Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4) (5 page)

Chapter Six

“MY SERGEANT DID some checking on you,” Keegan said. “Something clicked in my brain when I heard your name, but I just couldn`t place it.”

Instead of filling empty conversational space, I chose silence. As a weapon, it was enormously effective. When Keegan realized that his gambit had failed, he switched tactics and tried goading me.

“You have a reputation with the Boston PD,” he said. “Fancy yourself a detective, don`t you?”

“Hurrah for Google,” I said. “My life is an open book.”

Insolence is a bad habit of mine that enrages adversaries yet feels divine. In this instance, it was counterproductive. Phineas Keegan shot me a stern look and upped the ante.

“You find this amusing, do you? A young woman, someone you knew, lost her life.”

Murder is never amusing, but Keegan and I had clashed from the first. He was right about one thing though. We had focused on gamesmanship instead of considering the victim.

“Sorry. I want to help any way that I can. I didn`t really know Duff Ryder, but she seemed like a nice person. Very fervent. I just met her and Sonia yesterday.”

Keegan huffed a bit and finally settled down. “Okay. What do you know?”

I marshaled my thoughts, starting with Sonia’s phone call and ending with Duff’s murder. The temptation to drag Gabriel Mann into the mix was almost irresistible.

“Someone was threatening Sonia. Because of the lookism cause, I suspect.”

“Lookism? That`s a joke, isn`t it? I mean a bunch of women griping doesn`t sound like your cup of tea, Mrs. Swann. More like a coffee klatch.”

“I`m not a member of COWE, but I certainly support many of their aims.” I folded my hands in front of me. “It`s a human rights issue, Lieutenant.”

Keegan looked weary. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “After working twenty-five years in Cambridge, I am well aware of human rights.” He adjusted his reading glasses and shuffled some papers. “You mentioned death threats. Is that a guess, or do you have proof?”

“I saw them. Copies, anyhow. Duff shared them with me yesterday.” I gave Keegan what I hoped was a winsome smile. “The Cambridge police have the originals. Check with Sorrel Yeagan.”

“Funny you should say that. Officer Malloy checked, and we have no record of any police report. Strange, isn`t it?”

“Bureaucracies are notoriously inefficient.” I sniffed. “Probably misfiled or lost.”

Antagonizing the police is bad strategy and poor policy. By an effort of will, I clamped my jaw shut and said no more. Keegan saw my reaction and laughed—an unfriendly snort reminiscent of a rampaging elephant.

“Tell me everything you know about this. And while you`re at it, fill me in on your former husband. I understand he feuded with Ms. Reyes.”

I recalled the advice that Bolin Swann had once given me. “Never lie to the police, but don`t volunteer anything.”

I shrugged. “Sorry. Gabriel Mann is a stranger to me. Has been for a decade. Come to think of it, I didn`t even know him when we were married.”

“Well,” Keegan said. “You must know something. Most ex-wives would kill for this chance. I know mine would.”

That didn`t surprise me one bit. Given his sexist comments, Keegan probably left a string of angry women in his wake.

“I know all about their rivalry,” Keegan said. “Social media, you know. Cops use it too.” He sighed. “These academics fight over the damnedest things.”

“Tenure is a very big deal,” I said. “Money, prestige, advancement.”

“Sounds like a motive for murder to me.” He showed a set of exceptionally large teeth with a predatory mien.

I had a sharp, sudden aha moment. He`d won the first skirmish in our battle of wills. Round one to Keegan.

“Dr. Paskert is around here somewhere. He knows what the score is. After all, he`s the boss. However, in my experience Gabriel was not the violent type. He used other means to get what he wanted.”

Keegan got all wide-eyed. “Hmm. Seducing the opposition, perhaps? Maybe he used his wife to eliminate the competition? Works for me. Nice and tidy, two for one.” He rose and loomed over me. “You`ve been very helpful, Mrs. Swann. You`re free to go now.”

THE MOMENT I shut the door, Deming and Anika swarmed me.

“Don`t say another word,” Deming hissed. “Just keep on moving.”

For once I didn`t argue. My brief encounter with the lieutenant had spooked me. Who knew what tricks he`d use on Gabriel? No doubt about it—Keegan was wily, and that made him dangerous.

“Is your dad still here?” I asked.

“He walked Sonia to her car,” Anika said. “Mr. Yeagan will take her home.”

We exchanged glances but kept our thoughts to ourselves. For an avowed feminist and strident activist, Sonia certainly knew how to handle men. Lookism aside, she used her beauty to great advantage.

I expected the lobby to be jammed, but the throng had dissipated, leaving only a few posters and some stragglers from the Bella Brigade. In a jarring note, yellow crime scene tape cut a swath across the ladies’ room area.

“Is she . . . have they moved her yet?” I asked Deming.

He nodded and put his arm around me. “The coroner’s van just left. Come on. Let`s go home, Eja. We`ll talk it over there.”

Right on cue, the Bentley pulled up to the curb.

“Bolin texted me,” Anika said. “He`ll be here awhile. Po will drop us off and go back for him later.”

My limbs felt as stiff as a marionette’s. I stepped gingerly into the Bentley and snuggled next to Deming.

“Feeling sad?” Deming asked. “You`re a pro at this by now.”

I couldn`t explain it. Duff Ryder was a virtual stranger, but I felt an almost primal grief for the ungainly young woman whose life had been snuffed out. I`m a writer and a damned good one. Maybe I could pierce the veil of anonymity around her life and give her death some visibility. I shuddered to think about one of those bland, featureless obituaries that so often appeared in the
Globe.
Duff deserved better.

“Did you get anything from Sonia?” I asked. “Information, that is. The way she clung to you, it looked like she`d give a lot more.”

Deming brightened. “Really? I didn`t notice. Besides, you`re too suspicious. Tell her, Mom.”

Anika laughed. “Some women are like that around men. Almost a reflex action. She tried the same thing with your father, you know. That poor Mr. Yeagan. It must be hard for him.”

“Besides, I didn`t stick around long enough to hear anything,” Deming said. “Keegan was chomping at the bit. Once I bowed out, he sent me packing.”

My feelings about Sonia were decidedly mixed. At the very least, she was a study in contrasts. For an outspoken feminist she wasn`t above flirting with any presentable male or capitalizing on her appearance. Talk about lookism!

“Sonia has enough cosmetics to open her own store,” I said. “Poor Duff scuttled around in that dank outfit while Sonia played the queen. No wonder things were rough between them.”

Anika nodded. “I noticed the same thing. The girl obviously adored Sonia, but the feeling was not mutual. Very empress to scullery maid. Maybe that explains everything.”

“Wait a minute,” Deming said. “What are you talking about?”

“The big question, of course. How did Duff ingest that throat rinse? It wasn`t hers, but somehow she used it.” I rapped him on the knuckles. “Keep up, or your mom and I will solve the damn thing while you stumble around in the dark.”

Deming used the cover of darkness to prove how wide-awake he really was. When we reached home, Anika blew both of us a kiss and promised to call later in the day.

“Come along, Mrs. Swann,” Deming said. “Time to get some rest.”

I was tired—exhausted—but still sleep eluded me. Deming slipped into slumber land almost immediately, but I could not. The image of Duff Ryder, splayed across the floor, haunted me. The white powdery foam on her mouth popped up every time I closed my eyes. That had to mean poison. The police would test the residue of course, but I needed closure. I had to confirm my suspicions. My iPad was equipped with an enhanced version of
The Book of Poisons
, something I should have consulted straight away. I slipped out of the covers and slid toward the edge of the mattress. Before I escaped a pair of strong arms trapped me.

“Going somewhere?” asked a husky voice.

“Just insomnia. Go to sleep.”

“Nope. Get back under the covers, close your eyes, and let me hold you. You`ll sleep then. Guaranteed.”

I weighed my options. Deming would insist on getting up if I did, and there was the further danger of awakening Cato. The last thing I wanted was a forced march to the Common for a 2 a.m. potty break. All in all, surrender, sweet surrender, was the only smart play.

ONCE AGAIN, HE was right. After Deming administered his version of sleep therapy, I dozed off until blinding sunlight and the urgent cries of Cato awakened me. I blinked once then once again at the time display. Nine o’clock! I found my robe and staggered toward the door.

The scent of espresso wafted into the room, followed by my husband carrying a cup of the precious brew on a silver tray. He had slicked his shiny black hair behind his ears and applied Royal Oud, my favorite fragrance. No Trojan horse ever looked that good. Be wary of a gorgeous man bearing gifts.

“What`s all this?”

“At your service, m`lady.” Deming dodged Cato’s teeth and sat beside me. “Consider this a bribe.”

My need for caffeine outweighed my suspicions. I took a sip and sighed. “What`s the deal?”

“Stay out of this murder, Eja. No good can come from it.”

“Duff Ryder proved that already. Besides, I may accept Sonia’s job offer. Why not? It might be interesting.”

I knew that Deming was working himself into a major snit. He folded his arms and narrowed those hazel eyes, looking very much the affronted hapa prince. We had sparred since preschool, so I was conversant with all the signs.

“Things are different now,” he growled. “You`re a married woman with responsibilities.”

“I`m also a writer with a career to consider. True crime sells really well these days.”

He set his jaw in a particularly stubborn pose. My husband, an elegant mule with a fetching chin cleft. “What if I forbid you to get involved?” he said.

“Don`t try it, buster. I`m your equal, not your subject.” I set my cup on the table, calmly and deliberately, and stared him down.

Deming shifted his strategy like the wily lawyer that he was. “I worry about you, don`t you see? Something strange is going on there, and I can`t always be there to protect you. Murder and who knows what else. With Gabriel Mann involved, I really worry. Never did trust that guy.”

I rose, stood on tiptoe, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Don`t worry about Gabriel. By the way Keegan pounced on him, he has enough to contend with. I promise not to take any chances. Besides, your mother will be there most of the time. Tell you what. Let`s discuss it when we go to their place for brunch.”

He wasn`t happy, but Deming knew an olive branch when he saw it. “I guess so,” he grumbled. “I already spoke with Dad, and they expect us at noon.”

“Great. Now, let`s saddle up and run Cato around the Common. You know how the little guy holds a grudge.”

WE DIDN`T GET FAR. Melanie Hunt ambushed us just as we reached the swan boats. She sprang into the pathway, startling two humans and one very focused spaniel. Deming and I reacted better than Cato. We managed a semi-civilized greeting. Cato bared his teeth and charged the interloper.

“Eek!” Melanie screamed. “That dog bit me.”

“Don`t mind him,” I said. “See. It was only a nip. No blood.”

Deming reacted like a lawyer. “Cato was protecting Eja. You really should be more cautious about accosting people.” He helped Melanie to a bench, oozing faux concern. “I`m surprised you aren`t in bed after last night`s shock. Don`t you live all the way over in Wellesley?”

She nodded her perfectly coiffed head and sobbed. “I`m so afraid. Terrified. That policeman—Keegan—has it in for us. Do you know he practically accused me of poisoning Sonia’s spray?”

“Why in the world would he think that?” I braced myself for an uncomfortable scene.

Melanie curled her lip and pointed. “You told him something spiteful about Gabriel and implicated me too. Just because my husband discarded you.”

I fought the urge to slap her silly. Once again, Deming read my mind. He clasped my wrist in a vise and joined the battle using his most supercilious tone.

“You`re wrong, Melanie. My wife has no interest in you or your husband. Gabriel asked for her help with Sonia. I was there myself when he did. Perhaps you should discuss this matter at home.”

Instead of moving, Melanie burst into tears. Her stentorian sobs were enough to draw stares and raise the eyebrows of every passerby. Before long a knot of looky-loos had gathered.

To avoid the camera phones of the curious, Deming angled his body to shield Melanie. Fortunately, the drama-hungry crowd was comprised of tourists who didn`t recognize any of us.

“See here,” Deming said. “Our place is right across the Common. Come back, and we`ll sort things out. Tea, that`s what you need.”

My recipe for the lachrymose lady was far more brutal—a hearty dose of Valium or a kick in the pants. Anything to shut her up. One glimpse of Deming’s film star face did the trick. Melanie clasped his arm, turned down the volume, and meekly followed. Cato and I brought up the rear of the parade.