Diana Killian - Murder On The Eightfold Path

Perhaps the possession of the key was a point in her mother’s favor. After all, it would be a pretty stupid-or totally eccentric-murderess who decided to kill her victim in her own front yard when she had a key to the victim’s home. In fact it would be a pretty stupid murderess who killed her victim in her own front yard whether she had a key to the victim’s home or not.

“Does Jake know you have a key to Dicky’s home?”

“It’s none of his business.” Elysia selected a cigarette from the silver box, but did not light it. She’d been talking about quitting for the last month or so but being charged with murder was probably not doing much for her resolve.

Was it Jake’s business that her mother had a key to the murdered man’s home? A.J. wasn’t sure. “Did he ask?”

“No.”

A.J. studied her mother’s austere profile. “What on earth did you two talk about?”

“I assume you mean Dicky and I?”

A.J. nodded.

“We talked about all kinds of things. Oh, nothing of earth-shattering importance. We laughed a good deal. He was very good-natured. Very good company. He knew how to listen. Or how to pretend to listen, which is nearly as good.”

Keeping in mind Stella’s observations on loneliness, A.J. said, “But why him?”

“Oh, he chose me, pumpkin. I told you I wasn’t looking for anything like that.”

“Why do you think he chose you?”

At Elysia’s look of affront, A.J. said, “He was blackmailing you, Mother. It obviously wasn’t just about your sparkling personality.”

Elysia half-closed her eyes, considering. “Mmm. Tactless but true. There were several of us on the cruise. Unattached women of a certain age. Dicky was very pleasant, very charming with all of us, but gradually he seemed to narrow his focus. I remember the others taking the mickey out of me about it.”

“Do you think you were more receptive to his advances?”

“I don’t know that I was,” Elysia said. She seemed reflective not defensive. “Nor was I the wealthiest. I was, if I may say so, by far the best looking.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Thank you, pumpkin. Women my age do have a tendency to let themselves go. So I think it was probably a combination of factors. I was attractive, receptive, and sufficiently well off.”

“Do you think it was the first time he’d ever tried anything like that?”

Again Elysia seemed to have to cogitate. “As much as I’d like to think so… no.”

“Why?”

Elysia sighed. “Looking back, I can see that it all seemed to go rather like clockwork.” She clarified, “As though we were on a timetable-his timetable.”

“So you do think he was a professional blackmailer?”

“It obviously wasn’t full-time. He was employed by the cruise line.”

“But imagine what a nice supplementary income he could collect if he scored one blackmail victim per cruise.”

“I’d like to think it wasn’t quite as common as buses running…” Elysia made a face. “I suppose it was, though. He did seem to have it down to a science.”

“How did he approach you? Once the deed was done, I mean. Did he present you with photos?”

“Yes.”

“Then he must have had an accomplice. Unless the camera was in his bow tie?”

Elysia tittered at some mental image. Then she sobered. “He did have an accomplice. One of the stewards. A little rat-faced man. I’m quite sure they were in it together.”

“Did the little rat-faced man emigrate, too? Have you ever seen him since?”

“I never saw any sign of him after I left the cruise ship.”

“Maybe he didn’t like the partnership being broken up?”

Elysia tapped the unlit cigarette meditatively. “I think that’s weak, pumpkin. It’s very hard to picture a man following another halfway across the world just to twep him for breaking up their partnership.”

“Twep?”

“Terminate with Extreme Prejudice,” Elysia said tartly.

“Ouch.”

“Qeb, the ship steward, was quite a different sort of person from Dicky. Such a trip would have been extremely difficult and frightening for him. He was rather… rustic.”

“All right. Scratch Qeb. So it must have been one of Dicky’s other victims.”

Elysia said nothing.

“Unless he had some other means of support? Obviously he couldn’t continue to work for the Egyptian cruise line, but maybe he found something else?”

“I doubt it. I never saw any sign of gainful employment. Frankly, it would have been a pain working our trysts around a nine-to-five schedule.”

“Yes, I’m sure most people agree with that. Mother, are you sure you have no idea about any of Dicky’s other lady friends?”

“He wouldn’t have introduced us, pumpkin.”

“You never heard him mention anyone? Never saw a name on a note or an envelope?”

“I would hardly read his mail, Anna.”

This had been a sore point for a time during the tumultuous years of A.J.’s parents’ marriage. She said bluntly, “You would if you were sleuthing.”

“Oh.” Elysia’s expression changed. “True. But unfortunately I didn’t. I suppose I didn’t want to learn anything that might spoil the fun.”

“What about phone conversations? Or messages on his answering machine?”

Elysia brightened. “Actually, now that you mention it, I did hear a name once. Dora… Boombox. No. Bombeck? Hmmm. Beauford. That was it. She used to ring the poor boy up all hours of night and day. She was besotted.”

“Besotted.” Now there was a good old-fashioned word. “You mean she was stalking him?”

“I don’t know if stalking is the right word. She did grow increasingly angry and she did seem to be making rather a nuisance of herself.”

“Do you know if she ever threatened him?”

“He could be very exasperating.”

“So she did threaten him? Mother, maybe this Dora Beauford had something to do with Dicky’s death. Did you tell Jake about her?”

Elysia shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because that was months ago, pet. I don’t believe Dicky was still in contact with her.”

“But you don’t know. That’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to let the police determine.”

“Well, if she was still in contact, they’ll know by now. They took his cell phone.”

A.J. nodded absently, thinking.

“Well?” Elysia asked after a time.

“Well what?”

Elysia studied her unlit cigarette tip. “Shall we try a spot of the old B &E?”

A.J. stared at her in consternation. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Joking? I’m most certainly not joking. We’re discussing my life and liberty.”

“It’s your life and liberty I’m thinking of. Talk about finding the fastest possible way to get yourself thrown back in jail! I can’t believe you’d even suggest it.”

Elysia’s brows raised. “Never mind the lecture, pumpkin. Yes or no?”

“It’s no. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances are we sneaking into Dicky’s flat.”

Dicky Massri lived-formerly lived-in an innocuous two-story apartment building in Hackettstown. It looked like a hundred other places: hardy generic gardens surrounding pseudo-Colonial red brick and black shutters. It did not look like the lair of a master blackmailer.

“Are you sure this place doesn’t have a security guard?” A.J. asked doubtfully, glancing up at the windows on the second story as they approached the complex.

Elysia didn’t bother to answer that. “See,” she threw over her shoulder as she led the way briskly up the cement walkway to the side entrance. “No crime scene tape.”

A.J. followed her, watching uneasily as Elysia inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Far across the expanse of patchy lawn she could see a gardener bouncing along on one of those ride-on mowers.