Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) (8 page)

“Well, this is certainly a nice way to be greeted. What’s gotten into you?”

Sam kissed him on the cheek. “Nothing. I guess with John and Alex on their honeymoon I’m feeling a bit more romantic.”

Michael kissed Sam back and then held her at arm’s length. “I’ve got some exciting news.”

Now, if my husband came home and told me he had exciting news and his eyes were all bright with anticipation like Michael’s I would tend to think we might be coming into some extra money, or maybe he was going to whisk me away to some exotic location. But this was Michael and I had a feeling his news had nothing to do with a surprise for Sam.

“Susan is removing a patient’s wisdom teeth on Wednesday and she’s asked me to observe.”

God love him. The man was euphoric over the prospect of watching someone have teeth yanked out of their head.

“Susan?” Sam glared at Michael with her hands firmly on her hips.

“Doctor Dilworth. From the party?” Michael didn’t have a clue.

“Haven’t you pulled a few wisdom teeth yourself over the years?” Sam asked her husband.

“Sure, but here the procedure is done in the hospital like any other operation. Should be fascinating.”

Sam turned to me, hands still on her slim hips, and shook her head in resignation. “I give up.”

A few minutes later John arrived, and concluding we were all famished, we decided to go down to an area we had seen on Sunday, to try one of the many restaurants.

The city of Brussels had three train stations. The main one, the Midi train station, transformed itself into the most wonderful farmers market each Sunday.

It was called the Arab Market. I found details about it in the literature the Smiths had left for us and it proved to be a wonderful experience. Belgium has a large immigrant population coming from the countries of North Africa—Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia—and each week they all come together selling everything imaginable from food to plants, to fresh meat and fish, fabric for curtains, rugs of every conceivable size, and pots and pans galore. There were fresh herbs and spices, and from the moment we arrived we were assaulted with the smell of fresh coriander, mint, fennel, and ginger.

After the market we walked further along the main boulevard until we came to an antique market. Sam and I found several lace dollies for our mother, and four beautiful white linen and lace tablecloths—one for each of us, our mom, and Meme. We also found a couple of watercolors. The frames were old and cracking, but the small paintings were exquisite. I knew exactly where I was going to hang mine when we got home. With any luck, the weather would hold out. We vowed to come back next Sunday to both the Midi market and the antique market and hopefully John would be able to join us.

We discovered on Sunday the area had some ethnic restaurants and it was to this area we headed tonight. After walking around for a while, peeking into several cafés, we settled for an Indian restaurant near where the antique market was held. Once the guys had picked out their beers, I told John what Sam and I had been up to, leaving out a few bits of information.

“It seems even here in Belgium you insist on being Nancy Drew,” John said with a smile. He had his long legs stretched out under the table and rubbed my leg with his own.

“Maigret,” Sam said.

“Huh? Maigret? Is that some sort of local bird?” Michael asked.

“No. It’s the name of a fictional Belgian detective created by some writer whose name begins with an S. Oh, I can’t remember, but anyway, that’s Alex’s new name, Madam Maigret.”

“I see. Well, here are a few things
we’ve
learned today that you can add to your own investigation, Madam, but I’m warning you, all of you,” John looked around the table, “this info is to go no further than this table, understood?” All heads nodded though as soon as we returned to the apartment, I was going to pull out the laptop and send Meme another email. Even my eighty-year-old grandmother was fiber optically wired and had become quite proficient on the Internet.

“From what the preliminary reports show,” John began, “Martine was strangled with a piece, well, several pieces, of dental floss. The green mint kind. Pieces of the green wax were found in her neck and under her fingernails. Actually, the floss pretty much slashed her throat.”

I shuddered. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Dental floss. Who the hell would use dental floss to kill someone? How terrible.”

“Inspector Willix went to Wanda and Bill’s this afternoon after he got the report and sure enough, in the medicine cabinet above the sink was a box of mint dental floss.”

“I can’t believe someone would use floss,” I said. “I mean, who would think except maybe a denti...” My words trailed off and all eyes turned toward Michael.

“Hey! Wait a damned minute. I didn’t know the woman and I’ve never considered dental floss to be anything other than what it is meant to be.”

“Calm down, honey.” Sam patted her husband’s hand. “No one suspects you of anything.”

“Maybe the killer was trying to make it look like Michael was the murderer,” I suggested.

“Why?” John asked. “Everyone at the party knew we had just arrived. There was no way Michael could have known Martine before, so why would he kill her?”

“Thanks for your support, John,” Michael smiled.

“You know Inspector Willix. Before he showed up, no one would have thought you knew anyone in Belgium but Bill,” I said.

“I didn’t know him. I knew
of
him,” John corrected.

“I’m just saying it’s a small world and, yes, we know Michael couldn’t possibly know Martine, but someone at the party might not have known that.”

“Okay. I can see your point.” John took a sip of beer before continuing. “It’s a possibility the murderer could have picked the floss with the hopes of throwing suspicion elsewhere. A very small possibility, I would imagine. More than likely it was just the first thing the killer found.”

I fiddled with the edge of my coaster and then set down my cup of tea. “How about fingerprints?”

“Wanda cleaned the bathroom before everyone came on Saturday but there were still fingerprints all over. I’m sure everyone there must have used the room at one time or another during the day,” John told us. I had used the bathroom at least three times, so I could understand the police probably wouldn’t have much luck there. “They also took fingerprints from inside the cabinet. That shouldn’t have been touched. Maybe the police can get…what are those faces for?” John asked looking first at me and then at Sam.

“I may have looked inside the medicine cabinet,” I said sheepishly.

“Me, too,” Sam said.

My husband hung his head and groaned. He looked up and said, “Why on earth were you two poking around in someone else’s medicine cabinet?”

“We’re in Belgium, for God sake.”

“And?”

“And nothing, John. I don’t know what Sam was looking for,” I gave my sister the evil eye, “but I was curious how foreigners live.”

“Bill and Wanda are not foreigners. They’re Americans, just like you.”

“But they live in a foreign country. I was curious. Like what does their toothpaste look like? If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t touch a thing in the cabinet, I just opened it and looked.”

John now turned to Sam with a questioning look.

“I may have touched something.”

Now it was my turn to hang my head and moan.

“Hey. There was a box and I wanted to know what it was. That’s all I touched. I swear.”

“What was it?” I asked.

“Band-Aids. But I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t checked,” Sam said, using her goofy logic.

Our orders arrived and the waitress told us something in French we assumed to be that the plates were hot. I glanced at John and saw he had a small smile on his face.

“I’m going to have to tell Inspector Willix you touched the cabinet and you’ll probably have to come down to the station and be printed.”

“Oh, fun!” Sam said.

We turned out attention to our meals. Everything looked and smelled divine. John took another sip of his beer and then continued telling us what he had learned. “Martine had a welt on her face. We’re assuming someone hit her first, maybe in an attempt to quiet her or knock her out. There were a few more bruises on her body, but they were old and their origin is unknown.”

“That poor woman,” Sam said. “What kind of an animal does something like that?”

It was a rhetorical question but John answered anyway. “One who wanted the job done. There was quite a bit of damage done to her throat.”

“Can we change the subject, at least until we’re done eating?” I asked, getting an approving nod from Sam.

“If you two men can drag yourselves away from your new jobs, Alex and I would like to go to Bruges tomorrow. Wanda can’t make it, but she gave us a map and good directions. It looks like a charming town. They call it the ‘Venice of the North,’ it says in the brochure. Lots of canals and we can even take a boat ride,” Sam said.

“Sounds good to me,” Michael said. “I’m not due at the hospital until Wednesday.”

“Not due at the hospital? You don’t actually work here, Michael. You do realize that, right?” Sam asked her husband.

“And you, John,” I turned to my husband, “are you free to spend a little time with your wife on her
honeymoon
?”

“As a matter of fact, I think I could arrange that. Gerard has some sort of meeting tomorrow with some officials from Holland about drug trafficking.”

“Oh, good. I don’t want to interfere with your work or anything.”

John reached across the table and touched my hand.

“Hey, maybe we could go to Holland for the day. I’d love to see Amsterdam and the Anne Frank House,” Sam said.

“Let’s not forget Antwerp and the diamond district,” I volunteered brightly.

“Heaven forbid,” John teased.

After dinner we decided we needed a walk. We headed to the area around the Grand Place and strolled the ancient streets along with hundreds of other tourists.

“I still can’t believe I’m here. Just look at these cobblestones,” I said.

Sam winced. “They must be hell on heels. I wonder how these women do it.”

“I haven’t seen too many women with heels so far, but then most of the people I’ve been seeing lately look like tourists just like us. But you’re right, Sam, they’re fine as long as I have my New Balance shoes on, but if I had to go to work every day and walk over these things, I’d change my footwear.”

We walked down a street lined with restaurants. Christmas-colored lights were strung across the pedestrian street at regular intervals giving the whole place a party atmosphere. The night air felt warm and the sky clear allowing diners to eat al fresco. Michael suggested we try this area tomorrow night for dinner. Several fish restaurants showcased their catch of the day on large tables covered with crushed ice. I just hoped they cut the heads off of the rather large sea creatures before serving, though I didn’t think they did. Down a very narrow cobblestone alley was a café with marionette shows but the next viewing wasn’t until rather late so we decided to pass. There were street musicians at each corner, some playing solo, and some in groups. A few had CDs for sale and John bought a couple.

I slipped my arm through John’s and reached up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Happy?” He bent and returned my kiss.

“Very.”

By the time we ducked into a café for something to drink, the sky was bathed in muted light. “I can’t believe it’s still light out.” I looked at my watch. “It’s already ten-thirty.

As soon as the second round of beers was ordered, I was ready to get back on the subject of murder. “John, you mentioned there was a lot of damage to Martine’s neck. Are you suggesting the murderer was a man?”

“My guess is yes. But that doesn’t preclude it being a woman. The Dutch girl had huge hands. She was a really good player, I can tell you. And Donna seemed to be strong. And Jane, what’s with the weird hair? She could probably kill someone by strangulation. Her sour disposition alone could do the trick.”

I told John about the affair between Jane and Paul and asked if it might be important.

“I don’t see how it would implicate Paul unless he wanted to leave Martine for Jane and Martine was putting up resistance, but it sure makes me want to talk with Jane again. I’ll leave a message for Gerard when we get back.

“Monsieur, can I get you someding else?” asked the waiter. The guys ordered a third round of beers; Sam and I opted for tea.

“Remember on the tape how Paul said he didn’t want children and it being a source of discontent between him and Martine?”

“Yeah, he mentioned it to us today as well.” I took a sip of the tea the waiter had just delivered. “He said Martine had become obsessed with the idea of having a child.”

“Well, he would have had to start getting used to the idea himself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, John?” Sam asked. “Hey, this beer is great. Here, try a sip, Alex.” Sam passed her husband’s beer in my direction.

I put my cup down and reached for the glass. “You’re right, it is good. I’ll get it next time. I’m sorry John, what were you saying about getting used to an idea?”

“I was saying Paul was going to have to get over his reluctance to have children. Seems Martine was about two months pregnant when she died.”

Chapter 14

“That’s impossible. It just can’t be.” My voice had raised a few octaves and several other people in the café turned curious faces toward our group. “I’m sorry.” I lowered my voice. “John, the baby cannot possibly be Paul’s.”

“She’s right,” Sam said. “He told us this afternoon he had a vasectomy several years ago. Martine badgered him to get it reversed but his doctor said it wasn’t possible.”

“Are you sure about this?” John asked, his hands wrapped tightly around his glass.

I shook my head. “Well, that’s what Paul told us and I can’t see any reason why he would make something up. I’m sorry, John, it just slipped my mine. Who knew Martine was pregnant in the first place? If you had volunteered
that
little piece of the puzzle earlier then maybe we would have said something about the vasectomy.”