Diagnosis: Death (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 2)

by A. P. Eisen

  Paul flipped his pad. “No, and as a matter of fact, we’ve really yet to question her.” He met Rob’s eyes. “Shall we pay her a visit? You know housekeepers always see more than anyone. Remember the Landry case?”

  Patrick Landry had been one of their first cases together. His wife had been found murdered, and he’d organized the search for her and played the grieving husband, claiming they had the perfect marriage. The housekeeper told them otherwise and testified that the Landrys had screaming fights where Patrick threatened to kill his wife if she ever left him. She also overheard conversations between Landry and someone the housekeeper claimed he’d hired to kill his wife. Both Landry and the hit man were arrested and made full confessions.

  “Yeah, poor woman. I’ll never understand obsession. Why would you want someone who doesn’t want you anymore?”

  “That’s for the psychiatrists to figure out. Let’s get going, see if we can catch Josie and hear what she has to say.”

  The now-familiar drive took less than twenty minutes, and Paul once again marveled at the tranquil surroundings as they passed the mansions set back from the winding road. Lawn mowers buzzed faintly in the distance, and when they parked in the circular driveway of the Ulriches’ house, the smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the fragrant roses.

  “Every time I come here I think of selling my place and buying a house.” He slammed the car door, and Rob took off his sunglasses.

  “What about Cliff’s house? Do you two ever think of moving in together?”

  Paul rubbed the nape of his neck. “Not that we’ve ever discussed.”

  “But you’ve thought about it?”

  They approached the front door. “It’s crossed my mind.”

  “Then I’m sure it’s crossed his as well. Not getting any younger, Paulie.”

  “Ring the bell.”

  Rob cackled and hit the button on the brass plate, and the soft sound of chimes reached their ears. The door opened, and the housekeeper’s unsmiling face greeted them.

  “I’m sorry. Mrs. Ulrich isn’t at home.”

  “That’s okay, Josie. We came to talk to you.”

  “I’m very busy.” She started to close the door, but Rob put his hand on the knob.

  “Oh, this won’t take more than five or ten minutes. Promise.” He gave her his most winning smile, and Paul ducked his head. Rob was a great bullshitter.

  “Well, okay.” She pulled the door open to allow them to enter, and they walked behind her as she led them to the sun-room. “Mrs. Ulrich and Chase went to church to talk to the minister about the service for Dr. Ulrich.”

  It always amazed Paul that people who were so reluctant to talk to them offered up information so casually.

  “Oh,” Rob said as they passed by the newly decorated rooms. The smell of fresh paint and varnish teased Paul’s nose. “Chase isn’t back at school yet?”

  “No, he’s taking a term off. Mrs. Ulrich thought it best to keep him close to home this semester.”

  They sat down on the couch, and Josie took the wooden chair, her work-worn hands clasped in front of her.

  “You’ve been close to the Ulriches for a very long time now, haven’t you, Josie?” Rob tried the friendly approach.

  “Well, like I said, I was with Mrs. Ulrich’s family before she married. When she married, I came with her.”

  “Right. And how has it been working for them?” While Rob did the questioning, Paul observed her.

  “I love it. Mrs. Ulrich is a wonderful woman. I couldn’t ask for a better employer. She’s a considerate and caring person.”

  “And Dr. Ulrich? How was he? If it isn’t too hard to answer.”

  Paul noticed her fingers tightening in her lap.

  “He wasn’t around much. He was very busy.”

  “Of course. But when he was here, did he treat you fairly?”

  “Yes, but Dr. Ulrich and I didn’t speak much except when he needed something.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and he and Rob shared a quick glance.

  “What was his relationship with his son like?”

  “I’m not sure I should be answering these questions…” Her gaze dropped to her lap.

  “Do you want an attorney? We’ll stop if you do, and you can arrange a time to come down to the precinct.”

  Her eyes flashed to his. “I—no. I’m okay. Dr. Ulrich and Chase didn’t really get along. He didn’t understand Chase.”

  “Understand him?”

  “Chase has always been a very emotional boy. Dr. Ulrich didn’t know how to deal with Chase and thought punishment and harsh words were the way to handle him because that’s how he grew up. Mrs. Ulrich knew that the way to handle Chase was by listening and understanding his feelings. He’s very sensitive.”

  Paul’s inner eyes rolled so hard, his brain hurt. Sensitive, my ass.

  “I see. So he and his father would clash a lot?”

  “On occasion.”

  Frustrated with her reluctance to give them information, Paul decided to go all in, balls to the wall. “You knew of the arrangement Mr. and Mrs. Ulrich had with Jerry Gregoria, the man who was murdered about three months ago?”

  A look of disgust flashed in her eyes. “I was aware.”

  “How did Mrs. Ulrich feel about it? If you know.”

  Her eyes met his, snapping fire, and her cheeks flushed a deep red. “How do you think she felt? A husband sleeping with another man, and then inviting him to their bed? She was so upset but didn’t know what to do about it.”

  He scribbled as fast as he could, making sure he’d be able to read his notes later. “So she talked to you?”

  “Yes, she did. I’ve known her almost all her life. Mrs. Ulrich is such a classy, elegant woman, and to know she was forced to do that to keep her husband? No man is worth that.”

  “Is that what you told her?”

  “She asked me what I thought—‘Josie, what should I do?’ she said. I told her to leave him. She didn’t need his money. She had more than enough of her own. The Hawthornes are an old family in Thornwood. But she loved him.” Disgust dripped from her voice. “Even though she knew he…” She swallowed and pursed her lips.

  “Have you ever been married, Josie?” Paul asked, already knowing the answer.

  “No.”

  “You’ve dedicated your life to the Ulrich family, then. That’s not something you see often.”

  “Mrs. Ulrich needs me. I could never leave her.”

  Leaving that vein of questioning, Paul changed tactic. “On the morning of Dr. Ulrich’s murder, can you tell us what you know about everyone’s movements?”

  “Yes. I was up at my usual five a.m. I prepared the menus for the week ahead and made breakfast for Dr. Ulrich.”

  “I see.” Paul carefully noted her words. “Please continue.”

  “Dr. Ulrich left around six thirty, and I left at the same time to do the weekly shopping at the market. I came back around eight, and Mrs. Ulrich and Chase were already at breakfast.”

  He flipped through his notes before asking another question. “Where did you go shopping? We need all the information for our records, you understand.”

  “I go to Ever Green Market on Rosewood Avenue.”

  Rob piped in. “My wife loves that store. Says everything is always fresh.”

  Paul cleared his throat. “Okay. So you don’t know exactly when either of them came down.”

  For the first time, she looked disconcerted. “N-no. But Chase wasn’t dressed, and neither was Mrs. Ulrich.”

  “What was Chase wearing, if you remember?”

  “A pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He hadn’t been sleeping well and couldn’t eat a thing. I told him I’d make him something special and he should go upstairs and lie down.”

  “Was he wearing any footwear?” Paul stood up and stretched, then walked around the room. “Sorry, I got a cramp in my leg.”

  “Excuse me? Footwear?” She bit her lip. “No, he was barefoot.”
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br />   “Very good.” He stopped in front of the mantle. “Did Mrs. Ulrich ever find that missing candlestick?”

  “Missing candlestick?” Her brow furrowed. “Oh, um, no.”

  “Do you know if she made a claim to the insurance company?” Paul picked up the candlestick and hefted it, testing its weight. The base was round and covered in dark purple felt. “Are they valuable? Sterling or silver-plated?”

  “Sterling.” She seemed affronted he even asked the question.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Catherine Ulrich stood in the doorway. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore a black dress, with those glittering diamonds around her neck.

  “Hello, Mrs. Ulrich.” Rob stood and gave her a winning smile.

  Ignoring him, she stormed into the room. “I’ve told you that Chase isn’t going to speak to you without an attorney.”

  “We’re not here to talk to Chase. We came to talk to Josie.”

  Astonished didn’t describe her expression. “Josie? What could you want to talk to her for?”

  Sidestepping her question, Paul asked, “Have you managed to secure a time for us to talk to your son?”

  Her gaze shifted from him to Rob, then to Josie, then back to him. “Y-yes. Our attorney will bring Chase to the police station tomorrow at ten a.m.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Ulrich.” He and Rob left Josie sitting in her seat while they walked out of the room, Mrs. Ulrich at their heels.

  “Wait a moment. What do you want with Josie? She knows nothing.”

  “Just tying up some loose ends,” he said with a smile. “By the way, did you ever get your tea?”

  “My tea?” She gazed up at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What’re you talking about?”

  “The day we informed you of your husband’s death, Josie stated she didn’t have your tea, that she hadn’t gone to the market.”

  “Oh, well, whatever, yes. I’d had a bit of a cold and used it all up. When she went to the market, she picked more up. Detectives, I hardly understand how this has any bearing on my husband’s murder.”

  “Every little detail matters. When is her usual day to go to the market?”

  “Oh, she always goes on Friday. That way we have everything we need for the weekend.”

  “Not Saturday?”

  “Saturday?” She wrinkled her nose. “No, never. She gets the weekends off. Technically, of course, because she insists on helping no matter what, but the shopping is always done on Friday.”

  “Would she make breakfast for you on the weekends?”

  “Occasionally, but I’ve scolded her about it and told her not to. She works too hard, and there’s such a thing as being too devoted.”

  He jotted down everything she said. “Thank you, Mrs. Ulrich. We’ll see Chase tomorrow, then, at the station at ten a.m. Have a good evening.”

  She let them out, and he waited until they were in the car before speaking. Once again that familiar feeling raced through him, when he knew he was close.

  “You’re on to something. And I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Tell me, so I don’t think I’m nuts.” Paul chewed the inside of his cheek.

  “It’s two things. Either the maid is covering up for Chase, or she did it herself.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Why? Why kill her employer?”

  “Oh, she didn’t think of herself as working for Dr. Dean Ulrich. She’s totally devoted to Catherine Ulrich. To the point where she might be in love with her.”

  “Sexually?”

  Paul shrugged. “I don’t know. But she’s obsessed with her. All the signs are there.”

  Now he just had to figure out if those signs pointed in the direction of Josie being the killer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Cliff stood on the front porch of his parents’ house, hesitating before knocking on the door. He hadn’t called this time, partly because he was afraid his father would tell him not to come over. He picked up the brass ring and let it fall.

  The door opened. His father didn’t seem surprised to see him.

  “Cliff. Come on in.”

  They’ve never been a demonstrative family, so hugging his father would’ve been odd, but Cliff wouldn’t have minded a smile. Instead, he waited in the entryway, searching his father’s face for any expression, either positive or negative.

  “How’s Mom?”

  “She’s had a little episode of nausea, but nothing compared to what she went through initially with the other two cycles.”

  “So what they did for her in the hospital worked.”

  “Yeah. Take off your jacket and come inside. She’s sitting in the living room.”

  He hung his suit jacket over the newel post on the banister and trailed behind his father. His mother was in the recliner with a blanket around her, and when she saw him, a huge smile broke out across her face.

  “Cliff, I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Well, here I am.”

  Her smile grew puzzled. “But something’s wrong. Tell me.”

  “How are you doing? Dad said the nausea is better?”

  “Much. But I want to know about you.”

  From his peripheral vision, he watched his father’s face harden, but he needed to do this. He had to do this for himself. He’d lived a thousand lives since their final break, and he wasn’t the same person as when he’d left at twenty.

  “First I want to say I’m really happy you reached out and wanted to talk.”

  “But you have something else to say.” Her eyes searched his, and in their depths he saw a combination of fear and regret.

  “I don’t want to upset you while you’re going through treatment, but I don’t think I can keep this inside me any longer.”

  “Then don’t. We’re your parents, and we’ve done a lousy job of it.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” his father asked. “I don’t want you to get upset.”

  “Why should talking to my son upset me?”

  Cliff blew out a breath. “Because I’m not so sure I can just walk in here and forgive the past so easily. I want to, don’t misunderstand me. And I thought I could. That it would be easy. But it wasn’t. It’s damn hard for me to simply wipe away the past like a dry-erase board, like it never happened and you get to start over again without a trace of what it did to me. For you, it’s no big deal. You say you’re sorry, and I say it’s okay, and you continue to live your life.”

  “It’s not as simple for you.”

  “How can it be? You kicked me out and cut me off because you disapproved of who I am. How did it all change? Do you know what I went through when I left? There were nights I thought it would be easier to go to sleep and not wake up.”

  “Cliff—”

  “Please, Mom. Let me just say it before I can’t.”

  “Okay.” She laced her fingers together in her lap, on top of her e-reader. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “I didn’t have those thoughts too often, and it got better once I found a job. I worked hard as hell and made a life for myself without you. But it hurt not to have my own family to go to for the holidays. You know nothing about me anymore. I’m a stranger, family by name and blood only.”

  “But we want to get to know you.”

  “Why? Because you found out you were sick and were afraid? Or because you’re willing to accept you have a gay son? I’m dating someone now, and it’s serious.”

  “That detective, we know.”

  “How comfortable are you going to be having us to the house? Or seeing us together?” He watched the exchange of glances between his parents. “I feel like we said all the right words, but we’re tiptoeing around the reality. All I want to know is, are you going to respect me and my life?”

  If they said no, he’d pick himself up at his own behest and walk out of their lives. He didn’t need to beg to be loved. Memories of his childhood awaited in every corner: The smell of his mother’s fresh-baked
cookies when he’d come home from school. The science projects his father would help him with. The tire swing on the tree in the back, now long gone, but he could hear his screams of laughter as his father would push him. “Higher, Daddy, higher.”

  He pinched the corners of his eyes between his thumb and forefinger to stop the burning.

  “We never looked at it from your point of view. I know I didn’t think past giving you a hug. But you’re saying that’s not enough, that we have to change everything we’d been brought up believing, and that’s not going to be easy.”

  It wasn’t going to happen. The crushing thought that he wasn’t worth it to them and they’d rather sit with their prejudice than try and reach across the divide between them hurt him as badly as if they’d told him to leave once again.

  His mother wasn’t finished. “But nothing worth having in life comes easy, does it? And parents can be wrong. And by that I mean not only your father and me, but my parents and your father’s as well. We’ll make mistakes because we’re still learning, but if you promise not to get angry if we say something stupid and help us instead, then I want to try.”

  His father had yet to speak, and Cliff wouldn’t make any decisions until he did.

  “Dad?”

  Never a man of many words, his father seemed even less capable of speech at that point. Cliff waited, not willing to give up. Not yet.

  “I see pictures of those parades and half-naked people running around in makeup, and I can’t lie that it makes me cringe. I thought all gay men were like that.”

  “Stereotypes of any kind are a very narrow way of thinking. People are different whether they’re gay or straight, black or white, Christian or not. You can’t lump us all into one big category.” Were they only willing to accept him because he wore the suit and tie and blended in so well with everyone else?

  “Yeah.” He rose from his chair and crossed the room to pick up Cliff’s baby picture from the fireplace mantle. “When you were born, I had dreams of you playing in the World Series.”

  “I couldn’t hit a ball to save my life, but that had nothing to do with being gay and everything to do with the fact that I have no hand-eye coordination.”