INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#12  Harmless by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023

Appalled, Inspector Durant turned to him. “Pascal!  He only had a flute!  Why did you shoot him?”

Lady Gayle screamed as she ran to Neophytos’s body.  As she cradled Neophytos’s head on her lap, with tear-filled eyes she accused Pascal, “Why?? He was harmless!! You’re a horrid, brutal monster!!”

Durant ordered his officers to pull her away from the body.  She pushed away from them and pointed at Pascal, “Murderer!  You just wanted him dead!  He was a genius!  When you couldn’t prove anything, you decided to kill him anyway!”

Sergeant Braque stepped forward and stretched his arm out to keep her away from Pascal.  “Madame…”

She angrily cried. “Why are you protecting him?  There was no reason to kill Neophytos!  He was unarmed!”

Durant spoke up. “Lady Gayle, this is not the place for this! There will be a police inquiry and review board.  I assure you that Inspector Pascal’s actions will be subjected to the highest scrutiny!”

She gestured with disgust. “Look at him!  He knows he was wrong!”

They all turned to Pascal, standing silently staring at Neophytos’s body, with his gun in his right hand lowered at his side and his left hand over his heart.  Durant gestured irritably. “Sergeant Braque, stand down!  Sergeant Sanders, relieve Inspector Pascal of his weapon!”

Sergeant Braque reluctantly stepped aside.  Sanders shouldered past him to Pascal, “Sir, your weapon, please.”  When Pascal didn’t comply, Sanders loosened the safety loop and cautiously rested his hand on his own holstered service pistol and repeated it more firmly, “Sir, your weapon!”

They stared at Pascal, puzzled, then with rising unease.  His head sank lower, his left hand slid down, then his pistol fell from his grip and thudded to the floor.  Braque lunged forward, shoving Sanders aside and caught Pascal as he collapsed.

“Sir!” Shocked, Braque laid Pascal on the floor.  Pascal was completely limp, his face was pale, his hazel eyes were half-lidded and unseeing.

Durant crouched next to him. “What’s going on?”

Braque was disbelieving. “He fainted!” As Braque tugged to loosen Pascal’s tie and unbutton his collar, his hand caught on something sticking out of Pascal’s shirt.

Durant frowned. “What’s that, a fishing fly?”

Braque frowned.  The little bundle of feathers was surrounded by a small blot of bright red, stark against the white of Pascal’s shirt.  He pulled it out and held it up. “It’s some kind of…”  Braque gasped, then he quickly tore open Pascal's shirt to expose the small, bleeding skin puncture.  Aghast, he looked back at Neophytos’s body, the long reed pipes… then down at Pascal’s greying face. “Dear God!  He was shot with a poisoned dart!”  He pressed his fingers against Pascal’s wrist, then to his neck.  Braque looked up at Durant. “His pulse is racing!”

Durant scrambled to his feet. “Sergeant Sanders, help Sergeant Braque!  Officer Kowalski, call the paramedics!  Get the medical kit from the vehicles!”

Durant pointed at Lady Gayle. “She’s dangerous! Handcuff her!  She’s under arrest!”

Two officers grabbed her arms before she could move.  She writhed as they snapped the cuffs on her wrists. “You have no right to do this!”

Durant held up the dart so they could all see it. “Search the body - search her!  Take extreme caution! They are poison-tipped!”

“Sir!”

Durant ran to the officer crouching beside the body.  He pointed to Neophytos’ closed fist, then with a gloved hand eased the fingers apart. They all saw the feathers.  The officer exclaimed. “He has a handful of them!”

“Sir!”

The arresting officers called Durant back. “She had this in her pocket!” They held up a small box and opened it for Durant.

His jaw clenched angrily as he looked at the darts, then at Lady Gayle.  “Harmless was he!”

“Inspector Durant!  Inspector Pascal stopped breathing!  Sgt. Braque has started artificial respiration!”

Durant turned to Lady Gayle and demanded. “What did Neophytos use?”

Contemptuously, she sneered at him, “Eye for an eye.”

Durant went back to Pascal.  As Braque blew air into him, Pascal’s chest would rise slightly, then fall.  Sanders looked up, “Sir! It’s so strange!  His heart is beating, but he can’t breathe or move!”

Durant frowned. “Might be curare… it paralyzes the muscles, but not the heart.  The hospital could confirm.”

Sergeant Braque glanced up. “We have to keep his respiration going! Will it wear off?”

Durant replied. “I think it does, but I don’t know how long it takes.”

Officer Kowalski was there a moment later with the medical kit.  Sanders quickly connected the tubing for the oxygen tank as Kowalski knelt at Pascal’s head, tipped it back and carefully inserted the airway tube.  A few seconds later Braque was easily pumping in pure oxygen; after several moments, Pascal's skin tone became more normal and less grey.

Seven minutes later two people ran in, a police officer followed by a woman in a blue surgical shirt and pants.  She knelt by Pascal and told Braque, “Antidote!”  Sanders quickly cut back Pascal’s sleeve and tightened the rubber tube around Pascal’s arm as the doctor lifted out the syringe from her kit.  A moment later, she injected it into Pascal’s vein, then loosened the rubber tube.

Braque glanced over, “How long?”

“A few minutes…”  She waved to the paramedics crowding in the door. “We need to attach the monitors!”

A half hour later, Sgt. Braque looked down.  Pascal’s nose and mouth were covered by the oxygen mask and his eyes were closed.  Pascal’s right hand was rising up, brushing against Braque’s arm. Braque quickly clasped it, “Sir? Can you hear me?”

After a long moment, Pascal slowly nodded.

Durant squeezed Pascal’s arm, “Inspector! You’re going to be all right!”

Pascal’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh.  His eyes opened woozily. 

Durant leaned closer, “Pascal.”

Pascal’s head rolled towards him. He blinked wanly, trying to focus.

“I owe you an apology.” Durant shook his head bitterly. “He had enough darts in his hand to kill us all!”

Pascal closed his eyes and nodded.    T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#11 On Leave  ©2016-2023 T.K.Naliaka

“Inspector Pascal, I apologize for yesterday.  I didn’t realize the suspect would actually attempt to choke you – so brazenly right in front of everyone.”

Pascal glanced up from his notepad. “It’s all right, Officer Pearl. No real harm done and he’s finally in custody.  Murderers as rule resent being caught - it bursts their egotistic bubble of superiority.  Anyone who concludes that murder is the solution to a problem has a judgment and morality grossly out of line with norms.  They habitually blame everyone else for their failings.  They personalize their grievances. So, never assume they have any shred of normal self-restraint when they hit the brick wall.” Pascal tugged gingerly at his collar. “That’s why we never go out without close protection.”

Pearl considered this thoughtfully as he pulled the steering wheel over to park the vehicle in front of the big warehouse office. “Who is usually assigned to you?”

“Sergeant Braque.  He’s off for the week, taking his wife on a second honeymoon.” Pascal tucked his pad into his suit jacket pocket, “Ready?”

“Yes sir!” Officer Pearl got out and hustled ahead to open the front door of the electronics warehouse for him.

“Inspector Pascal?”

He glanced up from his typing, “Yes?"

“This is Sergeant Iglesias.  He’s replacing Officer Pearl who has been reassigned.”  Lieutenant Klein stepped aside to let Iglesias step in and salute.

Pascal nodded absently and disinterestedly returned the salute. “I see.”

Lieutenant. Klein was very stern. “We’d like to apologize for the stand-off yesterday.  I’m sure it was quite harrowing being held hostage with a knife at your throat for two hours.  I have to mention that everyone was very impressed with your coolness under such stress.”

Pascal tipped his head slightly with a barely neutral shrug and dryly went back to his report. “Just one of those days, I suppose.”

"Well, this here is Sergeant Jansen, who is partnering with Sgt. Iglesias.”

“Sir!”

Pascal turned to look.  He raised his hand to return the salute, then he leaned back in his chair to consider the three of them.

Lieutenant Klein explained. “The department would be more comfortable if you were assigned two men this week.”

“I see.” Pascal closed the dossier.  He stood up stiffly, picked his brown suit jacket off the back of his chair, slipped his arms in the sleeves and shrugged it over his shoulders.

Lieutenant Klein quickly pulled a receipt out of his pocket. “This is a claim for full reimbursement for your grey suit.  We had the tailor look at it and she determined that the slashes really can’t be repaired.”

Pascal took it and tucked it into his pocket. “I appreciate that.”

An hour later, Sergeant Jansen turned the vehicle into a long driveway.  Pascal peered up as they drove under a big sign that read: Aubergine River Fishing and Verde Wilderness Shooting Parlor.  Sergeant Jansen parked the car.  Sergeant Iglesias hustled out and opened the door.  Pascal got out slowly as he looked up at the big glass entry.  A canoe hung over the entrance, framed by a stuffed grizzly on the left and a stuffed polar bear on the right of the doors. 

Jansen held up his hand. “Sir, Lieutenant Klein’s orders are that we reconnoiter first before you go in.  If you would just wait here for five minutes and we’ll come and get you.”

Pascal frowned disbelieving, “Wait… out here?”

Sergeant Iglesias nodded, “Orders, sir.”

Pascal watched them go inside.  He folded his arms and considered the sun-dappled green mowed lawns for five minutes, then leaned around to peer through the doors at the array of big game taxidermy displays, a wall of massive aquariums… but he didn’t see a soul.  Another minute ticked by and there was no sign of Jansen or Iglesias. He pushed the door open slightly, listened, then heard shouts.

Pascal un-holstered his pistol and eased inside.  He crept behind one display, then the next until he had a clear view of a group of four masked armed men standing in front of the fish tanks.  Twenty people sat on the floor looking down with their hands clasped on their heads, including Jansen and Iglesias.  One of the masked men held up a pistol, then aimed it at Iglesias.

Pascal fired.  A vertical line of bullet holes appeared like magic in the center of the huge fish tank glass behind the masked men.  Two seconds later, the entire glass panel cracked.

2000 gallons of water sluiced out of the aquarium.  The startled gunmen were just turning to look when the deluge crashed and swept their feet out from under them, spinning them around on their backs and stomachs, floundering amongst big flapping fish.  Two washed up almost at Pascal’s feet.  As they flailed, trying to get up on hands and knees, Pascal knocked out the closest man with one swing of a canoe paddle against his head, then dropped the other with a karate chop of the paddle.  The other two gunmen were swept straight into Jansen and Iglesias. They pounced, punched and wrested the rifles from the gunmen's hands.

The employees splashed and crawled away, scattering behind the racks and displays. Pascal intercepted two men, picked four coils of line from a shelf and tossed those to them. “Help out!  Tie them up!”  Pascal called out, “Jansen, Iglesias! Are you all right?”

They looked at him wielding a paddle, with two rifles slung over his shoulder, standing in the spreading puddle, then sheepishly at each other. “Yes sir!”

Monday morning, tanned and refreshed, Sergeant Braque opened the door with a sunny smile and a cheerful salute. “Good morning…” He frowned, “Sir! What happened to you?”

Pascal, with his left hand in a cast and sling, got up from his desk and handed him the file as he limped past. “I slipped on a wet floor last week and broke my wrist.”

“Sir. You need to be careful!”

Pascal agreed. “Every time you go on leave, so will I.”   T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#10 The Chimp Plot, by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023

“The chimp…”

“Bonobo.”

“OK, Bonobo the chimp had a…”

“No, Chup’s the Alpha chimp.  The bonobo is Buster.”

Inspector Hart shook his head slightly. “Chup, the chimp bonobo had a…”

“No, it’s a chimp or it’s a bonobo.”

Hart frowned at Jackson, the Apes Supervisor. “What’s a bonobo?”

“Well it’s smaller, chimpanzee-like species.  There, that’s a chimp…”  Jackson pointed to a black-haired male ape sitting on a rock watching them on the other side of the glass window. “… and that’s a bonobo.”  The black-haired male ape sitting on the green grass separated from the other ape by a smooth tall cement wall scratched his underarm as he stared at the group of humans staring at him.

“What’s the difference?”

“The bonobo is a bit smaller and has a full face-frame of hair.”

“I don’t see that.”

“Oh, well, they’re in captivity so it wore off.”

“Wore off…?” Inspector Hart growled, “For the love of…!  They’re chimps! I’m a homicide investigator!”  He snatched up the case and headed for the Apes House exit.  “Inspector Pascal, it’s all yours!” He pushed the briefcase into Pascal’s arms. “God preserve your sanity!”

Pascal watched him go, then looked at the zookeeper. He lowered the briefcase and tugged to straighten his suit jacket. “Ahem.”  He glanced at Sergeant Braque who was keeping a poker face, but barely as he watched with disbelief Hart’s abrupt departure.

This left the two, Pascal and Braque to consider the subtle distinctions to the untrained eye between the representatives of two species of apes intently considering the subtle distinctions of the two humans in return.  Unconvinced, Pascal finally asked. “Mr. Jackson, why do you see this as relevant?”

“Ah!  You see the bonobos and the chimpanzees will fight.  The chimps are bigger so they’ll kill them. We must keep them apart!”

“That’s sensible. What’s the issue we’re not yet seeing clearly?”

Jackson came over, leaning close to whisper. “Someone is trying to murder the bonobos and blame it on the chimps.”

“Murder the bonobos…” Pascal’s hazel eyes widened.  “… blame it on the chimps?”

Jackson nodded.

Sergeant Braque’s poker face failed him this time as his jaw sagged.  He managed to haul it up before Jackson noticed, but the chimp and the bonobo both narrowed their eyes at him.  The chimp got up, sauntered two meters closer and sat down.  After a moment, the bonobo did the same so the two could better monitor Sergeant Braque.

Pascal explained. “Every murder or planned murder is for a purpose.”

Jackson frowned. “Well, I-I don’t really know why.  I just know someone is trying to do it.”

“All right, it’d have to be someone with access - how many people would that be?”

“Four – Gerard, Sandra, Katlyn, Cecile.  But they’re all so dedicated!  It can’t be them!  They love the apes!”

Pascal sighed, “OK. I need to see all records and the security videos.”

Three weeks later, the bonobos, the chimpanzees and the five zoo staff watched Pascal pace slowly in front of the reinforced glass windows. “Once the problem is identified correctly, then it’s easy to make sense of all the disparate pieces.  The absolutes are few, but simple: complete access to the zoo - specifically the ape habitats; long experience with ape behavior; a motive.  Critically, nothing is gained by an ape brawl.  The zoo would simply obtain replacements and put in more chimp-bonobo barriers.  Therefore, the chimps and the bonobos are not the targets, but the means.”  Pascal turned to the staff. “Someone is trying to murder Mr. Jackson.”

Pascal’s stern gaze focused on the humans. “Who is next in line to step into the position here as Apes Supervisor after his unfortunate death trying to break up a chimp-bonobo fight?”  He held up a screen shot of video.  “You know how to avoid being recorded by the zoo cameras, but not the one I put up twenty days ago.”  Her mouth twisted bitterly as she glared back at Pascal.

The other four stared at Cecile. Katlyn gasped, “How could you do that?!  They’re endangered creatures!”

Sandra exclaimed, “Katlyn!  She wanted to kill Mr. Jackson just because she wanted his job!”

With a screech, Cecile drew a pick from her pocket and launched herself at Pascal.  He parried the stab but her momentum knocked him back up against the windows. The sharp pick gouged the glass.  The startled chimps and bonobos both tumbled over in their frantic scrambling to the far end of their enclosures as Pascal wrestled with Cecile for the control of the weapon.  A second later, a steel cuff clicked tight on her right wrist.  Braque hauled her off Pascal and pinned her to the ground.  He pulled her flailing left hand around and secured the cuff on it as she kicked and screamed.

Gerard ran out calling on his radio and waving to the security guards standing by the giraffe enclosure.  They ran into the building, then hesitated, hearing and seeing the crazed woman. “Wait… isn’t that Cecile?”

Braque shouted at them. “Secure her legs so she can’t run and get her out of here!  She’s under arrest!”  He turned quickly to Pascal, “Sir! Are you all right?”

Pascal nodded as he pressed his folded kerchief to his bleeding palm. “It’s just a shallow gash; it’s not serious.”

The screeching apes leaped from their perches, charged the lengths of their enclosures, slapped against the windows, then charged back howling.  Sergeant Braque drew himself up to his full height, clenched his fists, stepped to the glass and roared. “SIT DOWN and SHUT UP!”

Both species froze, then lowered their rears to the ground and sat mute with their arms crooked over their heads.

Pascal, Jackson, Gerard, Katlyn and Sandra stared at the animals, then at Sergeant Braque then back at the chastened chimps and bonobos.  Jackson exclaimed. “You’re a natural with apes! You want to work here?”

Pascal chuckled as Braque shook his head. “I get plenty of this in my current job already, no thanks.”
                                                         by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#9 Joyful by T.K. Naliaka ©2016

    “M-m-my n-name is J-J-Joy… J-Joyful M-M-Marcos…”
    “Joyful Marcos…?” He peered at her, “… Mexican?”
    Petite, in a white apron over a classic black maid’s skirt and blouse with her long black hair held away from her face by a white headband and tied in a bun, the maid shrank in her chair as all eyes focused on her, “N-no. I-I-I  f-f-from Ph-Ph-ilipp-ppines.”
    Inspector Farragut turned aside and leaned over to mutter to the man standing beside him. “Inspector…what did she say?”
    Pascal murmured into his ear, “Philippines.”
    Farragut grumbled. “I can hardly understand her.”
    Tacrone Antoine threw out his hands. “See what we’ve been putting up with?  My wife felt sorry for her, kept her on and now she’s dead thanks to her incompetent ignorance!”
    Joyful cried out. “It was accident!”
    Tacrone Antoine jabbed his finger at her, “Oh yeah?  You didn’t clean up last night and this morning you were talking smack to her face when she told you to do your job!”
   She paled and cried, “No!”
   Farragut gestured with his chin. “Mr. Antoine, would you please come outside with me?”
    The door closed.  After a minute of watching Joyful weep, Pascal spoke up. “Sergeant Braque, can you find us some water and a couple of glasses… a small towel?”
    “Yes sir.”
    Pascal sighed and pulled a chair over to sit near her.  He offered her a clean kerchief, “Here, wipe your face.”
    She sniffed, but she took it.  Two minutes later Braque was back with a towel, a pitcher and a pair of tumblers.  Pascal decanted water for her and for himself.  He held out a glass.  After a moment she accepted it and after another prompting from him, took a swallow, then a second after he drank some of his to encourage her.  He poured a little water on the towel to dampen it and gave it to her to cool her swollen, reddened eyes.  After another few minutes he offered, “I don’t think your name is J-J-Joyful.”
    She shook her head miserably. “Joyful.”
    “It’s a lovely name. Your mother must have been so happy when you were born.”
    Her tears welled up, but she nodded.  She looked at him and begged. “Please, don’t anyone tell her what I did.”
    Pascal glanced at Braque, standing quietly by the windows. “What did you do?”
    She twisted the towel in her hands. “I came this morning and the kitchen was all mess, with wine spills, broken glasses and dishes and food just dumped everywhere.  Miss Tey’nesha came in very angry and yelled at me for not cleaning up last night, but I was trying to tell her I had cleaned up – everything!” Her lips trembled as she took a deep breath. “It took me two hours to clean it.  I had all the cleaning supplies out on the counter.  Mr. Tacrone came in and said Miss Tey’nesha wanted the bourbon and some ice and water, so I gave him everything and he took it all back to their bedroom.  Then after a while I heard him shouting on the phone for the doctor.  He came in and threw everything on the counter to the floor.  He said I gave him bleach instead of water!  I ran to their bedroom and she was on the floor screaming and vomiting!”  She looked up, clasped her hands and pleaded heavenwards. “I didn’t mean to!  I’m sorry!”
    Pascal leaned back and sat silently.  He looked at Braque, then stood up. “Can you show us?”
    She nodded.  They followed her to the kitchen. Pascal looked around. “It’s immaculate.”
    She blinked. “But, I had to clean it all up.”
    “Ok… bring out the cleaning supplies – exactly how they were.”
    She opened the under-sink cabinet and set all the containers on the counter.  After a moment, Pascal said, “Show me the bourbon, ice and water.  Exactly how you gave them to him.”
    She opened the freezer and set out the box of ice on the counter, used tongs to fill a small ice bucket, then she took out a bottle of water from the cupboard.  She opened another cupboard, looked up and down and pushed at the bottles, “The bourbon...”
    “Perhaps it’s still in the bedroom?”
    She nodded. “Yes!”
    Pascal and Braque followed her.  It was unpleasant with the stench of vomit, so she covered her nose with the kerchief as she cast about anxiously looking for the bottle, checking the dressers, opening the doors of the nightstands, then she went on her hands and knees to look under the big king bed.  She stood up, stymied.  Braque pulled on his gloves and went into the adjoining master bathroom as Pascale opened one of two large walk-in closets.  A minute later Braque left the bathroom and began searching the other closet.
    “Sir! I found it!”
    Pascal went in to look where Braque was pointing. “That’s interesting.”
    Thirty minutes later, Tacrone Antoine twisted around in his chair and exclaimed, “Wait! What are they doing?”
    Standing behind Farragut, Pascal nonchalantly thumbed through his notepad. “The odor will ruin everything before they can sanitize the room.”
    Antoine stood up with alarm as the officers carried armloads from the closets - clothes, suits, dresses, shoes, boxes, bags, suitcases out to pile on the patio couches. Pascal glanced at his watch, “A little sunshine and fresh air. We’ll back in an hour; get it all packed back inside for you before tonight.”
    Left alone, ten minutes later Antoine had his gym bag at his feet, the bourbon bottle in one hand and his other hand turning on the garden spigot.  Pascal strolled up. “$100 a bottle bourbon and hose water… mind if I have a taste?”
   Antoine froze, then he looked at the police closing around him. Braque took the bottle of bleach-tainted bourbon out of his hand. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Tey’nesha Antoine.”
    Pascal watched them go, then he walked over to Marcos. “Has joy been restored to you?”
    She wiped her tears, nodded and smiled.
                                                            by T.K. Naliaka ©2016 All rights reserved

                              INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
                                           # 8 A Beautiful Cup ©2016 T.K. Naliaka

    “Inspector Pascal!”
    He glanced away from his monitoring of the knot of officers and forensics experts conferring inside the ramshackle old farmhouse, “Yes?”
    “Sgt. Braque is asking for you!”
    Big and broad-shouldered, Braque was squatting by the edge of the silage pit.  He straightened.  “Sir, it’s far worse than anyone thought.” He grimaced. “There are more than a couple of bodies – a lot more. That, this decrepit property… everyone’s uneasy.”
    “Sergeant, the deceased owner was 102 years old.  Mrs. Deveraux simply wasn’t physically able to keep up the property after her husband died. They’re wasting their time focusing on her.”  After they hiked together back up the short path to the stable, Pascal stopped to pivot slowly to see what he could of the three adjacent properties. “It must be someone close by - who knows this place very, very well.”
    Fifteen minutes later, Pascal halted discreetly by the driveway of the neighboring house a quarter-mile away.  From where he stood at that vantage point, the property line was obvious. Overgrown with hedgerow and tall grasses, vines and dead trees, the Deveraux ten-acre parcel seemed an abandoned wilderness alongside the eight-acre perfectly manicured grounds in front of him.  The neighbor’s brick rambler was immaculate, no shutters hanging by one hinge, no weeds, not a blade of grass out of place.  Neat flower beds bloomed with summer flowers.
    Sgt. Braque phoned him. “I got the property records you asked for.”
    Pascal listened, then he said, “Please ask Inspector Schmidt to get over here.”
    Five minutes later, Schmidt drove in and parked.  The front door opened and a brunette woman of about fifty, dressed in a floral shirt over mid-calf pants and sandals came out of the house. “Can I help you?”
    Schmidt showed her his badge. “We’re investigating a problem next door to you.”
    “Oh my, we’ve been very curious! There are so many police cars over there today!  Is everything all right?”
    Pascal noticed a solidly-built man of about sixty standing just inside the house, watching them as Schmidt replied. “I’m afraid not, Madame.”
    “I’m Lil Park and that’s my husband Raymond. Would you like to come in?  We were just sitting down for some tea.” She called him. “Raymond, this is Inspector Schmidt with the police department!  There’s a problem at Mrs. Deveraux’s property and they’d like to speak with us!” She waved apologetically. “You know men; he’s just not a big talker!”
    Raymond sat in a corner chair to watch them as they sat on the couch.  She emerged from the kitchen with a large tray.  She set a gold-rimmed china cup and saucers in front of them, each with its own small pitcher of milk, sugar bowl and a silver spoon.  Pascal raised his cup to inspect the intricate blue, white and gold design and the Korean manufacturer’s stamp on the bottom. “This is a beautiful tea set.”
    She smiled. “Why thank you! I was raised to always give our guests the best we have.”
    Pascal turned the cup in his hands thoughtfully as Schmidt pulled out his pad. “Mrs. Park, I need to ask you some questions - whether you’ve seen anything unusual.   Strangers passing through, that sort of thing.”
    “It’s very quiet here so we don’t usually see anybody.” She added. "That widow Deveraux, she’s a bit strange you know, so we keep to ourselves.”
    Schmidt clarified. “She’s deceased.”
    “Oh!  How sad!”  She indicated Pascal’s empty cup. “Can I pour some tea for you?”
    The doorbell rang.  After a long moment, Pascal asked. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
    She shrugged. “It’s probably just another pesky salesman.  Does our house look like it needs a new roof?”
    Pascal set the cup down and stood up. “I’m expecting a document.”
    “Oh!”  She rose quickly to shadow him to the front door.  Outside, Braque was waiting.
    Pascal took the folded paper from him and tucked it into his suit pocket. “Thank you Sergeant. We won’t be long.  Wait for us outside.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    As she escorted him back to the others, Pascal paused and asked. “You’re traveling soon?”
    She pulled the bedroom door shut. “N-no… just tidying up.”  She smiled. “I didn’t catch your name?”
    “Inspector Pascal.”
    “Oh!  You’re an Inspector… also!”
    Pascal sat down; noticing that Raymond’s intense gaze had shifted from Schmidt to fix on him, then to the window whenever there was a glimpse of any of the three police officers outside, then unwaveringly back to him, as if Schmidt wasn’t even there conducting an interview.
    Ten minutes later, greatly relieved to be back outside in the driveway, Pascal sternly stopped Schmidt. “The woman is lying.”
    “Her?  She’s cookies, tea, gardening and crochet.” Schmidt gestured dismissively.  “Look at this place; this is hardly the lair of a crazed mass-murderer.”
    “Harmless… so you drank her tea.  How many others did too… and regretted it?” 
    Schmidt paled. “They wouldn’t dare.”
    Pascal agreed, “Never with witnesses.”
    Schmidt pulled Pascal aside. “You know I need more than that to go on!” 
    “They’ve packed a room-full of suitcases; they’re in a hurry to leave. They’ll disappear and set up somewhere else!”
    “But, there’s absolutely nothing on them, no police records…”
    Pascal unfolded his paper and held it up. “Does either of these two people look familiar?”
    “No.”
    Pascal raised an eyebrow. “But, we were just talking with them.”
    Schmidt quickly took the paper.  He peered at the copy of two drivers’ licenses, then read the home address on both, then the house number in front of them, “Rae and Lily Park... Korean!”  He gasped, “Stolen identities!”
    “Yes, I think we have two very, very cunning and dangerous people who kill and have been killing for a long time.  I shudder to consider the fate of that Korean couple who owned this place.”  Pascal shook his head grimly. “They needed widow Deveraux; as long as she was alive, her ramshackle property was cover for them.  The stolen home was the perfect trap; outside beautiful, but with treachery and wickedness inside.”
                                                           ©2016 T.K. Naliaka All rights reserved

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#7 The Greenhouse Case ©2016-2023 T.K. Naliaka

“The department appreciates Inspector Pascal’s preliminary efforts in organizing this investigation.  It has moved to a higher level of expertise, thus I and my associates will be leading it from this point on-wards!”

Standing by the glass entry vestibule, Sergeant Braque frowned and glanced at Pascal, back-dropped and framed by green tropical plants and the grid of the glazed greenhouse steel frame, standing still by the work table, with his left hand outstretched to set the dossier on the tabletop.  After a moment, Pascal seemed to be aware that all eyes were looking at him, then at Inspector Garland and back at him again.  He straightened, deferring to the senior investigator’s authority as if it was the most perfectly normal circumstance to have another inspector barge in and snatch a case out of the hands of an investigator junior to him right in front of an audience of murder suspects and other police, “Yes, sir.”

Inspector Garland crunched down the gravelly greenhouse aisle with his hand held out for the file.  Braque’s eyes narrowed, knowing how much work Pascal had already done for the case as he watched Pascal force himself to hand it over.  Inspector Garland took the dossier with crisp professional decisiveness and opened it.  But before he could humiliate Pascal any further by boxing him awkwardly between him and the table, Pascal stepped aside smoothly and walked away to park himself beside Braque with his hands clasped behind his back.  Sergeant Braque glanced at him.  Pascal’s face was a bland, unreadable mask, but Braque could tell he was angry. Braque peered sideways to monitor the slight smirk on his counterpart, Sergeant Ricardo, assigned to Garland, standing across the vestibule entry from him with two other uniformed police officers.

Inspector Garland paged through the documents then raised his gaze to the three men, “You! What do you do?”

The man, in a blue work coverall answered. “I’m the gardener.”

“When did you first notice that the greenhouse door had been broken into?’

He pointed to the man in a khaki shirt and trousers. “He noticed it first.”

“Who are you?”

He replied, “The greenhouse production manager.”

“Of course. When did you see this?"

“Well… when I got to work at 7 a.m. as usual.”

“So, you found the body at 7 a.m.”

“N-no… I didn’t find the body.  He did.”

“And you are…?”

“The groundskeeper.”

Garland raised an eyebrow.  “I thought he said he was the groundskeeper.”

“No-no, I’m the gardener!”

“What’s the difference?”

Sergeant Braque watched Pascal’s mouth press into a tight line.

“Well, I maintain the flowerbeds and ornamentals and he mows the lawns, does the tree pruning and hedge trimming.”

“All right then, what do you do?”

“I’m responsible for the ornamentals production.”  He swept his arm to indicate the rows of potted flowering plants around them. “We sell all these.”

Garland frowned. “What do you mean… ornamentals?”

“You know, potted houseplants – flowers mostly, fancy tropical plants.  It’s geranium season so we’re selling a lot of those.  Next to poinsettia season for Christmas, now is our most profitable month of the year.”

Garland nodded. “So, you work with him.”

“No, I’m the gardener.”

Garland glared at him. “I heard that already!”

“I work outside.  He works inside.  Get it?”  He twisted around to appeal to Pascal, delivering a coup capable of derailing Pascal’s career advancement. “Can’t you please explain it to him?”

Aghast, Braque watched Garland’s face turn red. “I can cite you for being uncooperative!”

The gardener protested. “I’ve answered everything you’ve asked!  Twice!”

Braque was surprised to see that Pascal’s stoic comportment had shifted to the intense stillness of a cat with its prey in sight.

Suddenly, Pascal strode forward to the greenhouse manager and demanded. “Why was the groundskeeper inside the greenhouse before you arrived at 7 a.m.?”

The two of them, the gardener and greenhouse manager looked up at him, then both turned to stare at the groundskeeper. “That’s a good question.”

The groundskeeper jumped up, but Sergeant Braque had one cuff on him, then the other before he could take a single step and shoved him back into his chair. “Sit down!”

Pascal addressed him coldly.  “He caught you trying to rob the cash register inside the greenhouse, so you killed him, but the manager arrived!  You simply didn’t have time to grab the money, so it didn’t appear that robbery was the motive!”  Pascal turned to Inspector Garland, “Inspector, my compliments for so efficiently uncovering the truth.”

After a startled moment, Sergeant Ricardo hustled to take charge of the suspect from Sgt. Braque.  Braque went back to stand by Pascal at the vestibule.  Inspector Garland looked at all them looking at him, the two other police officers glancing thoughtfully between him and Pascal. “Inspector, you’re dismissed!”

Pascal replied, “Yes, sir!”

Hustling to keep up with Pascal as he strode to their vehicle, Sgt. Braque frowned. “Sir, you had it in your hands to take back the case, but you just validated him instead. Why?”

Pascal stopped to peer at the blue sky then he replied. “What’s more important?  Squabbling with him for the credit or bringing a murderer to justice?  Garland got what he wants, fleeting glory for his performance appraisal that he’ll find is hard to maintain and I got what I wanted when I was assigned to this case.  I’m here to serve justice on behalf of the victim by identifying his murderer.  That is the only reason that brought us here.  I was just worried that the killer would be able to slip away, but we got him.  Success was achieved… point final!”

“Very good, sir!”

“Let’s go home. Tomorrow there will be another case to solve.” Pascal glanced back at the greenhouse as he opened the car door and then grinned at Braque. “And I’m in a hurry to make myself scarce; with my phone OFF before Garland realizes he’ll be working past midnight with the administrative paperwork.  He wanted it, so it’s all his!”
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