“Well maybe he isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.” May shrugged. “Maybe he just didn’t think the police would find it.”
“This is a man who writes murder mysteries for a living.” Nora said. “Do you really believe, if he was plotting a murder in real life, he wouldn’t at least take some pains to hide the evidence?”
May’s mouth opened and then shut. A stubborn look came over her face. “That’s all well and good, but I still say he’s done it. Maybe he just went temporarily insane or something.”
“If he went temporarily insane and killed Mia in a burst of passion, the murder would have looked very different.” Nora said. “We’d have found her with her head clubbed in, or stabbed with a knife, or shot. No. Whoever did this, they acted out of hate but not out of heated emotions. The murderer is a cold-blooded animal.”
“I don’t know what to say.” May sighed. “I wish you weren’t quite so convincing. Now you have me rooting for Alvarez to be released.”
The door to the station opened, and Sean stepped out, his hair in disarray and his head drooping from lack of sleep. As he heard May’s last sentence, his head snapped up, alert. “What’s this, now?” He asked, keeping his voice light. “Don’t tell me Alvarez hired you as his lawyer too, Nora?”
“She’d do a pretty good job if he did.” May said. “You should hear her out, Sean. Maybe she has a point.”
Sean looked at Nora, and shook his head. “Will you ever accept that sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar and a murder is just a murder? There’s no need to make up crazy, convoluted conspiracy theories each time you encounter a dead body.”
“They’re hardly conspiracy theories if they’re right,” May said, indignantly. “You’re being rather rough on Nora.”
“Well, she’s being rather rough on me,” Sean said. “I’ve got a syringe with fingerprints on it, Nora. What more proof do you need?”
“Alvarez didn’t confess, though,” Nora said. “Did he?”
Sean shook his head. “The man’s stubborn. He has some sort of disease, and uses syringes all the time to administer medicine. He claims someone probably stole the syringe out of his wastebasket, and planted it. He’s claiming it’s all a big plot against him, and that he’s completely innocent. He went so far as to accuse my deputies of being paid to frame him.” Sean’s eyes lit up with fire. “My men are honest and good at their job. They wouldn’t plant evidence for a million dollars.”
“But someone else could,” Nora said. “The real murderer.”
Sean looked as though he wanted to stomp his feet. His face was growing red, while his eyes burned. “Nora, back off. We’ve got this under control.”
“Ok, Sean. I just wanted to ask; during the post mortem, did you find any traces of brick under Mia’s fingernails?”
Sean tilted his head sideways. “Brick?”
Nora nodded. “Brick.”
A slow grin spread across Sean’s face. “Still worried about that, hmm? Well, fine. Tell Tina she’s been vindicated, there were, in fact, microscopic traces of brick under Mia’s fingernails. Not that I can charge her with vandalism now that she’s dead and gone.”
“Of course,” Nora said, feeling her heart leap at having been proved right. “That tells us something though, right Sean? About Mia?”
“What’s that?” May leaned in eagerly, noting every word.
Sean drew back. “Never mind what. May, all this was strictly off the record. Okay?”
“Spoilsport.” May sighed.
“And Nora, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He looked at May and tilted his head. “If you don’t mind, May, I’d like to talk to her alone.”
“Sure, sure.” May shrugged. “I can take a hint, but you’ll owe me for this, Sean.”
Sean nodded, and waited for her to get into her car and drive off, before turning to Nora.
“What else could you want to talk about?” Nora frowned.
“Sloane,” Sean said. “Specifically, something Sloane told me early this morning, when I went in to arrest Alvarez.”
“Oh.” Nora’s eyes widened.
“Yes. Oh. She told me she’d been to see you last night, and talked about something that was disturbing her very much.”
“Patrick.” Nora sighed.
“The love letters that are supposedly from Patrick,” Sean said. “She showed me the letters, and I put my man on the hunt to see where the email came from. Guess where it was sent from?”
Nora shrugged. “I’m not so good with technology. You tell me.”
“The Bellewood B and B has a small room that acts as a conference room/business center, which is free of charge to all guests. The room also happens to contain a really clunky, 1999 model PC. The emails were all typed up between two and three a.m. at night on that computer.” Sean raised an eyebrow. “As for who typed them up, didn’t it occur to either of you that Arsalan means “Lion”? Arsalan Alvarez is the rather unusual pseudonym our best-selling author thought up.”
Nora gulped. “You mean, Patrick never hit on Sloane? It was Alvarez?”
“That’s my suspicion,” Sean said. “Though to be honest, it could be either of them.”
“Sloane was so sure it was Patrick,” Nora said, dismayed.
“Alvarez is a total horndog,” Sean said. “He was having an affair with Mia, and hitting on Sloane at the same time! Can you imagine?”
Nora shook her head. She couldn’t imagine any decent person even thinking of doing such a thing. One thing was very clear, Alvarez was a completely immoral man. But was he also a murderer? Nora just couldn’t make up her mind.
Sean saw her look of doubt, and heaved a sigh. “All right. Look, I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else, but I have the same doubts you do.”
“You mean you think its possible Alvarez didn’t do it?”
“I don’t know,” Sean said. “I dislike the man, I can tell you that. But some of what he’s saying isn’t so hard to believe. He used syringes and someone could easily have stolen one. In fact, we found three more syringes in the wastepaper basket near the reception. Plus, he told me he’d been discussing murder at the dinner table the night before.”
Nora nodded. “Sloane’s a big fan of murder mysteries, apparently.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“There’s something more that puzzles me,” he said. “This is very confidential, Nora. I’m just hoping, given our history, that you could think up a solution too.”
“What is it?” Nora asked.
“I told you that we found three more syringes in the wastepaper basket near the reception,” Sean said. “What I didn’t tell you is that two of them are alike. They have Alvarez’s fingerprints on them. The third had been wiped clean of any fingerprints, but had a sliver of cigarette ash on it.”
Nora frowned. “And the poison used to kill Mia? Was it on any of the syringes?”
“It was on all the syringes,” Sean said. “The poison used to kill her is basically a stronger dose of a medicine that Alvarez regularly takes. So there’s no clue to be had there.”
“I don’t suppose there is,” Nora said. “This cigarette ash—have it tested. See if it’s a Marlboro or a strawberry cigarette. That’ll help you find out the truth.”
“Oh there’s no need to test it,” Sean said. “That same wastebasket also had a half-smoked strawberry cigarette butt.”
*****
Chapter 7
Patrick’s Tale
The various incidents and conversations whirled together in her head like fruits in a blender, with twice as much white noise. Nora had a headache trying to disentangle the facts.
“Mia’s dead, let’s take that as the prime fact,” Tina said, as the two of them washed dishes side by side, long after the diner had closed. “Her death is at the center of this whole case.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Nora nodded. “We also know that she’s the one who threw a brick through our window, by the wa
y, though that isn’t really related to the murder.”
“Not unless I’m a suspect.” Tina smiled, and flicked drops of water at Nora. “Am I?”
“I’m ruling you out, shockingly.” Nora laughed. “You’re a perfect candidate, though. Don’t think I hadn’t thought of it. Why, just the day before her murder, you had a huge fight with Mia and bam. Next day, she’s dead.”
The smile was wiped off Tina’s face, replaced with worry. “You don’t think Sean will come after me, do you? I’ve got my hands full between Sam, my newborn and the diner at the moment.”
“I think you’ll be fine,” Nora said. “Sean’s got enough leads to go on for the moment. Those syringes really confuse me, though.”
“Step by step,” Tina said. “So, Mia is dead. We know that much. Who are our suspects?”
“There were only four people in the house when she died,” Nora said. “There’s Sloane, Burton, Patrick and Alvarez. In theory, any of them had the opportunity to come down to the kitchen and inject the croissant with poison.”
“Cool, four suspects, equal opportunity.” Tina nodded. “But the motive?”
“I can’t pin down any motive Burton or Sloane might have had to kill Mia.” Nora confessed. “Mia paid Burton well, and gave him a room to stay in. Sloane was pretty happy to be visiting her father. Why would she want to kill a woman she’s only known for three months?”
“Right.” Tina nodded. “I don’t see a motive either. Unless... well... May Almand claimed that Mia flirted with Burton all the time. Maybe he got sick of it and killed her.”
“Sounds far-fetched. Mind you, Alvarez claimed they were all at the dinner table discussing poisoning someone by injecting their food just the night before the murder,” Nora said. “So… it’s not like I’m ruling Sloane and Burton out completely.”
“Of course.” Tina nodded. “They’re still on our list.”
“Right. That said, I have to confess. I like them both too much.” Nora smiled. “They just don’t strike me as murderers.”
“Ah, but Ted Bundy was likeable, and he was a serial killer,” Tina said. “Liking somebody doesn’t have much to do with their capacity for murder.”
“Agreed,” Nora said. “Anyway, they fall short when it comes to motive. No, the person who really had a motive to kill Mia was Patrick. After all, they were fighting all the time, and she was having an affair.”
“Well, why not just divorce her?” Tina asked. “Why leap to murder?”
“They weren’t just husband and wife, they were also business partners,” Nora said. “Their finances were entangled together. Maybe Patrick felt killing her would give him more financial freedom than divorcing her.”
Tina considered this. “All right, I can believe it. A murder for money. That’s a believable motive.”
“Then, finally, we have Alvarez.” Nora took a deep breath. “I’ll be honest, I don’t understand his motive entirely, either. Everyone else thinks that if he was having an affair with Mia, he had a motive to kill her. I don’t think so.”
“What are you talking about! Maybe she was threatening to reveal the affair, he got scared and he killed her,” Tina said. “Of course he had a motive!”
He didn’t have a wife to hide secrets from. Having the affair come out wouldn’t affect him badly. That’s not really a motive. If anything, Mia had a motive to kill him,” Nora said.
“You have a point there,” Tina sighed.
“Plus, I just can’t believe he’d be stupid enough to leave a syringe in a potted plant on the windowsill.” Nora frowned. “That is an incredibly stupid…” Her voice trailed off. Her eyes glazed over as her mind began putting the jigsaw pieces together.
“It’s so funny, though,” Tina said. “I can’t imagine that the last thing Mia did before dying was throw a brick through our window. What is that like? What’s it like to wake up one morning and think—I’ll just throw a brick through someone’s window today. Or maybe she planned it?”
“I have to go,” Nora said, abruptly. “Tina, you’re a downright genius.”
“What!” Tina exclaimed. “What do you mean?”
“Do you mind terribly? I’ll do the dishes tomorrow, I promise,” Nora said, hastily undoing her apron and dumping it on the kitchen counter. “Close the diner up, would you?”
“Nora!” Tina sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
But Nora was already heading out the door at a trot, her mind far away.
*****
She reached Bellewood ten minutes later, having sped there at a speed that Sean would surely have ticketed her for if he’d caught her. She couldn’t help it, though. Her mind was racing, as was her heart. If she was right, maybe the true murderer would be in custody by tomorrow!
A surprised, sleepy-looking Patrick opened the door when she rang the bell.
“What is it?” he asked, blinking in confusion. “What happened?”
“I need to talk to you,” Nora said. “I mean... well... I need to talk to Burton, too. But, first, I can talk to you.”
Patrick had a pair of flannel pajamas that hung loose over his skinny body. His eyes were red, and he sniffled slightly as he led her inside the B and B. He took her to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and drew out two bottles of beer. When Nora shook her head, he handed her a bottle of apple juice instead.
“I insist you drink something,” he said. “I won’t talk with a dry throat.”
“That’s fine, then,” she said, accepting the bottle. She twisted the cap off, and took an appreciative sip of the tangy, yet sweet juice. “Patrick, I wanted to ask you about the night before Mia was murdered.”
“Oh. That.” Patrick took a gulp from his bottle of beer, and looked down at his shoes. “What did you want to know?”
“What happened?”
“We had dinner, like every night.” Patrick shrugged. “Let’s see, Mia had made fried chicken, roast potatoes and apple pie. Tasty food, as always. Alvarez and Burton don’t eat sweets, of course so only Sloane and I did.”
“Did you?” Nora asked. “Mia didn’t?”
“No, she said she was on a diet.” Patrick frowned. “Which is strange, considering she was so fit but women never seem satisfied with their bodies. Mia was a perfectionist.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Always wanting more, that was my Mia. I should have known she was cheating on me all along. Can you believe it? They found her clothes in Alvarez’s room! That evil snake took her from me! I want to…” He made a strangling motion with his hands, looking all too satisfied at the imaginary Alvarez who presumably died choking.
“All right,” Nora said, hastily. “I’m really sorry. That must be a terrible thing to find out.”
“Somewhere in my heart, I knew she’d checked out of the relationship a long time ago.” Patrick sighed. “It was my fault as much as hers. I wasn’t the man she wanted me to be. She wanted someone dynamic, and dominating. I was too soft for her.” A tear leaked out of his eye. “I am just such a loser.”
“Her breaking your marriage vows isn’t your fault,” Nora said, more sharply than she’d meant to. “You may have had your faults, Patrick, but she shouldn’t have resorted to adultery.”
Patrick shrugged, his lips sloping downward. “I don’t know. It’s all just such a shock to me. I don’t know what to feel. Anger at her betrayal or grief that she’s gone or…” He bit off his words. “Never mind. What did you want to know?”
“Is there any leftover pie in the fridge?” Nora asked.
Patrick got up to check. “I guess so,” he said, taking out a Tupperware container with the pie in it. “Sloane and I demolished about half the pie, but there’s plenty left. Shall I get out some ice cream too?”
“Oh, no.” Nora shook her head. “I’ll take that with me, though, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” Patrick looked mystified. “What are you up to, Nora?”
“You’ll find out,” Nora said. “I need to talk to Burton first.”
“He’s asleep upstairs,” Patrick said. “I think.”
“Let’s find out.” Nora walked up, with Patrick behind her, beer bottle still in his hand.
*****
Chapter 8
Burton’s Confession
Nora rapped on the door to Burton’s apartment, and Burton answered, looking sleepy and disgruntled. Nora had taken a step back, and was observing his suite with some interest. She could only see a sliver through the open door. There was a photo of a much younger Burton with baby Sloane, icing on both their noses hung on a cream-colored wall, and an exotic, dragon-shaped dagger underneath it.
Burton followed her gaze and shrugged. “What? A man can’t own a cool dagger?”
“Just… an unusual contrast, that’s all,” Nora said.
“Come to lecture me on interior design at…” Burton looked at his watch, “eleven p.m.?”
“Actually, I came to ask you a question,” Nora said.
“Dad?” Sloane came out of the adjoining room, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She had on tattered grey sweatpants and a t-shirt with I don’t just see, I C++ written on it. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t know you were a programmer,” Nora said, looking at her t-shirt with interest.
“Oh, I wasn’t. This was my boyfriend’s. We broke up but I hung on to this.” She gave a laugh. “I suppose I should buy one that says, I dated a nerd for three years and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.”
“Sloane, go back to sleep. Nora’s just here to talk to me.”
“What about?” Sloane’s eyes grew a little wider, and fixed on Patrick.
“Plants,” Nora said. “As in, does he also water and take care of the gardening here at the B and B?”
“Burton?” Patrick laughed. “Not a chance. He’s got a grey thumb—the plants all go grey if he comes within fifteen feet of them.”
Burton grinned. “Yep. Only plants I’m comfortable with are plywood boards.”
“Oh. Cool. Good to know,” Nora said. “So how come you had dirt on your hands the day Mia was found dead?”
The Milburn Big Box Set Page 98