by Diana Saco
The opportunity cheered me. “Yes, sir,” I said, saluting him with a curly fry before popping it in my mouth.
“See you tomorrow,” Chloe said as she started to walk out.
“Um, Chloe, can you hang on a second?” I asked, getting up from my bunk.
She approached me and waited expectantly. I checked over her shoulder and was relieved to see Mason had stepped back to give us some privacy and was now talking to Bruno.
“I just wanted to apologize,” I said softly. “I let my need cloud my judgment. I know what I did was stupid and dangerous. I know it still could have terrible repercussions and for more people than just me. I promise you that I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure the jury finds you innocent.”
Chloe put her hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “No. Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes short of breaking the law. Or your neck,” she added.
“Of course. Scout’s honor. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Okay. And I’m sorry you have to stay here. You know. With them.”
“I’ll take your bunk for extra privacy.”
“Good, because yours has food all over it.”
We both looked at the mess I’d made. “It’ll all be gone soon.”
“Bon appétit,” she said.
“Chloe, would you also check on Minou for me? With Aunt Dottie gone and me stuck here, there’s no one around to feed her.”
“Aunt Dottie will still be there, Nina.”
“But she was mad at me.”
“And she got mad at me lots of times when we lived together. She won’t leave until you’re fixed.”
“Everybody keeps saying that. I’m not broken, you know.”
“We’re all broken in some way, Nina. Just be glad someone cares enough to try to help. Besides, with so many people upset with you, Aunt Dottie is the least of your problems.”
I watched Chloe walk out and sighed. Things were going to be okay between us. When she passed by the neighboring cell, I heard a ruckus and peaked through the bars over the separation wall to see what was going on. It was Marvin.
“I said ‘wait there just a minute!’ How come she gets to leave and we’re still stuck in here?” he demanded.
“Legally speaking, Mr. Munch,” Mason explained, “my client is the only one in here who hasn’t done anything wrong. Judge Ota has reinstated her bail. You and Dr. Moffit, however, are in here on contempt charges. So you did do something wrong. Judge Ota has not changed his mind about that.”
Marvin actually pouted. I grabbed my malted shake and sucked on the straw as I continued watching. This was better than television.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Munch,” Bruno advised, “the judge ordered you be held only until evening. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes to process you out.”
“What about Maxi?”
“That’s up to her. Dr. Moffit, you do understand that, right? Judge Ota said you can go as soon as you agree to unlock your sister’s tablet.”
“I know that,” she said. “And it isn’t going to happen.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll be in here until at least Monday. The judge will ask to see you at the trial.”
“Maxi, just do it. You can’t be stuck in here that long. It’s criminal.”
“No, Marvin, what’s criminal is poring over a dead woman’s personal thoughts on a fishing expedition. I won’t do it. I won’t let them invade Monica’s privacy like that.”
“Well,” Bruno said, “I’ll be back anyway to get you, Mr. Munch. You folks try to enjoy your dinner.”
Marvin put his hand on Maxi’s shoulder and was saying something to her that I couldn’t hear. Just then, I pulled my straw slightly above the shake, which made a loud slurping sound that caught their attention.
“Do you mind?” Maxi said.
I considered arguing quid pro quo, but my burger and fries were getting cold. So I just shrugged and turned back to my dinner.
A short while later, Bruno came back to get Marvin. I had already finished eating and had cleaned up my bunk and moved over to Chloe’s. I was engrossed in an episode of The Closer that I hadn’t seen when Bruno wrapped the bars so I could hear him over my headphones. I pulled them off to see what he wanted.
“You need anything else, Nina?”
“No thanks, Bruno. I’m good.”
“Okay then. The night deputy is Sam Ota, judge’s daughter. Buzz her if you have any problems overnight,” he added, pointing to a button on the wall inside my cell.
“Will do. ‘Night, Bruno.”
I turned back to the screen, struck suddenly by how much Bruno looked like Fritzy. Brenda had done something to upset Fritz and was apologizing to him. I started thinking about all the people I still had to apologize to once I got out of here. At least I could check Chloe off that list. I had apologized, and even though she hadn’t exactly said she forgave me, she seemed less mad with me. I took that as progress. I hoped everyone else would be as willing to move on. I realized there was one other person I could check off my list now, but I doubted Maxi would even want to talk to me. Still, I owed her the attempt.
I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for making a social call on a fellow inmate. “Knock, knock,” I called through the bars. I waited a moment. Just when I thought she hadn’t heard me—or else was going to ignore me—I saw her come around the privacy partition in her cell. She stopped there and folded her arms across her chest.
“Were you addressing me?” she asked.
I frowned in confusion and looked around at the obviously empty area before returning my gaze to her. “Um, yes.”
“What is it?”
“I wanted to speak with you. To apologize,” I added quickly as she started to turn away. She stopped and turned back.
“I don’t much care about your break-in, Ms. Braco.”
I blinked, suddenly realizing I had more to apologize for than I thought. “Actually, I want to say I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. When I told you to ‘go eat rhubarb.’ It was callous and hurtful, and I didn’t mean it anyway.”
I watched her heave a sigh and lower her eyes. She didn’t deny the pain my comment had caused, which meant that I had hit a tender spot.
“What happened to your sister is truly awful,” I said.
“Then why have you sided with Ms. Owens?”
“Because she didn’t do it. And I think you know it.”
“What is it you think I know?”
“I think you knew your sister,” I said carefully.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Monica liked to win. Isn’t that right? Was she always that way? Always so competitive?”
“You say it like it was a bad thing. She set goals for herself. And she worked hard to achieve those goals. People think she was a bit touched in the head just because her obsession was with baking and winning ribbons. But so what? Would any of you be questioning her motives and her resolve if she had been a star athlete or a scholar or a doctor?”
“I don’t question her motives or her resolve. But her methods, yes? Where did she draw the line at winning? Did she even have a line she wouldn’t cross?”
“How dare you! Monica would never intentionally cause another human being physical harm.” She took an angry breath. “We’re done.”
She turned briskly and was back behind the partition before I could blink. I hadn’t meant the conversation to take that turn. Or maybe I had, but I certainly hadn’t intended to be so blunt. Tacky, tacky, tacky, Nina.
I didn’t see any point in trying to talk to Maxi again that night. It had been a long and trying day for everyone. A little rest might make her approachable again. With that, I returned my attention to the display and settled in for a night of binge-watching Deputy Chief Brenda Lee Johnson skillfully pulling confessions out of bad guys in the interview room. Maybe I’d pick up a few tips on how to get Maxi to crack.
*****
I waited until after breakfast the nex
t morning before approaching Maxi again. In my experience, people are always more docile after a good meal. And breakfast had been exceptional. Normally, one wouldn’t use superlatives to describe jailhouse food. However, the sheriff’s office didn’t have a cafeteria. Everything was take-out, and downtown Millsferry had a number of restaurants in the vicinity, all above-average or better. This morning’s fare came from Bert and Ernie’s. The establishment was more of a drinking pub than a restaurant, but to me it always made sense that they would serve up a great breakfast—the best remedy for a hangover. Come to think of it, this is probably why Bruno chose Bert and Ernie’s for breakfast. Spending the night in jail was just like an all-night bender. I popped the last morsel of melon into my mouth and wiped my lips with a napkin, feeling sated and alert and ready for business. I grabbed my coffee and approached the bars overlooking Maxi’s cell.
“Maxi, may I speak with you?”
Silence and then: “I thought I made it clear last night that we have nothing more to say to each other, Ms. Braco.”
“Please, Maxi. I’m just trying to understand your sister better. I don’t think she was a bad person,” I said sincerely. “I’m just asking that you help me understand her motives better. Please, just help me see her through your eyes.”
She came around the partition and again stopped there. She seemed to need that extra distance.
“You’re presumptuous, you know that?” she asked, hands on hip this time.
“Do you mean that I’m incapable of understanding your sister?”
“That and also for addressing me by my first name.”
“Oh! Well, you can call me ‘Nina’ in return,” I said hopefully.
“Ms. Braco, I have no desire to be on such friendly terms with a person helping to defend my sister’s murderer. And that’s the main reason I believe you’re incapable of understanding my sister. You have an agenda.”
“My only agenda is to get at the truth.”
“We’re both intelligent women, Ms. Braco, so let’s not pretend that facts can’t be manipulated. Exactly which version of the truth are you after?”
“The version that helps me understand why your sister died,” I said. “Don’t you want to know that, Maxi?”
“I already know why she died. She was poisoned. And her poor body couldn’t take it because years ago she made the fatal mistake of giving me . . .”
She stopped abruptly, trying to regain control as real tears shimmered in her eyes.
“Of giving me one of her kidneys,” she said.
Suddenly I understood why Maxi was so protective of her sister’s reputation. It was guilt, and not just survivor’s guilt. But guilt guilt. Like the “I did it” kind. She felt responsible. She knew that if her twin hadn’t given her a kidney all those years ago, Monica would be alive right now.
I wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t blame herself, but blurting it out could backfire. It’s a negative framing thing. If Maxi wasn’t already aware she was doing that, it would be worse to bring it up as a possibility, even if only to refute the idea. So how do you convince someone not to blame herself when you can’t even acknowledge that this is what she’s doing?
The silence between us had stretched out far too long. Maxi shrugged her shoulders as if my lack of response meant that I agreed with her statement. I had to say something to gain her trust.
“I wish I’d had a sister,” I finally said, realizing only afterward that I honestly felt that way. “That’s such a special relationship. Having someone to grow up with. To share all your hopes and dreams and fantasies with.”
“And clothes,” Maxi added wistfully. “Don’t forget clothes,” she said with a smile.
I chuckled. “Right! Although I think your styles diverged over the years.”
“That they did, thank goodness. Marv keeps wanting to give me some of Monica’s clothes, and I can’t bring myself to tell him that I think they’re hideous.”
“Did you dress alike when you were little?” I asked.
“Only for the short time it took us to rebel against our mother’s desire to treat us like bookends. Monica, believe it or not, rebelled first. But that’s probably because our mother tended to put us in overalls and jumpers, and Monica liked frilly clothes.”
“You sound like you admired her.”
“I did. We were like two peas in a pod back then. Inseparable.”
“I imagine that—being twins—your bond was even closer.”
“Yes, it was a close bond. We would have done anything for each other, no matter how big the sacrifice.”
“That’s nice. Truly.”
“I suppose we did make sacrifices for each other,” Maxi said, more to herself than to me.
“But I bet you wouldn’t change anything, if you had to do it all over again,” I said.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“I bet Monica wouldn’t have changed anything either. Even knowing it would eventually cost her her own life,” I added delicately.
Maxi furrowed her brows obviously considering the comment. Then she looked at me. She seemed to understand what I was getting at and why. Her eyes softened a bit, but she didn’t say anything.
I saw an opportunity to ask her about unlocking the tablet, but just then, Bruno came charging in with Harry. I was annoyed by the interruption.
“You’re early!” I complained.
As they started unlocking our respective cells, Bruno said, “Marvin is in the hospital.”
“And?” I asked, sounding less compassionate than I intended.
“It isn’t another sneezing fit, Nina. He’s been poisoned.”
11. The Sovereign of Sickly
“Poor Marvin” was a phrase that had accompanied Marvin Munch most of his annoying life. From the moment he took in his first sobbing lungful of air, he was visited with all manner of physical ailments. None were life-threatening, just minor troubles that were, nevertheless, quite uncomfortable. It began with the angry rash he got from the midwife’s latex gloves. His luck got worse during his childhood with a litany of allergies, sinus infections, mumps, lumps, bumps, bruises, scrapes, sprains, and splinters. In his adult life, he was dogged by recurring bouts of psoriasis, hypertension, annual flu infections, chronic upset stomach, and a shingle or two. In short, the poor man had never known a perfectly healthy day in his entire life.
According to Al’s interview notes, Marvin practically blurted his unhappy physical history within the first thirty minutes of their meeting. He was so consumed by his own discomforts, in fact, that Al had to steer the conversation back to his wife’s more terminal state. Therefore, when Bruno showed up outside the cells and announced to both me and Maxi that Marvin was in the hospital again, this didn’t seem like important news. Until, of course, he explained what put him there.
“Oh, no!” Maxi said with a gasp. “Is he going to be all right?”
“Yes, I think so. Judge Ota approved your temporary release since Mr. Munch has no other family here. Harry will take you to the hospital.”
“Would you like to go home first, ma’am?” Harry asked. “For a change of clothes or anything?”
“No, I’ll do that later. I’d like to see Marvin first.”
“Yes, ma’am. This way, please,” Harry said as he escorted Maxi out.
“So why am I being let out early?” I asked Bruno.
“Judge wants both sides to have access to anything that may be relevant to the case. Mason said he needed you.”
“But Judge Ota suspended my license.”
“The judge said anything official needs to be handled by Al. My deputies are at the Munch house now, and Al is headed over there. You’re expected at Mason’s office. Do you need a ride home first?”
“No, I have my car in the courthouse garage.”
“Okay, let’s go process you out so I can give you your keys and phone.”
*****
When I got home, I discovered two things. First, Chloe was right—Aunt Dottie h
adn’t left me. Second, she was still mad.
“You broke in. Mucked things up.”
“Aunt Dottie, please. I was only trying to help Chloe. I’m sorry for everything that happened.”
“You fix it. Chloe can’t jail.”
“I know. I will. I swear,” I said, wondering why I was suddenly talking in iambic meter. “I will fix it. I promise. I’m going to do that now. Without breaking any more laws. Okay?”
“Good. Stop jackassing,” she said, and then turned away.
Again with the jackassing. I rolled my eyes, but I also couldn’t help smiling. I suspected the name-calling meant we were moving toward reconciliation. Three down. Two more to go. I still had to recite my mea-culpas for Mason and Al. The big guy was cayenne-pepper mad, so his was going to have to be a massive take-a-bullet-for-him, promise-him-my-first-born kind of apology.
I showered and changed in record time and hopped back into my car. That put me at Mason’s office a few minutes past twelve. Chloe and Mason were in the big conference room, and Alice was there, too, apparently dropping off some lunch.
“I brought sandwiches, Nina,” she said. “Hope you’re hungry. They’re balsamic roasted portobellos and peppers with provolone and arugula on grilled ciabatta. And I made zucchini muffins for dessert.”
My stomach growled. It had apparently chosen to forget the late breakfast I finished barely an hour ago. What the heck. Anything on grilled ciabatta just happened to be my favorite sandwich. I accepted the plate Alice handed me and sat down so that Mason could bring me up to speed on the latest incident.
“Is there any more word on Marvin?” I began.
Mason leaned in somewhat eagerly, like he was going to share a juicy bit of gossip. “Yes, the doctors think he had a toxic reaction. Marvin told them he’s been feeling sick for months. Whatever the source of the poison, he’s been ingesting it in small amounts over a long period of time.”
“Is it the same thing? Oxalic acid?”
