“Peter, what’s happening?” Maggie asked plaintively with panic in her eyes. Everything they had told her about being poisoned was so confusing. She didn’t understand. And Michael was nowhere to be found. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she’d seen or heard from him. And no one had given her the newspaper that morning, so she had no idea. Peter was relieved they hadn’t. He was very much afraid that her reaction would be as vehement as Lisa’s the night before.
Peter sat down in the chair the nurse had vacated next to Maggie, trying to decide where to begin. For the second time in two days, he knew he was going to break someone’s heart, and tear their life apart. And he knew just from looking at Maggie in her weakened condition that it was too soon to tell her about Michael. She wasn’t strong enough to hear it yet. One thing at a time.
“They found poison in your system, Maggie,” he said with a look of sorrow in his eyes as he started. “They’re doing everything they can to counter its effects.” The doctors had told her that the night before, so it wasn’t a surprise, although she didn’t fully understand it. No one did just yet. “They don’t know how long it’s been there, or how it got there. Most likely, it was put in your food,” he said solemnly. The doctor from poison control had explained to him that she had probably been given a drop or two regularly on an ongoing basis. More than that would have killed her immediately or within days. As Peter watched her, he saw that her hands were no longer shaking, and he realized that the symptoms of Parkinson’s were less obvious now as she was slowly recovering from the poison.
And one thing was sure, this was no accident. Everyone agreed. Tests were being run now to see if she really had Parkinson’s disease. The toxicologist felt it more likely that the symptoms had been caused by the poison, and not a disease.
Everything that was happening was frightening Maggie, understandably, and she was terrified by Michael’s disappearance. She had been totally dependent on him for years.
“Where is Michael?” she asked insistently again, with wide eyes. She couldn’t face this without him. “Is he handling all this?” And why hadn’t he explained it to her? He was the only doctor she had total faith in. Peter looked away to avoid the questions in her eyes.
“He’s not here,” Peter said vaguely, and Maggie looked even more frightened as she laid her head back on the pillow. He was her protector and savior and had kept her alive for years. She had an even more alarming thought then.
“Was he poisoned too?” Maybe he was sick, or worse. Her eyes flew to Peter’s, and he shook his head.
“The police are doing an investigation of how this happened” was all Peter said. He could see that she was already worn out by his visit.
The doctors had no idea how long it would take to clear the poison from her system, after being poisoned over an extensive period of time on a regular basis. But they agreed with her son. This was not a single event; nor had it occurred only recently. Her neurological symptoms suggested that it had gone on for a long time. They had also asked her about what medications she took regularly, and she didn’t know. She had told them to ask Michael, but that she knew that he gave her sleeping pills and tranquilizers for her nerves, and several different pills, she had no idea what they were. The paraquat and the medications could have kept her bedridden for years and in deteriorating health, and already had. The records from her skating accident were being brought out of the archives to be compared with the symptoms she had now and had been experiencing for years. Few of them were related to her fall, or even the coma afterward, except for her stiff leg, and headaches she had had within the first year and never since.
“Where’s Michael? Why isn’t he here?” she asked again, starting to cry then. She wanted to know. And Peter knew he couldn’t avoid the subject forever.
He didn’t want to tell her yet that Michael had been arrested. She was in no condition to hear that her husband had been trying to kill her, maybe for years. Like Bill, he no longer believed that Michael had only done this since she inherited the money from her father. He had been preparing for this for a long time, destroying her psychologically and physically so he could control her, just as Bill had said, perhaps intending to kill her once she inherited her father’s money. This had been a long-term plan, Peter felt sure. He was a monster, just as Peter had known when they were young, and as his own son had discovered later. Peter had believed him to be a different person now. He wasn’t. If anything, he was infinitely worse.
Maggie’s breathing became more ragged, as she became agitated asking for Michael, and a nurse came in and put her oxygen mask back on, with a warning look at Peter. It was clear that they weren’t going to be able to tell her about Michael’s arrest today.
She dozed for a little while, and then Bill came in to see her while Peter was still there, sitting quietly in a chair.
Maggie opened her eyes a few minutes after Bill got there.
“Hi, Mom, I love you.” He smiled gently at her.
“I love you too,” she said, choking on a sob, and squeezed his hand. Her grip was stronger. “Have you seen your father?” She echoed her question to Peter. Bill shook his head.
“All you have to do is get better. Why don’t you try and get some sleep now?” She closed her eyes, and Peter and Bill exchanged a look, and then Maggie opened her eyes again.
“I’m so worried about your father,” Maggie said to her son, and then her eyes drifted to Peter. She could tell that they both knew something she didn’t. “Is he hurt?” Maybe he’d been in an accident on the road. No one would tell her.
“You’re going to get better now, Mom,” Bill promised her. And if his father hadn’t done too much damage, that would be true, better than she’d been in years. He had weakened her with bed rest, medications, and their side effects, and brainwashed her into believing she was sick and frail. The drugs alone that he had administered had weakened and confused her for years, along with the psychological games and fears he instilled in her about infection, accident, and germs that could kill her at any time, and comments about her “bad nerves.” He had shut her away from the world so he could control her, and he had played mind games with his children, inflating Lisa’s role to one of greater responsibility and importance than she should have had at her age, to diminish her mother further, and he had tried to control Bill and never succeeded. He wanted to break him and punish him for his clear vision of his father, and instead Michael had driven him away, which worked for him too, and tried to convince his mother that he was crazy. Maggie hadn’t known what to believe, but looking into Bill’s eyes now, she could see the strong, healthy man he was.
“Are you staying?” she asked hopefully.
“For a while.” He had sent an e-mail to school that day saying that a family emergency had called him home for several weeks. He had requested that his assignments be sent to him electronically. It was the best he could do, but he was prepared to drop out for the semester if he had to. His mother was more important than anything else in his world, and he had no idea how long it would take now to restore her. No one did.
Maggie remained agitated whenever she talked to Bill and Peter about Michael, and finally she seemed to wear herself out and settle down. They both felt guilty for being dishonest with her, and their excuses for Michael’s absence were thin. Peter finally told her Michael was home with Lisa, and Maggie accepted that with a peaceful look. She wasn’t clear on how long it had been since she had seen him. They had claimed an emergency for him earlier that day—a patient who had had a stroke, and he needed to be with him. Maggie had accepted that as well. Peter had no idea when she would be strong enough for them to tell her that Michael was under investigation, in custody at the jail, and about to be arraigned on charges of attempted murder.
It was late afternoon when Bill and Peter were able to leave her. She had finally fallen into a deep sleep, holding her son’s hand. They knew they had a hard night ahead of them with Lisa, and Jack Nelson had called to say that reporter
s were buzzing around the police station like flies, and were likely to turn up at the house.
The chief of police called Peter on his cell phone as they left the parking lot.
“I want to speak to you and your nephew tomorrow,” he said sternly. He hadn’t had a case that upset him this much in years. Michael was someone he would have trusted with his life. He was still hoping that it was some kind of mistake, maybe an accidental poisoning of some kind. Everyone in town knew how much Michael loved his wife. They had evidence of it for years. He had been totally dedicated to Maggie.
Twice in his career, Jack had dealt with crimes of passion. One of them had been a friend who found his wife in bed with someone else, and he had shot them both and then himself. It had been terrible, and Jack had been first on the crime scene. He had been a young policeman then and had answered the call when a neighbor heard the gunshots. Jack had cried afterward. But if this was true, it upset him even more, because he and Michael were so close. This was attempted murder, premeditated, with malice aforethought, the work of a dangerously sick mind. He was praying for some other explanation, but there was none so far.
Chapter 16
Jack Nelson stood outside Michael’s cell at the police department before he turned the key and let himself in. They had a few holding cells in Ware, and Jack was keeping him there intentionally instead of transferring him to the house of corrections in Northampton. He’d have to move him there for the arraignment. But he kept him in Ware for a few days, so he could discuss the matter further with Michael. He wanted to do all he could to help him. This had to be some kind of terrible mistake.
Jack needed to talk to Michael without drawing attention to either of them. He had helped himself to the keys to Michael’s cell during lunch. Michael was sitting on his bunk, looking unaffected, and smiled when he saw his old friend. Jack looked far more distressed than he did. Michael was astonishingly calm and undisturbed despite the depressing surroundings. The jail cells at the station were old and grim, and there was a toilet next to the bed.
“Thanks for the visit,” he said to Jack, as though he had dropped by his office for a chat, which Jack often did when he drove by. And other times they met at the diner for lunch or dinner, on one of the rare occasions Michael went out for a meal. He usually stayed home with Maggie every night.
“This is pretty ridiculous, isn’t it?” Michael said with a rueful smile, making room for Jack on the bunk.
“I hope so,” Jack said, looking miserable. He seemed in considerably worse spirits than Michael. He had been awake all night, thinking about it, trying to find a rational explanation for the two reports. “Christ, I hope so,” Jack answered. “What do you think happened? This is off the record,” he reassured him, and then felt he owed him a warning, “but if you did it, tell your lawyer, don’t tell me.”
“I don’t have one. And I didn’t do it. I don’t know what the hell happened. Maybe a mistake at the lab. Some crazy chemical circumstance that mimics something else. Maggie’s on a lot of medications. Sometimes things work together and make strange composites and reactions. The only thing I know for sure is that I didn’t poison her. I love her,” Michael said innocently, as Jack patted his shoulder. He hated what was happening, and wished he could change it for him. Michael didn’t deserve to be in jail. He was a great guy. He had spent an entire life helping people, and Jack just knew that Michael wouldn’t try to kill his wife. But he offered no explanation for the weed killer they had found in his garden shed and the fact that his fingerprints were on it. That was a tough one to explain away. Jack looked deeply concerned. And then Michael suddenly looked up, as if he had a dark thought he hated even to put words to. “Maybe my brother tried to frame me. He’s my brother, but he was rotten as a kid. I thought he’d straightened up when he came back here. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s why he showed up, to get even with me about my parents’ wills and what they gave me. Or maybe he came back for Maggie.” Michael looked sad and disappointed as he said it. “He’s always been in love with her.”
“Do you think she’s in love with him?” Jack asked. A love triangle was certainly another motive. Peter had shown no sign that he was in love with Maggie when he had seen Jack the day before. But Jack assumed Peter was smart enough to conceal whatever he felt, and Michael looked dismayed as he made accusations about his brother.
“Maybe she’s in love with Peter. I’m not a very exciting person,” Michael smiled shyly, “and he’s always been the handsome one. They had a fling in high school. Sometimes women go back to guys like that years later, to put a little excitement in their lives, and Maggie has a lot of time on her hands. She spends hours on the Internet, and I’ve been thinking. Maybe they’ve been e-mailing for a long time, and set this up. Maybe she broke up his marriage.” He was implicating his wife and brother, but he looked like he sincerely believed it was possible and the idea upset him. “And Bill’s always been just like my brother. The bad seed. I tried to fight it and straighten him out. I never could. Bill’s been a liar all his life, just like Peter.” Jack nodded. He knew that Michael had had trouble with his son for years, and was sad but relieved when he left, because he constantly upset the family, and he and Michael were eternally engaged in battle. He had said it to Jack many times.
“I hope we get enough evidence to clear you,” Jack said sincerely. “I don’t want you in here.” He smiled sadly. “I want to send you home where you belong.” He believed that Michael was the victim of a sinister plot, and Jack was determined to get to the truth. Maybe Michael’s brother and son had conspired against him. He still believed Michael to be as much the victim here as Maggie. He was an innocent man. And Jack didn’t want him to go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
“You won’t find the evidence to convict me. It just isn’t there,” Michael assured him. Jack was glad to hear it, and he believed him. He was sure Michael was telling the truth and that he couldn’t understand what had happened any more than Jack could. Knowing Michael as he did, the two bottles of the poison and the toxicology report just made no sense.
“You know, I read up on that paraquat stuff on the Internet last night,” Jack volunteered. “It said that it’s used in underdeveloped countries for suicides, because it’s cheap. Do you think Maggie might have been trying to do herself in?” Jack had thought of it the night before. She was a desperately sick woman, and led a miserable life as a shut-in. Maybe she was just tired of it, and wanted out. And maybe inadvertently, she was taking Michael down with her. And maybe Peter had taken advantage of her. Everyone knew he was broke. He needed Maggie’s money far more than Michael. Jack had Googled him too.
“It’s possible,” Michael admitted reluctantly. “She’s dying and she knows the Parkinson’s will get her sooner or later. Maybe she wants to end her life, and she wouldn’t say that to me, because she knows how hard I fight to extend it.” And then, as though confiding a deep secret, “She’s had psychiatric problems for years, ever since the accident. It’s understandable, given her life and what she has to look forward to. I try not to think about it, but she’s probably suicidal. She may have been poisoning herself without my knowledge.” It sounded like a viable explanation to the chief of police and far more credible than Michael poisoning her, which was ridiculous and truly impossible to believe. But then why weren’t her fingerprints on the two bottles of poison instead of his? Or maybe his brother had framed him. Jack was more than willing to believe that too. He was willing to believe anything, but not Michael trying to murder his wife. And he looked like an innocent man as he sat there, talking to his friend. Jack Nelson was proud that he had a nose for liars and criminals, and Michael McDowell wasn’t either one. He was dead sure.
“You’d better get yourself a lawyer,” he reminded Michael grimly.
“I don’t even know who to call,” Michael said glumly. He’d been thinking about it all morning. Jack gave him the names of lawyers in Northampton, Hadley, and Springfield, and Michael thanked him.
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“Take it easy,” Jack said, touching his shoulder again. “We’ll get you out of here, and get to the bottom of this yet. I promise.” It was a mystery Jack just couldn’t fathom.
“Thanks, Jack,” Michael said gratefully as the chief of police let himself out of the cell. He lay down on his bunk after that and went to sleep. He was feeling reassured by the chief’s visit. None of the police in the station believed he was guilty. They had been talking about it since the night before. He took care of them, their families, their parents. A guy like Dr. Mike didn’t go around killing people, and surely not his sick wife. They all believed it was a mistake, or that he had been framed, and so did their chief. He was certain of it. Given the evidence, Jack had had to arrest him, but he was positive that Michael was innocent.
Peter and Bill went to the station that morning to be fingerprinted and to meet with Jack before they went to the hospital to see Maggie. They had agreed to do so to cooperate with the investigation. They were wiping their hands clean when the chief asked them to come into his office. He had just left Michael in his cell, and he questioned Peter and Bill about their relationships with Michael. Both readily admitted that they had been difficult, although Peter said that he and his brother had grown close in the past several months and had spent a considerable amount of time together.
“And did he ever give you the impression that he was unhappy with his wife, or tired of taking care of her?” the chief asked him pointedly, and Peter shook his head.
Prodigal Son: A Novel Page 20
