Damsels in Distress

by Joan Hess

  Ken and Barbie did not let me down. After their customary teasers and several commercials, Barbie settled down with her latest breaking news. It seemed that Salvador Davis, victim of a brutal murder, was the bestselling author of a series of comic books (Barbie hadn’t done her homework) featuring Lord Zormurd and various wizards, dragons, and swamp denizens. His first, Zormurd and the Castle of Fire, written a year after he’d moved to Farberville from New York City, had been made into a movie starring actors known for their brawn rather than their brains. His pseudonymous persona, Stark Reality, was in demand as a speaker at fan conventions and trade shows. He’d recently won a prestigious international award.

  Barbie fluttered her eyelashes earnestly. “As of this afternoon, the police have interviewed hundreds of those who attended the Renaissance Fair but have no leads. The mayor has promised to keep us informed as the mystery deepens.” She went on to recap everything that had already been said, then tossed the ball to Ken, who filled us in on escalating prices at the pumps.

  When the phone rang, I picked it up, expecting to hear Carrie’s voice.

  “Mrs. Malloy, this is Julius Valens. I need to speak to you.”

  “If it’s about the condition of the costumes, you’ll have to take it up with the girls. I had nothing to do with the transaction.”

  “No, not about that.” He cleared his throat. “Can I come over to your apartment?”

  That struck me as a very bad idea. The last thing I wanted was a distraught and despondent rejected suitor sobbing on my sofa half the night, while I wrung out handkerchiefs and poured endless cups of tea into him. Or, if he were enraged, putting a fist through my wall. My landlord was not only humorless, but also hoping for an excuse to throw me out so he could put an apartment building on the lot.

  “You may not come here, Julius,” I said. “Why don’t you come by the bookstore tomorrow?”

  “I can’t wait. It’s about Fiona. She’s disappeared, and I’m afraid something has happened to her.”

  I bit my lip for a few seconds. “She’s nearly thirty years old, and it’s not even dark yet. Maybe she went shopping or to a movie. She could be taking a nap or simply not in the mood to answer the phone.”

  “She promised to meet me at four for coffee. I waited for an hour, then went to my office in case she called.”

  “It was a traumatic weekend for all of us. She may have forgotten about your date.”

  Julius sucked in a breath. “I realize it was traumatic, Mrs. Malloy,” he said evenly, although the sarcasm was hard to miss. “It wasn’t exactly a carefree day at the Renaissance Fair, was it? The detectives kept us at the farmhouse most of night. My parents watched the news and were hysterical when I was finally allowed to go home. I may have been testy with Fiona yesterday morning, but we were both exhausted. She planned to spend the day at school, and meet me at the health food café at four o’clock. It’s almost eight.”

  “I can’t help you, Julius.”

  “I drove by Salvador’s house. It was locked and dark inside.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Try the mall. I can guarantee it’s crowded and brightly lit.”

  “Lanya told me you went to her house to get Edward’s address. Why did you do that?”

  I felt a chill. “I also went to Bud’s Auto Emporium and the beer garden on Thurber Street. I went by Lanya’s because Anderson was worried about her. I do not have to account for my actions, any more than you do. If you want to continue this conversation, come by the bookstore tomorrow.”

  “What about Fiona?” he asked coldly. “Does it have anything to do with Edward?”

  “I’ve already told you that I can’t help you.” I hung up and stared at the campus lawn that undulated down the hill to my street. Shadows were longer, and it would be dark soon. Julius had alarmed me. I did not want to be in the apartment if he decided to come by, but I couldn’t leave until Caron came home from the grocery store. Because I was, according to her, the crudest and most miserly parent of any student at Farberville High School, she did not have a cell phone. For once, I wished she did. I also wished I had Edward’s phone number so that I could warn him. Lanya might have given Julius the address as readily as she’d given it to me.

  I made sure my front door was locked. I debated the wisdom of turning off the lights and arming myself with a dull knife, or behaving like a total ninny and calling Peter. To say what? Julius could be sitting down to macaroni and cheese with his parents. The SWAT team would be annoyed if he was watching a movie when they broke down the door. And he hadn’t admitted anything beyond being worried about Fiona.

  Now, of course, I was, too.

  When Caron at last came up the back steps, I was waiting at the door. I grabbed a sack of groceries from her and said, “Are there more in the car?”

  She gave me a wary look. “No, just these two. Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I want you to go to Inez’s and stay there until I call. I’ll put everything away.”

  “What is going on?” she demanded.

  I gave her a little shove. “I don’t have time to explain now. Take the car and go.”

  “I am not going to leave you here by yourself. I have a right to know, so you might as well tell me.”

  I dug through the sacks and pulled out the frozen items. As I stuffed them in the freezer, I said, “Mr. Valens is upset and may decide to come over here. I don’t want either of us to be here.” I stashed milk, orange juice, and fruit in the refrigerator. “Please go, dear. I need to let…some other people know he’s on the warpath.”

  Caron turned mulish. “Then I’ll go with you. You are babbling, Mother, and in no condition to go anywhere on your own. If we run into Mr. Valens, the two of us can handle him. He’s a bully, that’s all.”

  I was touched by her desire to defend me. It would not do, however, for her to see her AP history teacher frolicking with a college student. Caron, like many of her peers, adheres to a strict moral code when it comes to adults. “It’s not a situation in which your presence would help,” I said hastily. “It won’t take long, and then I’ll go to Luanne’s and call you at Inez’s house. Okay?”

  “I don’t like this one bit,” she muttered, but allowed me to nudge her out the door. “If I don’t hear from you within an hour, I’ll call Peter. Maybe he can talk some sense into you.”

  “Fine, fine,” I said, then waited until I heard her drive away. I turned off the lights and went down the back steps to the alley. Edward’s apartment house was only a ten-minute walk. Once I’d delivered my warning, I could be at Luanne’s in another fifteen minutes. I had plenty of time to prevent Caron from calling Peter, who would not be pleased to be disturbed. It might be prudent for Caron to stay with Inez and for me to sleep on Luanne’s sofa, I thought as I put my hands in my pockets and began to walk briskly. Julius Valens could pound on my door to his heart’s content. There were no downstairs tenants to be annoyed. Eventually he’d figure it out and slink away to his parents’ house for milk and cookies.

  It was dark when I arrived at Edward’s apartment house. I couldn’t see his windows, since he lived in the back. I tried to remember if there was a fence, but I hadn’t paid attention earlier.

  Shrubs, maybe, and trees. More dirt than grass. I decided to risk a foray to ascertain if Edward’s lights were on. If they were not, I would assume he was out and I’d head for Luanne’s. If they were on, I might be able to get a glimpse inside and decide how to proceed. I was not eager to knock on his door and explain that Fiona’s would-be fiance was apt to come calling. I am fearless when the situation calls for valor, but I prefer to avoid pointless confrontations. And, frankly, not to be cast in the role of a busybody.

  I bit down on my lip as I ventured into the murky depths of the forest primeval. I was more concerned about rosebushes than beasts. I immediately tripped over a tricycle left by a small satanic creature. After rubbing my shin, I stood up and peered at what I thought might be Edward’s window.
All I could see was a drab ceiling, which was likely to be the decor in all the apartments. Three tentative steps later I determined that there were indeed untamed rosebushes. Quietly vocalizing some Anglo-Saxon expletives, I untangled myself. My arms were sticky as blood oozed from the scratches.

  The entire idea was increasingly ridiculous. Whatever altruistic ideals had propelled me here were rapidly evaporating. The only weapon Julius might have access to was a prop gun from the theater, and although it would make for a dramatic scene, no one would stagger back and collapse from the impact of a blank. However, I was there and the clock was ticking.

  The side yard was a forest, but the backyard was a jungle. There had once been a patio, I determined as I stubbed my toe on a flagstone. A birdbath loomed like a mutant mushroom. Dry leaves crackled as I tried to move furtively. Some sort of shed had collapsed in the distant past, and small creatures scurried as I approached. I could see the windows of the back room of Edward’s apartment. Lights were on, but no one obligingly moved into view. There was no way of telling whether anyone was inside.

  I heard a cough behind me. Stifling a screech, I spun around. The beam from a flashlight caught me in the face, blinding me. I shaded my eyes and said, “Who is it?”

  “Mrs. Malloy?”

  “Turn that blasted thing off!” I snapped.

  The beam lowered. “It’s Corporal McTeer, ma’am. We met earlier this summer.”

  I remembered the young black woman who’d done her best to keep me under house arrest. “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “Following you. I was supposed to make sure you were safe at home, but then you came sneaking out the back and I figured I’d better stick with you.”

  “Is this Lieutenant Rosen’s bright idea?”

  “He was concerned. If you don’t mind me asking, just what is it we’re doing here? There are chiggers and ticks in these weeds, and I’ve already got two mosquito bites. I’m not what you’d call a nature lover.”

  “Any chance you’ll go away, Corporal McTeer?”

  “No way. Lieutenant Rosen can be mighty fierce when someone disobeys his orders. I don’t want to be demoted and spend another two years filing papers at the PD. Sorry, ma’am, but I’m staying on your heels until you’re back home.”

  I leaned against the birdbath and contemplated my next move. I’d already bruised my shin and suffered scratches, and I wasn’t about to give up at this point. o you have a weapon?”

  “I sure do.” She hesitated, then added, “Do you?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “I prefer to use my cunning charm. Here’s what we’re going to do, Corporal.”

  Three minutes later we were on the front porch of the apartment house. Corporal McTeer stood under the feeble light, her arms crossed. She was looking nervously at the sidewalk, having been cautioned about Julius Valens. I went upstairs and along the hall to Edward’s door. As before, it was ajar. I knocked, then went into the living room, determined to have my say and exit with all possible haste. To my astonishment, Edward and Benny were sprawled on the sofa. At least a dozen beer cans and several empty wine bottles were on the coffee table, along with bags of chips and pretzels.

  “Good evening,” I said lamely.

  “Welcome, Lady Clarissa!” boomed Benny. “We’re having a wake of sorts. We can’t give Salvador a proper Viking funeral because of pesky laws, so this is the best we can do. You want a beer?”

  Edward grinned at me. “Surprised?”

  “Yes, I am,” I said. “I didn’t know the two of you were friends.”

  Benny slapped Edward’s shoulder. “I was just telling the kid about his dear old dad. Salvador and I were buddies fifteen years ago. We met at a war in Kansas, got drunker than skunks, and chased after every damsel in the camp. Caught a few, too. Salvador was a helluva lot smarter than all the pretentious old farts dressed in royal garb lording it over their subjects. He was living in New York then, but we kept in touch and went to a lot of the same events. We shared a tent on occasion, as well as bourbon and beer. There was one time when we lured these two blondes to join us for the night, and-”

  “I don’t think I want to hear this one, Benny,” I said. “Was Salvador writing graphic novels back then?”

  “Before the Lord Zormurd series?” asked Edward, leaning forward.

  Benny brushed crumbs off his beard. “Yeah, but he couldn’t sell anything. He admitted it was all derivative drivel, to use his phrase. Mostly science fiction junk. The editors like his artwork, but not his stories. Every time he got a rejection in the mail, he’d call me and gripe. He was selling a few paintings, and scraping by when I suggested that he move someplace more affordable, namely Farberville. He lived in a crappy apartment like this until he had his first big sale. We stayed drunk for three days to celebrate.”

  I stared at Benny, who was getting teary. The previous day he’d spoken harshly about Salvador, and now he was overcome with maudlin memories. In the silence, Edward went to the refrigerator and returned with three beers.

  “Shall we drink a toast to Lord Zormurd?” he said as he offered me a beer.

  I shook my head. “No, I can’t stay. I need to have a word in private with you.”

  “I shall tolerate no motley-minded secrets,” said Benny. He took a beer from Edward and gulped down half of it. “As Sir Kenneth of Gweek, I demand you have your say, Lady Clarissa.”

  The clock was still ticking. “All right,” I said. “Edward, I won’t speculate about what’s going on between you and Fiona, but you should know that Julius is upset. He may show up tonight, looking for her.”

  “The ferocious Squire Squarepockets?” Benny brayed with amusement. “I could grab him by his bow tie and toss him out the window without raising an eyebrow. You and Fiona, huh? Now that’s a hoot. She put the make on me, but I don’t care for prissy girls with pinched smiles. Anderson and Salvador were less picky. For all I know, the plume-plucked wench was getting it on with William Threet right there in front of Percival. If ever there was a classic cuckold, it was Julius.” He whacked Edward again. “Find somebody your own age, lad. She’s a python in panty hose.”

  “I have no idea what Claire is talking about,” Edward said.

  “Whatever.” I nodded at them and left, making sure to close the door behind me. Apparently Benny had not yet noticed the bra under the coffee table. Fiona was probably hiding in the bedroom, desperately hoping Benny would either leave or pass out. Or she might have fled without her bra. I didn’t care.

  Corporal McTeer was sitting on a metal chair on the porch. We walked back to my duplex. She declined my offer to come upstairs for tea, and promised to watch for Julius. I called Inez’s house and told Caron that all was well. She tried to hide her relief, but I could hear a tremble in her voice as she told me that they were watching movies and she’d be home in the morning.

  Having done my good deed for the day (as well as quite a few less laudatory ones), I found my novel and retired for the night.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was minding my own business (which required minimal attention) when Peter and Jorgeson came into the Book Depot late the next morning. They both looked grim, although if it were a competition, Peter would have won hands down.

  “I didn’t do it,” I said.

  “Do what?” Peter growled, in my opinion rather brusquely for one greeting his betrothed.

  “I have no idea, but I’m innocent all the same. The only things I’ve done today are have a double latte, read the newspaper, and sell a book on dog grooming to a man with a nasty little poodle that piddled on the floor. He didn’t apologize, nor did the dog.”

  “We have a problem,” Jorgeson said.

  “So do I,” I said. “Can’t you smell the urine?”

  Peter crossed his arms. “A body, at Salvador Davis’s house. Michelle Galway, also known as Serengeti. After the interview at the PD yesterday, she asked for a lift to a coffee shop near the campus. She must have walked the rest of the way
. This morning I sent a couple of officers to the house to collect the boxes of comic books and graphic novels. They found her in the studio.”

  “Oh, dear.” I sat down on the stool before my knees buckled. “What happened to her?”

  “Her throat was slashed with a utility knife,” Peter said. “There were several in a drawer. Artists use them to cut mat boards. Very sharp and nasty.”

  “When—when did it happen?” I asked.

  Jorgeson’s cell phone chirped. He glanced at Peter, then headed outside.

  Peter waited until the door was closed, then said, “The medical examiner thought six to eight hours before her body was found. After midnight, at the earliest. She was wearing bizarre makeup, like a ghoul. One of the officers had to dash into the nearest bathroom.”

  “It must have been awful. I’ve seen her in the goth makeup. She told me that she wore it so that Salvador wouldn’t recognize her, but he’s beyond recognizing anybody. I guess it was a way to cover up her scar.” A vague idea began to slither into a recess of my mind, but I couldn’t quite verbalize it. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

  “It could have been a burgler who thought the house would be empty. He might have been looking for something of value in the studio when Serengeti surprised him. He panicked and grabbed the utility knife.”

  “She certainly could have had that effect on a nervous intruder,” I said. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” He ran his fingers through his adorably curly hair. “We’ve already had a word with each member of that Renaissance club. No one has much in the way of an alibi, except you, of course.”

  “I hope you didn’t make Corporal McTeer sit in my yard all night.”

  “She was relieved at midnight by another officer, who said that unless you climbed out a back window and slid down a drainpipe, you were home.” He consulted his notebook. “Benny Stallings, Edward Cobbinwood, and Fiona Thackery claimed they were in their own beds, alone. Anderson and Lanya Peru sleep in different bedrooms. Julius Valens lives with his parents, but he has an apartment in the basement with a door that leads outside. William and Glynnis Threet aren’t likely suspects, but either of them could have slipped away. He takes out his hearing aid at night, and she finally admitted she sleeps in the guest room because he snores like a motorboat. An Evinrude, to be precise. As for motive, who knows? They’re all peculiar.”