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Authors: Elaine Macko

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BOOK: Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery)
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“That must be it, together with the little song. We were just little children when he knew us in London. There was no way he could possibly recognize us, but, yes, if he saw the tattoos and heard me sing, and then in the last couple of months he started asking me about the pickles. He wanted to know exactly where I learned to make them like that. He was going to sell whatever he had, take the money and leave. The last little bit of what belonged to my family would be gone.”

Shirley shook her head. “Why didn’t you just report him to the police?’

“For what?” Norbert’s voice sounded angry. “For something he did in London many years ago? Something for which we had no proof? No.”

“While Carl cleaned up, I drove to the other side of the building the night of the supper and went in through the side door. Carl knew nothing of what Norbert and I had planned,” Astrid said. “I had put some drugs in Humphrey’s dinner. I took them out of the purse of one of the young woman who worked for us that night. She had hurt her back during a sporting event at school and the doctor gave them to her.”

It made sense. Astrid had told me Humphrey always complained about the size of his portion and that they gave him extra to keep him quiet. It would be very easy to know which plate was meant for him.

“We planned to have Norbert lure him to the back, but there he was coming out of the men’s room looking for his glasses,” she continued, “so we pushed him into the women’s room. We made sure he knew who we were and why he was about to die. I asked him what he did to Godfrey and he just smiled. Norbert held him while I gave him the pickle. I told him that because he liked them so much, he could have one for all eternity. I pinched his nose so he couldn’t breathe. He kept fighting, but Norbert held tight. I stared into his eyes and almost felt sorry for him, but then I remembered the kind eyes of my cousin and I didn’t care about Humphrey anymore.”

Astrid’s tears were streaming down her face. She was inconsolable, but I wasn’t sure if it was for her family or what she had done to Humphrey. I looked up and John and Jim Maroni, his partner, stood in the doorway.

They took Astrid and Norbert away, and Shirley and I closed up and walked back to her car.

“Are you going to be alright?”

I leaned against the car and sighed. “So much hate. Is it wrong that I understand why they did it?”

“No. But they still committed murder. They may not have been able to prove what Humphrey did to their cousin, but they could have brought the matter of the art to the authorities. It might have opened up some sort of investigation at least.”

Shirley dropped me off in front of my grandmother’s and I said good-bye and promised to call her for lunch soon.

Meme and Theresa and Francis stood on the front porch. A second later my sister and mother came out and stood next to them. I walked up the path and then we all went inside.

 

 

 

Chapter 75

 

 

I told them everything, about Astrid and Norbert and their family and cousin in London, while I warmed myself with a fluffy blanket and a cup of tea.

“What about Carl?” Meme asked.

“No. It was just Astrid and her brother. It was their vendetta. Carl has no idea what Astrid did.”

“That’s too bad about Norbert. He was a big hit with the ladies,” Meme said. “Maybe we can go up to the prison and take his picture in his jumpsuit and Sloth can Photoshop in some well-placed bulges.”

I rolled my eyes. How did my grandmother know about Photoshop, and I didn’t even want to guess what she meant by well-placed bulges.

“Maybe Cyril Mayfair can take over Norbert’s month,” I suggested and got my own eye roll from Meme.

“Damn Nazis,” my sister groaned. “What’s going to happen to all the stuff in the secret room?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It belonged to Humphrey, so I guess it now belongs to Sophie. Someone’s going to have a very difficult time sorting it all out.”

Meme’s phone rang, causing us all to jump. She went into the kitchen and a minute later handed me the phone.

“It’s John.”

I took the phone and listened to my husband. He was going to be late. He said Shirley had emailed him a copy of the voice recording she made and he was getting statements typed up. He would need one from me, and Shirley as well, but that could wait until morning.

It was a good night for him. He had Humphrey’s killers behind bars and he saved a family from becoming another casualty of a crazy man with a gun. The father, recently returned from the Middle East where he served in the military, had given himself up. My husband was a hero. I still didn’t know how he figured out Astrid and Norbert were the killers, but maybe he saw the tattoo and came to the same conclusion I had. We talked a bit longer, and then I put the phone down on the coffee table.

“Why are you smiling?” my mother asked.

“John got an email from Gerard and Annie Willix. The police detective we met in Belgium on our honeymoon,” I said to my mother’s blank stare. “They’re coming for a visit this summer.”

My grandmother clapped her hands together. “I can’t wait to meet them. They sound like a fun couple.”

“Then I guess you better get some rest in the next couple of months and clear your mind.”

I scrunched up my face and looked at my sister. “Why?”

“Because you remember what happened the last time we all got together. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be another murder.”

I glanced at my grandmother. She had a smile on her face, and then she gave me a wink.

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

Elaine Macko is a transplanted New Englander living in California. From a very young age, she possessed an over-active imagination finding intrigue and mayhem in everyday situations, often with hilarious results.

In the 1980s bored with life in general, Elaine signed up for a six-day vacation to London and Brussels in the dead of winter, and found time to meet and fall in love with a local Belgian man and extended her trip to last 12 years. While living abroad Elaine became a board member of a charitable organization and taught Mexican cooking classes to the expatriate community. With a love of writing always lingering on the back burner, Elaine decided to try her hand writing a mystery and after several months, completed a draft of her first book,
Armed
, and moved on to three other books in the series.

Elaine never forgot her New England roots and centers her books in the fictional town of Indian Cove, Connecticut. Each book includes a European connection bringing together her love of both places.

An active member of Sisters in Crime, Elaine takes comfort in knowing that there are many others like her out there spending all their free time trying to come up with inventive ways to kill people.

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BOOK: Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery)
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