King of Murder

by Byars, Betsy

  That didn’t stop his mother. “And in all those years since your father deserted us, did she ever ask a favor of me?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Now, she asks one tiny favor. Her niece Steffie is visiting and she wants to arrange an outing. She thinks of you, Albert. You think I could say no?”

  “Obviously not,” Meat said.

  “Don’t try to be smart.”

  “I’m not trying to be smart, Mom. I’m just trying to stay alive in the Dark Ages.”

  “You mark my words. When you get home this afternoon, you’ll thank me for a wonderful afternoon.”

  It seemed unlikely, but Meat said, “I hope so.”

  9

  QUESTIONS WITHOUT ANSWERS

  Uncle Neiman and Herculeah were silent for a moment, thinking about what had just been said. Their comments lay heavily between them, yet neither one took back their statement.

  “What else did the woman say?” Herculeah prompted.

  “I’m trying to remember her exact words, but she was at the back of the room. I do remember that she said the police had ruled her friend’s death a homicide, and that the murder weapon—a knife—was never found. Ever since she had read A Slash of Life, she had wondered if he knew anything about that. It was almost as if she was accusing him of having the knife.

  “Mathias King said, ‘In my book, the knife was found in the victim’s back, not her chest.’

  “I don’t believe I mentioned that my friend was stabbed in the chest. How did you know that? the woman said.

  “ ‘Thank you for your interest and questions,’ he said firmly. It was as if he’d closed the door on further questions, but she was determined to push it open.

  “The woman went on to say that all the details of the house in the book were exactly the things in her friend’s house—even a large jade Buddha in the front hallway. She said she didn’t know how he could have gotten those exact details unless he had been there. ‘Were you ever in my friend’s house?’ She asked that point-blank. Then she added, ‘She lived on—’ and gave the name of the street—it was Hawthorn or Oak or some tree.”

  “Did he answer?”

  “No, and after that he didn’t take any more questions—just turned to me and said, ‘Isn’t this supposed to be a signing?’ And he leaned forward and pulled a fountain pen from behind a woman’s ear.

  “Later, after the audience had left, he came up to me and asked who the inquisitive woman was. I told him.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “I remember his exact words: ‘Hmmmm. Interesting.”’

  Herculeah listened intently. “Do you still remember the woman’s name who asked the questions?”

  “Oh, yes. I met her before the signing. I remember her name because she had the same name as one of my favorite movie stars—Rita Hayworth. She said all her friends at the Downs call her Gilda—that was Hayworth’s best role.”

  “Rita Hayworth, and she lives at Magnolia Downs. Where is that exactly?”

  “Take the Eastmont bus. It stops right at Peachford Street.”

  “Well, this has really been helpful,” Herculeah said. “Not only did I get the book, but I got a lead to a mystery I’m trying to solve.”

  The bell above the door jangled as a customer entered the shop, and Herculeah said, “Oh, you’ve got another customer. Don’t let me take up all of your time.”

  “They can wait.”

  “I’m sorry that Meat—I mean, your nephew Albert—couldn’t come with me. He had a dental appointment.”

  “I thought Sears said he was going on a—” He broke off as a customer came around the stacks.

  Herculeah was so shocked at hearing the word “Sears” that she didn’t take in what Uncle Neiman had said.

  Herculeah knew that Meat’s mom and her sisters and brothers had all been named for stores. Uncle Neiman had been named for Neiman Marcus, and there was a Tiffany and a Macy.

  Herculeah had been fascinated. She’d known people named for states, even cities, but stores?

  She had found out, after begging Meat, that his mother’s name was Sears. Meat had told her to never, ever mention this because nobody was supposed to know, and his mother would be terribly upset if anyone ever, ever called her Sears.

  She couldn’t believe that Uncle Neiman had said the forbidden word.

  “I didn’t think anybody was supposed to say her name,” she said.

  “I’m her brother. I’ve been saying her name all my life.” He smiled at her. “But you’d better not say it.”

  “Oh, I won’t.”

  The customer, empty-handed, waited until their conversation was over. Then she said, “You don’t have one single Mathias King book.”

  “She just got the last one,” Uncle Neiman said.

  Herculeah smiled and said, “Sorry.”

  “What’d you get?”

  Herculeah held up the book.

  “Oh, A Slash of Life. I’ve read that two times. It’s scary.”

  “I’ve read it, too, and it is scary, but so is the man who wrote it.”

  The woman laughed. “You must have met Mathias King. Well, I guess I’ll have to look for something else.”

  More people were entering the shop, so Herculeah said, “I’d better be going. Good-bye, and thanks again for the book.”

  “You are more than welcome.”

  Herculeah was already out the door when she wondered what the last half of Uncle Neiman’s sentence would have been. “I thought Sears said he was going on a—”

  Oh, well, sooner or later she would find out the answer to that question. Now she had to get to Magnolia Downs and find the answer to murder.

  10

  PUSHING UP THE SKY

  “I’m looking for a Miss Rita Hayworth,” Herculeah told the woman at the desk.

  Magnolia Downs had a big airy front parlor. It looked more like a Southern mansion than a place for retired people. Herculeah realized she didn’t know any retired people—the older people she knew in her neighborhood ran businesses out of their homes—Cakes by Cheri; One-Hour Dentals; her mother’s Mim Jones, Private Investigator.

  Well, maybe Meat’s mother, Sears, could be considered retired. Anyway, Sears didn’t work. Herculeah took a deep breath. I’ve got to stop thinking of her as Sears or I’ll slip and call her that, she told herself.

  The woman said, “I believe she just went to her Tai Chi class. That’s in the sun room—past the dining room and to your right.”

  Herculeah walked down the hall and peered into the sun room. The class of men and women were lined up in two rows.

  “Were you looking for someone?” the teacher asked. She was a short, cheerful woman. Her white hair looked like one of those bowl haircuts Herculeah had read about from the old days. Moms would cut their kids’ hair by putting a bowl on the kid’s head and cutting around it.

  “Yes, but it can wait,” Herculeah said. “I don’t want to disturb the class.”

  “Well, join us. Are you familiar with Tai Chi?”

  “No, but I’ll try anything.”

  “I like that attitude.”

  Herculeah walked to the back of the class. She slipped off her backpack and dropped it to the floor.

  “We’ll warm up with the move known as the Wind in the Willows.”

  Everyone began swinging their arms, and Herculeah did, too. Tai Chi wasn’t as hard as she thought it was going to be. She had envisioned people kicking at each other. She didn’t especially want to be kicked—even by an elderly person.

  “The energy originates in your feet, issues through your waist, and expresses itself in your arms.”

  As Herculeah swung her arms, she looked around at the members of the Tai Chi class, trying to figure out which one was Rita Hayworth. She settled on the tall, thin woman in the front row who looked like energy was really expressing itself in her arms. Herculeah could imagine that woman standing up in Death’s Door and confronting Mathias King.

  �
��Our next warm-up move is Pushing Up the Sky. Inhale when your hand pushes up; exhale when it comes down.”

  Herculeah wished Meat were here to push up the sky with her, but he was still at the dentist’s office. She’d tried to call him after she left Death’s Door.

  Before she had the sky as high as she wanted it, Herculeah found herself doing the Turtle, then the Elephant Raises His Trunk. Then on to Gathering and Storing, and Sun and Moon Hands. There was no end to the different ways you could move your body.

  When the class was over, Herculeah asked the woman beside her, “Is Rita Hayworth here today?”

  “Oh, yes, she’s always here.”

  “Is that her on the end of the front row?”

  “No, Rita Hayworth is our teacher. Gilda, this young lady is looking for you.”

  The teacher came over. “I really enjoyed your class,” Herculeah said. “Thanks for letting me join you.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  “I wasn’t too good on Crane Opening His Wings, but I remember Gathering and Storing and I’m going to do that at home.”

  “It’s one of our most important moves. Remember to let your feet claw the earth. You want to feel rooted—like a giant tree.” She made clawing motions with her hands.

  “I actually did feel sort of treelike.” Herculeah smiled. “Course I’m so tall, I often feel treelike.”

  Rita Hayworth looked at her with bright eyes. “So, who are you and why did you want to see me?”

  “I should have introduced myself. I’m Herculeah Jones.”

  “What a lovely name. I’ve never heard it before. Is it a family name?”

  “Not really. My mom doesn’t like me to tell this, but she was watching a Hercules movie in the hospital while she was waiting for me to be born. After she went in the delivery room, Mom was kidding around about naming me Hercules if I was a boy. And the nurse asked what she was going to name me if I was a girl, and out of the clear blue Mom said, ‘If it’s a girl, I’ll name her Herculeah.’ They were having fun with it and the doctor said, ‘How about Samson? I’ve never delivered a Samson before.’ He broke into a Russian song, ‘Oh, Samson-ya.’ Then when I was born and I was such a big strong baby, Herculeah seemed just right.”

  “It’s a very beautiful name. And what can I do for you, Herculeah?” She gave the name such a beautiful pronunciation that it made Herculeah very glad she wasn’t Samson-ya.

  “Well, I was in Death’s Door today—”

  “The bookstore.”

  “Yes, and Uncle Neiman was telling me that you came to a signing for Mathias King.”

  “That I did.”

  “And you asked him some questions that seemed to make him uneasy.”

  “That they did.”

  “Well, I wanted to pick your brain about that. I want you to tell me everything you know about Mathias King.”

  “Even if it’s unpleasant? I do not like that man.”

  “Especially if it’s unpleasant,” Herculeah answered firmly.

  11

  THE WORST WORD IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

  It was very hard to get Rita Hayworth to return to the topic of Mathias King.

  Herculeah and Gilda were now in Gilda’s car. After they left the sun room, Gilda had said, “Oh, I’ve got to go into town and pick up something at the cleaners. I’ll give you a lift and we can talk on the way.”

  “That would be great,” Herculeah had said. “I came out on the bus, and I didn’t take time to check the return schedule. I was in such a hurry to talk to you.”

  Gilda guided the car out of the parking lot at Magnolia Downs with one hand. “I have to tell you why I’ve got to go into town.”

  “Sure.” Herculeah sighed. That wasn’t what she wanted to talk about, but she was saving bus fare and a boring ride into town.

  “Tomorrow night is stunt night at Magnolia Downs. And last stunt night I did my take-off on Rita Hayworth. In one of her movies she did a number called ‘Put the Blame on Mame,’ and she wore this slinky black dress and slinky long gloves, and it was sort of a striptease. So I got the video and I had Rita Hayworth on the TV screen doing her number and I did a sort of take-off in front of her. I know it’s hard to imagine me in a slinky black dress, sexily removing my gloves and swinging them around in the air, but that was what was so funny. It was a hoot, which is about all you can hope to be when you’re my age—I’m eighty-four.”

  She turned a corner, narrowly missing a bus. Herculeah remembered her wild ride with Uncle Neiman. She checked her seat belt.

  “Anyway, everybody wants me to do it again, and my black dress and gloves are at the cleaners.”

  She sounded her horn at a pedestrian. “Now what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  At last. “Mathias King,” Herculeah said.

  “Ah, yes. You want to know everything I know about Mr. King.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Actually most of what I have is suspicion.”

  “Me, too,” Herculeah admitted.

  “Well, Mathias King wrote a book called A Slash of Life.”

  “I reread most of it on my bus ride out here.”

  “Well, maybe it was just coincidence, but a very dear friend of mine since childhood, Rebecca Carwell, died in a similar way.”

  “Stabbed?”

  “Yes, but that wasn’t all. The house he described was like her house. No, it was her house. And there were details about the house that he couldn’t have known about unless he had been inside it. The burgundy damask curtains, the huge Buddha in the entrance hall. The more I read the book—and I’ve read it four or five times—the more certain I become that he knew Rebecca.”

  “Maybe he did.”

  “But it’s still only a suspicion.” She ran one hand through her bowl haircut. “He came out to Magnolia Downs a few years ago—he did a magic show one evening after supper. This was before he became the Murder King.”

  “He did a little magic in Hidden Treasures yesterday. He almost choked my friend.”

  “He’s quite good, but what I’ve been trying to remember is whether Rebecca was there that evening. She frequently came out to have supper with me, and if she was there for the magic show, it would be just like her to look him up later.”

  “I can tell that you miss your friend.”

  “I do.” She broke off abruptly and said, “You know I just had an inspiration.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have a key to Rebecca’s house. The house was closed for investigation, but it’s on the market now, and it’s exactly as it was when she died.”

  They were stopped at an intersection now, and Gilda turned her bright eyes to Herculeah.

  “I haven’t been inside the house since Rebecca was killed-I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. But if you’d go with me ...”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “It might give us inspiration.”

  Herculeah glanced out the car window and straightened. She peered out the window as Gilda turned the corner.

  “Oh, there’s my friend—the one I was telling you about! He must be out of the dentist!”

  “You want to pick him up?”

  “No, just let me out! I’ve got so much to tell him.”

  “Are you sure it was your friend? You didn’t get a very good look at him.”

  “I’d know my friend if I only saw him for a second. I’d recognize him from a mile away.”

  “He must be a very good friend.”

  “Oh, he is.”

  Actually, she had only seen the back of his head, but he was holding it in an upbeat, happy way, so his visit to the dentist probably hadn’t been too bad. He would be glad to see her.

  Gilda pulled the car over to the curb.

  Herculeah said, “Thank you for the ride. And I would very much like to see the inside of the house where the murder occurred. Our phone’s listed in my mom’s name—Mim Jones.”

  “I’ll give you a call.”

  “And ca
n I bring my friend? He had to miss out on all this—going to Death’s Door, doing Tai Chi—all because he had a stupid dentist appointment.”

  “Bring him along by all means.”

  “Thanks.”

  Herculeah swirled out of the car, shut the car door, and started running. She could call out Meat’s name—that would stop him—but she always enjoyed taking him by surprise.

  She got closer. Now she could see his shoulders—he was definitely in a good mood, because Meat’s shoulders had a tendency to sag when things weren’t going well. Then the crowd parted. She could see him clearly now and she could see that—

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She stopped in place. She blinked as if to clear her vision. She could not believe what she saw.

  As she stood there, frozen in place, she realized that Uncle Neiman had been right. Meat hadn’t gone to the dentist at all. She remembered his exact words: “I thought Sears said he was going on a—”

  And now at last, she could finish the sentence with what had suddenly become the most despicable word in the English language. Her brain seemed almost to spit out the word.

  “—date.”

  Meat McMannis had gone on a date.

  Then as he and the date were getting into the car, the date turned as if to say something to Meat. Instead she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes seemed to ignore the rest of the sidewalk crowd and focus directly on Herculeah.

  Herculeah felt as if she was being appraised, appraised and found wanting, as if she were an item on the sale table at Hidden Treasures, as if there was a sign around her neck that read AS IS.

  Then Meat and the girl got into the car, and the car pulled away from the curb. Herculeah stood there staring after the departing car.

  Herculeah prided herself on her ability to maintain control no matter what the situation. But her body sometimes betrayed her. Her hair frizzled. Her throat tightened. Her blood ran cold. Her heart pounded.

  Now her face was flushed. Herculeah didn’t even have to put her hand up to her cheek to know it would be hot.

  She kept standing there long after the car had disappeared in traffic. She would have kept standing there for the rest of her life, perhaps, if a car’s horn hadn’t sounded beside her.