Dying in Style (16 page)

“Yes,” Josie said.

“Why do you think you flunked the test?” Alyce said.

“Because I was scared and hungover,” Josie said.

“Did you tell the examiner you were hungover?”

“No,” Josie said.

“That was a mistake, but we won’t go into that now. After they read you your rights today did you say anything?”

“No,” Josie said.

“Good.”

“But they read me my rights last night, too. I don’t know if that counts for today or not.”

“Me, either,” Alyce said. “The Miranda class was at three thirty and Jake never missed it. Well, we’ll say they don’t count today. Most lawyering is bluffing.

“Did you say anything during the pretest? Jake has a lot of corporate clients, and they make their employees take these lie detector tests. The actual polygraph is beside the point. They nail you with the pretest admissions. For instance, a company may ask you to take a lie detector test about drug use on the job. In the pretest they’ll say, ‘Now, so we don’t get a false positive on the actual test, have you ever used any drugs outside the office?’

“You say, ‘I smoke a little weed on the weekends.’ Bingo, they’ve got you. You didn’t use drugs at work, but they can say you admitted that you use illegal drugs. Did you tell the examiner anything during the pretest?”

“Just that I set fire to a pile of doggy doo on Mrs. Mueller’s porch when I was fifteen,” Josie said.

Alyce did not laugh, and this worried Josie.

“Okay, we’re forewarned,” Alyce said. “You tried on that snakeskin belt at the store, right? Is that how you got your fingerprints on it?”

“Yes,” Josie said.

“Then we’re ready. Let’s go.”

Alyce knocked on the door, and the two detectives took them to a coffinlike box of a room with a brushed-steel table. Josie and Alyce sat on one side of the table, the two detectives on the other.

“You failed your polygraph test, Ms. Marcus,” Detective Yawney said. She was no longer Josie. All trace of his devilish charm was gone.

Josie opened her mouth to speak. Alyce stamped hard on her foot, which distracted Josie from the pain in her head.

“Polygraph test results are not admissible in court,” Alyce said. “There’s a reason for that. We can take our own polygraph if you want when my client is feeling better.”

“If she was sick, why didn’t she say something? It’s one of the questions our examiner asks.”

“I—” Josie said. Alyce stamped on her foot again.

“My client was afraid it would prejudice you against her. Now, if that’s all you have—”

“By her own admission, your client has a history of revenge and violent acts,” Detective Yawney said. “She admits setting a fire when she became angry at a neighbor.”

“She was fifteen. Setting fire to a bag of dog waste is a common teenage prank. Did the neighbor report this alleged fire to the authorities?”

“Juvenile records are sealed,” Detective Yawney said.

“I know that,” Alyce said. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“No,” Yawney said.

Alyce was good, Josie thought. Why was she wasting her time on charity boards? She should be arguing before the Supreme Court. But Josie knew the answer. It was the same reason she was traipsing through malls. Because she liked it.

“The mall security cameras had her going into the Danessa store at nine fifty-two and coming out at nine fifty-seven,” Detective Yawney said.

This time Josie didn’t say a word.

“What about the cameras in the Danessa store?” Alyce said.

“Uh, they didn’t have any film,” the handsome detective said. “But a cell phone call at ten oh two places your client in the vicinity of Plaza Venetia.”

“My client has already admitted being at Plaza Venetia that evening,” Alyce said. “The cell phone call shows Ms. Marcus is telling the truth. She told you how her fingerprints got on that belt, detective. Were her prints only on the clasp, or were they in a position consistent with manual strangulation?”

“You know we can’t tell you that,” Detective Yawney said.

“That’s what I thought. They were on the clasp,” Alyce said. “The FBI tells me that Serge Orloff was selling nuclear arms to terrorists. They think one of his clients may have killed him and Danessa.”

Thank goodness for the housekeeper mafia, Josie thought.

“You know my client isn’t in the running for this murder, detectives. Are you going to charge her?” Alyce asked.

“Not at this time, Counselor. But tell her not to leave town.”

“She understands. I hope you understand the legal consequences for damaging the reputation of a blameless working mother. Come along, Ms. Marcus. Good day, officers.”

Josie followed her friend out. In the parking lot, she threw her arms around Alyce. “You were magnificent. You should go to law school. You’d make a terrific attorney.”

“This isn’t about me,” Alyce said. “I’ve got the police off your back for the moment. Now we need to decide what to do next. Why don’t you buy me lunch at Spencer’s Grill?”

Tactful Alyce, Josie thought. Spencer’s Grill is one place I can afford to take her.

The classic diner was on the Old Route 66, in downtown Kirkwood. Its fantastic neon thirties clock sign was a local landmark. Inside, the Grill’s main room had six booths and a counter. The day’s special was from another era: Salisbury steak, green beans and cottage cheese.

“I can see Jimmy Stewart eating here. And Judy Garland,” Josie said.

“Doesn’t say much for the food,” Alyce said. “They’re all dead.”

Josie started giggling. Alyce did, too, and then they couldn’t stop until the waitress showed up at their table with her order pad.

“Glad someone is having fun today. What can I get you ladies?”

Josie realized she was starving. She’d drained her water glass like she’d hiked the Sahara. She ordered a cheeseburger, fries, a Coke and coffee. The Coke came in a red plastic glass big enough to hold a dozen roses. Alyce had coffee only. She was still dieting.

“I really want to thank you,” Josie said. “Where did you learn to talk back like that?”

“I told you. I’m on all these charity boards. I was one of the few women on this board with a bunch of doctors. I was supposed to be the citizens’ advocate. One board member lived in my subdivision. He proposed me because he thought I was a mouse.

“It was a two-year term. The first year the doctors bullied me. My stomach clenched whenever I went to the meetings.”

Josie’s burger and fries arrived and her stomach did a happy little
sproing
. The waitress filled her cup. Josie nearly swooned at the smell of coffee. She was going to live after all.

“The second year I got some backbone,” Alyce said. “After all, I was supposed to be representing the patients as an average person. The first time I spoke up, the doctors looked as if the potted plant had talked. They tried to browbeat me, but I didn’t back down. After that, it was easy. The docs couldn’t shoot me. I figured the worst that could happen was they’d throw me off the board—and that was fine with me. I quit being so afraid and started getting invited to serve on more boards. On another, we had to oust the board president. After you shout down twenty people, two detectives are easy.”

Josie didn’t think there was anything easy about Yawney and Waxley, but she was too busy wolfing down her food to say so. The patient waitress kept their coffee cups full.

“People make fun of clubwomen like me,” Alyce said. “But it’s good training. We know how to handle ourselves.”

Poor Alyce, Josie thought. She could stand up to anyone except her husband. But Alyce had already explained why she wasn’t afraid of the others—they had no power over her. Jake controlled their son and their money.

“This is my board suit.” Alyce patted her pinstripes. “What do you think?”

“Very serious,” Josie said.

“The briefcase is an old one of Jake’s. Since we’re being serious, what are we going to do about you?”

“I have to find out who killed Danessa,” Josie said.

Alyce laughed. “Great idea. Why not fix the economy and bring peace to the Mideast while you’re at it?”

“Look, I know if it’s terrorists the feds will find Serge’s killer,” Josie said. “But I don’t think that’s who killed Danessa, or she would have died with Serge. She was strangled with her own belt, in her own store, by someone she let get close enough to put it around her neck. That’s personal. It happened in my territory—in a mall and in a shop. Nobody understands stores and shopping better than I do. I’ve got the police beat on that count.”

Josie bit into a crisp, salty fry, and the conversation stopped. She pushed her plate toward Alyce. “Try these,” she said. “They’re a religious experience.”

“Maybe one,” Alyce said.

The fries went faster than iPods at Christmas. When there was nothing but salt crystals left on her plate, Josie said, “Danessa had a knack for making enemies, but she also knew how to play to the press. Since she was the darling of the media, they never reported her rages. She must have fired or threatened employees or customers. Once she was crossed, Danessa couldn’t control that temper. I saw her in full rage. It was scary. Believe me, when she finished screaming, you wanted to kill her.”

“Makes sense,” Alyce said. “So what’s your plan?”

“Visit all the Danessa stores. Try to find Marina and talk to Olga.”

Alyce sloshed coffee into her saucer. “Are you nuts? You want to go back to Plaza Venetia?”

“It’s the only way,” Josie said. “Besides, it’s like your charity boards. The worst they can do is throw me out.”

“I’d better go with you,” Alyce said. “You may need a lawyer. I’ll pick you up at eight thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Make it nine-thirty. I have to take Amelia to school. Omigod! What time is it?” She looked at her watch. “Two twenty-five! I can’t believe it. I’ve got to call Mom.”

Josie dug in her purse for her cell phone. She must have turned it off at the police station. She had fourteen calls from her mother and six from her boss. She called Jane first.

“Josie, where are you?” her mother said. “What good are all those fancy functions on that overpriced cell phone if you don’t turn it on? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Something bad has happened.”

Fear gripped Josie’s heart. “What’s wrong, Mom? Is Amelia okay? Are you all right?”

“It’s that terrible person you work for. Harry. He says you have to call right now. He was so rude.”

“I’ll call him, Mom, and kick his fat fanny. I’m on my way to pick up Amelia. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.” She clicked off her phone.

“What is it?” Alyce said.

“My boss, Harry. He’s making trouble for Mom. I better call him now.”

“Your mouthpiece is standing by,” Alyce said. Before Josie could punch in Harry’s number, her cell phone rang.

“Where have you been?” her boss said. His voice was oozing trouble. “The cops were here again. They said you flunked your lie detector test and you were at the mall when Danessa was killed.”

“Can they tell you that?” Josie asked.

“They just did,” he said.

“Lie detector tests are not admissible in court,” Josie said.

“Neither is Section 131-B,” Harry said. “You lied about that. I checked with the company lawyers. I am hereby placing you on unpaid administrative leave. If and when your name is cleared, I’ll rehire you.”

“But—”

Alyce grabbed the phone from Josie. “This is Alyce Bohannon, counsel for Josie Marcus. I heard you yelling at my client. Are you her supervisor? Good. I’ve been in touch with the FBI. They believe Serge and Danessa were killed by terrorists. You will not place her on unpaid leave. You will put her on paid leave. Paid leave. Do you understand? If and when she is arrested, which the police tell me will not happen, we will reconsider her employment status. In the meantime, you are looking at one fat lawsuit.”

Josie could hear Harry yelling. “Paid leave,” he screamed. “No way. I’m not paying her to do nothing. She can work if she wants to be paid.”

“Fine,” Alyce said.

Josie heaved a sigh of relief.

“She’ll work the dregs, I tell you,” Harry shouted. “The dregs.”

“If she’s working for you, she’s used to that,” Alyce said, and snapped the phone shut.

Chapter 16

The Danessa store at Plaza Venetia was in mourning.

The Lucite stands were draped in sheer black silk, like widows’ veils. The purses in warm winter reds and gaudy summer-sale shades were gone. Everything displayed was dead black.

“Should I be wearing this red suit?” Josie had on her resale-shop Escada with the gold braid, the one that made her feel like a doorman.

“Why not?” Alyce said. “I’m wearing green, and that woman at the counter looks like the Great Pumpkin in orange. She’s even heavier than I am. It’s a store, not a funeral home.”

But it felt like a wake.

The shop was overflowing with flowers from Danessa worshipers. There was everything from a single grocery-store rose in green paper to bouquets suitable for a mob funeral. Flower arrangements spilled out the door and were lined up in front of the store, along with teddy bears, Russian dolls and a pink Danessa purse filled with violets. Josie recognized the color as last season’s.

“This is creepy,” Josie said. “The last time I was here, Danessa was dead in the back room.”

“At least there aren’t any snakeskin belts out,” Alyce said.

Black-clad customers carrying Danessa purses stood in little groups. Josie could hear scraps of conversation:

“—donated ten thousand dollars. Danessa was so generous.”

“She and Serge showed up in matching full-length sable coats. Fur is terribly politically incorrect, but they looked like movie stars. Serge said that in his country fur—”

“—won’t be the same without her.”

What won’t be the same, Josie wondered: the city, the charity scene, or the Danessa stores?

All three, she decided.

The basket of autographed Danessa photos had been replaced by a single black-draped portrait flanked by bouquets of lilies. Danessa looked shining, surreal, untouchable. It was as if the screaming harridan who’d rushed into Harry’s office never existed. Danessa was becoming an icon, the retail Princess Di.