A Mold For Murder (3 page)

“I’ll do my best.” As I walked to the microphone, I was frantically searching the gathered crowd, hoping that Sharon was waiting for us out on the sales floor. She was nowhere to be seen. All of the chairs in front of the worktable and microphone were full, and there was standing room only behind them. We’d had to move out some of our shelves in order to accommodate our visitors, and I’d worried about the lost revenue, but at least we were packing people in, and if the number of shopping bags they carried was any indication, the day might just be profitable after all.

I tapped the microphone with my finger and a squeal cut across a dozen conversations like a fan through smoke. “Excuse me,” I said a little louder than necessary, causing some of the people sitting near the speakers to wince. “We’re ready to get started.”

I took a deep breath, then adjusted my voice to the correct volume. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege and honor to introduce a soapmaking master to you this afternoon.” Did she honestly expect me to read it all? There was more of it than I could stomach, so I scanned down a few paragraphs, then flipped the paper over. If the contessa had a problem with my truncated introduction, she was just going to have to deal with it.

Ad-libbing, I said, “Please join me in welcoming our honored guest, the Contessa New Berne.”

The applause was heartfelt, but there was no sign of the woman herself. I’d been expecting a grand entrance, but it looked like she wasn’t interested in coming out with less than her usual introduction.

As the applause started to die, I tried one more time. “The Contessa New Berne.”

It came back up again, but slowed rather quickly, and we were still without our speaker.

I leaned into the microphone and said, “Sorry about that. I’ll be right back.”

There were a few giggles from the crowd, but many more grumbles. She’d made me look like a fool, and I was prepared to give her a withering remark as I walked to the back room to look for her.

That’s when I nearly tripped over the body.

TWO

I
yelled for help as I leaned over the contessa’s still form and searched for a pulse, but I couldn’t find one. She was sprawled out on the floor, her carefully pressed clothes askew. I was appalled when I saw there was a bar of soap jammed in her mouth, the custom blend we’d made just for the Soap Celebration. Had she actually choked to death on it? I wanted to pull it out of her mouth, but I had a deadening suspicion that our guest was past helping, and I knew better than to interfere with a crime scene. Molly had lectured me over and over again how everything was important, no matter how insignificant it appeared. Had she tried to fight her killer, or had the murderer struck too quickly for self-defense?

I don’t know how anyone heard my plea for help in the boutique, but my brother Jim came crashing through the door three seconds after I shouted out. He’s a big guy—husky and solid—and not much gets to him, but when he saw the contessa’s body, I saw his knees start to buckle.

“What happened?” Jim stammered as he stared down at her, leaning against the door frame.

“See if there’s a doctor out there, then call 911.”

He just stood there, staring at her, until I shouted, “Move!”

That got his attention. Jim hurried back to the boutique, and I tried to figure out if there was anything I could do but stand there and guard the body. It was the least I owed her, since the only reason the Contessa New Berne had even been in Harper’s Landing was because of me.

Jim came back thirty seconds later with a middle-aged woman right behind him. She brushed past us both when she spotted the contessa lying on the floor. As she checked for any sign of life, I stood back with Jim.

He said softly, “Bob and Jeff are right outside the door. So far we’ve managed to keep everyone else from knowing what happened. I wouldn’t have heard your shout myself if I hadn’t been standing near the door.”

“Good,” I said, and my gaze automatically went to the back door of our business. For the first time since I’d discovered the body, I saw that it was unlatched and partially open.

When I pointed it out to Jim, he said, “You know we keep that door closed and locked all the time. I don’t get it.”

“Think about it. Either the killer came in that way, or that’s how he left,” I said. “Molly will have to figure out what happened.”

I was sure that door had been closed and locked when I’d escorted the contessa down the stairs. Or was I? Had I really paid that much attention to something I saw every day? As I tried to replay the descent in my mind, I finally decided I couldn’t be sure either way.

Jim coughed once, then said, “Listen, I’m sorry I froze up on you like that.”

“It’s not a problem,” I said.

“It just shocked me, seeing her like that.”

I put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You did fine.”

He shrugged. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone else.”

“Mention what?” I asked him, offering a slight smile.

“Thanks.” Jim had a reputation, both among the family and the community, that he was tough—blunt and abrupt—and if the conception was that important to him, I didn’t mind. Me, I didn’t care if the whole world knew that stumbling across a dead body had a way of shaking me to my core.

“I can’t help her,” the doctor finally said. “I’m afraid what you need is a coroner.”

“This had to have just happened,” I said. “I was with her five minutes ago.”

She shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say she died pretty quickly.”

“Did the soap choke her to death?” Jim asked.

Cleaning her hands with a shop towel, the doctor stood as she said, “No, I found a head wound in back that appeared to go pretty deep. My guess is that someone hit her from behind with the claw end of a hammer or something like that.”

I could see where the blood was starting to star out its stain near the contessa’s head. “So why was the soap shoved halfway down her throat?” I asked.

“If I were to guess, I’d have to say there’s some significance to it that we don’t know yet. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you right now.”

“Thank you,” I said as I offered her my hand without thinking. “I’m Ben Perkins, and this is my brother Jim.”

She started to shake my hand, but then must have realized that despite her cleaning attempts, she was in no position to return the courtesy. “I’m Karen Weiss. I’m a dermatologist, and I’ve got to tell you, I haven’t seen a blunt force trauma since my turn at an emergency room in Virginia.”

“I’m just glad you were here,” I said.

“I didn’t do anything, honestly. I’m from Hickory, and I drove up when I heard you were hosting the contessa. I’m a huge fan.” She glanced down at the body, then corrected herself. “I was, I should say. I’m really sorry I couldn’t help her.”

Molly rushed in, dressed in her police uniform, with my brother Jeff on her heels. They’d been dating for a few months, and they were getting pretty serious. I’d had a tough time with their relationship at first—since I’d dated Molly through high school and some time beyond it—but I was finally at the point where I was happy for them both. It was hard enough finding love in this world, and if they had discovered it in each other, I was determined to be happy for them.

“Has anybody touched anything?” Molly asked. Now why was she looking so hard at me when she asked that?

Doctor Weiss answered for me. “I didn’t disturb anything, but I did check the victim for a pulse. She was dead when I got here.”

“From the soap?” Molly asked.

“No, it was a blunt force trauma. I can show you if you’d like.”

“That would be great,” Molly said. “But give me one second first.” She whispered something into her radio, then she moved toward the body, with Jeff close behind.

Molly turned to him and said, “You need to help Bob guard the door.”

I’d expected him to put up some kind of resistance, but he just nodded and left us. It was amazing to see the changes that love had wrought in both of them. There had been a softness in her voice when she’d ordered him to return to his station, and that had startled me nearly as much as finding the contessa’s body.

After thirty seconds of the doctor’s explanation, Molly stood up. “Thanks, Doc. Could you stick around for a while?”

“I’d be happy to, though I’m not sure what good I can do.”

“I just need to get a statement from you.”

Molly turned to me then and said, “Ben, you might as well know that I’ve sealed off the front exit so I can interview everyone here. We’re keeping it as low-key as we can right now, but when your customers find out what happened here, they’re not going to be happy about being forced to stay.”

So that’s what she had whispered into her radio earlier. “Molly, nobody in there had anything to do with this. The back door was open when I found her. I’ve got a hundred customers in there right now.”

She looked at me steadily. “I hate to interfere with your business, but I’ve got a murder to solve. No one leaves until one of my officers talks to them, understood?”

“Yeah, I know you’re right. But Mom’s going to want to talk to you about it.” I knew Molly wasn’t anymore interested in getting chewed out by my mother than any of the rest of us, but there wasn’t much chance she was going to avoid a scolding, and she knew it. Molly frowned at me, then started talking to her office on her radio, dismissing me and the doctor from her thoughts completely.

Doctor Weiss frowned, so I asked her, “Is there something wrong?”

“I was hoping to get some shopping done,” she admitted.

“Molly,” I said as she put her radio back on its belt clip. “Would it be all right if the doctor browses in the shop while she waits for you? She’ll be right there if you need her.”

“What? That’s fine. Just so she doesn’t wander off.”

The doctor squeezed my arm. “Thank you so much.”

“Tell you what. Come find me when you’re ready to check out. I’ll give you a discount.” My mother wouldn’t like it, I knew that without even asking, but the way I looked at it, the doctor had done us a service, and I hated for the books not to balance.

“I appreciate the thought, but my hobbies are my only vices, so I can afford to indulge them.”

“Why don’t you go with her?” Molly asked. “And take your brothers with you.”

“I thought you needed them for sentry duty.”

“Thanks, but some of my people will be here any minute. Tell Jeff for me, would you?”

I nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Is there any way we could get the ambulance driver to come in through the back door?”

“I’ve already taken care of it,” she said. “They have their instructions to come in that way.”

“Thanks,” I said, then almost as an afterthought, I added, “It wouldn’t hurt to check that back door for prints.”

The scorn in her gaze was readily obvious. “Thanks for the crimebuster tip, but I actually thought of that myself.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help,” I said.

“I understand,” she replied, her voice more gentle. “Ben, you know how homicides on my turf make me cranky.”

I nodded, then decided to take her advice and go back out front before I managed to get myself in any trouble. I’d been the last person to see the contessa alive; besides the killer, at any rate. While I hadn’t been all that fond of Contessa New Berne during our brief acquaintance, I’d had no reason to want her dead. Even without the homicide, the red ink we were experiencing would assure that this would be the first and last Soap Celebration we ever had at our shop.

I found Jeff and Jim guarding the door between the boutique and the factory sections of our business.

“You guys can go,” I said. “Molly’s got reinforcements on the way.”

“I’ll stay,” Jeff said. “Someone could still try to get through.”

He looked at me as if he were daring me to demand he leave his post, but in all honesty, I didn’t care.

“Suit yourself,” I said as I brushed past him. I wanted to find Diana to tell her what had happened, but she wasn’t near the book table, and I couldn’t find her anywhere else in the shop. People were still in their seats, and I realized that they didn’t know the contessa was dead. I’d forgotten all about the planned presentation the second I’d stumbled over the body.

I made my way to the microphone, trying furiously to think of something to say to them. Finally, I announced, “I’m sorry to say that today’s talk and demonstration have been canceled.”

There were some angry murmurs coming from the crowd, and a lot of them were directed at me.

“Why won’t she do it?” a woman in front asked. “I saw her. She was just here.”

A man with a crusty frown asked, “Where is she? Did she walk out on us?”

Another voice said, “You’re both wrong. I don’t think she even bothered to show up.”

I held up my hands, waiting for them to stop while I tried to come up with something to tell them. There was no easy way to put it. “The contessa is dead,” I said. That shut them up, so I added quickly, “And the police want to interview each of you before you leave.”

That caused the uproar I’d been expecting all along. Making a half-hearted attempt at salvaging something from the mess, I added, “Why not take the time to shop while you wait? We’re offering a 20 percent discount on everything in the store as a way of apologizing for any inconvenience this might cause you.”

At least that quieted them down. Mom rushed up to me less than two seconds after I’d finished my announcement. “Benjamin Perkins, have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how much you just cost us?”

Normally I would take the chiding and move on, but I wasn’t in the mood. “Tell me something, Mom, how much would we lose if we didn’t offer them anything? Having a homicide on the premises isn’t going to put our customers in a buying mood. Besides, I was kind of hoping it would distract them from realizing what just happened.” I paused a second, then added, “I’m fine, by the way, though I nearly tumbled over the body when I found her lying there on the floor.” I didn’t mention the bar of soap shoved halfway down her throat. Mom would learn about that soon enough—hopefully from someone else.