1 Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun (23 page)

ON THE WAY To Emil's studio, I called Zachary Barnes. "Sorry to
disturb you," I said after introducing myself over the phone.

"Calling to make sure I'm still not backing out of the apartment?"

"I'm usually not such a worry-wart. As you now know, life kind
of flew off into Bizarro Land lately."

"More so than you let on last night?"

"Exactly what else besides belly buttons did my family tell you
last night?"

"Something about a dead body."

As much as I'd wanted to keep the boys from hearing about
Marlys's death and my involvement in it, our forefathers had written in that annoying Article in the Bill of Rights about freedom of
the press. Marlys's murder had made both the New Jersey and New
York papers. I'd been mentioned as having discovered the corpse.
Overnight my kids became school celebrities because their mother had stumbled across a dead body in her office. It's amazing what
will boost a teenager up the ladder of popularity.

Only time would tell whether I'd be listed among Westfield's
famous or infamous residents. We had them both-cartoonist
Charles Addams of Addams Family fame and John List, a man
who'd brutally murdered his family in the early seventies and
eluded capture for nearly twenty years.

"Hey, don't worry," said Zack. "I believe in innocent until
proven guilty."

Which meant last night Mama had probably said something
about me being a suspect. "Good to know."

"Is that why you called?"

"In a way. I was wondering if you'd ever dated Marlys Vandenburg."

"Running out of suspects?"

"How did you-?"

"You left your Who Killed Marlys list on the table in the apartment. I saw it when I was jotting down measurements last night."

Since I was now certain between my bigmouthed sons and my
bigmouthed mother, Zachary Barnes knew plenty already, I filled
in the few blanks left, including about the photo the cops had
found. At this point, what did I have to lose?

"I don't know what to believe about Karl anymore," I said, "but
I find it hard to believe he was having an affair with Marlys Vandenburg."

"You think someone's framing you?"

"Exactly."

"And how do I fit into this?"

"I thought if you had dated Marlys, you might be able to give
me some insights to help me clear myself. Or find the real killer."

"Wish I could. Never met the woman. I photograph wildlife,
not the wild life."

"What about your night life?"

"What about it?"

"According to the gossip columns, you frequented the same
clubs."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to believe everything
you read, Anastasia Pollack?"

"But-"

"I did tell you those were all staged photo ops, didn't I?"

"Right. I just thought maybe-"

"I'm not the club type. Unless it's a golf club. Or a club sandwich. Believe it or not, I never dated any of those women I was
photographed with. None of them are my type."

"Oh"

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Okay, so part of me had hoped that Zachary Barnes would pull
a name out of his hat and hand me a killer. However, another part
of me was glad he'd never fallen under Marlys's spell. But I chalked
that feeling tip to pre-menstrual scrambled hormones and lack of
REM sleep. And a sorely battered ego that still needed a bit of
stroking.

If it wasn't, I didn't want to know what it was because there was
also the tiniest part of me smiling over the fact that Zachary
Barnes didn't date those women.

And where the hell had that come from?

Two hours later I stood in the hall outside Emil's studio. Throughout the train ride into Manhattan I had pondered how I'd approach Gina, but I still had no idea what to say to her or how to
say it without causing either her suspicions or hackles to rise. I'd
have to wing it.

Ratcheting up my courage, I reached for the doorknob and
opened the door.

Gina jumped up from her desk chair and greeted me with an
ear-to-ear grin. "Anastasia! Look who's back." She turned to a GQ-
esque stud with spiked black hair and a fine layer of fashion stubble covering his jaw.

Dressed head-to-toe in black jeans and a black turtleneck, he
sat in what looked like a trash-picked folding chair alongside the
battered desk. A pair of black framed glasses perched on the tip of
his nose. He sized me up in the way that men who know they're
God's gift to the double-X chromosome eye women.

"I'm so relieved," said Gina. She grabbed one of his hands in
both of hers and graced him with a smile of unabashed adoration.
His lips thinned into a tight line as he pulled his hand out from
under hers.

"Emil Pachette?" I asked.

He rose. "Oui, and you are?"

Gina introduced me. "This is Anastasia Pollack. She works with
my cousin Erica. You know? Marlys's assistant? Erica and Anastasia
helped try to find you yesterday."

"I told you I wasn't lost, ma chere" He spoke in an affected
French accent that could only fool Gina or someone from a galaxy
far, far away.

Gina flushed; her voice rose into a high pitched whine. "But I
didn't know that, Emil. Not then. What was I supposed to think?
You didn't call, didn't answer your phone." She shuddered and
gulped back a sob. "You could have been dead. Like Marlys"

"Do you know the police have an APB out on you, Mr. Pachette?"

He waved his hand as if shooing away a dust mote. "No more."

"You've spoken with them?"

"Oui"

"It was all a huge mix-up," said Gina. "Emil didn't even know
Marlys was dead until earlier today."

Emil rose from his chair and sauntered over to a second folding chair sitting beside the cutting table. He dragged the chair over
to the desk and indicated I sit on it.

"You look like a woman with a million questions on the tip of
your tongue, ma chere."

Only a million? My mind swirled. "So where were you since
Monday afternoon? Minnesota, perhaps?"

He spun around and glared at Gina.

"I didn't tell her! I swear!"

"She didn't," I assured him. "But how about dropping the faux
French accent and coming clean?"

He sighed. "First," he said, "you must promise not to divulge
my secret to anyone."

"Is this secret illegal?"

His jaw dropped, his eyes grew wide in mock horror. "Mais,
non!"

Gina jumped in to defend her love. "Emil wouldn't do anything
illegal."

His glare pierced her with a warning expression that told me
Gina's ardor for her boss fell far short of being reciprocated.

"Well?" he asked me.

I slipped out of my coat and sat down. "As long as it's nothing
illegal, you have my word."
"

I can assure you I've broken no laws." He took his seat and
crossed one leg over the other. "My real name is Edwin Peepers."

"Why the deception?"

"Would you spend three thousand dollars for a designer gown
from The House of Peepers?"

"I see your point." Although from what I had spied of Emil'sor Edwin's-couture, I wouldn't shell out three dollars for one of
his dubious creations.

He raised his arm and waved it in an overly dramatic flourish,
like some minor prince casting a crumb of information to a
knowledge-starved dolt of a peasant. "Emil Pachette is my fashion
nom de plume."

"Along with the phony accent by way of Horse Thief Falls,
Minnesota?"

His arm and his jaw dropped simultaneously. Along with his
phony accent. "How did you-?"

I didn't bother to explain. "I'm betting you've never even been
to France."

He sighed and shook his head. "Only in my dreams."

"So what happened?"

In upper Midwestese, he continued. "Late Monday morning
while I stood on line at the corner deli, waiting for a sandwich, I
received a call that my parents were involved in a head-on collision. The call from the hospital said they were both in the Critical
Care Unit and not expected to live. I rushed home to pack a bag,
then grabbed the next flight out of La Guardia."

"And didn't bother to tell anyone?"

His features hardened. "Business was the last thing on my
mind."

"So Marlys didn't know not to expect you to show up for your
date with her?"

"Meeting," muttered Gina.

He shot her a glance but continued to speak to me. "If your
parents were close to death, would you remember to cancel a dinner date?"

So why was he now back here so soon after the accident? I
would have thought he'd be busy making funeral arrangements,
dealing with lawyers. "Did your parents pull through? Are they all
right?"

He laughed. "Oh, they're fine. Never better, as a matter of fact."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I. Except that some creep has a sick sense of
humor. He not only scared the shit out of me, he sent me on a wild
goose chase through the worst blizzard to hit northern Minnesota
in over a decade."

He stood and paced across the cramped room. "My plane was
the last to touch down in Duluth before the airport closed. I rented
a car and drove six hours through a blinding snowstorm. When I
finally arrived at the hospital, guess what I discovered?"

"What?"

He spun around, his arms akimbo. "They'd never heard of my
folks!"

"Were they at another hospital?"

"There are no other hospitals within a hundred-mile radius. I
tried calling them at home, but by then all the phone lines were
down."

"What about cell phones? Don't they have one?"

"Cell phones?" He spit out a wry snicker. "Horse Thief Falls
isn't exactly the Manhattan of Minnesota. The entire county is a
dead cell area. It took me another hour to drive what should have
taken ten minutes to get to their house. I found them snuggled
under quilts, roasting marshmallows in front of the fireplace."

"There was no accident," said Gina.

"Obviously," sneered Emil/Edwin. "Anyway, the roads finally
got plowed late yesterday, but the power didn't come back on until
this morning. The phone lines are still down. I was stuck in that
godforsaken middle of nowhere, freezing my butt off, all that time.
No phone. No cable. No Internet. And stuck with two doddering
old fools who thought it was all a grand adventure."

Emil/Edwin, the devoted son, had learned he was a wanted
man when the Duluth police pulled him aside as he tried to board
a pre-dawn flight back to New York earlier today. Two hours of
interrogation later, his steel-clad alibi removed him from the list of
suspects.

"When I learned of Marlys's murder, I figured someone wanted
me out of the way Monday night," he added, almost as an afterthought.

But who? My list of suspects had dwindled down to a precious
few. All I had left were Naomi and Hugo, neither of whom I believed capable of murder.

Or Gina?

I studied her as she gazed longingly at Emil/Edwin. Was it possible Gina had sent him off to the hinterlands in order to rid herself of the competition in his absence? His reactions to her led me
to discount her version of his relationship with Marlys.

I'd bet my last nickel-and that's about all I had left in the way
of available funds at this point-that Emil Pachette/Edwin Peepers, like many before him, had fallen hard and heavy for Marlys.

A quick glance at the muscle defined by his form-fitting garb,
revealed all too clearly what Marlys had seen in Emil/Edwin. And
it wasn't his talent as a designer.

I wondered if Gina had known that her sophisticated Parisian
boss really hailed from the rural Midwest. Yesterday she'd been so
adamant about his French connection. "You knew, didn't you?" I
asked her.

"About what?"

"Emil's true identity."

Her body grew rigid, her voice defensive. "So?"

"So why did you lie to us?"

"To protect Emil's reputation."
"

I see" I stood to leave. "Well, I'm glad you're safe and sound," I
said to Emil. "Nice meeting you."

"You will keep my secret." He said it more as a threat than a
need for assurance.