Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) (30 page)

“Well, let me tell you why we think it’s entirely possible.” John reiterated all the conclusions we had come to back in the car and not hesitating for one moment to let Tom know Inspector Willix was on his way.

“It seems both of you suffer from reading too many mysteries.”

“I don’t read mysteries, Tom. But I’ve been told I’m pretty good at solving them. Though we have Alex to thank for this.” John turned to me. “Actually, we have Martine. She identified you right from the start.”

“Yes, she didn’t always use the best judgment. She also had a pushy side, and they say we Americans are pushy. Well, it seems I’ve been caught, doesn’t it?”

He actually smiled and my stomach churned.

“You mean we’re right? You did kill Martine?” I couldn’t believe the man confessed so easily. I also realized for the first time John and I were alone in a church with a killer. Gerard had better hurry up.

“Well, I didn’t have a choice, did I?” he said matter-of-factly. “She threatened to ruin everything. Everything. I begged her to get an abortion. Said I would even pay for it. They do them here, you know. No fuss and bother like in the States where you have a pro lifer guarding the door of every clinic.”

“That’s an odd thing for a man of God to be saying,” John said. “But then ‘man of God’ is a bit of a misnomer for you, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps.” A smug look spread across his face. “I suppose I was more of a
desperate
man of God, let’s not forget. I couldn’t let the little tramp ruin everything I’ve worked for all these years. Have you any idea how long I’ve waited for this position to open up in California? Do you? Forever. I was passed over years ago. They said I needed more experience. I went out and got it. Came here, fixed this place up. Implemented several sorely needed programs. I’ve earned it. The job was mine.
Is
mine.”

“But a little thing like a pregnancy with a woman other than your wife, would throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing wouldn’t it?” I asked.

“Exactly. Martine hoped she could convince Paul to have a little operation of his own. Then if she could convince him the baby was his, well…” Tom turned his palms out in gesture. “It was a stretch but worth a try, I suppose. When Paul absolutely refused, she came back to me. She actually expected I would marry her.” Tom laughed a hearty laugh.

I felt a tiny bit of air cross my legs and wondered if the police had arrived. Or somebody else who could help us.

“Paul never abused her, did he?” I asked, my voice louder hoping to cover the sound of the approaching police. “And you were never counseling her.”

“No to both. But you have to admit it was a good cover, no, in case anyone ever saw us together. We did meet often, but counseling was never our intention.”

“Why did you kill her at the cookout? You must have known just being there would cast suspicion on you?” John asked.

“Well, it didn’t, did it?” He stared hard at John, whose cheeks reddened, with anger or embarrassment. Maybe a bit of both. “You never suspected me until your wife, here, came up with a few ideas of her own. Very astute of you, Alex,” he said turning toward me. He narrowed his eyes into tiny little menacing slits with just a bit of blue showing through. And to think I had been taken in by his sermon just a week ago. Give me boring Father Frank in Indian Cove any day. Tom looked at John. “As for killing her at Wanda’s, look at all the other suspects that bit of inspiration yielded. And in cases such as this, the first to be suspected is always the husband. I just made sure the investigation would keep in his direction with the accusation of abuse.”

“But she had bruises on her body and face. You hit her, didn’t you?” I asked not waiting for an answer. “You’re pathetic. And sick.”

Tom flashed blazing eyes at me and sat up, the chair bouncing back hard and hitting him in the back. “I should have killed you when I had a chance.”

“When you had a—My God! It was you! You followed my sister and me when we left here. It was you who tried to run me down. And you came into our apartment, too. Didn’t you?”

“Luck was on your side. Or maybe God was watching over you. If the damned elevator hadn’t gotten stuck. You should make sure you push the door tightly closed. People wishing you harm might happen to wander in.”

“And were you following us the other day, too?”

“Yes. Your sister has quite a little temper. She angered that man so much he followed you himself for a while. A bit of luck for me. I was several cars back. You never noticed me because he followed you, too.”

“You’re disgusting!”

“And you’ve been quite the little busybody. Going over to help Wanda, visiting Paul. Attending Doug’s funeral. When all you ever wanted to do was snoop.”

If anyone had entered the church, I hoped they would make their presence known soon. Tom Mulberry was losing it, and fast.

“I think this little discussion is over.” He rose from his chair.

John took my arm, pulling me close. He looked at Tom. “Don’t try anything, Tom. You’ll only make it worse. The police should be here any minute.”

“And how many times have I heard that line in those old movies they play late at night? Even if you’re telling the truth, we should have just about enough time to get out of here.”

My pulse raced. I looked up at my husband with pleading eyes. “John,” I whispered.

He whispered back in my ear. “He can’t strangle us both at the same time and he doesn’t seem to have a weapon handy.”

This last point calmed me down. If he had a gun he probably would have shown it to us by now. And so far he hadn’t produced any floss or rope. Besides, I told myself, he may be well fit, but John was younger and stronger. And I could kick and pull hair with the best of them.

“Okay, let’s get going,” Tom ordered, clearly indicating the question and answer period was over.

“I don’t think so, Tom,” John said. “Let’s just wait for the police to arrive and we’ll get this all settled. Sit back down and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Jobeth Mulberry appeared in the doorway. Damn! It wasn’t the police after all.

“You just can’t keep your zipper closed, can you, Tom? Don’t bother denying it, I heard everything. I knew you were having another fling. I just didn’t know with whom.”

“Shut up, Jobeth!” Tom yelled.

“You’ve ruined everything. We’ve worked so hard all these years in these godforsaken backwater towns, and now this. For what? For what!” she shrieked. Jobeth had thrown an old sweat suit on but her bleached hair still hung limp around her face. There was a huge welt on her right cheek she hadn’t bothered to conceal. She walked over to Tom and spit in his face. “You sanctimonious bastard!”

Tom drew his right arm across his body and backhanded his wife. Not a very Christian thing to do.

Jobeth flew backward, catching herself on the side of the desk before she could fall. I jumped up and rushed to her.

“I hope you rot in hell for this!” Jobeth yelled. She clutched her cheek with one hand and held onto me with the other. “I hope you rot in hell!”

John walked to the chair in which Tom now sat and pulled him out of it with one hand, putting his face right up against Tom’s. “What are you going to do now, Tom?” John asked. “You can’t fight all three of us. You can’t get away.”

Tom tried to pull away. John let him go, pushing him back into the chair with such force he almost toppled over. As John turned to come back to my side, Tom picked up a lethal-looking letter opener and started for the door.

“Damn you! Damn all of you.” He bolted out the door to the front entrance of the church. The double doors swung opened and Gerard stood there surrounded by three uniformed officers.

“Going somewhere, Monsieur Mulberry?”

Chapter 51

“I have always wanted to yell, ‘Freeze! Stop or I’ll shoot!’ just like they do in the movies,” Gerard smiled, “but when the weapon is a letter opener, well,” he shrugged, “it would be stupid, no?”

I laughed. “Maybe, but it would have been funny, too.”

“What
was
stupid,” John insisted, not for the first time, “was you going into the church alone.”

“Yeah, what on earth ever possessed you, Alex?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. It was a dangerous thing to do, but I wasn’t thinking. And John was just outside, not too far away. Plus, I suppose somewhere deep down inside, I thought with Tom being a minister and all, I must be mistaken about him being a killer. I never thought he would actually confess.”

“This has certainly been some vacation,” Bret Smith said as we all sat around a table at the Vietnamese restaurant where we had eaten when we first arrived.

“Well, it certainly has been,” John agreed.

“When exactly did Tom find the time to kill Martine with all of us around?” Sam asked as the waiter placed her selection in front of her.

“He must have seen Martine go into the house,” I guessed.

“I think he did. Right before we all quit the game, he stopped to go get a cold drink. Of course, I never paid any attention,” John said.

“But his fingerprints weren’t on anything in the powder room. How did he manage that one?” Michael asked around a forkful of lemon chicken.

“I think I can answer.” It was Gerard who now spoke. “He used Wanda’s kitchen gloves.”

“Oh my gosh! Of course. Wanda said something about not being able to find them. But what did he do with them after he killed Martine?”

“Well, Alex, he threw them into the barbecue. Along with the floss. Of course it wouldn’t have mattered much if he had tucked everything into his pocket as we did not search anyone that evening,” Gerard said with some reluctance.

“Remember the terrible smell,” Sam said. “Wanda mentioned it, but then Paul came running out saying his wife was dead and we all forgot about it.”

“Did he plan on killing Martine all along?” Bret asked.

“I believe so, yes. Not necessarily at that particular time, but the opportunity presented itself,” Gerard said. “At some point while he was using the toilet, he looked into the medicine cabinet and saw the floss. He thought the floss would make an ideal murder weapon. He also thought it very humorous, especially with a dentist present.” Gerard looked at Michael. “Perhaps he thought this a weapon of choice for a doctor. In addition to being a murderer, I think he might be a bit crazy, no?”

“You know,” I began, “The day he gave us a tour of his church, we came across this book. The teenagers of the church write some sort of vow of abstinence in it. Tom seemed very proud of the high moral values he was teaching.”

“Well, this is definitely a case of not practicing what you preach,” John said eyeing me.

“He was a very effective speaker. I wouldn’t have minded hearing him again. Jeez. What am I saying? The man is a killer.”

“Don’t feel so bad, honey,” John touched my hand across the table. “He fooled a lot of people.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if both Tom and Bill were put in the same cell?” Sam said. Michael stared at his wife. “Okay, maybe it wouldn’t.”

“A lot of lives have been ruined. Wanda, her children, Jobeth, Paul, Donna.” I shook my head. “They’ll all have to go on—start over. Someplace else.”

A little while later we walked back to the apartment.

“Gerard, would you mind coming up and ordering us two taxis for tomorrow? I don’t trust my French to get it right and I don’t want to miss our flight.”

“I can do that for you, John,” Bret offered.

“No need. I will be here first thing in the morning to take you all to the airport,” Gerard said.

John put his arm around Gerard’s shoulder. “I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I’ve seen your car, Gerard. As a matter of fact, I’ve been in it. It won’t hold four other people let alone the luggage of a couple of very prolific shoppers.” He looked at Sam and she stuck out her tongue.

“Do not worry! I have everything under control.”

Chapter 52

The next morning we were up at the crack of dawn. We had set two alarms, but found they weren’t necessary—no one slept very well.

Bret Smith had slept on the couch, which opened into a comfortable bed. By the time we came down the stairs, he had a pot of coffee brewing and some fruit cut. “You might not have time for something to eat. The check-in can be horrendous this time of year.”

Sam threw dirty sheets and towels into the washer but Bret told her he would handle it later. The men carried the suitcases down the stairs, not wanting to risk the luggage getting stuck in the elevator. Michael suggested throwing Sam’s bags over the banister but was punched in the arm by his wife.

We went outside to wait for Gerard. Sam took pictures of the group in front of the apartment and asked an old man walking his dog to snap a picture so she could be in one. Well, she didn’t exactly ask, but he got the general idea when she pushed her camera into his hands.

“Bret, thank you so much for the use of the apartment.” I put my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet your wife but I hope she likes the gift we left.”

“Anything wrapped, she’ll like,” Bret teased.

Just then a horn tooted and we all turned to look at the street. John was the first to laugh. Gerard pulled up in a white police van.

Gerard got out and walked to where we all stood on the sidewalk. “This way, if we come upon any obstructions, I will just turn on the siren.” He looked at the woman who had come to stand next to him. “This is my Annie.”

We all introduced ourselves, kissing each other on one cheek, then the other, and then back to the first cheek again as was the custom in Belgium.

“We’ve heard so much about you, Annie,” I gushed. “How nice to actually meet you.”

“Gerard has told me all about you. I feel so bad your holiday was ruined with this murder.”

“Nonsense! We had a marvelous time,” Michael said.

While the men loaded the bags in the back of the van, Annie took two small packages from the van. “A little something to always remember us by.” She handed one each to Sam and me. “I’m afraid they will not be very practical for you, but I thought you would like it.”