A Knife to Remember

Abington and Lynette Harwell. They sniped at each other, but it had a quality of old stuff that neither of them really had their heart in. Cavagnari was unaware of anybody except as an audience to listen to a confusing story about a set that blew up or blew down or something. I think it was in Prague, which is very possibly the most boring place on earth to hear about.'

“What about Jake? How did he act?'

“No particular way. He didn't say much. He pretended to politely listen to Cavagnari. Ate all his lunch as if he had nothing especially important on his mind.'

“You didn't sense that he felt he was in danger?'

“No. Not at all. But then, I didn't know the man. I wouldn't have any idea what's normal behavior for him.”

They watched as Mel crossed the backyard toward the house. He came into the living room a minute later with the police secretary in tow. 'Mrs. Jeffry, would you please repeat for the record what you heard earlier today? The conversation you overheard?”

Very formal, aren't we? Jane thought, and responded in kind. 'Of course, Detective Van Dyne. I'm sorry, but I don't remember the exact words, only the gist. Two people were speaking—'

“Are you sure of that?”

Jane thought for a minute. 'I think so. At least the context of the conversation suggested that there were only two. The first one said something about one of the actresses getting sick and that the other one knew what he wanted done. There was something about talking to the director and the second one said he and the director didn't get along and he wouldn't help. Then the first one said something about remembering some porn flicks and how they didn't give prestigious awards to people who had been in them.'

“And…?' Mel prodded.

“And nothing. That was it.'

“Nothing more specific than that?'

“The blackmailer mentioned the names of some movies, but I don't remember exactly what they were. One was Something Bambi or Bambi Something. The other one had something to do with college. Classroom Capers or something like that.”

Mel thought for a moment and the secretary sat with her pencil poised like an automaton with her batteries turned off.

“You keep saying 'he,' ' Mel said. 'Were the speakers both men?'

“I'm not sure. I thought they were, but I couldn't be positive. They were whispering.'

“And you could hear them?'

“Whispering loudly,' Jane said, feeling foolish. It was his job to pick holes in her story, but he didn't have to be so good at it. She was sure he was picturing her in the undignified position of having her ear glued to the back of the set, which was true.

“Okay. What about the way they spoke. I mean the grammar. Were they both educated sounding? Could you discern any accent? Any speech impediment?”

Jane considered carefully. 'No, there was nothing remarkable in any way. Normal language. No glaring errors. No lisp or anything like that.”

He asked a few more questions about the time of day she heard them, the duration of the conversation, and her proximity to the speakers, then dismissed the secretary. He walked over and stared out the back window for a minute. 'These are the oddest people. Look at them. Everybody looks busy, but you can't tell exactly what any of them are doing. And they just keep doing it. Murder doesn't seem to faze them. I like for people to be taken aback by death. At least for a little while.”

Mel seldom spoke seriously about his job and Jane was surprised. She and Shelley waited for him to go on, but instead he turned back to them and smiled. 'You got your kitchen cleaned up, didn't you?'

“Not really,' Jane admitted. 'I just shoved most of the mess out of sight. I'll sort it out later and get things back to their proper places. Anybody who tries to use the guest bathroom is in for a horrible shock.'

“Anything missing?' Mel asked.

“Who could tell? I doubt it. Mel, you haven't told us… how was Jake killed?'

“Stabbed. And the knife was jammed out of sight under the metal railing to the trailer. Blade outward. That's how the Kowalski kid cut his hand — if he's telling the truth.'

“Mel, you don't suspect him!' Jane exclaimed. 'He's a bone-deep nice kid.'

“You know him? Well?'

“Well enough. I only met him once, but he was nice to my cats. Stop giving me that look! I know it sounds stupid, but a person who is gentle and considerate to animals can't be a murderer.'

“No? I was on a case once where the mass murderer fed his victims to his dogs.'

“Oh, please—' Shelley said, turning away.

“Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'll take note of your evaluation of Butch Kowalski, Jane. Now, I have an important question for you.”

He picked up the big manila envelope he'd put on the coffee table when he came in. He opened the end of it and very carefully pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was a blood-encrusted knife. 'I'm sorry, Jane, but you must look carefully at this. Have you ever seen this knife before?”

Jane didn't answer for a long moment. Not because she didn't know the answer, but because she hated having to say it. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, 'Yes, it's mine.”

10

“How can you be so sure?' Mel asked. He sounded as if he was giving her every opportunity to change her mind.

Jane would have loved to take the admission back, but couldn't. 'The kids gave me the set last Christmas. There are four and they go into a sort of chopping block thing. I accidentally set this one on a hot burner and part of the handle melted a little. See those two burner marks? And then Mike took it to his room to open a box and it hung around up there and got some green model airplane paint right where the blade fits into the handle. You can see a little of it.'

“Are you okay, Jane?' Shelley asked.

“Yes. Just a little woozy feeling. Mel, please put it away.'

“Sure. I'm sorry. You hadn't missed it when you cleaned up the mess in your kitchen?'

“No, why should I? I wasn't taking inventory and haven't even finished cleaning up. And even if I had noticed it wasn't in the block with the others, I'd have just assumed it was in the dishwasher or with the stuff I shoved into the guest bath.'

“Do you remember where you last had it?' Mel asked.

“Mel, I don't pay that kind of attention to every kitchen utensil. Now, if you wanted to know the last time I hauled out the pasta maker or the cookie press or the electric meat slicer, I could probably tell you. But an everyday kitchen knife—? No. It's like an extension to my hand. I use it without even thinking.”

She heard the sound of her own voice rising toward hysteria and took a deep breath, turning away to study the view out the window while Mel rattled around putting the gory knife back into the envelope. It was starting to get dark, but the movie production showed no signs of slowing down.

“This Kowalski person you mentioned is Jake's assistant, right?' Shelley asked Mel. 'Why do you think he's lying about cutting his hand by accident?'

“I don't necessarily think he's lying,' Mel said, putting the envelope next to the sofa out of sight. 'I'm just saying it's possible. If he stabbed Jake Elder and in the process cut his own hand, he might have shoved the knife into the railing in order to make another explanation for his injury.”

Jane had pulled herself together. 'Even so, and putting aside my own impression of Butch, why would he kill Jake? Jake was his mentor, his employer.'

“Proteges have knocked off mentors before, Jane,' Mel said. 'Sometimes that's how they get to be mentors in their turn. Or, suppose this: Butch had made some screw-up that Jake was not only going to fire him for, but bad-mouth him throughout the business. I get the impression from talking to people that Jake Elder knew everybody