Death Leaves a Bookmark (3 page)

Before he knew it, she was pulling off her sweater and shucking off her skirt. Off came her bra and panties and he was so impressed with her gleaming nudity that he wondered if he could perform. He found out almost immediately.

It was a half hour of fabulous sex. She even had a condom in her handbag! He totally forgot where he was as he enjoyed her opulent body.

When it was over, he lay back on the bed exhausted. What he really wanted now was a cigarette, even though he had given them up years ago. He was happily astonished when she removed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from that horn of plenty, her handbag. She shook out a cigarette and handed it to him.

He stuck the cigarette in his mouth. “My God,” he said, “did you plan all this? Knowing men always want a cigarette after sex?”

She only smiled, lighting his cigarette. Then she was lying next to him on the sheet, staring at him with those depthless blue eyes.

“I think you did,” he said, giving her a large smile in return.

“Do you know what
I
think?” she said.

“No. What?”

“I think you put Uncle Rodney out of his pain.” The smile hadn’t lost its strength.

“What? Jesus, that’s a terrible thing to say. I liked the old man. I could never do something like that.”

“No? Not even to split all his millions?”

He sat up on one arm, staring back at her. “No! Absolutely not! I wouldn’t have the guts to pull something off like that.” I wouldn’t have the guts? What a stupid thing to say.

“Sure you would. We just made love, Troy. You’re a very strong guy, even down there. “She poked a playful finger at him.

“Well, I didn’t. That cop will find the real killer and it certainly won’t be me.”

“You’re a little flushed, baby. What brought that on?”

He poked her gently in both breasts. “You did,
baby.
You could arouse a dead man, and you know it.”

“Maybe I could. Never tried it.”

“Well you sure got me aroused again.”

Now she raised herself on her arm. “When we’re having a serious conversation?”

“It’s not serious. It’s stupid. Get that crazy idea out of your pretty head that I did it. Columbo will undoubtedly nab the murderer.”

“I thought you said the jury was out on him.”

“Maybe he’s a little shrewder than we think. As I said, I have no experience with cops. How do we know he won’t come up with the killer?”

She was grinning. “The killer just gave me one of the best lays I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not the goddamn killer! Got that?”

She was putting her bra back on, and he was unfortunately losing sight of those lovely breasts. Maybe they would do this again even if she thought he was the murderer. And it seemed she really did, damn it.

She was slipping into her panties, one gorgeous leg at a time, which was driving him insane again. They
had
to have another session; that was imperative. Should he admit he did it? He had the strong impression that she didn’t care one way or another. God, how he had misjudged her! Little Miss Innocent with a condom in her handbag.

It was like she was reading his mind: “I don’t care if you killed the old bastard. He kept me penned up in that house for years when I could’ve been out doing what we just did. Now I’ve got my freedom and I love it.”

“I know what you mean.”

She was silent, staring at him again. Suddenly, she began firing a bunch of questions. “Is there anything Columbo could find? And what about that book you used? Are you sure you wiped all your prints off? Answer me. You did, didn’t you?”

“Yes, of course I did.”

She looked at him and smiled with satisfaction.

Christ, now he had admitted it. Wait a minute, could he back-track? How could he have done that? She could get the truth out of a politician. “Now wait a minute, just, uh, wait a minute here.”

It was truly established now that he had done it, Troy thought. Had the cop gotten her to wring out a confession from him? No way. He was positive about that, although he knew now she was as tricky as he was and maybe even more cunning.

Silence.

“Do you know when we’re going to find out about the will?” she asked.

“No.”

She was into herself now, thinking. “You know, you could strangle me now and get all the money. Have you thought of that?”

“Are you serious? Of course not.”

“When I checked in I put the wrong license number and phony names when I filled out the form. They only saw
me
in the office. And I noticed no one passed by the window to check out your car and license plate.”

He was astonished again. “You mean while we were making love?”

“When else? That didn’t mean I wasn’t having the time of my life. I’m a multi-tasker, Troy-boy.”

He shook his head. “You’re really something. My hat’s off to you.”

Sexy smile: “You had more off than your hat a short while ago.”

“You got me there. Should we drive back?”

“No. Let’s drive over to a seafood restaurant on the ocean and have another good meal. Great sex gets my taste buds flowing.”

He swung off the bed and began to get dressed. “Wonderful idea. Maybe by the time we get back we’ll be revved up for another gitgo.”

“Hmmm. Sounds yummy.”

The following morning, Columbo received a message from Marcella that she wanted to see him at her uncle’s house.

He drove over from the station not sure what to expect. Had she come up with an enemy or enemies of the deceased? His own investigation hadn’t come up with anything so far, but they had just started.

She answered his ring herself. She looked much more composed than before, wearing a jaunty blouse and full skirt. Quite a goodlooking young lady.

She took him into the living room and pointed him to a chair. “Beautiful day,” she said.

“Beautiful. Just why did you want to see me?”

“My cousin just confessed to me.”

His bland expression stayed in place. “To the murder of your uncle?”

“What else?”

“He confessed”—snapping his fingers—“just like that? Or did you have to pry it out of him?”

“We made love, lieutenant. So afterwards he was in a vulnerable condition. Besides, the fool trusted me.”

Columbo thought this over. “You made love. Were you in the habit of doing that with him?”

“No. First time. He was adequate but I let him think he was the king of seducers. You men are so easy to manipulate. He was so turned on he wanted to do it again. Right away.”

Columbo kept his eyes on her—not very hard to do. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I loved my uncle and I want his murderer brought to justice. Even if it’s my own cousin. That’s not too hard to understand, is it?”

Columbo’s scrutiny grew deeper. “No, not at all, particularly with all that money at stake. I can see why you might want your cousin out of the way.”

“You mean the inheritance? You mean I want it all instead of just half?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I was implying.”

“Did anyone ever tell you have very penetrating eyes, lieutenant?”

“I think my wife did, once. But why don’t you answer my question.”

“What was the question again?”

“Are you turning him in for the money? So you can get it all instead of just half?”

“To be honest, that could be part of it. In fact, it could be a large part of it. And I don’t want him to get away with killing my uncle. That is a definite no-no in my book.”

“Book,” he mused. “And your uncle was murdered with a book.”

“Why are you complicating things?” she asked. “I’m handing him to you on a silver platter and you’re bringing up a book. I guess Troy was right about you.”

“About what?”

“That you’re no great shakes at what you do. You think that’s true?”

Columbo shrugged. “Different people have different opinions about me. All in the game.”

“And you really don’t care what people say about you?”

“I guess not. I just do my job as I see it.”

She wasn’t satisfied, obviously getting annoyed with his lackadaisical manner. “You don’t believe he actually confessed to me?”

Columbo began opening the buttons on his raincoat. “Oh, I believe that’s a strong possibility. Although I think you’re a pretty devious person. I mean, you told me yourself how you manipulated him into confessing.”

“So why aren’t you out of here questioning the hell out of him?”

Columbo clasped the fingers of both hands around his raised knee. “Because it’s not that easy. He might have confessed to you, and he might not have, but why would he confess to me? This is what we call a ‘he said, she said’ situation. I guess you don’t have anything on tape, do you? Or anyone to corroborate it?”

“You think I carry a mini-recorder around in my handbag just in case somebody might confess to me?”

Columbo smiled. “Silly question. I’m sorry. Although you did engineer the tryst, you might also have thought to have a recorder with you.”

Her laugh was this side of sarcastic. “And another thing, lieutenant. Do you make love to your wife with other people standing around to corroborate it?”

Got him. She saw a faint flush rising from his neck to the roots of his hair. She knew instantly that she had caught him off balance and she delighted in the moment.

“Oh, no, no, no way! Sorry again. But I had to check because you never know in certain situations.”

Now she laughed just a laugh. “So you’re not going to question him? Is that it?”

“Oh, I’ll question him all right. But he might say you were in it with him.” Short beat. “And maybe you were.”

Unfazed by his supposition, she said, “Don’t worry, I can handle him. How long are you going to be clasping that knee?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” he said, lowering his leg to the ground. “I get so tied up with stuff I sometimes forget what I’m doing.”

She couldn’t help looking amused. “Okay. You know he’ll deny ever having that postcoital conversation with me. So what are you going to do when he does?”

“Keep plugging.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

Columbo got to his feet. “It means I’ve gotta come up with something that’ll stick. And I’ve got to do it before either one of you gets half of your uncle’s money.”

She was interested. “And why is that?”

“Because then either one or both of you can buy the best defense counsel in the country. The D.A. doesn’t like going up against people like that. Do you blame him?”

“Yes, I do. He wants everything nice and easy so he won’t be late for dinner? That’s not my idea of a perfect, hard-working civil servant.”

Columbo shrugged again. “Well, that’s what we’ve got. I thank you for telling me all this. I really do.”

She got up too. “My pleasure. If I need any help fending Troy off, I’ll let you know.”

Columbo wasn’t finished. “I guess if you’re the guilty party you would’ve had somebody else do it for you. A hitman, a friend, maybe even a cousin.”

“What, and leave myself open to blackmail? Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

“Oh, no, no, miss, believe me, I don’t.” He edged toward the door. “Have a nice day.”

And he was off, unbuttoned, flapping raincoat and all.

Around three that afternoon, Troy was in Columbo’s office. He had received a message after lunch that the cop wanted to see him again.

“What is it this time, lieutenant?” he asked.

“I was talking to your cousin.”

Troy tightened up. “Oh?”

“She told me something very interesting about you. That you had confessed to the murder after you two had sex.”

Troy covered up his anger at the betrayal with a big smile. “That’s right, I did.”

Columbo looked surprised. “You did?! You admit you were the perp?”

Troy appeared perfectly relaxed in his chair. “That’s what she wanted to hear more than anything else after our love making. So I took the hint and indulged her. I suddenly understood that it was to be a sex game with her. That’s what she wanted, a sex game, and that’s what she would get. It was a great ploy to make sure she would keep coming back for more. Apparently, the thought that I had killed my uncle seemed to intrigue and titillate her. A little sick, perhaps, but not criminal.”

Columbo looked surprised. “Boy, oh boy, oh boy, that is really something. That is a good one. And I gotta say that’s a new one on me. I never heard that used for slipping out of a bear-trap before. You two are really two pieces of work.”

Columbo secured both his hands on the desk and leveraged himself to a standing position. “Guess what? I don’t think it was a lie at all, Mr. Pellingham. She suspected you were the killer and you admitted it. Either that or she convinced you to kill your uncle.”

Troy stamped an angry foot on the floor. “Screw you. It was a lie to get her on her back some more, maybe plenty more. Now let’s see the color of your evidence if you’ve got any—which I know you don’t.”

“That kind of arrogance can get you in a lot of trouble, sir.”

He was not to be deterred: “I’m still waiting to see your evidence. So quit stalling.”

Columbo picked up a sheet of paper from his blotter. “You think I’d accuse you of murder just as a lark?”

Troy leaned back in the chair as if someone had pushed him. “I’m still waiting.” His voice had lost some of its conviction.

“You pushed that bookcase over on your uncle and when that didn’t do the job, you bludgeoned him to death with that book.”

“Can the suppositions. They’d get you laughed out of court.”

Columbo looked down at the sheet of paper. “This lab report isn’t a supposition.”

“So what’s in the goddamn report? This better be good.”

Columbo tossed the report back on his desk. “It was the murder book that gave you away.”

Angry disbelief: “What?”

“You see, you wiped your prints off the cover. But you still left a print on the book.”

“Where?”

Columbo picked a book up from his desk. “You see on the side where all the edges of all the pages are lined up perfectly in a block?”

He saw—and he could feel the sweat crawling in his palms.

“That’s why I had your prints taken. There was a fair to middling partial print on those lined up edges. When the pages are flipped through, the print vanishes.” He riffled through the pages. “When the book is closed, when you used it as a weapon, you inadvertently left your print on the tight block of pages.” He picked up a volume from his desk. “Here, try it with this one.”