Murder at the Art Class

by Nic Saint

  “Just tell me the whole story. What’s your name?”

  “Isabel.” She blew her nose, then continued, “Emmerich is insanely jealous. And then there’s the fact that we’re Chechen, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Emily, though she had no clue what this had to do with anything.

  “But Emmerich tends to take things too far. Even our father doesn’t guard me like a hawk each time I go out with a boy. My brother does. So when John broke up with me…”

  “You and John… were a couple?”

  She nodded. “At least I thought we were. To him I was probably just another fling. A notch on his belt.” She looked up at Emily. “Isn’t that the expression?”

  Emily nodded. “And Emmerich didn’t like that.”

  “He didn’t like it when I went out with John in the first place. Chechens and Silvistanians don’t get along. Historically, I mean. Many wars have been fought between our countries. And so when Emmerich discovered John was Silvistanian, he ordered me to break it off. As it happened I didn’t have to. John was already on to his next conquest—this Justyna woman,” she added bitterly. “But if I thought Emmerich would be happy—oh, no. He felt he needed to avenge my lost honor. No Silvistanian breaks a Chechen woman’s heart, he said. Not on his watch. As if he’s my personal watch commander.”

  “So that’s why he kept showing up here, and at the art class,” said Emily.

  Isabel nodded. “He said he was keeping an eye on John. But all he managed to do was make an absolute fool of himself. He didn’t even talk to him once, even though he kept saying he would beat him up—make him pay for what he’d done to me.”

  “So you think he… finally did what he promised?”

  Isabel dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, I think so. I told him just now he should just go to the police. But he refused. He said that John got exactly what he deserved and that your country is too soft on people like him. In Chechnya a man like John would have been drawn and quartered for what he put me through.” She offered Emily a watery smile. “That’s not true. Men aren’t drawn and quartered for breaking a girl’s heart. Not even in Chechnya. Would be nice if it were true.”

  “Maybe you should go to the police?” Emily suggested. “If you really believe your brother killed Jan.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he did,” said Isabel, having dried the last of her tears. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I better catch up with my brother before he does something stupid.”

  She didn’t mention what other stupid thing her brother could be up to, but instead gave Emily a grateful smile and then hurriedly left the shop, leaving Emily to stare after her, wondering if the police could possibly have arrested the wrong suspect.

  Clara came over. “What was that all about?”

  In a few brief words Emily explained the situation and Clara blew out a breath of surprise. “So he killed Jan just because he dumped his sister? Now that’s the kind of brother I wish I had. My brothers wouldn’t care if a dozen men dump me—or jump to my defense.”

  “It all seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

  “That’s how they roll in Chechina, I guess.”

  “Chechnya.”

  “That’s what I said. And he’s very handsome, too.”

  “And probably a killer.”

  “Did he tell his sister how he did it?”

  “As far as I can tell he didn’t confess. She just assumes he killed Jan.”

  “Add him to the list is what I say. Looks like handsome Jan had a lot of people who wanted him dead. Who would have thunk?”

  Not Emily. And yet there it was. First Justyna, now this Emmerich fellow.

  “I never told you my theory, did I?” Clara asked.

  Emily turned to her friend. “You have a theory?”

  “Of course I have a theory. I think the bodyguard did it.”

  “Tanton Skroch?”

  “Tanto Crotch. And I’ll tell you why.”

  She took a deep breath, clearly ready to launch into a full account of her theory.

  “Clara! What did I tell you about gibbering instead of working!” Teddy’s voice came from the other side of the shop.

  “Um, more gibber, less work?”

  “Smart-ass.”

  Clara grinned and returned to the counter, starting the end of day cleanup. Emily followed her and decided to tackle the coffee machine. Technically she wasn’t supposed to be there, but she wanted to hear what Clara had to say, and she couldn’t just stand there and watch her friend do all the work while she did nothing. “Go on,” she said. “Why would Tanton kill his boss?”

  “Because he was madly, deeply and desperately in love with him, that’s why.” While Teddy locked the front door and flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed,’ Clara collected the unsold pastries and put them in a box. “And he figured that since he couldn’t get Jan, no one should. Didn’t you see the way he kept looking at his young master?”

  “That’s because he was paid to keep an eye on him.”

  Clara tilted her head and gave her a skeptical look. “No one looks at the man they’re supposed to protect like that. Trust me. I’ve seen The Bodyguard at least a dozen times, and the way Kevin Costner looked at Whitney Houston is exactly the way Tonto looked at Jan.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Emily, dumping the coffee grounds into the trash.

  “Oh, I’m sure.”

  “I think you’ve got a point there, Clara,” said Teddy. “The way the Tontin guy kept ogling John felt real creepy to me. Like, stalker creepy.”

  “Not stalker creepy,” said Clara. “Madly in love creepy.”

  “So how did he do it?” asked Emily.

  Clara held up her hands. “That, I do not know. That’s for you to find out, oh, Great Detective Woman.”

  Teddy darted a funny look at Emily. “What did I miss?”

  “Only that the Silvistanian Kardashians have hired our Emily here to investigate Jan’s murder.”

  “I’ve not been hired to investigate Jan’s murder,” said Emily. “I haven’t been hired, period. All I agreed to do was talk to a few people. Maybe find out some stuff the police won’t be able to find out. Like the circumstances of Jan’s death. I’m pretty sure the police will solve this case—if they haven’t solved it already, now that they’ve arrested Justyna.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Clara. “As long as they haven’t arrested Tintin, the killer is still out there, ready to kill again at the drop of a hat.” She wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully. “Or when he develops a crush on his next male client and his advances get spurned again.”

  Chapter 13

  Emily closed the door of the coffee shop behind her and could soon be seen wending her way home. She hadn’t reached the end of the block when suddenly a hand closed on her arm like an iron band and yanked her into an alley. She screamed out in fear when she saw it was none other than Emmerich, Isabel’s tantrum-prone older brother.

  “What did you and my sister talk about?” he demanded hotly.

  She yanked her arm free from the man’s grip and stood glowering at him for a moment. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Oh, it is my business,” he spat, his eyes twin pools of obsidian. “Tell me!” he screamed, grabbing her arm again.

  “Let go of me!” she said.

  He did let go then, and dragged a hand through his dark hair. “It’s all going to hell,” he muttered. “First that damn Silvistanian, and now Isabel doesn’t want me near her.”

  “Can you blame her? You’re scaring her.”

  He seemed surprised by that. “Scaring her? You mean my sister is afraid of me?”

  “Of course. You behave like a madman.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I have been behaving like a madman, haven’t I?” He groaned, looking more and more like a man in despair, not a murderous maniac. “I just want to protect her, that’s all. Keep her safe in this horrible, terrible city.”

  “Your sister is a big girl, Emmerich,” said
Emily, experiencing a flicker of compassion for this obviously tormented soul. “I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

  “But she can’t, can she!” he wailed, turning on her again. “She threw herself at that monster’s mercy and if I hadn’t been there who knows what else she would have done!”

  “That monster? You mean Jan?”

  “Of course I mean Jan.”

  “Just because he broke up with her doesn’t make him a monster.”

  “Well, he was. Oh, I know men like him. They use and abuse women—use them then throw them away like yesterday’s paper. Only Isabel wasn’t one of his usual conquests. She didn’t understand the rules of the game. She fell for him. Hard. And when he was done with her, she was devastated. Without me, she…” He broke off suddenly and his face turned hard.

  “Without you, she what?” Emily prompted.

  She should have been scared of this madman—this possible murderer—but oddly enough she wasn’t. She had the impression he was exactly what he appeared to be: a young man devoted to his sister and determined to keep her out of harm’s way. Even if the way he went about it was rash and ill-advised to say the least.

  “When Jan Skrzypczak dumped Isabel it nearly destroyed her. Isabel isn’t the kind of girl who dates casually, like some girls her age do. She gave her heart to this man, and when he stomped on it, she… nearly ended it.”

  “Ended it? You mean… suicide?”

  He nodded. “She came very near to ending it all. It was only through her family’s love and support that she overcame the deep depression that swallowed her up. Unlike that other poor creature, she got over Jan, and managed to move on and restore her life.”

  “Other poor creature? What do you mean?”

  “There have been others—many of them—who were discarded by this horrible man. And at least one of them did end her life as a consequence of being treated so callously—so insensitively.”

  This was the first Emily had ever heard of this. “You mean one of Jan’s girlfriends killed herself?”

  “And is it any wonder?”

  “I… had no idea.”

  “It’s not the kind of thing a serial fornicator like Jan Skrzypczak would advertise.”

  “Do you know the name of this girl?”

  He shook his head. “I heard about her from your colleague Clara. It was enough to confirm my worst suspicions. And I knew I had to protect Isabel. Make sure she never came near this man again. Ever.”

  “Is that why you kept an eye on him? At the coffee shop, I mean, and the art class?”

  “Of course. I knew that Isabel would be drawn to him. Like a moth to the flame. The only thing to be done was keep her far away. And since I couldn’t very well lock her up in her room, I took a different approach. I chose to be near the monster—become his shadow—so that when Isabel was pulled into his orbit again, I would be there to prevent this calamity.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t follow him around so you could exact revenge for your sister’s lost honor?”

  The proud Chechen stuck out his chin. “I know that’s what the police think. I answered all their stupid questions so I’m not going to dignify your equally stupid comment with a response.”

  He started to walk away but she followed him. “How did you do it, Emmerich? How did you kill your sister’s tormentor?”

  They were on the sidewalk now, surrounded by people, so Emily felt safe to hurl these accusations at him.

  “Look, I understand, all right? You love your sister so it’s only natural you’d want to hurt the man who hurt her.”

  “I didn’t hurt him,” he said in clipped tones as he walked on.

  “But you wanted to, right?”

  He suddenly turned and she almost bumped into him. “Of course I wanted to hurt him.” His fists were clenched and a vein was throbbing at his temple. “Don’t you think I thought of all the ways I could exact revenge for my family’s lost honor? And to protect others from getting sucked into that man’s vortex of destruction? But the point is that I didn’t act on my desire to smash his face in with my bare hands. Or to cut his throat. Or even to remove certain parts of his anatomy with a blunt and very rusty potato peeler.”

  “Oh, wow. You’ve given this some thought.”

  A quick smile flashed across his face. “I had a lot of time to observe him, and certain thoughts kept popping into my head each time I saw that smug expression on his face.”

  “So you didn’t devise a way to kill him with a bolt shot from an invisible crossbow?”

  “No, I did not manage to think up this very impossible method of murder.”

  She studied him closely, and didn’t detect any sign of deceit. His expression had softened, and she had to admit Clara was right. He did look a little like Adrian Brody.

  “I think your sister is lucky to have you in her corner,” she finally said.

  He smiled, and it was almost as if the sun shone through the dark clouds. “Thank you. I may have been a little heavy-handed with her, and for that I will apologize.”

  “You’d better,” she said.

  He placed his hands together and took a slight bow. “I owe you an apology, too.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t scare so easily. Not even by extremely overbearing big brothers.”

  He laughed at this. “Hey, what are big brothers for?” But then he grew serious again. “I hope you believe me when I tell you that I didn’t kill Jan Skrzypczak. I may have gone a little overboard with the protectiveness but I am certainly not a murderer.”

  “The police made an arrest,” she told him. “So I guess that gets you off the hook.”

  “Who did they arrest?”

  “Justyna Tamowicz. Turns out she was working for the Silvistanian government.”

  He frowned. “That is odd.”

  “What is?”

  “Justyna was sitting next to me last night. In the art class? She never once got up from her seat. I would have noticed if she had.” He shook his head. “No way she killed Jan. Unless she’s developed supernatural powers.”

  Chapter 14

  Emily said goodbye to Emmerich, who’d shoved his hands into his pockets and retraced his steps back to the coffee shop where he presumably hoped to find his sister. Emily hadn’t told him Isabel had long left the shop. She might be an amateur detective now, but she wasn’t about to wade into family therapy as well. Somehow she had a feeling Isabel and her brother would be fine, though.

  She picked out her phone and dialed Clara’s number. Her colleague picked up on the first ring. “Still no charges filed against Justyna,” said Clara, sounding breathless.

  “They’re probably still interrogating her,” said Emily, flashing back to Shakespeare at the precinct, who’d looked harried and annoyed. “Which means she hasn’t confessed yet.”

  “Because she didn’t do it,” said Clara. “I told you—the bodyguard did it.”

  “But how? He never came near Jan.”

  “Silvistan is ex-Soviet Union, right? Well, I once saw a documentary about how they used hypnotherapy as a weapon. Would it be so crazy that they simply brainwashed Jan into sticking that bolt into his own eye?”

  “So where did he get the bolt? He didn’t have a stitch on.”

  “Oh, hell. I should have been there,” said Clara wistfully. “Couldn’t he have gotten that bolt from somewhere? Picked it up when you weren’t looking?”

  “I don’t think so. Besides, who would stick a sharp object into their own eye? You’d have to be crazy to do that.”

  “I just told you—hypnosis. Happens all the time.”

  “Of course it does.” It didn’t sound very plausible. “Oh, I just bumped into Emmerich—Isabel’s brother?”

  “The crazy person? He didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

  “Only a little. He said you told him one of Jan’s ex-girlfriends killed herself.”

  “No, I didn’t. I never exchanged more than two words with that cuckoo bird.”
/>   “Well, where did he get the story then?”

  “How should I know? He’s probably been hearing voices. He’s the type that does.”

  “So you don’t know anything about this suicide business?”

  “Nope. And I don’t think it’s true. I would have heard about it if it was. No, the real culprit here is either your Emmerich—”

  “He’s not my Emmerich.”

  “—or the bodyguard. And my money is on the bodyguard. Have you talked to him?”

  “He was at the interview with Jan’s sister, but I didn’t get a chance to chat.”

  “Make sure you do. But before you go in fire up your phone’s recording app.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to want to record his confession.”

  Ugh. Why had she ever agreed to this nonsense? She wasn’t a detective. She rang off and immediately called Taryn, before she had a chance to reconsider. “Taryn? Emily Stone.”

  “Oh, my very own private detective. Don’t tell me you found my brother’s killer?”

  “I’m working on it,” she said, mentally giving herself a head slap. “So do you think I could have a little chat with Tanton? Only if it’s convenient, of course.”

  “Oh, sure. You want to talk to him now? He’s right here.”

  It was very tempting. More tempting than having to travel all the way back to Manhattan. Then again, she probably needed to talk to the man face to face. Look into the whites of his eyes. Study his body language. Wasn’t that what all the great detectives did?

  “Can I drop by now? I can be there in an hour.”

  “Of course. I’ll tell him to give you all the help you need.”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell Taryn that Tanton had just risen to the top of the suspect list. At least until the police announced that Justyna had been charged with Jan’s murder. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s great.”

  “So you think he knows something, do you?” Taryn pressed.

  “Um, yeah. He might. I mean, he was best positioned to know what was going on with your brother. He might have seen something or heard something…” Or he might have used some mysterious method to murder the man he was madly in love with. Now that she thought about it, it seemed perfectly ridiculous. Then again, she’d vowed not to leave a stone unturned, and even if Tanton Skroch wasn’t the killer, at the very least he might have some idea who’d bumped off his charge.