“What was it my mother wanted to talk to you about?” she asked, finally looking at me again, the confusion still etched all over her face. Whatever Lorena wanted to talk about, even her daughter had no clue.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t say over the phone, but she said it was urgent.”
“Do you think it had to do with you being a PI?”
“Maybe. Do you think so?” I asked, hoping she might have some insight. Perhaps her mother mentioned something, however incongruous, that she could relate to me now.
Marnie shrugged and reached for the plastic bottle on the coffee table between us. She unscrewed the cap, took a long draw, and screwed it back on again, making sure to place the bottle on a coaster. I wondered if it was a habit Lorena instilled in her daughter, and if Marnie was struggling to make sense of things by sticking to habits and rituals if only to keep some sense of order in her shattered world. “I’m not sure. I think so. Something was bothering her for a while. Whenever I asked her what was wrong, she just shut me down. She wouldn’t talk about it. Told me to concentrate on college and that she would look after herself. Maybe she wanted your opinion.”
I nodded in agreement. That was plausible; even more so, given what I knew about Jim Schwarz and Karen Doyle. They had troubles too. There was only one way to find out. “Do you recall your mom ever mentioning a Jim Schwarz or Karen Doyle?”
“Oh, sure. From her old job at Simonstech. I think she still saw them from time to time. Karen was the one who recommended Fairmount Gym to my mom. Why?”
“They both died recently.”
Marnie’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. “Oh my gosh. Really?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“No,” she replied, sounding flustered, “but I only just got home and all I could think about is my mother. I’m sure my mother would have mentioned something like that… Wait, they both passed recently?”
“Yes,” I said simply, not wanting to tell her just how recently.
“Oh, that’s awful. I don’t know why you brought them up though. Does their passing have something to do with my mom?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m interested to see if there’s a connection with each other. Are you okay?” I asked, noticing Marnie leaning against the couch cushions, one hand rising to her heart. She coughed and blinked, then nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little under the weather, I guess. What were you saying?”
“Just that I was interested in Jim and Karen’s connection to your mom.”
“All I can tell you is, they all got on well as far as I knew, but after Mom left Simonstech, they didn’t see each other so much. It was right around the time that other lady disappeared. April? No, Avril. My mom was really upset about that.”
“Avril Sosa?”
“Yes, I think that was her name. I remember it was in the paper and I asked Mom about it, but she told me never to mention Avril’s name again, and to forget I saw the article. Don’t you think that was odd?”
I agreed it was and asked if Lorena said anything about Avril recently, but Marnie answered no. She was about to say something else when she leaned forwards and grabbed the bottle, her hands shaking as she all but wrenched the cap off. She glugged a few mouthfuls, her hand still trembling when she returned it to the coffee table, almost missing it altogether. She blinked rapidly and coughed again. Her skin suddenly took on the oddest pallor.
“Are you okay?” I reached forward and touched her hand when she didn’t respond. “Marnie?”
“I… I…” she choked. “Lexi, I…”
“Maybe this has been too much,” I suggested. “We can talk again another time. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s… I… oh, God, I think I’m gonna…” Marnie pushed against the sofa with her hands and wobbled to her feet, stumbling forwards. I leapt up and caught her as she stumbled again, her knees banging into the corner as she tried to avoid the table.
“You really don’t look well,” I said, but I don’t think she heard me. Her eyes were glassy and she’d paled considerably.
“Help… me…” Marnie whimpered. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her knees collapsed, and she sank to the floor, taking me with her as I held onto her arms. I called her name a few times, but she didn’t respond, so I wriggled out from where she’d fallen on me, and put her on her side, trying to remember my first aid training. Her airways were clear, and there was nothing to hurt herself on, so I stroked her hair and talked to her for a few moments, but she didn’t come around.
The longer the seconds ticked by, the more concerned I became that Marnie hadn’t simply fainted. When I saw the trickle of blood sliding over her lip, I was sure all was not well.
I dialed 911 and called an ambulance, telling them I had a suspected poisoning, and waited in terror for the EMTs to come.
~
“How is she?” I asked when the doctor, a short, black woman bearing a badge that read, Dr. Marcus, approached. Marnie Vasquez was treated quickly and efficiently in the ER before being transferred to the third floor to be observed on a twenty-four watch. Her stomach was pumped and I nearly threw up when I saw them inserting the tube. I figured Marnie was very sore, but oh so very lucky to be alive. It was a thought Solomon shared the moment he joined me, arriving just as the ER doctors finished working on her. We’d been waiting an hour to speak to someone, and my heart was beating a fast rhythm.
“She’s going to recover,” Dr. Marcus told me. “Your friend is very fortunate.”
“What happened? One minute, she seemed fine. The next, she collapsed.”
“We’ve taken blood for tests, but my theory is that she was poisoned.”
A cold wave ricocheted through me. I didn’t want my assumption to be true, but there it was in plain language, from a medical professional. That worried me.
The doctor nodded, a simple confirmation of my fear. “From the way the poison acted, I think she probably ingested it. Was she upset about anything? Could she have taken something deliberately?”
“No. Absolutely not.” I shook my head, and then again, when Solomon gave me a pointed look. “She was upset that her mother died recently, but she showed no intention of taking her own life. She wouldn’t have invited me over if she planned on doing that.”
“If it was accidental, your being there probably saved her. If you didn’t get her to the hospital when you did, the outcome wouldn’t have been positive. Do you know what she ingested? Could she have mixed products up accidentally?” Dr. Marcus continued, scrutinizing me as she did so.
“I don’t think so,” I said decisively. I might not have known Marnie long, but she didn’t give me any indication that she might hurt herself. She wanted answers. “She’s a smart girl. She wouldn’t have pulled the bleach out from under the sink and drunk it, thinking it was juice, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Solomon took my hand and I gently squeezed his fingers. I suspected he was telling me to cool it, so I did, though my breaths came in short, sharp rasps. I was angry, not at the doctor, but at whoever would have tried to hurt Marnie. I was also grateful for the sheer luck that I was there and managed to prevent her possible demise.
“No, of course not,” the doctor conceded. “Plus, whatever it was, it wasn’t bleach.”
“We’d like you to send a blood sample to MPD,” Solomon said, taking over. “And you should call Detective Maddox. He should be informed of this.”
“I already logged a call with the police and took a sample,” Dr. Marcus told us, which surprised me. It shouldn’t have, and when I thought about it, I was glad that the doctor had the foresight to take a blood sample.
I tried to recall earlier that evening. Marnie offered me a drink, but I declined. There was a half full bottle of coconut water on the coffee table, which she kept sipping from throughout our meeting. “She was drinking coconut water right before it happened,” I told them. “She said her mother drank them after running, and there was a shelf full o
f them in the refrigerator.”
“I doubt a health drink would have caused this,” said the doctor. “If you find anything, let me know. We’ve called her uncle and he’ll be in to sit with her soon. There’s nothing more you can do now.”
“Poisoned,” I said to Solomon as we watched the doctor walk away. “Why would anyone want to poison Marnie Vasquez? If the Simonstech connection is the common factor with our victims, Marnie doesn't fit.”
“Maybe it was an accident.” Solomon took my elbow and guided me over to the windows, away from listening ears. Not that I could actually see any, but he was taller than I, and could easily see over partitions. Besides, he hadn’t just saved someone’s life, so he wasn’t feeling antsy, and I figured it was better if we erred on the side of caution. We leaned there with our backs to the outside world and our butts perched on the sill. From here, I could see through the observation window. Marnie was lying in her hospital bed, the covers pulled up to her waist. She looked pale and sickly in her hospital issue gown. An IV tube led from her wrist to a bag on a pole next to her, and she seemed to be sleeping. “We know that Schwarz's killer knew his routine. The killer could have known Lorena's too, and exactly what she would consume every day like the coconut water after her run. Maybe the poison was intended for Lorena, and when she didn’t die fast enough, the killer changed his plan,” Solomon said.
I looked at Marnie as I answered him with a weak, “Really?”
“I think we need to take a closer look at that coconut water.”
“Shouldn’t we stay? What if Marnie is still in danger?”
“I think she’s collateral damage, but if it makes you feel better, we can wait until the uncle gets here.” Solomon nudged me and inclined his head towards the dark-haired man approaching us. “Coincidentally, I think that might be him. Let’s go.”
We took a few minutes to talk to Marnie’s uncle, Marco, before we left. The doctor had already filled him in on his niece’s condition, but again, I gave my account. I assured him that I was positive Marnie didn’t do this deliberately, and at the end, he hugged me and thanked me for saving his niece. He also expressed his concern for my own health, after being the one who discovered his sister, which I thought was extremely kind of him, considering his own loss. When I asked him who he thought could harm his sister, he shook his head sadly. I tried asking him about Simonstech too, but all he could tell me was that his sister told him she was scared of something. He was pleased, he said, to have her work with him and she seemed much happier.
“Can you find out who tried to hurt my niece?” he wanted to know, after telling me that his sister had mentioned my name a couple of times. He reached into his back pocket, coming up with a leather wallet. “I can pay.”
“We’re already on the case,” said Solomon, waving away the bills the man extracted. “No charge, but it would be helpful if we got your permission to look around your sister’s house.”
“Do whatever you need to do,” Marco readily consented, producing a key from his jacket pocket and pressing it into Solomon’s palm. “I heard my sister called you the day she was killed. Do you know what was worrying her?”
“I wish I knew,” I said. “I’m still trying to find out.”
“Now I think about it, I’ll bet everything I own that it has something to do with that creep at Simonstech,” he said, shaking our hands. “You should try asking them why he scared the shit out of my sister so badly, she had to leave her job.” He pushed through the door and was gone. Picking up his niece’s hand, he mashed his lips together, looking like he was about to cry. I turned away, loath to observe his grief.
Solomon and I looked at each other. “All the roads keep leading back to Simonstech,” I said.
“Too bad Carter Simons Junior has alibis for the murders.”
“How do you know that?”
“It came up at my meeting with your brother and your ex.”
“You could just call them Lieutenant Graves and your former colleague, Maddox.”
“Works either way.” Solomon was silent as we walked out to his car and didn’t speak again until we were on the road. “I want you to stay away from that Simons guy,” he said. “His name keeps coming up and I don’t like it. I have a bad feeling.”
“Is this a bad time to confess Lily and I went by his house?”
Solomon slammed on the brakes and we lurched to a stop. “You. Did. What?” he asked, very slowly.
“It was just a short visit, and I didn’t even go inside!”
“Lexi!” Solomon slammed his hands on the steering wheel and looked dead ahead. Someone behind us honked and Solomon seemed ready to explode. After what felt like forever, and three more impatient honks, he shifted into drive and we took off. “What happened?”
“Nothing much. We overheard a conversation.”
“About?”
“Junior and his wife were talking about a ring. A new one she had made, but it wasn’t right or something.”
“Were you seen?”
I gulped.
“Lexi?”
“Yes.”
“When was this?”
“Right before someone broke into my house,” I said softly, trying not to cringe at how bad that sounded. I darted a glance at Solomon. Yup, he looked thrilled. Really delighted. Perhaps I wouldn't mention the complaint. It would only make things worse.
“Lexi!”
“There’s nothing that ties Junior directly to any of the murders, and you already said he had an alibi… What exactly were his alibis?”
“At Lorena Vasquez’s murder, he was having brunch with his father across town. Simons Senior confirmed it. He has alibis for Jim Schwarz and Karen Doyle too. Both times, he was in meetings with ten other people to vouch for him.”
“Damn.” I let that sink in before I said, “So far, we only know Junior knew the victims when they were alive, but there’s been nothing to suggest he’s seen them since. I mean, yeah, he knew all three of our victims, and he knew Avril Sosa, but there’s no evidence to link him to any of them. Maybe our hunch that he is hiding something was wrong,” I concluded, trailing off. It was a major disappointment. More so, that I suddenly seemed to be defending my number one suspect.
“Evidence can be wrong.”
“Don’t let the writers from CSI hear you say that!”
“Okay.” Solomon smiled. “Let me rephrase it. Sometimes, when we don’t have all the evidence, the evidence we do have tells us a different story from the real one.”
“So we need to find more?”
“You got it.”
“Let’s go.”
“Not you, Lexi.”
“But…”
“No arguments. You can help at the Vasquez house, but I want you to stay the hell away from the Simons and anywhere they might be or go. I do not want you pissing them off, and I don’t want you getting hurt. Besides, I told you to take a few days off. Work your pro-bono case. You cannot get into any danger with that.”
I tried to argue, but Solomon refused to debate my insistence that I had to see this through. The more annoyed I got, the less coherent I became, so eventually, I gave up, deciding to work on him again when he calmed down. I hoped some new evidence would be exactly the sort of thing he needed to make him realize that taking me off the case was a bad idea.
More evidence is exactly what we found at the Vasquez house. I pointed to the coffee table where Marnie dropped her bottle. Solomon pulled on gloves before picking it up, while I took a deep breath and went into the kitchen. I tried not to look at the faint stain on the kitchen floor, and had to pinch my nose from the lingering scent of bleach. Instead, I went directly to the refrigerator. “There’re seventeen unopened bottles of coconut water here,” I called out to the living room. “A half full carton of orange juice. The fridge looks like it was cleaned out.”
“Check the trash,” called Solomon.
I did. It was empty except for one bottle, identical to the one Marnie was drinking. �
�I see one bottle.”
“Don’t touch,” said Solomon.
“I wasn’t planning on touching it,” I said, still annoyed, and now sniffy at his assumption I would make a rookie move like that. As he walked through, his hands gloved, he set the bottle he was examining on the countertop and reached inside the trashcan. He extracted the empty bottle, turning it this way and that until he nodded and beckoned me closer.
“See this?” he said, pointing to the neck.
I peered at it. “Nope.”
“Closer.”
“Okay, but still no. I see nothing. What am I supposed to see?”
“There’s a tiny pinprick hole just here, in the neck of the bottle. It’s barely visible, thanks to the short, fat neck. I think poison was injected into this bottle, just under the cap rim, and the same as that one. Someone planned to make Lorena Vasquez very, very sick. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was enough poison to kill her slowly over time.”
“That’s treacherous!” I bent at the waist, my hands on my knees as I stared at the first bottle. Sure enough, there was an identical pinprick in the neck, again, barely visible. “But Lorena wasn’t drinking the water. She sprained her ankle and hadn’t been running, and I know she only drank this stuff immediately after exercise; otherwise, she said it was too calorific.”
“So she didn’t die as expected,” surmised Solomon. “This stuff just sat there.”
Thinking of how calculated her death was made me sick. Not to mention, imagining how someone planned to kill Lorena slowly. “The killer couldn’t wait. That bastard! She was healthy and wanted to talk to me and he came here to speed up her death. We need to get all the bottles to the lab and have them analyzed. Maybe the killer left a fingerprint.”
Weapons of Mass Distraction Page 23
