Chapter 53
The next morning, we had all gathered at the police station.
Uncle Alec was personally interrogating Marva, since Chase couldn’t do it, being her partner and all.
We were privileged to watch the interview take place, and since Odelia and Chase had been affected, but also Marge herself, and even Tex, the little room on the other side of the one-way mirror was pretty packed.
Even Gran and Scarlett were there, and also Mercedes.
Philomena hadn’t been invited, since she wasn’t part of the law-enforcement contingent or the Neighborhood Watch. And also, Uncle Alec had a feeling she might cause trouble. She’d simply have to wait her turn to get justice when Marva appeared before a judge.
“Look, I didn’t want to kill anyone,” said Marva. “You have to believe me, chief.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I really don’t know what came over me. Some kind of delirium. And I blame it on the spray that superhero freak used on me.”
“He sprayed you after you tried to shoot my sister and her husband,” Uncle Alec reminded his erstwhile officer.
“Yeah, but I must have gotten a whiff of the stuff earlier, when we encountered the Germinator, Chase and I.”
“To my recollection, you never encountered the Germinator,” said Uncle Alec.
“So why don’t you start by telling me the truth, Marva?
Why did you kill Harley Glad? And why did you try to kill my sister?
And don’t give me that crap about a letter she stole.
People don’t kill other people over some silly letter. ”
Marva licked her lips. It was clear that she wasn’t yet ready to tell the truth. “I think I’ll wait for my lawyer,” she said. “Is he here yet?”
“No, he isn’t.” Uncle Alec shook his head. “I’m really disappointed in you, Marva. I actually believed you had a great future ahead of you. You did so well in training, and you were such an addition to the team.”
Marva smiled. “I guess you got fooled, boss.”
Uncle Alec looked up sharply. “What makes you say that?”
“Just… that maybe you shouldn’t put too much faith in people? You are a little too trusting and too naive for your own good, boss.”
It was exactly this sort of thing that put her former chief against her, and soon he left the room to report back to us. Though there wasn’t all that much to report, since Marva insisted that she wasn’t going to sit for an interview without her lawyer present.
“I don’t get it,” said Uncle Alec. “Why did she throw it all away? She had so much going for her. Such a bright future. We found the guitar, by the way. It was hidden under the floorboards at Marva’s place.
Looks like that was part of the reason she killed Harley.
Though I still find it hard to believe she would kill you over some letter, Marge. ”
“It was a pretty spicy letter,” said Marge. “I actually took it out of curiosity, and then after I read it, I wanted to show it to Mrs. Samson, who loves that sort of thing.”
She was referring to Margaret Samson, one of her most loyal library customers, who loves all things saucy and spicy and romantic.
At that moment, an officer entered the room and announced, “He’s here, boss. I’ve put him in interview room number one.”
“That’s our cue,” said Uncle Alec. He nodded to Chase and said, “Okay, let’s do it, buddy. You lead, all right?”
And so the troupe all moved into the next room, while Chase and Uncle Alec got ready for another interview.
This time, the person seated across from them was Daniel Bozek, the guitar player for Turbo Heartthrob.
He didn’t look particularly pleased to be there, but then I guess most people don’t enjoy the experience all that much, even though the Hampton Cove Police Department does try to make the process of being interrogated as smooth and painless as possible.
Uncle Alec even offered the talented musician a cup of coffee, which he refused.
“What is this?” he asked. “What am I doing here?”
“You are here because you are being accused of masterminding several crimes, Mr. Bozek,” said Chase. “One is the murder of Harley Glad, and the other is the attempted murder of Marge Poole. Both are fanatic fans of yours, and both were targeted for the kill.”
The man seemed incredulous. “What are you talking about? Why would I go around murdering fans of my band? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“You didn’t do it yourself, of course,” said Chase. “You got another fan to do it for you. A fan who was particularly vulnerable and ready to do your bidding.”
“What fan? You’re not making any sense!”
“Her name is Marva Prink, and she is—or was—a police officer at this police station. But then I’m guessing you have been grooming other fans to do the same thing elsewhere.”
Uncle Alec placed a book on the table. “We found this in your hotel room. It’s a very interesting little tome, I have to say.”
He held it up, and we saw that it dealt with all matters of entomology.
“Big fan of ants, are you, Mr. Bozek?” asked Uncle Alec as he leafed through the book.
“Especially this piece here that you have marked?” He had put on his reading glasses and read a passage from the page.
“When dealing with parasites threatening the health of the queen and her colony, the best way to get rid of them is by using other, opposing mites, who will kill the invading army of parasites.” He looked up.
“A little like using one section of your fans to get rid of another section, wouldn’t you say? ”
“I still don’t see the point of this whole interview,” said the guitar player, who had folded his arms and sat looking rather annoyed.
“Turbo Heartthrob has become really big over the course of the last couple of years,” said Chase. “And with that success, also your fandom has grown.”
“Some might even say that it has grown out of control,” said Uncle Alec.
“Some of these fans have become quite fanatical. They steal stuff from you, like your guitar, for instance, or they hack your record company’s servers so they can steal your music and put it online.”
“That’s what happened last year, isn’t it? Your brand-new record, that you had worked on tirelessly for months and months, was stolen from the record company’s servers, and all of that precious music was posted online—for the fans to enjoy for free.”
“And who was responsible? None other than Harley Glad. He did it because he could—and because he was such a devoted fan he couldn’t bear to wait for the new music to be released through official channels. So he decided to help himself to your precious songs.”
Daniel Bozek stared at the men, quite stoic.
“I didn’t even know that it was Harley Glad who was behind that theft.
But you’re right. I worked on that album for months—years, even.
When it was illegally downloaded, it was quite the gut punch.
Also because we had devised an entire launch strategy, and now everything was ruined.
We had recorded videos and had devised a plan of touring with the new music.
But that all went out the window. The band lost millions in revenue.
It was a major blow for us and also for the label. ”
“But especially for you,” said Uncle Alec. “Because you are the person who writes the music. These were your songs; your babies. The ones you had worked so hard on. Where you had bared your soul. And now some IT guy with grubby hands simply stole them.”
“So he had to die,” said Chase. “But how to do it without getting personally involved? Easy. Ask another fan to take care of this superfan. Use one mite to slay another mite. And in the meantime, you had an alibi. You weren’t even in town when it happened.”
“You said it, detective,” said Mr. Bozek. “I wasn’t here when it happened. So I can’t possibly be involved. Except for this fantastic story that you are spinning.”
Chase placed a phone on the table. It was wrapped inside a plastic bag. “We found this hidden inside the couch in your hotel room. Looks like you didn’t want us to find it. But fortunately for us, and unfortunately for you, we have a pretty thorough search team.”
Uncle Alec tapped the phone. “On this are the many messages you sent to Marva Prink, telling her who to target, when, and where. You were aware of Harley Glad’s location, and the fact that he had your guitar, so you sent Marva after him.
To get back your guitar, but also to make sure that the man who stole your music paid for it with his life. ”
“This,” said Chase as he held up the phone, “is all the evidence we need to convince the judge to hand down a life sentence. You may not have pulled the trigger, but you may as well have done so.”
Daniel Bozek stared at the two men for a beat, then finally relented.
“You don’t know what it’s like for your songs to be plucked from the safety of your computer and spread far and wide.
It’s as if this man, this Harley Glad, reached into my chest and ripped out my heart and then stepped on it, crushing it under his filthy boots.
I hated what he did, and the moment our technicians found out who was responsible, I started thinking of an appropriate way of dealing with this man, who called himself a fan, but was anything but.
He wasn’t a fan. He was an anti-fan. He was my worst enemy. ”
“So you groomed my colleague and told her to get rid of this superfan,” said Chase.
Bozek nodded. “Look, it wasn’t easy. Marva was reluctant at first. But when I told her that she would do Turbo Heartthrob the biggest favor that anyone had ever done, she agreed.
She managed to get a gun that wouldn’t be traced back to her, and the rest happened the way you said it did.
She got rid of Harley, and in due course I will get my guitar back.
My songs, though, I will never get back. Those are lost forever.”
“They’re not lost,” said Chase. “They’re still yours. Only their release hasn’t gone according to plan, that’s all. Certainly no reason for you to kill a man for.”
“I beg to differ,” said the musician. “But then, of course, you’re not an artist,” he added with a sneer. “So you wouldn’t know how it feels to be robbed of your life’s work.”
“What about my sister?” asked Uncle Alec. “Why did she have to die?”
“Because she had that letter,” said Bozek. “And in that letter, there were clues to what Marva had done and how I was also involved. I needed to get that letter back and make sure that your sister wouldn’t blab.”
“I read that letter,” said Chase, “and there was no reference to you anywhere that I could see.”
“Look more closely, Detective,” said Bozek.
“It’s in there. And even though you weren’t clever enough to work it out, I couldn’t risk being connected to Harley’s murder.
So Marge Poole had to die, and the letter had to be destroyed.
” He shrugged. “Call it thoroughness. I am German, after all, and we Germans pride ourselves on being thorough—even when it comes to murder.” He studied Chase for a moment.
“You know, when you told me Hampton Cove had a one-hundred-percent clearance rate, I didn’t believe you.
But now I have to admit you were right, Detective. Unfortunately for me.”