Mahjonged (An Alex Harris Mystery) by Elaine Macko Page A

had toyed with the idea of getting it and then decided I didn’t really need it. But when they released the new version, the old one went on sale and I couldn’t resist. Since I bought it, I seemed to use it a lot more than I would ever have imagined.
    “I do. It comes in handy, like now. See,” I said holding up the piece of paper. “Penelope’s address. The first thing I’m going to do is go by Penelope’s house.”
    “Why?”
    I looked at my mother. “I haven’t the faintest idea, but it’s as good a place to start as any and maybe if I stare at it for a really long time, I’ll come up with another suspect. Because one thing I am sure of,” I said, as I took the final swig from my mug, “is that the killer cannot be, I repeat, cannot be, Millie’s mom.”

 
     
     

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
     
     
    Just because you know where you’re headed doesn’t mean you know what you’re going to do once you get there.
    As I drove down streets still strewn with the remnants of the storm, I had no idea what I planned to do once I got to Penelope’s house. Breaking and entering was out. Not because I didn’t want to break and enter. I actually thought it a cool idea, but I didn’t have the first idea on how to go about it. I had seen on TV people slipping a credit card between the door and jam, and voila, it opens. I tried it once. I broke my credit card in two and had to get another one.
    And then there are those clever souls who pull out a hair pin and stick it in the lock, and voila, it opens. I tried that one too. First, I searched my house high and low for a hair pin. Who has hair pins? I ended up using a safety pin to no avail except to stab my fingers several times getting spots of blood on my white door frame. Clearly, I was not breaking and entering material.
    I could walk around the property checking to see if Penelope left any windows open. But why would she? When she left her house, for the last time as it turned out, the storm had already started. She would not have left any windows open.
    So why was I going over there? I had a bag of M&Ms sitting next to me on the passenger seat and I reached over and pulled a few out at the next stop sign. I sat there letting the candies melt in my mouth, thinking about what I planned to do next. A sudden burst of a car horn brought me back to reality and I glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled at the horn blower, who did not smile back.
    I felt compelled for some reason to see where Penelope lived. I just felt a need to see it. I never met the woman before Friday night and I needed to get a feel for her life. Her house seemed the best place to start and so I made a last right-hand turn and slowly drove down her street.
    As I approached the house, someone had beaten me to it. A young woman stood by the curb paying a taxi driver and I could see several suitcases lined up on the sidewalk. The taxi pulled away and I maneuvered my car into the spot.
    I got out and locked the door just as a young man emerged from the house and came over to the sidewalk and picked up the last two suitcases.
    “Hello,” I said, extending my hand to the woman first. “I’m Alex Van der Burg. Is this the home of Penelope Radamaker?”
    “Yes, it is,” she said somewhat hesitantly.
    “Who are you?” the young man asked more harshly.
    I immediately assumed they were brother and sister because they looked so much alike. As a matter of fact, it looked like they could be twins. or at least very close in age. And they were foreign. Their English sounded perfect but I still heard an accent.
    “I’m a friend of Penelope,” I exaggerated. I didn’t know these people and wasn’t sure if they knew Penelope was dead. They were obviously here for a visit and I wondered if Penelope had invited them.
    The young man and woman exchanged glances and then looked at me. “I’m sorry, but Penelope died on Friday night,” the woman said. “By the way, I’m Els Radamaker and this is my brother