Three Bedrooms, One Corpse - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,10
silence.
“Oh,” she said slowly. “Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, I have to call Detective Liggett right away. The vases are missing.”
“She should check the formal dining room, too. There was a crystal bowl with crystal fruit in there that cost a fortune.”
“I’ll call her right away.”
We hung up at the same moment.
It had been years since I was at the Anderton house, but I still remembered how impressed I’d been that instead of tissues or bed lamps, Mandy’s parents had Chinese vases on their bedside tables. In her charming way, Mandy had bragged about how much those vases had cost. But she had never liked them. So when I realized they were gone, I didn’t for an instant think she’d had them packed up and shipped to Los Angeles. She would have left them to coax a buyer. Anyone who would have enough money to consider buying her parents’ house would not want to steal vases, right?
I dumped an indignant Madeleine from my lap and moved around the room restlessly. I was standing at the window staring out at my patio, thinking I’d have to bring in my outdoor chairs and table and store them down in the basement during the coming weekend, when the phone rang. I reached out to the kitchen wall extension.
“It’s me again,” said my mother. “We’re having a meeting this afternoon for everyone on the staff, two o’clock. You’re going to need to come, too.”
“Did the police question Mackie?”
“They took him to the police station.”
“Oh, no.”
“It turns out Detective Liggett—I mean Detective Smith— was already here when I was on the phone with you. I’m sure this all happened as a result of what I told Jack Burns, about Mackie taking Tonia Lee the key. I was only thinking of Mackie having possibly seen who was at the house with Tonia Lee. It didn’t occur to me until too late that they might pick up Mackie as a suspect.”
“Do you think it’s because he’s—?”
“Oh, I’d hate to think that. I hope our police force is not like that. But you know, being black may work in his favor, actually. Tonia Lee would never have gone to bed with Mackie. She didn’t like blacks at all.”
“They might just say he raped her.”
There was a long pause while Mother digested this. “You know, somehow it didn’t.. . well, I can’t say why. And I only looked for a second. But it didn’t look like a rape, did it?”
I paused in turn. Tonia completely undressed, the sheets pulled back as if two people had actually gotten in the bed together . .. Mother was right, it looked like a seduction scene, not a hasty rape, even though the leather thongs might indicate force. My first thought had been consensual kinky sex. But maybe Mother and I were both factoring in Tonia Lee’s known reputation for infidelity. When I suggested this to Mother, she agreed.
“Anyway, I’m sure Mackie is not involved,” she said staunchly. “I like him a lot, he’s a hard worker, and for the year he’s been here, he’s been totally honest and aboveboard. Besides... he is too smart to put the key back.”
After we’d hung up, I wondered about that. Why had the Anderton house key been put back on the hook so mysteriously? That key had enabled us to enter and find the body.
I thought a number of interesting questions depended on the answer to that riddle.
The office meeting ought to be stimulating.
I ate an apple and a left-over chicken breast while flipping through Jane Engle’s copy of The Murderers’ Who’s Who. I read the entries for some of my favorite cases and wondered if an updated edition would include our local murderous duo whose dreadful but brief career had made national headlines; or perhaps our only other claim to fame might rate an entry, the disappearance of an entire family from a house outside of Lawrenceton. That had been—what?—five or six years ago.
My familiarity with old murder cases was my mother’s despair. Now, since the disbandment of the Real Murders club, I had no one to share it with. I sighed over spilt milk.
After putting my dishes in the dishwasher, I glumly mounted the stairs to get ready for the meeting. For one thing, I had to brush all the cat hairs off my skirt.
* * *
Mother’s office building, with its soothing gray and blue carpeting and walls, peaceful prints, and comfortable chairs, exuded calm and profitable efficiency. That was Mother’s essence,