Death By Drama

by Abigail Keam

  Asa turned to Ashley. “We also got a sample of your DNA, Ashley.”

  “What?” Ashley froze in his seat.

  “You tossed a styrofoam coffee cup out on the street. One of my men, who was following you, picked it up.”

  “What are you trying to do here? Hurt my wife?” Peter fired at Asa.

  She handed the DNA report to Robin. “Would you like to read the results, Miss Robin?”

  Ashley jumped up and ran, but was blocked by Detective Kelly, who stepped in from the hallway.

  We all stood except for Robin, who was reading the report. Silently, it drifted from her hands onto the floor.

  Kelly entered the room and backed Ashley into his chair.

  “Thank you, Detective,” Asa said. “You all recognize Detective Kelly. He and several of his colleagues have been listening in the hall. We suspected someone might make a run for it.”

  Hunter acquired another chair and beckoned Kelly to sit.

  Kelly nodded and took his place in the circle.

  Asa smiled. “Detective Kelly will be joining us for the duration of our get-together. Everyone, please take your seats again.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would you do such a thing?” Robin implored Ashley.

  He refused to look at her.

  “What did the report say?” Deliah asked as she picked it up from the floor. She scanned it, her face growing pale.

  “Please read the results from the DNA test,” Asa instructed.

  Deliah looked with great tenderness at Robin, who was quietly weeping. “It says that Ashley and Robin are no match. Ashley is not Robin’s son.”

  All eyes turned upon Ashley.

  “Ashley, would you care to explain why you contacted Robin Russell and claimed to be her son?”

  “I was mistaken about the identity of my birth mother. Sorry, Robin.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Ashley. Is that your real name?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Remember the cup you threw on the ground? You threw other items on the ground as well, and they were all picked up by my people. You’re quite the litterbug, Ashley. Odd behavior for a person whose room is so clean. Almost OCD clean . . . and what’s up with the lock? Was it because you felt your roommates might sneak into your bedroom and stumble across the fact that you weren’t Ashley Moore?”

  Ashley’s eyes widened. “You’re the woman who I caught in my room. You bitch!”

  “Sticks and stones,” Asa said, grinning. “Where was I?”

  Detective Kelly offered, “You were telling Ashley that his bad habit of littering our fair city proved to be a boon for the police.”

  “Thank you, Detective Kelly.” Asa picked up another report from the sideboard. “Ashley, I took your trash to the good detective here, and he arranged for a fingerprint analysis after I showed him the DNA report. He ran your prints through the FBI’s AFIS system.”

  Ashley groaned.

  “Your real name is Robert Warren Biddle,” Asa confirmed.

  “You’re the cause of this. I’m not going to take the rap for you!” Ashley yelled.

  “Who’s he shouting at?” Franklin asked, looking around the room.

  Asa stood before Peter Russell. “Ashley is talking to you, isn’t he, Peter?”

  “Asa, stop. You’re going too far with this,” Robin said. “Peter, tell her she’s got the wrong man.”

  Asa gently took Robin’s arm and tried to pull her away from her husband.

  Several uniformed policemen entered the room and stood behind Peter.

  “Peter!” Robin cried, clinging to him.

  “Mother,” Asa beckoned.

  Both Franklin and I went over to Robin and led her to a couch in the corner of the room.

  “I’m so sorry, Robin,” I said, trying to comfort her.

  “Get away from me,” Robin hissed. “You’re trying to pin Madison’s death on Peter.”

  I felt awful. How do you tell a woman that her life has just shifted into the crap zone? I’ve been there. I know how it feels.

  “Madison wasn’t the target for murder, Robin. It was you,” I said.

  “You’re crazy,” Robin insisted.

  “This can’t be happening!” Ashley whined.

  Asa said to Ashley, “You want to give it up?”

  “Don’t,” warned Peter. “As long as you keep quiet, the police have nothing.”

  Ashley spoke. “I was his student. I was broke, and he knew it.”

  “To whom are you referring?” Detective Kelly asked.

  “Peter Russell.”

  “Shut up,” Peter growled. “Shut up.”

  Ashley sang like a bird. “He told me he wanted to play a joke on his wife. Some joke.”

  “What were your instructions?” Detective Kelly asked.

  “I was to play up to Robin. You know, be nice and get her attention.”

  “Get Robin to like you?” Asa asked.

  “Exactly. That was part of it. Then he told me about the kid she had at fifteen, and I was to convince her that I was her long-lost son.”

  Robin asked, “Peter, how did you even know I had a son as a teenager?”

  “I’m saying nothing.”

  “Go on,” Asa urged Ashley.

  “On the night Madison died, Peter met me in a parking lot before rehearsal and gave me a vial of liquid. He said it was vodka mixed with sugar. He wanted me to pour it into the juice bottle. It was to get everyone tipsy and then I was to take pictures. It was to be a practical joke.”

  The room was silent, probably because no one believed Ashley’s explanation. No one could be that dumb.

  Asa broke the silence with her question, “Did you mix the liquid with the cranberry juice?”

  “I was late, so I put some in the goblets, the decanter, and finally the juice bottle when no one was looking.”

  “How do you explain that your fingerprints weren’t on these items?”

  “I used the bottom of my t-shirt to lift the decanter top and unscrew the juice bottle. The goblets didn’t have a top, so I just put a few drops in each glass. Listen, if Madison didn’t drink from the goblets, I’m in the clear. I didn’t have anything to do with her murder.”

  Asa declared, “Mr. Russell’s right about one thing. Do shut up.”

  “This kid’s crazy. Look, he came to me and threatened to blackmail my wife, so I went along with him to keep him quiet. All this stuff about me hiring him is bunk.”

  “I believe it’s referred to as a long con.” I proposed.

  Detective Kelly chortled, but restored his cop face before asking, “Would you like to add anything else, Mr. Russell?”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  Deliah asked, “If Madison didn’t drink any cranberry juice that night, where did she get the poison?”

  “From Robin,” I answered.

  “That can’t be, Josiah,” Robin objected.

  “I’m sorry, dear, it is, but you were being poisoned too. The poison in the cranberry juice was a red herring. Peter hoped Ashley would leave his fingerprints on the juice bottle to create a distraction for the police, while the massive dose of ethylene glycol was hidden in your thermos.”

  “You bastard!” yelled Ashley. “You were trying to frame me for murder!”

  Ignoring Ashley’s outburst, I continued. “Ethylene glycol metabolizes into oxalic acid and combines with calcium in the body to form calcium oxalate crystals which are deposited in the kidneys. We know only Madison, Zion, and Robin had these crystals in their systems. Why? Because Robin, in a gesture of goodwill, shared her sangria with them during rehearsals. It was their little secret.”

  Zion agreed. “That’s right. Robin always brought enough alcohol for us to share throughout rehearsal.”

  John added, “I would surmise Madison’s behavior was difficult because the poison made her sick.”

  Deliah leaned forward in her seat. “But why is Madison dead and not Robin?”

  Asa took the lead on this quest
ion. “I guess Robin had built up some immunity to it over time, and Peter didn’t realize that ethanol in wine and hard liquor neutralizes ethylene glycol. I suspect Peter realized his mistake and put a massive dose of it in the thermos that night, and Madison drank more of it than Robin.”

  “I’m going to sue each and every one of you for defiling my good name,” Peter threatened. “You can’t prove a thing.”

  “But we can, Peter. I got suspicious when you kept trying to get Robin to drink a milkshake you brought to the hospital. When she wouldn’t drink it, you poured it out into the toilet and then rinsed out the container.”

  “I wanted Robin’s room to be neat,” Peter spluttered.

  “Yeah. What you don’t know, Peter, is that I waited until you left and snuck back into Robin’s room, retrieving the milkshake container along with Robin’s hair from her comb and her toothbrush. She was asleep, remember, so Robin didn’t see me.”

  Peter gave a chilling smile and said, “Any such evidence would be inadmissible in court.”

  “It’s funny that you haven’t asked what was found in the milkshake container, but then again, you already know. Antifreeze,” I said.

  “But antifreeze is green. The liquid he gave me was clear,” Ashley asserted.

  “Antifreeze is dyed green, but its main component, ethylene glycol, is colorless,” Detective Kelly said. “One of its many uses is to replace formaldehyde as a preservative for biological specimens. Don’t you teach biology, Mr. Russell?”

  Peter snarled, “Screw you!”

  “We took the liberty of searching your office and lab at the university while your wife was being discharged from the hospital this morning. We found invoices for ethylene glycol and several partially empty bottles of it. What we found to be most interesting was a life insurance policy on your wife for five hundred thousand dollars taped under your desk drawer.” Kelly pulled out his handcuffs. “Stand up, please. You are under arrest for the murder of Madison Smythe and the attempted murder of Robin Russell and Zion Foley.”

  Kelly cuffed Peter and spun him around to face him. “This is a real pleasure to book you. Boys, take him out and make sure you ‘Mirandize’ Mr. Russell. We don’t want this guy to get off because of any legal technicalities.”

  Hunter rushed over and clapped Franklin on the back. “It’s over, brother.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  Asa went over to Deliah and handed her a business card. “Call me if you get tired of selling cookware. I have a place for a gal with such obvious assets,” she said, referring to Deliah’s ample breasts. “But if you do want to work for me, cut out the dumbbell act. Smart women should never play stupid.”

  Deliah grinned and, grabbing the card, shoved it into her cleavage. “I’ll think about it.”

  I searched for Zion and Robin.

  Both were sitting, stunned.

  John was bending over Robin and speaking to her in low tones. He helped her to her feet while grabbing her purse.

  “Where’re you going, John?” I asked.

  “I’m driving Robin home and calling her doctor. I think she’s in shock.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m going to stay with Robin until someone in her family arrives. We both have suffered the loss of our spouses. I think it’s time for healing. Perhaps we can help each other.”

  Robin reached out to me. “Why? Why did he do it?”

  “You said you were having financial problems, Robin. This was Peter’s way of solving them.”

  John said, “Come on, Robin. I’m taking you home. We can talk all night long if you wish.” They passed by me—two broken people hanging on to each other to keep from drowning.

  I went to the window, watching John put Robin in his car and drive off.

  Zion followed as well, sneaking out without speaking to anyone.

  Asa came up behind me and put her arm around my shoulder.

  We sadly watched the police put Ashley in one police car and Peter in another.

  “What do you always say about justice, Mom?”

  “There’s justice, and then there’s Kentucky justice.”

  “I’ve always wondered what you meant by it.”

  “Justice is not always found in a courtroom.”

  “It will be this time.”

  “I hope so. If not, Zion will be waiting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of the items I found in Zion’s briefcase was a revolver. I think Zion was planning to kill John with it, but now that he knows Peter is the real culprit, he’ll be waiting for him.”

  “Let’s hope the jury convicts Peter.”

  “Yes, let’s,” I agreed.

  Kentucky is a dark and bloody ground, thick with the blood of both heroes and villains.

  Don’t . . . ever . . . let . . . your . . . guard . . . down!

  Other Books By Abigail Keam

  Princess Maura Tales

  Josiah Reynolds Mysteries

  Last Chance For Love Series

  CHECK OUT THE

  JOSIAH REYNOLDS MYSTERIES!

  “Abigail Keam writes with vision and understanding.”

  Midwest Book Review

  “We are introduced to a cast of characters and a storyline that, like honey, is sweet and delicious.”

  Linda Hinchcliff, Chevy Chase Magazine

  “Ms. Keam writes such that readers want to know more of Josiah’s life and the ending will not disappoint their need to know.”

  Readers’ Favorite

  The Last Chance For Love Series

  After her divorce, Eva Hanover leaves New York City and heads for the Florida Keys. She buys a rundown motel in the seediest part of Key Largo, intending to restore it to its mid-century glory. As Eva refurbishes the motel, the magic of love returns and guests find a second chance for love.

  About The Author

  Hello, my friend. I hope you enjoyed Death By Drama. I have such fun writing about Josiah and her quirky friends. If you like to read in other genres, I also write The Princess Maura Tales, a high fantasy series and The Last Chance For Love Series, a happily-ever-after sweet romance series. I would love to hear from you.

  abigailkeam@windstream.net

  If you like my stories, please leave a review

  and tell your friends about me.

  www.abigailkeam.com

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