by Elaine Macko
I pulled in front of the school and saw Kendall and Henry waiting under a tree. This was their last week before summer vacation. I watched them as they made their way to my car. What was I going to tell them? Your mother’s in jail for killing the father of one of your friends, and your father is off doing God knows what with God knows who. No. That wouldn’t do. I put a big smile on my face just as Henry opened the door and climbed in back.
“Where’s Mom?” Henry asked.
“Your mother had some stuff to do and she said I could come and pick you guys up, and you know how much I like to do that. And now we’re going over to Grandma and Papa’s house and I’ll bet there are some pretty good snacks over there.”
“Does it have something to do with Moshi?” Kendall asked.
I turned around and looked at the two of them strapped into my back seat. “Why would you ask that?”
“Moshi’s aunt came and got her earlier and I saw her crying when I looked out the window. Mrs. Monahan said not to worry, but I think she was trying not to cry.”
“Your mom just had some stuff to do,” I said again. “But she’ll be home soon. So. Are you guys excited about summer?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.
“We have summer camp during the day and then Grandma will pick us up. And in July we’re going to the beach in Maine and the amusement park in New York. I’m tall enough for the fast rides.”
I smiled at Henry in the rearview mirror while I maneuvered my little car away from the school. Is this where Mr. Sanjari was killed? I didn’t know and I wasn’t about to ask the kids. I got them to my parents without further inquiry about either their mother or Moshi Sanjari.
My parents, having been alerted by Millie, were at the front door with open arms. They like nothing better than having Kendall and Henry visit.
“Something told me I was going to have company, and I’ve got cookie dough almost ready to go into the oven. Who wants to help?” my mother asked.
The kids took off into the kitchen with my father trailing behind them. My mother watched them go and then turned to me.
“Alex, what’s going on? Millie sounded odd when she called. Where’s your sister?”
I gave a furtive look down the hall to make sure the kids were out of earshot, and then took my mother into the living room.
“Alex, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“Sam’s okay. Physically, anyway.”
“What the hell does that mean? Allessandra Harris Van der Burg, tell me right now what happened to Sam.”
My mother’s face was pale and her hands, which I had just taken in my own, were ice cold. Plus, she just used my given name, which she hadn’t done in about twenty years. Not a good sign.
“Detective Van der Burg took Sam to the police station. The father of a girl in Kendall’s class was killed, murdered, actually, and the police seem to think that, well, that maybe Sam had something to do with it.”
“What? Why? Why would John think such a thing? And why are you calling him Detective Van der Burg?”
“Because I’m not sure I can be married to a man who arrested my sister.” I shook my head in disgust.
“Alex, stop. I’m sure he had—”
“What, Mom, a good reason to arrest my sister? Your daughter. I don’t think so.”
“But why Sam? And where’s Michael?” my mother asked.
I took a deep breath. Did I really want to lay the Michael-might-be-having-an-affair scenario on her at this point? “All good questions,” I said instead. “Hopefully this will all be cleared up soon.”
“Of course it will be. John’s just probably having a bad day. This will all get sorted out the minute Michael shows up. This crazy humidity makes people do stupid things.”
If Michael ever showed up, and why the hell hadn’t he called me back by now?
“Well, there’s something else. The detective said there was a witness.”
“Alex, stop calling your husband detective. What witness? What could they possibly have seen? I didn’t raise murderers.”
“It seems Sam had words with the victim yesterday morning when she dropped the kids off. And there’s more. He’s the inspector on their sunroom, and he told Sam he wasn’t signing off on the construction. Sam said he’s mad over something to do with his daughter and Kendall, and the fact that Sam has been rebuking his advances.”
My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “This is a nightmare. What are we going to tell Henry and Kendall?”
But I didn’t have time to think up an answer because just then the front door opened and my sister walked into the living room.
Chapter 5
“Did you escape or did the detective let you go?” I asked, hoping for a bit of levity before my mother totally collapsed.
“Your husband told me I could go but not to leave town,” Sam said as she dropped her purse on the floor and fell onto the sofa.
“He didn’t really tell you not to leave town, did he?”
My sister gave me the evil eye. “Oh yes. Said he might have some more questions for me.”
“Mom! You’re back. Grandpa is helping us make cookies and Henry’s eating the dough.”
Sam gave Kendall a hug and told to her to make sure her brother didn’t eat any more until it came out of the oven. Kendall ran back to the kitchen and Sam leaned against my mother.
“What a day.”
“Samantha, what on earth happened?”
“Victor Sanjari was killed some time last night. They found him at a construction site for a new home in the bluffs above Pirate’s Beach. He was nailed.”
“Nailed?” I asked. “What does that mean?” My mother and I exchanged curious glances.
“He was nailed. Literally. Someone shot him full of nails from a nail gun and then nailed each hand to one of the pieces of wood. They found him sitting on the floor of the site, with his back to the wall and his hands up and nailed, like someone said ‘get your hands up.’”
“Dear God! Who would do something like that?” I asked.
“Well, the police think yours truly might be a viable suspect.” My sister shook her head. “My own brother-in-law.”
“Yeah, well, not for long.”
My mother pursed her lips into a tight thin line. “Alex, stop that. John was just doing his job. You said someone saw something and they reported it so of course John has to do his job and follow up.” My mother then turned her attention to my sister. “So what did the witness see or hear, dear, that caused you to be taken in to the station?”
“Can I have something to drink? Maybe some tea and hot cookies. For some reason the people at the police station didn’t offer me anything.”
I followed my mother into the kitchen and got the tea ready while she checked on a batch of cookies in the oven. She quietly told my dad to keep the kids in the kitchen and she would tell him everything later. My dad, Harry Harris, is a good guy, and he just said sure and kissed my mom’s cheek.
“Here you go, dear, just the way you like it.” My mother placed a steaming cup of mint tea in front of my sister.
Despite the heat of the day, we were all having hot tea. It just seemed to be a comfort drink and that’s definitely what was needed now. And cookies.
Sam reached for an oatmeal coconut chocolate chip cookie, still warm from the oven. She savored a bite, took a sip of tea, and leaned back into the sofa’s thick cushions.
“Okay. So a bit of background first. Victor Sanjari is a home inspector. He and his late wife, a high school math teacher, moved to this area about ten years ago from Hartford, I think. Their daughter, Moshi, goes to school with Kendall. They’re friendly, but there’s always been a bit of competition between them. They both seem to like the same sports and activities and try out for a lot of the same things.”
“But the wife is dead, correct?” I asked.
“That’s right. In April or maybe the end of March, Vic and his wife, Jenna, took a long weekend trip to Maine for their wedding a
nniversary. They were out hiking. There was still some snow on the ground and ice and she supposedly slipped and fell down an embankment. She died instantly.”
“How terrible and now the father is dead. That poor little girl.”
My mother is a kind woman and has a soft spot for anything or anyone in trouble. Of course her immediate reaction would be to think about Moshi. I felt very sad about Moshi as well, and hoped she had lots of family to take care of her and try to give her a good life, but while my mother’s first thoughts were of sympathy for another human, my mind went straight to the word supposedly while listening to my sister’s story.
“What do you mean by supposedly slipped and fell? Was there some question as to how the wife died?”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “There was talk. You know how things get out of hand. I guess Vic and Jenna were having some problems. I don’t know exactly, but some people said it had something to do with Moshi. Vic and Jenna had different ideas on how to raise her, and I guess Vic wanted his mother to move in with them and Jenna said no way. I don’t think she got along with Victor’s family. I’ve met the mother and Victor’s sister a couple of times. Very odd people.”
“So what are you saying? That he pushed her over the cliff?” I asked.
Samantha shrugged. “I don’t know. A few people thought it was very convenient that he goes away a married man and comes back a widower and has his mother move right in. And I gotta tell you,” my sister said as she leaned forward and took another cookie, “the man was a bit creepy. Always touching me in an innocent way, but not, if you know what I mean. Even before Jenna died.”
“So what happened yesterday?” Mom asked, just as Riley, my parents’ Welsh terrier, flew into the room. My mother took the lid off a glass bowl and pulled out a small treat for the dog. He practically inhaled it, and then jumped up on the sofa and made himself comfortable between my sister and mother.
“Victor did our inspection the other night on our sunroom and wouldn’t sign off on it. I was mad, but I figured I’d let Michael handle it. Then yesterday morning he said maybe we could work something out, and as he said it he put his hand on my hip. Made my skin crawl. I got the kids out of the car and sent them inside and then I followed Vic into the school. I wanted to tell him in no uncertain terms that he better knock it off, and that I knew what he was up to and he wasn’t going to get away with it. I would see to that.” My sister took a deep breath. “Of course, by then my voice was pretty loud. Everyone was listening. But I certainly didn’t mean I would kill the man. I wanted to, but you know, that was just the heat of the moment.”
“I don’t understand,” my mother began. “The police think you followed him all day and then killed him last night?”
“That’s just it. I had to run some, um, had some errands to run last night, so I wasn’t home at the time he was killed.”
“Well, there you go. Someone must have seen you. The police will follow up and everything will be fine.” Mom smiled and patted Sam’s hand.
I sensed my sister wasn’t telling us the whole story, and I had a feeling it had something to do with Michael. I wasn’t about to press her any further, not in front of our mother, but there was someone else who had the answer and he better cough up or he’d be looking for another place to live and a new wife.
Chapter 6
After I pilfered a dozen or so cookies from my parents, I headed home. I wasn’t in the mood to cook, so first I stopped off at Krueger’s Market for a rotisserie chicken to go with the big bowl of steamed broccoli I had in the refrigerator. Every week I steam a big bunch of broccoli, drizzle some extra virgin olive oil over it, add some chopped garlic and fresh lemon juice, and pop it in the frig. I munch on it while I make dinner, and it’s a much healthier snack than, say, a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. I don’t even buy them anymore because I just don’t have the will power to keep myself from devouring the entire bag at one sitting. But tonight I had oatmeal coconut chocolate chip cookies with me, so I didn’t think my broccoli routine would help. Instead, I planned to have it with the chicken as a side and that would be my dinner.
I didn’t expect the detective, aka my husband, to be home yet, but his car was in the driveway. I pulled into the garage and made my way into the kitchen and put my groceries on the counter, and then filled the electric kettle with water and turned it on.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come home tonight. I thought maybe you’d stay over at Meme’s. I was just about to call.”
“If anyone should be somewhere else it’s you,” I said, while I pulled a plate down from the cupboard and took the broccoli out of the refrigerator. I leaned on the counter with one hand and put my other firmly on my hip. “How could you come into my office and take my sister out like a common criminal in front of everyone? Huh? You humiliated her and for what? Because someone overheard her have words with some jerk. May he rest in peace, but from what she tells me, he wasn’t the nicest guy, and do you know that there are rumors he may have killed his wife?”
I sliced several pieces of white meat leaving the warm crispy skin intact, spooned a big helping of broccoli onto my plate to counteract the damage all those cookies I planned to eat for dessert might do, and took it over to the kitchen table.
“May I join you?” Detective Van der Burg asked.
I shrugged while he filled a plate and sat next to me.
“Alex, I have a job to do.”
“Right. And you might work on your people skills. I understand that you usually deal with more unsavory characters, and maybe that’s all you know, but my sister, your sister-in-law, is not one of them. I’m surprised you didn’t bring a SWAT team along with you so the whole street would know what was going on.” I speared a stalk with my fork and took a bite.
I chewed while I watched this Arnold Schwarzenegger wannabe next to me.
“Okay. I guess I could have handled it better.”
“Ya think?”
“Yeah, I think. Am I forgiven?”
“I don’t know. It seems like a waste of a good tree to throw out those divorce papers I have in my purse, but maybe I can recycle them.” I looked at the idiot and smiled. “How could you possibly think my sister had anything to do with a murder? Thank God you came to your senses and let her go.” I cut a piece of the juicy meat and savored the crisp, herb-encrusted skin.
“Well, she’s not actually off the hook. I didn’t think she and the kids would up and leave during the night so I didn’t see any reason to lock her up.”
I looked at John, expecting a smile. He was making a joke, right? Wrong. The man sat there, all serious like.
I put my fork down. “Are you kidding me? You interrogated her for what, over an hour, and you still think she might be involved?”
“Alex, calm down. Yes, I questioned her and I gave her every chance to give me an alibi for the time Mr. Sanjari was killed.”
“And?”
“And nothing. She wouldn’t tell us where she was or what she was doing at the time of the murder. Nothing. She told us they had words earlier in the day, but wouldn’t tell us anything more.”
“Well, she probably just ran some errands, John. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is she won’t tell us what those errands were. And we need to know.”
Despite the fact that it was a warm evening and there was no breeze coming through the open kitchen window, I felt a chill crawling up my back. What the hell was going on? Why wouldn’t my sister tell the police where she had been? I didn’t have any answers, but I also didn’t have to sit here and listen to my husband tell me that he still suspected my sister of murder. She was my flesh and blood, the person who knew all my secrets and protected me when I was little from the thunder and lightning. No, I wouldn’t have it.
I pushed my plate away with a quick brush of my hand and walked to the counter. I tossed a tea bag into a mug and filled it with water. I picked up the mug, grabbed a bag of cookies, and without a further word I went to
bed.
Chapter 7
I couldn’t sleep. No one could with all the sugar and chocolate I had consumed from the cookies. At some point during the night I had heard John come upstairs. He must have slept in the guest room, and I hoped he liked it in there because I could see this setup becoming permanent.
I looked at the clock. Four-thirty. I got up and took a shower and dressed. Thirty minutes later I went down to the kitchen and to my surprise it was spotless, but if John Van der Burg thought a clean kitchen would make up for taking my sister to the police station, he had another thing coming.
I was about to make a cup of tea, but really didn’t want to be here when John came down. I knew where I could go and I knew there would be food.
Ten minutes later I pulled up in front of my grandmother’s house and smiled when I saw the lights on.
“I half expected you to be here last night,” my grandmother, Giannina Redmond, or Meme as everyone calls her, said as I placed a kiss on her soft cheek.
“In retrospect, I should have.”
“That bad? Your mother told me what John did.”
“Let’s just say, he slept in the guest room and I consumed a dozen oatmeal coconut chocolate chip cookies.”
“Your mother’s recipe?” Meme asked.
“Yep.”
“I don’t blame you there, kiddo. Those things are the best. Well, I have some fresh melon and some sourdough wheat toast for you. Got some salami, too.”
I helped my grandmother carry everything into the small living room of her small house in a senior community. Meme loves living here and has some terrific friends, plus she’s nice and close so I can drop by several mornings a week before work.
“Your mother was pretty upset. She was crying on the phone. I had Theresa drive me over there,” Meme said, referring to one of her two best friends, the other being Frances Haddock, a wonderful British woman I met several years ago when I found my first body. I had a feeling she and Meme would make a great pair and I was right, or spot on, as Frances would say.
