A Catered Thanksgiving, page 25
Bernie went over and took a look. “I guess the kid had a ferret as a pet.”
“How do you know that?”
Bernie made fanning motions in the air with her hands. “The vibes are strong with me.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously.” Bernie pointed to the box, half hidden by the cage, that said FERRET FOOD. “That’s how.”
“You don’t have to gloat.”
“I’m not gloating. I’m rejoicing.”
“Let’s just drop the subject, shall we?”
“Fine with me.” Bernie couldn’t help smiling as she turned and studied the walls.
Alma’s son had nailed pictures of football and basketball players cut from newspapers and magazines up on three of the walls, while the fourth wall was covered with photos of Mexican beach resorts and ruins.
“I guess he’s getting to see them now,” Bernie commented as her gaze swept over them and onto the empty bags of food that were strewn by the bed.
“One can only hope,” Libby said. She looked at the food on the floor. There were half-empty potato chip bags, empty soda cans, empty bags of dehydrated Hawaiian chicken and noodles, and a plate from downstairs with the remains of turkey, cranberry sauce, corn-bread stuffing, and green beans. “I guess Geoff was camping out here,” she said as she spied a rolled-up sleeping bag in the corner.
Bernie went over and unrolled it and shook it out. It smelled of unwashed bodies, but there was nothing in it.
“What were you looking for?” Libby asked.
Bernie shrugged. “I don’t really know. Anything.”
Libby went through the drawers. Tees, shirts, pants, briefs, hoodies, and socks were all crammed in together in no particular order.
“Nothing.” Libby straightened up. Her hands were cold, and she flexed her fingers, then rubbed her palms together to get the circulation going while studying the square cut in the Sheetrock that served as an entrance to what Libby presumed to be the rest of the attic. “I wonder what’s in there.”
“Only one way to find out,” Bernie said. And she walked through the opening.
Libby followed a moment later. “It looks like our attic,” she said, assessing the boxes of old clothes, the mattresses, bed frames, and rolled-up rugs. A persistent odor of mildew and decay hung over the room, probably, Libby reasoned, because there was a leak somewhere in the roof.
Bernie walked over to a large armoire. “I wonder what’s in here,” she said.
“Probably more junk.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” And Bernie opened the door.
Chapter 39
Bernie blinked. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It looked like one of those Halloween tableaus her neighbor down the street liked to set up on his lawn. Only this was real. Geoff was pinned to the back of the armoire with his samurai sword.
“I guess we don’t have to look for Geoff anymore,” Bernie said when she got her voice back a moment later.
Libby didn’t answer. She was still in shock. She just stared at Geoff, and he stared back at her.
Bernie frowned. “I’ll say one thing. This has certainly been a morning of surprises. First Alma’s son and now Geoff.”
“I just hope this is the last of the lot,” Libby said.
“God, me too.”
“So when Geoff ran away…”
“He came up here. Which is why we couldn’t find him.”
“And someone was waiting for him.”
“Or he discovered someone up here who didn’t want to be discovered, or someone came up and found him here.”
“So all the time we were looking for him, he was”—Libby pointed to the armoire—“in there.”
Bernie chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t think it’s possible for us to tell when he was killed. But one thing is clear.”
“What’s that?” Libby asked.
“I don’t think this happened here. It would take a lot of strength to pin someone to the wall like this.”
“Okay.” Libby crossed her arms over her chest. “I can see that.”
“And he wouldn’t have died instantly. He would have struggled.”
Libby forced herself to regard Geoff’s body. “It doesn’t look as if he struggled, does it?”
Bernie shook her head. “Not at all. I think whoever did this killed him first and then pinioned him to the back of the armoire. Either that or he was so close to being dead that he didn’t have any strength left to fight. Otherwise, he would have pulled the sword out of himself. Or tried to.”
“Why do it that way? Who was going to see it?”
“That is the question, isn’t it?” Bernie said.
“I wonder if he was shot first.”
“If he was, it certainly isn’t anyplace we can see it.” And Bernie picked up a T-shirt that was lying on the floor and stepped into the armoire.
“What are you doing?” Libby asked.
“Checking to make sure Geoff wasn’t shot in the back of the head.” And with that Bernie inserted the shirt between Geoff’s head and her hand, and gently moved Geoff’s head forward. “No bullet wound,” she announced after she’d had a look. She withdrew the T-shirt. “And no blood on the shirt.”
She regarded Geoff some more, while Libby regarded her sister with an expression composed of equal parts of awe and horror.
Bernie pointed to a bruise on the side of Geoff’s throat. “I think maybe someone pressed on his carotid artery and cut off his blood flow. Then, when he was unconscious, they skewered him to the back of the armoire, closed the cabinet door, and left him to die. Want to take a look?”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Thought you would,” Bernie told her.
“I don’t do windows and I don’t do bodies. I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” Libby said.
“So you’ve told me.”
And Bernie began emptying Geoff’s pants pockets and handing the contents to her sister. Bernie found a half-eaten pack of peanut M&M’s, a wallet with Geoff’s driver’s license, two credit cards, a business card with the name of a lawyer on it, which Bernie palmed, and twenty dollars in cash in his right-hand pants pocket; and a nasal spray, two three-week-old ticket stubs to a movie house down in New York City, and a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo lighter in his left-hand pocket.
“I guess Geoff was telling the truth when he told us he smoked,” Bernie commented as she started in on Geoff’s jacket pockets.
The left-hand one contained three quarters and a couple of pennies, while the right-hand one contained a neatly folded piece of paper. Bernie unfolded it, noting as she did that the paper was the kind used in printers. Someone had cut out letters from a magazine and pasted them on the center of the page to form four words.
“Interesting,” she said, passing the paper on to Libby, who read the words, payback is a bitch, out loud.
“It certainly was in this case,” Libby commented as she studied the paper. “I didn’t think people did this kind of thing anymore,” she said as she handed the paper back to Bernie.
“Did what?” Bernie asked.
“Cut out letters and pasted them on paper. It’s not necessary now that people use computers instead of typewriters.”
“Guess our murderer is an old-fashioned kinda guy. Or gal.” Bernie folded up the paper and slipped it into her pocket along with Alma’s letter and the photo of Alma’s son. “Then he should be right up your alley, you not liking technology and all.”
“Speaking of which,” Libby said, looking down at Geoff’s belongings. “Where’s Geoff’s cell phone? Because it’s not here.”
“It isn’t, is it?” Bernie said, peeved at herself for having missed something so obvious.
Libby grinned. Now they were even.
“He must have dropped it somewhere around here.”
“It would be good to find.”
“Yes, it would,” Bernie agreed as she took the contents of Geoff’s pockets from Libby and put everything back the way she’d found it. She started to close the armoire door.
“I take it we’re leaving him for the police?” Libby asked.
“That’s the general plan. Unless you have another idea.”
“Not me.” Libby was glad not to have Geoff staring at her anymore. It made her feel guilty.
Bernie and Libby spent the next fifteen minutes trying to find Geoff’s cell phone and failing. Finally, they both decided to call it a day. The phone could be anywhere. But the effort hadn’t been wasted, because during that time Bernie began to form a hypothesis about who the murderer could be. It was slightly far-fetched, but she reasoned that far-fetched was better than nothing.
“And now I think it’s time to wake everyone up, don’t you?” Libby said as they went down the stairs to Monty’s room. She slid the door shut behind her and closed the closet door.
Bernie nodded. She was curious to see how everyone would respond to the news. So was Libby. They discussed what they were going to do and how they were going to do it as they walked down the hall. Then they began knocking on doors.
Chapter 40
It took ten minutes to get everyone up and down to the study. Bernie looked at the assembled crew. They did not look their personal best, but then she reckoned that she and Libby didn’t, either.
Libby watched Bernie watching everyone. The men looked as if they’d had a rough night’s sleep. None of them had shaved, and Bob and Audie were wearing pajama bottoms, T-shirts, and hoodies, as was Melissa, while Ralph and Perceval were wearing slacks and flannel shirts. Greta and Lexus, on the other hand, had both been dressed and had had their make-up on when Bernie and Libby had come knocking on their doors. In fact, everyone had been up except for Melissa, who had been sound asleep.
“So what’s this about?” Perceval asked.
Ralph smoothed down his hair with the palm of his hand. “It better be important.”
“It is,” Bernie said. She moved to the center of the room and made the announcement she and Libby had agreed on. They’d decided to impart their information in stages. It seemed easier to control things that way.
No one keeled over or ran from the room or jumped up and cried, “The son of a bitch deserved it,” when Bernie told everyone about Geoff. But then Libby hadn’t expected they would. In her experience most people didn’t do that kind of thing. Unfortunately.
“So Geoff didn’t kill Monty,” Perceval said.
“Probably not,” Bernie allowed.
No one said anything for thirty seconds; then Melissa started to screech.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Melissa cried.
Talk about a delayed reaction, Bernie thought as she watched Melissa’s lower lip quiver and her eyes begin to fill with tears.
“This is my fault,” Melissa said.
“What is?” Bernie asked.
Melissa snuffled in response.
“What is your fault?” Bob repeated.
Bernie thought he looked annoyed.
“Everything,” Melissa said. “The whole thing.” And she covered her face with her hands and began to sob.
“For God’s sake, Melissa,” Lexus cried. “This is bad enough without you going off the deep end. Stop sniveling and talk to us.”
This was met with a fresh bout of crying from Melissa.
“She probably has nothing to say,” Greta said. “She’s just doing this to get our attention.”
“My brother is dead,” Melissa managed to get out between sobs. “How can you talk to me like that?”
“We know what he is,” Greta said.
Perceval absentmindedly fiddled with the top button on his flannel shirt. “I don’t suppose you’ve found my cell phone, have you?” he asked Bernie.
Lexus turned on him. “What is the matter with you?” she snapped. “We’ve already established that someone has taken all of them and put them who knows where.” She shuddered. “Probably the same person that killed Geoff.” She glared at Libby and Bernie. “I thought you were going to protect us. Stand watch. Or do whatever it is you were supposed to do. Instead, look what happened. We all could have died.”
“But we didn’t,” Greta shot back. She looked at Bernie. “Is there any coffee in this place?”
Bernie nodded. “I’ll go make it.”
She could certainly use some more, that was for sure, and she wanted to give everyone a chance to calm down before she made her second announcement. She went into the kitchen, while Libby stayed behind to keep an eye on the Field family. At least, Libby thought, it had stopped snowing. Which meant the police should be here soon. Hopefully, they’d have some answers for them when they arrived.
Bernie reappeared fifteen minutes later with a tray full of coffee things. By that time Melissa’s sobs had been reduced to quiet snuffles. Bernie waited until everyone had helped themselves to the coffee and had settled down. Then she dropped her second bomb.
“Monty had a son with Alma,” she said, watching everyone’s reaction.
“That’s ridiculous,” Lexus said.
“Total nonsense,” Ralph said.
“Absolutely,” Perceval agreed.
“Why do you say that?” Greta asked.
Bernie took out the letter and read it aloud.
“So what?” Perceval said. “Alma was bothering him. That’s all that letter says. The part about Monty mistreating Alma’s son is absurd. How could you possibly get that he was Monty’s son from that? No wonder he called INS on her. I would have, too.”
Bernie handed him the photograph of Alma’s son.
“What do I need to look at this for? It isn’t as if I haven’t seen the kid before.”
“Notice the chin,” Bernie said.
“So?”
“It recedes slightly.”
“So do a lot of other people’s.” And he handed the photo to Ralph.
“I have to agree with my brother. Lots of people have chins like that,” Ralph remarked before handing the picture on to Lexus.
“What’s your point?” Lexus said.
Greta nibbled on her lower lip. “Do you think the kid killed Geoff and Monty?” she asked Bernie.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Ralph snapped. “The INS got both of them. They came to the house.”
“Were you here?” Greta asked.
“No. I was down at the bunker, working, which is something that some of us do from time to time.”
“Then how do you know?” Greta insisted.
“Melissa told me,” Ralph replied.
Greta turned to Melissa. “Well?” she asked her.
Melissa opened her mouth and closed it and started sobbing again.
“Stop it!” Greta yelled.
“I can’t,” Melissa said. “I can’t. I’ll never forgive myself. Never.” Which brought on a fresh bunch of sobs. Only now she was hiccuping as well.
Bernie knelt in front of her and took her hands. “Did you know that Alma’s son was your half brother?”
Melissa raised her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.
“How did you know?”
“He…he…told me. It was our secret.”
“Did he tell Geoff, too?”
Melissa shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that. He hated him.”
“Why?”
Melissa looked down at the floor.
Bernie let go of Melissa’s hands, took out the note she’d found in Geoff’s pants, and showed it to Melissa. “Do you know what this means?” she asked.
Melissa bit her lip and nodded.
“What?” Lexus screamed.
Melissa shrank into herself.
Libby held up her hand. “Lexus, give her a minute and she’ll answer, won’t you, Melissa?”
“I have to go to work,” Melissa said in a barely audible voice.
“Please answer the question,” Libby said.
Melissa stared straight ahead. “They need me at the hospital.”
“I’m sure they’ll be able to manage until you can get there,” Bernie told her.
Melissa swallowed. “It was the ferret,” she finally said.
Everyone had to lean in to hear.
“What ferret?” Perceval said.
“The one that Roberto was keeping.”
“Here? In this house?” Libby asked.
“Impossible,” Perceval said. “I never saw it.”
“You never saw lots of things. He had it upstairs in his room. We used to play with it.”
“And,” Libby prompted when Melissa fell silent.
“And then one day it bit Geoff and Geoff told our dad.” Melissa stopped.
“So Monty got rid of it?” Libby asked.
Melissa nodded. “It was bad.”
“How bad?” Libby asked.
Melissa bit her lower lip so hard that Libby could see the tooth marks on it.
“Go on,” Bernie urged.
Melissa nodded again. “He stomped on it with his boot, and he made Roberto watch. Gracie was his most favorite thing in the whole world.”
“What did Alma do?” Libby asked.
“Alma didn’t do anything. She told him she couldn’t. That he should have been more careful.”
Bernie straightened up. “That’s awful, but I still don’t see how your dad’s and your brother’s deaths are your fault.”
“Because I helped him.”
“You helped Roberto?” Libby asked.
“Yes.”
“What do you mean, you helped him?” Bernie said. “You helped him kill your father and your brother?”
“No,” Melissa cried. Two small red blotches appeared on both of her cheeks. “I helped Roberto hide from the INS. I helped him all the time he was here. I brought him food.”
“Even after he killed your father?” Libby said.
Tears fell down Melissa’s cheeks. “I didn’t think he did that. He told me he hadn’t. I thought Lexus did.”
“How could—,” Lexus began, but Bernie shut her down with a stare.
Bernie turned back to Melissa. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know,” Melissa cried, and she got up and ran out of the room.
