Diana Killian - Murder On The Eightfold Path

“Why do you think Massri was shot in Mother’s yard?” she asked.

Mr. Meagher glanced at her quickly and then away. “Perhaps it was a matter of expediency.”

“But for all the killer knew he was shooting Massri in front of a house full of people. It was Easter morning. Well, late Easter morning-all the more reason to fear a house full of people.”

Mr. Meagher seemed to mull this over as he moved away from the birdcage to his sofa. He scraped the usual pile of newspapers off the cushions to the floor. “Perhaps there was some time factor we’re unaware of. Some reason Massri had to be eliminated right then.”

“The police found an engagement ring in a hollowed chocolate egg.”

Mr. Meagher’s expression was hard to decipher. “I was thinking more in the nature of some vital information he might have revealed.”

“Like what?”

Mr. Meagher shook his head.

“What could Massri have known that would be time-sensitive enough to risk killing him in front of witnesses?”

Unless the killer had known the house would be empty? Was the killer someone who knew what time Elysia’s guests were arriving? Could the killer have possibly known that Elysia had left the house to try and find evaporated milk?

Mr. Meagher seemed to have no answer. He said, “Revenge perhaps?”

“Revenge against Mother?”

“I was thinking Massri, but I suppose the other is possible. I suppose someone might have wanted your mither blamed for the crime.”

That tied all too well into A.J.’s only half-considered theory that Mr. Meagher might have killed Dakarai in such a way as to put Elysia in a situation where she needed his help. It was so… so Machiavellian. But beneath his slightly foolish-seeming demeanor Mr. Meagher was a shrewd and intelligent man.

A.J. said awkwardly, “You’ve known Mother a long time.”

Mr. Meagher’s face softened. “Aye. Since she was sweet seventeen.”

“Do you think-?” She stopped. How on earth could she ask someone like Mr. Meagher if he was a) in love with her mother, b) jealous enough to kill a romantic rival, and c) crazy enough to frame the object of his romantic interest?

“Our theory is that it was another one of his blackmail victims,” she said instead. “Maybe the person just snatched the first opportunity.” Except where did Maddie’s death fit into all that? “Or if Massri was part of a blackmail ring…”

She was thinking aloud now. “Suppose he was sincere about marrying Mother?”

“I can’t see why he wouldn’t be,” Mr. Meagher said gruffly.

“Perhaps someone wanted to punish him for trying to leave the blackmail operation.”

“A ring, is it? Couldn’t Massri have been working on his own?”

“We don’t think so. It seems to be larger scale than that.”

“It’s a wee bit of a severe punishment,” Mr. Meagher pointed out. “And it wouldn’t change the fact that this person or persons would be left shorthanded.”

She thought of the sculptor named Cory who Peggy Graham had been involved with.

“Maybe the killer knew there were plenty more Dakarai Massris where he came from,” she said.

A.J. was reading through her aunt’s manuscript and trying to decide whether she should bother cooking something for dinner or if that evening might be the special night for which she was saving that tub of Oreo ice cream, when a voice echoed from down the hallway.

“Oi!”

A.J. peeled herself off the ceiling. “Mother, what are you doing skulking around here?”

“Skulking? I am not skulking. I come bearing gifts.” Elysia held up a bag of KFC.

A.J. moaned. “I’m not supposed to eat stuff like that.”

“I don’t know why not. You spend your day working out. If anyone deserves to eat like this it’s you.”

Elysia led the way into the kitchen. A.J.-and Monster-followed hopefully.

Before long chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and biscuits and honey had been dished up, mouth-watering aroma filling the air.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this, but why are you here?” A.J. asked, biting into a honey-slathered biscuit.

“I thought it was time to reflect and review.” Elysia shoved a purple legal pad, curling pages covered in scribbles, across the table. “I’ve made a few notes.”

“A few notes? It looks like you’re planning on writing your memoirs.”

“It’s interesting you mention that. I’ve had two offers this week for my life story.”

“Please tell me you’re not…”

“I hardly have the time,” Elysia said. “Perhaps if I wind up nicked, I’ll reconsider.”

A.J. picked up the legal pad, glancing through it. “Unfortunately we have a distinct shortage of suspects.”

“I like Dora for it,” Elysia said promptly. “She has a vengeful nature and makes no bones about wanting poor Dicky punished. She stalked him. Some of those phone messages she left were more than a little scary. She’s not afraid to take risks and they may have been partnered in illegal activities with antiquities.”

“She has an alibi.”

“I don’t believe in that alibi. Alibis can be broken, as we both know.”

“No one seems to think this one is breakable. Also I think we can scratch the theory of the homicidal bookie. Mr. Meagher says that’s a dead end.”

“Did you speak to Bradley today?” Elysia’s attention seemed focused on eating corn on the cob without dropping a single kernel.

“I did. I had a lunch meeting with Mara Allen and I stopped by his office.”

Elysia said nothing.

“So,” A.J. continued into that silence, “He says that line of inquiry can safely be closed. Dicky did gamble but he paid his debts promptly and he didn’t win more than he lost. A good customer, in other words, and they’re apparently sorry to lose him.”

Elysia seemed to be brooding.

“Which leads us to the next theory. Angry ex-lovers. Yours and Dicky’s.”

“Mine?” Elysia did look startled at that.

“Yes.”

“I don’t have any angry ex-lovers.” Elysia’s expression altered. “You can’t be serious.”

“According to what Maddie said, Mr. Meagher has had a thing about dating you back to about one million years BC.”

“Thank you for reminding me, pumpkin. I’d nearly forgotten those happy days when he used to take me out for pterodactyl rides.”

“Come on, Mother. Even I’ve noticed Mr. Meagher is crazy about you.”

“He’d have to be crazy indeed to shoot someone as foolish and as harmless as poor Dicky. Bradley had no idea I was seeing Dicky, and if he had known it, he’d have quickly seen how utterly unimportant that relationship was.” Elysia’s cheeks were pink and her tone sharp. Apparently, unexpectedly, this line of inquiry was hitting a little too close to home.

“Mr. Meagher knew what time we were having Easter dinner.”

“Of course he did. So did you.”

A.J. said reluctantly, “Did he know you were leaving the house to go buy milk?”

“Of course n-” Elysia’s face froze.

Seeing her startled expression, A.J.’s heart sank. “Did he know?”

Elysia whispered, “He called to verify at what time we were eating just as I was leaving for the shop. I told him I was running out to buy a tin of milk.”

A.J. wasn’t sure what to say.

Elysia straightened. “This is bloody ludicrous,” she snapped. “Bradley Meagher is no more a murderer than I am. The case against him is utterly and ridiculously circumstantial. I refuse to discuss this line of reasoning any further.” Her eyes were very bright.

“Okay,” A.J. said mildly. She turned the page of the legal pad.

“Bradley is not a murderer.”

“Got it.” A.J. glanced over the scrawled notes on the next page. “That leaves Dicky’s vengeful ex-lovers.”