Murder Mystery

“Lethal dosage of acetaminophen – 50 or more tablets. Washing it down with alcohol may increase effectiveness.” Susie was muttering as she leafed through the book, taking notes as she went. “That may be the easiest solution to get hold of. Then claim the symptoms are flu until the liver shuts down.”

She sat and looked at her pages of notes on common poisons and how easy they were to obtain, and pros and cons of each for murder. She was a 50-year-old woman with wild hair, dressed casually in jeans, a faded Ramones T shirt and brightly colored Crocs. She did not look out of place in the library. She was comfortable there, a regular visitor. Today, she had a stack of half a dozen books on poisons and medicines beside her.

When her friend Pilar asked why she didn’t just use the internet, she smiled wisely. All writers know the police always look at someone’s search history when they’re suspicious.

Today had been intense for study, and she tried to relax her stiff body. She stood and raised her arms up high, then walked up and down the closest aisle. Glancing around to satisfy herself that no one could see her, she did a series of warm-up lunges. Then she sat down in the hard-backed wooden chair and curled up, head on her knees, hands touching her ankles.

As she was down there, stretching her spine, she heard a fragment of quiet conversation from the next aisle. “Is it easier to get castor beans or deadly nightshade?”

Susie smiled. Another writer, perhaps? She stayed in place, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation.

“Ricin sounds really effective. We could get rid of her in a matter of hours.” A man’s voice with a trace of an accent.

She frowned. Maybe someone euthanizing a pet? Now intrigued, she stayed bent over.

“But belladonna sounds like it might have been suicide.” A woman’s voice, no obvious accent. Note to self: not a pet. “We don’t want anyone to think it was deliberate.” Hmm. Odd way to discuss a plot. Sounds more like…

Murder? An actual, real murder being planned in my local library?

Susie sat up slowly. She should be panicking, she realized. But the mystery author in her was excited. This was her chance to play at being a detective. What an opportunity to gain insight into real murderers and true crime.

She picked up her stack of books and walked noisily towards the direction of the voices. A middle-aged man and a young woman fell silent as she replaced books on the shelves. She looked over at them, stared at the book they had open between them.

“Oh, are you writers too? If you want to use poison in a novel, this book is an absolute goldmine of information!” She showed them the heavy volume she had slogged through that morning. Smiling, she added “These aisles are always a hotbed of people doing research for books and plays.”

The man smiled calmly and dipped his head towards her, taking the book from her hands. “Thank you for the information,” he said in that slight foreign accent she couldn’t place, “we are very new to this.” Then he turned away from Susie, back to his companion. “How funny to meet another author here!”

The young woman smiled at him and nodded. They both ignored Susie, who took the hint, moving away to check out the two books she wanted to take home.

Ryan, the librarian, greeted her warmly. She was one of his favorite customers. “A murder mystery this time?” he asked, as he swiped the barcodes of the poison textbooks.

Susie couldn’t help smiling at the double meaning. “Yes. Those are always popular. We’re lucky to have such a comprehensive library here. Love stories are also good sellers, but I like the challenge of the mystery.”

“Let me know when your next one’s coming out. I always enjoy reading them. See you soon.” Ryan nodded to her as she walked outside.

Outside in the sunshine, there was a bench in front of a small goldfish pond. In the middle was a statuette of a small boy clutching a fish, pouring water into the pond. Susie sat on the bench, her books and notepad beside her, with her phone in her hand, pretending to talk through her headset microphone.

After a few minutes, the man and woman exited the library together. Susie kept silent as they passed her, and the woman paused and said hi to her. Susie looked up, apparently confused, then nodded and gave a small wave, before saying into the mic “OK, Pilar, I’ll wait by the entrance to the parking lot…Yes, I know…See you in a few minutes.”

The couple moved away, not noticing when Susie took their picture on her phone. She waited until they had walked out of sight around the corner before putting the books in her shopping bag and walking to the gateway. Once there, she stood and kept glancing along the road, apparently waiting for her friend to appear. She still had the phone in her hand, and she took pictures of each car exiting. She avoided looking directly at the occupants but checked the phone screen to make sure she had captured the information she needed.

At home, with a pot of chamomile tea and a plate of homemade cake, she downloaded the pictures to her desktop and scrolled carefully through them. Of course, she had no idea whether the two left together in one car, or separately in two. Or one or both of them could have walked away. She had taken three pictures of cars with two occupants. One of those appeared to be a man and a woman. The others didn’t resemble the two people she spoke to in the library. There were five pictures of cars with one occupant. None of them looked like the middle-aged man, but one could have been the young woman. She printed four pictures. Two showed the couple walking away from the library on foot. The other two were the cars that might be her target. She zoomed in to each of those to make sure the make, model, color and number plate of each car were clearly identifiable.

Chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of rich chocolate cake, she considered her situation.

They could still be writers, researching like I was. But they could be plotting a real murder. They said, “get rid of her.” So, the victim is female. Perhaps his wife, or her mother. But it could be anyone they don’t like. Or someone they can rob or inherit money from.

I should go to the police. I’ve amassed enough evidence for them to identify the pair and investigate. I don’t suppose I have enough to convince anyone that they are planning to kill someone. But if I do nothing, and a woman dies before I come forward, that will make me complicit in her killing.

It's a small town. I have a couple of clues from their conversation. I can identify the car they drove. If they plan to purchase seeds and then make poison, I have at least a few days, maybe much longer, to try and find them.

She finished the pot of tea, deciding on her next steps.

“Hi, Pilar. I have a huge favor to ask. Do you want to come over tonight and have some of my nasi goreng? I’ll make it extra spicy for you.”

“Hey, Susie. I’ll do pretty much anything for a couple of plates of your nasi goreng. Tonight’s my shopping night, but I can be there by 8.”

In fact, Pilar arrived about 15 minutes early, and Susie opened a bottle of pinot noir for them to drink while she served up steaming platefuls of spicy rice.

“I assume you walked here, so we can get good and drunk?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Pilar laughed and nodded. “It sounds as if you are up to something,” she commented, “so I’m all in.”

They clinked their wineglasses together and started to eat. The food was fresh, sweet and spicy, and there were a few minutes of meaningful grunts while they savored it. Then Susie started to tell her story.

“I was researching poisons in the library today. I overheard two people talking, and it sounded as if they plan to murder someone. I want to check on two cars I saw leaving the library and see if I can figure out who they are.”

Pilar stared at her and put down her fork. “And you haven’t gone to the police because…?”

“It’s just a suspicion. I can’t prove anything. I don’t even know who they want to kill. What could the police do with that except turn me away as an old busybody with an overactive imagination and too much time on her hands?” She accompanied this with a self-deprecating grin, to show this was their opinion, not her own.

“But if I could find out a bit more about them, maybe work out who their intended victim is, then I could go to the police. Look, I have pictures.” Susie reached behind her for the four pictures she printed earlier, and placed them where Pilar could see them.

Pilar stared at the pictures of the two people. “They could be lovers, but they’re not showing it in their body language. Maybe father and daughter?” Then her eyes moved to the pictures of the two cars, and she drew in her breath sharply.

“This is your favor? You want me to abuse my position and find out who owns these cars?”

“And where they live. Yes please. I did say it was a huge favor.” Susie made steady eye contact with her friend, then blinked appealingly. Pilar laughed.

“Well, I probably need to find another job anyway. I’m bored to death in the tax office. And if my bestie is going to track down murderers, I’d be a fool to miss out. OMG! We’re in a mystery novel!!” She raised her glass to Susie, and threw back a hefty mouthful, then refilled it.

Susie joined in the laughter, then quickly sobered. “Are you really sure, Pilar? This is a really big ask. You didn’t give it more than a moment’s thought.”

Pilar loaded another forkful of the nasi goreng into her mouth, chewed slowly, then looked up. “OK, now I’ve given it a minute’s thought. I’m still in. Have I mentioned how much I love being your friend? We’ll never have another adventure like this in Boonetown. Can we do a stakeout?”

The evening went downhill from there, until Pilar staggered home after midnight.

The next day, Susie received the information from Pilar. Wow, she has found out so much. I need to get this organized on a murder board. Fortunately, previous research assignments had equipped her with the corkboard, pushpins and ribbon to map out what she had.

Red Subaru. Ivan Malkov, age 47, lives at 4110 Park Lane. Notes: Accent could have been eastern European. Fancy neighborhood = money at stake?

Black older-model F-150. Cindy Willis, age 21, lives at unit 14 in the block on Town Square. Notes: Odd choice of vehicle for a 21-year-old. Maybe provided by family?

A quick internet search brought out more details. She decided to spring for the cost of a detailed result.

Ivan Malkov, environmental scientist, married to Katy, housewife, age 47. 2 children: Maria, age 23 and Vanya, age 19. Both living at home.

Cindy Willis, elementary school teacher, single. Parents deceased.

It was easy to find a picture of Cindy online. She bore no resemblance to the young woman in the library. Susie removed her from the board.

Ivan Malkov was more elusive. No social media presence for him or any of his family. He had moved into that house more than ten years ago. Susie looked for yearbook pictures for the last ten years in Boonetown High. She clapped her hands when she found several pictures of Maria Malkov. Of course, they were taken a few years ago, but she couldn’t be sure one way or another whether she was the young woman in the library.

After an afternoon of research, Susie printed out all the pictures she had of the family and their house, then carefully deleted all of her browsing history, searches within apps, and emails. She was scrupulously careful about her online history.

At about 6:30 p.m., Pilar rang her doorbell. “What did we find out, Boss?”

Susie led her to the murder board. She showed the picture of Cindy Willis, so they could agree she was no longer a suspect, then they went through everything they knew about Ivan Malkov. “So it looks like you may get your wish – we need to do a stakeout to find out what he and his daughter look like. His accomplice might still not be his daughter. What does an environmental scientist do, anyway? Where would he work?”

Pilar started pacing around the room. “I’ll call in sick tomorrow. This is time-critical, isn’t it? Then we can both watch the house. If one of them leaves, I’ll follow and you can wait to watch for the other. They’ve seen you, so you’d better wear a disguise.”

Susie looked at her in alarm. “I thought I was the creative one and you were the practical one. When did you turn into Jason Bourne?”

But Pilar was on a roll; there was no stopping her. “You can wear business clothes, wear makeup, and put your hair in a ponytail. If they only saw you in your everyday gear, that’ll make you unrecognizable. I bet you don’t even own anything like that – I can loan you something, but you need to lose the Crocs.

“Keep your phone fully charged. We’ll need to stay in touch after we separate. Now, where can we park to be inconspicuous?”

Susie brought up a satellite view of the street. She pointed to a park with a playground a few doors down from Malkov’s house. “We can park there and see if anyone leaves. If they go the other way, you’ll have to follow them immediately.”

They spent the rest of the evening in detailed planning and then found suitable clothes for Susie’s “disguise.”

At 7:00 a.m. the next day, they both drove to the park. The red Subaru was parked in the driveway at the Malkov house. Pilar looked at Susie and doubled over in laughter. “Oh, you have to wear that to the library someday. I bet Ryan will ask you out on a date!”

They both sat in Pilar’s car, chatting and eating breakfast tacos while they kept watch. They’d both watched enough dramas to know that having snacks and drinks was key to a successful stakeout.

Before 8:30, they saw the Subaru pulling into the street and then driving past them with a man at the wheel. “We’re on” said Susie, climbing out of the car, “I’ll phone you in a minute.”

As Pilar drove down the street, Susie went back to her car and moved so she was parked closer to the house, under a shade tree. She had brought a newspaper to read as if she was killing time before an appointment at one of the homes. Once she was set up, she called Pilar. She wasn’t wearing her headset today (no reminders of the woman in the library!), so she put the phone on speaker through the car’s sound system.

Pilar picked up her phone call immediately. “I’m pretty sure it’s him. I’m sending you a couple of photos. He works at MacDougall’s, so it didn’t take us long to get here.”

“Great work, Hastings! Nothing here so far.” The only reason Susie didn’t put on a Belgian accent was that she really wasn’t sure how Belgians sounded.

A few minutes later, she heard Pilar giggling and slamming her door. “I had a great idea. I put a minor scratch in his car, then left a note apologizing and giving him my phone number so I can pay him to ‘keep the insurance companies out of it.’ Driving away now!”

“WHAT? You did what, Pilar? Are you insane? Oooh - did you put your name on the note?” Susie was frantic. She had pretended to talk to Pilar when she was at the library, and it wasn’t a common name.

“No, I gave a fake name, obviously.” Pilar seemed insulted that she had to ask. She was still in full murder mystery mode.

Susie saw the garage door opening. “Sorry, gotta drive now. I think the mother or daughter is coming out.”

“OK, I’ll take your place watching the house. Don’t hang up!”

Susie folded up her newspaper and waited while a gray Miata pulled out onto the road. The top was down, and she could see the driver was a young woman. It could be the woman from the library, but she couldn’t be sure. She put the car into gear and eased out to follow her a few car lengths behind. When they stopped at a red light, she swiftly took a picture.

“I think it’s her. I have her number plate in case I lose her, but I hope I’ll see her get out of the car so I can be sure.”

Pilar was thrilled. “You go girl! I’m waiting with bated breath.”

The next thing Pilar heard was a crash. It sounded as if there had been an accident. “Susie! Are you OK? Susie, speak to me!” There was no reply. The call was still connected, but no further sounds could be heard.

Just after 8:00 p.m., Pilar walked into the police station with all the printouts from Susie’s house. “I want to report a murder plot,” she said. “My friend died in a car crash today. It may not have been an accident.”