Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) (6 page)

Chapter 9

Dear Meme,

Well, it’s happened again—and I don’t mean a night of hot passion with my new husband. I mean murder. Can you believe it? I’m not even in the country a week and I found another body. Luckily, I didn’t actually find it myself, but a young woman who was at a cookout we attended was killed. The police were called and it turns out John knows the inspector in charge. What a strange coincidence? They interviewed everyone and of course they think the husband did it, but I’m not so sure. The deceased had enemies and many were at the party. There’s definitely more to all this than has been revealed so far. I’m sure of it. I’m dying to ask some questions myself, but I’m in another country so of course I need to stay out of it but I fear John is going to become all wrapped up in the investigation. He spent the day with the police most of yesterday and he left again early this morning. So long, honeymoon. Whatever will I do with all my time? I miss you. Love, Alex.

“Well, how do you like that. We’re only here a few days and already our husbands are ready to get back to work.” Sam came out onto the terrace off the dining room, a cup of coffee and a plate piled with freshly baked croissants in her hands.

I closed the laptop the Smiths had left and turned to her. “Where exactly is Michael going?” I took one of the flaky pastries from my sister’s stack.

“He’s going to the dentist. Can you believe it? He told Susan he’d like to observe a European dental practice in action and the fool woman agreed. She must be just as nuts as he is.”

I laughed. The entire family knew how obsessed Michael could be about teeth and their proper care. Sam seemed to finally be figuring it out for herself.

“Hey, these are great,” Sam said with a mouthful of the croissant. “Do you think we could take some back with us?”

“They’re frozen, Samantha. I don’t think so.” I took another bite and added, “Well, maybe we could get some dry ice. You know the flight is only about eight hours. They’ll probably be fine but then we’ll have to eat them right away when we get home.”

“Sounds good to me.” Sam reached for a second croissant.

“I can’t believe I’m actually in Belgium. On my honeymoon.” I looked up to the sky and let the warm sun bathe my face. “I must be dreaming. Pinch me.” Sam reached over and gave my arm a good squeeze. “Ouch! I didn’t mean it literally.” I put down my teacup and rubbed the red mark.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes we’re grownups.”

“Make an effort. That hurt,” I pouted and then laughed knowing how ridiculous I must look.

“What else are we going to do today besides eat croissants and chocolate?” Sam asked.

I sighed. “I’m sure there’s another museum, actually a whole slew of them, but we did that yesterday. I do want to go to Bruges, but I think we best wait for the men. And I want to go to Antwerp and look at diamonds. I never did get an engagement ring. But I guess I need John for that, too. Cherbourg in France is on my list. I would love to see some of the beaches of World War II fame, but I have a feeling we won’t get there this trip,” I said. “There’s just so much to do, but actually, I’d like to talk with Wanda about what I overheard on Saturday.”

“I wondered how long it would take you to get around to murder.”

“Aren’t you curious? I mean, we’re in Europe, for goodness sake, the site of all those Miss Marple movies.”

“That’s England. This is Belgium. Though I think they have their own sleuth, Hercule Poirot or something,” Sam said. “Both are Agatha Christie so I guess it’s the same. Belgians have their very own fictional character named Maigret.”

“Fine. Then I can be Madam Maigret.”

“You know, Madam, this is not Indian Cove where you have your very own police detective to get you out of trouble. The Belgian authorities might not be so understanding at having an American poking her nose into their investigation. We might get arrested and have our passports confiscated and then we’ll be stuck here.” Sam took the last bite of her croissant and licked her fingers. “On second thought, I might be able to get used to living here. I wonder if they serve these things in prison. Lead on, Madam Maigret!”

Chapter 10

A half hour later I sat behind the wheel of the little Escort. The thought of Sam driving in Belgium with priority to the right and speed limits resembling the Indy 500, took away any apprehension I had about driving in a foreign country.

In no time at all and with no mishaps, we found ourselves in front of Wanda’s house. The pink plastic flamingos were still on the lawn where they had been the first time we came to the house. Wanda had explained it was an “Ohio” thing and it made her feel less homesick.

“Do you think we should have called first?” Sam asked.

“Probably, but I don’t think she’ll mind. If I know anything about finding a body or having one in close proximity, and I do, I would imagine right about now she’ll be very happy indeed to see us.”

I parked the little car in the gravel driveway and we went to ring the bell.

“Alex. Sam. Oh, no! Did I forget something? Was I taking you out today?” Wanda asked all aflutter.

“No. No. Not at all.” I patted Wanda’s gloved hand in an attempt to calm her down. “We thought you might need some company today.”

Wanda gave a relieved sigh. “How nice. Come in. I couldn’t sleep very well and I’ve been up since dawn so some company would be nice. I got most of the after-party clean up done yesterday but I didn’t have the nerve to go into the bathroom and besides, the police were here most of the day doing God knows what. They said they were done, so I guess I can clean in there today.” Wanda rubbed her hands together making a squeaking noise with the gloves. “I feel so responsible.”

“You. But why?” I asked. “It wasn’t your fault in any way.”

“It’s the bathroom, you see.”

I ran a hand through my short hair. I had had it cut and professionally highlighted for the wedding and with all the running around we were doing, I was thankful, for once in my life, it was short and easy to care for. “Well, no, I don’t see, Wanda. What does the bathroom have to do with anything other than being the scene of the crime?”

“I insisted, I mean really
insisted
we take this house because of the bathrooms.”

I cut my eyes to Sam wondering if Wanda might be having some sort of nervous breakdown.

Wanda waved her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense. We took this house because it had huge bathrooms, you see. Even the one downstairs was big, with a large sink and medicine cabinet and all. For guests, you see. And, well, Belgian homes usually just have a small room with a toilet and a cold-water sink. It’s usually located in the entry hall. For the guests, you see” she repeated.

“So what does this have to do with the price of beans,” Sam asked while I nudged my sister’s arm. Hard.

“If we just had a smaller room, like everyone else, well, two people would never have been able to fit into it and maybe the killer wouldn’t have been able to kill Martine.” Wanda’s eyes pleaded for understanding.

I noticed how bird-like Wanda looked. A very fragile bird. “Oh, Wanda. You can’t blame yourself. Whoever did this obviously wanted Martine dead. I mean, this wasn’t an accident by any means and if it wasn’t in your bathroom then it would have been someplace else.”

“Do you think so, Alex? It probably would have happened anyway, maybe upstairs.” Wanda turned and started to walk away. “Damn, I can’t get these gloves off. I can’t find my usual pair and these are really stiff.” Wanda gave the rubber gloves a good pull and they popped off. She ushered us into the kitchen and dropped the gloves in the trash. “I don’t usually wear these things except for a few gritty jobs. They last me for some time but I’ll be damned if I know what happened to the other set. Oh well. I was just about to have some coffee. Join me. Oh, Alex, you would prefer tea, wouldn’t you? Or maybe some pop? I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Tea is fine. Thanks. Wanda, we’re so sorry. We never got a chance on Saturday night to express our condolences. I’m sure Martine’s death must be very upsetting for both you and Bill. I don’t mean because she died here but because she worked with Bill for so long.”

“Alex and I have an assistant and well, if anything ever happened to Millie, God forbid, we’d be, well, I don’t even want to think of such a thing. We love Millie. Not only is she an employee, but a valued friend,” Sam said and she was right. I couldn’t imagine our business without Millie. The three of us just worked so well together.

“Martine wasn’t a friend. I feel very badly for her family and Paul, and the fact it happened here will haunt me forever, but other than that it doesn’t seem to be affecting me at all.” Wanda fingered a paper napkin and then looked up at us. “Really. I’ll be fine.”

Sam and I exchanged glances over the kitchen table. Wasn’t this the same woman who not a moment earlier was having a breakdown over the size of her bathroom and feeling so responsible?

“Maybe it just hasn’t hit you yet,” I said. “With all the commotion, you probably haven’t had a chance to even think about it except in terms of putting things back to normal.”

“No. It’s a hard thing to come to grips with, having someone murdered in your home, but Martine meant nothing to me.” Wanda shrugged. “You see, I think Bill was having an affair with her.”

Chapter 11

“An affair? Wanda, you can’t be serious. Surely you’re mistaken,” I replied to the bombshell Wanda had just dropped at our feet.

“Am I? Oh, you’re right, Alex. I’m sure I’m wrong. What’s the matter with me?” Wanda abruptly laid her head on the table and then just as abruptly looked up again. “I guess I had better explain.”

“It’s really none of our bus—” Sam kicked me under the table so I said, “Maybe it would help you to feel better.” I admit it; I really wanted to hear what she had to say as much as Sam.

Wanda got up to get another cup of coffee and brought the entire pot to the table. “Bill had an affair with his secretary when we lived in Germany. It didn’t last long, but well, I guess I still haven’t gotten over it. I want to trust him, I do, really, but he’s been working such long hours and he’s never home.”

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Sam volunteered. “If I suspected Michael of cheating, you better believe I would talk to him, and fast. Of course this would be while he was recuperating in the hospital after I broke his arms and legs and rearranged a few vital organs.”

This last statement, though true, got the desired effect and Wanda laughed. “Speaking of which, where are your husbands?”

I explained about John helping the police and Michael’s rendezvous with Wanda’s dentist.

“Sam’s right, though, Wanda. You need to speak with Bill. He may very well be working late. It is his business after all, and take it from us, when it’s your own, you take it
very
seriously. We worked many a long night putting the business before our relationships. It can be tough.”

“You’re right. I’ll talk with him tonight. It’s probably exactly as he says. He’s just overworked.”

“Good. Wanda, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Sure, Alex. What is it?” Wanda looked at me and smiled, her front teeth sticking out just a tad, giving her the bird look again.

“While I was sitting on the patio on Saturday afternoon I overheard you and Donna speaking in the kitchen. She sounded upset because you invited Martine to the barbecue.”

“Yes, she would be. You see, Doug
did
have an affair with Martine. So you can see why I can so easily think Bill may be having an affair with her as well. I know she’s capable of it.”

“My goodness.” Sam reached for the coffeepot and poured herself another cup.

“Donna was furious with me for inviting Martine. The affair’s been over for about two years and it only lasted about a month, but they still work together and it’s always in the back of Donna’s mind.”

“I guess it would be.” I wondered how I would handle the situation if I knew John had been intimate with a female member of the force. “Knowing about this,
why did you
invite Martine?”

Wanda absently stirred her coffee. “Well, I didn’t exactly. Bill did.”

Sam had her chin resting in her hand. “Forgive me but that seems a bit insensitive for him to do to his partner.”

“Not really. Bill doesn’t know about the affair. Donna asked me not to tell Bill and I never have.”

“He never suspected?” I asked.

“If he did, he never said anything to me. I doubt he knows, though. Those aren’t the kinds of things Bill notices. And, I’m sorry to say, if he did know, it would be all the more reason for him to invite Martine. He would get great joy antagonizing his partner, I’m afraid.”

“You mean they don’t get along?”

Wanda shook her head vigorously, her dark brown hair caught up in a ponytail slapping against the side of her face. “No, they don’t. And the truth is I’ve never been quite sure why. You’ve seen Bill. Along with his large size, he’s got a steamroller personality to go along with it. He and Doug have very different styles. He’s quite forceful with his clients and Doug is…I’m not sure of the word. I think Bill has always thought of Doug as being a pushover. Doug pays more attention to his clients and seems to let them guide their investments whereas Bill feels people come to him for his input and he tells them what to do rather than asks them what they want. Both he and Doug the job done, though, just from a different angle.”

I sat there thinking from what Wanda told us Bill might very well come off as a bully where Doug seemed to give his clients more counseling. If given the choice, I had a feeling I would prefer to work with Doug. “Why do they continue working together?” I asked, knowing John couldn’t function if he and his partner didn’t get on well.

“Look around.” Wanda raised her hands and gestured around the room. “Most ex-pats rent homes when they come here. We bought this place. The kids go to the American School.” I looked at Sam and hunched my shoulders wondering what all this had to do with anything. “I wanted them to go to a Belgian school. I thought as long as we were going to be living here for a while, they might as well, but no, Bill wanted them at the private school. About thirty thousand per year per kid.”