Mahjonged (An Alex Harris Mystery) Read online

  I shook my head. “He’s seven for goodness sake.”

  “Yeah, and have you seen what seven-year-olds are getting up to these days?” Sam shuffled some papers on her desk. “We got two new clients this morning?”

  “We did?” I asked my mood instantly brighter.

  “A law firm needs a paralegal, temp to hire, and an insurance agency needs an administrative assistant for four months while theirs is out on a medical leave.”

  Just then Millie came in to tell Sam her appointment had arrived. I checked my emails, did a couple of things and then told Millie I was going to get something to eat. The truth was I wanted to go over to Penelope’s. I hadn’t touched base with Els since Friday and maybe she had found more pictures.

  Finding no one home at Penelope’s I drove to the center of Indian Cove and ordered a sandwich from Krueger’s Market. The market had set up an area in the corner with a few café tables and chairs and I took a seat while I waited for my order. So far no one in Krueger’s had given me a second look. I guess the rumor mill hadn’t made it this far yet.

  My order ready, I asked for an iced tea and took my seat again at the tiny table. I savored my tuna salad on a croissant for a couple of bites when something caught my eye out the window. Meme and Theresa inched their way down the street, going from doorway to doorway and headed in my direction. I put my sandwich down so I could lean right up against the window for a better look.

  What the heck were these two up to now? My grandparents never stopped amazing me. I could always count on Meme to stir up some sort of adventure, usually involving someone from her senior community. My grandfather, my father’s father, who lived in a rest home, always seemed to find trouble as well. After a year of pursuing Lucy McDermott, they now lived in sin, flitting back and forth from each other’s rooms after hours.

  No wonder I found myself the butt of the town’s rumor mill. What with my grandparents’ penchant for getting into mischief it was only a matter of time before it trickled down to me.

  Meme and Theresa were two doors down. I leaned further, my nose right against the glass, and saw a woman step out of a shop on the other side of the street. She stood there looking up and down Main Street, hands on hips. She finally turned and walked in the opposite direction while Meme and Theresa moved one doorway closer to me. When they were sure no one was looking they came out of hiding and walked passed my window.

  I knocked on the glass scaring the daylights out of the two of them. Then Meme smiled up at me and they came into the store.

  “Did she see us?” Meme asked me, somewhat out of breath.

  “Who? The lady who came out of the shop across the street? I don’t think so,” I shook my head. “Was that Harriett? And isn’t that a lingerie store?”

  “That was close,” Theresa said. She pulled out the chair across from me for Meme and took another from the table next to mine and sat down.

  Meme rolled her eyes. “She’s picking out something to take on her weekend getaway. She decided to go on the houseboat with the guy I told you about. He’s in his sixties and Harriett is seventy-eight. They haven’t met yet. She’s hoping if she wears something sexy, he won’t notice how old she is.”

  “Unless she plans on having it on when he picks her up, I think he’s going to figure it out.” I tried not to laugh. “And besides, if she’s looking to cover up her age, a skimpy see-through piece of clothing isn’t her best bet.”

  “That’s what we tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. She wanted us to go shopping with her but I didn’t want to spend my day looking at an old lady with wrinkles through some gauzy material. What are you eating, honey? It looks real good.”

  Ten minutes later I placed a liverwurst sandwich on a crusty roll in front of Meme and a ham and cheese on rye in front of Theresa.

  “Meme,” I said as I took one of her chubby hands in mine, “promise me you’ll never make me watch you try on lingerie.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, honey. I went in there last week and the sales lady said they just sold the last of this hot little red number in my size and they were pretty sure it was discontinued.”

  “That’s true,” Theresa nodded her agreement.

  I took the last bite of my sandwich and looked out the window thanking my lucky stars for discreet sales ladies.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  After I walked Meme and Theresa to Theresa’s car, I drove over to Penelope’s, this time finding Els at home. I also found a for sale sign in the front yard.

  “So you’re going to sell after all?” I asked after she brought in a pot of tea. I looked around for any sight of Wilhelm and his candy, but Els said he just left to do some clothes shopping for stuff to take home to Holland.

  “Nice clothing is just so expensive back home,” she explained as she poured our tea. She leaned back and looked out the large bay window to the front yard. “Yes, we are selling. Neither one of us is ready to move to America and it would be difficult to keep this place up being so far away.”

  “You could always hire a management company and they could rent it out for you,” I suggested.

  “Hmmm. Perhaps. If we can’t sell it for a good price that may be an option.”

  I looked around the room. Most of the furniture was gone along with all the knick knacks that had been placed on shelves and tables. Els looked tired and I felt certain all the packing had taken its toll.

  “I’m ready to go home, Alex. I really haven’t had any time at all to even think about Pen. She’s gone and Poppy. I just can’t believe it.” She looked like she was about to burst into tears and then she looked at me and smiled. “At least the kitchen is done. Except for the painting. Do you want to see?”

  I followed her into the kitchen. The concrete counters had been finished and looked beautiful, new appliances had been placed, and I had to admit it looked good. A painter was coming in tomorrow to finish one of the walls and then it would be done.

  “Bert did a good job and I told him we wouldn’t pursue Penelope’s complaint against him. I’ve been too busy to even think about it and I just want to be done with it all.” Els leaned against the counter and gave a wistful look around. We went back to the living room and I poured myself more tea.

  “Els, did you happen to find any more pictures of the man?” I hated asking but she didn’t seem to mind.

  “No. Nothing more. Just pictures of Penelope and Poppy. They did seem to be very happy in them and I’m sure the other man was just some fling Penelope had before she met my father.”

  “And what about your mother? Did you ever find out where she’s been?”

  Els laughed. “At a spa in Belgium with a friend. A week of getting pampered. All our worry for nothing. Alex, not to change the subject, but I wanted to pay you for your help the other day, with the packing.

  I waved my hand thinking Sam would have a fit, but I hadn’t done very much. “No, please. It was nothing. I hardly did a thing. I was glad to help out.”

  “Well, thank you. And you have been a help. I really haven’t had anyone to talk to.”

  I said goodbye to Els and told her to stop by the agency before she left. I also promised to keep her informed as to the investigation, both the official one and my own.

  I sat in my car for a few minutes trying to think of something to do. I’d talked with everyone and was out of ideas. And any hope of Els’ mother rushing across the Atlantic to kill Penelope now seemed dashed. I just hoped the police were doing a better job than I had been.

  I needed to get a few things from my house and I hated going over there on my own, but I knew Sam had an afternoon appointment and I didn’t want to ask Millie and leave the agency unattended.

  I put the car in gear and ten minutes later stopped in front of my house. The sun felt warm as I got out and the neighborhood had been cleaned of all the fallen debris. Suddenly I wanted to get back to my own home.

  I walked up the path to the front door and let myself in. It did
n’t seem quite as cheery inside as out, but I saw a neighbor working in her yard a few houses down and felt certain she would come running if I let out a scream.

  I eyed the library door and decided the time had come to go in there. Maybe if I did I would get some sort of vibe that might help me find the killer.

  I went to the kitchen and took the spare key from the junk drawer and walked to the library. I still needed to find another name for this room and the murder room was not going to cut it. Maybe it would just be another den, or an office, but we already had those rooms.

  I pulled back two pieces of crime scene tape and turned the key and flicked on the light switch. Surprisingly, everything seemed to be just like the night of my party. The tables and the mahjong tiles were still in place as if everyone had just stepped out for a break. Which is actually exactly what happened. Except someone had come back in and used my cake knife to kill Penelope.

  I walked around the game tables looking at all the tiles. And then I came to Penelope’s place. Blood spotted the rug but not very much. I stepped around the spots and took a look at her tiles. Then I took a look at the tiles the three other players collected. They all seemed to be working on a hand called Daft. It was a rather simple hand and everyone had most of the tiles they needed with the exception of the character suit. I walked back to Penelope’s place and took a better look at her tiles. She had collected all the characters, lined up in a neat row with one of each wind. Two tiles had fallen off the rack and I turned them over and placed them next to the others. The hand looked familiar but I couldn’t remember the name. On Friday night I worked on simple hands myself, but I vaguely remembered trying this hand when I practiced before the party.

  And then I remembered it and a chill crept up my back.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  I quickly went to the table where I played. I found my play book and some sheets I had printed off the Internet with some special hands. I flipped through the sheets until I came to the one I needed and sure enough, there was the hand. Snake in the Grass. That was the name of the hand. Snake in the Grass.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I said. Snake in the Grass. But wait. So what? So Penelope played a hand called Snake in the Grass. Big deal. But something wasn’t right.

  I picked up my play book and looked through it again, hand by hand. I couldn’t find Snake in the Grass. It wasn’t in my book. Granted I had old play books and maybe it was added in to the newer version, but we all played with the same book. So how did Penelope know about the Snake in the Grass hand?

  Of course, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just played a hand of her own creation, but then how did she expect to win if it wasn’t in the book to verify? Or maybe she just got it mixed up with another hand or wasn’t quite finished yet and was waiting for something different. There were several hands close to Snake in the Grass.

  I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense and I didn’t like the name of the hand. I walked to my kitchen and took the phone out of its cradle and called my mother. “Mom, remember the night Penelope died?” I began.

  “Alex, are you trying to be funny because I will never forget that night.”

  “Sorry. Do you remember what hand you played right before we called a break?”

  “Why, dear? Is it important? I’m right in the middle of making Henry some crepes with melted chocolate.”

  Crepes? Did my mother say crepes? Since when did she start making crepes? And if I hurried could I make it back to my parents’ house before they were all gone?

  “You played at Penelope’s table right?” I asked.

  “Yes, correct. With Liz and Jean. Henry, take the cat off the table.”

  Cat?

  “Mom, did you say cat?”

  “The neighbor’s cat. Henry let it in and now he’s putting a cast on its leg using gauze and Scotch Tape. So what did you need to know, Alex?”

  “What hand did you play?”

  “The easy one. I can’t remember the name, but I think we all played the same thing because I could never get the character I needed.”

  “And Penelope? She played it too?”

  “I’m not sure, dear, but I think so. The entire time we played together she tried to get that hand. I tried a few harder ones, but I always went back to Daft. That’s it. Daft. It was called Daft. Henry, use a different fork to feed the cat.”

  What? They were giving the cat crepes? Geesh. There would never be any left for me now. I hung up the phone and sat at my kitchen table thinking. I went out to the living room and opened up my purse where I had written down addresses for Liz and Jean. I had also written down their phone numbers and I first called Liz.

  She said she played Daft at the end though she had tried to get a Christmas hand first because she loved the way it looked.

  Next I called Jean. She said she started out playing a date hand, but couldn’t get the winds she needed so she switched to Daft. She said most of the night she either played Daft or Cornucopia.

  I put the phone back in the kitchen and returned to the library. So everyone played Daft but somehow Snake in the Grass ended up on Penelope’s rack. Was there a connection to her murder? There had to be.

  Or maybe someone put it there after they killed her. Except it was dark so how would they be able to see the tiles? Of course they could have had some little flashlight with them or they could have snuck into the library with a candle while we all sat in the living room after Penelope’s body was discovered.

  And why were the tiles still in my library? Why hadn’t the police taken them all?

  I sat there at my place and looked at my tiles not able to come up with anything concrete when I heard something. Had I remembered to lock the front door when I came in? I didn’t think so. Damn. I could hear footsteps out in the living room. I quietly took the tiles off my rack and picked it up, then walked to the door and stood behind it. There were still a couple of pieces of tape across the doorway and if the person on the other side tried to duck in like I had, I might be able to get a good whack on their head before they struck.

  I lifted the rack above my head, ready to take aim when I heard a voice.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  “Alex, are you in here?” Detective Maroni asked from the other side of the door.

  “Oh, thank God,” I said somewhat out of breath. “I heard someone coming and I don’t mind telling you it scared me to death.” I put the rack down and ducked under the tape.

  “I had another call in this area when I saw your car. I have your house key and the key to this door so I thought I’d return them. What are you doing here?”

  “I needed to get a few things and I guess curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to take a look inside.” I turned to look at the library. “Am I in trouble?”

  “No. That’s why I’m here, to give you your keys,” Detective Maroni said as he dropped them in my hand.

  “Does this mean you caught the killer?” I asked hopefully.

  “No. It just means we’re done with your house.”

  “Oh.”

  Detective Maroni ran his hand through his hair. “Alex, I’m stumped. I wish John was here. How about you? Anything?”

  I felt touched he consulted me, but what could I say? I could tell him about the tiles I found on the racks, but why? They didn’t mean anything as far as I could tell. It was just a weird coincidence Penelope happened to be playing a hand called Snake in the Grass. I could tell him my theory about Penelope being Mia’s long lost mother but that hadn’t panned out the way I’d thought. I could tell him my other theory about the long lost boyfriend coming back and killing Penelope but then how did he get into my house and why would he come back after twenty-five years or more? And then there was the theory Els and Wilhelm’s mother may have come and killed Penelope but the woman had been away at a spa. At least that’s what she told her daughter and I had to believe it because again, how would she have gotten into the house and out again without anyone seeing her? Even if she
managed to climb the tree, she would have run into Bert and he seemed to be alone.

  I shook my head. “No. I’ve got nothing. But I do have a question for you. Why are the tiles still in place? I thought the police would gather them up.”

  “We dusted the ones on the table where Mrs. Radamaker played but all the prints were smudged. Too many people touching them.”

  “Yes, at some point in the evening I would imagine everyone touched every tile.”

  Another dead end.

  “It’s getting dark. Why don’t we get out of here, unless you planned on staying?”

  I smiled at the detective. “No, I won’t be coming back until John returns.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  My parents went to Dorothy’s house for an evening of cards so there was no need for me to rush home for dinner. Meme went to Bingo and so I headed over to my sister’s house. Michael had to work late and Sam and I made a bunch of homemade tacos and sat at the kitchen table with the kids.

  Homemade tacos with soft shells happened to be one of Kendall’s favorites and she ate her third one with gusto while juice dripped down her chin. Henry tried his hardest to keep up but I had a feeling my mother filled him with too many crepes.

  “Mom, can we get a cat?” Henry asked.

  My sister rolled her eyes at me. Neither of us liked cats. Actually, she didn’t like them and I was afraid of them. Don’t ask me why.

  “No, we’re not getting a cat. No pets. Not until you guys are old enough to take care of it yourselves.”

  “Oh, Mom, I like cats. And I could feed it creeps.

  “Creeps?” Sam asked looking at her son.

  “I think he means crepes. Mom made him some this afternoon.”

  “Ah, ha. So that’s why you’re not hungry,” Sam said eyeing Henry. “And since when does Mom make crepes?” This last bit she directed at me.