The sun gleamed off the water in the tiny lake, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from a passing paddleboat. Birds sang with all their might hidden from view by the lush greenery of the many trees and bushes. In the water children laughed and splashed each other from their boats while an ice cream truck dispensed luscious concoctions to those remaining on dry land. It was one o’clock and the city was in full swing.
“I guess we’re heading home without knowing who killed Martine,” Sam said.
“Wanda promised to keep us informed, but I doubt she will now. Poor Wanda,” I said. “Do you think we should stop by and see her before we leave?”
“I don’t think so,” John said. “I saw her yesterday as I was leaving the jail. She was just coming to see Bill and she wasn’t happy to see me. Maybe we can call before we leave”
“Do you still think Wanda killed Martine?” my sister asked.
“Oh, Sam. I hope not. Two killers in one family.” I shook my head. “No. If Bill didn’t kill Martine, then I don’t think Wanda did it either.”
“I’m sure you’re right, honey. She’s horribly upset over Bill. She certainly didn’t strike me as a killer, though I admit I thought you were on to something. She’s in a bit of denial about the whole thing, insisting the police have made a terrible mistake.” John shook his head.
“But he confessed,” Michael said.
“Yes, he did. But Wanda thinks he was coerced by a police force anxious to get this whole thing cleared up. I did get her family’s address in Ohio. We can write to her.”
“Good idea. I’ll write when we get back. If nothing else, I’d like to thank her for her time while we were here. I feel guilty I suspected her.”
“Don’t. She was as likely a suspect as anyone,” John said as he took my hand.
A large black dog ran by us in an attempt to catch a ball an optimistic owner had thrown. Instead, he turned and jumped into the lake scaring the daylights out of two children in a paddleboat.
“Well, as glorious as this is, I still need to pack,” I said. “I’ve been putting it off and the time has finally come.”
“You don’t have as much as I do. You should be okay,” Sam said from behind me.
“No one has as much as you do. Thank God we’re shipping some back, but what’s that going to cost?” Michael asked.
We left the park with one last look.
Chapter 46
“Has anyone seen the sweater Mom let me borrow?” I asked an hour later. “It must be here somewhere, but I can’t find it.”
“Well, you better. It’s Mom’s favorite. She never let me borrow it,” Sam whined from the dining room table where she sorted through her passport and airline tickets.
“Maybe you packed it with your things by mistake,” John said to Sam.
“No, way,” Michael said. “I made sure she only had what was hers. And that was enough, believe me.”
“Well, I’ll be damned if—Wait! I’ve got it.” I yelled. “I took it to the Sunday service with me last week just in case the church was cold. I must have left it in the pew. Damn.”
John sighed. “Well, I guess we had better go get it.”
“Maybe we should call first,” I suggested.
“No. Let’s just go. I want to fill the car up with gas for the Smiths. Might as well do it now,” John said.
“And I want to go down to the tobacco shop and get a few more packs of those Cuban cigars for my dad,” Michael added. “Want to come, Sam?”
“No. I want to sort these thing out and give this place a once-over to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything.”
“Well, if you find one more thing, it’s staying.” Michael eyed the bags piled by the door. They just had one small bag left upstairs for the things they were using today.
“Alex, why don’t you finish your packing? I’ll fill the car up with gas at the station next to the tobacco shop and when I get back we can go get your sweater.” He turned to Michael. “Want a ride?”
While I packed Sam piddled around the apartment, checking plants for water, and bringing in the chairs we had used on the terrace. We would have to leave early for our flight and didn’t want any tasks left for tomorrow.
About forty-five minutes later, I heard the sound of the elevator. I looked out the bedroom window, and not seeing the little blue Escort, assumed the guys had parked around the corner. The sound grew closer. There was an abrupt clank when it stalled. I walked down the stairs and called to Sam.
“Someone’s coming up the elevator but I don’t see the car outside.”
“They probably parked around the block.” Sam started to walk away.
I grabbed hold of my sister’s sleeve and opened the front door a crack. When the elevator had made it almost to our floor, I could see the head of someone standing in it. Only one head. And it wasn’t Michael’s head. Or John’s.
Panicked, I eased the door closed. The lawyers below never came in on a Saturday and wouldn’t have access to our side of the house anyway. The Smiths had wanted someone in the apartment during the summer because of burglaries. But would a burglar use an elevator?
“Great,” I whispered. “I’m going to be attacked on my last day here.” I looked around for something to use as a weapon. There were two large umbrellas in a stand by the door. Sam and I removed them and stood across the room.
The elevator started up again. The small light inside was visible through the frosted plate of glass in the front door. A large form got out and we heard some thumping sounds. I wondered if I could make it to the phone, but didn’t know if there was 911 here. Besides, the person on the other end would be speaking in French, or God forbid, Flemish. It wouldn’t help me a bit.
The handle on the door jiggled a bit. Sam and I looked at each other in terror. I glanced at the door and realized too late that in my panic I hadn’t turned the lock completely. A large figure was slowly backing into the room carrying two large suitcases.
Galvanized by the umbrella, now firmly held by both my hands like a baseball bat, I shouted, “Stop! Don’t move! Or I’ll call the police!”
Chapter 47
The man lowered the suitcases to the floor and turned around slowly. “I’m Bret Smith. I live here. I can show you some ID if you’ll allow me.”
Sam lowered her umbrella. “Mr. Smith. Oh, thank God. We thought you were a robber.”
“Jeez. I’m sorry. I got it wrong. I wasn’t sure if you were all leaving today or tomorrow. I took a chance on it being today.”
I lowered the umbrella but still held onto it. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Is your wife with you?”
“No. I got called back by my office for an important meeting on Monday. I can go stay at the company condo. I don’t think anyone is using it during the summer.”
“No. It’s okay,” I said, my pulse rate returning to normal. “We can stay at a hotel for the night.”
“Nonsense. It’s no bother for me. It’s only about a mile away. I could use a ride,” he said glancing at the suitcases. “I sent the taxi off.”
“The car’s not here right now. Our husbands took it for some last minutes errands and to fill the tank.”
Bret Smith smiled at us and extended his hand. “Allow me to do this properly. I’m Bret.”
“And I’m Alex Harris.” I shook the cobwebs from my brain. “I mean Van der Burg, and this is my sister Sam Daniels. “Sorry about all this.” I gestured to the umbrella and felt my face turn a nice shade of pink.
“Hey, it’s why we wanted you here, to protect this place. I see we left it in good hands.” He smiled. Bret Smith was a tall, good-looking man of about thirty-three. His hair, or what remained of it, was streaked with gold, probably a result of the Spanish sun, and his skin was tanned.
“Well, here let me get out of your way. Come in. Oh, sorry. It’s your house,” Sam said a bit flustered.
Bret came into the foyer and put his bags in the corner. I saw him looking at all of our suitcases. “From all tho
se bags, it looks like you’ve been having a good time.”
“Yeah, well. We got carried away a bit, I’m afraid. Reality will sink in about the time the credit card bills start to arrive,” I grinned.
“Don’t feel so bad. You should see what my wife’s accumulated down in Spain. I’ve got to go back just to help her get to the airport.”
“The others should be back shortly and we can settle this whole thing. How about a cold drink while we wait? We’ve got some Coke in the refrigerator we want to get rid of before we leave.” I hesitated for a second. “Of course, now with you back, we could just leave it for you.”
“A cold drink sounds good.” He followed us into the kitchen. “So tell me what you’ve all been doing. Have you seen everything you wanted to? Anything exciting happen?”
I took three glasses from the cupboard and turned. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Chapter 48
When John and I pulled up to the Church of Renewed Hope an hour and a half later, a young woman was just exiting the building. I got out and asked her if Tom Mulberry was inside.
“No. He was here, but he went home a while ago.”
“Darn! I don’t suppose you happen to know where he lives?” I asked.
The woman laughed. She put her hand on my shoulder and turned me. “Right there,” she said pointing to a house across the road. “Very convenient, huh?”
I thanked her and John and I walked out of the parking lot and across the street.
Tom Mulberry answered the door. He looked a bit bewildered before recognition dawned on his face. “Well, hello. I thought you’d returned home by now.”
“Tomorrow. We’re sorry to disturb you at home but last week when I was here, I must have left my sweater.”
“White with small flowers?”
“Yes. You found it!” I exclaimed.
“Well, not me, but one of our parishioners turned it in. Figured the owner would come looking for it eventually.”
“Tom? Who’s at the door?” Jobeth Mulberry came into the small room. Her hair hung loose and her face, devoid of the layers of makeup she usually wore, looked splotchy.
Tom turned rigidly to his wife. “It’s the Van der Burgs. Alex left her sweater here last week by mistake.”
Jobeth stood back away from the door in the shadows. She hugged an old bathrobe around her tightly and didn’t say another word.
Tom smiled. “Well, it’s over in the church. We keep a small cabinet for lost and found items. I’ll take you over.” He shut the door tightly behind him never saying anything else to his wife.
When we arrived back at the church, Tom took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He pressed a few numbers into a small box attached to the wall just inside, disarming the alarm. “Okay, you can enter now.” He went through a door and a few seconds later came back with the sweater.
“Oh, thank you so much. I borrowed it from my mother and it’s one of her favorites.”
“Well, don’t leave it on the plane.” Tom pushed us gently to the door.
“I won’t. I’ll pack it as soon as I get back to the apartment.”
We all stood outside now, John and I feeling a bit awkward.
“Well, thanks again.” John took hold of my arm.
“Have a good trip back,” Tom yelled after us. “And thanks for a great game of volleyball, John. I haven’t played that hard in years.” Tom turned and started into the church again.
We reached the car and John held the door open for me. I just stood there. “What’s wrong? Did you leave something else here?”
“No. I was just thinking of something.”
“What?”
“Something’s been niggling at my mind on and off for some time. Something Martine said. It probably isn’t important.” I shrugged and got into the car and John closed the door and went around to the other side. He was about to put the key in the ignition when I stopped him with my hand.
“Wait.”
“Are you remembering something?” John asked.
“Martine knew Paul and Jane had had an affair. She didn’t like Jane much.”
“So?” John reached for the key once again. I gently touched his arm.
“I know I wouldn’t want to be at a party if someone you had an affair with was there.”
“Well, the affair with Jane had ended quite some time before. Martine and Paul weren’t even married at that time. And Paul broke it off with Jane because he realized it was Martine he wanted to be with. She was probably okay with it. Felt secure.”
“I don’t know. I think she wanted to be there.”
“She probably did. It was a nice day and she seemed to know everyone else.”
“Something’s not right.”
John put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the car. Instead he turned to face me. “About what, Alex? We should get back. We’ve still got to finish packing.”
“The day of the barbecue, everyone was playing volleyball. Martine and I were talking and she wasn’t very happy.”
“We know that.”
“She and I watched the game. Watched Paul. It was his turn to serve and he was talking with someone. And Martine said she wished she’d never met him.”
“Well, they were having problems, honey.” John turned and tried to start the car but again I caught his hand.
“She wasn’t talking about Paul. He was standing next to someone else.” I stared into my husband’s gray eyes. “That’s who she meant when she said she wished she’d never met him. Paul was standing next to Tom Mulberry.”
Chapter 49
“It all fits. Don’t you see?” I reached for the door handle.
“Whoa! Wait a minute. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“She was talking about Tom. He’s the one she wished she had never met.”
“What else?” John asked. I could tell he felt I was on to something.
“Who told us Paul hit Martine?”
“Tom.”
“Right. And in all the interviews you and Gerard conducted has anyone else ever mentioned abuse?”
“No. Not even Martine’s mother and she would probably say anything if it would help to convict Paul.”
I nodded. “Has anyone else ever mentioned Martine was seeing Tom for counseling?”
“No, not that I know of. And I know Gerard talked with a lot of her friends. Someone would have known.”
“Right. Belgians are reserved to be sure, but even a Belgian woman would confide in a friend about seeing a counselor, wouldn’t she?”
“Yeah, I would think so. Tom’s the only one to say all these things,” John said.
“Because they weren’t true. He made it all up. He wanted to cast suspicion on others, mainly Paul. Even Jobeth never mentioned knowing her husband counseled Martine. She seems to know everything about what goes on here,” I hesitated for a moment. “And did you see her today? I couldn’t get a good view but what I could see looked terrible.”
“Yes, she didn’t look well. She looked like a woman who had a few bruises on her face and was trying to hide it.”
“My God! You’re right. That’s probably why she wears so much makeup. I thought her skin looked a bit odd, and not just because of her fondness for face powder and the lack of it today.”
John reached into his pocket and took out his cell. “Oh, great. The battery is dead. I forgot to charge it. Alex, do you have your phone?”
“No, I don’t. It’s at the apartment sitting on the dining room table.”
John got out of the car and looked around. He stuck his head back into the car. “There’s a phone booth over there by the bus stop. I just hope it’s not one of the ones you need a special phone card for. Give me all the change you have. I’m going to call Gerard. I’ll be right back.”
I watched as John dropped coins into the phone. Good. The phone booth was an older model still requiring a coin instead of a card. He seemed to be talking with someone and I hoped it was Gerard.
But what was taking him so long. Geessh. I waited another minute and then got out of the car. Tom Mulberry had not come out of the church. I didn’t want him to leave until the police got here. I don’t know why but I just didn’t want him going back to his house. I had a bad feeling about his being anywhere near Jobeth right now.
I had to stall him for a few minutes longer. With any luck Gerard would notify the local police and they would arrive before Gerard got here from Brussels. I shut the car door and walked up the path to the church.
Chapter 50
“John!” Tom Mulberry called from a small office off to the side of the main lobby, “Your wife was just sharing an interesting scenario with me. Come join us.”
John walked in and gave me a we’ll-talk-later-you’re-not-getting-away-with-this look I chose to ignore for the moment.
“She was just telling me she thought I killed Martine. How she came to such a conclusion is beyond me. Alex, you have quite an imagination there.” Tom rocked back in his chair and steadied himself with one palm on the desk.
“Well, let me tell you why we think it’s entirely possible.” John reiterated all the conclusions we had come to back in the car and not hesitating for one moment to let Tom know Inspector Willix was on his way.
“It seems both of you suffer from reading too many mysteries.”
“I don’t read mysteries, Tom. But I’ve been told I’m pretty good at solving them. Though we have Alex to thank for this.” John turned to me. “Actually, we have Martine. She identified you right from the start.”
“Yes, she didn’t always use the best judgment. She also had a pushy side, and they say we Americans are pushy. Well, it seems I’ve been caught, doesn’t it?”
He actually smiled and my stomach churned.
“You mean we’re right? You did kill Martine?” I couldn’t believe the man confessed so easily. I also realized for the first time John and I were alone in a church with a killer. Gerard had better hurry up.