‘I should talk,’ she said. She dug a vape pen out of the pocket of her tunic, clicked several times to switch it on, waited a few seconds for the element to heat up, then took a toke. Then another. She sighed. Closed her eyes.
Had Cindy just pointed the finger at Mark for the murder of Daniel Morecraft-Hill? Or, had she killed Daniel herself to protect her husband’s job?
From the speakers, guitars picked out a simple melody. A recorder sang, sweet as a panpipe, performing a folk ballad like they used to write: simple, honest and hauntingly beautiful. I saw you, saw you comin’ back to me.
My conversation with Cindy seemed hours in the past.
The music faded. Except for Cindy’s quiet, rhythmic breathing, silence filled the solarium.
I should have gone to bed, I knew that. I’d promised Claire I’d come up as soon as the album was over, but at that moment it seemed like too much effort. Overcome with weariness, and trusting that Cindy’s vape pen had an automatic shut-off, I nestled down in the chair and slept.
I awoke in a panic. The lights were out. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to raise my head but something heavy pressed down on it. Desperate for air, I turned my head to the right, but the pressure only intensified, flattening my ear against the upholstery, pinning it there.
I reached up, clawing. At a pillow, at the hands that held it to my face. I grasped one of the hands, dug my fingernails in firm and deep.
‘Ouch!’ someone cried. I held on, digging harder.
I squirmed, scooting down in the chair, trying to get out from under the pillow, but my only reward was a knee, hard and unyielding, in my stomach. My legs flailed uselessly. My lungs burned, my eyelids stung. If this kept up much longer, my eyeballs would surely burst.
Whttt, whttt, whttt. Whooshing in my ears, gradually growing louder. Was the sound coming from me or my attacker?
Fireworks exploded behind my eyelids, and then everything faded to black.
I felt it first, something pounding on my chest: one-two-three-four-five.
A mouth pressed to mine. Air, blessed air, with a hint of hops.
Somebody was calling my name. ‘Hannah! Hannah!’
I gasped, took a bite of air, gulped it in greedily. I took several deep, unsteady breaths, delighted to discover that my lungs were still functioning.
Light appeared, around the edges at first, and then a face gradually came into focus, only inches from my own.
‘Hello, Colin,’ I said.
TWENTY-FIVE
Persons using this narcotic, smoke the dried leaves of the plant, which has the effect of driving them completely insane. The addict loses all sense of moral responsibility … While in this condition they become raving maniacs and are liable to kill or indulge in any form of violence to other persons, using the most savage methods of cruelty.
Emily F. Murphy, ‘Janey Canuck’, The Black Candle, Toronto, Thomas Allen, 1922, pp.332–333.
I was sitting in the chair I almost died in, sipping from a bottle of water. ‘Are you OK?’ Colin asked. ‘Please tell me you’re OK.’
‘I’m grateful you came back,’ I told him. ‘For more reasons than one.’
‘If I had been five minutes later …’ He let the thought die.
‘The Navy taught you something, at least.’ I dredged up a smile. ‘Punctuality.’
‘Not to put too fine a point on it,’ he said, ‘but what the fuck was going on here?’ Colin bobbed his head to the left, acknowledging Cindy. She huddled on the floor in a corner of the solarium, whimpering, sandwiched between the wainscoting and an antique étagière. A hand oozing blood was pressed against her left eye.
Colin’s question stumped me at first. ‘What’s going on?’ I repeated, massaging my temples, trying to pull the scattered threads of memory together. I remembered feeling light-headed after dinner – a mixup, someone said – and then I must have passed out.
‘What’s wrong with Cindy?’ I asked.
‘I socked her, I’m afraid.’
Maybe I was still a teensy bit high, but that simply didn’t compute. ‘Cindy? You punched Cindy? Why?’
‘She was trying to smother you, Hannah.’
‘Cindy? I can’t believe it.’ The former cheerleader avoided my gaze, drawing her knees up to her chin, shrinking further into herself.
From her body language, I knew what Colin said must be true.
‘You got your licks in first, though, Hannah. Her hand’s a bloody mess.’
I winced, distressed by the damage I had done. ‘Do you need ice for that eye?’ I asked Cindy.
‘Waaah!’ Cindy wailed, loud enough to draw Dracula out of his coffin, even in broad daylight.
Instead, it was Desiree who burst into the room, barefoot, clad in her nightshirt, her black plait streaming like a banner behind her. ‘What the hell is going on in here?’ She stopped short. ‘Colin!’
‘Cindy was trying to murder Hannah,’ Colin said almost conversationally. ‘I think you better call the police.’
Desiree stood transfixed, her face drained of color, looking shell-shocked.
‘The police, Desiree?’ Colin prodded. ‘We can explain later.’
‘Right. The police.’ She turned to go. ‘Just what we need. The police.’
‘And tell Mark we need him down here, too,’ Colin added.
‘Police. Mark,’ she muttered, as if making a list. ‘All I want is to run a simple bud and breakfast, no drama, and look what I get.’ More choice words ensued, uttering any one of which would have landed my daughter in time-out for life.
At my insistence, Colin fetched a napkin from the sideboard and used it to bandage Cindy’s injured hand.
‘You’ll do well in the Navy, Midshipman McDaniel,’ I said, massaging a sore spot on my ribs. ‘You get points for being a take-charge kind of guy.’
‘That’s all well and good, Mrs Ives, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it.’
‘What? No letters of appreciation to the Commandant of Midshipmen?’
‘Especially to the Commandant of Midshipmen.’
Without taking his eyes off Cindy, Colin edged back the sideboard to fetch me more water.
Fine, I’d told him. I’m fine. But my head throbbed, my eyes burned, my throat ached and my ribs felt like someone had used them for batting practice. I shifted in the chair, unable to suppress a moan.
Even though the grand staircase was carpeted, Mark’s emergency descent echoed through the house like rolling thunder. Wearing the undershirt and boxer shorts he’d apparently been sleeping in, he burst into the solarium. ‘What’s happened? Where’s Cindy?’
Colin pointed.
Mark’s head snapped around.
‘He knew, Mark,’ Cindy whined when she caught sight of her husband. ‘Somehow that horrible man knew.’
‘Knew what, sweetheart?’ Mark soothed. He leaned over his wife, his hand extended. ‘C’mon, let me help you up.’
Using her good hand, she grasped his, like a drowning woman. He pulled her to her feet and folded her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head, stroking her hair.
‘I want you to be happy, that’s all,’ Cindy sobbed. ‘You hated politics – you can’t pretend that you didn’t. Football is your life. The Maryland job was a dream come true.’ She gulped air. ‘Daniel was going to take it all, all away,’ she blubbered into his chest.
Eyes wide, Mark appealed to me. ‘What’s she talking about, Hannah?’
‘I think Cindy’s confessing to murdering Daniel,’ I said.
‘She’d just tried …’ Colin began, but I silenced him with a death ray. Mark had enough on his plate to deal with just then. The attempted murder of me would have to wait.
With one beefy finger, Mark touched his wife’s chin and tipped her face up gently. ‘That’s total bullshit, isn’t it, sweetheart?’ he said, looking directly into her eyes. ‘Tell them, Cindy.’
Cindy sucked in her lips, wagged her head slowly.
Mark’s face d
rained of color as the awful truth dawned. ‘He suspected I had CTE?’
‘Daniel was a biologist,’ I explained. ‘Before he moved to North Carolina, he taught at Boston University. He had to know about the brain bank and the research going on there. Maybe he maintained his contacts and one of them let something slip about your will. Then again, maybe Daniel simply guessed.’
Mark slumped. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘No,’ I answered truthfully. ‘Maybe to a medical professional, or your nearest and dearest, but to the rest of us, you’re just a little forgetful. Early days yet, I’d say.’
Mark led Cindy to a chair. After he’d convinced her to sit down, he stood behind it protectively, gripping the back with both hands. ‘It’s going to get worse, they tell me.’
I nodded.
‘In the time I’ve got left, I’d like to make a difference.’
‘Carpe diem,’ I said.
After what I’d learned, a good start would be banning football forever. Yet, boxers still squared off in the ring. Cyclists flipped out in motocross. Climbers froze to death on Mount Everest. Cowboys straddled bucking bulls. And a skydiver’s parachute didn’t always open.
As if reading my mind, Mark said, ‘If we’re going to fix it, we need to work from within.’
‘Mark …’ I began, but Colin, who’d been standing lookout at the door, interrupted. ‘They’re here,’ he said, stepping aside.
This time, Detective Jacobs was not alone. He was accompanied by a rumpled and sleepy-eyed assistant, her hair twisted up in a careless knot and secured with a black plastic claw. In the brightly lit hallway behind them, Desiree and Austin consulted, exchanging worried glances. Desiree gave Austin a gentle shove. Once he was on his way toward the solarium, she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
‘Sergeant Timmons,’ Jacobs said, introducing his sidekick. His eyes scanned the room and alighted on Colin. ‘Who are you? Everyone else I know.’
‘McDaniel, sir. Colin.’
Jacobs nodded. ‘Ah, the prodigal son has returned.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Don’t go anywhere. I need to talk to you.’
Colin bowed his head deferentially, then stepped back, as if trying to blend into the wallpaper.
Jacobs executed an about-face. ‘Somebody kindly explain why I’m here at this ungodly hour of the morning.’
‘Cindy and I had a bit of a confrontation,’ I said with a warning glance at Colin. ‘She’s confessed to killing Daniel.’
Cindy’s head sagged. Her body heaved with sobs. ‘I, I, I …’ she began.
‘Hush, Cindy,’ Mark warned, placing a hand on her shoulder, leaning close and speaking in her ear. ‘You don’t have to say anything.’
Mark looked up. ‘My wife would like to contact her attorney.’
Jacobs shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. We can continue this discussion down at the station.’
Mark patted his boxers, his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.
‘You can use my phone,’ I said, taking pity on the man, standing there in his underwear. I reached for my handbag, which lay nearly forgotten under the chair I’d been sitting in.
Mark waved the offer away. ‘Number’s in the phone up in my room. May I get it?’
Jacobs nodded.
Mark bent down and whispered something in Cindy’s ear. When he straightened again, he said, ‘I forbid you to ask Cindy any questions until I’ve returned.’
Jacobs shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
After Mark left, Sergeant Timmons moved into position behind Cindy’s chair, keeping watch, remaining silent.
‘Now, I’d like to hear what you have to say,’ Jacobs said, turning to me. He aimed a finger at Colin and Austin. ‘You two, stay here. And give that woman some water or something. I’ll talk with you later.’
He motioned me into the sitting room and indicated that I should sit on the loveseat. The same loveseat where he’d interviewed Claire and me – gosh, how could it have been only two days ago? He pulled up a side chair, sat down, whipped out his notebook, pinned me to the loveseat with his sharp blue eyes …
And I told him everything. Or, almost everything.
‘I’m ninety-nine-one-hundredth’s-percent sure that Mark had nothing to do with Daniel’s death,’ I concluded. ‘In her confession to me, Cindy made it clear that she’d acted alone.’
‘That fits with what Mark told us earlier,’ Jacobs said. ‘That he had gone to bed with a headache, leaving Cindy downstairs in the solarium.’ He chewed thoughtfully on the retractor end of his ballpoint pen.
‘Cindy must have gone nuts,’ I said. ‘By silencing Daniel permanently, she thought she’d protect her husband’s coaching career. Backfired big time, though. It’ll all come out now, won’t it? And when the disease really takes hold, how is she going to take care of Mark from a prison cell in Colorado?’
‘Is there family?’ Jacobs wanted to know.
‘I have no idea,’ I said. ‘I met them for the first time this weekend.’ After a moment of silence, I said, ‘Cindy’s confession took me completely by surprise. I’d theorized that the robbery and Daniel’s murder were connected, but it seemed clear from my conversation with her that Cindy had nothing to do with robbing the safe.’
Jacobs snorted. ‘You’re right about that.’ He paused, studying me speculatively, as if weighing how much to tell me. ‘You’ll find out about it soon enough, anyway, as soon as I tell the Nortons. Late yesterday, we made an arrest in the payroll heist.’
He followed this bombshell with a pregnant pause – deliberate, I thought, just to torment me.
I bit. ‘Well, Detective Jacobs? Are you going to keep me in suspense?’
‘The Nortons should be more scrupulous in hiring security personnel,’ he said.
‘The Pawlowski brothers?’
Jacobs nodded. ‘For a couple of security guys, it was a rookie mistake. We lifted Borys’ fingerprints from a drawer inside the safe. That was enough probable cause to get a search warrant. We recovered the money from a suitcase inside the apartment the two brothers shared.’
‘I ran into Borys in the hallway that night,’ I reminded him, ‘but he wasn’t carrying anything, so he must have come back later for the money. I wondered if he showed up on the security cameras.’
Jacobs shook his head. ‘Being security, Borys knew how to avoid them. That was another thing that aroused my suspicion.’
‘The dog that didn’t bark in the nighttime,’ I said.
Jacobs favored me with a rare smile. ‘Something like that.’
‘Were the boys in cahoots?’
‘Boys? Ha!’ Jacobs snorted. ‘They’re almost forty years old.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I picked that up from Marilyn Brignole. That’s what she calls them.’
‘The younger one, Nick Pawlowski, found the combination to the safe. Bragged about how smart he was. Borys did all the heavy lifting, while Nick waited for him in a car parked around the block. Smoking a cigarette,’ he added. ‘License plate clearly identifiable.’ He smiled. ‘We picked that up on one of the neighbor’s security cams.’
‘What a dumb thing to do! They had to know they’d be suspected. Why’d they take the risk?’
‘They love their mother,’ Jacobs said simply. ‘She was getting on in years and was starting to feel isolated out in the country. Had her heart set on moving into a little apartment in old town Ljubljana. Mati had scrimped and saved all her life, Nick told me, so they promised to buy into it for her.’
‘Why didn’t they simply bring Mati to the States?’ I asked.
Jacobs shrugged. ‘Mati visited Denver once. Hated every minute. The altitude got to her.’
At more than five thousand feet above sea level, I knew that Denver had seventeen percent less oxygen than cities lower down, but the altitude hadn’t bothered me. ‘In what way?’ I asked.
‘Shortness of breath, Borys said, and constant fatigue. She couldn�
�t shake the headaches.’
‘What happens now?’ I asked.
Jacobs slotted the pen into his pocket and tucked the notebook away. ‘“The millstones of justice turn exceedingly slow, but grind exceedingly fine,”’ he quoted. ‘John Bannister Gibson.’
‘“We only get the stupid villains. The bright ones are all on holiday in Majorca,”’ I quoted back. ‘Rumpole of the Bailey.’
As dawn was breaking, while the rest of the house still slept, Sergeant Timmons zipped Cindy up in plastic hand restraints and escorted her down the flagstone path from the front door of Bell House to Jacobs’ patrol car. Mark followed a few steps behind.
We huddled together on the stoop, watching as Timmons wrenched the door open, placed one hand gently on Cindy’s head and eased her inside. After the door closed behind her, Cindy leaned wearily against the window, staring vacantly ahead.
Mark remained rooted to the sidewalk, following the vehicle with his eyes as it, with Jacobs at the wheel, whisked his wife away. After a quiet moment he rejoined us, his eyes brimming.
Austin tugged on Mark’s arm. ‘C’mon, man. I’ll drive you to the station.’
Desiree dangled a set of car keys. ‘Take my Beemer, Austin. It’s in the back.’
‘Thank goodness there are no kids,’ Colin said when Mark was out of earshot.
‘I wondered about that,’ I said.
‘Mark’s parents are still alive, though, and he’s got a bunch of siblings …’ The rest of Colin’s sentence was lost as we turned to follow Desiree back into the house.
We paused in the foyer. ‘I didn’t know you knew the Kings so well, Colin.’
‘That night in the solarium? We had a good talk, Mark and me. I’d seen him play, actually. In the Dolphins Stadium – they call it the Hard Rock, now – when I was a kid.
‘After Mark sacked out, Cindy and I shared a joint – some pretty awesome weed called Skywalker, I think. She was in a great mood, singing along with the professor and me for a while, then I thought she’d disappeared. Maybe if I hadn’t split when I did, none of this would have happened.’
‘You can’t know that,’ I said, smiling reassuringly. ‘Besides, you made up for it tonight.’
Mile High Murder Page 19
