TIL DEATH

by Annette Dashofy

  “Do you know where Gina was before she died?”

  Zoe remembered the conversation she’d had with Mrs. Wagner. “At work. Her mother said she’d come home afterward and wasn’t feeling well. I meant to go there and ask her coworkers if she’d taken any cold or flu meds that day.” Zoe had been thinking Gina might have died from a bad drug reaction. Not an insulin overdose. “When Franklin died, I never got around to it.”

  Wayne scanned the report once more. “I remember reading that Gina worked in a dress shop.”

  “Langley’s. Downtown.”

  “Not a place where I’d picture Franklin hanging out.”

  The same chill that had been haunting Zoe all morning seized her again. “But Loretta would.”

  Wayne looked at her. “What?”

  “I learned this morning that Franklin and Loretta aren’t legally divorced.” Zoe told him about the missing revised will.

  “Franklin writes up a new will, presumably cutting the old ball and chain out of her inheritance. Then she just happens to show up in town…and he just happens to turn up dead.”

  “Doesn’t explain Gina though.”

  “No, it doesn’t. I think I need to speak with Gina Wagner’s coworkers.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Zoe said

  He glared at her. “Not your job.”

  “I was going to talk to them last week before everything went crazy.”

  “Still. Not your job.”

  “I’m the one who brought this to you.” She jabbed at the folders in Wayne’s hands.

  “Not. Your. Job.”

  He wasn’t backing down.

  But neither was she. She simply decided to let him think she was. “Fine.” She started to turn away but stopped. “There’s something else.”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Your sister.”

  “What about my s—” He paled as realization hit. “Oh my God.” Wayne thrust the folders at Zoe and bolted.

  She followed him, jogging to keep up with his long strides as he retraced their steps to Abby’s room.

  His sister and Seth looked up as they burst through the door. Wayne looked at Seth. “I want you to stay with her until I get back.”

  “Okay.” Seth dragged the word out, clearly uncertain why he was being given orders to do what he’d planned all along.

  Wayne turned to his sister. “You. Don’t eat or drink anything unless one of us personally brings it to you. Nothing from the hospital. Okay?”

  “No problem. What’s this about?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I want to err on the side of caution.”

  A memory stirred in Zoe’s brain like the tickle of a feather.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Wayne faced Zoe, his jaw clenched. “You stay here.”

  She had other plans, but what Wayne didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “I have to get back to work. You go talk to Gina’s coworkers.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “You’re letting me go without you?”

  “Like you said. Not my job. But I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know what you find out.”

  He still looked like he didn’t believe her. “I’ll do that.” He left without giving her a chance to change her mind.

  Seth was on his feet, and Abby appeared on the verge of jumping out of bed. Zoe flashed what she hoped was a comforting smile. “Can I bring you guys anything before I go?”

  Seth closed the space between them and caught Zoe’s arm. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Zoe thought about it. If Seth knew, he’d be better prepared to protect Abby. “Out in the hall,” she whispered.

  “Don’t you dare,” Abby called. “If you try to keep me out of this conversation by going outside, I swear to God, I’ll yank my IV and follow you.”

  Zoe believed her. “Okay.” She moved to Abby’s bedside with Seth on her heels. “I got Franklin Marshall’s toxicology reports back.”

  “That was fast,” Abby said.

  “It pays to have friends in the lab. I also got back the reports on a young woman who died last Monday evening.” Zoe hit the high points of the results. When both young officers appeared confused, she listed the symptoms. “Sound familiar?”

  The pink drained from Abby’s cheeks. “That’s what was going on with me.”

  Zoe let her words sit there.

  “You think I was poisoned. With insulin.”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  Abby lost even more color. “You think whoever did it might try again. That’s why my brother doesn’t want me eating hospital food.”

  “This is where Franklin died.”

  Seth gained the color Abby had lost, his face flushing red. “Someone who works here at the hospital intentionally overdosed him?”

  “We don’t know that. Could’ve been a visitor.” She looked at Abby. “Yesterday, did anyone have a chance to tamper with your food?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think.”

  Abby’s brow furrowed. “I had breakfast at home alone. I stopped at Brunswick Burger for lunch. Do you think it was an employee there?”

  “Maybe. Was there anyone else who had access to your lunch? Did someone stop and chat with you?”

  “There could’ve been a team,” Seth said. “Did anyone ask you for directions or drop a plate or something to distract you while a second person slipped the stuff in your drink? You know…like pickpockets working in pairs.”

  The furrows deepened. “I did run into an old friend from college. But I can promise you she’s not part of a pickpocket team, and she sure wouldn’t slip something in my drink.”

  The feather-soft tickle in Zoe’s brain turned into the beating of vulture wings. “Your drink. The iced tea you brought to my house?”

  “Yes.”

  Seth had his phone out. “What’s your friend’s name?”

  “She wouldn’t—”

  “Give me her name.”

  Zoe didn’t recognize the friend and knew Seth would track her down. Zoe had another phone call she needed to make. “Keep her safe,” she told him.

  His jaw jutted. “You know I will. Where are you going?” he asked as she headed for the door.

  “I’m going to talk to Gina Wagner’s mother,” Zoe said and whisked out of the room. But first she had to reach Pete.

  Twenty-Nine

  Pete pulled on his coat and headed to the front of the station. Nancy looked up from her typing.

  “I’m driving out to Rebecca Weaver’s place,” he told her. “I called her office. They told me she’s working from home today.”

  “She doesn’t live in Vance Township.”

  “Close enough.” The real estate agent owned a lovely home a few miles over the border in Mt. Prospect Township. The drive would give him time to think. “Call if you need me.”

  As if on cue, his cell phone rang. He dug it from his pocket and saw Zoe’s name and photo on his screen. “Hey.”

  “Not a very professional way to answer the police chief’s phone,” she said, but lacked her usual teasing tone.

  “I’ll do better next time. I’m glad you called. I have news you might be interested in.”

  “So do I. I need you to go out to the farm.”

  He would’ve made a wisecrack about her ordering him to run personal errands while he was on duty, but she sounded too tense. “What’s up?”

  “When Abby came to the house yesterday, she had a plastic glass of iced tea with her. In the excitement, I don’t know what happened to it. My mother may have thrown it away. I need you to find it and send the contents to the crime lab.”

  He braced one hand against the counter. “Why?”

  “I suspect Abby was poisoned.”

  “With what?”


  “Insulin.”

  Zoe told him about the toxicology reports on Franklin Marshall and Gina. About the drug found in their stomach contents. About her Spidey sense regarding Abby’s beverage. And about Seth keeping watch over the younger Baronick so she wouldn’t suffer the same fate as Franklin.

  Zoe continued to talk, but few of her words completely sank in. Pete’s brain stalled after the part about insulin poisoning. He turned away from the front door and wandered back toward his office, massaging the throbbing ache building behind his forehead. Her mention of a new will jarred him back to full attention.

  “Wait. What?”

  Zoe’s exasperated sigh whispered across the microwaves or whatever carried the cell signal. “I think Franklin may have written Loretta out of his will and that’s why she’s trashing the funeral home. To find and destroy the document so she’ll still inherit everything. And…” Her voice grew even tighter. “…if she knew about this will, she had motive to want Franklin dead sooner rather than later.”

  It made sense. His health was declining. He was waiting for a transplant that might not come. His possible imminent demise might prompt him to rethink who he wanted to leave his earthly possessions to.

  Loretta had been waiting for him to die so she could collect. Only now, not only might a transplant save him, but he was about to give what she felt was rightfully hers to someone else.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Pete blinked. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “I said, Loretta was dead set against having an autopsy done. Plus, she’s a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company. I’d love to know if it’s the same company that’s testing the new form of insulin. If so, I bet she’d have no problem getting her hands on some samples.”

  “Motive and means.” All that was left was opportunity. “Was she at the hospital the morning he died?”

  The line fell silent as Zoe thought about the question. “She came barreling in afterward. That’s when we got into it over the autopsy. I need to ask around about whether she’d been there earlier.” Another silence. “But why would she poison Gina and Abby?”

  “Good question. And it brings me to the news I have for you.”

  “Oh?”

  He told her about the proximity of Loretta’s and Dustin Landis’ offices.

  Zoe responded with a long pause, and Pete could picture her puzzling out the implications. When she spoke, her voice was hushed, as if her thoughts were drifting directly from her mind, through the phone, into Pete’s ear. “She had access to the dumpster where the gun was found. She’s tall, broad-shouldered. I could imagine her being mistaken for a man if she was dressed in a black hoodie.”

  Exactly what Pete was thinking.

  Zoe continued to muse. “But why kill Elizabeth Landis and frame Dustin? Unless…Could she have been another one of his mistresses?”

  “I was wondering the same thing.”

  “She doesn’t seem like his type. Elizabeth, Gina, and Jenna were all cute girls-next-door. That description does not fit Loretta.”

  Pete thought of the woman he’d been heading out to talk to. “Landis didn’t stick strictly to one type. He also had an affair with Elizabeth’s boss, Rebecca Weaver. She’s tall, dark-haired, legs that go on forever.” He winced. Probably should have left that last part off when speaking with his fiancée.

  If Zoe caught the slip, she gave him a pass. “Someone needs to ask Loretta if she ever slept with Dustin.”

  “I think it might be safer if someone asked Dustin. And by someone, I don’t mean you. In either case.”

  “Why Abby though? And why Gina? What’s Loretta’s connection to them?”

  Pete mulled over the links between the women. Gina had helped bring Landis to justice, but Abby had no ties to the case except for a failed hunch about a homeless John Doe’s involvement. “We’re missing something,” Pete said, more to himself than to Zoe.

  Zoe had to admit Pete was right. They were missing something. Parked in front of Gina’s mother’s house, Zoe contemplated heading right back to the hospital where she expected to find more useful information. But she’d made the trip across town and needed to update Gina’s mom anyway.

  Zoe climbed down from her truck’s cab and approached the front door. It opened before she could knock.

  “Zoe,” Mrs. Wagner said, her voice hollow. She looked twenty years older than one week ago. Had it really been only a week since Zoe had walked into Gina’s bedroom to find her dead in her chair?

  “Mind if I come in for a few minutes?” Zoe asked.

  Mrs. Wagner stepped aside. “Not at all. Is there any news about my daughter?” she asked as she led Zoe into the living room.

  “That’s why I’m here.” She took a seat on an ottoman facing Mrs. Wagner who’d claimed one end of a sofa. “I need to ask…did Gina have any history of diabetes?”

  The question appeared to stun her. “No. I told you. She’s always been very healthy. She’d had her annual wellness exam early in the winter, and her bloodwork came back normal. Why are you asking?”

  Zoe hesitated. How much should she reveal? “Her toxicology results showed she was extremely hypoglycemic.” The truth but not all of it.

  “Oh, dear. What would cause that?”

  “Any number of things,” Zoe said, leaving out the part about having already ruled out most of them. She also left out the part about the insulin. “You wouldn’t happen to be diabetic, would you?”

  “No.”

  “How about anyone else in the house?”

  “No.” Mrs. Wagner shook her head. “Why are you asking about the rest of us? Even I know diabetes isn’t contagious.”

  Zoe gave her a smile. “You’re right. Just covering all bases.” She decided to change directions. “I hadn’t realized Gina had testified against Dustin Landis in his trial.”

  “Yes. And was supposed to testify again in his new trial. She was so upset about the whole thing.” Mrs. Wagner’s eyes widened. “You don’t suppose that had anything to do with her hypoglycemia, do you? Stress?”

  “Stress?” Zoe almost told her no but reconsidered. “Why was she stressed about it?”

  Mrs. Wagner fluttered a hand. “Oh, she hated the idea of having to go through all that publicity again. Having her kids hear what their mother had done all those years ago.”

  “They’re young. I’m sure they wouldn’t have understood.”

  Mrs. Wagner gave a bitter huff. “Instead they have to try to understand why their mom isn’t around anymore.” She grew pensive.

  Zoe sat quietly, waiting for her to continue.

  “I almost feel sorry for Dustin Landis. Gina was one of the few people he had in his corner.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Gina truly believed he was innocent of killing his wife. That doesn’t excuse him from cheating on her and deceiving my daughter. But she was convinced he got a raw deal.”

  “He fooled a lot of women.”

  “It was more than that. Yes, Gina was in love with a man who didn’t deserve it and may have been viewing him through rose-colored glasses when she said he was incapable of murder. But she also claimed he couldn’t handle a gun. Gina liked to target shoot at the sportsmen’s club and took him with her one time. I remember how she laughed because he didn’t have a clue about how to load a pistol. He didn’t know how to take the safety off or how to aim. She said Dustin Landis was the most inept shooter she’d ever seen.”

  “Did she testify to that in court?”

  Mrs. Wagner nodded. “The DA turned it all around. He suggested she was the one who taught him how to handle the gun that he used to kill his wife.” She looked at Zoe, her eyes glistening. “Gina said he only fired a couple of shots and never hit the target even at close range. Then he gave the gun back to her and said he’d had enough. Mr. Fratti
ni may have convinced the jury otherwise, but Gina never believed Dustin was guilty. Never.”

  Kevin agreed to come in early for his shift, freeing Pete to leave the station and his township. His first stop was the farmhouse.

  The plastic to-go cup wasn’t on the counter. He dragged the trash can from under the sink and wiggled his fingers into a fresh pair of Nitrile gloves. He’d gone dumpster diving plenty of times in his career. At least this was his and Zoe’s garbage. No maggots. No dead bodies. Just an empty milk carton, some advertisements from the mail, and a discarded frozen fish box from last night’s supper. Under that, he found what he was looking for. Except the lid had come loose and less than a tablespoon of the caramel-colored liquid remained.

  He lifted the clear plastic glass to eye level. Was there enough to analyze? He could only hope. After replacing the lid and removing the straw, he taped over the crosshatched opening, and sealed the whole thing in an evidence bag.

  With the possible source of Abby’s illness secured in his township SUV, Pete decided to make one quick detour before heading to Brunswick.

  Rebecca Weaver responded to the doorbell before it had completed its chime. “Chief Adams. I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.”

  He entered a two-story-high foyer with a chandelier that looked like modern art hanging high over his head. Rebecca ushered him into a room to the right which held a desk, several chairs, and a full wall of organized shelves. The large window looked out to the driveway in which his vehicle sat. No wonder she’d answered the door so quickly. She’d seen him pull in.

  “You’ve been expecting me?” he said.

  “Yes.” She extended a hand toward one of the chairs. “Please sit down.” Once he had, she lowered into another—not the office chair behind her desk—and crossed those incredible legs. “I’ve been reading about Dustin’s new trial and figured you or one of your colleagues would be paying me a visit.”

  Rebecca Wagner looked much like she had nine years earlier. She now wore her dark hair in a short bob and had developed a few lines around her mouth, but she remained as fit as ever. Good thing she had a firm alibi for the night of Elizabeth’s murder. “Are you willing to testify again?” he asked.