Never Tease a Siamese Read online

  "No, that’s right, you don’t," she confirmed quickly. "Then what happened?"

  "Mrs. Murchison opened the door herself."

  Nikki took a deep breath. "Did you see her come in?"

  Jared shook his head. "She was already in, Nikki. She opened the door."

  Leigh stepped forward. "Jared, do you mean that Mrs. Murchison opened the door for somebody else to come in?"

  He nodded.

  Warren stepped around the women and began looking down the hall, cell phone in hand. Siamese were everywhere, but they were all strangely silent. Leigh squatted down on the floor next to Nikki and Jared. "Did you hear Mrs. Murchison and the other person talking?" she asked calmly.

  Another loud crack of thunder shook the still air, and the women both started. Jared didn’t seem to notice. "I heard the doorbell ring," he repeated. "I heard Mrs. Murchison open the door and shut it."

  He seemed to have no more to say. The friendly Siamese hopped onto his lap, shamelessly nudging his hand for a stroke. He obliged.

  "What happened after that, Jared?" Nikki urged. "Something must have happened. Why did you come up here?"

  The man’s eyes misted over. "I heard Mrs. Murchison scream, Nikki."

  Leigh heard the familiar sound of Warren’s cell phone beeping from down the hallway. He was talking to someone, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  "Mrs. Murchison screamed," Nikki said tensely. "And you came up to see what was wrong?"

  Jared’s face was stricken. "I’m not supposed to bother Mrs. Murchison, Nikki."

  "No, of course not," she agreed. "But you were worried about her, so you came upstairs."

  "She stopped screaming."

  "That was when you came upstairs?"

  He didn’t respond immediately. "When something’s around your neck tight you can’t breathe, Nikki. People got to breathe, Nikki. Animals too. Everything’s got to breathe, Nikki."

  Leigh’s pounding heart seemed to stop in mid beat. She rose.

  "That’s right, Jared," Nikki answered. "Everything’s got to breathe."

  "She couldn’t breathe, Nikki."

  Leigh continued down the hall in the direction of Warren’s voice. She found him standing at the doorway of a bedroom on the left side of the hall, and he quickly put out a hand to stop her.

  "Who couldn’t breathe, Jared?" Nikki was asking.

  Leigh looked over his husband’s outstretched arm and into the bedroom. Not five feet in front of her, a woman’s body lay on the floor, legs and arms sprawled, neck reddened, open eyes bulging. On one side of her blond head lay a heap of thin leather that looked like a whip. On the other lay a particularly ancient Siamese cat.

  Jared’s trembling voice drifted down the hallway.

  "Mrs. Murchison, Nikki."

  Chapter 15

  "If that cop so much as looks at Jared funny I swear to God I’ll pound him," Nikki fumed, pacing the hallway outside the Murchison kitchen. Leigh had practically pushed the female fireball out after she had begun to accost the perfectly polite Ben Avon police officer with her biceps-flexing routine. "Those cops’ll look at him like he’s some sort of animal and they’ll arrest him on the spot, I know they will."

  "No, they won’t," Leigh assured, projecting more confidence than she felt.

  "Do you have any idea what would happen to Jared in the county jail?" Nikki practically screamed. "Any idea?"

  In truth, Leigh knew much more about the Allegheny County jail than she cared to relay. "It won’t happen, Nikki," she continued. "Jared was just an innocent bystander, and the detectives will realize that when they get here."

  Nikki stopped pacing and threw her back against a wall of cabinets. "He pulled that whip away from her neck. His prints are going to be all over it."

  "That’s perfectly explainable. Any detective worth his or her salt knows that just because a person is first on the scene doesn’t make them the murderer." Leigh tried to get the words out without thinking unkind thoughts about Maura’s detective boyfriend, but it was tough.

  "Maybe we can help them figure out who their real suspects should be," she suggested. "Have you ever seen that whip before?"

  "Of course not! Mrs. Murchison would never keep anything like that lying around."

  "All right. There’s something. Whoever killed her brought it with them. And if someone came over here to kill her, they must have known that she wasn’t already dead."

  The younger woman sighed. "But everybody already suspected she was alive. Rumors were flying all over the place."

  "Okay," Leigh reasoned. "But only two people we know of stood to benefit from her death—at least monetarily. The mystery heir…and Dean."

  Nikki seemed to think a moment, then shook her head. "I still don’t believe there is a mystery heir. I told you Ms. Lilah liked to jerk people around. Why do you think she didn’t come forward after the airplane crash? She had to know it went down and that everyone thought she was on it." She muttered a series of extremely unkind words. "Screwing around with other people’s minds was what Lilah Murchison did best, believe me."

  "So then Dean must have done it."

  "No!" Nikki protested angrily.

  Leigh’s eyebrows rose. "Why not?"

  Nikki made an unintelligible sound of frustration and bounced back off the wall. "Because Dean’s a moron, that’s why. And a crybaby. He’s not the sort that goes around strangling people, least of all his mother. He talked a big game, but I’m telling you he was scared to death of her."

  "What about Rochelle?"

  "She can be a schemer, but —" Nikki shook her head. "I just can’t see it. Why would they kill Ms. Lilah now? Geez, once he knew she was alive, Dean would have been better off to make nice to her and try to get her to change her will again. Even if they got away with killing her, as things stand now they’d have to wait a whole five years for the money."

  Leigh debated with herself. She could swear Nikki really didn’t believe Mrs. Murchison had another child. Much less… "Nikki," she began before she could talk herself out of it. "Why are you so sure that Mrs. Murchison doesn’t have another heir? Because I’ve got to tell you; I think she does."

  The other end of the hallway filled with the form of a large man, and a familiar face looked them both over. He seemed puzzled for a moment, then smiled ever so slightly. "Hello. Detective George Hollandsworth, here. Allegheny County Homicide." He pointed a notebook towards Leigh. "You’re Bess Cogley’s niece, aren’t you?"

  She smiled too, also ever so slightly. Whenever she got referred to as Bess Cogley’s niece, it made her nervous. She had met Hollandsworth over a year before when he had investigated an incident near her aunt’s house in Franklin Park. Why he should remember her aunt’s name and not hers was something no one who knew her aunt would have to wonder.

  "Um, yes. Leigh Koslow. Nice to see you again."

  "Quite," he said pleasantly. "I understand you’re married now, to a County Councilman."

  Leigh nodded mutely. Evidently, the incident in Franklin Park had not been the last he had seen of her hopelessly flirtatious Aunt Bess. Interesting.

  The detective turned toward Nikki with his hand extended, but the younger woman stood perfectly still, staring daggers at him. When her tiny fists started to twitch, Leigh decided to intervene. "Why don’t we all go into the kitchen?" she said smoothly, waving Hollandsworth ahead while planting herself between him and Nikki. "I’m sure you have questions for all of us."

  And that he did—though when he proposed questioning them one at a time in the adjoining family room, starting with Jared, Nikki’s fists immediately went back into action. "I stay with my brother," she snarled. Jared was still sitting quietly at the table next to Warren, his head down. It was the same position he had been in since the police arrived, and he hadn’t said another word.

  "He’s mentally challenged, sir," the Ben Avon officer explained quietly. "He hasn’t responded to any of our questions."

  "My brother was born wit
h Down Syndrome," Nikki explained stonily. "You have to ask him questions in a certain way, or he won’t answer you. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t know the answers. He knows a hell of lot more than most people."

  Hollandsworth sized Nikki up with a tired look, then nodded. "All right. Stay as you are, then, if he’s comfortable. How about I ask the questions, and you translate as necessary. Just translate—no answering for him."

  Seeming a little more content, Nikki nodded. Jared relaxed again as she sat beside him, and when the questions came from her, he answered easily. They moved quickly through the business of establishing why he was in the house and what he was doing, but when they reached the part where the doorbell had rung, the young man got increasingly nervous.

  "And how long was it between the time the doorbell rang and when you heard the scream?" Hollandsworth asked, his eyes moving back and forth between the brother and sister as he scribbled on his pad.

  "He can’t—" Nikki began, but then she got an idea. "Jared," she asked, "Whose cage were you cleaning when the doorbell rang?"

  "Mr. Moto’s, Nikki. It was very messy, Nikki."

  "And whose cage were you cleaning when you heard the scream?"

  Jared thought about it. "Dr. Goldfinger, Nikki. Almost done with Dr. Goldfinger."

  Nikki looked up at Hollandsworth. "He always cleans left to right, top to bottom. Those cages are right next to each other, so I’d say five to ten minutes, max."

  The detective looked impressed. "And after he heard the scream, did he hear anyone leave? A door slamming?"

  Nikki bit her lip. "Jared, the person that Mrs. Murchison let inside the house. When they left, did you hear the door slam?"

  He seemed to shiver a little. "I heard a door slam, Nikki."

  "What were you doing when you heard the door slam?" Hollandsworth asked for himself.

  "I was taking off the thing, Nikki," Jared said softly. "The thing around her neck."

  His sister exhaled with a shudder. "The person was still in the house, then," she said out loud, her eyes wide. "They saw him with her."

  "Did you ever see the other person, Jared?" Hollandsworth asked.

  Jared simply shook his head.

  "Why did you go upstairs?" Nikki asked, cutting off the detective’s next question. "Did you go up right after you heard the scream?"

  Jared began to rock back and forth in his chair, obviously agitated. "I heard the scream, then I got Dr. Goldfinger’s food and water, Nikki. I’m not supposed to bother Mrs. Murchison. I got the food and water for Dr. Goldfinger and I—. I wanted to know why Mrs. Murchison was screaming, Nikki. I shouldn’t have bothered her. I don’t bother Mrs. Murchison."

  "You did good, Jared," Nikki broke in firmly. "You did everything just right." She stood up and walked over to Hollandsworth’s chair. "He’s had enough for now, do you hear me?" she whispered intently. "He feels guilty because he went against my instructions by going upstairs when Mrs. Murchison was home. He also feels guilty because another part of him thinks that if he’d gone upstairs as soon as he heard the scream, she might still be breathing. But none of this is his fault, and I won’t let anyone make him think it is. Understand?"

  Hollandsworth, who had the good sense to show no reaction at all to Nikki’s display of bravado, offered a solemn nod. "I think Jared can take a break for a while while I interview the rest of you. Just one more thing, though: how does he normally get through Mrs. Murchison’s security system to come in and clean?"

  "He has his own code," Nikki answered. "It’s a very complicated system. Any time he goes in or out, he uses his key and punches in his code. That keeps the system on in case anybody tries to open any of the doors while he’s working inside."

  "What if he forgets and opens a door to leave without punching in his code first?" Hollandsworth asked.

  "Jared never forgets his routine," Nikki said defensively. "The alarm didn’t go off tonight because Mrs. Murchison turned it off herself. She always turned it off completely when she came home; she was too lazy to learn how to manage the settings."

  Leigh wondered if Hollandsworth had taken note of the personal assistant’s distinct lack of empathy for her murdered employer. Whether Lilah had been killed in a plane crash four days before or strangled to death a matter of hours ago seemed of little consequence to Nikki. The only thing that appeared to matter was protecting her brother.

  "I’d like to interview you privately now, Ms. Loomis," the detective said emotionlessly, rising and pointing toward the door to the family room. "Shall we?"

  Nikki hesitated, throwing a nervous look at her brother. "It’s all right," Leigh said, moving over to take Nikki’s empty chair. "Jared will be fine. We’ll stay with him."

  Somewhat appeased, the younger woman stepped out with the detective. Jared perked up as soon as Leigh began chit-chatting with him about his routine at the clinic, but she was only half listening to his answers. Nikki’s reaction to Mrs. Murchison’s murder was nothing less than callous; her devotion to her brother, endless. Could she have no feeling at all for a woman she knew to be her biological mother?

  Maybe Leigh was wrong, but she didn’t think so.

  ***

  "I hope to hell you’ve got something good to eat," Maura Polanski announced when Leigh opened her front door at 6:45 the next morning.

  Leigh blinked back some cobwebs and squinted. "Did I invite you over?"

  Maura chuckled grimly as she walked inside. "What do you think?"

  "Um…I think not."

  "Ten points." Maura looked around the house as she strode purposefully toward the kitchen. "Where’s Harmon?"

  "Are you kidding me?" Leigh responded with a yawn. "You’ve got to get here earlier than this to catch the world’s most conscientious politician. Time is taxpayer money, you know."

  "Damn." Maura removed a bagel from the refrigerator and popped it into the toaster. "How is he?" she asked more seriously. "Okay?"

  Clearly, the detective had already heard all about last night’s adventure. "He took it like a trouper," Leigh answered, feeling a renewed sense of guilt. When you had karma as lousy as hers, you eventually got used to stumbling over dead people. But for Warren, it had been a first. And the fact that he had been involved at all was—of course—her fault.

  Maura poured herself the last cup of coffee, and began to make a fresh pot. "You know," she said philosophically, "I was all set to come over here and ream you out."

  "Does that mean—"

  "I’m not done talking yet," the detective said sternly, delivering her best glare. "I was going to come over and ream you out for sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong yet again, but then I thought to myself: Polanski, you’re going to get an ulcer. So why fight it? I thought maybe marrying Harmon would keep you in line, but now I see that you, my friend, attract crime like garbage attracts bees."

  "Lovely analogy. Thanks."

  "Any time." The bagel popped up, and Maura began slathering it with a huge knifeful of margarine. "So, here we go. As of this morning, the Avalon PD is turning over the case of the threats against the Koslow Animal Clinic to me, to investigate any possible connection to the murder of Lilah Murchison. Since I warned you approximately—" she glanced at the thick black plastic watch on her wrist, "eighteen hours ago to lay low about the threats and to stay the hell away from Dean and Rochelle Murchison, I’m assuming you’ve now talked to both of them and about three other suspects, plus you’ve got some new crackpot theory about who Murchison’s other kid is. Am I right?"

  Leigh sat down at the table and folded her arms defensively. "No, you’re not. For your information, I interviewed Dean and Rochelle Murchison exactly nineteen hours ago. And my theory is not crackpot. I’m 95% certain I know exactly who the real heir is."

  The detective threw her a long, hard look, then cursed under her breath. "I was kidding, Koslow."

  Leigh tried not to smile. "Oh."

  Maura exhaled loudly as she popped another bagel in the toaster, brought
the first to the table, and took out her notebook. "Now, start with nineteen hours ago," she said with a scowl, her round baby face a disturbing shade of red. "I want it short, to the point, and complete. Because if I find out later that it’s not—"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know," Leigh said with a wave of dismissal. "The disemboweling thing,"

  Maura narrowed her pretty blue eyes. "You’d better believe it."

  ***

  Leigh sat idly in her Cavalier, her eyes glued on the Civic parked in front of her. Between the endless visual replays of Lilah Murchison’s twisted body that had kept her up most of the night and the extra crack-of-dawn police grilling, her brain was fried.

  Nothing about Lilah Murchison’s murder made any sense to her, but—she dutifully kept telling herself—it didn’t have to. Because both good and common sense dictated that now was the time for her to wash her hands of the whole ugly mess. Trying to figure out who was pestering her dad’s staff was one thing, but bumping into a murderer in the night was another. And with Maura on the case, the threats at the clinic were sure to get the attention they deserved. Her assistance in the matter was no longer needed—nor, as the detective had made so abundantly clear—wanted.

  Furthermore, after hearing all Leigh had to say, Maura herself did not seem in the least bit confused. According to the detective, it was blatantly obvious that Dean and Rochelle were the prime suspects in both the threats and the murder.

  It seemed blatantly obvious to Leigh, too. But it also seemed dead wrong.

  She sat for almost ten minutes, waiting for some reasonable explanation to pop into her head for why she gave a damn if Dean and Rochelle were falsely accused of anything. None did. Maybe it was some primitive sense of justice, or maybe it was just an ego thing. Either way, the issue didn’t justify the mental energy she had already put into it, much less the waste of any more.