden discomfiture.

  “Melissa Mowbray, huh? I never would have guessed her. Well,” he said, sitting at the kitchen table and loading up his plate, “it sounds like you solved my crime. Tell me all and I’ll take it from here.”

  I sat down and dug in. Nothing like a death threat to build an appetite.

  31.

  RALPH AND I SAT AT MY HARVEST TABLE surrounded by half-empty containers of chow mein, chicken balls, and vegetable fried rice. Discarded cellophane packets of plum sauce were scattered here and there. We had hit the bottom of a bottle of white and I didn’t think he’d noticed that some had already been missing when we’d started. I was feeling a bit light-headed from the steroids in combination with the drink, but soldiered on through my story about the day.

  “So, when Cindy and I were canvassing Church Street for anyone who knew Todd and Richard—”

  “Why Church Street?”

  “Well, because we had a strong inkling that they were gay.”

  “How on earth did you come to that conclusion?” Ralph was sitting back in his chair, looking at me in disbelief.

  “From what Jimmy said. When we were talking to the boat captain he let a few hints drop about Richard and Todd being more than just friends.”

  “Hmmm. I didn’t catch that.” Ralph scratched behind his ear, as if he could fabricate the missing fragment of conversation out of thin air like a magician.

  “It was very subtle,” I replied. “Plus, you’d received some bad news and were preoccupied.”

  He flicked away my excuse for him. “So, then…” Ralph gestured with his fingers for me to get on with the story, “you were going up and down Church Street….”

  “And we finally ran into someone, a waiter, who knew the two men, had heard them talking about their new ice cream company, but just as importantly, had seen them being cozy together. So, I thought we had a motive for the murders. It was either jealousy or business. Maybe both. Someone wanted to steal the technology, not the fresh water at all. They wanted to cool freezers efficiently.”

  “I remember Jimmy talking about ice cream.” He thought for a second. “You didn’t like the water theft angle?”

  “No, flushed that one,” I laughed. “After tha
t, Cindy and I decided to interview the two wives. Melissa Mowbray let it slip out that she knew her husband was having an affair with Todd, and she had thousands of wasps on her back patio to choose from for a murder weapon. So, motive and means. But, she also has tons of money so I was puzzled because she certainly didn’t need to steal to make any more. But she knew Todd well, right down to knowing he was one of those guys who always had a hand in his pocket. She and her husband had eaten a lot of dinners with Todd and Crystal, so she probably knew enough to figure out his password. Anyway, I had a sense that she was guilty. She was cut-throat enough, what with her kick boxing lessons and aggression.”

  “So, Todd and Richard were an item and you think Melissa killed Todd with a wasp, with the motives being greed and jealousy.”

  “You’re right, in a nutshell.”

  “So, who shot Richard?”

  “Melissa. Or rather, Melissa ordered the hit.”

  “Not Crystal? She had the same motives. Jealousy. Greed.”

  “No, Melissa. Crystal had no motive to murder at all. She already owned the technology, so she didn’t need to kill for the proceeds off it, and she already knew that her husband was having affairs. I believe that she loved him with all her heart and she accepted who he was.”

  Ralph was dubious. “So why would Melissa kill her own husband? She had lots of money already. She didn’t need the new technology.”

  “She loves money. People who are really rich can get warped, with odd values. I think Melissa wanted more, more, more.” Ralph raised his eyebrows at my vehemence. “Plus, it’s my guess that she’s so heavily invested in being the successful dame of Toronto’s higher society that she could never stomach it being exposed that she had been ditched by her husband for a man. That’s my hunch, anyway. She’s a homophobe.”

  “Well, I’ll need a little more to go on that that. I can’t arrest her because she’s rich and you don’t like her.”

  I decided not to take offense. He was probably frustrated by the lack of evidence. “I know, of course you can’t. We took a look at Melissa’s financials and she made regular withdrawals from her business account of nine thousand dollars. Five of them, so forty-five thousand dollars. I think if you canvass her gym’s members you’ll find someone who’s forty-five thousand dollars richer. If you can get them to talk, you’ll get her that way. But I don’t need to tell you how to do your job.”