Dying in Style (29 page)

“Would you like to stop for coffee or a sandwich?” Josie asked.

“No. I do not want to eat with you,” Marina said.

I have to face this woman on an empty stomach with no caffeine, Josie thought. They sprinted through the mall in silence until they came to the back staircase, decorated with banners that said CELEBRATE FALL IN PLAZA VENETIA STYLE. Each banner hung on a spearlike brass standard. The banners had muted orange and yellow leaves. Autumn’s flaming colors did not exist at Plaza Venetia. Neither did the end-of-the-year sadness that gave this season its special beauty.

Marina loped up the stairs. Josie followed, panting like an old dog. She was looking forward to that bench by the fountain. On a better day she would have admired the bronze mums planted around its splashing, soothing water. The sweet smell of chocolate wafted from the shop around the corner. Josie’s stomach growled again.

The fountain alcove was a good choice—isolated from most mall traffic, but not completely deserted. An occasional shopper wandered by.

“Are you wearing a wire?” Marina asked.

“No,” Josie said.

“Before I talk, I will pat you down and check your purse.”

“Only if I can do the same to you,” Josie said. She hoped security didn’t come by and see two women feeling each other up.

Josie looked in Marina’s bag. It was too small for a wallet. She saw a lipstick, credit card, driver’s license, small brush and a black cylinder.

“Perfume?” Josie said.

“My inhaler,” Marina said. “I have asthma.”

Josie tried to look innocent while Marina searched her Coach bag. The Russian looked disgusted at the wad of used Kleenex Josie had packed on top as a distraction. Marina gave Josie’s cell phone only a cursory inspection. She never noticed it was on.

“So,” Marina said. “We are here.” She looked hard and arrogant. “What is it you want to know?”

“What is your relationship to Serge?” Josie said.

“What do you mean?”

“Look,” Josie said, “if we fence around this way, we’ll be here all day. Serge was your husband, wasn’t he? You were married in Russia.”

“How do you know that?” Marina said.

“Most people thought you were his sister. But Mrs. Perkins saw you kissing him. She thought you had an incestuous relationship with your brother.”

Marina’s laugh was like a rusty gate. “That old woman has a dirty mind. She was always snooping where she didn’t belong.”

“That’s why Danessa wouldn’t marry Serge, wasn’t it?” Josie said. “It’s what you fought about in the stockroom. She knew Serge already had a wife. She wasn’t going to commit bigamy. How did she find out about you two?”

“She spoke Russian. Not a lot, but enough to hear Serge address me as his wife. She was already suspicious because Serge did not always act like a brother around me.”

“How could you stand Danessa living with Serge?”

Marina’s laugh turned derisive. “Danessa was gay, you fool. She was in love with Olga.”

“Urk!” Josie said. She couldn’t help it. She was surprised.

“Did Olga love her?” Josie said.

Now Marina’s laugh was like sandpaper on skin. “Olga loved money. Danessa had it. She loved to stay at Danessa’s mansion. Her own place was not a palace.”

Josie remembered the dreary little avocado green kitchen and the feasting bloody flies. She didn’t want to talk about Olga.

“Was Danessa in on the osmium-187 scam?” Josie said.

Marina shrugged. She didn’t ask how Josie knew about it. “Danessa said she wanted nothing to do with it, but she knew. I was the one who had to unpack the boxes. She didn’t want her fingerprints on anything. So I did the dirty work. But Danessa took the money Serge made from it.” Her contempt was corrosive.

“Serge told her there was no risk,” Marina said. “It wasn’t real nuclear weapons material. It was fake. The problem wasn’t the osmium-187. It was the people he sold it to—terrorists.”

“Did they kill him when they found out he’d scammed them?” Josie asked.

“No. They were killed first. In a car bombing in the Middle East. All four of them. Serge thought he was invincible then, a child of the gods.

“Then immigration started in after him. The officials started asking where he got his money. They suspected he was using Danessa’s store to launder it. If they knew he’d been selling to terrorists, even if he cheated them, they’d deport him. Serge had most of it hidden. He quit giving Danessa money. He tried to pressure her to marry him. He thought if he didn’t give her the money to keep her stores going, she’d say yes.”

“Is that when she started ordering cheap goods?” Josie said.

Now Marina’s eyebrows did go up. “How did you know that?”

“I saw the beading on those purses,” Josie said. “Plastic beads cost less, but they don’t catch the light. They look dull. And those so-called Italian leather bag were poorly sewn. Who put the fake MADE IN ITALY tags in those inferior purses?”

“That was Danessa’s idea,” Marina said. “When Serge’s money dried up, she cut back on the quality of the stock. She did not think anyone could tell. She said customers were stupid to pay her prices in the first place. ‘The more I charge, the better they think it is,’ she said. Danessa paid me to put in the new tags. She wouldn’t soil her hands with the actual dirty work.”

“And you’d go against your own husband?”

“I wanted him to take his money and disappear with me. We could go anywhere in the world. But he would not leave. He liked the celebrity life. He liked the”—she paused to search for the right word—“the limelight. That’s why I was at the store that day you mystery-shopped us. Another shipment had arrived and I had to unpack and tag it. Danessa denied I was there because she was afraid someone would find out about the cheap purses.”

“You did the dirty work,” Josie said. “You lived in a slum while Danessa lived in style. You took all the risks. Danessa got everything. But she wouldn’t help out Serge and go through with a bigamous marriage. Couldn’t he get a Russian divorce?”

“It would take too long. Serge declared himself single when he came to America. He lied. Immigration would not look kindly on this. I had to stay out of the picture. He had to marry an American soon or he’d be sent back, no matter how powerful his media friends. A quick marriage to an American woman was the only thing that would save him. And Danessa wouldn’t do it.”

Her eyes looked away from Josie for the first time. She’s lying, Josie thought. Was there some reason Serge had to stay away from Russia? Would it be fatal for him to go home? Or did he give his real wife a healthy chunk of that hidden money?

Did Marina know about Kate and the other women? Did she care? Or had that side of their marriage died? She was the only woman who had cried at Serge’s funeral.

But Josie thought Marina was shrewd. Unlike her spouse, she kept a low profile and stayed off immigration’s radar. She could hide out in the Russian community, take Serge’s money, and run if things turned rough.

“Did you know Serge took rat poison?” Josie said.

“Of course.”

“You found his body before the police did, didn’t you?”

Marina’s face was a mask of hate. “Yes. That bitch killed him. That miserable bitch.”

“Who?” Josie said.

“Danessa.”

“So that’s why you killed her,” Josie said.

Chapter 29

“You killed an innocent woman,” Josie said.

“No!” Marina’s voice was low and fierce. Josie had never heard such desperate denial in one word.

“I was there,” Marina said. “I saw Danessa bring my Serge’s orange juice with the dose of medicine in it. She gave it to him with her own hands. I saw Danessa murder my husband, only I did not know it. No one else could have tampered with his drink. Mrs. Perkins was not home. He had no other visitors that evening except me. Danessa gave him his juice and then she left for the stores about seven twenty. She said she had to visit them for damage control. That was your fault.”

This trail of death started with me, Josie thought. I mystery-shopped the Danessa stores and gave them a bad rating. Danessa stormed into Harry’s office and threatened me. She was killed that same night and I got blamed. It seemed so long ago, like some historic battle.

“Why didn’t Serge fix his own medicine?” Josie said. “Danessa never struck me as the sort of woman who waited on a man.”

“No, but Serge loved to be pampered. Danessa was extra nice to him because she thought her deal with the Creshan Corporation was going to fall apart. So she prepared his medicine drink and he died. My husband would be alive except for you.” Marina seemed to burn with hatred. Josie could feel its passionate heat. It was so out of place in the beautifully bland Plaza Venetia.

“Oh, no,” Josie said. “I’m not taking that guilt trip. You can blame yourself. If you’d waited on me better, I would have given your store a higher rating and none of this would have happened.”

“That worthless Olga was supposed to be minding the store,” Marina said. “She wandered off for coffee without telling me. She did as she pleased. Danessa never disciplined her. Olga could do no wrong. My Serge was just an accessory for Danessa, a man to wear on her arm when she went to her charity events. She used him for his looks and his money. He financed the stores. I used to read the news stories that called Danessa the St. Louis Martha Stewart and laugh. She could not balance a cash register, much less run a chain of stores.”

“Mrs. Perkins told me Serge was the real brains of the operation,” Josie said.

“She was right about that at least,” Marina said grudgingly.

“But he needed Danessa, too,” Josie said. “He used the stores to launder money from his scam.”

“Danessa never cared where the money came from,” Marina said. “She needed more and more. The stores were not doing well. They swallowed money in greedy gulps. She also liked to see herself as the great philanthropist. She lived for the news stories where she was Lady Bountiful helping orphans and battered wives. Charity can be an expensive vice.

“The Creshan deal would have given even Danessa enough money, for a while at least. Then you ruined everything with your bad report. A little nothing like you toppled Danessa’s mighty plans. I wanted to laugh. I thought that was the end of her ambitions. But Danessa saw a way out. If Serge was dead, she would not need the Creshan deal. She would inherit all of Serge’s money.”

“Wouldn’t you get it?” Josie said.

“Ah, I lied, too. I am an unmarried woman to your immigration. Serge and Danessa took out big insurance policies and made wills when they moved in together. She insisted. He thought it was a joke. Serge never thought he would die.”

“Serge gave you cash, didn’t he?” Josie said. “He didn’t name you in his will, but he made sure you were well provided for.”

Marina didn’t answer. “Serge died first, so his money became part of Danessa’s estate,” she said. “There was also a nice bequest for her faithful Olga. She can spend it in hell.” Marina’s laugh was straight out of a horror movie.

Josie looked around nervously, afraid they were drawing curious stares. But no one seemed to notice them. Two women, loaded with bags from expensive stores, stopped at the fountain. One was big and blond. The other was small and dark. They seemed to be friends. Just like Alyce and me, Josie thought, and wished with all her heart that she was shopping this afternoon.

“Thank God those pointy-toed shoes are going out of style,” the brunette said. “They kill my feet.”

“But what moron designed open toes for fall?” her blond friend said. “My feet will freeze.” She held up a chic store bag.

It’s not the moron who designs them, Josie wanted to say. It’s the moron who buys them.

“Make a wish,” the brunette said as she tossed some coins into the fountain.

“I wish I could eat all the chocolate I wanted and it wouldn’t land on my thighs,” her friend said.

“I wish I could find mums that color bronze,” the brunette said, admiring the fountain plantings.

I wish my life would go back to normal, Josie thought. I wish I’d never heard of Serge and Danessa. I wish I’d never found Marina.

The two women shoppers moved into the peaceful world of the mall, with its soothing music, splashing fountains and pretty trifles for sale.

Marina regarded the pair with withering contempt, then went back to discussing murder by the mums. Josie longed to check her purse and see if the phone had been recording the crucial confession, but she didn’t dare.

“So you believed Danessa had killed Serge. And you drove to Plaza Venetia and killed her,” Josie said.

“It was the best thing I ever did,” Marina said. “Danessa is dead and I am glad. She was an evil woman.”

“Evil?” Josie said. The single word escaped.

The only evil woman she saw was Marina. Hate had transformed her face. She had a skeleton’s grin and a lost soul’s empty eyes.

“Now answer my question,” Marina demanded. “Why do you say that Danessa did not kill Serge?”

“Serge killed himself,” Josie said.

“He would never commit suicide!” Marina cried.

“I didn’t say he did,” Josie said. “Serge was too cheap to get a prescription for warfarin. Instead he calibrated the dose from rat poison.”

“It was the same thing!” Marina said. “Americans love to throw away money on doctors, like old rich women. There was no need to get warfarin from a doctor when Serge could buy it at the hardware store for one-tenth the cost.”

“You don’t just pay for the prescription,” Josie said. “You pay for the doctor’s knowledge. Serge lost fifty pounds on his diet. A good doctor would have adjusted his medicine and given him a smaller dose. Serge didn’t change the dose when he lost weight, did he?”

“He was a big man!” Marina said.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Josie pressed.

Marina’s silence said everything.

“Didn’t you see the bruising on his skin?” Josie asked. “That’s a sign of warfarin poisoning.”

“I thought it was from other . . . things.”

Other women, Josie thought. Marina knew her husband was unfaithful.

“You found his body, didn’t you?” Josie said. “Before the police discovered it.”

“He passed out in front of me,” Marina said. “He hit his head on the marble coffee table and died as he fell to the floor.”