Reading Online Novel

Lie of the Needle(45)



            “Do you think I’m crazy?”

            There was a short silence.

            “Well, sometimes you can take things a bit too far.”

            While I was staring at Eleanor, openmouthed, Serrano strode into the store. I snatched another mug from the shelf, splashed coffee into it, and thrust it at him.

            “How’re you doing, ladies?” he said, looking carefully at each of us.

            “Daisy wants to dig up a body,” Eleanor said.

            “This again?” He accepted the mug, nodding his thanks as he wiped the drips from the rim. “Daisy, the death certificate states Stanley Bornstein died of pneumonia. Anyway, the testing would have had to be done within forty-eight hours. It’s too late now. Let it go . . .” His voice trailed off. “So. No treats today?”

            “Mais non,” Eleanor muttered. “Tant pis.”

            I didn’t think Eleanor was actually fluent in French. She tossed in a few phrases here and there to impress her bridal clients, but the little she did know was fairly pithy.

            “Come again?”

            “She said, ‘It’s too bad,’ but don’t worry about that right now,” I said. “Look, did you know that Ruth Bornstein had a prenuptial agreement? If she divorced Stanley, she got nothing. But if he died, it was a different story. Remember how I told you about that guy I saw her with in town?”

            I must have had a stubborn look on my face, because Serrano apparently felt compelled to give me a brief lecture.

            “Do you know how they catch monkeys in Borneo, Daisy? They make a small hole in a coconut, hollow it out, put a green banana inside, and chain the coconut to a tree. The monkey puts his hand in to get the banana. While he’s clutching the fruit, he can’t pull his hand back through the hole, so he’s stuck. All he has to do to free himself is open his hand, but he can’t bear to let go. He rants and raves until he’s exhausted, and then he’s captured.”

            Great, so now I’m a stupid monkey.

            Serrano smiled gently at me. “How about you concentrate your crime-solving skills on the actual murder that just took place?”

            I narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot, but I’d play his little game for now. “Okay, Detective, maybe the culprit was a jealous spouse from the way the photographer carried on. From what I’m hearing, it sounds like he was down at the pub with a different woman every night.”

            Eleanor nodded. “Sounds like he’s boinked just about every woman in this village under the age of forty.”

            “But why go to the extreme of killing him?” I mused. “Why not just beat him up? A jealous husband wouldn’t trash all the stuff in the studio either.”

            “Maybe he would,” Eleanor said. “Depends what’s on the film.”

            Serrano nodded. “Good point, E.”

            “Plus, he didn’t just go to the pub.” She took a long swig of her black coffee. “I heard he stopped in at the Raven Lounge a time or two.”

            I sucked in a breath. The motorcycle gangs that hung around that biker bar would not appreciate the way Roos strutted around like a bleached-haired peacock, mouthing off his West Coast expressions and liberal ideas. “Yes, someone might have taken exception to a guy like him coming into their place.”

            “A guy like him?” Serrano leaned forward, intent on me.

            I shook my head. It was true that Alex Roos was almost androgynous, but I didn’t think he was gay.