Murder on the Eightfold Path (22 page)

She was grinning ruefully as her door opened and Suze peeked in. She whispered, “Are you okay? We could hear you all the way in the front lobby.”

“If she ever gets knocked off, I’m going to be the prime suspect.”

“Take a number.”

They both laughed uneasily.

“Is there anything I can do?” Suze asked.

“Keep her out of my way.”

Suze nodded although they both knew that was a polite fiction. Nobody was going to prevent Lily from going where she liked and saying whatever she chose to.

When A.J. cooled down she called Jake partly because she had remembered that she had never got around to mentioning Dicky’s possible gambling debts, and she was quite sure her mother had never shared that information, and partly because—painful though it was to admit—she missed him and wanted to hear his voice.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded preoccupied but not unhappy to hear from her.

“Every time we talk I forget to mention this, but Mother told me a while back that there’s a possibility that Dicky had gambling debts. He used to bet regularly on horses, and she said he spent a lot of time in Atlantic City.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. She didn’t know for certain that he ever had any problems meeting payments or anything like that, but . . .”

Jake waited for her to finish, and when she didn’t he said, “Okay. Unfortunately it’s not a whole lot to go on. Any idea where in Atlantic City he used to place his bets?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t know. She didn’t go on those trips. She tries to avoid casinos and that kind of environment.”

Aware of Elysia’s history, Jake said, “Right. Well, it’s another rock to turn over. Maybe something slimy is waiting there.”

“And Mother remembered something else.”

He didn’t quite sigh, but he sounded wary as he said, “Which would be what?”

“A few months ago, when Mother and Dicky started up again, she said he was getting abusive phone calls from an ex-lover. A woman named Dora Beauford.”

“Why didn’t she mention that sooner?”

“She doesn’t think there’s a connection because the woman hadn’t called Dicky for a while—at least, not that she knew. I don’t know that that’s necessarily true. Dora might have stopped calling because he blocked her phone calls. The fact that Mother wasn’t aware of her doesn’t necessarily mean Dora wasn’t still stalking him.”

“Dora Beauford you said?”

“Right.”

“I’ll check it out.”

After a hesitation, A.J. asked, “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. Look, A.J., I’m in the middle of something. I’ll give you a call later, okay?”

“Of course!” she said quickly.

She clicked her cell shut and put her face in her hands.

The intercom buzzed.

“Miz Alexander,” Emma announced.

Glad for any distraction from her crumbling personal life, A.J. snatched the phone up. “Mother?”

“I found her!” Elysia said triumphantly.

“Found who?”

“Peggy Graham’s sister.”

“I didn’t know you were looking for her.”

“Of course I was looking for her. Who else would know whether Peggy killed herself?”

“How did you find her?” A.J. questioned uneasily.

“Oh, you know,” Elysia said airily. “The thing is, pumpkin, she’s agreed to meet with us this afternoon.”

“Meet with
us
?”

“Who else?”

“The police, for one.”

“Well, we should find out whether she has anything to say before we turn her over to the law, don’t you think?”

Mindful of Lily’s accusations—and Jake’s warnings—A.J. said, “It doesn’t work that way. I think maybe we should leave this to Jake.”

“It’s always worked this way for us in the past.”

“Mother, you make it sound as though we ran some kind of formal criminal investigation agency. The truth is, we’ve just poked around in other people’s business until they got fed up and reacted—sometimes, if you’ll recall—violently.”

Elysia scoffed at this reminder. “What does it matter what the catalyst for truth is?”

“It matters if we blow Jake’s case or get ourselves killed.”

“I. See.” Could there be two more ominous words in the English language?

“I just think—”

“ ‘Sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.’ ” Elysia interrupted with one of her favorite quotes from Shakespeare—one that A.J. hadn’t heard for a few years, and would have been happy to have kept it so.

“Mother.”

“Say no more. If you’re going to abandon me in my hour of need, I shall have to manage on my own. Fortunately I still remember a trick or two from my days on
221B Baker Street.
”

A.J. groaned. Lily was going to love this. “What time is this meeting?”

“I’ll pick you up at the studio just after three,” Elysia said immediately, cheerfully.

“Peg
was headstrong. Didn’t like not getting her way.”

A.J. and Elysia were sitting in Mart Crowley’s large, sunny garden sipping iced tea.

The garden was decorated with ball-sized Easter eggs and resin lambs and ducks. A giant blue inflatable bunny was lying like a puddle on the lawn.

Elysia inquired, “Was there any reason to suspect your sister’s death was
not
suicide?”

Mart’s jaw tightened. “Plenty. Peg was not the kind of person to take her own life. And I never knew her to take a sleeping pill. She was positive, forceful. Does that sound like someone who relied on sleeping pills or would kill herself?”

“Was she in ill health by any chance?”

“Nope. Strong as an ox.”

“She didn’t leave a note or anything like that?”

“No.” Mart added grudgingly, “But even if she did kill herself, she wouldn’t have left a note. Peggy had a real thing about her privacy. She wouldn’t have wanted any publicity.”

“Did you tell the police your suspicions?” asked A.J.

“Sure. They didn’t exactly tell me that everyone said the same thing, but I got the impression that a lot of people have trouble accepting a suicide verdict.”

Elysia meditatively tapped one polished fingernail on the glass-topped table. “Was your sister involved with anyone? Sometimes when romances end badly a person can experience an emotional low.”

“Ha!” At Mart’s harsh laugh the birds in the feeder took flight in bright flashes of color. “Not Peg. She wasn’t the sentimental kind. Oh, she had her disappointing
affaires de coeur
, but she wasn’t the kind of person to sit around brooding and feeling sorry for herself. No, she did her best to get even with the little ba—creep.”

A.J. had to admire that skilful look of attentive inquiry from Elysia.

“He was an
artiste
,” Mart said. She waved her hands as though playing pat-a-cake. “A sculptor. You know the kind of thing. Nudes that look like Buddhas and sumo wrestlers. My grandkids do a better job with Play-Doh. She should have known better at her age.”

“What happened?”

“What you’d expect. She paid a fortune for art classes she didn’t need and art supplies she never used. Why not, anyway? They were both consenting adults.”

“Why not, indeed,” murmured Elysia.

“But Peggy fell in love?” A.J. suggested.

Both Elysia and Mart snickered. “Bless your heart,” Mart said. “No, babycakes. Nothing like that. Oh, she was fond of the kid, I guess, but it was just a holiday romance. Except at home. You know the kind of thing.”

Elysia sighed and nodded wisely, auditioning for the part of Woman of the World.

“I don’t think she gave him another thought once it was over and she was busy with her friends and charity work. But then the letters started.”

“What kind of letters?” The penny dropped. “
Blackmail
?”

“Smart girl,” Mart said to Elysia. “Yes, blackmail. There were pictures. Graphic pictures—and plenty of them. Well, Peg was furious, but what could she do? She had her name and position to think of. Not that Peg really cared about that kind of thing, but you know how people can be. She was on a lot of committees with a lot of stuffed shirts who would have taken a dim view of any hanky-panky.”

“How was she approached? E-mail? Snail mail?”

“Yes. Real mail. The letters were sent from Hamburg and the payments were made to a post office box in Newton.”

“Newton,” Elysia said quickly.

“It’s the county seat,” A.J. pointed out. “We can’t make too much of that.”

“Where did she meet this boy?”

At the same time, A.J. asked, “Did they meet on a cruise by any chance?”

“No.” Mart sounded sure. “No, Peggy never went on a cruise. She was deathly afraid of water. To be honest, I can’t remember where she said she met him.”

“Where did your sister get her hair styled?” Elysia asked.

“Oh that overpriced place in Newton. The Salon or whatever they call it.”

A.J. and Elysia exchanged looks.

“Did she approach this boy after the blackmail began?”

“Ohhhh yes,” Mart said with grim satisfaction. “Did she ever. And she kept approaching him.” She laughed heartily. “He claimed he wasn’t blackmailing her. That it was nothing to do with him. He was romancing some other rich widow by then, and Peg did her best to stick a spoke in
that
wheel.”

“Did she try approaching the woman directly?”

“No. I asked her about that. She said it wouldn’t do any good. The woman wouldn’t believe her or was too crazy about the kid to care—and Peg hadn’t paid fifty thousand dollars to protect her good name just to reveal it to some stranger who was old enough to know better.”

“Fifty thousand dollars,” A.J. repeated weakly. “What about those blackmail payments? Did your sister ever try to find who was picking them up from the post office box? Whether it was this boy or not?”

Mart said slowly, “I don’t know. She talked about it at one point. I don’t know if she ever really did pursue it. If she did, she didn’t tell me about it. Peg was private. That’s why she let them extort money from her, I guess. Me? I’d have said publish and be damned.” She took a defiant swig of iced tea.

“Would Peg have been likely to confront the blackmailer?”

“It’s possible. If she could have done it safely—I mean, done it and kept her secret.”

“She should have gone to the police,” A.J. said. Both Mart and Elysia gave her scornful looks. A.J. insisted, “She’s dead because she didn’t speak up.”

Elysia dismissed this with a graceful flutter of fingers.

A.J. ignored her and asked, “Do you remember what this boy’s name was? Was he Egyptian, by any chance?”

“No. Blond and blue-eyed as I recall. His name was something like Cory. I don’t remember a last name. I don’t think Peg ever mentioned it.”

“Would you have an address for him or any idea of how to get in contact with him?”

Mart shook her head.

“What about your sister’s papers? Do you think there might be something there that might provide a lead?”

Mart scratched her head, frowning meditatively. “I don’t remember seeing anything, but then I wasn’t looking for anything. Not to do with the kid, anyway. I tried to find some way to prove she had been blackmailed. But there was nothing.” She grimaced. “I’m a pack rat. My sister was the opposite. She never kept anything she didn’t have immediate use for. And I’ve seen banks that didn’t have files and paperwork as well organized as she was.”

“She wouldn’t wish to take a chance on something falling into the wrong hands,” Elysia remarked.

“Exactly. That’s exactly right. She wasn’t someone who left anything to chance. She didn’t like to gamble.”

“But she took a chance when she had the affair with Cory or whatever his name was,” A.J. pointed out.

The other two women stared at her. Then Mart reached over and patted her hand. “You’ll understand when you’re older, babycakes.”

 

“They
killed her,” Elysia said with ghoulish satisfaction as they left Mart Crowley’s quiet suburban home and started back to Stillbrook. “Either way you look at it, they killed her.”

“If she killed herself because she was being blackmailed, I agree that philosophically and ethically the blackmailers are guilty. But I don’t know how that would hold up in a court of law. I don’t know that could ever be proved since she didn’t leave a note.”

Elysia shifted into high gear as they reached the open highway. “Immaterial. She didn’t kill herself.
They
killed her.”

A.J. wasn’t so sure. In fact their interview with Mart Crowley had left her less sure. “That wouldn’t be so easy to do, Mother. First of all, Peggy didn’t typically take sleeping pills, so how would they get her to swallow an overdose?”

“Force-feed her. Slip them in her bedtime warm milk. I don’t know. I just know they did.”

“But once Mart started claiming foul play the police would surely have checked for signs of violence. There couldn’t have been any.”