Mahjonged (An Alex Harris Mystery) (26 page)

“No, he doesn’t look familiar to me at all,” Liz said, passing the picture of Mystery Man back to me. “And you found this in Penelope’s grave?” She pulled her sweater tightly around her and shivered. “That’s kind of creepy.”

“Yes, it is. Well, I also wanted to give you some papers,” I said, pulling the application and job description I had printed off the Internet. “I talked with their HR department this morning and put a good word in for you. They said if you could get the application to them in the next day or two they would get you in for an interview. I got the impression they weren’t having much luck finding the right candidate so far.”

Liz looked over the job description for a minute, pushing her hair over her ears. “Alex, thank you so much. This looks very promising. But I’ve been looking in the paper and I never saw it advertised.”

“They wanted to hire from within but I don’t think it’s working out. I think my making the call just happened at the right time.”

“Well, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. I’ll get this application completed today.”

“There’s something else I wanted to mention to you. Did you know Penelope still practiced law and it was her firm that represented Mia when her father died?”

“No, I had no idea. I don’t remember ever seeing Penelope. There was another lawyer, a man.” Liz took a sip of coffee and seemed to consider something. “Are you saying there’s some sort of connection?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. But so far nothing else makes any sense. All I have is this picture,” I said fingering the edge of the copy, “And I have no idea how it all fits together.”

No one recognized Mystery Man. Now what? Of course any one of the five suspects could have been lying or the picture had nothing whatsoever to do with anything. So this was all I had for all my efforts. Either the picture was key and someone pretended not to know Mystery Man or the picture meant nothing and I was up against a brick wall again.

Deep down I knew the picture meant something and for some reason I felt I knew what that something was but just couldn’t focus on it or work it into anything cohesive.

I went back to my office because I didn’t know what else to do.

“Any luck?” my sister asked as I came in.

“Nope. No one knows Mystery Man. At least no one is admitting they do. I guess if they did, it would be a dead give away of their guilt. I wonder if the police have released the picture we found in the grave and if the TV news people have it plastered all over?”

“I don’t watch the news,” Sam said. “Too depressing. Besides, I’m afraid I’ll see Henry on the news, doing something I had no idea he did.”

I shook my head. “He’s seven for goodness sake.”

“Yeah, and have you seen what seven-year-olds are getting up to these days?” Sam shuffled some papers on her desk. “We got two new clients this morning?”

“We did?” I asked my mood instantly brighter.

“A law firm needs a paralegal, temp to hire, and an insurance agency needs an administrative assistant for four months while theirs is out on a medical leave.”

Just then Millie came in to tell Sam her appointment had arrived. I checked my emails, did a couple of things and then told Millie I was going to get something to eat. The truth was I wanted to go over to Penelope’s. I hadn’t touched base with Els since Friday and maybe she had found more pictures.

Finding no one home at Penelope’s I drove to the center of Indian Cove and ordered a sandwich from Krueger’s Market. The market had set up an area in the corner with a few café tables and chairs and I took a seat while I waited for my order. So far no one in Krueger’s had given me a second look. I guess the rumor mill hadn’t made it this far yet.

My order ready, I asked for an iced tea and took my seat again at the tiny table. I savored my tuna salad on a croissant for a couple of bites when something caught my eye out the window. Meme and Theresa inched their way down the street, going from doorway to doorway and headed in my direction. I put my sandwich down so I could lean right up against the window for a better look.

What the heck were these two up to now? My grandparents never stopped amazing me. I could always count on Meme to stir up some sort of adventure, usually involving someone from her senior community. My grandfather, my father’s father, who lived in a rest home, always seemed to find trouble as well. After a year of pursuing Lucy McDermott, they now lived in sin, flitting back and forth from each other’s rooms after hours.

No wonder I found myself the butt of the town’s rumor mill. What with my grandparents’ penchant for getting into mischief it was only a matter of time before it trickled down to me.

Meme and Theresa were two doors down. I leaned further, my nose right against the glass, and saw a woman step out of a shop on the other side of the street. She stood there looking up and down Main Street, hands on hips. She finally turned and walked in the opposite direction while Meme and Theresa moved one doorway closer to me. When they were sure no one was looking they came out of hiding and walked passed my window.

I knocked on the glass scaring the daylights out of the two of them. Then Meme smiled up at me and they came into the store.

“Did she see us?” Meme asked me, somewhat out of breath.

“Who? The lady who came out of the shop across the street? I don’t think so,” I shook my head. “Was that Harriett? And isn’t that a lingerie store?”

“That was close,” Theresa said. She pulled out the chair across from me for Meme and took another from the table next to mine and sat down.

Meme rolled her eyes. “She’s picking out something to take on her weekend getaway. She decided to go on the houseboat with the guy I told you about. He’s in his sixties and Harriett is seventy-eight. They haven’t met yet. She’s hoping if she wears something sexy, he won’t notice how old she is.”

“Unless she plans on having it on when he picks her up, I think he’s going to figure it out.” I tried not to laugh. “And besides, if she’s looking to cover up her age, a skimpy see-through piece of clothing isn’t her best bet.”

“That’s what we tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. She wanted us to go shopping with her but I didn’t want to spend my day looking at an old lady with wrinkles through some gauzy material. What are you eating, honey? It looks real good.”

Ten minutes later I placed a liverwurst sandwich on a crusty roll in front of Meme and a ham and cheese on rye in front of Theresa.

“Meme,” I said as I took one of her chubby hands in mine, “promise me you’ll never make me watch you try on lingerie.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, honey. I went in there last week and the sales lady said they just sold the last of this hot little red number in my size and they were pretty sure it was discontinued.”

“That’s true,” Theresa nodded her agreement.

I took the last bite of my sandwich and looked out the window thanking my lucky stars for discreet sales ladies.

After I walked Meme and Theresa to Theresa’s car, I drove over to Penelope’s, this time finding Els at home. I also found a for sale sign in the front yard.

“So you’re going to sell after all?” I asked after she brought in a pot of tea. I looked around for any sight of Wilhelm and his candy, but Els said he just left to do some clothes shopping for stuff to take home to Holland.

“Nice clothing is just so expensive back home,” she explained as she poured our tea. She leaned back and looked out the large bay window to the front yard. “Yes, we are selling. Neither one of us is ready to move to America and it would be difficult to keep this place up being so far away.”

“You could always hire a management company and they could rent it out for you,” I suggested.

“Hmmm. Perhaps. If we can’t sell it for a good price that may be an option.”

I looked around the room. Most of the furniture was gone along with all the knick knacks that had been placed on shelves and tables. Els looked tired and I felt certain all the packing had taken its toll.

“I’m ready to go home, Alex. I really haven’t had any time at all to even think about Pen. She’s gone and Poppy. I just can’t believe it.” She looked like she was about to burst into tears and then she looked at me and smiled. “At least the kitchen is done. Except for the painting. Do you want to see?”

I followed her into the kitchen. The concrete counters had been finished and looked beautiful, new appliances had been placed, and I had to admit it looked good. A painter was coming in tomorrow to finish one of the walls and then it would be done.

“Bert did a good job and I told him we wouldn’t pursue Penelope’s complaint against him. I’ve been too busy to even think about it and I just want to be done with it all.” Els leaned against the counter and gave a wistful look around. We went back to the living room and I poured myself more tea.

“Els, did you happen to find any more pictures of the man?” I hated asking but she didn’t seem to mind.

“No. Nothing more. Just pictures of Penelope and Poppy. They did seem to be very happy in them and I’m sure the other man was just some fling Penelope had before she met my father.”

“And what about your mother? Did you ever find out where she’s been?”

Els laughed. “At a spa in Belgium with a friend. A week of getting pampered. All our worry for nothing. Alex, not to change the subject, but I wanted to pay you for your help the other day, with the packing.

I waved my hand thinking Sam would have a fit, but I hadn’t done very much. “No, please. It was nothing. I hardly did a thing. I was glad to help out.”

“Well, thank you. And you have been a help. I really haven’t had anyone to talk to.”

I said goodbye to Els and told her to stop by the agency before she left. I also promised to keep her informed as to the investigation, both the official one and my own.

I sat in my car for a few minutes trying to think of something to do. I’d talked with everyone and was out of ideas. And any hope of Els’ mother rushing across the Atlantic to kill Penelope now seemed dashed. I just hoped the police were doing a better job than I had been.

I needed to get a few things from my house and I hated going over there on my own, but I knew Sam had an afternoon appointment and I didn’t want to ask Millie and leave the agency unattended.

I put the car in gear and ten minutes later stopped in front of my house. The sun felt warm as I got out and the neighborhood had been cleaned of all the fallen debris. Suddenly I wanted to get back to my own home.

I walked up the path to the front door and let myself in. It didn’t seem quite as cheery inside as out, but I saw a neighbor working in her yard a few houses down and felt certain she would come running if I let out a scream.

I eyed the library door and decided the time had come to go in there. Maybe if I did I would get some sort of vibe that might help me find the killer.

I went to the kitchen and took the spare key from the junk drawer and walked to the library. I still needed to find another name for this room and the murder room was not going to cut it. Maybe it would just be another den, or an office, but we already had those rooms.

I pulled back two pieces of crime scene tape and turned the key and flicked on the light switch. Surprisingly, everything seemed to be just like the night of my party. The tables and the mahjong tiles were still in place as if everyone had just stepped out for a break. Which is actually exactly what happened. Except someone had come back in and used my cake knife to kill Penelope.

I walked around the game tables looking at all the tiles. And then I came to Penelope’s place. Blood spotted the rug but not very much. I stepped around the spots and took a look at her tiles. Then I took a look at the tiles the three other players collected. They all seemed to be working on a hand called Daft. It was a rather simple hand and everyone had most of the tiles they needed with the exception of the character suit. I walked back to Penelope’s place and took a better look at her tiles. She had collected all the characters, lined up in a neat row with one of each wind. Two tiles had fallen off the rack and I turned them over and placed them next to the others. The hand looked familiar but I couldn’t remember the name. On Friday night I worked on simple hands myself, but I vaguely remembered trying this hand when I practiced before the party.

And then I remembered it and a chill crept up my back.

I quickly went to the table where I played. I found my play book and some sheets I had printed off the Internet with some special hands. I flipped through the sheets until I came to the one I needed and sure enough, there was the hand. Snake in the Grass. That was the name of the hand. Snake in the Grass.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I said. Snake in the Grass. But wait. So what? So Penelope played a hand called Snake in the Grass. Big deal. But something wasn’t right.

I picked up my play book and looked through it again, hand by hand. I couldn’t find Snake in the Grass. It wasn’t in my book. Granted I had old play books and maybe it was added in to the newer version, but we all played with the same book. So how did Penelope know about the Snake in the Grass hand?

Of course, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just played a hand of her own creation, but then how did she expect to win if it wasn’t in the book to verify? Or maybe she just got it mixed up with another hand or wasn’t quite finished yet and was waiting for something different. There were several hands close to Snake in the Grass.

I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense and I didn’t like the name of the hand. I walked to my kitchen and took the phone out of its cradle and called my mother. “Mom, remember the night Penelope died?” I began.

“Alex, are you trying to be funny because I will never forget that night.”

“Sorry. Do you remember what hand you played right before we called a break?”

“Why, dear? Is it important? I’m right in the middle of making Henry some crepes with melted chocolate.”