1 Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun (22 page)

AND TO THINK, ONLY last night I'd wondered if there were more
unsavory details I had yet to learn about my husband. Extramarital affairs had not been one of them. In the bedroom and out of it,
Karl had given every indication that after eighteen years I continued to light his fire. Even if I did fake my own conflagration more
often than not.

Karl and Marlys? Even if he were cheating on me, the very notion of him with Marlys bordered on the absurd. Marlys wouldn't
give the time of day to a slightly overweight, middle-aged, folliclely
challenged auto parts salesman. Even if he did bear a striking resemblance to a balding Harrison Ford.

Come to think of it, given her track record, Marlys had probably spread her legs for the real Harrison Ford at some point. Or at
least extended the offer.

I laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

The dead-serious expressions on the detectives' faces stated
otherwise. "We don't kid when it comes to murder," said Batswin.

"This morning we received an anonymous tip," said Robbins.
"The caller asked if we'd bothered to check out the photos in Ms.
Vandenburg's apartment."

"She had quite a collection of herself with all sorts of celebrities," said Batswin.

"Hanging on every wall and covering just about every horizontal surface," added Robbins.

"So? Marlys was a publicity junkie."

"Yeah, that's what we figured at first," he said. "We really didn't
pay much attention to them when we searched the place for clues
Tuesday. Figured they were all press shots from fashion shows and
premiers and stuff."

"So we went back this morning and took a closer look," said
Batswin. She pulled a framed photograph out of her briefcase and
passed it to me. "And we discovered this on her night table."

My legs turned to overcooked rigatoni. I collapsed into my new
chair and stared at the photograph. Karl and Marlys. Looking for
all the world like lovers as they snuggled together for the camera.
A row of slot machines and a neon casino sign filled the background.

Every synapse in my brain backfired and sputtered to a halt at
the sight of my husband making goo-goo eyes at Marlys Vandenburg.

"You might want to consider hiring a lawyer, Mrs. Pollack,"
said Robbins.

My head shot up. "Are you arresting me?"

"Not yet," said Batswin.

"I didn't kill Marlys," I said. "I had no idea she and my husband
even knew each other."

Batswin cocked an eyebrow.

"I mean, they met once or twice at our annual office Christmas
party, but they never said more than two words to each other. Karl
wasn't Marlys's type. She dated minor celebrities and players. Guys
who came with big bucks and business managers and publicists."

For all I knew, she'd even dated Zachary Barnes. Maybe I
should ask him.

"Marlys wouldn't recognize Karl if they passed on the street."

"Looks to me like they knew each other real well," said Robbins.

At the thought of looming arrest, my brain kicked back into
action. Enough whining. I took a deep breath and challenged
Batswin and Robbins. "This photo doesn't prove Karl and Marlys
were having an affair, and it certainly doesn't prove I killed Marlys.
If it did, you'd arrest me now."

Batswin tapped her index finger on the glass covering the
photo. "We've already established you had the means and opportunity, Mrs. Pollack. Now we have the motive. We know your husband left you swimming in debt and at the mercy of a loan shark.
Here's why. He was living the high life with his mistress."

"You found out about the affair after his untimely death," said
Robbins, "and killed Marlys for the diamonds to get yourself out
of hock."

The Dynamic Duo had me scared shitless, but they also had
me angry, and I wasn't going to let them railroad me. I thrust the
photograph back at Batswin and jumped to my feet. "That's a
Swiss cheese theory. Full of holes and I think you both know it."

"Really?"

"Really." I raised my own index finger and waved it under
Batswin's nose. "First, if I killed Marlys for the diamonds, which I
didn't, why-as I've pointed out to you from the very beginningwould I bother to inform you of their existence? You're forgetting
that I'm the one who gave you the killer's probable motive. If I
planned to pawn the diamonds, don't you think I'd have enough
intelligence to keep my mouth shut about them?"

She said nothing. Neither did Robbins. Then I thought of
something else. I plunged forward. "How tall are you, Detective
Batswin?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Humor me."

"A tad shy of six feet," she said.

"And your weight?"

"About one sixty."

I eyed her from head to toe. "Marlys Vandenburg was near your
height but probably thirty-five or forty pounds lighter. I'm all of
five feet, two inches."

I pushed up my sweater sleeve and jiggled the flab under my
upper arm. "As you can see, I don't work out. Do you seriously
think I have the strength to lug six feet and a hundred twenty
pounds of dead weight from Marlys's office to mine, let alone haul
her up into my desk chair?"

"We're thinking you probably had an accomplice," suggested
Robbins.

"Have you found any evidence of an accomplice? Were there
rug burns or carpet fibers imbedded in her skin from this fictitious co-conspirator and me dragging her halfway across the
building?"

When they glanced at each other, I knew I'd struck a nerve.
Marlys hadn't been dragged from her office, down the hall to my
cubicle.

I continued. "Or are you proposing that we carried her that
distance? I've read my share of murder mysteries and watched
enough cop shows to know you should have some evidence to indicate how she was moved, and I'm willing to bet she was carried
by one person."

"Maybe your accomplice was a man," said Robbins. "Someone
capable of hoisting Marlys over his shoulder"

These two had already tried and convicted me in their minds.
They were too lazy to bother looking beyond the obvious, yet improbable. "Rein in the bait and tackle, Detective. You're on a fishing expedition."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, and meanwhile, the real killer skipped town. Instead of
trying to entrap me, you should be tracking down Emil Pachette.
Are you aware that no one's seen or heard from him since Monday
afternoon?"

"We have a nationwide APB out for Emil Pachette," said
Batswin.

"Then get off my back, Detective. He's your killer. Not me."

"We're exploring all leads, Mrs. Pollack. And we're thoroughly
investigating all suspects. Including you," said Robbins.

At that moment my cell phone rang. I fished it out of my purse
and glanced at the display. Private Call. Every nerve in my body
froze. Private Call had come up on Karl's cell phone when it rang
Monday morning. I took a deep breath. "This could be Ricardo."

"Answer it," said Batswin.

I pushed a button. "Hello?"

"You got the money, Sweet Cheeks?"

"I have the money."

I didn't bother to ask how he got my cell phone number. He'd
already unearthed my direct office line, my e-mail address, and my
unlisted home phone number. Chances were he even had my social security number and bank account numbers by now. Not that
they'd do him any good, considering both my savings and checking accounts had balances hovering just shy of zero.

Hell, he'd probably dug up my report cards going all the way
back to elementary school. Ricardo was nothing if not resourceful.
He'd be a real asset to the FBI and CIA if he wasn't such a sleazeball crook. Then again, for all I knew, he moonlighted as a CI for
both.

He snorted. "So, you had it all along, huh? I figured as much.
Safe deposit box, right? A little advice, Sweet Cheeks-don't try to
con a con. You're over your head and way out of your league."

"No. I ... uhm ... I borrowed the money."

"Not that I believe you, but I don't care if you had to kill for it.
Just so's I get what's mine. Now listen carefully. You take a ride up
to the Short Hills Mall. At exactly five o'clock tomorrow night you
walk into Burberry and buy one of those oversized tote things they
sell. The one that goes over the shoulder."

"Burberry?" I couldn't afford Wal-Mart, let alone Burberry.

"Yeah. The plaid crap."

"Why Burberry?"

"Cause my girl wants one."

"So buy her one with the fifty thousand dollars I'm giving you.
I can't afford a Burberry tote"

His voice lowered to an ominous growl. "You can't not afford it,
Sweet Cheeks. So you better do exactly like I say. Capisce?

I shuddered. "Fine. Burberry."

Maybe Batswin and Robbins could swing some additional cash
for this sting operation of theirs. I certainly didn't have an extra
four hundred dollars up my sleeve. Not after what I spent last
night at Home Depot on my do-it-yourself home burglar-proofing kit.

"Then what do I do?"

"You go into the little girls' room on the first level. Last stall on
the left. Place the fifty G's in the bag."

"And?"

"You wait for my call. And remember, Sweet Cheeks, you tell no
one." He hung up.

Ignoring his warning, I disconnected on my end and conveyed
the conversation to Batswin and Robbins.

"We'll bring the money here tomorrow afternoon," said
Batswin. "Meanwhile, we'll check the LUDS on your phone. Although, I'm betting this guy uses pre-paid, disposable phones."

She placed the photo of Karl and Marlys back in her briefcase
and turned to Robbins. "Let's go."

As soon as they left, I collapsed into my chair and buried my
head in my hands.

"What did those two want?" asked Cloris.

I raised my head to find her standing in the entrance to my
cubicle. Erica hovered behind her. "Just bringing more doom and
gloom. But I don't buy it. Even with everything Karl hid from me,
there's no way he could have been having an affair with Marlys."

"What?" Cloris's eyes nearly popped out of her head. She and
Erica crowded around me.

"What do you mean?" asked Erica. "What did Karl hide from
you?"

Shit! Nothing like stress and sleep deprivation to induce diarrhea of the mouth. I had wanted to keep that unsavory chapter of
my widowhood out of the office gossip mill. I looked to Cloris for
help.

"Cat's out of the bag now," she said. "You might as well tell her."

So I did. Reluctantly. And only after swearing Erica to secrecy.

"I promise," she said.

I omitted all the gory details. "After my husband died, I discovered he had a gambling problem. He left behind quite a bit of
debt."

"That's terrible," she said. "I'm so sorry, Anastasia. I wish I
could help."

"You can help by keeping your mouth shut about it," said Cloris.

Erica cringed as if Cloris had slapped her. "I already promised
Anastasia I wouldn't say anything."

"Just don't forget." Cloris turned back to me. "Now what's all
this about Marlys and Karl?"

"Batswin and Robbins found a photo of the two of them." I
went on to explain the detectives' new theory. "Maybe Karl was
cheating on me," I said. "He certainly deceived me about everything else. But not with Marlys. What would she see in him?"

"It's not like he could help advance her career," said Erica.

"And we all know that's the only reason Marlys put out for anyone," added Cloris. "Have you considered the possibility that the
photo was doctored?"

I had. "I suppose anyone with a little knowledge of Photoshop
could have switched Karl for whomever was originally photographed with Marlys."

"But where would that person get a photo of Karl?" she asked.

The strobe light in my head flashed on, forcing my brain into
overdrive. "He took it when he broke into my house last night."

I slapped my hand on the table. "Batswin and Robbins didn't
notice the photograph on Tuesday because whoever is trying to
frame me didn't plant it in Marlys's apartment until sometime
yesterday."

"So who's trying to frame you?" asked Cloris. "Emil Pachette?"

"Maybe"

"Or someone trying to protect Emil Pachette." She stared
pointedly at Erica.

"You can't mean Gina!" Erica glared back at Cloris. "Gina
wouldn't do something like that."

"She was hiding something," said Cloris. "It doesn't take a
rocket scientist to have figured that out yesterday."

"No, you've got her all wrong," said Erica. "She's just worried
about Emil. Gina would never harm anyone."

"Not even to protect the man she loves?" asked Cloris.

I held up my hands to stop them before they came to blows. "If
Gina broke into my house and stole a photo of Karl, she did it before we spoke with her yesterday. It doesn't add up. She first met
me last night."

"But she knew about you," said Cloris. She turned to Erica.
"Didn't she?"

Erica stared at the floor. She twisted her fingers into pretzel
knots and mumbled, "I did tell her about the murder and Anastasia
finding Marlys's body glued to her chair." She lifted her head and
turned puppy dog eyes to me. "I've known Gina all my life. She
wouldn't do this to you. To anyone. It's got to be someone else."

I wasn't so sure. Some women would do anything for love, and
Gina struck me as so head-over-heels gone when it came to Emil
Pachette that she might be capable of anything. Even an accessory
to murder. I decided to have another chat with Gina, but without
Erica or Cloris.