MASS MURDER (35 page)

“May I offer you a beer?”

Giorgio shook his head.
“No, thank you.
I just need a few minutes.
I’m surprised I caught you.”

“I work at home,” he gestured to the dining room where a computer was set up on a small dining room table. The entire table was filled with books and dirty dishes.
There was only one chair.
Apparen
tly Mr. Marsh didn’t entertain.

“Please, have a seat.
What can I do for you?”

Marsh sat on the frayed, green sofa, extending bare feet housed in open leather sandals. Giorgio sat across
from him
in a rickety swivel chair.
He found himself staring at Marsh’s feet with their long toes and toenails.
It was a moment before he realized Marsh had spoken.

“Did you find the killer?” Marsh continued.

“Not yet.
We have a long way to go.”

Giorgio’s eyes came to rest on an ashtray sitting on the coffee table.
It was overflowing and he tried to see what brand of cigarette Marsh smoked.

“Well, how can I help?”

It was clear Marsh felt edgy by Giorgio’s unannounced visit.
He sat forward on the sofa, his forearms resting on his knees, his right leg bouncing up and down in a nervous rhythm.

“I was told you were seen arguing with Ms. Olsen just before dinner that night.”

Marsh shifted in his seat, drawing his feet close to the base of the sofa.

“I believe I had some words with her.
I’m not sure I would characterize it as an argument.”

“W
hat was
it was about?”
The chair Giorgio had selected had a lumpy cushion that made him feel like he was sitting over the edge of a bucket.
He shifted in his seat to find a more comfortable spot.

“She wanted to sit at a front table at the banquet
. But
the front tables were reserved for the conference committee and a few of the more well-known agents.”
Marsh folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to appear relaxed, but it wasn’t working.
“I was called to settle the dispute by Ms. Chase,” he said.
“We stepped aside so I wouldn’t embarrass her, but Ms. Olsen wouldn’t listen to reason.
She argued that she was as important as any of the other agents and deserved to sit at the front of the room.”

“How did the discussion end?”

He hesitated as he ran his tongue across his teeth.
“She said something rude and walked away.”

“Mr. Marsh, are you an aspiring author like the rest of your members?”

“I write science fiction.
I have four novels completed.”

“Any of them ever published?”

“I’m not sure where you’
re going with this, Detective.”

H
e
beg
a
n to wriggle his toes
nervously
, making them
look like long worms poking their heads out of a can.

“It’s a simple question.
I’d just like to know if any of your work has ever been published.”

“No.”

“Do you have a literary agent?”

He sat forward with an angry expression.
“Why are you asking me these questions?
I had nothing to do with Mallery Olsen’s death!”

“I like to know who I’m dealing with.
Do you have an agent?” Giorgio remained calm, looking directly into Marsh’s eyes.

“No,” he said with exasperation.
“I’ve
received
some very nice comments about my work, but so far the timing has been off.”

“Did you ever submit anything to Ms. Olsen?”

“I told you, I didn’t know her.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Marsh paused, chewing his lip.
“I sent her a query letter back in August.”
Marsh paused again, sorting out how to continue.
“She asked for the first fifty pages of my novel.”

“What happened?”

As the color drained from his cheeks, he began to wring his hands.
“She rejected it, but I wasn’t lying to you.
I had never met her before she came to this conference.”

“Did you confront her about the rejection?”

“Why should I?
A writer gets used to rejection.
It comes with the territory.”

Giorgio pulled a sheet of paper from his
pocket and handed it to Marsh.

“Because, it seems she wasn’t very kind.”

Marsh glanced at the document and blanched.
“I see you’ve done your homework, Detective.”

“It’s what I get paid for.
Are all agents so blunt?”

“She was particularly cruel.
I don’t know why.”

“Cruel enough for retaliation?”

Marsh looked up in surprise.
“Of course not.
I’m not that small
.
”
His
lip twitched. “I consider the source.
Many agents are themselves frustrated writers.”

“And you didn’t let this enter into the argument you had with her Saturday night?”

“I doubt she even knew who I was.”

“But she would have known your name.”

“These agents read material from hundreds of writers every year.
They don’t remember names.
Especially those they’ve rejected.”
He tossed the paper back to Giorgio.
“I don’t think she even suspected who I was.”

“Why did you lie about knowing her?”

“I didn’t want to be connected to her.
Do you blame me?
Besides, there were probably several other writers at the conference who had been rejected by her.”

“We’ll check into that.”
Giorgio glanced at the ashtray.
“What kind of cigarettes do you smoke?”

The question caught Marsh off guard. “What?”

“Cigarettes.
What kind?”

Marsh looked confused.
“Lucky Strike.
Why?”

“What can you tell me about Jeff
Dorman
?”

“Who?”

“He w
as a guest at the conference.”

Marsh looked truly lost. “I don’t think I met him. Why? Did he have something to do with Ms. Olsen?”

Giorgio stood to leave.
“I wouldn’t leave town, Mr. Marsh
.”

“I assure you, Detective, I didn’t kill that woman.”

“Then it’s probably in your best interests to be completely honest from now on.”

Giorgio moved toward the door an
d Marsh followed.

“Oh,” Giorgio said, stopping short.
“One more thing.
You left during the dinner.
Why is that?”

Marsh’s eyes grew wide and he stuttered, “I
…
needed to use the restroom.”

“Is that all?”

The poor man had begun to sweat
,
and his jaw moved as if it had just been oiled.
Finally, he answered.

“I had to make a phone call.”

Giorgio thought his mann
er unconvincing and asked, “Who
did you call?”

“My brother in Los Angeles.”

His eyes shifted
,
and Giorgio decided to call his bluff.

“Well, that’s easily checked.”
Giorgio turned ag
ain to leave.

“No,” Marsh choked out.
“He wasn’t home.
I couldn’t get through.”
He sounded almost relieved.

Giorgio stared back at him.
The man seemed to have trouble breathing.
Finally he forced out, “I took a walk.
Just to get some fresh air.”

Giorgio’s antenna went up.
“
Where did you go?”

“I walked out front, out to the fountain.”

“
Did anyone see you?”

“
No
.
I was upset.
It hadn’t been such a good day.
I struck out with two agents that afternoon.
After the exchange with Ms. Olsen, I just needed some fresh air.
Even if she didn’t remember me, I remembered that rejection letter.
I was determined not to let it interfere with the conference, but I needed to talk myself down.
I did
not
kill her though.”

“Lying during an investigation is a serious offense.
I’d be more careful.”

Giorgio left Marsh looking even more disheveled than when he arrived.
Giorgio would be surprised if Marsh was the killer, but there was no reason to take him off the list
,
yet.
He may be an unlikely suspect, but Giorgio knew from experience to never make assumptions.

Chapter Twenty-
Four

After leaving Marsh,
Giorgio
returned to the monastery.
Rocky’s truck was parked out front along with one of the squad cars.
Giorgio assumed they were still conducting interviews
,
so he went directly to the tool shed thinking perhaps
Dorman’s
killer might have placed the flashlight there in an attempt to hide it in plain sight.
The sun had finally emerged
, causing s
team
to rise
off the corn rows like something out of a Stephen King movie.

Giorgio nodded to the officer still standing guard and then moved to the dilapidated old building.
The shed door creaked open exposing a flurry of dust mites.
Giorgio
stepped inside and
shoved things aside
,
moved buckets off shelves
,
and poked
behind everything on the floor
. B
ut
no flashlight.

He
made a cursory search of the
area around the makeshift grave
,
the corn stalks
,
and the surrounding woods.
D
iscouraged and sweating,
he
finally
called Grosvner back from where he
’d
chased a squirrel up a tree
and
descended the path
. He
turned
toward
the kitchen when he heard his name called.
Rocky emerged from the backside of the building
.
Giorgio doubled back to me
et him near the statue of Mary.