Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4) (25 page)

Anika sprang into action. She patted his arm, giving him the full impact of her hazel eyes. “Such integrity. Don`t worry, Fess. Eja won`t quote you directly if it causes any problems.”

He sputtered, torn between caution and financial gain. In the end, filthy lucre triumphed.

“Sonia was a gifted instructor,” he said. “Inspirational.”

“Not much of a scholar though,” I said. “She hardly published anything.”

He spread his hands in a gesture worthy of a cardsharp. “True enough.”

Anika tilted her head to one side. “But she wrote that novel. I could never do that in a million years. Her imagery was beautiful. Quite artistic.”

Paskert bowed his head and remained silent.

I took a healthy slug of tea and made my move. “She didn`t write it, did she? Several people have suggested that. I`ll bet Duff Ryder was the real author.”

His eyes widened as if he was confronting a new thought. “I can`t say. Sonia was definitely the researcher though. She was always poking into people’s lives, trying to expose their secrets.”

“Blackmail?” Anika gasped.

“Leverage. That`s what we call it in academia. Sonia used information to get what she wanted. She wasn`t the only one of course.”

“In the real world the police call that extortion.” I stared at my notes. “Tell me, were you part of her
research project
, Dr. Paskert?”

I was raised to respect my elders and mind my p’s and q’s. When Fess Paskert blanched, I felt a surge of guilt, not triumph.

He crossed his arms and glared, finally showing some spunk. “Why do you care, Ms. Kane? You`re not writing for the tabloids, are you?”

I returned his scowl with interest. “Not currently. Of course, writers must adjust to their public. Who knows what the future might bring.”

Anika reached over and patted his hand. “This must be very painful for you,” she said. “Eja is very discreet. Nothing you tell us will go beyond this room.”

I added one caveat. “Unless you murdered her, of course. I am not looking for scandal. I need insights into Sonia’s character.”

“Murder? I hated Sonia, but I didn`t murder her.” He stirred the dregs swirling around the bottom of his teacup. “I . . . it`s rather silly actually. Sometimes when your real life falls short, fantasy becomes a substitute.”

Anika nodded sympathetically. I maintained a stony silence.

“That`s why I got involved in that website. FetLife. Believe it or not, Sonia suggested it to me.” His shoulders slumped as he recounted the facts in a grim monotone. “Come to think of it, I guess that makes sense after all. The FetLife community was welcoming. No judgment or sneers. For the first time ever I found unqualified acceptance. Before I knew it I was hooked.”

I hesitated, trying to formulate a follow-up question that wouldn`t spook him. Once again, Anika galloped to the rescue.

“Aren`t these transactions done online?” she asked. “I can`t see the harm in that.”

Fess closed his eyes and grimaced. “Most are, but members can make private arrangements too. That`s what I did.”

“And Sonia found out,” I said. “What kind of proof did she have?”

“Someone made a video recording. Those camera phones are ubiquitous it seems.”

I visualized Paskert cavorting in one of several compromising situations. I had no interest in learning his particular fetish—just the thought of it was enough to gag a maggot.

“She threatened to go public?”

He laughed, a sharp, brittle sound that held no mirth. “You don`t get it. Sonia was far too sophisticated for that. She hinted, mentioned how fast things went viral—Lord I hate that expression—and laughed about YouTube and the stuffy trustees at Concord.”

Anika’s eyes grew moist. “I`m so sorry, Fess. You didn`t deserve that. How in the world did you handle it?”

“I caved. Gave her everything she asked for—class assignments, personal attention, public praise.”

“Promotions?” I asked. “Sonia wanted your support for tenure, didn`t she?”

Paskert curled his lip. “Not that. I held the line at that. She knew I was weighing my options. That`s why she started that lookism nonsense to stir the pot.”

“And the book? What about
Worm in the Apple
?
It could still damage you.”

He leaned back against the wall and smiled. “The product of a disgruntled employee. Besides, she pilloried plenty of others in that trashy book. I`m not the only one with an axe to grind.”

It made sense, but I wasn`t ready to let him off the hook. “Let`s face it,” I said. “You have motive, opportunity, and means. That makes you a more viable suspect than Gabriel. Has Keegan been nosing around lately?”

Suddenly Paskert relaxed. His hand was steady as he poured himself more tea. “I`m not worried about the police. I have a rock-solid alibi for both murders.”

Anika and I did a double take and spoke as one. “Really?”

Paskert preened as if he were reliving the experience. “When poor Duff was murdered, I was with a lady, a very respectable member of Boston society who shares my tastes. Someone both of you know. Naturally, I can`t share her name with you.”

To avoid gaping like the village idiot, I shut my mouth. Anika remained rock-steady.

“And when Sonia died?” she asked. “Were you with your friend?”

He shook his head. “Any number of employees saw me in my office. They`ll swear to it too. Lieutenant Keegan seems satisfied, if that`s your concern.” That fulsome grin was back in place.

I wasn`t convinced by Paskert’s so-called alibi. He could easily have nipped over to Sonia’s office unseen by his colleagues. The weather was stormy that day, and raingear would have hidden any blood splatter on the murderer.

Paskert’s portrait of Sonia had given me plenty to think about. It wasn`t pretty, but it was consistent with observations by Branca, Zarina, Nadia, Aunt Vesna, and even Gabriel. All things considered, it was a wonder that Sonia lasted as long as she had. Sorrel Yeagan knew she was spoiled and willful but loved her despite her flaws. Apparently he was the only one who did.

I snapped back in time to hear Anika discussing the special scholarship for Branca Enos. Paskert’s eyes popped, but he made the appropriate nods and noises of approval. After all, rich donors were entitled to their foibles, and the Swann Foundation was a very big fish indeed.

“I`ll personally handle her application, Mrs. Swann. Just have her send the paperwork to my attention. And I look forward to your presentation Thursday night, Ms. Kane.”

“You`re going too?” I tried to sound thrilled at the prospect.

“Wouldn`t miss it.”

Anika rose to her feet gracefully, her smile letter-perfect. “I knew I could count on you, Dr. Paskert. Bolin will be so grateful.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

NEITHER OF US spoke until we reached Anika’s car. I pulled my jacket tight around me and shivered despite the relative mildness of the day. Paskert’s calm dissection of Sonia’s character had chilled me. It revealed an unexpected level of cruelty in the man. I had dismissed him as an effete academic, but he was far tougher than he looked. Was he tough enough to use force if necessary? I couldn`t decide.

“Sonia made plenty of enemies,” Anika said. “Maybe Gabriel didn`t exaggerate.”

“She didn`t write that novel,” I said. “No wonder she offered Duff a percentage of the profits. Duff was a gifted writer. I read her stuff online.”

Anika fired up the engine and nosed into traffic. “I wonder. Originally I pegged Sonia as a visionary—charismatic, self-centered, but basically sound. Now I`m not so sure.”

I considered the possibilities. Superstars from saints to presidents shared some of those qualities in varying amounts. Some won glory, others crumpled into dust. With a bit of luck, Sonia might have vaulted to the top. Unfortunately, her luck ran out.

Lulled by the sweet sounds of Mozart on the stereo, I leaned my head back and dozed. I awakened as we approached the circular driveway of the Swann estate.

“Some partner I am. Forgive me, Anika.”

She smiled. “I didn`t have the heart to wake you. Besides, Bolin just sent me a text. He`s coming home early this evening so we can have our discussion.”

Once again I marvelled at their relationship. Anika glowed like a newlywed every time she mentioned her husband. Some couples grow apart after a tragedy, but the senior Swanns had grown even closer since losing CeCe.

“Sonia was quite a girl, wasn`t she? She had me completely fooled.”

Anika nodded. “She still deserves justice as does Duff. I can`t shake the feeling that Duff Ryder is the key to this whole mess.”

Po appeared out of nowhere escorted by Anika’s errant pup Olaf. Despite a stern rebuke from Po, Olaf launched himself at Anika in a futile attempt to claim her lap.

“Oh, you big baby,” she crooned. “Still thinks he`s a lapdog even though he tops a hundred pounds by now.” She planted a kiss on his forehead.

Olaf was a Leonberger of alarming proportions who was still growing. I loved him, but Deming groaned every time Olaf came his way. Even Cato gave him a wide berth.

“Come on,” Anika said. “Let`s go into the study and wait for Bolin. He won`t be long.”

True to her word, Bolin Swann joined us right on the dot of six. He kissed Anika, gave me a warm hug, and dodged the doggy advances of Olaf.

“Hard day, darling?” Anika’s eyes were fixed on her husband’s handsome face.

“Not bad.” Bolin handed Po his jacket and sat next to his wife. “Anyhow, I`m eager to hear about your day. You two always manage to find some adventure. I felt kind of sorry for Paskert being double-teamed by pros.”

Before beginning, we settled in to enjoy the tray of cocktails and goodies dispensed by Po. I followed Anika’s lead despite my desire to gorge on dumplings, egg rolls, and pot stickers. My abstemious mother-in-law ignored the carbs and nibbled on shrimp and crabmeat. In a testament to his superior genes and lively metabolism, Bolin heaped an obscene amount of goodies on his plate. Deming would have done the same thing.

The Swanns allowed themselves one cocktail before dinner, and although I typically joined them, this time I stuck with Pellegrino. Our session with Paskert and my forthcoming performance at Story Club night had rattled me. I needed a clear head and an uncluttered mind to hatch a workable plan.

While Anika discussed our tête-à-tête with Paskert, I tried to put everything in perspective.

Sonia was still an enigma despite everything I had learned about her. And there—always there—lingering in her shadow was Duff Ryder, an acolyte whose death posed too many unanswered questions.

Bolin said very little. He tilted his head to one side, absorbing every word and nuance. When Anika finally concluded, he spoke.

“Sonia was a complex character,” he said. “Bold, aggressive, somewhat unscrupulous. Not unlike many CEOs I know.”

“Ruthless too, wouldn`t you agree?” I pictured Sonia spinning a web that trapped unwary males and a few females. “Blackmail, sexual shenanigans, who knows what else.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Sorrel called her willful, didn`t he? A beautiful child.”

“Children are often cruel even when they don`t mean to be.” Anika brushed her hand against her heart. “Not ours, of course, and not you, Eja. You were a loyal, beautiful little girl. Always. A true friend.”

“Still are,” Bolin chuckled. “Which reminds me, Dem called me last night. He`s concerned about this thing on Thursday. Some kind of writing program, Eja?”

“Gabriel roped me into doing it. Seems harmless enough though.” I looked away, unable to meet their eyes. Deception is not my strong suit. That probably explains my abysmal performance at poker.

Anika zeroed in on me just as she did when I was a child. “Are you sure you`ll be okay? Fess Paskert said he`d be there. Who else is going?”

“Probably a contingent from Concord University. Gabriel promised to bring the crowd from COWE as well.”

Just when I thought I had pulled it off, Bolin chimed in.

“No wonder Dem was concerned. Sounds like most of the suspects from the murders will be there.” He gave me that conscience-scrubbing stare perfected by most titans of industry. I wasn`t frightened, but I did squirm.

Anika twisted the exquisite emerald on her ring finger. “Oh, I hate this. If only we could be there with you.”

Bolin patted her hand. “Perhaps there`s another solution. I`d feel more comfortable if you had some backup. What about Sorrel Yeagan? He`s got a stake in all this.”

A good idea, but it could be complicated. After all, I planned to discuss the murder and character of the woman he loved. That would be a bitter pill for Sorrel or any other survivor to swallow. Despite my misgivings, I caved under the steely gaze of my father-in-law.

“Makes sense. I`ll ask Sorrel. Who knows, maybe Lieutenant Keegan will join us too. Cambridge is his beat, after all.”

I knew I was safe there. Keegan made no secret of his distaste for interfering amateurs, including yours truly. Especially yours truly. He didn`t seem like the bookish type either. For Keegan, reading mysteries and true crime would be a busman’s holiday, and forget anything that even smacked of romance.

We then enjoyed a delicious lobster dinner and a political conversation that had little to do with murder or mayhem. Since money knows no favorites, the Swanns socialized with most of the big names on both sides of the political aisle. I enjoyed their anecdotes and tart observations about those in power. Bolin in particular had few illusions about our elected officials of any stripe.

After Po dropped me home, I fussed over Cato and spent the remainder of the evening reviewing my notes and tactics. Despite my best efforts, I must have dozed off. When the phone rang I leapt into the air poised for flight.

“Dreaming of me?” Deming asked. His voice had a deep, smoky tone that boiled my blood.

“Always.” I felt a flush stealing up my face. “Any progress on your negotiations?”

“Some. Not enough. I should wrap things up late Thursday afternoon. Then I can catch the shuttle for Boston.”

I did a quick calculation of flight schedules. “You should be waiting for me when I get home. That`s good.”

“Not good enough. I miss you—more than you know. Sleeping alone makes me restless. I need you next to me.”

“Really?” I felt like a breathy teenager with her first crush. Why was it so hard to accept that Deming loved me and always had even when he was bedding every beauty on the East Coast?

“Let me tell you all about it.”

And then he did.

SUNSHINE FLOODED my bedroom Wednesday morning. That dose of midnight phone sex was a better soporific than Ambien. It swept me into the arms of Morpheus on a tidal wave of lust, leaving me thoroughly satiated.

After tending to Cato, I called Sorrel Yeagan. I didn`t tell him everything—just enough to emphasize his interests in the proceedings.

“I`ll go, but I`m not sure why you want me there. Is it something about Sonia?”

I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Here`s the plan. After my presentation I think we should finally know who killed Duff and Sonia. Your job is to watch their faces for signs of guilt.”

“Then what?” Sorrel’s flat tone sounded almost defiant. “Do I make a citizen’s arrest or something? I`m not a police officer, you know.”

“This was a bad idea. Forget I mentioned it, Sorrel. Don`t worry. I`ll let you know if anything develops.”

So much for Bolin’s brilliant plan. I felt like an idiot.

“Eja, hold on. I forgot my manners. Since I lost Sonia, nothing matters much to me anymore, even courtesy.”

“It was my father-in-law’s idea anyway. He wanted someone there to protect me.”

“From what?” Sorrel said. “Or from whom?”

“Bolin is afraid that the murderer might target me. He`s just being overprotective. Deming is away, and so he suggested you as my bodyguard. It was an imposition. I`m sorry.”

Sorrel paused. “Don`t be. I should be the one taking the risks, not you. Give me the time and place, and I`ll be there.”

My next call was even more disastrous. Phineas Keegan made no effort to be civil. He straddled the line between curt and rude from the beginning.

“What is it now, Ms. Kane? Don`t tell me you solved the murders.”

Apparently good manners were among the casualties of the new millennium. After making a mental note to update police training, I turned the other cheek and answered with girlish charm or what passed for it these days.

“Solving murders is your job, Lieutenant. I just thought you might be interested in a new angle. Unless you`ve already made an arrest.”

He bristled a bit but quickly fell to earth. “Go on. I`m listening.”

I outlined my plan with masterful precision, starting with our findings about Sonia and concluding with the gathering at the Story Club. All the while Keegan maintained an ominous silence. No
ah
s,
em
s, or words of encouragement. He was either mummified or in a snit. When he finally made a sound, it was a guffaw, a snort of contempt mingled with a hearty dose of humor.

“Let me get this straight. You`re actually staging one of those Agatha Christie endings—gathering all the suspects and hoping someone blurts out a confession. Really, Ms. Kane. I gave you more credit than that.”

I am a fangirl of Dame Agatha, but I refused to admit it to Keegan.

“Don`t worry. I have someone planted in the audience to observe their reaction. Maybe a confession is too much to hope for, but someone will react. I guarantee you.”

Keegan’s parting shot was worse than his laughter. “Gosh, I wish I could be there. Unfortunately, I have to wash my hair that night.”

I SLEEPWALKED through the remainder of the day without much to show for my efforts. Words are my stock-in-trade, but today’s output was a trickle, not a flow. By the time Cato commandeered me, I finally completed a satisfactory eight-minute reading. We live in a litigious society, so I avoided any outright accusations. Bolin had been quite specific about that during our discussion last night. Deming would have blown a gasket at the thought of it. Hints are acceptable when couched in fiction, so I traded the confines of true crime for the broader landscape of make-believe. My eight minutes would be fiction with a real-world twist.

I called it
Duplicity
, a portrait of a vibrant but flawed woman whose life choices resulted in her death. Then I profiled the potential suspects who surrounded her, citing the motive, means, and opportunity each had. Names were changed to protect the writer although anyone familiar with the characters could easily hazard a guess. Despite my misgivings, Duff’s murder was lumped in with Sonia’s. I had no other alternative.

As Cato and I trotted about the Common, I practiced my presentation. When we reached the Frog Pond, I shortened his lead and sat on the bench, considering possible scenarios. Sex, blackmail, ideology, and ambition were jumbled into one noxious stew. Add Nadia to the formula, and the issue of mental instability surfaced.

“Thought I`d find you here.” Zarina loomed over me in true Valkyrie fashion, sporting a hooded down jacket and badly scuffed boots. “Practicing for tomorrow night, are you?” Those innocent words were laced with an undercurrent of venom that was hard to miss.

“Not stalking me, are you?” I asked, putting up a brave front while Cato nuzzled her open palm. “I suppose you`ll be there tomorrow night.”

“Wouldn`t miss it.” Zarina’s eyes narrowed to shards of blue ice. “You`re taking quite a risk, Ms. Kane. After all, two women are dead. One more wouldn`t make any difference.”

I ignored the fear streaking through me. My heart rate zoomed to overflow, but I managed to tilt my head toward her in a gesture of false bravado. The Common was public space. She might throttle me, but she couldn`t kill me now with pesky witnesses floating about.

“Are you a participant?” I asked. “You must have a lot to say.”

I glimpsed in her eyes the infinite sadness of great loss coupled with a healthy thirst for retribution.

“I`m sharing Duff’s writing,” she said. “It`s a tribute and a challenge.”

I shrugged. “Lots of motive in that crowd. Everyone had a reason to hate Sonia including you. Especially you.”