Short Story Fiction, Inspector Pascal Mysteries 1000 #9

Precisely 1000-word Fiction Mystery-Adventures of Inspector Pascal

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