Murder as a Second Language: A Claire Malloy Mystery (Claire Malloy Mysteries)

by Hess, Joan

  He was watching the bag with a greedy expression. I had no clue what to do if he crowded into the room and snatched it out of my hand. I relaxed a tad when he said, “If I tell you, it stays in this room. You okay with that?”

  “Absolutely. I give you my solemn promise I won’t repeat it.” I didn’t add that keeping promises was not among my more admirable traits. “It was all her fault, wasn’t it?”

  Toby realized his hand had crept up to his head and hastily put it at his side. “Yeah, I got here maybe earlier than I said, and there she was, creeping around in the dark like a spy. She about fell over her own feet when I turned on the lights. All I was gonna do was tell her to beat it when she started whimpering and then took off scurrying like a little bunny rabbit. I thought it was so damn funny, so I decided to play her game. I finally caught her trying to hide in here. I thought I deserved a reward. I picked her up and set her on the copy machine. She was wailing, so I had to shake her until she got quiet. Then, just as I was unzipping my pants, in barges this ugly fat woman, and she’s screaming at me in some crazy language. She came right at me with her claws, so I had to defend myself. It was a friggin’ nightmare. The China doll’s back to wailing and this monster is going for my eyes. Somehow the monster trips and crashes into the copy machine.” He stopped, as if I should be satisfied with his description of the events.

  “Why didn’t you call nine-one-one? You couldn’t know if she was dead.”

  Toby looked at me as if I’d pulled a worm out of my mouth. “And get busted for attempted rape? I may not be at the top of my class, but I’m not that stupid. I’m the starting quarterback this year.”

  “That may not happen.” A soon as I’d said it, I knew I’d made a mistake. There was no way to rewind the tape and erase my comment. And now I was quite sure his head was touching the top of the door frame, and likely to splinter it.

  He chewed on his lip until it began to bleed. I assessed my chances of darting between his legs. My backup team had yet to show their faces. I heard voices in the distance, apt to be patrons going into the sports bar. He finally looked at me. “I’m sorry about this, Ms. Malloy, but I’m going to ask you to give me that bag and tell me where Miao is. I can’t let her go around telling lies, even if nobody can make out what she’s saying.”

  “You’re the only person who seems to have trouble understanding me. Take the bag. You can vacuum this room all night, but you’ll still miss a stray hair. The crime scene investigators have very fancy equipment designed to find every last strand of DNA.”

  “If they know to look. The thing is, Ms. Malloy, you’re not going to tell anyone about what I said tonight. If you do and I’m arrested, I’ll get out on bail because my father’s all straightlaced and a big deal at the college. I sure had a good time with Inez the other day, and I know she and your daughter go to the lake all the time. They just seem to go everywhere, don’t they?”

  A sour taste flooded my mouth. “Are you threatening to harm them if I don’t cooperate? Is that what you’re saying, Toby? Just go ahead and spit it out.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean. If you turn me in, your pretty daughter’s gonna need braces and a new nose. Maybe skin grafts all over her face.”

  He had the audacity to sneer at me, which made my words all the sweeter. “Guess what, Toby, you’re going to be a big star sooner than you think. See that little red light way up there in the corner? It’s a video camera, and it’s captured every vile thing you’ve said. You’d better go home and find your toothbrush, because you’re going to be in a cell before midnight.” I did not mention the shiny paper and bow on his head.

  “What’s gonna stop me from climbing up there and ripping it off the wall?”

  This was the moment the Mounties were supposed to yank him out of the doorway and kick him senseless. I tried to peer around him. “I lied when I told you Austin and Rick abandoned me. They’re here, and they’ve heard everything you said.”

  “Those two preppie boys? I’ll stuff ’em in the Dumpster on my way out. Cleaning up is my job, and I don’t want to get hassled for leaving garbage on the floor.” He held up a fist, which I estimated to be the size of a medium cantaloupe. I had to admit Rick and Austin had more charm than brawn. This was a minor wrinkle we’d failed to anticipate. Peter was in Fort Smith, due to my deductive prowess. Jorgeson was in his comfy living room with his wife, munching popcorn or whatever they did. If Yelena had been there, she could have mesmerized him (or put him into a stupor) with a melodramatic presentation of a Russian opera.

  It was my turn to laugh, scoff, or plead with him. I was juggling the options when I heard Austin say, “You heard what Ms. Malloy said, boy. You run along and get that toothbrush ready to go.”

  He spun around. “You gonna make me, little man?”

  “No,” Austin said, “but my gun might persuade you to do as you’re told. Otherwise, I’ll shoot you in one of those fine, manly kneecaps. You won’t be able to play quarterback on the prison team.”

  Toby glared at me over his shoulder before he hurried down the pathway. Seconds later, his car roared and squealed out of the parking lot. I sank down on the stool, which was a mistake. As Austin helped me to my feet, I said, “Is that a real gun?”

  “I have no idea. I found it in the prop room at the TV station, so I assume it’s fake. Should we find out?”

  “No. Where’s Rick?”

  “On the phone to the fuzz. He slipped into Keiko’s office as soon as Toby started blabbing. He went outside and got a description of Toby’s car and the license number. You in the mood for a glass of wine now?”

  I was.

  * * *

  Peter arrived home long after midnight and departed for his office at a ludicrous hour without bothering to wake me. By the time he dragged in late in the evening, his face was bristly and his eyes were glazed. After he took a shower, shaved, and put on jeans and a sweatshirt, we decided to share a chaise longue, a bottle of wine, and a bag of oatmeal cookies. They weren’t nearly as tasty as profiteroles au chocolat.

  I waited for a few minutes before I said, “You are going to tell me what’s happened, aren’t you? I deserve something for resisting the urge to call you or Jorgeson all day.” Approximately a zillion urges. I’d come perilously close to polishing the silver.

  “I wouldn’t have had time to take a call from an astronaut,” Peter said with a snort. “Waterford felt the need to fill us in on every detail of his seven-year investigation of Leslie Barnes. It was his first assignment out of CIS boot camp, and he was determined to resolve it with a flurry of warrants, arrests, and indictments. A nice young man, if a trifle obsessive.”

  “I envisioned him as a fat old flea-bitten bear with a cigar stub in his mouth. I presume he’s a happy camper now.”

  “Couldn’t stop talking about his successful raid on Leslie and company. He acted as though he’d brought down an international conspiracy to destroy the CIS, the U.S., the UN, mom, and apple pie. He even called in the heavy artillery—the IRS. We had warrants for her office at the FLC, as well as her computers, home, and car. You won’t believe what we found in her garage.”

  “A make-shift greenhouse filled with marijuana plants?” I told him about my brief surveillance across the street from her house. “Leslie most likely had no idea about Charles’s cottage industry. Too risky, since she already had a lucrative scheme. I was going to tell you about it when you weren’t so busy.”

  The poor dear sighed. “I’m sure you were. She kept meticulous files going back ten years. Waterford has a list of well over a hundred names of her so-called clients. Most of the women who married under false pretenses will probably get away with a fine and penalties from the IRS. Their pseudo-husbands will face deportation. I’d say Waterford was pleased with himself after all those years on this case.”

  “He’d still be on it if we hadn’t tipped him off.”

  “Maybe,” he said without conviction. “The wheels of the bureaucracy may grind ex
ceedingly slow, but they do grind. He had a helluva time tracking down Leslie because she changed her name and moved so often. Three years as Mrs. Somebody, followed by a quiet divorce and on to becoming the new Mrs. Somebody Else, four times in twelve years. She has more bank accounts than J. P. Morgan Chase, as well as an offshore account. Her wealthier clients paid her more than a hundred grand. The underachievers paid about half that.”

  I had a minor epiphany. “That explains why Gregory was so alarmed when he realized Ludmilla had recognized him. He may not have any of the pharmaceutical company’s stolen assets, but he’s been raking in money under the table. If the Interpol investigators came sniffing, he’d be in deep trouble. He just didn’t have the nerve to silence her.”

  Another sigh ensued. “He realized what Leslie was doing when he saw the telephone bills, and demanded a cut. The two of them are in custody and facing prison. The program director—the Japanese woman—has decided to cooperate with the investigation in exchange for leniency. Her cut of the proceeds was enough to persuade her to overlook all the suspicious activity, but not enough to buy much loyalty. She said to tell you that she was very sorry about being rude to you, but she was afraid you might be snooping.”

  “She said that?”

  “Not in those exact words.”

  I opted to overlook his editorial interpretation. “Is Hamdan as eager to cooperate?”

  “Not at all. He’s in custody, too, courtesy of the CIS. We may not be able to charge him with the vandalism to your car, but he has other worries. He was babbling about vandalism to his car, but Waterford wasn’t interested. Any comments?”

  “My foot slipped,” I said with impressive dignity, then opted to change the subject. “I hope the literacy council can survive after all this. The members of the board do care, despite all the squabbling. With Gregory gone, maybe Rick can get the finances straightened out well enough to satisfy future donors.”

  “You and he seemed awfully cozy the last few days.” He’d heard the entire story from Jorgeson, who’d arrived with the Mounties and kept Rick, Austin, and me at the police department for several hours while he took our statements. At some point during my fourth or fifth mind-numbing reiteration, Jorgeson had been informed that Toby had been arrested at the high school football stadium. We’d toasted with tepid coffee.

  I curled my arm around Peter’s neck to tickle his earlobe. “Rick is a nice guy, but he lacks the charming ways of a slightly older man with a regal profile and some really good tricks in bed. Now that Gregory’s facing prison, he may work through his bitterness and find a wife. That means we’ll have to buy a wedding present and go to the wedding. I know you don’t like these tuxedo events. It’s odd, since the Rosens are high society on the East Coast. I’ll bet you had a tuxedo that disguised your diaper bulge.”

  “It was very uncomfortable, but I had to live up to the family name.” He refilled our glasses. “Okay, how did you know Toby was the culprit?”

  “It was all about the lights inside the Literacy Council. If Gregory had killed Ludmila, the last thing he’d do is forget to turn off the lights. That would have been unusual and caused unwanted attention to his departure. So I assumed he turned off the lights shortly after eight o’clock. However, the lights were on at eight-thirty, when Bartek arrived to pick up Ludmila. I have backup from disinterested parties who happened to drive by.”

  “Caron?”

  I took a sip of wine and continued. “So who turned on the lights between eight-ten and eight-thirty? It couldn’t have been Ludmila, because she would have unlocked the door for Bartek. The reason she didn’t was that she was already unconscious in the copy room. Miao had fled to Miss Parchester’s house. Bartek doesn’t have a key. The board members who do have keys lacked any reason to return after the meeting. I tried to assign a motive to Leslie but couldn’t come up with one. That left Toby. He had a key, but no apparent motive. It wasn’t challenging to link Miao’s disappearance to the crime, especially since her roommate behaved so suspiciously. Toby simply lied about the time he arrived. I don’t know how much Drake knew, or suspected. He just couldn’t tolerate the idea of not reliving his heroics on the field through his son.”

  Peter harrumphed. “We didn’t buy Toby’s alibi, but we had to make an effort to confirm it. His parents socialize with the mayor and his wife. As the mayor pointed out to me in unsubtle terms, Toby was to be given the benefit of the doubt unless we uncovered evidence to the contrary. That, and Toby started dating the mayor’s daughter.”

  “I guess that covers everything,” I murmured as I gazed at the stars. I did, however, hold my breath while I waited to see if my trophy husband brought up a certain delicate issue involving promises.

  “‘The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep,’” he said quietly. I was not prepared for poetry, but I knew where this was going. “‘And miles to go before I sleep.’”

  I flipped on top of him and buried my hands in his curly hair. “Damn straight, Sherlock. Don’t count on getting any sleep soon.”

  ALSO BY JOAN HESS

  THE CLAIRE MALLOY MYSTERIES

  Strangled Prose

  The Murder at the Murder at the Mimosa Inn

  Dear Miss Demeanor

  Roll Over and Play Dead

  A Diet to Die For

  A Really Cute Corpse

  Death by the Light of the Moon

  Poisoned Pins

  Closely Akin to Murder

  Busy Bodies

  Tickled to Death

  A Holly, Jolly Murder

  A Conventional Corpse

  Out on a Limb

  The Goodbye Body

  Damsels in Distress

  Mummy Dearest

  Deader Homes and Gardens

  THE ARLY HANKS MYSTERIES

  Malice in Maggody

  Mischief in Maggody

  Much Ado in Maggody

  Madness in Maggody

  Mortal Remains in Maggody

  Maggody in Manhattan

  O Little Town of Maggody

  Martians in Maggody

  Miracles in Maggody

  The Maggody Militia

  Misery Loves Maggody

  Murder@maggody.com

  Maggody and the Moonbeams

  Muletrain to Maggody

  Malpractice in Maggody

  Merry Wives of Maggody

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JOAN HESS is the author of both the Claire Malloy and the Arly Hanks/Maggody mystery series. She is a winner of the American Mystery Award, a member of Sisters in Crime, and a former president of the American Crime Writers League. A longtime resident of Fayetteville, Arkansas, she now lives in Austin, Texas.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  MURDER AS A SECOND LANGUAGE. Copyright © 2013 by Joan Hess. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.minotaurbooks.com

  Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Hess, Joan.

  Murder as a Second Language: A Claire Malloy Mystery / Joan Hess.—First Edition.

  p. cm

  ISBN 978-1-250-01196-1 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-250-03001-6 (e-book)

  1. Malloy, Claire (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Booksellers and bookselling—Fiction. 3. Women detectives—Fiction. 4. Life change events—Fiction. 5. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 6. Arkansas—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3558.E79785M86 2013

  813'.54—dc23

  2013024719

  e-ISBN 9781250030016

  First Edition: December 2013

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