Death on a Platter (23 page)

“You’re leaving the clinic?” Josie asked. “What about Hans, your Great Dane with the bad break?”

“His people brought him in while you were inside the building. Hans is sedated and prepped for surgery. My partner should be here any moment. She answered my message while you were in the building with the police. Christine said she’d handle Hans.”

“Ted, you can’t abandon your patient.”

“I can’t abandon you,” Ted said. “I couldn’t operate. I’m too worried about you. Chris will do a better job. She’ll fix up Hans, I’ll check on you, and then I’ll come back and spend the night with Hans. Christine will take good care of him until I get back here.”

“Ted, I can’t ask you to do that,” Josie began.

“You didn’t ask it,” Ted said. “I volunteered. Chris owes me. I’ve covered for her plenty of times when her son was sick or she had some activity at his school. I hear a car in the parking lot. I’m pretty sure it’s her. Yep, that’s Chris coming down the hall. Josie, I have to tell her about Hans and then I’ll be right there.”

He hung up before Josie could protest. She called her mother. Jane answered on the first ring. “Josie, did you get the information? Did—”

“Mom, I’m at Gemma’s. There’s been a problem. She was murdered and I saw her body. The police are here. I may be a while.”

Jane gave a squawk, then peppered her daughter with a dozen questions: “Murdered! How? Why? Where are you? Are you safe?”

“Mom,” Josie began.

A man’s voice shouted, “Drop that phone. Drop it right now!”

The young cop startled Josie. The phone spurted out of her hand like a slippery bar of soap and slid across the passenger seat. She could hear her mother shouting, “Josie? What’s going on? Answer me!”

She grabbed the phone again and said, “I think the police want me to hang up.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, Josie Marcus. I’m your mother.”

She couldn’t see her mother, who was still shooting questions at her. But she knew Jane’s face would be a furious pink. She could definitely see the young cop at her window. Officer Jarden was bristling with anger and his gun was still unholstered.

“Sorry, Mom, you’re outranked,” Josie said and hit the END button.

If only I could really end this by pressing a button, she thought, as the cop ordered her to get out of the car.

“You’ve developed an intense interest in River Bluff, Ms. Marcus,” Detective Brian Mullanphy said. “You drove here all the way from—Maplewood, is that right?”

“Yes,” said Josie in small voice.

“What time did you arrive at the victim’s shop?” he asked.

“About eight o’clock,” Josie said.

“Did you know the store had been closed for two hours?”

“Yes,” Josie said.

She remembered Ted’s advice to treat this man like a three-hundred-pound gorilla. The detective’s high forehead and shrewd eyes reminded her that Ted was right. But Mullanphy’s potato nose threw her. How could she take the knob-nosed detective seriously?

The more time she spent talking to the detective, the more she agreed with Ted’s advice. Mullanphy was smart. She’d have to be careful.

“So what made you drive all the way across St. Louis County tonight?” Mullanphy asked. “Aren’t you a single mother with a preteen daughter?”

“Yes,” Josie said. She was impressed. Had Mullanphy reread her statement from Tillie’s before he came here, or did he remember those details?

“And yet you abandoned her to make this long, gas-guzzling trip.”

“My mother is watching her,” Josie said, relieved that she’d been able to tell the truth three questions in a row.

“Why drive here tonight, Ms. Marcus? What was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning? Was Ms. Rae holding a special late-night sale?”

“No!” Josie yipped like a stepped-on puppy. He was closing in.

“I didn’t think so.” Mullanphy’s voice was smooth as honey and just as sticky. “Judging by the dust on this merchandise, I don’t think you have to worry about someone dashing in and snapping up a fantastic bargain before tomorrow. Unless that’s a Ming vase on that table.”

He pointed to an ugly blue pottery jar. “That poor lady surprised a burglar, Ms. Marcus, and got her head bashed in. Doubt if he got enough for a bottle of cheap wine. You’re just lucky he cleared out by the time you arrived. So why did you come here?”

“I—”

She was saved by the arrival of the medical examiner and two techs from the crime scene unit. Mullanphy talked to them while Josie tried to gather her scattered thoughts.

The techs set up harsh white lights to illuminate the murder scene. Josie caught grisly glimpses of Gemma’s battered head. She saw thick gobs of dark blood on the floor. Black splashes on the settee looked like clots of tar.

She tried to drag her eyes away from the murder scene and concentrate. The relentless Mullanphy would return shortly to lob hard questions at her. She had steeled herself for the next onslaught when another squad car arrived. Josie recognized Officer Zellman. Mullanphy gave him orders to check the Dumpster behind the shop.

That was the last interruption. Now she was facing that chiseled profile with the clown’s nose. “Why were you here tonight, Ms. Marcus?” Mullanphy asked.

Tell the truth, Josie reminded herself. “I tried to call Gemma and talk to her, but she didn’t answer her phone. I decided to see her in person. I knew it was a long shot that I’d catch her working late at the store, but I thought she might be upstairs in her apartment and she’d come down and talk to me.”

“Why? Were you good friends?”

“No,” Josie said.

“How long did you know the victim?”

“The first time I saw Gemma Lynn was at Tillie’s,” Josie said.

“And that was?”

“The day—” She paused, then said, “The day before Clay died. But I didn’t talk with her until a couple of days later. I brought my friend Alyce here. She bought a china coffeepot—a Rose Point pattern. I saw an old-fashioned sampler I liked and asked Gemma the price. I didn’t buy it. It was too expensive.”

A tech interrupted. “Detective, I think we have the murder weapon.” He held up a winged statue that looked like it had black paint on its base.

“More evidence she surprised a burglar,” Mullanphy said to the tech. “The smart ones don’t carry guns. They don’t want to get sent up for armed robbery. Must have been some young punk who panicked. This one reached for the first weapon he could find and bashed her with it.”

Josie stared at the statue. The tech carried it using both gloved hands, as if it were heavy. It was definitely ugly. Made of some dull metal, the statue had wide wings attached to a woman’s body.

Was it a clumsy copy of the Winged Victory? Josie wondered. Then she caught the statue’s syrupy smile. That was an angel. A guardian angel, caught off guard. Gemma was touched by an angel, Josie thought giddily, and fought a crazy urge to laugh.

Mullanphy caught her wrestling her face back into a solemn expression. “What’s so funny, Ms. Marcus?”

“Nothing,” Josie said, and gulped.

She was pretty sure Mullanphy didn’t consider her a suspect. When she’d entered the shop, he’d shone his flashlight on her pant legs and shoes, looking for blood. “Slip off your loafers,” he’d said, then examined the soles in the strong light.

I need new heels, Josie had thought, looking at her worn right sole.

Mullanphy had checked her hands and prodded her fingernails. She had no blood on her hands—or anywhere else. Only after he’d been satisfied that there was no blood spatter or transfer on her clothes, shoes, or hands did he let her put her shoes back on and start questioning her. Despite the reassuring lack of damning physical evidence, he still seemed skeptical.

Josie wished she’d worn a warm jacket. Even on a warm fall night, the shop had a cold spot, like a haunted house. Had it felt that cold when she’d been there with Alyce? Or when Ted had admired the sampler she’d found? She couldn’t remember.

“Ms. Marcus, if I could have your attention,” Detective Mullanphy said. “What were you doing alone in River Bluff tonight? Did you have a knickknack emergency?”

“I wanted to check on a sampler,” Josie said. “I really liked it and hoped Gemma would lower the price.”

“Is this sampler in the shop window?” he asked.

“No,” Josie said. “It’s in that bin of pictures.” She pointed toward it. “Most are bad prints of old masters, but this sampler was a fine piece of needlework. It says FRIENDSHIP, LOVE & TRUTH and it’s surrounded by roses.”

“I’ll see if it’s there,” he said.

Mullanphy put on latex gloves and carefully moved each framed picture in the bin. When he came to the oil of the overly orange autumn scene, he winced. That painting must be bad if it makes a homicide cop cringe, she thought.

He went through the bin a second time, then held up the sampler. “Is this it?” he asked.

Josie nodded.

“Maybe you should concentrate on that message,” he said. “Especially the part about ‘truth.’ Now, tell me the truth, Ms. Marcus: Why did you rush over here tonight? You can tell me the real reason, then write your statement and go home. Or you can stay in the River Bluff lockup while I find out the truth. What’s it going to be?”

I might as well tell him, Josie thought. Once she made up her mind to talk, the words tumbled out.

“I don’t think Tillie did it. Killed Clay Oreck. She’s my mother’s friend. Mom’s known her since she was a little girl and she says Tillie wouldn’t kill anyone. Mom wanted me to find Clay’s real killer.”

Detective Mullanphy gave a snort.

“I know it sounds stupid. I know there’s no way I can outsmart the police,” Josie said. “But you’ve never met my mother. I went through the motions to make Mom happy. She’s my on-call babysitter, and she’s free. Not many single mothers have that luxury.

“I looked up castor beans on the Internet and saw they were used in maracas. Gemma told me that she’d sold two pair right before Clay’s murder. I thought that was an important clue. All I had to do was ask Gemma who bought the maracas and I’d know the name of Clay’s killer.”

“And then what?” Mullanphy glared at her.

“Then I’d tell you and you could arrest the right person.”

“I already know who bought them,” the detective said.

“You do?” Josie looked stunned.

“I’ve heard of the Internet, too, Ms. Marcus, and I read that same article. I asked Ms. Rae who bought those maracas. She showed me the receipt. Molly and Alan Portman purchased two pairs of maracas for a Mexican dinner party they’re giving. I went to this shop and Ms. Rae gave me the last pair from here. Alan and Molly are public-spirited citizens. They let me break open their maracas. They all contained the same thing—small sea shells. No castor beans. So much for your theory.”

Josie felt smaller than the dusty china miniatures on the wall.

“Oh,” she said.

“You did notice the castor beans growing in the vacant lot right next to Tillie’s restaurant?” he asked.

“Yes,” Josie said.

“So did we.”

Josie finished writing out her statement, signed it, and handed it to Detective Brian Mullanphy. He pulled out a pair of reading glasses and frowned at her writing like a disapproving teacher.

“This is the truth?” he asked.

“Yes,” Josie said. She sneaked a glance at her watch. Eleven thirty. She stifled a yawn.

“Am I boring you, Ms. Marcus?”

“No, it’s been a long night and I’m tired,” she said.

“I’m tired, too, Ms. Marcus, and I’ll be here long after you’re asleep. And you know what makes my job harder? People who lie.”

“I wrote the truth,” Josie said and looked him in the eye. Would he believe her? Or did accomplished liars look people in the eye?

“I’m going to believe you,” Mullanphy said. “But you’re on probation. If I find one fact wrong, you’re going to be a permanent guest of River Bluff. Got that?”

“Yes,” Josie said. She sounded like a mouse. “Yes,” she repeated, this time louder.

“Get out of here. Your boyfriend is waiting outside for you.”

Josie grabbed her purse and ran to the door. Ted was pacing up and down on the sidewalk like a sentry. He’d walk to the driveway, stop, turn around, and walk past Gemma’s shop to the driveway on the other side, then repeat the process. She watched him make one circuit, then ran outside. Josie threw her arms around Ted. His broad chest felt warm, solid, and safe. He smelled of antiseptic and dog hair.

“Ted, you’re here.” She kissed him.

“I said I would be.” Ted sounded slightly offended. “It’s heading on toward midnight. I talked with your mother.”

“Oh, thank you,” Josie said. “I’m too woozy to deal with Jane.”

“Your mom took the news well,” Ted said.

“She would, since it came from you,” Josie said. “Besides, she’s the one who insisted I drive here tonight.”

“I reminded her of that,” Ted said.

“Thank you,” Josie said. “But I should get some guts. I’m a grown woman.”

“I don’t care how old you get—there’s no way to handle your own mother,” Ted said. “I act like a frightened bunny rabbit around my mother. I’ll expect you to take over my mom-wrangling duties when the time comes.”

When the time comes.
Josie thought she’d never heard four sweeter words. Ted was telling her they had a future—maybe a permanent future.

“Let’s leave your car parked here overnight and I’ll drive you home,” he said.

“I can’t, Ted. I have to take Amelia to school in the morning. And you’re spending the night with Hans. How’s he doing?”

“Not sure,” Ted said. “Chris said she’d call me when she got out of surgery. The old Dane must still be alive, or she’d let me know. Let’s go to Uncle Bill’s Pancake House for a late dinner or early breakfast or whatever it is.”