Design on a Crime (28 page)

"This is a strange time to stop by the department," she
said.

"I have to talk to you."

"So I gather."

Her up-and-down inspection made me aware of how I must
look-tired, hair as wild as ever, and clothes more wrinkled
than not. Still, I refused to let her intimidate me.

"Let's go to my office," she finally said. "We can talk
there."

I followed in silence, preparing what I'd say. But as was
usually the case, the minute the door closed, all my planned
eloquence joined the cow and jumped over the moon. I
blurted everything out.

"So here's the statue," I said at the end of my monologue. "I'm afraid my fingerprints are everywhere, but maybe you
can test for others too."

She shook her head. "You think this is necessary?"

"I don't think it's necessary, I know you have to test this
thing. I've told you about the Stokers, and now I have photos
with dates on the prints. Something's up with this thing."

I plunked the bronze on her immaculate desk. The dark
stain at the base of the statue caught my eye again. A grotesque
possibility occurred to me. "I just remembered something I
noticed the first time I saw this. Do you see that stuff down
there?"

The detective nodded without much interest.

'At first I thought it was a matter of age. You know, patina."
I waited for Detective Tsu's nod. "Now I'm not so sure. It's
only in one spot, and it doesn't look like a stain as much as
something encrusted in the folds of the dress."

Just thinking about it made me sick.

Detective Tsu picked up the Erte. She looked it over, turned
it around, then ran a short, rose-polished nail over the stain.
She stiffened, then shot a look my way.

"You might be right about one thing," she said. "This could
be encrusted matter and not a mark of age."

Even though her words did nothing for my twitchy stomach,
I felt vindicated. "So you'll test the bronze?"

"You've left me with no alternative, have you?" Karate
Chop Cop didn't sound happy about it, but grudging admiration showed in her face. "Still, how do you explain the
bloody rock? It was Marge's blood-your fingerprints too."

"I don't know. Maybe when she fell she struck her head
on the rock. You know, the wound itself."

"Maybe ... You realize that if this turns out to be significant, then I'll owe you an apology. You stuck to your guns,
and you might have come up with something."

"Someone had to do it."

Detective Tsu conceded with grace. 'And you thought I
wasn't doing it."

"Opinion nothing. You did nothing but look for ways to
tie me to the crime."

"I'm sorry that's the impression you have of my investigation. Believe me, I did more than pursue you." She placed
the statue on the desk. "It'll take a day or two to get anything
back from the lab. Please don't do anything crazy before I call
you with results."

"I'll try." Something else came to mind. "Will you release
Marge's body for burial now?"

"It's not up to me, but I think the coroner's been done for
days. Her next of kin, her husband, hasn't claimed her body
yet."

"He's a pig," I muttered. "I'll speak to Dad about it. He'll
call you to make arrangements."

She nodded. "By the way, and just so you know, we caught
the kids who vandalized the warehouse. They've been very
thorough in that area. I don't think there's a building they
haven't hit in one way or another."

I shrugged. "That's good."

Karate Chop Cop sent me a crooked grin. "Yes, it is. In more
ways than one. As is our discovery of Marge's Rolodex. It
was under another rhododendron, covered with a thin layer
of mulch."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Interestingly enough, the entire S section was
missing.

I winced. "It makes sense, even though it doesn't make
me any happier."

"I understand." The detective then glanced at the running
computer.

I got the hint. "I won't keep you any longer, but please
let me know what you find out. I know I'm still your prime
suspect, but I can't go on like this much longer."

For good measure, I added, "I didn't kill Marge."

Without making promises, Detective Tsu agreed that mine
was a terrible position.

At the door, I paused. "That's the understatement of the
century."

I left, and although I should have felt somewhat better, I
dreaded the lab results. Either way, Marge was still dead.

"Haley, honey," Gussie said the next morning. "I just had
to call. I'm so sorry I missed you last night, but you know
how the morphine knocks me out when the pain gets really
bad."

I'd had a moment of panic when I heard her voice. "That's
okay. I did what I had to do and didn't stay long. I've been
busy these last few days."

"How much more do you have to do to finish the rooms?"

"Not much. I have to bring over some accessories and
lamps I picked up. The upholsterer delivered the couch and
chair, didn't she?"

'And they look wonderful! You have such an excellent
eye. Tell you what. Why don't you and the reverend come to dinner tonight? That way you can bring the accessories, and
we can celebrate a job well done."

There was no getting around it. "That sounds great. What
time?"

'Around six, as usual. And I'll make those turkey tenderloins
you like so well."

"Just don't go to any trouble. You haven't been feeling well,
and you don't want to make things worse."

"Don't worry. After all these years, I know what I'm
doing."

"I'll see you later, then."

"Good-bye."

I was pretty sure I knew what had happened to Marge,
but knowing didn't make me any happier. I hoped the lab
did their thing fast so Detective Tsu could wrap things up.
For the first time in a long time, I wanted to get on with my
life, find out what God had in store for me, since it looked
like he'd snuck up and caught me, as Tyler had predicted
he would.

I wasn't there yet, but I had taken a couple of baby steps.

"Dinner was wonderful, as always, Gussie," Dad said, all
smiles.

She smiled. "You're welcome. As always."

"Well, Reverend," Tom said, standing. "Gussie tells me
she and Haley have a bunch of knickknacks they want to
play around with. I don't know about you, but that's not my
kind of thing. Want to run down to the driving range for a
bucket of balls?"

Dad and Tom had little in common. Tom was a jock, a fan of all things golf. Dad was an intellectual, more comfortable
with books than with golf clubs and balls. But he was a good
sport.

He shrugged. "Can't say I'll hit many, but I'm willing to
try my hand at it. Just don't expect much." He turned to me.
"I'll drive home after the golf, since you have your car."

Hmm ... I didn't like this. "How about you stop by here?
I'm taking the old coffee table and can't handle it alone."

Dad gave me a weird look but agreed to my request.

Thank goodness.

The two men left, and anxiety came. I hadn't known how
to hold them back without making a fuss, but I didn't like
the sudden silence in the house.

"Shall we start?" Gussie asked, her eyes bright, maybe
too bright.

"No time like the present." I wanted nothing more than to
finish so I could go home. "I left the box in the living room
when we got here. Let's start there."

Things went well in that room. It wasn't until we got to the
dining room that I noticed the feverish light in Gussie's eyes.

My stomach sank.

"I have to thank you for the fine job you've done on our
home." Gussie's voice came out sharp and excited. "You've
taken good care of me, and it's only right that I take care of
you now."

That was all I needed.

"I'm fine, Gussie. I take pretty good care of myself. Remember what you told Bella. I've been studying martial arts
for a while now."

She waved. "That's not the kind of care you need, honey. I have to make sure they don't lock you up in that horrible
jail again. I know how to do it too."

Gussie spoke fast, seemingly propelled by some powerful
force. I wondered how much medication she'd taken, if it
had affected her more than usual. If that was what made me
fear her so much.

"I can't let you suffer," she added. "I have a plan."

"A plan?"

"Everything's ready." She pointed to the table, where a
pen lay on some sheets of paper. "You just have to write your
friend the detective a nice note, and then I'll give you something to soothe you, something that'll help you get the rest
you need. You've been working too hard, you know."

Gee, how nifty. The woman who was about to kill me was
worried about my rest ... or lack thereof.

"I'm fine. I loved doing your rooms. And now I can't wait
to start on Noreen's new house. She wants to buy the Gerrity,
you know."

Gussie frowned. "I'm sorry. Noreen's going to have to find
herself another designer. You need your rest. And I can't go
to jail, you know. It's just not possible."

At least she knew the consequences of what she'd done.
"Gussie, no one's going to put you in jail. Just talk to Detective
Tsu. She's a very understanding woman."

Yeah, right. But at this point, I'd say just about anything to
save my hide. How had I wound up like this? All I'd wanted
was justice for Marge and to stay out of jail.

"You know that won't work, Haley," Gussie said. "She's
not an understanding woman. Look how she nearly got you
convicted of a crime you didn't commit."

As Mom used to say, in for a penny, in for a pound. 'A crime
you committed, right, Gussie?"

She puzzled. "It's not a crime. I had to right an old wrong and
keep the same thing from happening again. You understand.
After all, it's a matter of justice."

"Justice or vengeance?"

"Oh, no! 'Vengeance is mine,' sayeth the Lord."

That's when I realized how bad things were. Gussie had
lost touch with reality. Just as stress had once led her to steal,
her damaged mind had made her exact vengeance in the
form of murder.

"But I don't understand where I come in," I said. I hoped
I could keep her talking long enough for Dad and Tom to
finish their buckets of balls.

"Well, dear, things have changed now. I can't have you go
to jail for Marge's untimely death. That wouldn't be right.
And I do have to take care of you, now that your dear mother
is gone. You're tired, honey. You need your rest."

"I'm really fine-"

"Please take a seat at the table, Haley." Although Gussie
spoke with her usual gentleness, the gun in her hand spoke
otherwise.

I sat.

"Where'd you get that?" What was I, crazy like Gussie? Who
cared where the gun came from? "Why are you doing this?"

"Never mind the gun, Haley, and I'm not doing anything,
dear. You're writing a note to your detective friend. Please
make sure you tell her how sorry you are about Marge's murder. Oh, and don't forget to tell her you helped yourself to my
morphine. It does help you get some lovely, lovely sleep."

Gussie's voice now rang brittle and reedy. She spoke fast,
and that wild light in her eyes scared me more each minute.

"But-"

"Now, honey, you know it's not nice to argue with Mama.
Do as I say, Haley. Everything will be fine." She motored over
and reached for the cake stand in the middle of the table.
"Here. I made some of that mocha torte you like so much. I
have a pot of tea too."

Gussie sliced a wedge of cake. She handed me the plate,
and a morbid chuckle almost slipped out. Coffee-flavored
cake was going to be my last meal. Unfortunately, Gussie
was going to make me wash it down with tea. I would have
preferred Starbucks.

"Thanks," I said. My sarcasm went right over her head.

"See?" She smiled her old smile, and for a moment, tears
filled my eyes. Another loss.

Then she added, "Mama knows best, Haley. Here's your
tea now. And make sure you drink every drop. Mama put
your bedtime tonic in it."

Horror surged in a rush of nausea, but I couldn't give up. I
had to get through this. I had to outthink a woman who had
truly lost her mind.

"Go ahead, Haley. Write that letter like a good girl."

The gun aimed for my head and never wavered. I took
up the pen and wrote a confession to a murder I didn't
commit.

"That's much better, dear. Now, eat your cake while you
write. It's past your bedtime, and as soon as you're done,
you'll have to go night-night."

I couldn't give panic a foothold. If I did, I was lost. I wrote and nibbled, nibbled some more. Finally, the cake was gone
and the letter written.

"I'm off to bed now," I said, rising. I could move faster than
Gussie. But I didn't know how good and fast she'd be with
the gun. I didn't want to find out the hard way.

"The tea, dear." She clicked the gun's safety.

She wasn't that far gone. She knew I was a threat, and she
knew she had to eliminate me. If I did it right, I could swig
down enough of the laced tea and jump her. Once I had the
gun, I'd just let my jumpy stomach do its thing. I was nervous
enough that nausea wasn't a problem.

I sipped and grimaced. It tasted bitter, almost as bitter
as the knowledge of what had happened to Marge. Gussie
must have realized that Marge and Tom had been in contact.
They'd only done business, but she must have assumed,
based on past experience, that they'd been up to the old
affair again.

She'd snapped. Plain and simple. Hatred like she'd carried
for so many years had poisoned her just as the morphine was
going to poison me.

I remembered what Tedd had said. I sure felt alone right
now, but I prayed. For the first time in four-plus years, I called
out to the God she insisted was at my side. I'm not sure if I
did it in faith or desperation, but I knew he held the answer
right then. I couldn't save myself.