Interior Motives (18 page)

Darlene Weikert had been murdered.

I’d thought I’d feel triumphant, but “I told you so” is dull as flat paint when it means a neat lady lost her life through foul play.

“Arsenic?” I asked. “I thought it caused convulsions and that the faces of people who died from arsenic poisoning were fixed in horrible grimaces. Darlene didn’t look like that, did she?”

Lila turned to Cissy, then gestured to the empty cushions to my left. “May I?”

Cissy nodded.

“You’re right, Haley,” the detective said. “That is the normal trademark of arsenic poisoning. But from what the pathologist told me, if a person ingests a steady, increasingly larger amount of arsenic, then the poison doesn’t leave its usual fingerprint.”

“Arsenic . . .” Cissy leaned forward. “How would Darlene have ingested enough arsenic to kill her, even if in small measured doses? How did the killer get her to take it?”

Lila’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze never left our hostess’s face. “That’s what I’d like to know. You were the housekeeper at the Weikert home, weren’t you?”

“I did most of the housekeeping, but I was really there to help with Jacob’s and Darlene’s medical needs.”

“Did you prepare their meals?”

Cissy smiled. “I’m a terrible cook. But Darlene loved everything about it, and she was a genius in the kitchen. She made everything from scratch. Convenience foods insulted her love of good food.”

Lila pulled her small notepad from her leather handbag, and with her silver pen, took down a couple of notes. “Did you serve the meals?”

Cissy shook her head. “Darlene loved food. She loved shopping, loved preparing it, and she was very, very particular about the presentation. She always served, even when she didn’t feel very well.”

I admired Cissy’s patience with Lila. I don’t know that I could’ve stayed so calm in the face of the detective’s implied accusation.

But before Lila could fire off another question, Cissy spoke. “I’ll make your job easier, Detective. I did not put arsenic in the Weikerts’ food. Never. I wouldn’t have done it under any circumstances, and even less would I have hurt my dearest friend.”

Her voice rang with conviction. Even Lila blinked.

“I think,” I ventured, “we can assume Cissy didn’t sprinkle arsenic on Darlene’s spaghetti instead of Parmesan. So we need to find out how it was administered.”

Lila’s laser gaze speared me. “Why don’t you backtrack a couple of sentences, Haley, and get rid of all those
we
s? There is no we here. There’s the PD, who will conduct a full investigation into Darlene Weikert’s murder, and then there’s you. You’re the innocent bystander who just happened to suspect murder, because murder is the first thing you think of when someone dies.”

“That’s not fair, Lila. Even though I did call you right away, that was a knee-jerk reaction. I don’t just paint a mural and stick a killer in it whenever there’s a death. Something has to tip me off. The picture of murder was there for anyone to see. Just because you missed it doesn’t mean you have to turn snide on me.”

“That’s not the point,” she said. “At least, not right now. We can discuss your odder tendencies at a later time.”

I sat back into the lumpy couch. “Go ahead. Grill her some more. I don’t know what you’re going to get out of her.”

Lila shook her head. “I didn’t come to grill her. I had questions for Mrs. Grover.”

“You girls have problems to solve,” Cissy said. “But you can better address them when I’m not around.”

“She agrees with me. This isn’t the time or place.” Lila’s satisfaction came as a surprise. Around me she’s always so self-assured that I never think she might need approval or support.

Cissy jumped in. “Only when it comes to your argument with Haley.”

Lila sighed. “Fine. If you had to take a guess, how would you say the arsenic got into Darlene’s system?”

“I can think of only one way.” Cissy’s expression grew grim. “The HGH. And, yes, I injected her. But I did not mix it with arsenic. I don’t know how the poison entered the serum, much less Darlene’s body.”

“But we agree it was in the HGH,” Lila said.

Cissy lifted her chin. “In principal.”

“Don’t you think,” I said, “that if Cissy wanted to kill Darlene she would have gone about it in a way that didn’t point suspicion right at her?”

The gratitude in Cissy’s eyes encouraged me. So I added, “I’m not a professional”—I had to appease Lila and her cop pride—“but I think a nurse would know dozens, if not hundreds, of ways to kill someone. She probably also knows how to make it look as if someone else did it.”

Lila turned to Cissy. “Is Haley right? Do you know that many ways to kill?”

Cissy stood, anger in her tight lips, her stiff stance, and her blazing eyes. “Any medical professional knows how to kill, just like any law enforcement officer does. That doesn’t mean we kill as a matter of fact any more than you do, Detective.”

Lila got up too. I had no choice but to follow.

“You understand, Mrs. Grover,” the karate chop cop said, “that even though we don’t have enough evidence to charge you, we will continue to observe you.”

“I know I’m a suspect. But my conscience is clear.”

Lila closed her handbag on her notepad and pen. “I hope you have good reason for it.” She turned to the peaceful, snoozing dogs. “Come on, Rookie. Let’s go home.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, I burst out laughing. “
Rookie?
What kind of name is that for a dog?”

The cop’s expression softened as the pup trotted to her. “It just fits.”

“You’re a dog-owner disgrace. You can’t even shake off the cop gig long enough to give your dog a decent name.

” She snapped Rookie’s leash to his collar, then crossed her arms, the leash looped around a hand. “And
Midas
is a stroke of genius?”

“Well, it does acknowledge something about the dog himself.”

“So does Rookie. He’s the new dog in my life. I had a veteran.”

Cissy must’ve had it with the two of us, because she went straight to the door. “You two are so alike that if it weren’t for the obvious physical differences, I’d say you were twins. Now please take your sibling rivalry somewhere else.”

I glared at the karate chop cop but only called my dog.

Lila didn’t respond to Cissy’s comment but rather led her pup outside.

When we both stood on the sidewalk, I let out my held breath. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t know how anyone can say that. You have to be the most inflexible, narrow-minded human I’ve ever met.”

She looked down her small nose—she did even that with panache, so I knew we couldn’t have anything in common. “I’d have to say you’re the obstinate one. Why you persist in thrusting yourself into situations where you’re not welcome or for which you lack even the most basic training is beyond me.”

“In a pig’s eye! I don’t stick myself in. Things happen around me.”

She stepped toward her plain-vanilla, unmarked department car. “Do take note of your elegant eloquence.”

“Hey! I get my point across.” I dragged Midas to my car. “But remember, if I hadn’t ‘thrust’ myself into the last situation where you definitely didn’t want me, then a killer would’ve gone free.”

She stopped. Turned. Nodded. “I can’t argue there. You clung to your suspicion, and you pushed and pushed until we did something to prove you either right or wrong.”

“See? You can’t just dismiss me as a crank. Even you have to admit my instincts were right on.”

“I did admit it. What do you want now, an apology to your dented pride, an ode to your suspicious nature, and a bow to your pushier side?”

I let Midas in through the Honda’s back door. Then I faced the cop again. “Okay. I get it. I was right, you said so, and now we can get on with our lives.”

Rookie chose that moment to whimper. We both turned toward the sweet little guy. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

Lila knelt at his side in spite of her chic tan slacks. “Aw . . . baby boy. What’s the matter? You want to go home? We did cut into your nap back there. Is that it? Did the brotherly wrestling wear you out?”

The pup nuzzled her hand, then licked away, like every good golden does. Lila reached inside the pocket of her blue blazer. “Here you go. You were a good boy.”

And like all good goldens, Rookie nearly took her hand along with the small treat. I laughed. “Oh yeah. He’s Midas’s brother, all right. Has the appetite to go with the family good looks.”

Lila scooped him into her arms, buried her face in his neck, opened her car door, and tucked him inside. Rookie didn’t appreciate that kind of treatment. He whimpered again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you,” Lila said. “You were right when you said I needed a dog to keep me sane.”

“And this”—I gestured toward Cissy’s forlorn house— “was sane?”

She shrugged. “I take my job—”

“Seriously. I know. You’ve told me that more times than I want to bother to count.”

“I do things right, or I don’t do them at all.”

“I can relate. I don’t do things halfway either.”

“And that’s why you butt heads each time you meet,” Tyler Colby said.

We both turned, and for the first time, I noticed the vintage red T-bird parked just beyond our cars. “What are you doing out here?”

As far as I know, Tyler’s the only thing Lila and I have in common: our martial arts instructor.

“I’m working with a bunch of guys from my church on a house down here. It’s the third one we’ve renovated for residents who can’t afford the work themselves.”

Lila tipped her head. “Another of your missionary endeavors, right?”

“I do what I can to follow my Boss.” Then he waved his upturned hand back and forth a couple of times. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were having a normal, friendly conversation. But I know better, don’t I?”

I shrugged. “I can be civil.”

“I’m always polite,” Lila said.

“But did you notice you two agreed to at least one thing you have in common—that you don’t do things halfway? Plus, you’re both as pigheaded as they come. Never met anyone more so.” He shook his shaved head. “And you say you have nothing in common.”

“What movie do you think you’re watching?”

“That’s so ridiculous, Tyler.”

“Give it up, sisters. You could be twins, you’re so alike.” I glared.

Lila pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze.

Before either one of us could tell him what we thought of his last statement, he added, “One of these days you’re going to be the best of friends. I’d suggest you get used to each other. I doubt it’s going to take the Lord much longer to bring that miracle about.”

Then he drove off.

The coward.

He couldn’t be right . . .

Could he?

12

The next few days were among the most awkward I ever lived through. I focused on work, but that meant I had to spend hours at Tedd’s office. While there, I did a great dodge-’em-car impersonation. Every time I bumped into Tedd, I bounced away as far as I could go.

I didn’t know what to think of my shrink’s date with Dr. Dope, and I suspected the Mexican doc had told her about my bungled attempt to break into his room.

A heart-to-heart with Tedd? Nuh-uh. No way.

But that wasn’t my only cause for awkwardness. I still had to work with Dutch. I don’t know what troubled me most, the “I get it” moment when I realized it’s Dutch who really attracts me, or the sting of his recent spew of nasty comments. Maybe it was a combo of both.

How un-me to let that kind of deal get to me.

Yeah right.
After all that’s happened to me, I’m a feelings-phobe. And the rumble of emotional crud inside me had me freaking out from one minute to the next, depending on what I saw, heard, or was told.

Not that Tedd or Dutch wanted to have much to do with me.

Even that gave me grief.

Only not so much grief as what headed my way on Thursday afternoon. I’d been at Tedd’s office since nine in the morning, marking the hems of the custom-made window treatments. At two fifteen, my cell phone rang.

“Oh, Haley girl,” Bella sobbed. “It’s so bad . . .”

One thing about Bella: she never cries over nothing. My heart kicked its beat up a notch, and my palms grew sweaty. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is it Dad? What do you need me to do?”

She snuffled. “Just hurry. Get to the ER at the Wilmont General Clinic—
fast
.”

Father God, give me strength!
“Is that where you are? What happened? How’d you get hurt?”

“No, no, no. I’m here, but I’m fine—” Another convulsive sob cut off her words.

Panic shot through me. “What happened to Dad? When did it happen? Where was he?”

“Oh,” she wailed. “I’m not doing so good on this. Hale’s fine, honey. I’m fine. It’s Cissy who isn’t.”

“Cissy? What’s wrong with her?”

“She didn’t look so hot when she first came to work, and then a little while ago, she got all sweaty, couldn’t breathe worth a dime, and said she felt a cramp all the way down her arm. I figured I’d better call the ambulance, what with her stump and all.”

“She had a heart attack.” It wasn’t a question.

“She sure did. And the doctors are still working on her, so get your fanny over here quick.”

I’d already started toward the back door. “Give me five minutes, okay? And don’t go freaking out on me. I was doing enough of that for the two of us before you called, so let’s not waste twice the energy. Just pray.”

“Just hurry.”

I snapped my clamshell phone shut, then rapped on Tedd’s private office door. When she answered, I turned the knob and stuck my head inside. “I’ve got an emergency. Don’t know if I’ll be back today. See ya!”

Even though it was rude, I took off and left Tedd’s questions unanswered. There’d be time for answers once I knew Cissy’s condition. I hoped and prayed she would survive. I agreed with Bella on this one; Cissy hadn’t killed Darlene. I just didn’t know who had.

But I was going to find out. For sure.

In my hurry to reach the ER, I sped through a couple of questionable amber lights. I call those hot tangerine. When I pulled into the clinic’s parking lot without a cop car’s strobe light in my rearview mirror, I allowed myself a sigh of relief.