by Otto Penzler
Anyway, Mrs. Parker forgot to mention that she’d planned this long before the marriage, or that she had a boyfriend. But I never nitpick a confession.
I inquired, “Do you have a buyer for the building?”
She nodded.
I guessed, “Two million?”
“Two and a half.”
Not bad. Good motive.
She also let me know, “His stupid collector books are worth about fifty thousand.” She added, “He buys them, but can’t seem to sell them.”
“Has he tried the internet?”
“That’s where he buys them.” She confided to me, “He’s an idiot.”
“Put that in your statement,” I suggested.
She seemed to notice that she was cuffed, and I guess it hit her all at once that the morning had not gone well, and she knew why. She let me know, “All men are idiots. And liars.”
“What’s your point?”
She also let me know, “Those books in his office are worth about ten thousand.”
“Really?” Poetic justice?
As I said, I’m not married, but I have considered it, so to learn something about that I asked her, “Why’d you marry him?”
She didn’t think the question was out of line, or too personal, and she replied, “I was divorced…lonely…”
“Broke?”
She nodded and said, “I met him at a party in LA…he said he was well off…he painted a rosy picture of life in New York…” She thought a moment, then said, “Men are deceitful.”
“Right. And when did you think about whacking him?”
She totally ignored my question and went off into space awhile. Then she looked at Jay in the back of the store and asked me, “Why isn’t he under arrest?”
I don’t normally answer questions like that, but I replied, “He has an alibi.” I reminded her, “The lady he spent the night with.” I shared with her, “His publicist, Samantha –”
“That whore!”
The plot thickens. But that might be irrelevant. More to the point, Mrs. Parker was getting worked up again and I said to her, “If you can convince me – with facts – that he conspired with you in this attempt on your husband’s life, then I’ll arrest him.”
She replied, “We planned this together for over two years. And I can prove it.” She added, “It was his idea.” She let me know, “He’s nearly broke.”
“Right.” I confessed, “I didn’t like his last book.” I already knew the answer to my next question, but I asked for the record, “Why’d you wait so long?”
“Because,” she replied with some impatience, “it took Otis two years to marry me.”
“Right.” Guys just can’t commit. Meanwhile, that bookcase is just waiting patiently to fall over. This was the most premeditation I’d ever seen. Cold, calculating and creepy. I mean, when Otis Parker said, “I do,” his blushing bride was saying, “You’re done.”
The good news is that property values have gone up in the last two or three years. I don’t know about collectible books, though.
I tried to reconstruct the crime, to make sure I was getting it right. D-Day for Otis Parker was the day after Jay Lawrence came to town to promote his new book. Today. Jay was supposed to help Mia last night to set up the bookcase for a tumble, then maybe a drink and a little boom-boom at the Carlyle, and some pillow talk about being together, and psyching each other up for the actual murder. And this morning, Jay would be here to comfort the widow.
But Jay, at some point, as the big day approached, got cold feet. All his Rick Strong books ended with the bad guy in jail, and Jay didn’t want that ending for himself. So he made a date with his publicist and ditched Mia, leaving Mia to do it all by herself. She had the balls. He had the shakes.
One of the things that bothered me was that Otis Parker was in his office early on the morning that he was going to be whacked. That wasn’t coincidence. Not if this was all planned in advance.
I went back to my original thought that Otis Parker had an appointment. And who was that appointment with? And why didn’t Scott know about it?
Maybe he did.
I said to Rourke, “I’ll be in the stockroom. Keep an eye on these two. Let me know when the car gets here.”
That made Mia think of something and she asked me, “Where’s the ambulance?”
“I don’t know. Stuck in traffic.”
She stared at me and shouted, “You bastard! You lied to me!”
“You lied to me first.”
“You…you…”
I was glad she was cuffed. Rourke put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her into the chair.
Meanwhile, Jay heard some of this, or figured it out and he walked quickly toward me and asked, “Why isn’t the ambulance here?”
I confessed, “Otis Parker doesn’t need an ambulance.”
Jay looked as stunned as when I had pronounced Otis alive.
People don’t like to be tricked, and Mia let loose again. Sweet voice aside, she swore like a New Yorker. Good girl.
Jay Lawrence recovered from his shock and informed me, “You…that was not…that’s not admissible…”
“Hey, he looked like he was trying to stand. I’m not a doctor.”
“You…you said he spoke to you…”
“Right. Then he died. Look, Jay, here’s a tip for your next book. I am allowed to lie. You are allowed to remain silent.”
“I’m calling my attorney.”
“That’s your right. Meanwhile, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.” I gave Rourke my cuffs and said, “Cuff him.”
I walked to the back of the store and into the stockroom.
Officer Simmons was talking on his cell phone and Scott was still at the table, reading a book – How to Get Published for Dummies.
I sat opposite Scott and asked him, “Why was Mr. Parker here so early?”
He put down his book and said, “I don’t know. I guess to do paperwork.”
“Did he tell you he was coming in early?”
“No…I didn’t know he was going to be here.”
“But he asked you to come in early.”
“Yeah…”
“But never mentioned that he would be coming in early.”
“Uh…maybe he did.”
“That’s not what you said to me, or what you wrote in your statement.”
Officer Simmons was off the phone, and he took up a position behind Scott. This was getting interesting.
Scott, meanwhile, was unraveling fast, and he swallowed, then said in a weak voice, “I…guess I forgot.”
“Even after you saw the lights in his office?”
“Yeah…I mean…I remembered that he said he might be in.”
“Who put those five boxes of books in his office?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Why last night?”
“So…Jay Lawrence could sign them…Mr. Parker likes the authors to sign in his office.”
“Jay Lawrence wasn’t coming in until ten A.M.”
“Yeah…but…I don’t know. I do what I’m told.”
“What time did Mr. Parker think that Jay Lawrence would be in?”
“Ten –”
“No. Otis Parker thought that Jay Lawrence was coming in very early. About seven-thirty or eight in the morning. That’s why he asked you to bring the books up last night, and that’s why he was here this morning.”
Scott didn’t reply and I asked him, “Who wrote that note on the bulletin board that said 10 A.M.?”
“Me. That’s when he was supposed to come in.”
My turn to lie. I said, “Mrs. Parker just told me that her husband said he had to get to the store early to meet Jay Lawrence.”
“Uh…I didn’t know that.”
“Mr. Parker never told you that when you carried the books upstairs last night?”
“Uh…I don’t –”
“Cut the bullshit,
Scott.” I informed him, “Two people are going down for murder. The third person involved is the government witness.” I asked him, “Which one do you want to be?”
He started to hyperventilate or something, and I said to Simmons, “Get him some water.”
Simmons grabbed a bottled water off the counter and put it on the table in front of Scott. I said to him, “Drink.”
He screwed the cap off with a trembling hand and drank, then took a deep breath.
I took a shot and said to him, “Mrs. Parker told me you met her here last night, after Mr. Parker left for the day.”
He took another deep breath and replied, “I…she asked me to stay and meet her here.”
“And she asked you to help her with some furniture in her husband’s office”
He nodded.
“And you did that.”
He nodded again.
“Did you know why you were doing that?”
“No.”
“Try again. I need a truthful witness for the prosecution.”
He drank more water, then said, “I told her…it wasn’t safe to –”
“One more time.”
“I…didn’t know…she said don’t ask questions…”
“What did she offer you?”
He closed his eyes, then replied, “Ten thousand. But I said no.”
“Yeah? Did you want more?”
He didn’t reply.
I thought a moment and asked, “Did you both have a drink in his office?”
He nodded.
“On the couch?”
“Yeah…”
What a deal. He gets ten thousand bucks, drinks the boss’ liquor, and fucks the boss’ wife on the boss’ couch. And all he has to do in return is push the bookcase back a bit while Mia Parker slides the wedges out. How could you say no to that? Well, Jay Lawrence said no, but he was older and wiser, and he already fucked Mia Parker. Also, he got scared.
I made eye contact with Simmons, who was shaking his head in disbelief.
As I said, I’ve seen it all, but it’s new and shocking every time.
Scott was staring blankly into space, maybe thinking about Mia Parker on the couch. Maybe thinking it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Well, aside from money, you have what I call dick crimes. Dicks get you in trouble.
I had another thought and asked Scott, “Did she say she’d get Jay Lawrence to help you get your book published?”
He seemed surprised that I knew this. I didn’t, but it all fit.
Scott was fidgeting with the empty bottle now, then he said, “I didn’t know what she was going to do…I swear I didn’t.”
“Right. So, this morning you let her in at about seven-thirty.”
He nodded.
“Mr. Parker was already here.”
He nodded again.
“He told you his wife was coming by to say hello to Jay Lawrence, her friend from L.A.”
“Yeah…”
“She went up to his office and they waited for Jay Lawrence.”
He nodded.
“And you went…where?”
“Out back.”
“Could you hear the crash?”
He closed his eyes again and said, “No…”
“What time did you come back to the stockroom?”
“About…seven forty-five…”
“Then you carried some books to the counter, just like you said in your statement, and you called up to him.”
He nodded.
“And there was no answer, so you knew she was already gone. And where did you think he was? In the bathroom? Or under the bookcase?”
No reply.
“Did you actually go up the stairs?”
“Yeah…I didn’t know…I swear I didn’t know what she –”
“Right. She needed the furniture wedges for another job. And she paid you ten thousand bucks and had sex with you for your help. And she gave you a script for this morning.”
He didn’t reply.
I looked at my watch. 11:29. Almost lunch time. I stood and said to Scott, “I’m placing you under arrest as an accomplice to murder.”
I nodded to Officer Simmons, who already had his cuffs out, and he said to Scott, “Stand up.” Scott stood unsteadily and Simmons cuffed his hands behind his back.
I said to Simmons, “Read him his rights.”
I walked toward the door, then turned and looked at Scott. I almost felt sorry for him. Young guy, bad job, lousy boss, maybe short on cash, and wishing he was back in college, or wishing he could be the guy autographing his books. Meanwhile, other peoples’ unhappiness and money problems – Mia’s and Jay’s – were about to intersect with his life. Of course, he could have just said “no” to Mia and called the police. Instead, he made a bad choice, and one person was dead, two were going to jail for a long time, and Scott, if he was lucky and cooperative, would be out before his thirtieth birthday, a little older and wiser. I wanted to give him an enduring piece of advice, some wisdom that would guide him in the future. I thought of several things, then finally said to him, “Never have sex with a woman who has more problems than you do.”
I walked back into the store as my cell phone rang. It was Lieutenant Ruiz who said to me, “I’m waiting for your call, John.”
“Sorry, boss.”
“What’s happening?”
“Three arrests. Wife for premeditated murder, her boyfriend for conspiracy to commit, the clerk who found the body as an accomplice.”
“No shit?”
“Would I lie?”
“Confessions or suspicion?”
“Confessions.”
“Good work.”
“Thank you.”
“You coming to work today?”
“After lunch.”
We hung up, and I looked at Mia Parker and Jay Lawrence, both sitting now side by side in the wingback chairs, cuffed and quiet. They were together, finally, but they didn’t seem to have much to say to each other. I had the thought that the marriage wouldn’t have worked anyway.
I also thought about telling Jay that his girlfriend banged the clerk to get the kid to do what Jay wouldn’t do. But that would make him feel bad – and he felt bad enough – though it might shut her up about Jay banging his publicist. I resisted the temptation to stir the shit a little, and I let it go. They’d find all this out in the pre-trial anyway.
Later, while we were waiting for the three squad cars to take the perps away, I asked Jay Lawrence to sign a book for me. He graciously agreed, and I took his book out of the display window.
He was able to hold a Sharpie with his cuffed hands, and I held the book open for him. “To John,” I requested, “The greatest detective since Sherlock Holmes.”
He scrawled something, and I said, “Thanks. No hard feelings.”
I put thirty bucks in the cash register.
When all the perps were in the cars, I opened the book and read the inscription:
To John, Fuck You, Jay.
Well…maybe it will be worth something someday.
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About this Book
Who knew literature could be so lethal…
15 short stories to die for introduced by Ian Rankin. Death Sentences includes original, specially commissioned stories about deadly books from the world’s best crime writers.
Contributors:
David Bell, Peter Blauner, C. J. Box, Ken Bruen, Reed Farrel Coleman, John Connolly, Thomas H. Cook, Jeffery Deaver, Nelson DeMille, Loren D. Estleman, William Link, Laura Lippman, Anne Perry, Mickey Spillane & Max Allan Collins, Andrew Taylor
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OTTO PENZLER is the proprietor of The Mysterious Bookshop in New York City and an Edgar-award winning anthologist.
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The story starts here
Each story was individually published in the USA between 2011 and 2013 by The Mysterious Bookshop, and as an anthology by Assembly! Press, an imprint of Bookspan, New York, USA by arrangement with The Mysterious Bookshop.
This anthology first published in the United Kingdom in 2014 by Head of Zeus Ltd by arrangement with The Mysterious Bookshop
Rides Like a Stranger © 2013 by David Bell; The Final Testament © 2013 by Peter Blauner; Pronghorns of the Third Reich © 2012 by C.J. Box; The Book of Virtue © 2011 by Ken Bruen; The Book of Ghosts © 2011 by Reed Farrel Coleman; The Caxton Lending Library & Book Depository © 2013 by John Connolly; What’s in a Name? © 2013 by Thomas H. Cook; An Acceptable Sacrifice © 2012 by Jeffery Deaver; The Book Case © 2012 by Nelson DeMille; Book Club © 2012 by Loren D. Estleman; Death Leaves a Bookmark ©2012 by William Link; The Book Thing © 2012 by Laura Lippman; The Scroll © 2011 by Anne Perry; It’s in the Book © 2013 Mickey Spillane & Max Allan Collins; The Long Sonata of the Dead © 2013 by Andrew Taylor