As Des studied Les’s sagging self there at the window, it occurred to her that he had not denied having a girlfriend. In fact, he had managed to avoid the question entirely. All of which translated to this: She could easily like him for plotting to kill Norma, and then killing Ada because she’d somehow stumbled upon what he’d done. Des could like him a lot. After all, $200,000 could buy a lot of happiness. And yet she also could not help shaking the nagging feeling that Les had been much better off with Norma alive than dead.
Her cell phone squawked now.
She thanked Les and asked him to return to his room. He did not pause on his way out to take one last look at Norma. Just oozed on out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He had not been able to look at her the whole time he was in there.
“Resident Trooper Mitry,” she said into her phone.
“Yo, Master Sergeant,” a voice exclaimed in her ear, the connection crackly but plenty audible. “I understand you’ve got yourself a situation.”
“You understand right, wow man,” Des responded, smiling. The voice belonged to Lieutenant Rico “Soave” Tedone, the stumpy young bodybuilder who had been her sergeant back when she was a lieutenant on the Major Crime Squad.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you’re glad to hear my voice.”
“Ultra-glad, Rico,” she said. Which, for a time, had not been true. They’d had their difficulties. But Soave had grown up a lot since then. They both had. “Is this your case?”
“Just got the call,” he confirmed. “Not that I can get to the damned case. What have you got for me, Des?”
“Two dead, Rico. A mother and daughter. One’s a strangulation, the other’s an I-don’t-know-what. But she was helped along, I’m sure of it.” Des walked him though the details, keeping her comments brief and precise. “I’ve got the situation under control. Witnesses are separated. I’m in the process of taking their statements now.”
“And maybe doing a little bit more, if I know you.”
“For backup, I’ve got Mitch.”
“Who, Berger? He’s up there?”
“He is,” she replied, knowing what this was all about. Soave was a happily married man these days-he and his high school sweetheart, Tawny, had finally tied the knot on their epic nine-year courtship. But he had been extremely warm for Des’s bootylicious form when they were teamed together, had gotten nowhere, and still could not believe that she had fallen for Mitch.
“And how’s that going?” he wondered.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I’ve heard you sound happier in your day.”
“Rico, I’ve just lost two people I liked. I’m stranded, I’m cold, I could use a hot bath. What’s your situation? Where are you?”
“Trapped in fuzzy pink hell, that’s where.”
“Um, okay, you’ll have to translate that.”
“I’m home,” he said heavily. Home being the vinyl-sided raised ranch in Glastonbury that he and Tawny had just bought. Her parents lived right around the corner.
“And this is bad because…?”
“Tawny was having a baby shower here last night for her cousin Ashley.”
“Little Ashley or big Ashley?”
“Big Ashley. Little Ashley wouldn’t come. They don’t speak. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, I’m talking horror show, okay? Tawny’s three sisters, her eight cousins, another dozen friends. And about nine o’clock, when they’re deep into the banana daiquiris, this giant tree comes crashing down at the end of the cul-de-sac, okay? Street’s totally blocked off. No power, no heat…”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with this phenomenon.”
“A few of ’em live close by, thank God. The rest had to bunk here for the night. They’re still here, Des. It’s like one giant slumber party out there. You’ve never heard so much giggling and screaming in your life.”
“I have, too, Rico. I started out life as a girl, remember?”
“I’m hiding here in my weight room and praying for a break in the weather.”
“How about Yolie?” Yolie being Sergeant Yolanda Snipes, his half-black, half-Cuban partner.
“She’s at her apartment in Meriden, chewing on her hands and feet. That girl hates being on the sideline. We’re both raring to go. Soon as the plow comes through, she’ll pick me up at the end of my block in her Blazer. Route nine is supposed to be okay. Way slow, but we’ll get there. I just can’t promise when. We may be talking two, three hours.”
“Rico, you may want to rethink this plan.”
“Why?”
“For starters, because you’ll end up flipped over in a ditch somewhere.”
“No way. Yolie’s a sweet wheelman.”
“And even if you do get here, the private drive up to the castle is blocked off. You’ll have to hike three miles up a mountain, climb your way over dozens of downed trees. You’re looking at another hour on foot, easy.”
“Well, hell, that’s no good,” he admitted. “Time out, are you thinking what I’m thinking? Of course you are-SP-One, right?”
“Any chance we rate a fly-in?”
“Are you kidding me? The state police spent millions on that damned chopper. They’ll be thrilled to have any excuse to use it. Only, it’s grounded in this weather.”
“True, but if the snow and wind taper off in the next hour or two, you’ll still get here faster and safer than you will by car. What is it, a twenty-minute flight from headquarters?”
“Give or take. Is there a place to land up there?”
“A great big beautiful parking lot.”
“Excellent. I am on this, Des. I’ll find out what they need in terms of weather. But you got to give me something else to do, because I am going crazy here. Is there anyone I can call?”
“There is, Rico. See if you can track down a New Haven cardiologist named Lavin, first name Mark. He was treating Norma Josephson. Find out how serious her heart condition was. And see what you can learn about this digoxin he had her taking. As in what would happen to her if her dosage were dramatically altered without her knowledge. Or with her knowledge, for that matter.”
“You saying suicide is a possibility?”
“Rico, it’s all in play right now.”
“You think the digoxin is what did her in?”
“Call it my best guess, until an autopsy proves otherwise. The only hitch is that her pill intake seems to be right on schedule.”
“Maybe someone got a hold of some extra pills. Where did she fill her prescription?”
“Locally, Dorset Pharmacy. It’s a one-man operation. Pharmacist’s name is Tom Maynard. I doubt he’ll be open, but you may be able to reach him by phone. If you do, find out if anything irregular has been going on lately with Norma’s prescriptions.”
“Des, you know we can’t access her medical records without a search warrant. And I can’t exactly get to no judge right now.”
“I hear you, but this is a small town, Rico. Everybody knows everybody. He might remember something and volunteer it. It’s worth a try.”
“Consider it done. And I’ll call Connecticut Light and Power’s war room. Let ’em know you have a police emergency up there. Maybe we can get you bumped up to a higher priority. I’ll call you back in a few. Hey, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“About what, Rico?”
“Having the situation under control.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You said it yourself-you started out life as a girl. Girls consider it a sign of weakness to ask anyone for help. Guys, we don’t have that problem. We need a hand, we say so right up front, on account of how we’re more secure about ourselves.”
“Wait, could you talk just a little bit slower? I want to make sure I write all of this down.”
“Go ahead and laugh. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Rico, I’m fine.”
She flicked off her phone and went back out into the hall, where Mitch glanced up at her
alertly from his post. “All quiet?” she asked him.
“It’s so quiet I can hear the mice in the walls,” he replied, beaming at her.
“Gee, thanks large for sharing that with me, baby.”
“I share. That’s what I do.”
Hannah was in room four, next door to Teddy. She’d double-locked her door from the inside. Des had to wait for her to get up and let her in. After she had, Hannah burrowed back under the quilt on her bed, looking pale, cold and frightened. The large-format paperback she was clutching, Hollywood Dreams, was a collection of Ada Geiger’s screenplays, with an introduction by one Mitchell Berger.
“I’m still trying to figure that old woman out,” Hannah confessed, gazing down at it through her round glasses. “There was just such a difference between her work and her. I mean, her movies were so forgiving of human weakness. And Ada herself was just so not?
“She was young when she made those movies. Not much older than you and I are now.”
“True,” Hannah acknowledged. “But she just seemed so intolerant.”
“She was ninety-four. Her time was running short, and she didn’t want to waste any of it on people who weren’t worth the bother. Older people get impatient that way. I’ve encountered it before.” Des sat in the chair by the fireplace, stuffing her hands deep into her coat pockets. “Did you leave this room for any reason last night?”
“Are you kidding me? It was pitch-black, freezing cold. I didn’t so much as leave this bed. Why would I?”
“You tell me,” Des said, raising her chin at her.
Hannah reddened. “Oh, I see. You’re wondering about Aaron and me, aren’t you?”
Des didn’t answer, just gazed at her intently.
Hannah let her breath out slowly and said, “He told me that Carly is a very light sleeper, so I should just forget about us being together while we’re here. Which I am fine with. It would be totally disgusting for us to be doing anything with her right across the hall, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know. My field is the law, not personal virtue.”
“Pretty much one and the same thing, aren’t they?”
“So you were alone all night?”
“Unless Danielle counts as company,” she replied, tugging a tattered Danielle Steele paperback romance novel out from under her quilt. “She’s gotten me through many a cold, lonely night. You’re probably surprised that I read her. I could tell you that it’s some kind of kitschy, ironic thing on my part, but it’s not. I just love her books. They’re so visual. I’d give anything to film one someday.”
“So why don’t you?”
Hannah stared at her. “Do you have any idea how much money that would cost? The rights alone would be huge. No one’s going to give me a project like that to direct.”
Then again, Des reflected, it might be another matter entirely if the young director were able to raise a lot of that money herself. Which she could do if she had herself a patron like Aaron Ackerman on the hook, a man who it so happened was just about to get way rich. Just exactly how ambitious was Hannah Lane? How hungry to succeed? She had no problem getting freaky for Aaron. Would she have any problem killing for him? “Hannah, did you hear anyone coming or going out in the hall last night?”
“I was asleep.”
“You didn’t hear any doors open or close?”
“I was asleep.” A defensive edge crept into her voice. “I just told you.
“That’s right, you did,” Des said, wondering whether Hannah was telling her the truth or not. Maybe she and Aaron were playing in the dirt together last night. Maybe they were doing a whole lot more than that together.
Des didn’t know. Not yet. She thanked Hannah Lane and went back out in the hall and tapped on the door to room nine.
Jory Hearn called out for her to come in. Jory was seated on the bed, propped up against the headboard, wearing the quilt like a poncho. Her arms were folded tightly in front of her chest, her chin stuck out.
Des stood there in the doorway watching her. The grim-faced young redhead wasn’t looking back at Des. She was busy gazing around at the room, as if she were trying to memorize every last detail of it while she still had the chance. She reminded Des of a high school girl taking stock of her old bedroom the night before she was to leave for college. Des had certainly done this in her own little bedroom in Kensington the night before she went off to West Point, one part excited, two parts scared to death.
“I understand that Norma was up and down a lot in the night,” Des said for starters. “That she didn’t sleep well as a rule.”
“Yeah, she almost always got up.” Jory’s voice sounded hollow and rather small. “When I’d come in to start breakfast, I’d often find a list of chores on the kitchen table that she’d left for me at like four in the morning. ‘Norma’s Little Reminders,’ I called them.”
“Did she leave you one this morning?”
Jory shook her head.
“Did she leave anything out for you this morning?”
Jory frowned, glancing at Des curiously. “Like what?”
“Like something to indicate that she’d been up in the night. A saucepan, maybe a mug. I’m told she liked to make herself a cup of cocoa.”
“It’s true, she did.”
“Did she make herself any last night?”
“I didn’t notice anything. But I’m not positive, in all honesty.”
“Let’s go down and take a look, okay?”
They took the narrow service stairs down to the mudroom, where the smell of bacon and coffee still lingered in the air. The stove was cluttered with the dirty pots and pans from their uneaten breakfast. The bacon fat had congealed to a waxy consistency in the skillet.
“Can you remember how this kitchen looked when you came in, Jory?”
Jory looked around, considering her answer carefully. “Well, the dishes from last night were all in the dishwasher, and the sink was clear. The counter was clear, too.”
“Was there a pot on the stove?”
Jory shook her head.
Des’s eyes fell on the box of kitchen matches that they’d used to light the burners for breakfast. “How about spent matches?”
“I don’t remember seeing any.”
“When Norma made herself cocoa, did she usually clean up afterward?”
“She was an innkeeper. She never left a mess behind. Not in her nature.”
“She would have put her dishes in the dishwasher?”
“Most likely.”
Des opened it up and looked around inside. There were lots of plates and glasses, the serving dishes from dinner, a roasting pan, several Astrid’s Castle mugs. “There’s no saucepan in here,” she said.
“Actually, this is the one she usually used,” Jory said, indicating a one-quart no-stick pan that was hanging from a rack over the stove, clean and dry.
“Did she have a favorite mug?”
“Not really, no.”
Des pulled the roll of yellow crime scene tape from her coat pocket and stretched a length of it over the dishwasher door. “I’ll need for you to steer clear of this, okay?” We’ll want to examine the contents.”
“Sure, whatever,” Jory said, sighing despondently. It seemed as if the weight of the future had fallen on her like an anvil.
Des glanced out the kitchen windows at the snow that was coming down out in the courtyard. The footpath from the kitchen door across to Jory and Jase’s cottage was buried so deep under the fresh snowfall that it was impossible to tell where it even was. “How about you, Jory? Did you get up in the night?”
“I woke up a lot, that’s for sure.” A strand of red hair had come loose from Jory’s topknot. She twirled it around her finger distractedly. “Every time that damned wind brought down another tree, I mean, it sounded like the end of the world, you know? But I didn’t get up.”
“You can see right in here from your front windows,” Des observed.
“Yes, we can.”
“You didn’t notice a light in here last night, did you? A candle, a flashlight-any sign that Norma or someone else might have been up?”
“Someone else?” Jory peered at her, confused. “Like who?”
“Like Ada.”
“No, I didn’t see anything.”
“Do you have any idea whether Jase was up?”
“I’m not sure. You’d have to ask him.”
“Is Jase generally a sound sleeper?”
“Very. He works long, hard days.”
“He didn’t have any issues with Norma, did he?”
“None. Jase loved her dearly. We both did.”
“And both of you were in here when we heard Hannah scream, am I right?”
“Pretty much. I’d just brought out the oatmeal, and I was on my way back in here for a fresh coffeepot. Jase was over there in the mudroom,” she said, glancing at the open doorway. ’Td given him some Handi Wipes so he could tidy up, since Carly was being such a-” Jory broke off, curling her lip. “She was not being very kind.”
“I forget, was Les in here with you, too?”
“Do you mean when Hannah screamed? No, Les was still out in the dining room with you folks. He was bringing out the eggs, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” This jibed with Des’s own recollection. Which, by the way, happened to be perfect. “So in the moments just prior to Hannah’s scream, you, Jase and Les were all in here together?”
“Yes.”
“Was there any point when Les wasn’t in here with you?”
“Not really. He did go down to the laundry room for a few seconds.”
“Why did he do that?”
“To fetch a pile of fresh napkins. We were running low.”
“How many seconds was he down there?”
Jory shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “Twenty, maybe thirty?”
“And Jase?”
“Jase never left the mudroom.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’m positive. Des, do you mind if I ask you something now?”
“Not at all. Go right ahead.”
“I sort of heard you guys talking before in the taproom, but I wanted to make sure I heard it right.” Jory hesitated, clearing her throat uneasily. “Aaron’s the new boss of us, isn’t he?”
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