by Elaine Macko
“And you like a good mystery. I see. Well, we have no bodies for you here, Alex, though I suspect you have a few questions. I’m sure your husband mentioned I was counseling Martine and you’d like to see if you can find out anything from me.”
I blushed. “Well, yes, I guess you can say I am a bit curious.” I thought for a moment of how I should phrase my questions without giving away the fact Martine was pregnant when she died. “It’s just Martine seems to have been unhappy at the time of her death. At least I gathered as much from what she told me, and I wondered if her unhappiness could have contributed to her murder in some way.”
“Well, I would imagine it certainly would.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“Please understand,” said Tom, his tall, thin body tense, “I can’t divulge anything she told me in confidence, but I’m sure the police are well aware of certain facts and if they haven’t arrested Paul Cassé yet, they probably will any time now.”
“Arrest Paul,” I gasped. Surely Tom didn’t know what he was talking about. “Whatever for?”
Tom gave me a look that said simpleton. “For Martine’s murder, of course.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe Paul Cassé killed his wife. We’ve talked with him ourselves and yes, they had problems,” I shook my head, “but nothing that would lead to murder, for pity’s sake. I’m sorry, but I disagree.”
“I have to agree with my sister, Tom. I know the husband is always the first on the police’s list, but what on earth would make you think Paul killed Martine?”
“He must have, you see,” Tom said looking from Sam to me. “He was beating her.”
Chapter 17
“Beating her! What on earth ever gave you that idea?” I asked.
“Martine told me herself. Oh. I’m sorry, I can’t say anything more. I’ve betrayed a confidence already. What on earth is wrong with me?”
“All professional confidences aside, you must tell the police this. I don’t understand why you haven’t mentioned it already,” I said trying to hide the anger in my voice.
“I didn’t mention it to the police because I didn’t think it my place. I thought it should come directly from Paul. Obviously, it hasn’t. Oh, dear, you’re right. I must tell Inspector Willix. I should have his card in my office somewhere. What was I wearing on Saturday night? Maybe I left it in a pocket.” Tom Mulberry became quite flustered. “I’ve been holding back important evidence, haven’t I? What could I have been thinking letting Paul get away with murder?”
“Well, you’ve had a lot on your own mind what with the promotion and all,” I said trying to bring the conversation back to a less frantic level. “Just call them right now and tell them what you just told us. Oh, I just can’t believe it. We’ve been taken in, Sam. I just hate when that happens!”
We left Tom to make his phone call in peace. We both suspected Jobeth had something to do with the fact Tom didn’t tell the police of the beating. Jobeth didn’t look like the type who would want to be involved in a murder investigation and with Tom’s promotion almost a certainty she seemed to have her hands full with last minute campaigning. Sam and I had a strong feeling Jobeth was the force behind Tom as far as his career was concerned.
Sam consulted our map for the directions back to the American Women’s Overseas Lobby. I checked my watch and found it was only 11:45. We still had plenty of time to get there and have lunch. I had only had one croissant for breakfast, leaving the others to Sam and I suddenly felt very hungry.
I started up the onramp to the motorway when I realized I was going in the wrong direction. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” I pulled to the right so I could make a U turn and get off as soon as the car coming down the ramp exited. “I really need to get a handle on what all these signs mean.” I wiped my brow with the back of my hand. “That was scary. Good thing there was only the one car. I bet I scared him pretty bad.”
“Yeah, I think that middle finger he showed you said it all,” my sister said.
After a few more wrong turns, we finally found ourselves in the general area of the women’s club—at least I hoped so.
At first glance the area looked more like a farming community and I hoped I hadn’t made another wrong turn. We came upon a small pasture complete with cows and sheep. A little further up the road was another pasture with huge Belgian workhorses. The farmhouse next to the field was a rather large and old square structure made of stones painted white. It surrounded a cobblestone courtyard and probably housed several families, or various generations of the same. Through the entryway, I could see a farmer and several pieces of machinery. A small dog ran around in circles yapping at a bale of hay.
“You know, this would make a great picture.” I pulled the car to the side of the road and Sam jumped out and took a picture. I thought a watercolor painting of the lush green earth, blue sky, and a cow or two would look just lovely above my new fireplace. Maybe if Sam’s photos turned out, I could find someone to paint me a picture using one as a model.
I got out of the car, hoping to get a closer look at the cows in a small, enclosed area on the other side of the farmhouse. Just as I started across the narrow road, a car came out of nowhere.
“Alex! Watch out!” Sam screamed.
I turned, almost in slow motion, and seeing the car, leaped across the road falling against the chain-linked fence. I came eye-to-eye with one of the cows, scaring it to death.
Sam raced to my side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t say the same for that poor cow. Probably won’t give milk for a month.”
“How can you laugh at a time like this?”
“Oh, Sam, I’m okay. I think if we lived in this country, we’d be used to dodging cars. They do drive like idiots here, don’t they?” I regained my balance and wiped my hands on my jeans.
“Yeah, they do. First we almost get killed going the wrong way onto the turnpike….”
“Motorway.”
“Whatever. And now this.”
“In all fairness, there were signs at the motorway we just couldn’t understand them. And as far as that idiot goes,” I looked down the road to where the car had disappeared in a cloud of dust, “he drives like most everyone else around here. These people don’t even stop at crosswalks, why should we expect them to stop for some tourist who’s paying no attention to what she’s doing.”
“You’re more forgiving than I would be.” Sam walked back to the car. “At least I got some good pictures of the farm.”
About a half-mile down the road we made a right turn and it suddenly began to look more residential. Cars, some with U.S. license plates, were parked all along the fashionable street. The houses in this area where large and well tended and an overabundance of trees gave the whole street a woodsy feel. Most of the houses had large front lawns and brightly colored flowers in full bloom. A sign on the gate of one of the larger houses said it was an embassy residence. The house used for the club was across the street from the embassy home and was of weathered brick with green shutters. It was a massive structure but had a warm, welcoming appeal. I parked the car and started to open my door just as another car whizzed by at the speed of sound. It would be a miracle if I made it back to Indian Cove in one piece. We got out of the car and walked across the street to the clubhouse.
Other than a small plaque by the front door saying, American Women’s Overseas Lobby, it was indistinguishable from the other houses. I pushed the door open and we entered into a beehive of activity and hoped Donna Parmelee was among the workers.
Chapter 18
Bill gestured John into his office with an agitated wave. He was on the phone and mouthed the words, take a seat. “How the hell was I supposed to know the Swiss Generale de Banque was going to sell out to another bank, Len? Be realistic. It was a gamble and now it’s time to pay.”
John looked around the room as Bill listened with growing anger to the voice on the other end of the line. The large office wa
s well appointed and a window behind Bill offered a fantastic view of Brussels. If John was correct, one of the spires sticking up in the middle of the skyline was coming from the Grand Place.
“Of course I made a huge commission, but you stood to make an even greater profit!” Bill’s angry voice made John turn around. “I told you from the beginning leverage deals were risky. Hey, you listen. I’m your financial advisor, not your mother, dammit. No one forced you to invest. I’m just telling you if you don’t come up with more collateral, you’re going to lose everything. No one, not even me, could foresee this buyout and the fact the new buyers would change the rules. Yeah, well obviously they can, can’t they?” Bill’s tone calmed down a bit. “Well, if we cash in some of your holdings with Flemings, we might be able to come up with the rest. I know they’re doing well. You’ve got five days to decide. I’ll see what else I can come up with. Just hold tight for a few more days and I’ll figure something out.” Bill put the phone down and for a few minutes didn’t say anything. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and were now slowing sliding down his large face and landing in his beard, which was in dire need of a trim.
“Trying to grow a beard to rival Moses?” John asked, bringing Bill into the present.
“Huh? Oh. John. I’m sorry. I forgot you were sitting there. No, just didn’t have time to trim it this morning. Or yesterday.” Bill ran his fingers over his hairy chin.
“If this is a bad time, I can come back.”
“I’m afraid if you waited, there wouldn’t be a good time.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
Bill pushed some papers around on his desk. “No. I have about thirty-three clients invested in a rather risky deal. And now, well, I won’t bore you with the details but they act as if I’m God, for Christ’s sake. I give advice, I don’t predict the future. Well,” Bill sighed, “never mind. What brings you here?”
“I’ve been working with Inspector Willix. We’re here to see Doug. The inspector dropped me off in front while he tries to find a parking space.”
“Whatever happened to our carefree youth?” Bill asked. “How did everything get so complicated?”
“We grew up.”
A few minutes later John and Inspector Willix were ushered into Doug Parmelee’s office. They had decided beforehand Gerard would do all the talking as John had absolutely no official capacity whatsoever.
“So, Inspector Willix, John, what can I do for you this morning? Do you have any news about Martine’s murder?”
“Nothing concrete for the moment. I just have a few more questions I would like to ask you.”
“Certainly,” Doug said from the other side of the desk. John wondered if the man knew what was coming, but if he did, he gave no indication.
“It seems you omitted a rather important bit of information from our interview of the other night.”
“I did? I’m sorry. Does it have something to do with Martine’s position here?”
“No. It is of a very private matter. It has come to my attention you and Martine had an affair.”
Doug shifted his tall frame in the chair and focused his piercing blue eyes on the inspector. “Oh, dear. I hoped that news wouldn’t come out.” He sighed but didn’t seem nervous. “Well, now that it has, what would you like to know?”
“How long ago did it start and when exactly did it end?”
“Whew. Let me think.” Doug pushed his hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his head. “It began about eight or nine months after we all started working together. Martine and Paul were living together. They weren’t married yet but were planning on it in a few months. But then I was, wasn’t I?” Doug had the decency to look shamefaced. “It lasted about a month, maybe six weeks. And ended about two years ago.”
“Forgive me for asking and for my bluntness, but why did you have an affair? You have a lovely wife, very beautiful, in fact.”
“Yes, I do. The affair with Martine only lasted a month. The guilt was killing me. I’m not cut out to do that sort of thing. And I assure you it was the first and only time I’ve strayed. As to why, I don’t know exactly. Martine started flirting with me from the beginning, but no.” Doug put both of his hands up. “I don’t want to put the blame on her. It was a two-way street. I was just starting out here with my own business, along with Bill, and the stress was tremendous. Plus my wife and I had been trying to have a baby for a long time. We had so many tests and I guess it just all got to me. Not a very good excuse, is it?” Doug looked truly sorry for the affair.
“I’m not here to pass moral judgment, Monsieur. None of us are perfect, no? But if your mistakes, past or present, lead to murder, then I will pursue every avenue. Getting back to my questions, do you and your wife have children now?”
Doug brought his hands together and leaned forward resting them on the desk. “No. We don’t. Despite all we went through, it just never happened. It turned out my wife was the one with the problem and she went through several painful operations but we still were never able to conceive. I wouldn’t mind adoption, but Donna doesn’t want to hear about it. If it wouldn’t be out of line for me to ask you something, Inspector, why does my affair with Martine have anything to do with her murder? As I said, it ended a long time ago.”
“That is precisely what I am trying to ascertain—when it ended. Did your wife know of this affair?”
“Yes. Well, no. Not while I was having it, but I told her later. Maybe I shouldn’t have and maybe I did it to appease my own guilt but after it was over, I told her. She said she suspected it. I don’t know why you think it’s so imp—Ah. You suspect Paul killed her because he found out about the affair. That’s it, isn’t it? It ended so long ago. Why would he have waited all this time?”
“No, I suspect no one for the moment. Madam Cassé was pregnant when she was killed.”
“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” Doug shrugged.
“It is impossible the baby was Monsieur Cassé’s.”
Doug tilted back in his chair and crossed his arms, letting out another sigh. “I see. So Martine must have been with someone else.”
“Yes, it looks like that is true.”
“At the risk of protesting too much, please believe me my relationship with Martine in the past two years has been strictly a professional one.”
“Do you have any idea as to whom Madam Cassé may have been seeing?”
“No. None at all. I was under the impression she and Paul were happy. After they got married I just assumed all was well between them.”
“One more question; being the two of you were intimate at one time, did you find it difficult to work together?”
Doug thought this over for a moment. “No, not at all. As a matter of fact, it was almost as if the affair never happened. Other than work-related issues, we didn’t talk much, never had lunch together or anything. I think, at least on my part, I realized what a mistake it was and I just put it out of mind. I’m pretty sure Martine did the same.”
“And your wife never pressed you to get rid of her and to find another secretary?”
“Yes, at first, when I told her, yes she did. That’s only natural. But Bill was happy with Martine, and he didn’t know about us, plus she did an excellent job. And then with all the problems my wife and I went through and the operations, the affair just ceased to be important.”
“Just one more question. Do you use dental floss?”
“Excuse me? Did you say dental floss?”
“I did? Do you floss, Monsieur?”
“Well, yes,” Doug laughed, “I do. So does my wife. What does this have to do with anything?”
“Bien,” the inspector rose from his seat, “Thank you for your time. I’ll let you get back to work.”
*****
Before going to lunch John and Inspector Willix made one more stop.
“Bon. Then speaking hypothetically, Doctor, if someone had the same procedure as Paul Cassé, could it be reversed?
” Inspector Willix asked the elderly doctor who had performed the vasectomy on Paul Cassé and who now seemed reluctant to divulge any details claiming patient-doctor confidentiality.
“Well, hypothetically speaking, bien sûr! It could be done.”
“But you are not going to tell me whether Monsieur Cassé came to you with such a request?”
“I will tell you, hypothetically, of course, I have had no patients come to me in over a year wishing to have the procedure reversed.”
“Bon. Thank you for your time.” Inspector Willix clapped his hands together and he and John left the office.
Chapter 19
Donna Parmelee was not a happy woman. She stood behind the bar of the women’s club café while she poured what looked like iced tea into several glasses. When this was done, she took the glasses and delivered them to a table, placing them in front of three women and giving each a smile. She walked back to the bar and I noticed how tall and thin she was. And also very pretty. Both she and her husband were extremely good looking people. She had thick, expertly highlighted hair, which she pulled back into a ponytail and of course it looked terrific. So I already had to hate her, right? She wore a pair of Liz Claiborne black walking shorts and a black and white blouse, which set off the highlighted strands of her hair. When she was approached by someone, she smiled and chatted, filling drink orders with ease. But when she was alone, I noticed a tense expression had come over her face and the bright blue eyes lost their sparkle.
Sam and I sat at a table alone and hadn’t yet spoken to Donna. We consulted the menu and placed our order for the day’s special with the cheery young woman who stood at our table. She explained everyone in the club, with the exception of the chef, the nursery attendant, and a secretary, were volunteers. At present, there were over twelve hundred members, and from all the activity, I thought a good portion of them were at the club today. The waitress, whose name was Helen, said this was a rather quiet day. Most of the members returned to the United States or some other holiday destination for the summer. Just a few remained for the summer and thus, the clubhouse hours were reduced.
