well) that Lorraine’s putting on the topaz ring that Sunday could be attributed to her ostentatious nature.
Very likely because it was the only explanation that occurred to me. But as I’d come to appreciate last
night, this really wasn’t logical.
Listen, it was apparent that Bobbie Jean’s murder
had been carefully planned. And while Lorraine might
be incredibly showy, she was also a very sharp lady. So why would she take the time to fiddle with that
ring of hers while carrying out the serious business of poisoning her longtime enemy?
Which question is what led me to the sleep-induced
realization that the ring had be an essential element of Lorraine Corwin’s plot.
I gave thanks to the powers that be that I’d paid
attention in history class the day Mr. Fenstermacher
told us about Lucretia Borgia, that devious member
of fifteenth-(or was it sixteenth-?) century Italian no
bility, who’d employed her ring to carry death to her foes. In fact, at the time, I remember thinking what a wonderful idea this was and lining up a few candidates
for future consideration.
Naturally, having experienced this epiphany, it was
impossible for me to fall back to sleep that morning. I was too wound up to even try.
Getting out of bed, I went into the kitchen and
made some coffee. I stood over the glass container,
watching it fill up but not really seeing it. What I did
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see was that enormous topaz ring, its secret compart
ment wide open and packed almost to overflowing
with little shreds of monkshood leaves. I mean, shades
of that Borgia woman!
At any rate, a couple of minutes later, coffee cup
in hand, I sat down at the kitchen table to reconstruct
the crime, making a couple of important changes to
my original assessment.
I could now envision Lorraine emptying the monks
hood from the hidden compartment in her ring into
Bobbie Jean’s salad. What quicker, more efficient way
to dispense a poison? (And how that must have ap
pealed to Lorraine’s flair for the dramatic!) I then
pictured her snapping the compartment shut and hast
ily mixing in the bits of leaves with the gloved fore
finger of her left hand, just as I’d imagined before. This accomplished, she would have hurried across the
hall to the powder room.
Naturally, I couldn’t be sure of her next move. But since there was at least the chance—even if a minis
cule one—that some tiny pieces of monkshood had
found their way onto the exterior of the ring, it was hard to believe the woman would risk transferring it to her bare skin without first taking precautions. So in this updated version of my script, I had her slip the
ring from her pinkie and wash it thoroughly with soap
and hot water—keeping the gloves on for protection,
of course.
And now I played devil’s advocate. But what if someone should happen to walk in on her while she was engaged in tidying up? I put to myself. Or suppose the powder room attendant should notice her scrubbing away like that?
I decided this wasn’t a problem. Lorraine could sim
ply claim that she’d just handled this very sticky
hors d’oeuvre.
On second thought, however, it was possible none
of this was necessary. Maybe there was some kind of cleaning solution for the ring sitting in her handbag. Anyway, the rest of the scenario remained pretty
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much unchanged from the original. In the privacy of
a stall, she’d have removed the gloves and deposited them in the plastic bag she carried in her purse. After
which she would have put on the ring again, this time
transferring it to another finger—the third, as I re
called—where it no doubt fit better once the gloves
were eliminated.
I leaned back in the chair at that moment, satisfied that I had it straight at last.
As eager as I was to provide Chief Porchow with
this latest—and accurate—version of the homicide
(plus, as a by-product, dazzle the man with the bril
liance of my reasoning processes), I elected to wait until nine before trying to reach him. I mean, I consid
ered it unlikely that the top guy in the department would have assigned himself to night duty.
Come eight fifty-five, however, I was too antsy to
contain myself any longer. I lifted the receiver.
A funny thing, though. The instant I began dialing
the Forsythe station house, my entire body turned
cold. Suddenly I had the premonition that I’d find
myself up against a brick wall again.
It required a major effort to ignore the invisible
hand that was clutching at my chest. Certainly, I as
sured myself, Chief Porchow would determine that
this new theory had to be explored. . . .
The chief wasn’t in, I was told by the woman who
took the call. A snap of her gum immediately enabled
me to identify the owner of the voice.
‘‘Is he expected today?’’
‘‘Yeah, at around ten thirty. You wanta leave a
message?’’
‘‘Yes, thanks. Would you please tell him that De
siree Shapiro phoned and that it is absolutely urgent that I speak to him as soon as he gets in.’’ I gave her my number, after which, at her request, I spelled out my last name—twice. ‘‘Desiree’’ required a third
spelling.
During the next hour and a half, I put on my
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clothes, had some breakfast (which I could barely get down), and then tackled Sunday’s New York Times crossword puzzle. And let me tell you, if I should ever
feel the need to be brought down a peg, it’s reassuring
to know that the Sunday Times crossword can accom
modate me.
Porchow returned my call promptly at ten thirty.
‘‘This is Chief Porchow. I understand there’s some
thing urgent you want to talk to me about.’’ I don’t say that he sounded unfriendly. But I can’t say he
sounded friendly, either.
‘‘Yes, I do. And you were absolutely right,’’ I an
nounced, doing my best to pave the way for a favor
able response to what I was preparing to lay on him.
‘‘Well, that’s a novelty,’’ he commented dryly. ‘‘And
just what was I right about?’’
‘‘You pointed out that it wasn’t logical that Lorraine
Corwin would put on the ring that day. And in spite of my attempts at rationalization, I finally came to
agree with you. Well, then I started wracking my brain
as to why she would have worn it.’’ I paused long
enough to convey to the man that he was about to
hear something momentous.
‘‘And your conclusion?’’ But Porchow seemed al
most disinterested.
‘‘The ring was the murder weapon.’’
‘‘The what? ’’ The man had become an instant
soprano.
‘‘It had to be. Why else would she saddle herself
with it? And just consider the size of that thing—it was the perfect container for the monkshood leaves.’’
And now I reminded him about the infamous Duchess
of Ferrara, a.k.a. Lucrezia Borgia. Then before
he
could comment, I gave a short, amended account of
the poisoning itself and the cleanup that followed it. I concluded with, ‘‘I don’t believe I’d ever have fig
ured all of this out, though, if you hadn’t questioned the presence of the ring to start with.’’
‘‘I’m not immune to flattery, Ms. Shapiro, and I
thank you for the kind words. But I hope you realize
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that what you’ve just told me is, once again, nothing more than a theory.’’
‘‘Well, yes, but—’’
‘‘And what, exactly, are you proposing I do about
it, anyway?’’
‘‘Listen, I believe that there’s a really good chance Miss Corwin is still in possession of the ring. I mean, she’s probably pretty attached to it—in its own way, it’s actually quite stunning—and as far as she’s aware,
no one’s associated it with the poisoning. So why get rid of the thing? Also, I’m sure she figures she washed
away any evidence of the monkshood.’’
‘‘Your point being—?’’
‘‘That there might still be some trace of the stuff inside that compartment. So if you obtained a search warrant, it—’’
‘‘Hold it, Ms. Shapiro. I can’t ask for a search war
rant on the basis of what you’re suggesting. You don’t
even know if the ring has a secret compartment. And even if I were inclined to try and obtain a warrant, no judge of my acquaintance would consider issuing
one.’’
‘‘Look, you were telling me the other day that there
wasn’t any proof of Lorraine Corwin’s guilt. But how am I supposed to get you that proof?’’
‘‘You aren’t, remember? Obviously, you’re not con
vinced of this, but the Forsythe Police Department is fully capable of apprehending the perpetrator. So just back off, and let us do our jobs here.’’
‘‘But you could at least take a crack at getting that warrant,’’ I whined.
‘‘I was under the impression I’d made myself clear.
You want me to do something that I’m simply not
able to do.’’ His voice became sterner. ‘‘Incidentally, Ms. Shapiro, I find it unbelievable that you’d have the
gall to request anything from me at all, considering that you’ve been hampering this investigation from the
very beginning.’’
‘‘If you’re referring to my telling you that Mrs. Lyn
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229
ton and I were constantly together at the shower, well,
I know you think I was lying, but—’’
‘‘ Think was the other day. Now I know.’’
‘‘What—’’
‘‘Good-bye, Ms. Shapiro.’’ And Chief Porchow gen
tly put down the phone.
It was past ten thirty when I got to the office on Tuesday. Almost immediately I was aware that I’d
done the unforgivable: neglected to contact Jackie to inform her that I’d be late. I mean, experience has taught me that Jackie places such an oversight on a par with kicking a puppy or stealing from the collec
tion plate.
Anyway, I was immediately confronted with a hos
tile expression, blazing eyes, and a ‘‘Where have you been? ’’ uttered from behind clenched teeth.
‘‘Don’t be mad, Jackie. I should have phoned, but,
well, I guess I forgot. Everything just seemed to get away from me today. I’d been up most of the night, and then this morning I had a very upsetting talk with
the Forsythe chief of police, and—’’
‘‘Do you have even the slightest inkling of how wor
ried I was?’’ Jackie demanded shrilly.
‘‘I’m really sorry, but as I said—’’
‘‘I called your apartment twice, and no answer. I
presume you must have already left by then. Another
minute or two, though, and I would have contacted
your friend Harriet and asked her to check on you.’’
She thrust a pink message slip at me. ‘‘It’s from Alli
son. She called at nine forty-six. She wants you to get back to her.’’
I was tempted to remind Jackie that I could read.
But plainly, this was not the time.
‘‘I couldn’t even tell the woman when you were
expected,’’ she grumbled. Which prompted me to en
gage in a little teeth-clenching myself. I mean, enough
was enough. Then unexpectedly, Jackie’s tone soft
ened. ‘‘How was your holiday?’’
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I realized the question was meant as a lead-in to
my inquiring about her holiday. But all she got from me before I walked away was a terse, ‘‘It was okay,’’
followed by a peremptory, ‘‘See you later.’’
I dialed the number reluctantly. I was fairly certain I knew what Allison wanted to discuss with me, and
I dreaded having this confirmed. Which it was—almost
as soon as she answered the phone.
‘‘Oh, Desiree.’’ The catch in her voice led me to
suspect that she’d been crying. ‘‘Chief Porchow was
here a little while ago. Apparently he’s located some
body—one of the shower guests—who saw me re
turning from the powder room alone not very long
before we were all called in to lunch.’’ And here Alli
son sniffled a few times, which removed any doubt
that she’d been crying.
‘‘Did you pass anyone in the corridor?’’
‘‘I don’t think so. But anybody standing at that end
of the Minerva Room might have noticed me coming
down the hall.’’
‘‘What did you say to Porchow?’’
‘‘I said the woman—whoever she is—was mis
taken.’’
‘‘Good.’’
‘‘Umm, there’s something I should tell you, Desiree.
When Chief Porchow initially inquired about my
movements prior to the group’s entering the dining
room, I said that I’d been with you the entire time. But I promise you this wasn’t to deceive the man.
That brief trip to the restroom just didn’t occur to me.
I imagine I sort of sloughed off the question, most probably because I had no idea I was a serious sus
pect—or, at least, that I soon would be. During their second visit, though, the police were a bit more spe
cific. The chief wanted to know if I was certain neither
of us had even gone to the ladies’ room by ourselves during the cocktail hour. And that’s when it came to me. But of course, I had just learned that I’d become the focus of the investigation. And while I’m hardly
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231
proud of myself, quite frankly, I was too shaken to admit the truth.
‘‘However, I never meant to put you in the position
of lying for me. That’s why, when I came to consult with you regarding my . . . my revised status with the Forsythe Police Department, I didn’t bring up having
given them misinformation. I was very concerned that
you might consider any mention of that as an attempt
to induce you to back me up. In actuality, though, I fully anticipated that when you were asked about this,
you’d provide an honest recounting of the facts. And at the point that I was confronted with your version, I
intended to claim that our short separation had simply
slipped my mind. Which is, after all, precisely what happened—at first, at any rate. But I assume that, for
some reason, the poli
ce have delayed interrogating
you about my whereabouts.’’
‘‘No, Porchow spoke to me about that last week.
And I assured him that you and I had been like Sia
mese twins right up until the meal was served.’’
‘‘God, Desiree. I didn’t expect— I can’t allow you
to do this, you know. You have your professional rep
utation to think about and—’’
‘‘It’s already done. And, listen, I didn’t do it for you. I acted out of self-preservation. The thought of you sitting in prison, stamping out license plates,
would have caused me nightmares.’’
Allison managed a laugh. But in a second or two
she turned serious again. ‘‘This witness . . . how much
weight do you suppose her statement will carry?’’
‘‘Look, it’s just her word against ours. But even if it could be definitely established that you walked
down that hall at what was approximately the requisite
time, it still wouldn’t prove that you committed the murder. You’re in no worse shape than you were be
fore Ms. Big Mouth came along.’’
‘‘Do you really believe that?’’ Allison asked softly.
‘‘Yes, I do.’’ But my palms were moist when I said the words.
Chapter 38
I was brain-drained by the time I got home Tuesday
evening.
After my talk with Allison, I’d spent the better part
of the day trying to devise some sort of plan that would help me establish Lorraine Corwin’s guilt. The
best I could come up with—and I’m not claiming it
had success written all over it—was simply to sit down
with Allison and tell her all I knew. Maybe once I got her to accept her friend’s culpability, she’d reveal something incriminating about the woman, something
she either hadn’t thought to or hadn’t wanted to men
tion before.
Plus, I was still hoping that something would come
of Dominick Gallo and friend. But it’s not exactly as if this could be regarded as money in the bank, either.
At any rate, I had no sooner sat down to what re
mained of that dinner with Ellen and Mike than a
skinny little man with a surly expression rang my
doorbell and delivered a surprise: a stunning bouquet of cymbidium orchids.
Imagine!
Before placing them in a more appropriate setting,
I had the orchids share the kitchen table with me
while I ate. Not that I paid much attention to the food.
I was too busy admiring the flowers and replaying in my head the message that came with them. The card
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