Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4) (15 page)

“I`ll see what I can do,” he grunted. “No promises though.”

“Oh, Mr. Swann,” I said, very much the coquette, “I always keep my promises, don`t you?”

He bent down, fastened the top button of my coat, and pulled me close. “Check back with me tonight. I think I can meet your needs.”

“You haven`t disappointed me yet.”

Suddenly the elevator doors opened, treating my waiting neighbors to an unanticipated show.

Chapter Seventeen

I CLUTCHED DEMING’S hand as we walked the two blocks to the Athenaeum. Both of us focused on our mission, reluctant to spoil the mood with small talk. For once, Deming had rebuffed my overtures with a series of grunts that spoke more loudly than words. I cleansed my mind of sensual distractions and formulated a plan of attack. Gabriel probably didn`t expect us, and that element of surprise would prove useful. For once in his life of facile lies and misdirection, Gabriel Mann would bow to truth or face the consequences.

As we approached the stately building, lights from the chandeliers twinkled a welcome. The Athenaeum is a national treasure, a repository for culture and tradition that had served Boston for two hundred years. I adored the place. During the difficult early years, I had often taken refuge in its reading rooms, soaking up inspiration, hoping for miracles. As a struggling would-be author, I had scraped together the yearly membership fee, confident that joining the ranks of Emerson, Longfellow, and Lowell, would boost my sagging fortunes. Of course, membership was no problem now that I was a Swann. The family had been institute patrons for years.

“Follow my lead,” Deming said, opening the door. “Don`t give that guy an inch.”

I bowed my head in mock submission. “Yes, Master. Whatever you want.”

He sighed and pinched my bottom. “You are such a brat, Ms. Kane. Haven`t changed since we were kids. Always bashing my head with your book bag just to get your way.”

“Keep that in mind, big boy, unless you`re a candidate for FetLife. Pain and pleasure in equal measures. They promise to deliver on that, and so do I.”

We followed the milling crowd into the Bow Room, site of the evening`s festivities.

“You never explained this event,” I said. “What if it`s sold out?”

Deming gave me that superior snort that separates the cognoscenti from the huddling masses. “Unlikely, my pet. Swann Industries is a member of the ten and one-half percent Gifting Circle. Has been for years.”

“So?”

“Admission to any event is guaranteed. Comes with the territory.”

The territory in question was a yearly donation over $10,000. Nothing to sniff at, but Deming’s assertion of privilege bordered on smugness. Normally I would have reminded him of that. Not tonight. Humility was a dish best served in private.

“I’m suitably impressed, Counselor. Now will you answer my question?”

He pointed to a placard that announced the Concord University Teaching Fellowship. Apparently Gabriel was shilling for donations to that worthy cause.

“Mmm. Intriguing,” I said. “While prospective donors nosh and mingle, Gabriel passes the hat. What if Melanie shows up? That would throw a spanner in the works.”

“Won’t happen. According to Pam, Melanie decided to skip this event. Could be she’s finally getting some sense about that loser.”

“Oh, Deming, I wouldn’t call Pam a loser. A bit abrasive maybe.” My tongue was so firmly in cheek I looked like a chipmunk.

He rolled his eyes and nudged me toward the buffet table. “Funny. I dare you to say that to her face. If you`ve finished the comedy routine, let`s get some of the good stuff before it`s all gone.”

Hunger transforms Deming into the ultimate grouch. Since he never suffered one unanswered hunger pang in his over-privileged life, it was hard to understand. As he foraged for something edible on the forlorn buffet, I spied Gabriel Mann in the far side of the room, chatting up an eager woman of a certain age. From the look of it, the full charm offensive had been unleashed—secret smiles, furtive touches, and heavy eye contact. He hadn`t modified even one part of his tired act in the past decade.

Fair is fair. Gabriel looked his best tonight with burnished blond curls and clear blue eyes projecting youth, confidence, and manly vigor. His double-breasted blazer showcased a toned body augmented by excellent tailoring. None of it impressed me. Despite the window dressing, I knew the essence of the man. Glibness and superficial charm were plentiful in academic circles, but a kind, compassionate man like Deming is in short supply.

When he saw me, Gabriel stopped in mid-lie and grimaced. His quarry raised her head, birdlike, as if waiting for nourishment. I took full advantage of the confusion by extending my hand and advancing on them with an expression of cherubic innocence.

“So nice to see you,” I gushed. “Deming and I can`t wait to catch up.”

Gabriel gulped but quickly adjusted. He introduced me, confirmed our tête-à-tête, and made a quick getaway.

“Nice moves, Mrs. Swann.” Deming crept up behind me, stealthy as a panther. “I think you ruined his evening.”

“One can but hope. Come on,” I said, pointing to the podium. “Show`s about to start.”

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur of Gabriel-centric activity as he charmed the crowd with self-deprecating humor that masked a blatant attempt to pick their pockets. After the pitch, he slithered over to us, shook Deming’s hand, and waved us toward one of the Athenaeum`s private alcoves.

“So,” he said. “You`ve aroused my curiosity. What`s going on?”

Deming gave him the thousand-yard stare. “I presumed that Pamela had already spoken with you. Eja has some questions.”

“Questions? I thought everything was settled, at least as far as I was concerned.”

I had a sudden attack of déjà vu, watching Gabriel’s smug expression and pompous speech. He had never expressed sorrow or even mild distress at the murder of two women that he had known so well. Unless something concerned Gabriel Mann, he had zero interest in the subject. CeCe had once called him a sociopath, someone who lacked any real empathy for others. Grandiosity they called it on one website. I thought of something else. People like Gabriel have an oversized sense of entitlement. If Sonia shattered that illusion, he might have reacted in kind. Violently.

Deming’s elbow jabbed my side, bringing me back to business. I scoured my mind of emotion and spoke calmly to Gabriel.

“The cops say your alibi for Sonia’s murder has some gaps in it.”

Color suffused his face, as it always had whenever things went askew. “That`s crazy. I was counseling a student all afternoon.”

Deming crossed his arms and joined in. “Easy enough to verify. Who was it?”

I knew the answer to that one. “Nadia spoke with Keegan. She told him your
counseling session
ended around five. About the time that Sonia died.”

“Silly twit. Can`t even keep track of time. After she left I stayed in my office correcting essays for all the good it did.”

“Someone else saw you,” I said. “Melanie was there that afternoon. She thought you were with Sonia.”

Seeing him blanch should have pleased me, but the triumph was hollow. My time with Gabriel was an archaeological dig, buried under tons of happy memories with Deming.

“She never told me,” Gabriel muttered. “I swear I never left my office.”

Deming gave him the lawyer`s look, a bland expression that revealed nothing. “Congratulations. Not many men can go all day without using the facilities. I know I can`t.”

A light bulb clicked in Gabriel’s head. “Oh. I wasn`t thinking about that. Of course I used the mens’ room. That big woman, Tisiphone—something like that. She was prowling around too by the elevator. She must have seen me. Ask her.”

Deming’s expression morphed from neutral to barely concealed contempt. “I believe you mean Zarina, the president of COWE. That`s a good start. Now, did anyone else see you or call? That might be helpful.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I did see Fess strolling around, talking to Sorrel Yeagan, but they probably didn`t notice me. They were really into it.”

“Arguing?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don`t know. Something intense. I couldn`t hear anything. I figured they were on their way to see Sonia. She loved attention, you know. Craved it. Especially from men.”

I was tempted to mention the pot and the kettle idiom but knowing Gabriel, it would have sailed clear over his head.

Gabriel stiffened. “Surely they don`t suspect me. Even that dolt Keegan can`t be that stupid. What motive could I possibly have?”

“I seem to recall that tenure was an issue,” Deming said. “If I were you, I`d call Pamela right away.”

Gabriel was either innocent or a bigger boob than I had ever imagined. He brushed aside Deming’s advice with a grin. “No need. You see, Sonia and I had resolved the tenure battle. Called a truce. She planned a sabbatical. Something about that novel she was always chirping about.”

I recalled my last conversation with Sonia, just hours before her murder. Her attitude toward Gabriel hadn`t softened one bit. In fact, she was more determined than ever to pulverize him!

“She hated you, Gabriel. Sonia made that plain enough.”

He gave me the blue-eyed stare. “Surely you`re exaggerating, Eja. Academic tiffs happen all the time. They blow away eventually.”

I should have kept quiet, but I couldn`t let it go. “I`ve read the book, you know. Congratulations on landing a starring role.”

Deming put his arm around me more as a restraint than a gesture of affection. “I`m afraid she`s right, Mann.
Worm in the Apple
was pretty harsh. Hot stuff! The tenure committee might have reservations if they saw it. Bad publicity and all that.”

“Keegan read it too,” I said. “He called it a motive for murder.”

I expected the usual outrage and bluster from Gabriel, but he surprised me. He threw back his head and laughed—loud and hearty.

“Cops are shortsighted,” he sighed. “After all, nothing that fictional character did was illegal. Believe it or not, my classes are standing room only ever since my squabble with Sonia. The more she vilified me the better.”

“But your reputation . . .” I almost choked on the word.

Gabriel turned toward Deming with a man-of-the-world shrug. “She portrayed me as a Romeo, or what Eja would call a roué. Women love that sort of stuff. Want to reform you, tame you down.” His smile was insidious. “You know all about that, don`t you, Swann? Melanie told me the stories about you.”

Deming’s muscles tensed as if he might spring at his adversary. This time, I played peacemaker. I squeezed his arm, moved closer, and changed the subject.

“How did she take it? Melanie, I mean. You`re lucky that office door was closed when she came looking for you. Wives react differently than girlfriends. I know.”

He nodded. “Right you are. Melanie was pissed. Still is. Furious. Family name and all that rubbish. She`ll come around eventually though. I`m working on it.”

“Some of your colleagues must have resented the book,” Deming said. He had finally composed himself. His face was a calm, expressionless mask that gave away nothing.

Gabriel checked the room to make sure it was safe. “You know it! Paskert was apoplectic. No man wants to be called a weenie or a weakling. Evil is one thing; foolish is far worse.”

For once in his shallow, narcissistic life, Gabriel was right on target. Fess Paskert had been victimized by
Worm
and had every reason to be outraged. Sonia had savaged both his manhood and mental acuity. Had that anger led to murder?

After we shook hands with Gabriel and left the Athenaeum, Deming suggested a quick drink at the Four Seasons. He was particularly fond of the Bristol Lounge Bar and the tasty tuna rolls it served.

“Yum!” he said after we claimed a comfy sofa and placed our order. “Almost worth listening to your ex and his blathering. How you ever married that fool is beyond me.”

I put my finger on his lips. “Hush. You weren`t available. Too busy sowing your wild oats as I recall.”

The expression in his eyes stopped me cold. “I was foolish. Didn`t act fast enough, but I always loved you. My heart was yours—all the way from preschool.” He leaned over and kissed me, a long, lingering kiss. “Always yours, my love.”

After that, it took a while for us to get back on task. If we hadn`t been in a public space, the moment would have ended quite differently. Instead, we reconstructed the evening, focusing on information gleaned from Gabriel.

“It`s frustrating,” Deming said. “That English Department was Grand Central Station the day that Sonia died. In addition to Gabriel, you had Zarina, Paskert, Sorrel, and Melanie all wandering around aimlessly.”

“Don`t forget Nadia Pinsky. There`s something sly about that girl. Plus, she had a double motive to kill Sonia.”

He scowled at me as if I were crazy. “What, pray tell?”

“She was Duff’s friend and putative heir. Believe me, Nadia was already counting her inheritance too.”

Deming nodded. “Okay. What else?”

“This is trickier, but I think Nadia genuinely cares for Gabriel. Maybe she decided to help him out. I plan to confront her about that.”

Deming got a stubborn, mulish look on his face. He held up his palm, crossing guard style. “Stop. One of those people is a murderer. This is far too complicated for you to muck around in. I forbid it.”

Even Deming knew that was over the top. We locked eyes and burst out laughing. Fortunately, at that moment our snacks arrived, and tension was supplanted by animal appetite.

“You were saying?” I asked as he munched on his tuna roll.

Instead of answering, Deming grinned and exercised his right to remain silent.

“Okay, see what you think of this plan. Remember, we`re a team now. No secret agendas.” Writing mysteries had sharpened my strategic sense. Even Deming admitted that when he wasn`t in a snit.