Diana Killian - Murder On The Eightfold Path

The next morning, Tuesday, A.J. and Elysia drove back to Stillbrook to see Bradley Meagher at his home office. Mr. Meagher greeted them cordially enough although he seemed just a little stiff with Elysia.

He led the way down a short hallway to his office in the basement of the gracious old Victorian house. It was a comfortably cluttered room with a collection of mismatched and battered furniture. Framed law degrees and honorary diplomas adorned the walls. The remnants of a TV dinner sat on the table next to a long leather couch. A white cockatoo in an enormous old-fashioned birdcage scooted along his perch and harshly called out, “You da bomb!”

Mr. Meagher threw the bird a beleaguered glance and stepped behind his large, cluttered desk. Something about that move and the funny, half-awkward look Mr. Meagher threw Elysia as he sat down put A.J. in mind of someone retreating behind the safety of a barrier.

“Well now,” Mr. Meagher said briskly, staring down at the file on his desk. He began to bring them up to date on the progress in the DA’s attempt to build the case against Elysia.

Yes, A.J. was now convinced that Mr. Meagher was uncomfortable with Elysia and wishing to keep both physical and emotional distance between them. A glance at her mother’s face confirmed her suspicion. Elysia was watching Mr. Meagher with a perplexed expression. Perplexed and perhaps a little hurt.

“The forensics report confirms that the gun used in Maddie Sutherland’s murder was almost certainly the same as that used in young Massri’s.”

A.J. remembered that Mr. Meagher must have, given the recollections of her mother and Maddie during their dinner together, known Maddie as well. He seemed businesslike and unmoved by her death. But perhaps they had not cared much for each other? Or perhaps he hid his feelings well?

“Have they found the gun?” A.J. asked.

“No, that they haven’t.”

Elysia drawled, “I’m surprised Herr Bormann-”

“That’ll be enough of that, me girl,” Mr. Meagher broke in sharply, his face flushing. “One reason you’re out on bail now is Jake Oberlin spoke up for you. The DA and nearly everyone else involved in the prosecution of this case thought you too great a flight risk.”

There was a hint of color in Elysia’s ivory face, too. She lifted a slim, dismissing shoulder, but said grudgingly, “If that’s true, I suppose I owe him thanks.”

“If it’s true?” Mr. Meagher repeated. “Tis not meself who plays games with the truth!”

Elysia’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mr. Meagher appeared to struggle with himself.

“Hey, dude!” cried the cockatoo. “Let’s party!”

Mr. Meagher muttered a curse and rose to throw a faded blanket over the cage.

For the first time, A.J. forced herself to objectively consider whether Mr. Meagher might have had a motive to kill Dakarai. She dismissed the idea quickly, remembering Mr. Meagher’s obvious shock at discovering that Elysia had been having an affair. Of course, he could have been acting; A.J. had seen plenty of TV movies where just such scenarios played out, in which case Mr. Meagher might have framed Elysia in the hope of driving her to turn to him for help.

Still. Mr. Meagher? That was pretty hard to believe-and not just because A.J. was very fond of the old rascal.

She observed him surreptitiously as he returned to his desk, and decided the idea was simply too far-fetched. Mr. Meagher probably did nurse unrequited feelings for Elysia, but that was still a long way removed from knocking off her gigolo lover. For one thing, Mr. Meagher was far too practical. He’d be bound to see that getting rid of Massri wouldn’t help his own situation, nor was Elysia likely to change her feelings for him this late in the game simply out of gratitude.

Actually, now that she thought of it, A.J. wasn’t exactly sure what her mother’s feelings for Bradley Meagher were. She was clearly fond of him, considered him a friend… but observing the uncertain way Elysia was studying her old friend, A.J. wondered if Elysia herself had ever worked out exactly what she felt for Mr. Meagher.

“Mr. Meagher, what’s our next move?” A.J. asked. “Surely the fact that the police haven’t found the murder weapon works in our favor?”

“That it does. The problem remains that there is no other viable suspect.”

“But all that means is the police haven’t found him-or her-yet. Have you been able to get any further with the SCA?”

“Not so far,” Mr. Meagher said grimly. “I’m planning to make a regular nuisance of meself until someone in that bloody country and organization will talk to me.”

“I think it is a valid lead. Even Jake told me that the police have finally begun to explore the angle that Massri might have been involved in illegal activities regarding antiquities. There must be something there or they wouldn’t be bothering to dig any further when they’ve already charged Mother.”

“Now, now. The police prefer that the right villain go to prison for the crime,” Mr. Meagher remonstrated automatically. But he was clearly considering her words. “If new information has come to light-”

“Well, it must have, although I have no idea what it would be. Jake didn’t confide more than that to me.”

Mr. Meagher’s brows rose. He reached for a legal pad and began making notes. Unfortunately there wasn’t a great deal more that A.J. could tell him.

“I’ll talk to Jake Oberlin,” he assured A.J. “Put a wee bit of pressure on him.”

“Just make sure he understands that this was a line of investigation you were already pursuing,” A.J. said, remembering some uncomfortable moments in the past between her and Jake.

Elysia sniffed dismissively but withheld comment.

“What about gambling debts?” A.J. suggested suddenly. “Mother, did you tell Mr. Meagher about Dicky betting on horse racing?”

Mr. Meagher looked up. “He played the ponies? Did he indeed?”

“Yes,” Elysia said reluctantly. “But it really wasn’t the sort of thing you’re hoping for. Perfectly decent people do gamble for fun now and then. It doesn’t always lead to losing one’s home or having men named Guido turn up with baseball bats.”

“True,” A.J. conceded. “But Dicky wasn’t a perfectly decent person. He was a blackmailer and probably a thief and he took advantage of vulnerable old ladies.” Seeing her mother’s indignant expression, A.J. added, “As well as you.”

Elysia subsided, mollified.

A.J. stayed in town to have lunch with her mother-Mr. Meagher excusing himself on the grounds of a prior commitment-and then drove out to the studio. The lobby was relatively quiet as classes were in session. A.J. greeted Emma and went straight to her office.

She had switched on her laptop and was glancing through the morning mail when she realized Lily had followed her into her office.

Lily said, “So nice of you to join us.”

“I’m sorry?” This was a little bizarre when she had been trying all day yesterday to get Lily to schedule time with her.

Lily smiled a tight little smile. “You seem to be keeping banker’s hours these days. We had a problem with the upstairs restrooms this morning.”

What the-? Did A.J. look like Josephine the Plumber?

But no, that wasn’t fair. As co-manager, A.J. did have a responsibility to be at the studio at least as often as Lily.

“What was the problem with the upstairs restroom?”

“One of the toilets shattered.”

“One of the…” A.J.’s voice faded out. “The seat shattered?”