Isobel smiled. “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, my lines...”
Delphi winked. “Exactly.”
“Do you get an awesome death scene?”
“Nah. I croak offstage after Act Three, scene four.”
They settled in to watch, as Gary Stinson, the wimpy Willy Loman, took the stage and intoned:
Here have we war for war and blood for blood,
Controlment for controlment: so answer France.
“He’s really good,” Isobel whispered. “Where does all that authority come from?”
“Who knows? And he’s got decent legs. I don’t know why he was so nervous about auditioning in tights.”
“And hold!” Graham’s voice echoed in the room.
Delphi sighed. “This is going to be a long night.”
Isobel glanced at her watch. “I really should go. I’m beat.”
“Oh, just stay and watch my first scene,” Delphi pleaded. “It’s next. What if you get here late or something on Thursday and miss it?”
“I’m not going to miss it!” Isobel protested. “Besides, I’m coming with a whole bunch of people. Sunil and Hugh. And, um, James.”
Delphi put her hand over her heart. “‘What warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?’”
Isobel grimaced. “You know, the best thing about your rehearsing King John is that you stopped doing that.”
“Okay, fine. But seriously, all three of them?” Delphi folded her arms and sulked. “You’re trying to upstage me.”
Isobel knew that Delphi was only half-joking. “It was an accident. I invited James, forgetting I had already asked Hugh to come with Sunil and me. Actually, I’m hoping to bring a few more people, too, just to defuse the tension.”
“Isn’t that a little greedy?”
“I mean female friends.” She brightened. “Maybe I’ll ask Katrina.”
Delphi shook a warning finger. “Don’t overcompensate. Just because you caught Liz in one fib, doesn’t mean you can trust Katrina.”
“I’m not talking about trusting her. I’m talking about inviting her to see your play.”
Delphi stood up and tied the strings on her bodice together, so that her cleavage increased to hide-and-seek proportions. “You know what I mean. Keep your distance.”
Graham’s stentorian voice rang out. “Act Two, scene one. Austria, stage right. Philip, Lewis, Arthur, Constance, stage left!”
“Gotta go,” Delphi said.
“I’ll make sure to laugh at the funny parts,” said Isobel.
Delphi scowled. “There are no funny parts.”
“Just funny actors?” Isobel called after her. Delphi flipped her the bird over her shoulder and took her place onstage.
THIRTY-SIX
Isobel wound up staying at Delphi’s rehearsal longer than she planned. She was so tired when she got home that she fell into bed with her clothes on and forgot to set her alarm. By the time she arrived at the office the next morning, the place was abuzz with gossip, the locus of which was, as usual, in the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee and tuned in. Apparently, Jayla Cummings had arrived earlier for a meeting with Barnaby, and speculation was rampant.
“Maybe she’s going to replace Kit,” Penny said.
“Are you kidding?” scoffed Liz. “She must make money hand over fist as a consultant. Why would she take a pay cut to work in PR?”
“She could be angling to be a partner,” said Aaron, whose tone reminded Isobel that he considered all professional women ruthless strivers.
“What kind of partner?” Dorothy said. “Everything’s going to change the moment the merger is finalized.”
“I thought the merger was off,” said Penny.
Isobel stole a glance at Katrina, who was staring resolutely at her Ferragamos. When the gathering broke up, she followed her friend down the hall.
“I noticed you didn’t say much,” Isobel commented. She set her coffee cup next to her computer and pulled out her chair, but Katrina stopped her.
“Not here.”
They rounded the bend to Katrina’s office, where Katrina shut the door and sank into her chair.
“The merger is back on. That’s why Jayla is here. It was one of my father’s conditions that they take us back.”
“Did you…” Isobel let the question hang.
“Barnaby threatened to send the photo to my father unless I convinced him to give us one more chance.” Katrina ran a weary hand over her face. “It was awful, Isobel. My father couldn’t figure out why I was being so insistent about the merger going through, when I’d already made it clear that I was pissed about it. I had to make up all kinds of reasons. At one point, I even considered telling him that Barnaby was blackmailing me with something, but I couldn’t see how to do that without telling him what. And nothing would make him run from the merger quicker than knowing what Barnaby was up to. And then God knows who Barnaby would have sent that picture to just to get back at me. I’m just so sick of all this.” She looked up at Isobel, who saw that her eyes were wet. “All I want is to show my father that I can make it on my own, but I can’t shake him. I’ll always be a pawn to anyone who knows who he is.”
Isobel was tempted to tell Katrina that it was Kit, not Jason, who had sent Barnaby the photo, but she couldn’t see how to do that without revealing that Aaron knew about it, which would only make Katrina feel worse.
“Do you trust Barnaby to keep his word?” she asked.
“I made him delete it in front of me. He had it on his phone, and he’d archived it onto his computer. What an asshole.”
Isobel was suddenly glad she’d caught Liz in her lie. She felt sorry for Katrina, whose advantages she had always envied, but which had turned out not to be so advantageous after all. She was relieved to be able to be genuinely sympathetic and supportive, without wondering if she was being fed a line.
“How did your father convince Schumann, Crowe & Dyer to take us back? They still had to agree.”
Katrina stifled a hiccup. “The retainer is minimal. That’s what Barnaby and Jayla are hashing out right now—I was just up there. There’s also going to be a personnel shakeup. The financial services group upstairs is going to take it on.”
“What about you?”
Katrina gave a sad smile. “Graduate school is sounding pretty good right about now.”
There was a knock on the door, and Penny poked her head in. “Can you guys come out? Barnaby is here with Jayla and he wants to talk to everyone.”
They returned to the open area in the center of the floor. Jayla stood next to Isobel’s desk with Barnaby, Jimmy and Mike Hardy from Human Resources. Jayla’s smile slipped a little when she spotted Isobel, but she quickly masked it by picking up her coffee cup and taking an extra-long sip. Katrina and Isobel joined Liz and Aaron. Dorothy and Penny stood next to each other, while grumpy Wilbur Freed remained off by himself, clutching his sheaf of newspapers and magazines to his chest. His gaze shifted momentarily to Isobel, and she had the distinct impression that he was still angry with her for knocking into him on the spiral staircase, even thought that was days ago.
Barnaby rambled on for a while about their new contract with Schumann, Crowe & Dyer and how important it was to work together and keep the lines of communication open, so there were no more “errors in judgment.”
Isobel stole a glance at Liz, whose face sobered slightly at this.
“As a show of good faith,” Barnaby continued, “I’m giving the account to the group upstairs.”
There was a rustle of surprise, as heads turned to Aaron and Liz, who stared fixedly ahead. Oddly enough, nobody looked at Katrina.
“And finally, there’s one more important piece of news. The merger is back on.”
The murmur swelled, forcing Barnaby to raise his voice.
“And it’s definite. Nothing is going to derail it. Not this time.”
With that, Jayla collapsed onto the floor, vomit s
plattering Isobel’s desk as she went down.
THIRTY-SEVEN
There was a moment of stunned, horrified silence, broken by Barnaby’s bellowed command to call 911. Isobel, Liz and Aaron all reached for the phone on Isobel’s desk, but Liz was quickest. Mike Hardy knelt by Jayla, positioning her head to the side so she wouldn’t choke. Isobel’s stomach heaved as Jayla’s eyes rolled back into her head. She gripped Katrina’s arm and saw that her friend’s face was deathly pale against her bright red hair. Dorothy, her face even whiter than Katrina’s, knelt on Jayla’s other side and pressed her fingers into Jayla’s wrist.
“Her pulse isn’t regular—I can’t count it.”
“I think she may be having a seizure,” Liz said into the phone. “Late twenties, early thirties… She could have a condition, I don’t know. She’s a professional acquaintance, not personal…”
Isobel marveled at how calm and matter-of-fact Liz’s voice was. She’d certainly be the mom you’d want around in a crisis. Liz gave the address and hung up.
“They said to try to keep her from biting her tongue and choking,” Liz said. “They’re on their way.”
“This doesn’t change anything,” Barnaby muttered.
Isobel stared at him, aghast. How he could still be thinking of the merger at a time like this was beyond her. She looked down at Jayla, who had started gasping for air.
“Who knows CPR?” Barnaby shouted.
Without answering, Dorothy began chest compressions. Aaron, whom Isobel hadn’t noticed disappearing, was suddenly there with paper towels, and began to clean off Isobel’s desk.
“This is awful,” Penny said under her breath. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Isobel was surprised at how shaky her voice sounded.
Jayla came to with a shudder and vomited some more. Undaunted, Dorothy propped her head up a bit.
“Blurry,” Jayla whispered. “Looks funny…”
“You’re going to be all right. The paramedics should be here any minute,” Mike said. He stood up and gestured for the others to give her some space.
A wet stain darkened the carpet where Mike had been kneeling. Isobel followed the irregular brown pattern until her eyes fell on Jayla’s coffee cup, which had come to rest on its side by the filing cabinet. The room suddenly seemed overly bright, and Isobel felt a warning flush. She grabbed one of Aaron’s paper towels and sidled over to the filing cabinet. She wrapped the coffee cup in the paper towel and, hoping nobody was looking, retreated to the kitchen to find a plastic bag.
She had just sealed up the cup, when Jimmy’s voice startled her.
“What are you doing?”
Isobel jumped and put a hand over her heart. “Oh, my God, Jimmy, you scared the shit out of me!”
He pointed to the bag. “Why do you have Jayla’s coffee cup?”
“I’m following my instincts. Think about what happened to Jason. Who’s to say somebody didn’t try to poison Jayla?”
Jimmy folded his arms and rocked slightly from side to side. “With what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not my Demerol, that’s long gone.”
“Jimmy…”
He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Has Angus’s office been cleaned out yet?”
“His son came yesterday for his personal effects, and Barnaby took his files.”
Isobel frowned. “Well, forget that.”
Jimmy took a step toward her. “If you’re thinking of the digoxin, remember, Sophie kept it.”
She grasped his arm. “Jimmy, can you get back up there and see if she still has it?”
He saluted. “I’m on it.”
She followed him out and watched him take the stairs two at a time. When she returned to the group, the paramedics were strapping Jayla to a stretcher.
“What did they say?” Isobel asked Katrina.
“Her heartbeat is all over the place. They’re taking her to the hospital.”
“Are the police on their way?”
Katrina gave her a look. “Why the police?”
“Um, because we’ve had two deaths here already?”
“What are you saying?”
“You don’t think there’s anything odd about this?”
Before Katrina could answer, Isobel saw Jimmy beckoning her from the staircase. Grateful for the escape, she excused herself and met him halfway up.
“It’s not there,” he whispered.
“Sophie threw it away?”
He shook his head. “No. She said she completely forgot about it, but when we looked in the drawer where she kept it, it was gone. Both the pills and the injectable. And she can’t even say for sure when the injectable went missing.”
Isobel wasn’t surprised when Detectives O’Connor and Aguilar appeared about an hour later. She caught O’Connor’s eye and motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he quipped.
Isobel handed him the plastic bag, and his expression grew somber.
“Jayla was drinking coffee from this cup before she passed out. It may be nothing, but given everything else, I thought it you should have it.”
O’Connor nodded. “Good catch. It’s time to fingerprint everyone in the office.”
Isobel coughed self-consciously. “Just so you know, mine are already on record.”
O’Connor regarded her. “And why is that?”
She proceeded to tell him about her experience solving the bank murder.
“Yes, I heard about that incident.” O’Connor nodded thoughtfully. “That explains a lot about you. And Mr. Cooke.”
He started for the door, but Isobel stopped him.
“Wait! There’s one—no, two other things you should know.”
He turned toward her, expectantly.
“Angus Dove’s digoxin is missing, both the pills and his emergency injectable. It was his secretary, Sophie, who kept it. She said it’s gone.”
O’Connor jotted the information down in his notebook. “Is she still here?”
“Yes, she’s upstairs.”
O’Connor nodded. “And?”
Isobel hesitated, and then said, “Jimmy Rocket, Barnaby’s assistant, kept Demerol in his office for severe back pain. It went missing just before Jason Whiteley died, and Jimmy found the empty pill bottle in Barnaby’s office.”
O’Connor gave a dismissive shake of his head. “The Demerol that was in Jason Whiteley’s system was also an injectable. The kind you’d get for oral surgery. You could never grind up enough pills to hide in coffee without the person noticing.”
A wave of relief washed over Isobel.
“On the other hand,” O’Connor continued thoughtfully, “if Rocket had access to pills, he might also have had access to the other. I’ll speak to him.”
Isobel followed the detectives back out to the group. O’Connor cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.
“Just to make sure we’ve covered our ground, we’d like to get your fingerprints for elimination purposes. If anybody already has prints on record, there’s no need to participate. Please bear with us.”
“This is an outrage!” Barnaby roared. “What are you accusing us of?”
“Nothing—yet,” O’Connor said pointedly. “But in light of the fact that two people have been found dead in this office, and another has just had a seizure of unaccountable origin, I would say this exercise is overdue.” O’Connor took a few steps forward until he towered over Barnaby, who, despite his girth, was not very tall. “Unless you are officially a suspect, offering your fingerprints is voluntary. I’m sure I don’t need to point out how ungracious it will look if you refuse.”
Barnaby had no answer to that, and as the others took themselves off in groups to discuss this new development, Aguilar unpacked a portable fingerprinting kit. He began to clear a space on Isobel’s desk, but O’Connor’s hand shot out and stayed his arm.
Isobel’s coffee cup, made o
f the same institutional white china as Jayla’s, sat on her desk, undisturbed. O’Connor took a paper towel and, with a glance at Isobel, wrapped his fingers around it. He spoke softly to Aguilar, but Isobel heard him.
“Decant this. And bag the cup.”
She wasn’t sure what O’Connor was thinking, taking her cup as well as Jayla’s, but she knew it couldn’t be anything good.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Ginger Wainwright, back from her Jamaica vacation, was prowling the cramped corridors of Temp Zone with renewed vigor. Despite the frigid temperature, she had yet to abandon her island wear. She was flaunting a too-revealing orange tank top that managed to clash with both her tan and her chemically-induced red hair, and she had brought along matching flip flops, which, in a reverse from summer practice, she changed into after she got to the office. James found himself wishing he’d chosen last night for his relapse so he could have postponed having to deal with her for one more day. On the other hand, Ginger never took kindly to unexplained absences, and there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.
After she had poked her head into his office for her obligatory morning reconnaissance and declared herself satisfied with his work during her absence, James shut his door and popped open his first Diet Coke of the day. One benefit of Ginger still being on island time was that she’d come in late, so at least he had enjoyed one last quiet interlude. But now it was time to settle down to work.
He had just started filling out an evaluation form for a potential new recruit when the phone rang. Recognizing the number from Dove & Flight, he picked up.
“Hey, Isobel.”
“I have to ask you something about Jayla.”
He inhaled sharply. “I told you, that’s over, there’s nothing—”
“Does she have a seizure condition?”
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