Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4) (17 page)

“As you know,” I said, “I`m a writer too. Despite statements to the contrary, the story lines are often based on the people we know or situations we`re familiar with.”

Anika gave Paskert the full star treatment. “I read that novel in one setting.” She glanced at her husband. “So did Bolin. It was captivating! Quite naughty though, especially that FetLife business.”

Paskert stalled for time by biting into a watercress sandwich. After chewing carefully he nodded. “Sonia’s imagination was very active. Too much so for someone guiding undergraduates. Impressionable young minds and all that. It`s one of the reasons we decided to award tenure elsewhere.”

“No kidding? Sorrel Yeagan agreed to that?” I tried the wide-eyed act but failed.

“Tenure is strictly a university matter, Ms. Kane. We accept feedback from others of course.”

In academia, such a rebuke would crush the recipient. Fortunately, I am an independent contractor long removed from the halls of ivy.

“No wonder you and Sorrel went to find her that last day. What a difficult conversation that must have been!” I heaved a pronounced sigh.

We all accepted more tea, although Paskert looked ready for something stronger.

“Ah, Chinese Wedding Tea. One of our favorites.” Bolin nodded approvingly.

Anika agreed. “This is so thoughtful of you, Professor. Tell me. What frame of mind was Sonia in that afternoon? Eja and I spent most of the day with her, you know. She seemed confident, ebullient. Ready to take on the world.”

Paskert was trapped. No admonishments for Mrs. Bolin Swann. No sir. A direct question required a direct response.

“That`s just it,” he said. “I never saw Sonia that day. Sorrel and I spoke and went over to her office, but the door was closed. We knocked of course. I supposed that she had gone home. Nadia hinted that Sonia was a bit tipsy.”

“Really?” Anika’s tone was frosty.

“Perfectly natural under the circumstances,” Paskert added. “Coming from a funeral and all. I finished some paperwork and left around six.”

Bolin rose and shook Paskert’s hand. “Thank you for the hospitality. My son will keep you apprised of our decision.”

And thus ended another Boston Tea Party.

Chapter Nineteen

I WASN`T SURE THAT we`d learned much other than the obvious: Bolin Swann scared the Shakespeare out of Fess Paskert. Money talks in academia as well as every other sphere of life, and the Swann Foundation was a soliloquy that rivaled Hamlet’s.

Since Deming would demand a full accounting, I spent some time organizing my thoughts. Paskert’s denial about
Worm
was no surprise. No right-thinking man would cop to the description of an addled wuss with a kinky streak. If his timetable was correct, Sonia must have died before 6 p.m., shortly after we dropped her at the University. Zarina also confirmed that Sonia’s office door had been shut.

One comment struck a discordant note. Nadia described Sonia as “tipsy” according to Paskert. She told me that she never saw Sonia that day, a glaring inconsistency that demanded further exploration. Someone had lied.

The expedition to the chemistry lab was another potential bombshell. Excluding Sorrel and Melanie, all the other suspects had been there. One of them might well have found cyanide and taken a sample. Paskert had ready access to poison whenever he chose, so he was unlikely to steal it then. Had Sonia seen one of her colleagues dipping into the cyanide and paid the price?

I slipped into the library with the
Wall Street Journal
in hand. Suddenly, Cato launched a spate of hysterical barking and flung himself against the front door. I checked my watch. It was barely 5 p.m.—way too early for Deming. Our place occupied the entire second floor, and each unit was keyed separately into the elevator. Repair guys always made appointments through the concierge.

To satisfy my curiosity, I phoned the front desk. Jorge, our extravagantly tipped concierge, answered immediately. The poor fellow lived in fear of incurring Deming’s wrath or losing the bucks that went with it.

“Yes, Ms. Kane, I mean Mrs. Swann. How can I help you?”

“It`s probably nothing, but did anyone come asking for me? Cato is going crazy up here.”

“Not since I`ve been on duty. I`ll check the computer.” Jorge was back in a flash “Nope. Let me come up and check things out.”

I should have said no. Only a coward would be afraid to open her own door. Something, some sixth sense, told me that this time the better part of valor was caution. Two minutes later Jorge rang the buzzer. Cato went into his act again, but the histrionics were limited by the firm hold I had on his leash.

“Sorry to bother you,” I said before studying Jorge`s face. His expression was solemn, a world away from his normally jovial demeanor. “What`s wrong?”

I swept open the door and immediately saw the problem. Someone had defaced our beautiful walnut door by painting a skull and crossbones on it. A big red skull and crossbones with blood-drops! Come to think of it, the blood drops looked real.

Cato gave me a sardonic look as if demanding vindication. Despite his many failings, Cato is an excellent watchdog. I gave thanks for that.

“Good thing that dog was on guard,” Jorge said. “Scared him off, I bet. Want me to call Mr. Swann?”

Deming would freak when he found out. I didn`t want to alarm him even though his presence would be an enormous comfort.

“That`s okay. I`ll call him. Thanks, Jorge.”

“I can clean that off for you,” Jorge offered. “No big deal.”

My voice quivered when I answered him. “Better not. The police might be interested in this. Take a picture of it with your cell phone though. That way, we`ll have evidence.”

As soon as he left I dialed Deming’s cell, something I rarely did when he was at work. Unfortunately, the call went straight to voicemail.

Cato remained on alert, prowling around the door and relishing his role as my protector. I wasn`t afraid—not really. But as the moments ticked by my sense of security began to erode. Finally I did the only sensible thing: I dialed the number of Bolin Swann.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER I had plenty of company. Anika, Bolin, and Po arrived followed a short time later by Deming.

Anika immediately put her arms around me and hugged me tight. “You`re shivering, Eja. Are you sure you`re all right?”

Bolin’s expression was calm but watchful. He and Po examined every room in our home and checked both doors and windows. “Just a precaution,” he said. “This is a big place.”

Deming arrived within the hour, trailed by a voluble Jorge whose tortured explanations of the incident served only to raise his anxiety level. By then we were sitting in the living room, sipping brandy. Po had produced some savory snacks although they remained untouched. When Deming held out his arms, I forgot to be brave and ran right to him. It felt good not to face a crisis alone. I normally subscribe to the Bella Brigade and COWE dogma, but when things go south, I need Deming.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing the hair from my eyes. “I should have been here. I`m so sorry about the cell phone. It won`t happen again.”

I made a feeble attempt at humor that fell flat. “Lucky for that criminal that Cato and I didn`t get to him first. We were ready for a real fight. Only a Philistine would deface such a beautiful door.”

Deming gritted his teeth. “Good thinking, Eja. Just remember this is life, not one of your novels. Real people—people just like you—can get hurt. Murdered even.”

While Bolin briefed his son on the situation, I did some quick thinking. Someone had been lying in wait this afternoon, prepared to leave that warning on our door. I`d been home less than an hour when Cato sounded the alert. No need to speculate about what might have happened if I`d opened that door and discovered the culprit. It was counterproductive and downright scary. I had no intention of joining the trail of female corpses left by this killer. The only logical solution was to take action and track down the miscreant. Fess Paskert could be excluded as a suspect because he had no time to react to events. Every other name was still in play.

“Have you called the police?” Anika asked.

Bolin nodded. “I spoke with Lieutenant Keegan. Naturally this is the Boston PD`s jurisdiction, but he`ll arrange everything. The linkage to the murders is obvious. He mentioned his meeting tomorrow with you ladies. I suggested it be held here so that forensics can handle everything at the same time.”

“Makes sense,” Deming said. “I`ll join them. Eja isn`t staying here by herself until this entire thing is resolved.”

Actually, it made no sense at all. Deming had clients, and I had a life. The two could never coexist without bloodshed.

“I`ll be fine by myself,” I said.

That earned me a look that bordered on insolence. Deming folded his arms and gave me his most ferocious scowl.

“There`s another option,” Anika said. “One you might want to at least consider.”

Deming and I froze, waiting for the next stiletto to drop.

“Relax and just listen,” Bolin said. “You both agreed that this place is too much to handle without help, didn`t you?”

We had discussed the issue but tabled it for later. Neither one of us wanted some stranger prowling about, invading our privacy.

Anika and Bolin locked eyes. “We may have the solution. You see, Po`s niece is relocating to Boston, and she`s available for several months.”

A smile as radiant as a ray of sunshine transformed Deming’s face. “Bernice? I didn`t know that. She`s quite a character as I recall. Graduated from Cornel School of Hotel Management.”

“Actually, she got her master`s,” Bolin said. “Hospitality Management. Top of her class. She`s taking a break before getting her PhD.”

I`d never met the woman, but tales of Bernice the niece were legend in the Swann household. Apparently she was one of the few humans alive who could stand her ground against Po and wrap him around her little finger in the bargain.

“As I recall, she`s a crack shot and a black belt.” Deming rubbed his hands together. “This night just work out. That way Eja would have backup in case she gets into another scrape.”

I tried to fake outrage, but my effort was halfhearted. We had plenty of room. Our home was ridiculously large for just two of us, and a private suite already existed in what had been the servants` quarters. It might work out.

“Wouldn`t she be bored?” I asked. “We lead a simple life.”

That remark got laughs all around, and we agreed to speak with Bernice once she arrived in Boston.

Unfortunately, finding the culprit who defaced our door was less easily resolved.

“One thing stumps me though,” Anika said. “I thought this was a secure access building. After all, you have only eight floors and fifteen tenants, most of whom are quite elderly.”

The Tudor was a historic building that overlooked the Common and Newbury Street. Security was tight but obviously not as foolproof as we had imagined. Among other amenities was a state-of-the-art security system that ran twenty-four-seven. With any luck, those videos just might corner the responsible party.

Deming snapped his fingers. “Come on, Dad. Let`s go check it out. Jorge must have that footage.”

“Wait a minute! Don`t leave us out.” I folded my arms and gave him my most menacing frown. “You`ll need us to identify suspects.”

“We`ll be right back,” Bolin said. “I promise.”

They vanished before I could say another word.

WE SPENT THE rest of the night scrutinizing eight hours of grainy video feed that was streamed onto our computers. By hour two, we were bleary-eyed and discouraged. As Anika had noted, most of our neighbors were elderly, infirm, or both. Each had a truly staggering retinue of nurses, physical therapists, personal trainers, and dog walkers, all of whom looked vaguely suspicious. Eventually images and times morphed into an indecipherable blur.

“These codgers are barely sentient,” Deming groused. “No one needs that much coddling, for Christ`s sake.”

Anika raised her eyes at her son. “Patience, Dem. Your dad and I will be there soon enough.” She and Bolin shared a secret smile at the thought.

“Hold on,” I cried. “Freeze the tape!” I pointed to old Mrs. Ames as she hobbled through the lobby followed by her driver and two nurses laden with packages. “She doesn`t have two nurses. I know that for a fact. She grumbled about the cost of paying just one of them last week. I doubt that she`d hire another.”

Deming tensed as he hunched over the computer scrutinizing the images. “You`re right. The second one—the woman in the trench coat—she`s walking behind them but not
with
them. Can`t get a good look at her face though. It`s almost as if she`s deliberately avoiding the camera.”

Anika and Bolin crowded in, abandoning, just this once, their exquisite manners.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is she someone we know, Eja?” Anika exchanged fist bumps with me. “Look at the way she walks. Like someone skipping.”

“Stop fooling around,” Deming growled, “or I`ll get Keegan to track her down.”

“Don`t bother,” I said. “We know just where to find her. That so-called nurse is none other than Nadia Pinsky.”

At first there was silence, more sobering than the burst of chatter that followed. Deming was the first to recover. “That . . . that girl from COWE defaced our door! I can`t believe it.”

“Believe it,” I said. “And don`t forget her other role. Nadia is a receptionist for Fess Paskert and a close friend of Gabriel’s. She was very much in the mix the day that Sonia died.”

Anika coughed, a refined, ladylike sound that was more of a punctuation mark. “Maybe she was acting for someone else. She had insider knowledge of this building it seems.”

Only one name came to mind—Gabriel Mann. Still, that made no sense. Both Melanie and Gabriel had asked for our help. Pleaded for it. Why try to intimidate us at this point?

Deming’s grim face reminded me of a thundercloud—a darkly handsome thundercloud to be sure—but one that portended trouble for someone.

“Stop evading the issue,” he huffed. “Gabriel Mann is mixed up in this, and we all know it. That slimy coward doesn`t even have the guts to do it himself. He uses a woman.”

Bolin put his hand on Deming’s shoulder. “That`s just it, Son. We have suspicions but no proof. Let Lieutenant Keegan speak with Ms. Pinsky before we get involved.”

“I intend to file charges against her,” Deming said. “Malicious mischief, destruction of property, unauthorized access . . .”

“Leverage,” Bolin said. “The threat alone might get her to talk. Take the long view of this situation. You know what Sun Tzu said about tactics without strategy.”

Deming brightened as he recalled the phrase. “I know. I get it. Something about the noise before defeat. Straight from
The Art of War
.”

Sun Tzu had always been required reading in the Swann household. During my undergraduate days at Brown, I also became a fan of this ancient wise man and his approach to winning. It helped me to survive Gabriel’s mind games and incorporate a few moves of my own into the mix.

“There`s something else to consider,” I said. “Maybe her motive was something different. Nadia might not have been trying to frighten us at all.”

Deming folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Really? You certainly acted frightened enough. Next you`ll say that Gabriel wasn`t involved.”

Same old song, different verse. Deming’s tedious obsession with Gabriel annoyed me. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and maintain marital harmony.

“What was your point, Eja?” Trust Anika to intervene at just the right time.