by Lynn Bulock
He sighed. “Your guess is as good as mine. He poured a little bit into those phony businesses he enticed the two of you to contribute to. He apparently paid off a part of his daughter’s student loans. And once we find his mother, I’m ready to get a warrant to look at her bank accounts because I’m pretty sure we’ll find some of it there. But I don’t think all that will account for thirty-six thousand dollars.”
Zowie. That sounded like a solid amount of money when you lumped it together. It was more than I’d made a lot of years back in Missouri when that amount supported Ben and me quite nicely. “So we’re back to square one.” I felt like crying, more out of frustration than grief at this point.
“Maybe not all the way back to the beginning. This verifies what I was afraid of—that there are a few people with enough motives to murder Dennis Peete.” The detective looked at the two of us in turn, passing on the message that he apparently thought we were in that category.
I wasn’t about to let that go unchallenged. “That’s just silly, including us in people with a motive. Neither of us has any idea where our money’s gone. And with Dennis dead, we’re not likely to find out anytime in the near future.”
Fernandez shrugged broad shoulders. “That’s assuming that neither of you has found the money and concealed that fact from the other one, and now concealed it from me. It’s also assuming that there aren’t any more women running around thinking they’re married or engaged to this man. Although I think we would have found them by now if they existed.”
“I’m not so sure about that. If the two of us hadn’t shown up at the same Christian Friends meeting, I still wouldn’t know that Dennis didn’t just walk out on me.” Heather’s eyes filled with tears. “Although maybe it would have been better just to think that. I think this way is more painful.”
The detective spent some time looking down at his paperwork, scribbling something in the margins. It was almost as if he didn’t know what to say to Heather. “I take it you haven’t heard anything from Edna Peete?” he finally asked, turning to me.
“I told you I’d bring her directly here if I did.” It was hard trying not to sound aggravated with this man. Maybe just the job he was in made him expect the worst of everybody. His tone of voice always sounded like he expected the worst of me, and I was tired of it. “No phone calls, no car in the driveway, nothing. How about Carol? Has she heard anything from Edna?”
“Not to my knowledge, and I’ve talked to her several times.”
“Sounds to me like we’re back to square one.” Heather looked as dejected as she sounded. “And you’re still sure it’s murder, that the shock of trying to come out of a coma didn’t kill Dennis?” I had to notice that she was calling Dennis by the same name as the rest of us did. It didn’t feel like a good sign. Whatever hope she’d held in the man who fathered her child, it was gone now.
“I’m sure it’s murder.” It continued to surprise me that the detective’s eyes could go from soft brown to glittering marble-hard so quickly. “In fact I’m surer than ever, now that the toxicology reports are in. According to the medical examiner this is officially a homicide, or at least manslaughter.”
“How does he figure that?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I didn’t expect the detective to answer me, but maybe for once I’d get a reply.
Wonder of wonders, he answered. “It seems Mr. Peete had a bit of GHB in his system.”
Heather looked puzzled. “Like the date-rape drug, or the stuff that kids take at raves?” Fernandez nodded. “That doesn’t make any sense. Could it be something that metabolized from something he was being given there by the doctors?”
“No. I already checked with the staff there, and nothing he was being prescribed bore even the slightest chemical resemblance to a date-rape drug. There’s no medical use for the stuff for somebody coming out of a coma. In fact, there’s no certified medical use for it in this country at all.”
“So this would mean that nobody on the staff gave him this drug thinking it was medication. Someone would have had to have known they were giving him a street drug. Which is why you’re calling this a homicide, right?”
His eyes were bright this time without glaring at me. It was a pleasant change. “Right. The amount he had in his system would only have made a healthy person mildly ill in most cases. It was the combination of the drug and his medical condition that killed him.”
Fernandez was looking at me now in a more speculative way, and I felt cold and a little shaky. I had a feeling I knew what was coming next. “Did you find the drug anywhere else besides Dennis’s bloodstream?”
“Just that cup of green tea that was on his bedside. The GHB there was in about the same concentration. I believe you said it was your tea, didn’t you, Ms. Harris?”
“It was. But I certainly didn’t bring it in there. I left that cup in the family lounge when I went out. And it didn’t taste odd the last time I had any of it, either.” Of course, none of this protesting was going to cut any ice with a police detective. I could probably have saved my breath.
“I didn’t suggest that.” His voice was calm. In fact it was almost too calm, making him sound like a snake charmer to me. I felt even colder than before, remembering what Jeannie out in the front office had told me about Fernandez’s closure rate. “It would be helpful, however, if you stop by the department where you got your fingerprints taken before you leave the building. One of the techs there will take a DNA sample. It’s a painless procedure, just a swab on the inside of your cheek.”
This didn’t sound good. “You also, Ms. Taylor. And I have one more request for you, although it’s totally voluntary at this point. Is your obstetrician in the area?”
Heather’s response was slow and puzzled. “She is now. I finally changed to one here in Rancho Conejo. I’ve spent so much time with my mother that it didn’t make any sense to keep going where I’d started out, when it was a forty-five-minute drive. Why do you ask?”
“Because I think it might be helpful if you went and had a blood test yourself. I know you’ve told me that you’ve been nauseated most of your pregnancy, but that nausea you displayed the day Mr. Peete died was pretty spectacular. If there was GHB in one of those cups, it could have been in several, depending on how it got there. Not being a scientist or a doctor myself, I have no idea what kind of problems GHB might cause you or your child.”
There were tears in her eyes now, and she was nodding. “I see what you mean. And it could have been something like that Thursday that was making me ill, or it could have just been the stress of a horrible day. But I’ll call the doctor’s office and see if I can get in.”
“You might try to have that blood work done today. GHB doesn’t stay in your system forever, and the longer we wait, the less we’ll know for sure.”
“Maybe I should just go on over there now.” Heather’s voice sounded shaky. I felt really bad for her, but then I’d felt that way most of the time I’d known her.
“Do you want me to take you? It might be better than going home to get your car and it would certainly be quicker,” I offered.
The tears that had threatened before overflowed. “Would you do that? If I go home, my mom will see how upset I am, and it will only lead to bigger problems. Every thing I have to tell her about Dennis just makes her nastier to get along with.”
The detective looked like he was about to say something, then apparently changed his mind. “We’ll go get our cheeks swabbed first,” I promised him. “Otherwise, are we free to go?”
He looked a little stunned. “Certainly. But do stop at the lab first. And when you get to your doctor’s office, Ms. Taylor, please sign a release that will let them give me the information, as well, if you could.”
“I will,” she said, getting up from the chair with a little difficulty. While watching her gather her things and get ready to leave, I thought of the other thing I’d meant to tell Fernandez.
“You probably already know this,�
�� I started, and was thankful that at least he didn’t roll his eyes. “But I thought of somebody who might be able to tell you more than anybody else about what actually went on in Dennis’s room that day. Or any other day, for that matter.”
“And that would be?” His notebook was out, with pen poised.
“I don’t know her name, which is a mark against me, I think, seeing as long as I’ve run into her there. But the same woman cleans and disinfects everything in the family lounge and the patients’ rooms on that floor of the care center every day. The only day I haven’t seen her is Sundays.”
Fernandez nodded. “I have a name here on my list of people to interview, someone from housekeeping. Adela Rodriguez.”
“That might be her. This lady is somewhere in her fifties or sixties, I’d say, very slight build, long dark hair going gray. She always has a smile for everybody, but is very quiet except for humming. It always sounds like hymns to me.” Which was funny, because they weren’t hymns I knew. How I knew it was church music, I couldn’t say, which is why I’d kept that part to myself instead of making a fool of myself again in front of Ray Fernandez. That had already happened enough times.
“Part of her silence might be because Ms. Rodriguez speaks little English, according to the notes I have here. That won’t be a problem for me, but it might keep her from speaking to people there on the floor.”
“True. Especially when she’s dealing with people like me, who don’t seem to have a clue even in English most of the time.”
Fernandez stood up, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go that far, Ms. Harris. You’re observant and seem to have a fair amount of feelings for most of the human race. Now go take your…friend to the lab and then get her to the doctor.” I’d almost forgotten about Heather standing next to me. So much for not looking like a fool again. At least I didn’t trip over the chair on my way out. It was the best I could say for my exit from the detective’s office.
Heather’s doctor was as reassuring as she could be, but that wasn’t a whole bunch. She let Heather listen to the baby’s heartbeat, which sounded normal as far as the doctor could tell. The blood tests she did wouldn’t yield results for at least four days. Heather didn’t look much more comforted when she came back to the waiting room. “She didn’t find anything strange right away, so that’s good.” I didn’t know what to tell her.
The past few days had been so terribly odd. I hated to keep bothering Linnette with all this, but there weren’t too many other people who would listen to me or to Heather, either, for that matter. “Did you get Linnette’s message?” Heather asked, almost making me jump. It was one thing to be thinking about somebody; it was another thing altogether to have the person next to you mention them at the same time.
“Not yet. Should I have?”
“Probably. She must have called you after she called me, and I got the message just as I was leaving this morning. I totally forgot to tell you until now. She called the rest of the group and can get Christian Friends together tonight on this short notice. Seven-thirty like usual.” Heather had a wan smile. “I could use a good session of talking to other women.”
“You and me both,” I told her. I almost hoped nobody else had a crisis to deal with. There was going to be plenty to go around just with what Heather and I had to share with the group again.
Something else dawned on me as we were walking out in the parking lot to get to the car. “Are you up for one more trip this morning or not?”
Heather looked like she wanted to say no on the spot. “That depends on what it is,” she said, sounding wary.
“Not fun stuff, that’s for sure.” I punched the button that unlocked her car door along with my own and we got into the warm car. “I need to make a visit to Dodd and Sons, and wondered if you wanted to go along.”
Her smile looked even weaker than it had earlier. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I can’t handle anything like a funeral home today. I’m not even sure how I’ll handle it when the time comes for the service. But I really appreciate you inviting me along. You could be just shutting me out on all this.”
“I guess. The detective said that, too, but I don’t see how I could. It’s not like most of this is your fault. Dennis pretended he was single while he was with you. He never even mentioned me. So it’s not like you knew he was married.” Besides, I figured her burdens were heavy enough right now; why dump more guilt on her that she couldn’t do anything with? It was going to be hard enough for the young woman to deal with life in general. Her baby’s father was dead and nothing could change that.
“Well, anyway, I appreciate it.” Heather aimed the front seat vents at herself when the car started. “But this time, Gracie Lee, just take me home. I’ll see you tonight at the chapel, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan.” More of a plan, I thought, than I had to deal with Dodd and Sons once I got there. I imagined that this was going to be a strange situation even for them.
I was right about that one. The man dealing with me in his cool, pristine office looked young enough that he was probably part of the “and Sons” part of the funeral home business. His name was Scott, and he seemed hard-pressed to keep his jaw from hanging open as I explained what I could of the situation.
His eyes widened enormously as he shuffled paperwork on his desk. “Now let me get this straight. Your husband’s body is being held by the coroner because he’s apparently been murdered. There is one ex-wife involved in addition to yourself, and another woman and your husband’s mother, who can’t be found at this point. He has no life insurance that you’re aware of and the business or businesses that he ran up until his…incapacitation may or may not have any assets.”
It sounded even worse summed up like that. Thanks a bunch, Scott. “That’s right. I’m positive, though, that his mother, once she does show up, would be appalled at the thought of him being buried by the county.”
Scott’s smile was rueful. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but the mere fact that you’ve shown up and made your whereabouts known before the body was released pretty much does in that notion. The county is off the hook once a legal next of kin appears, whether you like the deceased or not.”
Lovely. My regard for Dennis dropped even more, what little there was to begin with. “I suspect that Dennis himself might have had resources squirreled away for emergencies, and I’m pretty sure that Edna does, too. We just can’t find her at the moment.”
“All right. Do you have any idea where any of these resources might be? And if you don’t find them, how do you expect to pay for a funeral?” Poor Scott was getting paler by the minute.
“I can think of other places to look. And I haven’t spoken with his ex-wife to see if she’s aware of the existence of any life insurance policies on Dennis that he might not have shared with me.” Although, given what I now knew about Dennis, I had to assume that he hadn’t given any thought to what was going to happen to him after death. In the arena of spiritual concerns, he had put such thoughts off until another time or rejected them altogether. In the way of financial concerns, I suspected that death and burial were the furthest things from his mind. It was going to fall to those of us who were still here to deal with what Dennis had left us.
There was a computer screen on the corner of Scott’s desk, so slim that it was hardly noticeable. He typed something in on the keyboard half-hidden on a tray jutting out from the desk and frowned. “Just on the off chance that there might have been something in the way of a prepaid plan, I typed in your husband’s name. But unfortunately I don’t see anything, Mrs. Harris.”
“That would be part of the problem right there, Scott. To complicate the situation even more than I’ve already told you, my husband’s last name is Peete,” I told him, and spelled it for him. Nobody puts the last e on the end.
“Hmm.” Scott was still frowning, but it was a different kind of frown this time. “There might be something after all. Definitely, there’s a prepaid plan for an Edna Peete and she seems to have
prepaid at least part of a plan for another individual. Mr. Peete’s father wouldn’t still be living, would he?”
“Not to my knowledge.” It suddenly dawned on me that Dennis’s father was something neither he nor Edna had ever mentioned in my presence. Once, long before we’d moved to California, Dennis had said something about growing up alone with his mom. But that was the sum total of what I remembered.
“Then if you’re fortunate, there’s already some provision made for your husband’s burial. I can compare notes when the county releases the body, assuming that you tell them to send it here. Is that all right?”
It was as good an idea as anything else. Scott and I tied up what little we could, he gave me the traditional funeral director’s limp handshake and I left.
Even Edna’s house, empty as it was going to be, sounded pretty good at this point. It had been a long morning and a depressing one. I stopped by the grocery to pick up a few things to try and put together lunch for myself, and a few necessities for the next couple days. When I pulled into the driveway there was an older compact car parked on the street and a person parked in one of the two Adirondack chairs on the front porch.
When the stranger pulled himself out of the chair and rose, I had the odd thought, just for a moment, that somehow Ben had gotten out here to California. But no, it was a stranger, though he was definitely somebody in his teens or early twenties, with the tall, rangy gangliness of my son. This young man’s hair was a shade or two darker than Ben’s cinnamon and he was definitely dressed nicer than the ratty jeans and band T-shirts that Ben seemed to be favoring right now.
I got the car parked in the garage, but hadn’t opened the door or managed to close the garage door before the young man was there beside the car. Up close he didn’t look that much like Ben, but he didn’t look like much of a threat of any kind, either. I still only opened my car door slowly, with a hand on my cell phone in case I needed to call 911 or something.
