Diana Killian - Murder On The Eightfold Path

A.J. nodded and let the heavy door swing shut.

She was touched, although she wasn’t convinced that Elysia wouldn’t have forged ahead on her own. She told herself she was acting as a moderating influence, and she hoped that was true. But as much as she wanted to leave the investigation to the police, as much as she wanted to believe that they would find Dicky Massri’s real killer without any help from her or Elysia, she knew things didn’t always work out the way they should.

She watched the Land Rover bouncing and bumping down the dirt road back to the highway, then she turned and let herself inside the house.

It felt warm and a little stuffy, so she opened the windows and went out on the back patio to call to Monster, who came around the side of the house looking guilty in the way only a dog digging for gophers in the flower beds can look.

“What have you been doing?” A.J. said in the deep, deep voice she always assumed for scolding Monster-on those rare occasions he needed scolding.

Monster promptly flattened his ears and looked cowed, although what he made of the deep, deep voice was anyone’s guess. The deep, deep voice was actually as far as A.J.’s punitive measures went. She sort of even secretly hoped that Monster might catch a few of the gophers in a display of natural selection, but she’d never seen any sign of success. Which, on second thought, was perhaps a good thing.

Monster tried to change the subject by indicating it was past his dinnertime, and A.J. fed him, made herself a grilled cheese sandwich. and pulled out Diantha’s box of notes and rough manuscript draft.

As always she found it centering, soothing, to read over her aunt’s thoughts. Diantha had been a mix of practicality and compassion. Well-educated and informed, she had also been imaginative and fiercely loyal to the causes she believed in and the people she loved. She had not been without her flaws, of course. She had also been stubborn and occasionally judgmental. Once she made up her mind, it was difficult to persuade her to see things another way, which was probably how A.J. and Lily had ended up as co-partners when anyone could see that that was a match made in Hell.

Words have tremendous power. Sometimes in the heat of the moment we forget this. We concentrate on winning the battle at hand and forget that winning a particular battle may cost us the war. Why do I speak of war and yoga in the same breath? Because our modern lives are full of conflict. Look around you. We all experience tension, conflict, anger. And what are we angry about? We believe that we have been wronged. What happens then? We scream. We scream to be heard. What then can we do for the angry among us? The first and most immediate thing we can do is listen.

A.J. jotted a couple of notes in the margin of the neatly typed page. Through the open window she could hear the sweet song of a bird settling in for the night, and Monster snuffling along the flower bed.

“Monster!” she growled.

The snuffling stopped. But in the silence she heard the approach of a familiar engine. Heart beating with sudden excitement, A.J. rose and looked out the front window.

Headlights were coming down the road.

The familiar four-wheel drive utility vehicle with police insignia pulled into her front yard and Jake got out.

A.J. went out on the porch to greet him. He kissed her hello-not a deep, passionate kiss, true, but not a perfunctory peck either.

“This is a surprise,” she said.

“Yeah. Well.” He followed her inside the house and down the hall to the kitchen. “I thought since I was in the area I’d come by and tell you what we found out on Dora Beauford.”

A.J. studied his stern profile. She knew Jake well enough to know he was about to give her news he didn’t want to deliver. Perhaps it was about the case against her mother. Perhaps not. Her nerves tightened.

She made herself guess out loud. “Dora Beauford has an alibi.”

He nodded grimly.

“What kind of alibi?”

“She was getting her hair done.”

“Where?”

Jake was already shaking his head. “Not at The Salon.”

“Did you ask?” She handed him a jar of ground coffee; the lid had a tendency to stick.

He opened it automatically, saying, “Of course I asked. I had to verify her alibi.”

“Did you ask her about The Salon?”

He hesitated.

“You didn’t. Why? What would it have hurt? Couldn’t you just this once have-”

“Hold on. Of course I asked,” he interrupted. “And, yes, she was a client for a time. But I think you’re pinning too much on that connection.”

A.J. scooped coffee into the machine. “And to think I believed Mother was jumping to conclusions. Jake, they’re running some kind of blackmail scheme out of The Salon.”

If she’d imagined she would surprise him with that theory, she was disappointed. Jake said, “I know that’s what you think-you might even be right-but nobody tried to blackmail Dora Beauford.”

“You questioned her about that? Specifically?”

“Believe it or not, A.J., I do know how to do my job.”

She had the grace to blush. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“I know. This time it’s personal.”

She grimaced. Personal and painful. Jake’s expression was uncompromising; he met her gaze unwaveringly. “I do understand. I promise you I’m following every lead.”

“Could Dora be lying?”

He shrugged. “It’s always a possibility. I didn’t get that feeling, though.”

A.J. studied his face. “But still, it’s too much to be a coincidence. That all of these women were connected to the same beauty salon?”

“I agree. Up to a point.”

“That point being?”

“Motive for murder.”

“I’m not following. If all these women are being blackmailed-”

“Honey-A.J. First of all, your mother already admits that she was being blackmailed. So there’s nothing new there.”

“But it’s a blackmail ring. It has to be.”

“Maybe. We haven’t proved that yet. But say you’re right. From the perspective of the DA, that doesn’t clear Elysia. Just the opposite.”

“But it has to throw some doubt. A blackmail ring means that there were other victims. Other women with a motive for wanting Massri out of the way.”

“Not necessarily. An argument could be made that all these women were being blackmailed but your mother is the only one who turned violent. You’ve also yet to prove a connection between Massri and The Salon. Shampoo bottles in the shower aren’t going to hold up in court. You said it yourself: the hair care products could belong to one of his lady friends.”

“But then Massri himself becomes the connection. The fact that he was involved with all these women and the women all went to the same salon? That has to be significant.”

He answered on what appeared to be a tangent. “The other problem I’ve got, from what you’ve managed to uncover, it’s these other women-the victims-who seem to be at risk.” He added quickly, as A.J. opened her mouth, “And from a blackmailer’s perspective, that’s not good business.”

“Maybe it was better business than the alternative. Peggy Graham’s sister says Peggy was aggressively pursuing whoever blackmailed her. Maybe someone was afraid of exposure.”

“Peggy Graham’s sister?” Jake inquired too politely.

“Er, yes. Actually, I was going to tell you about that.” She said quickly, trying to head him off, “Mother is, as I’m sure you could guess, really upset about Maddie’s death and when she remembered that Peggy Graham had a sister-”

Jake interrupted. “She’s snooping. Don’t bother to gift wrap it. She announced to the entire world she’d solve the damn case herself, and that’s exactly what she’s set out to do.”