Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) (25 page)

“I wonder what Doug was doing at the office so late?” I mused, knowing by time, even if the light was on, Doug was most probably dead.

“It’s not unusual. Bill works late a lot of the time. They both spend so much time on the phone all day they like working late when it’s quiet and the phones don’t ring.”

“I’d imagine you’ve had to go into town on more than one occasion and drag Bill home from a late night.”

“No. I’ve called a few times and told him to get home or he might as well spend the night there, but I’ve never driven in to town to get him.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be more practical to just call. But if you did have to go in for some reason, could you get into the building so late at night or is there a doorman or something?”

“No. There’s no doorman. I’d have to knock pretty hard or use the extra key.”

“Oh. You have a key to Bill’s office,” I said smiling broadly at Sam.

“No, I don’t carry one, but we have an extra key here in the house somewhere. Though, I’m not sure exactly where it is. What
exactly
are you getting at, Alex?” Wanda asked, while I realized I may have gone too far.

“Nothing. Really. It’s just Donna had a key. That’s how she found Doug, by using it to get into the building when he didn’t come home. I was just curious if you had one as well.”

“You don’t suspect Donna of killing her own husband, do you? She was terrified when she found him.”

“Well, it has happened. Most people are killed by someone they know. And Brussels seems like a peaceful place. Not a lot of random killing according to Gerard.”

“Gerard?”

“Inspector Willix.”

“Yes. It is peaceful. And safe. Or at least I thought it was until recently. But I can assure you Donna didn’t kill her husband.”

“That may be so, Wanda, but she knew about his affair with Martine. She still harbored lots of anger, and both of them are now dead. Can you think of any other explanation for both of them being killed? It’s just too much of a coincidence to think both their deaths had nothing to do with each other.”

There was a pause. I could hear Wanda’s breathing coming over the phone. “I admit it’s a coincidence, but I can’t believe Donna killed them. I know her, you don’t. So there must be some other reason.”

“Yes, but what?” I asked.

“I’m sure I have no clue. Your friend Gerard might be able to help you with that,” Wanda said snidely.

“Surely you must have given it some thought the last few days,” I said then ignoring the comment.

“No. No, I haven’t. I’ve been very busy helping a friend through a crisis, and I’ve got my own worries to think about,” Wanda said, once again sounding angry. “I’m confident the police will get to the bottom of this and it’ll all be cleared up shortly.”

“Does Jane come over to visit often?”

“What?” Wanda asked, sounding befuddled by the abrupt change I had made in the conversation.

“Jane. Does she come to visit you often?”

“No. Not much at all. She did when we first met, but not much any more. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. I saw her today at the service and I just wondered if you were all close?”

“No. We’re not.”

I said my goodbyes before my luck ran out, told Wanda to give a call if she needed anything, and hung up.

“That was useless,” I said to Sam who sat reading a
Hello
magazine, the English equivalent of
People
and a very poor imitation in my opinion, thought it didn’t stop me from reading every issue since we arrived.

“But she has a key, doesn’t she?”

“Yes. Though she isn’t sure where it is. She said she went into town the night Doug was killed. Wanda not Donna. She had dinner with a friend. Too much of a coincidence for me.”

“She had a key. She was there. Seems as if you caught your killer, Madam Maigret.”

“I don’t know.” I stood and walked to the large window looking out over the Avenue Franklin Roosevelt. Franklin Roosevelt. Winston Churchill. I stared out at the traffic going by, the large expanse of green separating the traffic flow; the beautiful homes with their masterly crafted brick workmanship and manicured lawns. My honeymoon was almost at an end and I felt like I hadn’t seen enough yet. I wondered if I would ever get back to Belgium and hoped I would. The last couple of weeks had gone by too quickly and I fleetingly wondered if Gerard would give John a job so we could become expats with large homes and too much free time. “You know what we should have done today?” I said, still looking out the window at the beautiful street. “We should have gone to the Ardennes. Battle of the Bulge. What was I thinking?”

“What were you thinking?” Sam walked to my side. “You were thinking about murder. Two, actually.”

“She volunteered the fact she was in town and parked her car by the office. If she killed Doug, why would she admit that?” I turned to look Sam in the eye.

“Maybe because she got a parking ticket and knows it can be traced so she made up a story about being in town. Did she say who the friend was she went to meet?”

“No. Just a friend. They had dinner. Walked around. Stopped in a café just like we’ve been doing. And no one in this country gets a parking ticket. Look at all the people illegally parked.” We looked out the window and saw at least two cars that should have been ticketed. “Have you seen any tickets on any windshields?”

“No. Male or female?” Sam asked.

“Huh?”

“Who’d she have dinner with? Male or female?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

“Maybe it was Donna. And they both killed Doug.” Sam went back to the sofa and picked up the magazine and started flicking through the pages again. “Or maybe Wanda has a boyfriend. Doug found out. So she killed him.”

“Then why kill Martine?”

“They both knew?”

“Sam. She was probably just having dinner with a girlfriend.” I had too many theories bumping around in my head.

“Probably. But we’ll never know now.”

Chapter 37

“
Bonsoir. Je voudrais
.... Somebody, what’s the word for order?” I asked. I covered the phone with my hand waiting for John or Sam to help me. Trying to speak French with someone face to face was one thing, but ordering pizzas for dinner over the phone was quite another. We had found a number for a delivery service by the phone and as everyone was much too tired to go out, thought we’d give it a try.

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged and mouthed the word
sorry
to me.

“I think it’s
commander
,” Michael said.

“Hello, are you still there?
Je voudrais commander deux pizzas
.”

The person on the other end asked, “
Quelle taille
?”

“What size do we want?” I asked, finally understanding something.

“I guess two large should be fine,” John said.

“Great! How do you say large in French?” I asked covering the phone again.

“
Grand
,” Michael shouted as his wife beamed.

“How do you know all this?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been picking up quite a bit from the students. I’m a bit impressed with myself, I must admit.” Michael smiled.

“
Deux grand
,” I shouted into the phone.

“
Ah! Deux large
,
Madam
,” the voice answered from the other end.

“
Oui. Une avec champagne, et une avec pepperoni
,” I said to the probably very frustrated person on the other end.

“No! Alex, I think that’s the word for champagne. Mushrooms is
champignons
,” Michael called to me.

“
Excusez moi, avec champignons, s’il vous plait
.” I hung up after giving the address and told the others the pizzas would be delivered in about four hours as close as I could understand.

“He probably said
un quart d’heure
, which means in a quarter of an hour,” Michael said showing off again. “You understood it as
en quatre heures
.”

Once our pizzas had arrived, a little different than what I thought I had ordered, both having mushrooms and neither having pepperoni, Sam and I told John all we had heard during the day. To my surprise, John admitted Inspector Willix had already thought of the theory that the two murders had more to do with a financial mess at the office than a sexual affair. I felt certain poor Mr. Lipnicki would be getting a visit from Gerard very soon.

“But then who at the party would want to kill Martine over something financial. Maybe the accountant or an insurance broker? There didn’t seem to be too many people there Saturday who would be affected by a bad business deal,” I said. “Except for Wanda. She’s looking better and better as the culprit in my opinion.”

“We don’t really know that, Alex,” Sam began. “Maybe lots of people at the party had investments with Bill in addition to working with him. Maybe not the same deal as Mr. Lipnicki, but something else.”

“You may be on to something, Sam. We don’t have any idea if the party guest were also investors,” John suggested. “It might be something Gerard should also look into.”

“I don’t understand how this investment, this pooling investment, would cause problems,” I said, reaching for another slice of pizza and dripping hot cheese on the table.

“Well, for one thing, who’s declaring the interest income on their taxes?” Michael asked, “Anyone? Sounds like a bit of tax evasion to me.”

“And for another,” John said, “let’s say Bill has promised a return of eight percent, maybe higher and he doesn’t get it, then he’s got to come up with the difference out of his own pocket.”

“John, do you think that’s what’s happened?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about high finance. I do know Bill was talking at the cookout about offshore investments and dummy companies. Whether these things have anything to do with the trouble he’s in, and he obviously is in a lot of trouble, I haven’t a clue.”

“So do you think we’ve been looking at the motives for the murders in the wrong way?” Sam asked. “Maybe the murders are related to finance.”

“That would certainly put Wanda near the top of suspects. If she knew what her husband was up to, didn’t care, just liked all the perks, and then found out, maybe through Donna, that Doug was on to things, and so was Martine, well….”

“Could be, Alex,” Michael said, “but Martine was pregnant. Is that just an aside or is it relevant?”

“True. But that doesn’t mean she was murdered for that reason,” John said. “We know the baby wasn’t Paul’s, but what we don’t know is if the real father knew she was pregnant.”

“I never thought of that,” I said over a mouthful of pizza with an overabundance of mushrooms. “And if no one knew she was pregnant before she died, then why would anyone kill her for it. And I am sure Paul didn’t know about Doug.”

“I agree. I was with Gerard yesterday when he went over to talk with Paul. He didn’t know about Doug. I’m sure of it. And if he didn’t know about Doug, I can’t find any reason why he would have killed his wife.”

“So who’s left?” Michael asked, “besides Wanda?”

“Could be Donna. Killing her husband and his lover. Could be Wanda not only for the financial aspect but maybe she suspected Bill and Martine having an affair. But then why would she kill Doug?” I asked. “Could be Jane but why would
she
kill Doug.” I thought of all the information we had gathered and all the suspects. I looked at it all in my mind from as many different angles as I could, and still couldn’t put my finger on a suspect who had killed both. Except for Wanda. It kept coming back to Wanda. And Donna. Geesh.

“Maybe Wanda killed Martine and Malcolm killed Doug,” Michael said.

“No. Malcolm wouldn’t kill Doug. He’d kill Paul,” Sam said to her husband. “We’ve got an awful lot of people killing Martine and not too many suspects for Doug. But he is dead,” John said to the group.

“Maybe Doug was killed by mistake. Maybe it was supposed to be Bill all along.”

“So, what are you saying, Alex? Wanda meant to kill her husband but didn’t recognize him and killed Doug instead? I think not.” Sam gave me a know-it-all look.

“I guess it doesn’t make sense unless Bill had a big insurance policy. But it still looks like Wanda had the best motive for killing both of them,” I asserted, and maybe Donna.”

“If the motive was financial, then my money’s on Wanda. Otherwise, I can see Donna killing both out of jealousy. Especially if she knew about the baby,” John said.

“And she’ll be leaving in a few days with her husband’s body,” Sam said.

“Hmmm,” I mused. “What a convenient way to get out of the country.”

Chapter 38

“I understand you were on duty last Thursday morning, is that correct?” Inspector Willix asked the young girl as John watched from the sidelines. The inspector was speaking in English. They were at the airport, where the language was Flemish, and Gerard had explained to John while his Flemish was good, he felt more comfortable in French or English.

“Yes. I work the early shift Monday through Friday.”

“And do you recognize this man?” Inspector Willix took out a picture of Bill Westlake. It was a small photo, not very good, that John had given Gerard from the cookout the day of Martine’s murder.

“Yes! I do. I’m not sure which day I saw him, but he was here in the last week. I am sure of this.”

“
Bon
!” Gerard said. “Please try to remember. Exactly when did you see him?”

“Well, I know it was morning. The first flight, I am sure of it. I do remember he was sweaty. He kept wiping his face. It was not very hot here that day. I had a sweater. Oh. I had a new sweater. It must have been Thursday morning.”

“And how have you come to this conclusion?” Gerard asked, looking totally mystified at her recollection process.

“Because the day before, the Wednesday, it was my birthday, you see. And my boyfriend, he gave me the sweater. And the next day, Friday, it was warm again, so I didn’t bring it. I remember because I really liked it and I wanted to wear it again but I knew with the sun shining on the windows it would get much too hot in the terminal.”