Donna Andrews - Chesapeake Crimes - This Job Is Murder!

When the pounding stopped, I opened my eyes. Blinked. The room spun. I shut my eyes and waited for someone to come help me up, fearing it could take a while. Between the music upstairs and the yelling from the kitchen, I doubted anyone had heard me fall.

Hey. Wait a minute. Who pushed me?

Not Lauren. I would have seen her coming. Couldn’t have been Marjorie. I could clearly hear her in the kitchen. And there was Anne, yelling back, also in the kitchen. And Kay’s complaints were wafting down the hallway, too.

What the heck?

The floor creaked, and I felt a shadow fall over me. “God, forgive my terrible temper again,” Saul said. “But he was trying to hurt my girls, to blame them for what happened.”

Saul?

I opened my eyes. His flew wide.

“You’re alive?” he said.

“ You pushed me?” I said, eyeing his wheelchair. “And Bruce? But how?”

He suddenly appeared very old and scared. “The elevator.” He nodded toward one of the closed doors in the hall. “Bruce had it installed for me when I moved in.”

An elevator in a house? I guess I wasn’t as up on the modern world as I’d thought.

“I don’t understand,” I said, trying to get up but slumping back down. Oy , my head hurt. “He let you move into his home. Gave you his office. Enabled you to get around the whole house, apparently. Why would you do this to him, Saul?”

He paused. For a moment he seemed far away, lost in thought. Then he held out his left forearm and pushed up the sleeve. Tattooed numbers. I sighed deeply.

“I was a teenager when we were sent to the camps,” he said. “Auschwitz. I never saw my mother and sisters again.” He shivered and shook his head, as if he could make the memories disappear. “I was the only member of my family to survive. When the war ended, I promised myself I’d create a new family and I’d protect them from everything.”

“But Bruce loved you and the girls. Didn’t he? How was he a threat?”

Saul gazed toward the kitchen, where the argument had moved on to the flavor of the wedding cake. “Marjorie and the girls raise their voices, but not Bruce. Never Bruce. Until the economy turned, and he lost a lot of money in the market.” Saul wrung his hands. “He wanted Marjorie and the girls to sacrifice. A small wedding. A state school. That I could understand, but he had no right to yell at my Marjorie.”

He paused. I stared quietly at him, hoping my silence would encourage him to continue. Finally, he did.

“The day Bruce died,” Saul said, “he and Marjorie had another argument about money, much louder than the one going on right now. He called her extravagant, said she was spoiling the girls. Marjorie called him a tightwad and insisted on her way, but Bruce said that for once he was going to get his way. Marjorie’s waterworks wouldn’t work. Marjorie stormed out, and Bruce headed up the stairs here. I was at the top, where I’d been listening. I couldn’t help myself. I was so angry. My Marjorie deserved to be treated like a queen! You don’t scream at queens.” Tears spilled from his eyes. “No one suspected a thing. Just like they won’t with you.”

He grabbed the ceramic fruit bowl and raised it over my head.

“Daddy, no!” Marjorie ran toward us. “Not again!”

Saul’s arms quivered as he lowered the bowl. I let out a deep breath. I’d died once before. Believe me, once had been enough.

Marjorie grabbed the bowl from Saul’s outstretched hands and clutched it to her chest.

“You know?” he asked her.

A tear ran down her cheek. “I thought you did it for the money, Daddy. So Anne could have her wedding and Kayla could go to a good school. I didn’t know you killed Bruce because of me. You shouldn’t have. I loved him. He was a good man.”

Saul leaned back in the chair, his face ashen. “It was the yelling, Marjorie. I couldn’t stand that he yelled at you.”

“I’m a grown woman, Daddy. I could have handled it.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

While they were talking, I’d struggled to my feet. My head hurt, but I’d felt worse. Marjorie seemed to notice me at that moment.

“Oh, Mr. Bookman. Please don’t turn my father in. He did a terrible thing, but his heart was in the right place. He’s suffered so much already, and we need him here with us.”

I looked at her and then at Saul for a good while, and I understood why God had sent me.

“You should go to your rabbi, both of you. Confess what happened. He’ll help you find your way.”

Marjorie’s eyes widened, afraid, but Saul nodded.

“You’re right, Bookman. I’ll go. We’ll both go.” He held out his hand, and I shook it. “It’ll be good getting it all off my chest. Maybe we can find a way to let Lauren know that she wasn’t to blame because of her cat. And I’m sorry about…this.” He gestured at the bowl and had the decency to look sheepish.

I nodded and turned back to Marjorie. “I have to ask. You said you weren’t home at the time. How did you know what happened?”

“Yeah,” Saul said. “How?”

She set the bowl on the table. “I was only gone a couple minutes, Daddy. Remember? Got as far as the corner, then turned around. I came in, saw Bruce, and screamed. You called from upstairs that you were on the phone with 911. You said Bruce had tripped over Squeaker halfway up the stairs. Fell all the way down.”

“So?” Saul asked.

“I knew Bruce couldn’t have tripped over Squeaker. Bruce would have known if Squeaker were anywhere near him. He started sneezing whenever the cat came within five feet.” She sniffed hard and reached out, plucking a large crumb from Saul’s beard. “And then I saw some pretzel crumbs on Bruce. You’re the only one of us who eats pretzels, Daddy. You eat them constantly, as if you’re afraid we’ll run out of food. I knew Bruce must have made it to the top of the stairs, and you must have touched him. It’s the only way crumbs from your beard would have fallen onto him. So I knew you lied about how he fell.”

Saul turned my way, looking surprised yet also proud. “That’s my girl,” he said. “A regular Columbo.”

I said my goodbyes, left the brownstone, and by the time I reached the sidewalk, poof ! I was home again. My hair was long, and I had on my favorite robe and sandals.

The swirling cloud appeared before me. “A job well done, Job.”

“So it was Saul, huh?” I said. “I didn’t suspect him for a minute. I knew all about elevators, but I didn’t know they put them in houses. That’s what I get for taking classes from Moses. Sure, he knows his Torah , but he also got lost in the desert for forty years. I never should’ve expected he’d get all the details on the modern world right.”

God chuckled.

“I hope I handled things the way you wanted,” I said.

“Yes. You got Saul to confess his sin and Marjorie to admit she knew about it. Good work.”

“Too bad I nearly had to die to do it,” I said.

“Well,” God said, “it’s not like you haven’t died before.”

Easy for you to say.

“If there’s nothing else,” I said, “I think there’s a pinochle game going on.”

The mist began swirling more.

“I’ll speak to you again soon, Job.” If a cloud could wink, I’d swear this one did. “Hopefully things won’t be so dangerous the next time.”

Next time?!

Barb Goffman has been nominated four times for the Agatha Award for her short stories. In addition to writing short fiction, Barb has completed her first novel, Call Girl . She is program chair of the Malice Domestic mystery convention, is secretary of the Mid-Atlantic chapter of Mystery Writers of America, is a past president of the Chesapeake Chapter of Sisters in Crime, and has served as a coordinating editor of two Chesapeake Crimes anthologies, including this one. She lives in Virginia with her miracle dog, Scout, a three-time cancer survivor. Learn more at http://www.barbgoffman.com.