The Goodbye Body (31 page)

‘That is a very poor analogy,” I said sternly. “I have no reason to believe you, or to accept your story that Gary Billings is a rogue agent who killed two people. Maybe you killed them.”

He tried to look offended, but it was unconvincing. “The Bureau has strict policies about such things. Had I gotten to Mordella first, I would have taken him in for interrogation. Although I was aware of the Santini girl’s affiliation, I had no reason to think she had intimate knowledge of Dolly’s whereabouts. If I had, she too would have been interrogated. The FBI is overseen by the federal government, and we operate under legal strictures. The Velocchio family’s primary instincts are based on self-preservation—and revenge.”

I took a nibble of the muffin, which was surely made from the same roots and berries as the muddy coffee. I vowed never again to grouse about the coffee at the police department, presuming I lived long enough to grouse about anything at all. “Okay, Nick, if that’s your real name, why haven’t you done anything about Gary? You told me he’d been suspended.”

“He is not aware of my presence. Furthermore, he broke no law when he rented the condo.”

“Well, he did if he killed two people,” I pointed out as I kept trying to swallow the muffin crumbs lodged in my throat. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“That is a matter for the local authorities, who appear to have no evidence of his involvement. The victims were not under federal protection. You’re beginning to look ill, Ms. Malloy. Would you like a glass of water?”

Sally Fromberger would have been delighted to fetch water, thump my back, and drag me into the kitchen to demand details. I shook my head. “Gary told me he was going to the police department to identify himself and take over the case. Why don’t you do the same, Nick? Tell Lieutenant Rosen to flip a coin and call me with the winner’s name. We have around-the-clock protection at the house, so don’t bother dropping by later with some feeble claim about testing the bacterial levels in the pool.” I refrained from knocking over the mug as I stood up, although it would have been interesting to find out if it could eat through his clothing and do considerable damage to his ability to sire children. “Your story is compelling, but I didn’t just hop off a truck packed with illegal immigrants. I hope you enjoy the muffin.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Ms. Malloy,” he said softly.

“Such is the perilous life of a bookseller.” I left before Sally could catch me, and walked to the bookstore. I gazed at it as if it were a holy shrine, with all the answers contained on neatly printed pages, along with footnotes. If only, I thought longingly, I could slip inside, sit down between the racks, and flip through pages until I stumbled on answers.

Or a list of the cast of characters.

Despite the innumerable questions and few answers pinging inside my head, I recalled the purported reason for my outing and went to a newsstand owned by a pair of expatriates from the English department. After a congenial discussion of the latest campus scandals, I talked them out of a copy of the
New York Times
and drove back to the house. The two police officers nodded at me as I went to the front door and rang the bell.

Caron opened the door and dragged me inside. “Is what she says true?” she whispered, clinging to my arm. “I mean, I have No Idea what to think. Does she really have all these false driver’s licenses? Isn’t that illegal? Did she tell you why she came back? Doesn’t she know about these mobsters and how they’ve murdered people? She closed all the curtains and blinds, and it’s like a mausoleum. I keep waiting for Petti to come stumbling in from the freezer with an icicle dangling from his nose!”

“Calm down, dear,” I said as I extricated my arm. “I don’t have any idea what she told you, but she is certainly aware of what’s happened since she left on Monday. I do think we’re safe as long as the police are parked in the driveway and the gate’s locked.”

“She managed to get inside the house.”

“She has a house key,” I said. “No one else does, including me.”

“Yeah, because Sara Louise took it with her when she left two days ago. Who’s got it now?”

It was a very good question, one that I hadn’t considered. Sara Louise’s purse had not been found at the scene. Possession of the key did not guarantee a free run of the house, however. Once the alarm was switched on, anyone using a key had only a minute to punch in a code on the keypad. I wasn’t sure what would happen if the sequence was disrupted, but images of Keystone Kops and paratroopers descending from all directions had charm. “What did you and Inez decide to do about Dolly?”

“It’s okay with us if she stays here. What are you going to say to Peter when he finds out? Will all of us be arrested? Inez says her parents will absolutely kill her if she gets sent away to some juvenile lockup for the next two years. They’ve already paid for her to spend August in Honduras or Guatemala with her church group, building an orphanage. She’d do better in a cell. I can just see her sleeping in a tent with spider monkeys, tarantulas, six-inch leeches, and poisonous snakes.”

I went into the dining room and put down the newspaper. The den was unoccupied. “Where is everybody?”

“Dolly’s cleaning up the kitchen, and Inez went upstairs to read. I’ve been trying to watch TV, but all that’s on are either church services or politicians spouting platitudes. The only way to tell the shows apart is by what they’re wearing. The politicians avoid polyester and pastels.”

“No tango lessons yet?”

“This afternoon, unless we’re locked in those nasty little rooms at the PD with one-way mirrors and all the modern conveniences of a Moscow apartment.”

I put my arm around her shoulder and tried to sound wise. “We’ll be okay, dear.”

“Wasn’t that the motto of the
Titanic?”
Caron went into the den and flopped down on the sofa.

I went into the kitchen. Dolly was in the pantry, putting cardboard containers and plastic wrappers in the trash can. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get to share the souffle,” she said as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and joined me. “It was spectacular when I took it out of the oven. Did you find a copy of the
Times?”

I sat down on a stool. “Yes, but I also found out some other things of perhaps greater interest. Are you familiar with someone named Nick Lambert?”

She dropped the towel by the sink and turned around to look at me. Her lips barely moved as she said, “I’ve heard the name. Why?”

“He and I had an interesting exchange this morning. He claims that he’s an FBI agent and that Gary Billings was suspended for bungling evidence concerning the upcoming grand jury investigation. Nick also said that Gary most likely killed Petti and Sara Louise.”

“Did you believe him?”

“I don’t know who’s telling the truth,” I admitted frankly. “Gary has an alibi for the time Sara Louise was killed. That’s more than Nick has. The police aren’t sure when Petti was killed, partly because of the tissue damage caused by the freezer.” I did not volunteer the primary reason why the autopsy had not yet been completed.

Dolly’s eyes filled with tears. “Poor, sweet Petti. If only he’d stayed in Brooklyn instead of rushing to my rescue. The only family he had was a cousin who lives in Australia or New Zealand. Has anyone made arrangements for his burial?”

“Not that the authorities are aware of,” I said. “But what about Nick Lambert? Is he the FBI agent—or is Gary? Why are they so interested in locating you? And why did you come back here?”

“I can’t tell you, Claire. I really must go lie down for a while. Please tell the girls we’ll start our lesson in an hour or so.” She gave me a wan smile and left the kitchen.

I might as well have been questioning a scissor-headed flyswatter, I thought glumly as I gathered up the
Times
from the dining room table and went into the living room. I would have preferred the patio, but it seemed too exposed. Dolly had experienced no problems getting inside the house despite the vigilance of Farberville’s finest. The backyard was a veritable playground of hiding places, from the gazebo to the upper branches of the pine trees. I wished I felt quite as confident about our security as I had when glibly telling Caron that we were perfectly safe. Which we probably were. My gravest danger was likely to be that of indigestion from the coffee and muffin.

The first section of the paper was, as always, a compilation of international disasters, from attempted (and successful) assassinations to ferries that had flipped, insurgencies that had flopped, and pious pronouncements from duly-elected political leaders and insecure dictators. Medical breakthroughs held great promise for those of us who would be long gone before the drugs went on the market. Pomp and circumstance. Breakthroughs and breakdowns.

I moved on to the metro section. Sanitation workers planned to strike, as did teachers. Vacant lots in war zones had been graced with benches and proclaimed to be community parks. A ceiling had collapsed in an elementary school, luckily during the night. A neighborhood coalition had vowed to eradicate drug dealers from abandoned buildings. A church and a synagogue had been vandalized, reinforcing the American illusion of religious equality. The police were baffled by a series of electronics store robberies over the past several months, but had promising leads. They had no leads in the arson investigation of a funeral home in Flat-bush, in which the body of the owner had been discovered after the fire had been extinguished in the early hours of the morning. At least his family had not been burdened with the cost of cremation.

I pulled back the drapes long enough to assure myself that the police officers were present, then found a pencil and tackled the dreaded Sunday crossword puzzle. The blank squares remained as blank as my mind. I could usually dash off a good deal of the puzzle by relying on my innate acuity and flexibility, but even the most elementary vocabulary challenges eluded me. Asian rivers, Polynesian capitals, chemical compounds, and lethal South American toads rarely slowed me down. Wondering if I was in need of a nap along with everybody else in the household, I pulled off my shoes, stretched out on the sofa, and tucked a pillow under my head. Snippets of dreams tumbled by like scenes from a poorly staged farce.

My eyes flew open when I felt a hand press down on my mouth. Inez stared at me, her expression as solemn as that of a juror preparing to read a verdict that did not forebode well for the defense. “Ms. Malloy,” she whispered, “don’t make any noise.” She withdrew her hand, but stayed nearby in case I could not restrain myself. ‘There’s something you need to see. Follow me.”

She led me to the hall and then through the dining room to the doorway of the den. I could see Caron’s feet dangling off the end of the sofa and hear her faint snores. It was hardly worthy of a magazine cover. I elbowed Inez and whispered, “This?”

Inez held up one hand as we advanced into the room. As we edged past the desk, I saw Dolly on her hands and knees, groping under the sofa. She finally sat back, sighed, and glanced in our direction. Her face, which had been pink, turned pale.

“Oh, my goodness, you startled me,” she said with a deprecatory laugh. “This must look quite peculiar.” She stood up and brushed at invisible carpet fibers on her knees. “I can’t imagine what you’re thinking.”

“Neither can I,” I said.

She licked her lips. “I lost an earring last night, and thought it might have rolled under the sofa. It could also be under one of the cushions, but I didn’t want to disturb Caron.”

Caron had been disturbed. She sat up and blinked at Dolly, then at Inez and me. “What’s going on?”

Dolly sank down beside her and patted her knee. “Nothing, dear. You had such a pretty smile on your face while you were sleeping. Were you dreaming about a special boy?”

“I was dreaming about pigsties,” Caron retorted grumpily. She pushed her curls out of her face and glared at me. “Is there some reason all of you are standing there staring at me like I’m covered in pig poop?”

I gave Inez a nudge in the back. “Why don’t you help Dolly search for her earring—or whatever it is? I’m going to make coffee.”

“What a lovely idea,” Dolly chirped. “I’ll make some little sandwiches. I seem to recall that there’s a box of raspberry tarts in the freezer. It’s unfortunate that we can’t go out to the patio and enjoy the sunshine.”

“I’ll handle it,” I said to her, unable to put up with any more of her pig poop, so to speak. “Why don’t you put on some music and give the girls a few pointers?”

Dolly maintained her bright smile. “Well, girls, why don’t you show me what you’ve mastered thus far? I know how much it will mean to you to win the talent contest, and I think I can help you. Caron, do stop yawning and find the remote. Inez, please push the ottoman out of the way so we’ll have adequate space. It’s impossible to concentrate on the moves if you’re worried about crashing into furniture.”

I’d just reached the kitchen when the doorbell rang. I hurried back to the den and said, “Dolly, you need to go upstairs. Girls, grab the newspaper from the living room and settle down in here.” The doorbell rang again. “Now,” I added urgently.

Dolly scampered past me and went up the stairs. I waited until Caron and Inez were back on the sofa, feigning fascination with the financial pages, then took a deep breath and opened the front door. One of the police officers stood on the porch, his face twitching with anxiety.

I was about to offer him immediate use of the guest bathroom when he said, “Ma’am, there’s sort of a situation. I was gonna call the lieutenant, but they said not to. I will, though, if you want me to.”

I peered around him and saw Lucy. Beside her was Daniel, his arm supporting Madison. When she saw me, her knees crumpled and only Lucy’s quick grab kept her from collapsing.

“Bring her inside,” I said, stunned. I told the policeman to wait in his car, then stepped aside and allowed Daniel and Lucy to guide Madison to the sofa in the living room. She collapsed with a groan. I noted a bruise on her chin, dusty streaks under her eyes, and blood-caked scratches on her bare arms and legs. There were no other visible signs of damage, but I was not a trauma specialist.

“What happened to her?” I asked Daniel.

Lucy came around him. “We don’t know. We found her under our deck, whimpering. I wanted to take her to a hospital, but she insisted we bring her here.”

“Silly girl got damned hysterical about it,” Daniel said huffily.

“I don’t think she’s been … well, sexually abused,” Lucy said in a low voice, glancing at Madison. “I’ve seen enough television shows to know the symptoms. Her underclothes are intact and she doesn’t have any bruising that might indicate …”

“Could I have some water?” asked Madison in a weak voice, then rolled over and buried her face between the throw pillows.

Daniel snorted as Lucy dashed toward the kitchen. “She ought to be examined by a professional, be tested and all that.”

“She was under your deck?” I said. “How long had she been there?”

“Not long. Late yesterday afternoon when we got back from viewing property, we sat on the deck and had a few cocktails with Gary. All we heard was cursing from the golfers and birds in the woods. We went to the clubhouse for brunch this morning, so it’s possible she crawled under the deck during the night. Shouldn’t you at least call a doctor?”

“Doctors don’t make house calls,” Lucy said as she returned with a glass of water. She looked down at Madison, who was snuffling into the pillows. “My nonprofessional diagnosis is that she’s suffering from shock and exhaustion. All she needs is rest and plenty of liquids. Why don’t we get her upstairs and in bed?”

I shook my head. “I should call Lieutenant Rosen. I’m certain he’ll want to question her.”

Lucy crossed her arms. “She’s in no condition to be questioned until she’s had some rest. She was nearly incoherent when we found her, and her condition hasn’t improved. If he storms in and badgers her, she may fall apart completely. She’s already asleep. I suggest we leave her for at least a little while before she’s subjected to a brutal interrogation.”