Death by Killer Mop Doll (An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery) (23 page)

“Yes, she was worried that the police would seize the tapes as evidence in the murder, and she didn’t want them questioning why she and Hailes had entered the building after hours that weekend.”

“Can I assume Sheri hacked into Vince’s and Monica’s computers to plant that incriminating e-mail that Vince claimed he never wrote?”

“She did. That’s how she learned Alto was blackmailing Monica Rivers. Alto kept a detailed journal on his computer, along with a spreadsheet of Rivers’s payments to him.”

“How did Alto find out Rivers is a junkie?” asked Zack.

“He caught her in the act. She’d been jonesing for a hit so badly one day on the set that she forgot to lock her dressing room door. He walked in on her shooting up.”

Talk about being trapped between a rock and a hard place! Monica not only had to turn tricks to support her drug habit but to keep Vince quiet. “So when Sheri discovered the blackmail and the porn, she came up with a way to get rid of both of them without having to pay out their contracts.”

Patricia nodded, then downed the remains of her punch before continuing. “Rabbstein confessed to being the anonymous source who phoned in the tip that led us to the Kips Bay brothel.”

“But why try to kill Vince?” I asked. “That’s one piece that doesn’t make any sense to me. She’d already set everything in motion to get rid of him.”

“Panic,” said Patricia. “When Alto was released on bail, Rabb-stein told Hailes she was afraid Alto’s lawyers would find some way
to get him off. She worried she’d not only have to take him back on the show but that he’d turn around and sue everyone connected
with the show. Rabbstein and Hailes were too close to getting what they wanted. A lawsuit might force Trimedia to cancel the show. Hailes took matters into her own hands.”

“So Sheri killed Lou, and Maxine tried to kill Vince.”

“Killed, not tried to,” said Patricia. “Vince died late last night.”

No one said anything for what seemed like an eternity. I stared into my drink, Zack sipped his, and Patricia twirled the bowl of her snifter between her palms. I suppose I should feel sorry for Vince, but I couldn’t work up an iota of sympathy toward him.

“Good riddance,” Zack said, finally breaking the silence. I nodded in agreement. I’m sure we’d all been thinking a variation of the same thing: With kiddie porn all over his computer, how could anyone know for certain that Vince’s perversion had been confined to jacking off in front of computer images? The world was better off with one less pervert.

“I still don’t understand why Sheri and Maxine tried to frame me for everything by planting the mop dolls at the scene of each crime.”

“I wish I knew,” said Patricia. “I was looking forward to questioning both of them. I was also looking forward to trying them in court.” Her eyes sparked with excitement for a moment. “What a case that would have been!”

Then she sighed, and the spark disappeared. “Now I’ll never have the chance. Although, dying the way they did, Rabbstein and Hailes definitely saved the taxpayers of New York a pile of cash.”

“I think I know why Sheri singled you out,” Zack said to me.

Patricia and I both turned to him. “Why?” I asked.

“You were a surrogate for Flora,” he said. “Sheri couldn’t lay the blame on the one person she wanted to hurt the most, so she picked you as the next best thing.”

“By casting the blame on me, she did hurt Mama.”

“In the only way she could short of doing her physical harm,” said Patricia. “Good one, Zack.”

“I do have my moments,” he said.

They exchanged a look that I couldn’t interpret and wasn’t sure I wanted to.

“What about the note I found in Lou’s apartment?” I asked. “Who sent that?”

Patricia waved away the question. “Totally irrelevant to the case. One of Beaumont’s ex-wives harassed him periodically because he owed her quite a bit in alimony.”

“Francine? I met her at Lou’s funeral.”

“That’s the one.” Patricia stood up. “Time for me to catch a train. The little darlings will be wondering where I am.”

“Little darlings?” I asked.

She pulled an iPhone from her jacket pocket, pressed the button, and held the phone up. An image of two blond toddlers in matching lace pinafores filled the screen. “Mia and Chloe. I thought I was born lacking any maternal genes,” she said. “Turns out they were only lying dormant for four decades.”

She planted another overly friendly kiss on Zack’s lips. “I’ll tell the girls their Uncle Zacky sends them hugs and kisses.”

“Always,” said Zack.

“You should bring Anastasia with you the next time you drive up for a visit,” she added.

Patricia then did something totally unexpected, at least as far as I was concerned. She wrapped her arms around me as if we were the best of friends and whispered in my ear, “You go, girl!”

I was far too stunned to do anything but smile as she headed toward the exit. “Well,” I said finally. “So that’s your ex-wife.”

“That’s my ex-wife.”

My phone rang at that moment. I checked the display. “The hospital,” I said, flipping the phone open. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Pollack?”

“Yes?”

“Dr. Pavlochek wanted you to know that your mother-in-law has stabilized. He’s scheduled her brain surgery for eight o’clock Monday morning.”

The End

About the Author

Lois Winston straddles two worlds. She’s an award-winning author
published in mystery, romantic suspense, humorous women’s fiction, and non-fiction.

She’s also an award-winning designer of needlework and crafts projects for magazines, craft book publishers, and manufacturers. Like Anastasia, Lois worked for several years as a crafts editor. A graduate of the Tyler School of Art, she often draws on her art and design background for much of the source material in her fiction. She and her husband live a stone’s throw from Manhattan (assuming you can throw a stone across the Hudson).

Lois loves to hear from readers. Visit her at www.loiswinston
.com, and check out Anastasia’s Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog at www.anastasiapollack.blogspot.com.

Author photo by Robert Winston