Death in a Difficult Position

by Diana Killian

  “Those silly tabloid stories.” Elysia’s foot slightly eased up on the gas. “Don’t believe everything you read.”

  “I don’t, but according to Mr. Meagher, you were a wee bit of lass in the old days.” A.J. mimicked Mr. Meagher’s Irish lilt.

  Elysia’s mouth struggled to maintain its severe line.

  A.J. watched her, her own mouth curving. “Look, I know you’re not asking for my advice, but don’t do this. You know how much Mr. Meagher thinks of you. You’re going to hurt him if you tell him that Sarah only got involved with him because she was on the rebound. It might not even be true anymore. Maybe she does care for him now.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Elysia said darkly. “She’s still rebounding.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Little Cholesterol-Laden-Butter-Wouldn’t-Melt-in-Her-Mouth-Sarah just happened to run into Dean last night when he went for a pint at Terry Mac’s Pool Room. Does she look to you like a girl who plays pool?”

  A.J. was wondering why Dean seemed to be making a habit of taking off for Terry Mac’s. Was he uncomfortable drinking in front of Elysia? Once, A.J. had felt the same, unwilling to do anything that might tempt her mother. She had even agonized over whether to serve champagne at her wedding.

  Or maybe there was another reason Dean was getting restless in the evenings.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. A lot of girls play pool.”

  “A lot of girls do not play pool at Terry Mac’s. And no. She does not.” Elysia answered her own question. “She’s a sl—”

  “Maybe she is, but it’s for Mr. Meagher to figure that out on his own.” Studying her mother’s stubborn profile, A.J. said, “Why don’t we go talk to Michaela Ritchie? We have this great lead. Don’t you want to follow it up?”

  Elysia said sulkily, “Shouldn’t you call the inspector?”

  “I’ll call him afterward. Mocha, Michaela’s stepdaughter, is a student of mine, so I have a legitimate reason for seeing her.”

  Elysia brightened. “Oh very well. We might as well interview her. The plod will only bungle it and put her on guard.”

  A.J. wisely let that ride.

  “Lay on, Macduff, and damned be he who cries, ‘Hold! Enough!’ ”

  “Sir Francis Bacon?” A.J. pretended to guess.

  Elysia smiled and patted her knee comfortingly.

  As was only to be expected, the Ritchies lived in a newly constructed and ostentatiously oversized mansion built—according to the sign out front—by Leo Ritchie Construction.

  Michaela was out in the leaf-strewn front yard when Elysia and A.J. pulled up in the driveway. She wore gray sweats and carried dangerous-looking loppers, which she was using to prune the long hedge of roses that lined the white picket fence facing the road.

  She shaded her eyes from the shifting sunshine as she stared at the Land Rover in her driveway.

  “She’s not going to be easy to crack.” A.J. lifted a hand in greeting. “Just so you know.”

  “We’ve faced tougher,” Elysia said carelessly, reaching for the door handle.

  They got out of the Land Rover and walked toward the side fence. Michaela strolled unhurriedly toward them.

  “Ms. Alexander. Is there a problem?”

  “Not at all,” A.J. called back. “I was hoping you might be able to spare a few minutes to chat about Mocha.”

  Michaela’s dark eyebrows rose. “Of course. You realize that she’s with one of your instructors in Burlington today giving a statement to the police?”

  “I do, yes. In fact, that’s really why I wanted to speak to you.”

  Michaela opened the gate for them and A.J. and Elysia entered the yard.

  “What lovely roses,” Elysia remarked.

  “Mrs. Ritchie, this is my mother, Elysia Alexander.”

  Michaela threw Elysia an indifferent look. But then astonishment came over her face. Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. “Lucy Bannon,” she gasped. A nine-year-old in 1976 confronted by Farrah Fawcett, complete with red swimsuit, couldn’t have looked more delightfully awed.

  “Why, yes. Are you a fan of the show?” Elysia inquired graciously.

  “Of course! I love the show. We TiVo it.” Michaela led the way into the house, asking Elysia various questions about the other cast members and certain episodes.

  Following a few steps behind, A.J. began to think Michaela was not nearly as tough a nut as she’d anticipated.

  The house was immaculate and tastefully furnished. No dust bunnies lurked beneath Michaela Ritchie’s sevenpiece pedestal-style dining set, and even the thick pile of the chocolate brown carpet looked unsullied by mortal footsteps.

  They settled in the spacious kitchen’s breakfast nook. Michaela poured coffee and opened a bag of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies. She might have gone on talking about Golden Gumshoes all afternoon—and Elysia might have let her—if A.J. hadn’t finally broken in.

  “How is Mocha dealing with what happened this weekend?”

  “Mocha?” Michaela said vaguely. She contemplatively nibbled a cookie. “She views it as a way to skip a day of school, I imagine. That’s usually her angle.”

  “She’s not experiencing any symptoms of stress?”

  “Hardly,” Michaela said dryly. “Mocha doesn’t experience stress. She’s a carrier.”

  Lovely.

  A.J. pressed onward. “Still. Most of us were shocked and scared being shot at. It’s not a normal experience.”

  “No.” Michaela shrugged. “No, it’s not, but she’s a kid. A weird kid at that. I think, if anything, she’s enjoying a sense of celebrity.” Her gaze went automatically back to Elysia, who was calmly consuming the last of the cookies.

  “Did she tell you that she thought she saw the Jersey Devil?”

  A.J. said it mostly to shake Michaela’s self-satisfied poise. And she succeeded. Michaela’s expression froze. Even Elysia did a double take.

  “Yes. It’s ridiculous.” Michaela’s voice was harsh.

  “You know that and I know that, but Mocha was scared out of her wits.”

  “No, she wasn’t. She said it for attention. That’s why she does all the things she does.”

  “I was there.”

  Michaela said in that same harsh tone, “I know my stepdaughter.”

  “Well, after all,” A.J. said mildly, “lots of people seem to think they’ve seen the Jersey Devil lately. You must have heard about the attack on the Baumann farm. And even your very dear friend the late David Goode claimed the monster tried to break into his home.”

  Elysia raised her coffee cup, hiding her expression.

  Michaela stared at A.J. for long seconds. “What do you mean”—her voice steadied—“my ‘very dear friend.’ ”

  “You and David Goode were having a relationship, weren’t you?”

  In the sudden silence A.J. could hear the clock ticking over the refrigerator and, in the distance, the buzz of a power saw. Elysia’s eyes met A.J.’s. She arched one eyebrow. A.J. looked back at Michaela, who was still wrestling with some kind of inner turmoil.

  “Who told you that?” Michaela asked finally.

  “Someone who used to see you together.”

  “It’s not true. They’re lying.”

  “You waited far too long to deny it, you know,” Elysia told her cheerfully. “It obviously is true.”

  Michaela’s lips parted. She licked them. “Why are you—this doesn’t have anything to do with anything.” Her eyes widened. “Are you telling me Mocha is the one who saw us?”

  “No. Of course not.” A.J. said it very firmly. Mocha and her stepmother had enough of a rocky relationship without adding that into the mix.

  Michaela relaxed a fraction. “It doesn’t matter. The affair was over before David died.”

  “Really?”

  Michaela’s brows drew together. “Why? What have you heard? What did this witness say?”

  A.J. took a chance. “That you were still seeing each other. That it was still goi
ng strong on both sides.”

  “Then they don’t know what they’re talking about. I ended the relationship with David.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m married!”

  “You were married when you started the relationship.”

  Michaela licked her lips again. “I know, but that was different. You don’t understand the . . . magnetism a man like David wields.”

  No, A.J. didn’t understand it, but it was obvious from the little they knew of Goode’s background that some women did find him all but irresistible.

  “How did he take your breaking up with him?”

  “He didn’t believe it.”

  “When did you break the relationship off?”

  “Two days before he died.”

  Remembering something Jake had said, A.J. asked, “How did you do it?”

  “What do you mean?” Michaela looked aghast. “What are you implying? I didn’t do anything!”

  “I mean, did you break up with Goode in person?”

  Michaela relaxed a fraction. She shook her head. “I did it by e-mail. I know that’s not what Miss Manners recommends.”

  “I think she’s down on the whole adultery thing,” A.J. couldn’t help observing.

  Michaela didn’t register it. “Frankly? I didn’t trust myself to do it in person. David could be incredibly persuasive.”

  Not a bad thing in a missionary. Not so good in a philanderer.

  “So someone else could have seen that e-mail?”

  “We used a special Hotmail account.”

  No pun intended? A.J. kept the thought to herself. Just as she withheld the information that the police had already figured out Goode’s Hotmail account and were checking into the alibis of his various lady friends.

  “Did your husband know?” Elysia inquired.

  Michaela started as though she’d forgotten Elysia was present.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. For one thing Leo never stops working long enough to notice what anyone in this house is doing. And that includes his darling daughter. For another, if Leo did discover something like this, he’d never be able to keep his mouth shut. He’s not what you would call subtle.”

  “Do you think, if he did discover the affair, your husband might have confronted Goode?” A.J. asked.

  “No. I certainly don’t. What are you suggesting? That Leo killed David? That’s ridiculous. That yoga instructor killed him. It was all over the news.”

  “That doesn’t make it true,” A.J. said.

  “It does in my book.”

  A.J. thought back to the beginning of the conversation. She remembered Michaela’s odd expression when she’d heard about Mocha claiming to see the Jersey Devil.

  “Why are you so sure that Mocha is lying about seeing something when we were camping? Goode claimed the same thing.”

  Michaela looked momentarily bewildered by the change of topic. “Because it’s obviously not true.”

  “Goode thought it was. He went on TV claiming the Jersey Devil was a sign from above. Do you think he was saying it for attention?”

  “Of course not. But . . . these sightings are pranks. Teenage pranks.” Michaela lifted her chin. “And the reason that I think Mocha is lying is because I believe she’s involved in these pranks.”

  Twenty

  “That was masterful, pumpkin!” Elysia threw the gears in reverse and backed out of the Ritchies’ driveway with a fine disregard for the flow of traffic in the road behind them. “The way you segued from monsters to adultery was absolutely marvelous. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

  A.J. threw her mother an ironic look. “Thank you.”

  “Do you think it’s true about your little protégée? That she’s running about manufacturing these Jersey Devil sightings?”

  “No. And she’s not my protégée. She might be Jaci’s protégée. And Suze’s protégée. But that kid was definitely frightened out of her wits on Saturday night.”

  “Guilty conscience?”

  “Maybe,” A.J. said reluctantly. “But the thing I can’t forget is that two of the Baumanns’ cows were slaughtered. It’s one thing to run around in a costume, pop out, and yell boo at people. It’s another to kill animals. That’s serialkiller-in-training-type stuff, from everything I’ve seen on TV, and I don’t think Mocha fits that profile. She’s a sweet kid underneath all the eye makeup and attitude. Not to mention the fact that she doesn’t seem to have friends, so I don’t see her being invited along on these juvenile delinquent outings that her stepmother suspects her of.”

  “No friends?”

  “Not a one, that I can discover. She seems to be the classic case of the lonely fat kid. A lonely, rich, fat kid.”

  “That’s a child who might be willing to do almost anything to fit in.”

  “Sure. Logically, what you’re saying makes sense, but I was watching her, listening to her on the retreat. She might be willing to do anything to fit in, but part of her bitterness and anger at her peers is that no one is asking her to. She’s being ostracized. And she reacts by making herself more unpleasant.”

  “It seems to me you’re proving my argument.”

  “I know. I guess what it gets down to is I’ve been working with people, all kinds of people, for a long time. Both when I was freelancing and now that I’m teaching. Maybe it’s naïve of me, but Mocha just doesn’t strike me as malicious or mean-hearted. She was cooing over baby deer on the hike and pointing out every bird we came across. Kids like that are more likely to hurt other kids than an animal.”

  “That’s a shrewd observation, pumpkin. Have it your way. Who is behind these sightings, then?”

  A.J. sighed. “I’m not saying that it couldn’t be local kids behind it. We’ve had problems with them before.”

  They were both silent for a moment.

  A.J. said briskly, “But I don’t think Mocha is involved. I think her stepmother has a warped view of her.”

  “I’m rather good with adolescents,” Elysia said thoughtfully, speeding around a slow-moving van. “Perhaps I should try to work with the girl.”

  A.J. squelched her instinctive alarm. As a matter of fact, Elysia was rather good with adolescents even if her approach was sort of unorthodox. “I’m not sure how we’d arrange that, but sure. She needs friends. People who care about her. Suze and Jaci have taken her under their wings, and I can see a change for the better already.”

  “We all need to be loved and appreciated,” Elysia said. “Do you think there’s a connection between Goode’s murder and these Jersey Devil sightings?”

  “I don’t see how. And yet it seems too great a coincidence for them not to be connected.”

  “What could anyone hope to gain by running around the countryside impersonating a monster?”

  A.J. shook her head. “The only thing that occurs to me is tourism. Obviously something like this gets attention.” She felt around in her purse for her phone. “I guess I should call Jake and confess.”

  Elysia clicked her tongue dismissingly. “Are you coming by tonight?”

  “The farm? Why?”

  “The girls are leaving tomorrow.”

  “Is the slumber party over?”

  Elysia seemed to consider this. She said at last, “It’s been years since I’ve had close friends. It’s rather nice.”

  “I know. I’m teasing you. I’m glad you’re so happy. And, if you want the truth, I guess I’m a little jealous.”

  “Jealous?” Elysia threw a startled look A.J.’s way.

  “Yes. Not of you being happy. I don’t mean that. We’ve only in this last year really started getting to know each other again. Now you have a new career out in California. You have a whole new social circle of friends there. And you’re planning to remarry.”

  “Er, yes,” Elysia said vaguely.

  “So yes, I guess there’s a tiny part of me that is jealous of all these other people and obligations claiming their
share of you.”

  “You come first, pumpkin. You always will. That goes without saying. But you’ll be getting remarried yourself before long.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  Elysia said dryly, “Maybe you should ask your inspector.”

  It turned out that A.J. couldn’t ask her inspector anything because Jake didn’t pick up his phone. Confessions were better made in person, so she hung up and reassured herself that discretion was the better part of valor.

  Elysia urged her once more to come to dinner, but A.J. declined a final evening with the girls as she had to pick up Monster from Stella Borin, who had been watching him while she was away on the retreat.

  “When is Dean leaving?” she asked very casually.

  “You do keep asking that,” Elysia said, equally casual. “Do you not care for him?”

  “He seems perfectly nice. Not exactly what I was picturing when I imagined a future stepfather.”

  “Did you picture a future stepfather?”

  “No. And I will say he’s a big improvement over your last steady.”

  “Oh.” Elysia’s laugh was slightly self-conscious. “Poor Dicky.”

  “I don’t even want to think about poor Dicky. Are you bringing Dean to Andy’s on Thanksgiving?”

  “I suppose so.”

  At the note of hesitation in Elysia’s voice, A.J. said, “Or were you thinking you two needed some time alone? Andy will understand.”

  “No, no. Nothing like that,” Elysia said briskly.

  “What, then?”

  Elysia made a small grimace. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m too old to remarry.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You know, I’ve been on my own quite a while now. I rather like having things my own way.”

  A.J. chuckled. “Dean seems pretty easygoing.”

  “No man is that easygoing.” Elysia added reflectively, “Dean was married before, you know.”

  “I gathered that from something he said at lunch the other day.”

  “I don’t know how useful the experience was. He was quite young. Sixteen, as a matter of fact.”

  “Seriously? Sixteen. How does that even happen in this day and age?”