Murder, My Suite

by Mary Daheim

  Renie returned, her round face apologetic. “Tessa hasn’t seen Rover since last night.”

  Dagmar leaped to her feet, but had to lean on the table for support. “Call the police! If they can’t find out who killed Agnes, the least they can do is recover Rover!”

  Renie gave Judith a questioning look. Judith nodded. “Go ahead, coz. Under ordinary circumstances, missing pets are probably the local constabulary’s biggest problem.” Too late, she realized the tactlessness of her remark. But Dagmar was too absorbed in her own troubles to notice. She was watching Renie’s progress to the phone very closely.

  Renie didn’t have much luck with the police. A harried voice that sounded as if it belonged to Devin O’Connor took the report but rang off abruptly.

  Renie eyed Dagmar. “He said something about missing persons being more important than missing dogs.”

  “Well, I never!” Dagmar pounded the table. “There are any number of human beings I know who aren’t worth one-tenth of—Oh!” She realized that Renie was still staring. “Do you mean—me?”

  Renie poured herself another cup of coffee. “That’s my guess. I suppose Tessa reported you missing. When I went to check on Rover, I told her you were here, but maybe she hasn’t called the police back yet.”

  With a sigh, Judith went to the phone. “It isn’t fair to let them continue a search when the problem’s solved. The police have enough to do with the murder investigation.” She punched in the local number. “Though I notice their officers don’t seem to conduct inquiries by taking suspects out for—Yes, is this Devin O’Connor?”

  Dagmar was on the edge of her chair. “Don’t let them call off the search for Rover! Do you want a description?”

  “I already told them,” Renie said in a vexed tone. She sat back down at the table, sipping her coffee.

  For some reason, it wasn’t easy to explain the situation to Devin O’Connor. In fairness to Judith, he seemed distracted. In the background, she heard the word “weapon,” and pounced.

  “You found the homicide weapon?” Judith was breathless.

  But they had not. What they had found was that the champagne bottle discarded near the lift hadn’t been used to bludgeon Agnes. Not that they ever thought it was, but all the same, the police had run the bottle through the lab. Did the no-longer-missing Ms. Chatsworth want it back?

  Dagmar scorned the champagne. “How could I?” she asked bleakly. “Why would I want to drink champagne now that Agnes is dead and Rover is missing?”

  Judith replaced the receiver and sat down next to Dagmar. “They’ll do everything they can to find Rover,” she said. “Really, he can’t have gone very far.” The truth was that Devin O’Connor had seemed indifferent to Rover’s disappearance.

  Dagmar stood up. “I must get dressed and go look for him myself. If you can’t trust the police to find Agnes’s killer, then you can’t expect them to find my goo-goo baby.”

  Dagmar’s logic eluded Judith, but she didn’t say so. “I’ll walk you home,” she volunteered.

  The morning was fresh and sunny, with only a few wispy white clouds drifting over the mountains. Judith took a deep breath, savoring the mingled scent of summer flowers and evergreen trees.

  “I’ve never been to Minneapolis,” she remarked as they crossed the courtyard. “Was your husband from there, too?”

  “My husband?” Dagmar seemed startled. “Oh, yes, he was. Definitely.”

  “My first husband was from Arizona,” Judith said. “His mother still lives there. My second husband is from—” She caught herself before saying something she’d regret. It occurred to Judith that after living with Dan, she could put up with just about anything from Joe. Or could she? Dan had been a horror in many ways, but she’d never questioned his fidelity. She’d never had to. No one else would have wanted him.

  “Sorry,” Judith apologized. “I lost my train of thought. You were saying that your husband…did what? Died?”

  They had arrived on the short walkway to the unit occupied by Karl and Tessa. “I wasn’t saying,” Dagmar replied somewhat testily. “But you’re right, he died.” She paused, a finger hovering over the buzzer next to the Kreagers’ door. “It was very sad. My late husband was a wonderful man. He died too young. He just…wasted away.” Her eyes became dewy.

  “My first husband didn’t waste away,” Judith responded. “In fact, he didn’t have a waist. He weighed over four hundred pounds when he died.”

  “Really.” Dagmar pushed the buzzer; the faint chime could be heard inside.

  Tessa came to the door, looking as grim as ever. “Well, there you are. We were worried.” She yanked the door open wide, then scanned the walkway with suspicious eyes. “You didn’t bring Rover with you, I hope. You know I won’t allow him on our white rug.”

  Dagmar pushed past Tessa. “If I had Rover, would I be upset? I can’t believe you’re so fussy! What on earth could my poor doggy do on your carpet?”

  “Just that, for one thing,” snapped Tessa. She turned to Judith, who was still on the porch. “Well? Are you going to come in or what?”

  Judith was actually trying to picture Tessa Van Heusen as a revolutionary Spotted Leopard. Only vaguely could she imagine the pristine blond curls hanging long and limp at Tessa’s waist, or the crisp beige linen slacks and tailored shirt traded in for battle fatigues.

  “I probably should go back to our place,” Judith said lamely. “Uh—how’s Karl this morning?”

  “Fine,” Tessa replied, and apparently taking Judith at her word, she slammed the door.

  Judith shrugged, then started back down the walkway. She stopped midway and stared in surprise.

  Freddy Whobrey was strolling toward the condo with Rover prancing at his side. In one hand, Freddy carried a newspaper; in the other, he held a metal strongbox.

  Despite her eagerness for information, Judith remembered to keep her distance from Freddy. At least he had both his hands occupied. Rover, however, tried to lick her shoes.

  “Dagmar will certainly be glad to see you,” Judith declared. “Where did you find Rover? And that box?”

  Freddy looked puzzled. “Rover? I didn’t find him. His howling woke me up this morning. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I went in to Dagmar’s condo and found the poor mutt all by himself. I took him to breakfast with me.”

  It was Judith’s turn for bewilderment. “So you reported Dagmar missing?”

  Freddy raised his eyebrows in alarm. “Missing? Is she missing? I figured they’d hauled her off to the hospital.”

  “She spent the night at our place.” Briefly, Judith explained about the row between Nat Linski and the Kreagers. “It’s fine; we’ve told the police that she’s safe. Now we’ll have to tell them that Rover isn’t missing, either.” Judith pointed to the metal box, which she recognized from the bedroom at Hillside Manor and Agnes Shay’s downstairs condo unit. “Where was that thing?” She danced away as Rover renewed his attack on her shoes.

  Freddy winked. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you? How about coming to my condo, where I’ll explain while we do something even more interesting? Want to stroke my silks?”

  “No,” Judith replied staunchly, “I do not. But I’ll go with you to the Kreagers’ condo while you show Dagmar what you found. And who.” She flicked at Rover with the toe of her shoe.

  Freddy sighed with exaggerated regret. “You don’t know what you’re missing. There’s a lot of fun to be had in the back stretch.”

  Judith had already started up the walkway, while Rover nipped at the cuffs of her slacks. “Dagmar has had enough tragedy,” she asserted. “Come along, ease her mind. She’s certain that Rover has been eaten by bears.”

  “No such luck,” Freddy murmured as Judith rang the buzzer. “Hey, I thought you wanted to hear where I found the box. It’s pretty weird, sweetheart. You’d never guess.”

  “Probably not,” Judith replied as Tessa once again came to the door, looking no more cheerful than the last time.

/>   “Get that damned dog out of here!” she railed at Freddy. “Downstairs! Now! I’d rather have termites!”

  Dagmar was a streak, coming to a staggering stop on the threshold. “Poopy-poo-poopsy-do!” she shrieked, bending down as Rover leaped into her outstretched arms. “My love! My dove! My bovey-wovey-movey…”

  “Out!” Tessa screamed. “Get that rotten little creature off my white rug or he’s toast!”

  Author and editor faced off. Both women began shouting at each other, their shrill voices jarring Judith’s ears. Karl Kreager came into the entry hall, attempting to assert his publisher’s authority.

  “Here, here! Stop, both of you!” He grabbed his wife by the arm and gave her a good shake, then turned to Dagmar. “Take Rover downstairs, please. And try to excuse Tessa. She’s very high-strung.”

  Clutching Rover to her breast, Dagmar glared at Tessa. “She can’t spell, either,” Dagmar hissed, then bestowed several kisses on Rover’s furry head before departing with dignity.

  Karl unleashed Tessa, whose boiling temper was now at a mere simmer. “Freddy, you’d better explain yourself,” Karl commanded.

  Freddy repeated his story of Rover’s early-morning howls. Judith was distracted by the bruise on Karl’s cheek and the bandage on his hand. Apparently Dagmar’s account of the quarrel with Nat was no exaggeration. Judith wondered where Kirk Kreager had gone. Perhaps he had retreated to his hotel. She couldn’t much blame him.

  “And the metal box?” Karl demanded.

  Freddy had grown a little woebegone. “Hey, can I sit down? I’ve been walking all over the damned town this morning. I’ve been up since six!”

  Reluctantly, Tessa led the way into the living room—but not before she’d insisted that Freddy and Judith check their shoes. Judith wondered if hers were all of a piece. They were, though there were distinct small tooth marks on the toes.

  “It’s like this,” Freddy began from his place on a satincovered, off-white Louis Quinze chair. “I got dressed after I went in to check on Rover, and then I got this bright idea. I knew Dagmar was all upset about Agnes, but she was also in a tizzy about the metal box. So I took one of her scarves and a handkerchief of Agnes’s and told Rover to fetch. Or something.” Freddy reached into the inside pocket of his houndstooth sport coat, producing both items. “I know horses, but not dogs. Still, I figured Rover could follow a scent. So first thing, before breakfast, we trotted off. You’ll never guess where Rover led me.” Freddy stopped, leaning forward on the antique chair. “Say, do you suppose I could have a little something? Like gin?”

  The request for a bribe worked. Karl went off to fix the drink just as Dagmar reappeared, now wearing a flowing chartreuse caftan. She insisted that Freddy repeat his tale about Rover. By the time Dagmar was exclaiming at Rover’s cleverness, Karl had served Freddy a gin fizz.

  “And where did my precious fuzzy-wuzzy lead you?” Dagmar asked breathlessly.

  “It’s pretty weird,” Freddy replied, gulping at his drink. “I thought the dog was nuts. We went all over the place—and ended up at my old chum’s apartment. The strongbox was in Esme MacPherson’s liquor cabinet.”

  It seemed to Judith that the others had never heard of Esme MacPherson. She listened with growing impatience as Freddy explained. She also tried to figure out why and how Dagmar’s metal box had ended up in the old sot’s apartment. It didn’t make sense, unless Freddy had put it there. But why would he then retrieve it?

  Her attention was recaptured when Dagmar announced she had forgotten to bring the key from Agnes’s unit. “I can’t bear to go in there,” she said plaintively, looking at Karl. “Would you…?”

  But Freddy snorted. “You don’t need a key to the strong-box. Somebody has already broken the lock.” He flipped the lid up, revealing a thick set of files.

  Dagmar paled with what Judith perceived as relief. “Everything’s there! Oh, thank heavens! I was sure the files had been stolen!”

  “They were,” Freddy retorted. “I mean, how else did they get to Esme’s apartment?”

  From her place next to Karl on the sofa, Tessa leaned forward and gave Freddy a hard stare. “So why did this old pal of yours take the box?”

  Freddy was looking innocent. “He swears he didn’t. He told me he’d never seen the thing before.”

  Judith thought that was unlikely. Esme was into his liquor cabinet several times a day. On the other hand, he seemed to be fixated on his bottles. Maybe he’d never noticed the metal box.

  “This is ridiculous,” Tessa declared, sitting up straight again. “Dagmar, you’d better make sure everything is really there. You’re the only one who knows those files backward and forward.”

  Dagmar jumped in her eggshell damask-covered armchair. “I do? Oh, I do! But not the way that Agnes did. She maintained them for me.”

  Karl was nodding. “Tessa’s right. There’s a reason that those files disappeared, whether this Esme MacPherson took them or not. Someone did. I suggest you go through them. At your leisure, of course.”

  Dagmar glared at Karl. “I’ll do it now.” She pulled her chair up to a white drum table with a white marble top. “Give me the box, Freddy.”

  Freddy obeyed. Dagmar began her methodical search of the files. The room grew very still. Judith wondered if she should leave. Occasionally, Tessa’s unfriendly eyes flickered in her direction. Freddy sucked on his gin fizz and gazed longingly at Judith’s lap. Curiosity had its limits. Judith stood up, breaking the awkward silence.

  “I should go home. My cousin will be wondering what’s happened to me. I don’t want her reporting me as missing, too.” She laughed feebly.

  Karl got to his feet to escort Judith to the door. Freddy made a noise of protest, but Dagmar didn’t look up. “By the way,” Judith said to Karl, “we reported Rover missing. Someone should tell the police that he’s okay.”

  Karl nodded. “I’ll see to that. Thank you for taking Dagmar in last night. We should have realized that she’d seek safe harbor with—”

  “Outrageous!” Dagmar’s voice spiked the air. Judith and Karl turned in the entry hall. Together, they hurried back into the living room.

  Seated at the drum table, Dagmar’s face was flushed. About half the file folders were on the floor, the rest still in the metal box. “I got to the L’s,” she announced in a trembling voice, “and what didn’t I find? Nat Linski, that’s what! Or who,” she corrected herself. Feverishly, she began to sort through the files that were farther back in the box. She blinked; her shoulders sagged. “Mia’s here. How odd!”

  Freddy had finished his fizz and was wearing a shocked expression. “You must be wrong, Dagmar. Maybe Agnes misfiled Nat someplace.”

  Dagmar turned sharply. “Agnes never made mistakes! How dare you!”

  Freddy was now chagrined as well as stupefied. “Okay, okay,” he muttered. “But it’s damned odd. How could it happen?”

  Karl didn’t agree. “It’s exactly as I thought.” He pointed to the metal box. “Someone stole those files to purge them of incriminating information. The obvious thief is Nat Linski. Dagmar, what was in his folder that he’d want so badly?”

  Her mouth was working, but no audible words came out. At last she managed a squeak. “Nothing.” Dagmar rubbed agitatedly at her temples. “Please! I have such a headache!”

  Tessa jumped off the sofa and veered across the room to land practically on top of Dagmar’s hunched figure. “Rot! You had something damaging on Nat! Why else would he steal the file?”

  The columnist shook her head, slowly and shakily. “No…I’m sure there wasn’t…No…” She looked not only old, but defeated. The fire seemed to have gone out of her. She leaned away from the encroaching Tessa, her lined face almost touching the marble tabletop.

  Judith felt obligated to interfere. “I think Dagmar should lie down,” she said in a firm voice. “I’ll get her to bed.” Wedging in between the Kreagers, Judith reached for Dagmar’s arm. “Come, I’ll help you to your condo.”
>
  Nobody protested. Except Tessa. “Just a minute! We’ve got one dead woman, missing files, and a lost-and-found metal box! This is dangerous stuff! Why are we fussing over Dagmar’s nap?”

  “Take care of it,” Judith said calmly, getting Dagmar to her feet. “This is your condo; these are your guests. And your author. You’re in charge.” Her sharp glance took in both Kreagers, but purposely avoided Freddy.

  Karl sighed. “She’s right. We should contact that Penreddy fellow. He can talk to MacPherson—and to Nat Linski.”

  Tessa wasn’t yet satisfied. “What about the rest of us? We’re all involved. We could be next on the killer’s list! I want protection! Somebody broke into our condo! We’ve been burglarized…”

  Judith shut the door on Tessa. Dagmar felt like a dead weight as the two women shuffled to the premises next door. Luckily, Renie was just coming out of the cousins’ unit. She ran across the courtyard to help Judith with Dagmar.

  “What’s happening?” Renie demanded. “I was about to call over here, and then I saw you through the window.”

  Judith explained after they had put Dagmar to bed. Again. To Judith’s surprise, Dagmar didn’t interrupt. Rather, she moved restlessly on the futon, apparently finding little comfort except in Rover’s slobbering presence.

  At last Judith put a direct question to Dagmar. “When did you discover that the file box was missing?”

  Dagmar flung a hand over her forehead. “Oh! I’ve no idea! Agnes kept the files, as I’ve said. They were gone yesterday afternoon. That’s all I know.”

  Judith exchanged quizzical glances with Renie. “When did you last see them?”

  Dagmar turned sulky. “I didn’t. Not here. I remember Agnes carrying them into her downstairs unit when we arrived over the weekend. I never went into her part of the condo. I couldn’t bear to, after she…” The querulous voice choked and faded away.

  Judith’s face set. She gazed again at Renie, who was obviously trying not to betray any expression. Judith started to say something, thought better of it, and asked Dagmar if she’d like a sleeping pill. She would, and a couple of the 222 tablets. Judith found the bottle of sleeping capsules and the analgesic packet next to the bed, got a glass of water from the bathroom, and ministered to Dagmar.