Murder Most Persuasive tkm-3

by Tracy Kiely

  “Of course,” said Ann. “We’d be happy to do anything we can to help.”

  From the cold expression in his dark eyes, it didn’t look like Officer Daschle believed her. I rather thought it was time to call Joe.

  * * *

  Joe arrived an hour and a half later. As soon as he appeared, I discreetly left. I don’t think either of them noticed.

  I drove to the local Whole Foods, where I got an assortment of food and then brought it all back to Uncle Marty’s house. Ann and Joe were out back, so I slipped in unheard and unloaded the groceries. I left a note for Ann on the counter and then, after packing a small bag of gourmet goodies for myself, headed to Peter’s apartment. I let myself in with my key and, after putting the food and wine in the refrigerator, flopped on the couch and closed my eyes. Although I’d slept past noon, I was still exhausted.

  Once again I tried to make sense of the events of the last few days. Bonnie had brought Julian back claiming that he was her soul mate and new investor. That had of course upset everyone, but apparently it had upset someone more than the rest of us and he or she had tried to poison Bonnie. Next Julian had been poisoned, this time successfully. Were both attacks because of the money? Had the poisoner hoped to prevent Bonnie from giving Julian the money? When it appeared that Bonnie was going to live, had the poisoner then killed Julian just so that Bonnie couldn’t go through with her plan? I knew that Ann had nothing to do with the attacks. But if money was the motive, that meant it had to be Reggie, Frances, or Scott. Reggie admitted to preparing the fatal drink but claimed to have merely made it and then placed it on the counter. Frances was in the kitchen when Reggie put the drink on the counter. Could Frances have poisoned it then? Frances and Scott needed the money to replace what they put into the business. Frances clearly had no problem stretching the truth—if not lying outright—if she thought it would help Scott. But would she go so far as to commit murder? Was she really capable of that?

  My eyes grew heavy and my thoughts became fuzzy and disjointed. Reggie floated by in a wedding gown trimmed with lilies. She stood under an enormous arbor upon which wild animals twisted and curved in gaudy relief. Laura and Miles stood behind her. Laura was smiling at Reggie. Miles was laughing at the arbor. Frances and Scott stood to Reggie’s left. Upon further reflection, I saw that Frances was standing on Michael. Scott didn’t seem to notice. Bonnie walked past them, a glass of wine in her hands. She didn’t notice Michael either. I tried to cry out, but Peter kissed me and I woke up.

  I blinked several times as Peter kissed me again. “Hey, sleepyhead, this is a nice surprise. I like coming home to you,” he said, nuzzling my neck.

  I tried to sit up. “What time is it?” I asked upon waking for the second time that day.

  Peter glanced at his watch. “Six thirty. I tried calling you on your cell, but it went to voice mail. I missed you.” He nuzzled my neck again.

  I closed my eyes and gave in to Peter’s kisses. In a moment I’d have to ruin the mood by telling him about Julian, but for now it was a welcome escape. Sometime later (never mind how much later, thank you very much) I said, “I have some news.”

  Peter caught the somber tone in my voice and groaned. “What now?”

  “Julian’s dead. Murdered, actually. With the same poison that was used on Bonnie.”

  Peter sat up in astonishment. “Are you kidding me? No, I can see from your face you’re not. Jesus Christ! And you’re just telling me now?”

  “I got distracted.”

  Peter smiled briefly. “When did it happen?”

  “Last night, I guess. The hotel maid found him this morning.”

  “Do the police have any idea who did it?”

  “Not that I know of. They took Ann’s statement and mine this afternoon, but I haven’t heard anything else since then.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have. Your cell phone is going straight to voice mail. Is it dead?”

  A nervous apprehension settled over me. I jumped up from the couch and grabbed my purse. As Peter said, my phone was indeed dead. I quickly unearthed my charger and plugged it into the nearest outlet. As the phone chirped to life, I saw that I had missed several calls. Four were from Peter. Two were from Ann. The first was to thank me for the food. The second was to tell me that Scott had been arrested for the murder of Julian and the attempted murder of Bonnie.

  Chapter 28

  Oh! dear; I was so miserable! I am sure I must have been as white as my gown.

  —Emma

  By the time Peter and I got to Uncle Marty’s house, everyone else was already there. Frances was hysterical, her usual poised tweedy façade in tatters. “He didn’t do it!” she kept crying to us all. “Scott wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Thing One and Thing Two hung on to their mother, their cries both loud and pitiful.

  “What exactly happened?” I asked Ann.

  “Apparently Scott went to the Ritz last night to talk to Julian,” she said. “They had a drink in the bar. The bartender remembered Scott.”

  “But it was my idea!” protested Frances. “I was the one who told him to go! I told him to meet with Julian and see if he could get him to see reason about the money.”

  “And did he?” I asked.

  Frances’s face darkened in anger. “No. He basically told Scott to go to hell, but in more colorful words. Scott left and came home. That’s all that happened!”

  But apparently Officer Daschle had other ideas. He’d arrested Scott and charged him with murder. Lawyers had been summoned, but bail had been summarily denied. With one murder and one attempted murder on their hands, the courts weren’t about to let the main suspect back on the streets.

  “What am I going to do?” Frances cried. “They can’t think Scott killed Julian! Oh, God, what if they try and pin Michael’s murder on him, too?”

  Miles put a fatherly arm around her shoulder. “Frances. Please, calm down. It’s going to be fine. The police have made a mistake—they’ve done it before and sadly they’ll do it again. But it doesn’t mean that the mistake can’t be rectified. We will get him out. There is no real evidence against him. Having a drink in a bar does not make him a murderer. No judge or jury would ever convict on such flimsy circumstantial evidence.”

  Frances said nothing. She turned her face into Miles’s shoulder and quietly sobbed. “It’s all my fault,” she moaned after a minute. “I was the one who told him to go. He didn’t even want to. I made him go and now he’s in jail!”

  At this, the boys began to cry louder. Hearing their cries jarred a memory from the night of the party. I’d already turned in for the night when I’d heard them crying—they’d been babies then. The crying kept up, and after a few minutes I got up and headed for their room. Scott was passed out on the bed and Frances wasn’t around. I was just soothing the boys when Frances appeared, somewhat out of breath. She’d quickly thanked me and hustled me out of the room. I hadn’t thought anything of it until now. The boys’ cries were so loud that she would have heard them had she been in the house. So if she wasn’t in the house, where had she been? And why had she lied about it? Was it just to cover for Scott, or was it to cover for her?

  “Frances, you had no idea that it would end up like this!” said Miles. “You were just trying to get the family’s money back. Don’t beat yourself up. That’s not what Scott needs right now. He needs you to be strong.”

  Frances gave a teary nod and made an attempt to pull herself together. “You’re right,” she said. “I can do this. We can clear all this up.”

  “Of course, we can,” Miles said.

  I knew I was probably going to regret this, but I had to ask. “Frances? The night of the party you said you were with Scott…” I paused, unsure how to continue.

  Frances looked at me in teary confusion at first, but then a seed of comprehension took root in her brain. She knew I’d remembered her absence. “Yes,” she said with deliberation, “I was with Scott all night. He and Michael fought, but he couldn’t have killed Michael.
” Her eyes pleaded for understanding. In a sense Scott’s fate was in my hands. I shut up.

  I glanced at Peter. I saw the doubt I felt about this statement reflected in his eyes. I had to admit, it didn’t look good.

  * * *

  We were allowed to visit Bonnie the next day. Ann, Aunt Winnie, and I arrived with flowers in hand. Bonnie lay quietly in her hospital bed, pale and dazed. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. Seeing us, she merely said, “Who did it?”

  Not sure what she knew yet in regard to Julian, Aunt Winnie said, “Who did what, honey?”

  “Who poisoned me?”

  “We don’t know what happened,” Aunt Winnie said gently. “We’re trying to figure that out.”

  “Then get out,” Bonnie said.

  “What?” asked Aunt Winnie.

  “You heard me. Get out. Until I know what happened, you can all just stay the hell away from me.” Bonnie jabbed at the call button on her bed. Moments later a harried-looking nurse appeared. Bonnie said, “I want these people out.”

  The nurse turned to us, her face apologetic but firm. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “It’s all right. We understand,” replied Aunt Winnie, setting the flowers on a table. “Bonnie, I’m really sorry. I hope you’re feeling better soon.”

  Bonnie turned her face toward the wall.

  * * *

  Bonnie was released from the hospital the next day. Upon her return, she kicked Ann and me out of the house and hired a day nurse. Phone calls were not returned.

  Ann returned to her house in Bethesda. I went back to the Jungle Room, which I now shared with Aunt Winnie. Having a giraffe with Graves’ disease stare at you while you slept was bad enough, but having to deal with that along with someone who kicked and hogged the covers—I could not tolerate the prospect of being so miserably crowded.

  “I don’t know how Randy puts up with you in bed,” I groused as I attempted to pull back my half of the comforter over me the next night.

  “I have had no complaints in that department,” Aunt Winnie replied with a mischievous grin. “Ever.”

  “Okay, first of all eww, and second of all … eww. My point is, you are impossible to sleep with.”

  “Back at you, babe. You snore.”

  “I do not!”

  “Then you speak to chain saws in your sleep. Call it what you like.”

  I rolled over and stared at the hippo. After a moment, I asked, “Do you think Scott did it?”

  “No,” Aunt Winnie said promptly. “Now if it was Frances who was sitting in jail charged with both murder and attempted murder and you asked me that, I might have a shadow of doubt. But not with Scott. Violence just isn’t in that boy’s blood.”

  “Who do you think did do it, then?”

  “I don’t know, honey. I really don’t know. It’s all so confusing. I’m not sure we know the real reason Bonnie was poisoned.”

  “Well, considering that Julian was poisoned, too, it would seem that it was because of the planned investment.”

  “But you don’t buy that, do you?” she asked.

  I thought about it. “No,” I said finally, “I don’t. I think it’s a dodge of sorts. I think we’re meant to think it’s about the money, but I don’t think that’ll turn out to be the real reason.”

  “So what is the real reason?”

  “I don’t know. I think it all goes back to Michael, though. I just haven’t figured out how yet.”

  Aunt Winnie sighed. “Well, let me know when you do. In the meantime, I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” With a baleful glance at the ceiling, she added, “Besides, that damn giraffe is giving me the creeps.”

  * * *

  Work the next day was a challenge, to say the least. Dickey returned, but rather than summon us all into the conference room, he just summoned me. Then he asked me to shut the door. I thought he was going to fire me. However, rather than experiencing a cold moment of fear at such a thought, my spirits actually soared. If that’s not a sign that it’s time to quit, then I don’t know what is.

  “Please have a seat, Ms. Parker,” Dickey said, gesturing to the empty seats around the table.

  I slid into the nearest chair to the door and adopted what I hoped was a politely interested expression.

  Dickey did not speak but rather tapped his pen on the table. I couldn’t be sure, but I think he was trying to play the percussion portion of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham! My politely interested expression began to slip. Finally he said, “Well, Ms. Parker, I suppose you know why I’ve called this meeting.”

  “Not really, sir.”

  Dickey’s eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. “I find that hard to believe, Ms. Parker. Well, you may pretend, but I will not.”

  I stared at Dickey with unfeigned astonishment. I felt a bit like Elizabeth when she has it out with Lady Catherine in the side garden.

  Dickey continued. “Well, I must say I would have thought that you of all people would be sensitive to the position your family has put our little paper in.”

  “My family? What position?”

  Dickey snorted at my question. I clearly wasn’t scoring any points with him today. Which, when I really stopped to think about it, was actually a point in my favor. “I am referring to the revolting matter of the arrest of your cousin’s husband. It’s all over the news how he tried to kill his mother-in-law and then went on to kill that other man.” Dickey glared at me as if I were somehow responsible.

  “Scott never poisoned anybody,” I replied evenly. “There’s been a terrible mistake.”

  “Well, that may be so,” Dickey said with a peevish expression. “But you can appreciate the delicate position it puts our paper in.”

  “Excuse me, but I don’t see how it affects anyone but our family.”

  Dickey’s mouth pulled into a frown and he slammed his pen onto the table. “If I may say so, that’s a very selfish attitude. We are getting ready to publish the first of our Significant Humans in Town series tomorrow, featuring none other than your great-uncle, and every paper in town is filled with coverage of this scandalous murder investigation featuring your family! I am your boss. I have a right to know about everything that affects this paper!”

  I stared at Dickey, dumbfounded. What the hell did he expect me to do about it? “Sir, I don’t think I understand exactly what you want me to do. If it’s a problem, pull the piece.”

  “I intend to. However, I will need something to run in its place.” He paused. The shoe dropped. The light dawned. I got it.

  “You want me to write a replacement piece?” I asked in astonishment.

  “By the end of day, please.”

  Sitting there in the conference room, with Dickey in his cheap suit and the faces on his vanity wall smiling down at me, something snapped. I did a quick calculation in my head regarding the contents of my savings account and stood up. “I’ve got a better idea for you,” I said, and then told him.

  Dickey sputtered in shock at my rather vulgar suggestion. I, however, felt better than I had in weeks.

  “You selfish, horrible girl! How dare you speak to me like that! How dare you quit on me like this! Have you no regard for me or this paper?”

  I was so tempted to snap back with, “I am only resolved to act in that manner which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me,” but I didn’t. Dickey wouldn’t get the reference. Instead, I turned without a word and walked out. I quickly stuffed my few belongings from my desk into an empty cardboard box, told Sam I’d call him later, and waved a cheerful good-bye to my former coworkers. Truth be told, I was on top of the world. It was like that scene in Bridget Jones’s Diary when she tells Daniel off and quits. With a cheeky grin, I picked up my box and headed for the elevators for the last time.

  It wasn’t until I got back to Kit’s house that I realized when I calculated my savings account in
my head, I carried a one that didn’t exist.

  Moron.

  * * *

  Kit was surprised to see me wander into the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Are you sick?” Pauly looked up from the table where he was eating a peanut butter and jelly and waved a sticky hello.

  I slid into the seat opposite him and said, “No, I’m perfectly fine, actually. I guess you could say I’m no longer one of the working-class drones. I am now a woman of leisure. A lady who lunches—”

  “You got fired!” Kit gasped. It would have been better if she hadn’t sounded as if she’d foreseen this day coming for some time.

  “No, I quit,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster.

  That got her attention. “Quit! In this economy? Are you crazy?”

  “Probably. But you’ve no idea what I just went through.” I quickly told her about Dickey and his stupid SHIT and all the rest of it. When I finished, she said, “What an…” Glancing at Pauly, she rethought her words. “Very bad man,” she amended.

  “That’s kind of what I thought,” I said.

  “Well, don’t you worry about a thing. You can stay here—rent free—until you find another job. And you will find another job, one you’ll like better. I still can’t believe that idiot took you to task for … oh, well, it’s not worth discussing. My point is that you can and you will do better.” She paused. “I know! We’ll treat this like a celebration. I’ll go to the store and get us something nice for dinner and then I’ll rent some silly movie for us all to watch.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Kit, but you don’t have to do all that…”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s my pleasure. That’s what family is for. Now, you just go relax. Hit the hot tub or something. Aunt Winnie is out shopping. I’ll take Pauly with me so you can have the house to yourself. How about I invite Peter?”

  I got up from my chair and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Kit. This is really nice of you.”

  Kit shrugged off my thanks and headed out to the store with Pauly. As I went to my room, I wished she could always be so supportive of people, but Kit is one of those people who shine only when your world is messed up. She revels in playing the role of motherly helper. Mainly because it makes her feel better in comparison. It’s when you’re on top of the world that she gets all snarky.