If the Coffin Fits

by Lillian Bell

  “I wonder how they got rid of the syringes they used on her father,” I said. “Maybe she used the same method to get rid of the syringe she used on Violet.”

  “Makes sense. How are you going to prove that?” he asked.

  I slumped back in my seat. “I’m not sure yet.”

  Rafe drove me to the back door of Turner Family Funeral Home “You’ll let me know the next steps, right?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said, getting out of the car.

  He grabbed my arm. “I know you better than that. You’ll let me know, right?”

  I turned back around. “Yes. I will let you know. Your newspaper will be the one to get the big scoop.”

  He pressed his lips together. “That’s not what I’m most concerned about.”

  I went inside and called hospice. “Hi. My name is Desiree Turner and I’m doing an article on health safety for the Verbena Free Press. I was hoping you could tell me a bit about how hospice handles disposal of things like syringes.”

  “Oh, we don’t dispose of that. The patient’s family takes care of that,” the woman who answered said.

  “How do they do it? What do people do with all those needles? Can they throw them out in the regular trash?” I asked.

  “Of course not! Can you imagine the kind of blood-borne pathogens they could spread around the county?” The woman sounded horrified.

  I couldn’t, but she clearly could. “So what do they do?”

  “Well, for hospice patients, the pharmacy provides them with a sharps container.”

  “What does that look like?” I scratched a note down.

  “Just a plastic bin. It’s usually red. It has a slot on the top where you put the sharps.”

  That was something. “So what do they do once the container’s full? Can they throw that in the trash?”

  “Nope. They have a couple of options. Sometimes doctors’ offices will take them as a consolidation point. Some pharmacies, too. There are some mail back programs. Verbena Home Hazardous Waste has specific hours that people can drop off sharps containers.”

  I chewed my lip. “What do most people do?”

  “The drop off. It’s pretty easy.”

  “So what does Verbena Home Hazardous Waste do with them from there?” Maybe there’d be a chance of finding the syringe.

  “They either go into an incinerator or an autoclave.”

  “How often do they do that?”

  The woman hesitated. “Why don’t you come right out and ask me what you want to know.”

  Okay, then. Straight-shooter it was. “Would it be possible to find somebody’s sharps container and test the syringes in it for DNA?”

  “Why would you want to do that?” she asked.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  She sighed. “It would be like looking for a needle in a needlestack.”

  “But it could be done.” Maybe that was all I needed. Maybe I just needed to create the possibility.

  She was quiet for a moment as she thought. “It could be done. It’d be really time consuming, but the containers are generally marked with the patient’s name when they’re delivered. You’d need some kind of search warrant or court order. Then I have no idea how long it would take to test however many needles might be inside the container. It would be hard, but it could be done.”

  All that mattered for my purposes was that it could be done, that someone would believe that it could be done. “Where can I get a sharps container?”

  “Any pharmacy would sell you one.”

  “Fantastic.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I called Luke. “We need to talk.”

  The sigh that blew down the line sounded like he was in a wind tunnel. “Why?”

  “Because I know who caused Violet Daugherty’s accident. I also know how and when and where and why.” That early journalism training sticks with a person. I had my five W’s.

  “So tell me.”

  “I think we should talk in person. Can you come here?” The Element was still in the garage.

  “Desiree, I’m working.”

  “I’m pretty sure arresting murderers is part of your job.” I considered mentioning that investigating them was also part of his job and that seemed to be falling to me, but I was about to ask a favor of him.

  For a second, it sounded like he was growling. Then he sighed again. “I’ll send Carlotta to pick you up.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I was in Luke’s office laying out my plan for him. He leaned back and put his feet up on his desk. “You want me to do what?”

  I looked at his feet on the desk. I knew that knocking them off wasn’t the way to get what I wanted, but my fingers itched to do it anyway. I tucked my hands under my thighs. “I want you to ask Iris Fiore to come down to the station to sign a complaint against me.”

  “Do you want me to lock you up? Because if you wanted to get kinky with the handcuffs, I can think of a lot of better ways to do that.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

  “I don’t want to get kinky with the handcuffs. I want to catch a murderer.”

  That had him putting his feet on the floor and looking at me with a very serious expression on his face. “I thought you didn’t think Iris killed her father. You said Nate put that all to rest.”

  “I don’t think she killed her father. I think she killed Violet Daugherty.”

  The laugh that exploded from him died in the air. “Wait. You’re serious.”

  “I am. Dead serious.”

  “Explain this all to me.” He took out a pad of paper and a pen. At least he was taking me seriously enough to take notes.

  “Violet Daugherty was Iris and Daisy’s half sister. I don’t know all the details and we might not ever know them, but I saw a picture of someone who looked an awful lot like a young Frank Fiore with Violet’s mother and Violet has the same cleft chin and crooked pinky finger that Frank had. I’m pretty sure a DNA test will prove it. In fact, doing one of those home DNA tests was how Violet found out she had siblings. She saw enough of the profile Rose had on Helix Helpers to figure it out before Rose—or Iris—made the profile private.”

  “Why did Rose have a profile on Helix Helpers?”

  “It was for her science fair project.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  “Violet was a sneaky one. She wouldn’t have come right out and announced who she was and why she’d moved to Verbena. She’d have waited and watched. She would have gathered intel. She’d have done something underhanded. She’d have found a way to make contact with Iris to get her to do what she wanted privately. They knew each other. That’s why Orion didn’t shake Iris’s hand when he met her. He only shakes hands with people the first time he meets them.” He really was the best dog ever.

  “You’re using that poor dog as evidence?” Luke shook his head.

  “It’s just one more thing that added up for me. I mean, let’s not forget the cough drops that Daisy always has on hand and I found a wrapper in the corn maze. She must have dropped it when she shot at me.”

  “Wait. I thought Iris was the murderer. Why do you think Daisy shot at you?” Luke shook his head like a cartoon dog.

  “Because Daisy isn’t a murderer. You were right. She didn’t want to kill me. She wanted to warn me off. She was trying to protect her sister. If Iris had been the one in the maze, I might not be here talking to you.” A sudden chill crept up my spine.

  “But you weren’t even investigating them. Or, at least, you didn’t know you were.”

  “Yeah, but they didn’t know that. Every time Iris turned around, there I was. If she hadn’t accused me of stalking her, I might not have realized how often I was running across her while I was looking at Violet’s life.”

  “Okay. Now how did Iris murder Violet?”

  “She injected Violet in the back with insulin as they left Verbena Fitness on October second. You can call there and talk to Ty. He’s saving the tape for you.”

  “You can see it on
the tape? The whole thing?”

  I needed to be honest here. “No. You can see Iris hugging Violet and you can see that Violet isn’t doing so well afterwards, but you can’t see the syringe.”

  Luke opened a desk drawer and got out a bottle of ibuprofen and took two. “You know, before you moved back, I never needed to keep this stuff around.”

  “Whatever.” I shrugged. “Iris needed Violet to die before Frank did and Frank was hovering at death’s door.”

  “Why did she need that?”

  “She needs Frank’s money to send Rose to college. Even if Rose gets scholarships, she’ll still have to come up with a fair amount of money for some of those places that Rose wants to go. Frank might have been well off when he got sick, but every week that went by, there was less money. By the time Frank died, there must have been a lot less left. Right now, she only has to split the money with Daisy. If she had to split it three ways because Violet suddenly showed up and got in on the inheritance, she’d have a whole lot less. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough.” I thought for a second or two. “Daisy was willing to shoot at me to protect her sister. Maybe she’d also be willing to let her have part of her inheritance.”

  He grabbed my hand before I could retract it. His palm was warm and his fingers were slightly rough. “This is all speculation. There’s no proof here of any wrongdoing. Judges tend to want more than some citizen’s wild speculations.”

  “That’s why I want you to get Iris down here to the station. I want to shake her up a little.”

  “What do you think will happen then?”

  “I think she might do something that will help us prove that she killed Violet Daugherty.” I tried to pull my hand loose, but he held onto it. “You think you could take it from there?”

  His jaw tightened. “Yes. I could.”

  This was going wrong. I was starting to piss him off. Somehow that was always how it was between Luke and me. We antagonized each other. Sometimes deliberately, I’ll admit. But more often, just as a byproduct of whatever else we were trying to achieve.

  I knew what I was trying to achieve here and to achieve it, I needed his help. I took a deep breath and stopped trying to snag my hand back from him. Instead I let my hand relax in his. “Luke, I truly believe that Iris had something to do with Violet’s death. Violet wasn’t a particularly nice person. She didn’t have much empathy for other people’s situations and could be pretty ruthless about going after what she wanted, blackmailing people to do everything from running her errands to covering for her at work. It wasn’t enough, though. It was never enough. She wanted family. She wanted to belong. She found family and they didn’t want her. That must have really stung. She might not have even wanted any of the money. She might have just wanted to have some sisters. We’ll never know that, though. I don’t think anybody will really miss her. Except maybe her dog a little. It still isn’t right, though. Please help me find the truth.”

  He let go of my hand and rubbed at the crease on his forehead with his thumb. “How do you propose we do that?”

  “First, I need you to swear out an official complaint against me for stalking Iris Fiore. Or, at least, I need you to tell her that you have.”

  *

  A few hours later, I sat in an interview room at the police station with Luke.

  He was shaking his head like he had been for the past twenty minutes. “This doesn’t feel right, Desiree.”

  “Does letting someone get away with murder feel right?” I asked.

  He dropped his head. “No. Of course not. Iris seems like a nice lady, though.”

  “A nice lady who killed someone.” I pointed out.

  “Fine. You’ve made your point.”

  Finally, his walkie-talkie beeped. “Iris Fiore here to see you, Butler.”

  “Coming right up,” he said. Then he turned to me. “It’s show time, Death Ray. You ready?”

  I shook my head. He’d never let that old nickname go. “I was born ready.” I picked up the red sharps container I’d bought at the pharmacy and put it on the table.

  A few minutes later, I heard Iris’s voice as Luke walked her toward the interview room next to the one I was in. “I’m glad you’re taking my complaint seriously,” she said. “That woman is harassing me and at such a tough time. I mean, I just lost my father.”

  “I know. Desiree has never known when to leave things be,” Luke said. If he was acting, he was doing a good job of it. He sounded a little too sincere.

  Then they were abreast of the open door to my interview room. “Hi, Iris,” I said.

  She stopped and glared at me. “What is she doing here?”

  Luke stopped and leaned on the door frame. “Funny thing. I brought her down here for you to swear out your complaint and she seemed to have some complaining to do about you.”

  Iris’s hand went to her chest. “Me? What reason could she possibly have to complain about me?”

  I rattled the sharps container. “Does this look familiar?”

  She sighed. “It looks like one of the containers we used to dispose of the syringes we used while I was taking care of my father.” She sounded nonchalant, but I detected a slight clenching of her jaw.

  Luke nodded. “That’s right.”

  “And?” she asked.

  “This is the last one of these you turned into Verbena Hazardous Waste, according to their records.” I rattled it again for emphasis.

  She shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Maybe we should all sit down.” Luke led her into the interview room and pulled out a chair for her across from me. Then he sat down next to me. I could see on Iris’s face that she knew the power balance had shifted. “If we take these syringes out and test each one of them what are we going to find?”

  She leaned toward him, too. “That I used syringes to inject my father with the medications he needed to keep breathing as long as he did and to ease his pain when he was on his way out.”

  “Is that all you did?” I asked.

  “I did not kill my father. I don’t know how you got that crazy notion in your head or what you think you’re going to find in there.” She pointed at the sharps container.

  “What if we’re not looking for information about your dad?” I asked.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then who would you be looking for information about?”

  “Violet Daugherty. Your half sister.”

  Iris’s face went white. “My what?”

  “You heard what I said. Your half sister. The one you had to get rid of before your father died so you wouldn’t have to share your inheritance.”

  Iris sat statue still. Then very slowly, she said, “I want a lawyer.”

  Luke shrugged. “Then go get one. You’re not under arrest. Yet.”

  She pushed her chair back. “You can’t prove any of this.”

  “I think we can. You had to get rid of that syringe somewhere. If I were you, I’d have put it with all the syringes I’d used on my dad. Hiding in plain sight, right?” I said.

  She snorted. “So? How are you going to tell if any of them were used on Violet?”

  “It might take a lot of DNA testing, but I’m betting one of them will have Violet’s DNA on it.” Luke smiled at her.

  Her face went from white to purple in two seconds. “DNA. DNA. DNA. Everything is all about the DNA. Let me tell you something, mister! DNA doesn’t make you a daughter. Getting up at two in the morning when he’s in pain makes you a daughter. Slitting his shirts up the back so he doesn’t get bedsores makes you a daughter. Clipping his toenails, managing his medications, wiping his chin when he drools. Those things make you a daughter. A piece of paper from some fly-by-night DNA testing center? That’s bull.”

  “So you did know,” Luke said.

  “So what if I did? She had a lot of nerve showing up on our doorstep when Dad was so ill, saying she didn’t want money. She just wanted to know her family. Like hell she did. I could see it in her greedy little eyes. She w
as going to take what little was left and Rose would be stuck here like I’m stuck here. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

  Luke stood up. “Iris Fiore, you are under arrest for the murder of Violet Daugherty.”

  *

  We were back at Tappiano’s. Jasmine, Carlotta, Nate, Rafe, Orion, and me. Nate and Rafe fist-bumped as they sat down. Which was weird. Usually there was a lot of tension between those two. Now they looked like BFFs.

  Luke walked out of the bar, beer in hand, and sat down next to me. “Celebrating?”

  “What would we be celebrating?” I asked, batting my eyes. I wanted him to say it.

  He ducked his head. “You were right.”

  “Again,” I pointed out. “I was right again.”

  “And you’re being as gracious about it as ever.” He raised his beer bottle to me in a toast.

  I didn’t want to be gracious. I wanted some help. “I was right about Alan Brewer. I was right about Violet Daugherty. Do you think, just maybe, I might be right about my dad?”

  The whole group went silent. Luke groaned. “Not this again. Please, Desiree. Drop it. Let yourself heal.”

  It’s what I’d thought he would say. I was disappointed, but not surprised.

  “Besides, I don’t think we can keep up protecting you if you piss somebody else off enough to make them shoot at you,” Nate said.

  “Keep up what?” I asked.

  Rafe rolled his eyes. “You are not good at that this secret thing, my friend.”

  “What secret?” I asked.

  None of them said anything. In fact, none of them would meet my eye or look at each other. Then it all started to piece together. After I was shot at, I was never alone outside. One of them had always been with me. “You guys were working together?”