Death by Dragonfly Read online

  “Okay, it’s rough, but you can handle it.”

  He tried to set the glass on the table and almost missed. I caught the glass and set it down.

  “Sorry, Randall.”

  I knew he wasn’t apologizing for slopping tea on the rug. “No big deal.”

  “You told Slim and Jim, didn’t you?”

  “I might have mentioned if they were in the neighborhood they could stop by. Transfer some of that glare to Kit. He’s the one who talked to them.”

  “It was really cool,” Kit said. “Why didn’t you tell me they were here? I would’ve liked to see them again. Maybe I could’ve convinced them to join the band for a couple of nights, maybe even do a dance or something. The crowd would go ballistic.” Camden’s narrow-eyed glance shut him up. “Or not.”

  Camden shook his head. “If I hadn’t been so zoned out, maybe I could’ve prevented all of this murder and attempted murder and theft—”

  Kit interrupted. “Man, this is just what we’ve been talking about. It’s like my drummer’s sister. Sometimes you see things you can’t keep from happening. But you need to be able to see things.”

  “Kit’s right,” I said. “We’re up against a curse, remember?”

  “That’s what started this whole thing. When I shook Leo’s hand—” He shuddered. “I couldn’t take it.”

  Kary hadn’t been able to reach Ellin. “She must be in a meeting. I left a message.”

  “Did you see Pierson committing any of these crimes?” I asked Camden.

  “No, Leo couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Did you see anybody?”

  Another shudder. “The dragonfly’s six deaths.” He slowly recited six names. “Frederick, Alston, Bernice, Ira, Joshua, Isabelle. . .” his voice trailed off. “Isabelle. She tried to reach me, and I couldn’t hear her.” He put his head in his hands. “I couldn’t help her.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll take care of it. Did you see the dragonfly?”

  He straightened and wiped his eyes. “Yes, it’s surrounded by other artwork.”

  I handed him the tea glass. “Drink some more.” He had a few more spasms left in him, but the worst seemed to be over. “You have any idea where it is? Let’s find the damned thing and put it out of its misery.”

  What little color he had left in his face drained away. “I can’t. Not yet. Kit?”

  “I can’t see it. It must have something to do with you guys.”

  “Maybe once the dragonfly is back with Leo, it’ll settle down.” I sat down in the blue armchair. “Anyway, without the benefit of psychic powers, I found Pierson’s leafy little silverware. The box was sitting in plain view on a bookshelf in Baseford’s office. Baseford swore he was the victim of a setup. We may never know now.”

  “Any suspects?” Camden asked.

  “The entire staff of the Herald.”

  “If Baseford didn’t steal the spoons, how did they get into his office? If someone planted them to make him look like the thief, why would he try to kill himself?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Kit looked interested. “Okay, what’s the deal here? Is Baseford the bad guy?”

  “He’s a bad guy, but he’s not the bad guy. I’ve got two suspects. Nancy Piper, who works at the museum in the finance department, and Richard Mason, director of the Little Gallery and a frustrated artist. Both of them knew about Pierson’s artwork and had been to his house to see it. Both of them have some expertise with electronics and are familiar with Guardian Electric, so either of them could’ve tinkered with Pierson’s alarm system, allowing Samuel Gallant to break in and steal some of Pierson’s collection, including the deadly dragonfly.”

  “So how does Baseford fit in?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe to throw us off the trail? Everyone hates him, so he’s an easy target.”

  “We still don’t know who killed Gallant and Stein,” Kary said. “I can’t see Nancy Piper blowing up Stein’s boat or murdering Gallant and hauling his body into a closet. I can’t see her running over to the Herald to kill Baseford and running back to the museum without anyone seeing her.”

  “She could’ve sent someone,” I said. “More and more I’m thinking that someone is Richard Mason and his Magic Remote.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “She Never Told Her Love”

  Since Kit had to get back to bed, Kary said she’d stay with Camden until Ellin arrived. I headed for the hospital and asked to see Chance Baseford. He was as superior and pompous as ever, bossing the nurse around and demanding more pillows. The nurse left, rolling her eyes. When Baseford saw me, he pointed a finger and ordered me out.

  “This is all your fault! If you and Pierson hadn’t had the utter gall to suggest that I would steal his ridiculous silverware.”

  I stepped in and closed the door behind me. “I haven’t come about that. I want to know who tried to kill you.”

  For once in his life, he was speechless, if only for a few seconds. “Kill me?”

  “Didn’t the police tell you? The whole thing was set up to look like suicide: pills, vodka, a note.”

  He gaped at me. “But that’s utterly preposterous! I’d never kill myself.”

  “I didn’t think so.” I pulled up a chair and sat. “Level with me. Did you take those spoons?”

  “I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

  I guess we won’t count all those artists and poets and dancers who never realized their dreams because of a few unkind words from your bloody pen. “All right. Let’s say I believe you. Now, who wants you dead besides half the city?”

  He smirked. “Only half? You insult me.”

  “Who was in your office yesterday? What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I have an excellent memory.”

  “So prove it.”

  He leaned back against the pillows and gazed at the ceiling. “My assistant, of course, being his usual useless self. Reporters checking in with news for me. Some hysterical woman, claiming I’d ruined her life. I believe I told her she flattered herself to think I’d bother with such a second-rate talent.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  He frowned at the ceiling as if he disagreed with the arrangement of the tiles. “I was at my computer, typing my column. Someone came to the door, but I was busy. I didn’t look up to see who it was. I assumed it was my assistant. When no one said anything, I assumed—no, wait.” His brow furrowed. “I believe he had a cigarette.”

  “You smelled cigarette smoke?”

  “No, I caught a glimpse of something that looked like a lighter, which, if this person planned to smoke, is completely against the rules. The Herald offices are smoke-free.” He rubbed his eyes. “There was a loud buzzing sound and things got very fuzzy after that. Someone was in my doorway, and then, I don’t remember a thing until I woke up here.”

  “You can’t remember who that person was? Male or female? Short? Tall? Dark hair?”

  He looked baffled. “You know, I can’t recall a single detail. This is highly unusual. I have an excellent memory.”

  “Maybe it’ll come back to you. You’ve had a bad shock. Oh, one other thing. Do you have a pacemaker?” I didn’t believe the old grinch had a heart much less a pacemaker, and it would have been an amazing coincidence if he had either one.

  “No, of course not. My heart is as sound as can be.”

  “Any metal anywhere?”

  He stared. “What on earth are you getting at?”

  “When you go through the metal detector at the airport, do you set off any alarms?”

  For a moment I didn’t think he was going to answer me. Then he lowered his voice. “If you tell a living soul about this, I will ruin you. I wear hearing aids.”

  “Lots of people do. Why does that ha
ve to be a secret?”

  He reared back. “Are you being purposefully dense? How do you think the artistic world would react if they knew Parkland’s premiere critic turns off his hearing aids whenever a performance is especially excruciating?”

  “Baseford, I don’t think they’d be surprised. Your secret is safe with me. What does it have to do with your fake suicide attempt?”

  “That loud buzzing sound. It made my hearing aids squeal like demons in torment.”

  “That’s why you passed out.”

  “Yes, the doctors agree that if the sound had gone on any longer, it could’ve done much worse damage to my brain.”

  Again, someone used a zap of electrical current to get rid of an enemy. I got up. “I’m going to look into this. If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

  “I will.” I must have looked surprised at his cooperation, because he added, “You’re the only one who’s bothered to come by.”

  I didn’t want him to think I was his pal. “I needed information.”

  “I thought at least one person would call.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Usually a close brush with death makes people a little mellow. Not this guy. “Well, then,” he said, “I certainly don’t need anyone’s support.”

  My daughter on The Other Side came in bright and clear that night, pleased I had helped Camden.

  That was smart to use the snakes, Daddy. I knew you’d think of something.

  “Now that everyone can hear everybody, does Isabelle have anything else she needs to tell me? How about Norma or Samuel Gallant?”

  Delores will find out. There are lots of people here, you know. Delores doesn’t come to the playground very often. Don’t worry. I won’t forget.

  There were so many things I wanted to ask Lindsey. Was she happy there? Did she see me all day, or just in these dreams? Did she communicate with her mother? How long was she going to be able to help me? I hated the thought of losing her again.

  Be grateful for what you have, I reminded myself. Don’t try to explain it or analyze it. Say “Thank you” and keep going.

  “Thank you, baby,” I said. “See you later.”

  I certainly hoped I would.

  Camden staggered down to breakfast Saturday morning with a warning for me. “Don’t think of anything.”

  “Stuff still pouring in?”

  “Like Niagara Falls.” His hand shook as he opened the box of Pop-Tarts.

  “Can’t you shut it off?”

  “I spent years learning how to control it. I take a couple of days off, and I’m back to the beginning.”

  “You can do it, though, right? Do I need to call Psychics Anonymous?”

  “Pass the sugar.”

  He sat down at the counter and stirred sugar into his tea. I brought my coffee and toast over and perched on another stool. “Speaking of sugar, did you get any from your sweetie last night?”

  “I was too addled to fully enjoy her company.”

  “‘Addled.’ Haven’t heard that one in a while. It’s short, but I’ll give you five points. Did she lecture you about drug abuse?”

  “She was really concerned. She also made it clear I needed to be at the fair today.”

  Good God, the woman never lets up. I must have been thinking a lot harder than I realized because Camden winced. So our link was back online. That was a good thing.

  “Did you tell her about the snakes?”

  “The fact they came down the chimney into the bedroom? No.”

  He decided he needed one more nap before facing the fair. I took my breakfast to the porch. It was hot, but maybe the heat would be able to bake some answers into my head. I’d settled in one of the rocking chairs to think over the facts of my case when the hedge rustled and Lily Wilkes came through. She wore a shapeless green sweater with huge rhinestone buttons, a long brown skirt with a pink ruffle on the bottom, three pearl necklaces, and a green Girl Scout beret.

  She held her skirt and came up the steps. “Hello, David. You’re looking very serious this morning.”

  “I’m trying to get inspired. There are things about this case I don’t think I want to know.”

  Lily sat down in the chair next to mine and looked at me intently, as only someone who has been repeatedly probed can look. I took a drink of coffee and tried out my theories on her.

  “I started out with a long list of people, and it looks like they’re being picked off one by one. If I wait, the only suspect left standing is going to be the murderer, but I don’t want anyone else to die, especially not over a glass dragonfly.”

  “A glass dragonfly? That sounds wonderful. According to the Chinese, the dragonfly is a symbol of longevity.”

  “Lily, Janice told me everything in China is a symbol of longevity. The pine tree, the bat, the doughnut. This dragonfly may be many things, but it’s no guarantee of long life.”

  “Get Cam to hold it for you.”

  “It’s already blown his head off.”

  She gave a little gasp. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “Sorry. He’s been having some headaches lately, and the pills he was taking are making things worse.”

  She stopped rocking. “Pills?”

  The way she said “pills” made me set my coffee cup down to give her my full attention. “Do you know anything about that?”

  I didn’t think she was going to answer, but finally she gulped. “Um, I may have given him some of mine.”

  “Are they called Tranquillon?”

  She cringed. “No. A few days ago when he came over, he had a headache, and I offered him some Rest-All. He said that worked really well, so I gave him some more. Did it make him sick? I never meant for that to happen.”

  I was surprised and relieved that little Lily was the supplier and not some crime boss I would have to take down. “It’s okay. He’s not going to take any more. But you really shouldn’t share medications, especially with Camden. He can flip out over cough syrup.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “You were only trying to help. I’ll explain things to him.”

  Her face lit up like…well, a UFO. “Will you, David?”

  “Yes, of course. You know he won’t be angry with you.”

  “That’s true. He never loses his temper. He doesn’t realize how much he helps people. The ASG would be lost without him. He’s always so kind, and he never makes fun of anyone, even though—and I hate to say this—we have a few odd people in our group.”

  A few. “What does he tell them?”

  “He listens mostly and everyone calms down.” Puffs of her cottony hair tried to escape the beret. “You see, nobody believes their stories. It’s frustrating not to be believed, and they’re laughed at, too. They really hate that. It goes on for years and years until finally some people do go crazy. It’s so sad. They just want someone to listen and say it’s okay.”

  “Camden will be okay, too, Lily.”

  “You know he isn’t human.”

  “I keep forgetting.”

  “Anyone with that much psychic ability has to be from another more advanced civilization.”

  Not the kind of crap he needs to hear right now. “You’re right. Stupid of me.”

  “I’m surprised he married Ellin. Inter-species mating isn’t always successful.”

  I don’t know when I’ve ever been so glad to hear my phone ring. “Please excuse me.”

  She hopped out of the chair and down the steps. “Oh, I’ve got to go. See you!”

  I answered the phone. It was Pierson.

  “Checking in, as ordered, Randall. I went to visit Baseford. I know we’ve had our differences, but I never wanted anything to happen to him. If he had killed himself over my spoons, I’d feel responsible.”

  Not exactly th
e words of a cold-blooded murderer. “You don’t think he was mad enough to steal your artwork?”

  “I thought so at first, but it’s really not his style, and now, after this attempt on his life, I’m even more certain he had nothing to do with the theft. Are you any closer to solving this? The buyer will need an answer tomorrow. If you have any possible way to find my treasures, you must do it now.”

  Do it now. That’s what Mason had said into his phone, setting his plan into action. I had a good idea his plan was to plant the spoons, zap Baseford, and frame him for the robbery and murder—and I had an even better idea of who helped him.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “I Rage, I Melt, I Burn”

  The Herald office bustled as if nothing had happened. The police had finished in Baseford’s office, and his assistant was stacking books on the desk. He swung anxious eyes my way. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want now?”

  “Need to ask you something.”

  He kept working. “The police have already asked a thousand questions. You can’t pin anything on me. I know I wanted him dead, but I didn’t do it. We all wanted him dead, and he was obliging enough to try to kill himself.”

  I moved a stack of books and sat on one corner of the desk. “This friend of yours you say Baseford ruined. Wouldn’t be Richard Mason, would it?”

  His eyes flickered to me and away. “What if it is?”

  “I’m a private investigator, and I’m trying to solve a couple of murders. You can help by clearing up a few things.”

  He stopped stacking. “Ricky hasn’t said anything about being in danger.”

  Oh, Ricky, was it? “He probably didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Yeah, I have to get after him for this macho thing he has going sometimes. He’ll do the wildest things.”

  “Like taking Art Nouveau spoons and planting them in Baseford’s office? I don’t think you happened to find that box. I think you put it there.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Two reasons. You hate Baseford and want to get him in trouble. You also wanted to help your old pal Ricky get revenge for his art show. Did Ricky tell you those spoons were part of a collection stolen from Leo Pierson?”