Family Case of Murder (16 page)

There was a Bible on the night stand. Lacy picked it up and set Patterson aside, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to read the Bible, either. It felt a little too death row. Still, maybe it would help her fall asleep, so she clutched it to her chest and climbed into bed.

She pressed the sides of the book together and let it fall open, a not-very-scientific method of deciding which part to read. The pages landed near the middle in Psalms. The Psalms were good and comforting, weren’t they? Not the ones about David being pursued by attackers. The story of his flight and pursuit was compelling, though, and Lacy soon found herself skipping back and forth between the book of I Kings to fill in the blanks.

Jason didn’t return to check on her, but that was part of the plan. If she was supposed to be sleeping, it wasn’t really believable for him to pop in for a visit, but she missed him. They had been together nearly constantly for the last few days. Lacy was a person who usually valued her alone time away from strangers, but she never felt a pressing need to get away from the people closest to her. Jason had somehow crossed over into that intimate circle because, even after copious amounts of time together, he wasn’t getting on her nerves.

It was early, and she was potentially being targeted for murder; both of those factors should have meant Lacy wouldn’t sleep a wink. But it had also been an exhausting couple of days, and she had barely slept since she arrived. Without effort, unconsciousness settled over Lacy like a well-worn blanket. One minute she was awake, and the next minute she was not.

And then, seemingly only a minute later, she was awake again. Her heart was thudding hard in her chest. Was it a nightmare that roused her from such a deep sleep? A quick glance at the clock showed it to be almost two in the morning. When she turned her head again, she saw what had woken her. A figure stood to the right of her bed, hand upraised and descending fast.

Lacy had never been a screamer. Riley could muster an ear-piercing scream at will, but Lacy seemingly couldn’t scream at all, not even when she was in a car accident in high school. As she rolled away from the arm swishing toward her, she made a strangled whimpering sound, but it was enough. Jason came crashing through their adjoining bathroom and tackled the dark figure, knocking whoever it was to the floor.

In the movies, Lacy loathed heroines who stood helplessly by while their men defended them. She picked up the heavy bible from beside her head and brought it crashing down on the melee of bodies.

“Ouch!” Jason said.

“Sorry,” she said, an apology that was probably lost on him as he wrestled with her attacker. She scrambled off the bed, around the tangle of humanity on the floor, and flipped on the switch.

Light flooded the scene, causing them all to squint as their eyes adjusted. Lacy blinked hard and everything came back into focus. Jason was still on the floor, struggling with Sue. She had something in her hand that she was trying to stab him with. Now Lacy understood the immobility of the movie heroine because she wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe the women in the movies wanted to help, but they were rendered motionless by a feeling of helplessness. Would it help or hurt matters if she added herself to the pile?

She scanned her room looking for something, anything to help. She spied her shoes and put them on and then hovered at the periphery of the wrestling match, waiting for her opportunity. At last it came when Jason pinned the arm holding the object. Sue was stronger than she looked, and she was writhing so hard that she was about to slip away again, at least until Lacy struck. She dashed forward and used both feet to stand on Sue’s arm, anchoring it in place so Jason could pry the object from her fingertips.

He did so, looking up at Lacy in confusion. “It’s a hypodermic needle, and it’s filled with something.”

Sue began to thrash again. Jason handed the needle to Lacy who clutched it tightly in her hand, being careful not to accidentally jab herself. She was losing her footing on Sue’s arm.

“I’ve had enough,” Jason said. He raised his fist and clocked Sue hard across the jaw, knocking her unconscious. Lacy blinked a few times, feeling stunned. She had never seen him hit a woman before—it was slightly disturbing, even though Sue had it coming.

He stood and reached for her phone from the stand. Finding it dead, he set it back and reached into his pajama pants for his phone. He dialed 911, gave the pertinent details, and hung up. Then he turned his attention to Lacy. Now he had to pry the needle from her hands. He set it aside and slipped his arms around her.

“Okay?” he asked.

She nodded, but she wasn’t sure she meant it. Her brain felt fuzzy. “At least the perp has been apprehended,” she said.

“Promise me you’ll never do anything like this again,” he said.

“I’ll try.”

He blew out a breath, aggravated by her lack of commitment. “Then at least promise me you’ll never say
perp
again. I’ve been a cop seven years, and I’ve never used that word.”

“Can I still say M/O?” she asked.

“I suppose you can use the abbreviation, but don’t say modus operandi,” he countered.

“But that’s the smart-sounding one,” she argued.

He sighed. “Fine, just don’t overuse it.”

“Deal,” she said. It felt good to be talking about nothing instead of the unconscious woman on the floor and the unknown vial of fluid on her night stand.

They stood huddled together in silence a few minutes until the grand doorbell chimed. “I’ll stay with her, you let them in,” Jason said. She started to go, but he held her back and slipped his robe around her. “For the love of all that is good, woman, buy some less-flimsy nightwear.” He cinched the belt tight on her waist and turned her toward the door.

The other inhabitants of the house were filtering sleepily toward the entrance as Lacy reached it, stumbling into the room like zombies in search of brains. She let the officers in and they followed her wordlessly to her room. The crowd of gawkers gathered outside her room, everyone but Aunt Enid and Gregor. Chuck yelped when he caught sight of Sue on the floor, shouldering his way through the press of bodies until he was inside the room.

“What happened?” he exclaimed. “What’d you do to her?” His accusing gaze settled on Lacy.

“Whoa,” Jason said, holding up a hand. “Reverse that question. Sue tried to attack Lacy.”

“No, my Sue would never. She’s the kindest, gentlest woman on earth,” Chuck said.

Jason didn’t disagree, but he did rub his jaw where Sue’s elbow had connected with his face.

“How’d she wind up unconscious?” Chuck asked. His tone was still suspicious, as if he thought Jason and Lacy were pulling one over on him.

“I hit her and knocked her out,” Jason said.

“What?” Chuck charged forward, stopping short two inches in front of Jason’s face. “You hit my wife?”

“Your wife was trying to kill Lacy,” Jason said. His tone remained even, but his fist clenched and his body coiled, ready to spring.

“Dial it down,” one of the cops said, inserting himself between them.

“I want him arrested for assault,” Chuck said.

“Sir, your wife is being arrested for attempted murder,” the cop said. “You have bigger problems. The guy was trying to defend himself and his girl. Come to the hospital with us if you want while she gets checked out, but she’s going to be in our custody after that.”

“But she didn’t do anything,” Chuck protested.

“She was trying to stab the lady with this,” the officer said. He indicated the needle on the stand that had yet to be bagged as evidence. They watched as Chuck’s face flittered with surprise, understanding, and resignation. “Any idea what’s in here?”

“No, I have no idea,” Chuck said, but it was clear to everyone he was lying.

“Mmm, hmm,” the officer said. “We’re going to need a statement. From you two also,” he added, encompassing Jason and Lacy in his look. They nodded as another officer handed them forms and clipboards, then they sat on the bed and began to write.

“This is the first time I’ve ever had to do this from the other side of things,” Jason noted.

“Welcome to my world,” Lacy said. “I’ve filled out so many of these lately I think I should keep them in my purse already printed with pertinent information. Then I could leave blanks and add new names and descriptors, kind of like
Mad Libs
.”

“That would certainly make police work more interesting,” Jason said.

Sue was rousing when the ambulance arrived. She groaned as they loaded her on the gurney and rolled her away. Chuck held her hand and tried to reassure her, but his voice broke several times. Whatever he knew, it must be bad because he was a different creature from the cocky one who had burst through the doors demanding Jason’s head on a platter just a few minutes ago.

The officers took pictures, bagged evidence, and interviewed Jason and Lacy—separately, of course. At last they were finished. Jason stood and shook hands. Lacy tried not to be insulted that she was not included in their brotherhood of policemen, something that became easier to do when Jason slipped his arm around her, resting it on her shoulders.

“Will you give me a call when you find out what was in the vial?” he asked.

“Sure,” the officer said. Lacy had once again neglected to learn his name. He was wearing a uniform and therefore a tag with his last name, but her eyes were so tired they kept swimming out of focus. She didn’t bother trying to read it. Jason undoubtedly knew all their names—he was good with details that way.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, some banter of the we’re-police-and-all-criminals-are-the-same variety, and then the officers took their leave. Lacy was exhausted. She had no idea how Jason was still going full steam, but as soon as the officers were out of the house, he turned to her and staggered. She caught him, pressing her hands against his stomach to keep him from falling over.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, skimming her hands along his flank to check for broken bones.

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve slept in three days.” He squinted, trying to remember. Since he worked the midnight shift, his sleep schedule was often odd or lacking. He had worked the night before they left for
New York
, and he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours since he arrived.

“Go to bed,” Lacy commanded. “It’s not even dawn yet. You can get a few hours while it’s still dark.”

He smiled. “It’s funny how you think I would possibly leave you now.” He turned her in the direction of her bed and urged her forward, following closely on her heels. She pulled back the covers and they fell in a heap together. Jason pulled her close and she spooned against him.

“Don’t tell my grandpa about this,” Lacy whispered.

“I’m not the one in the room with suicidal tendencies,” Jason said. His foot edged near to hers, partially covering it and bestowing her cold toes with some of his warmth.

“This is not how I imagined this scene in my head,” he murmured against her ear, and then he was asleep.

Waking next to someone was an intimate matter. Even if the most salacious touch that passed between them had been his arm draped over her waist, it was still a soft, hazy cocoon of coziness that covered two people while they slept side by side. Or it would have been if Jason’s phone hadn’t buzzed, startling them so they bonked heads in their haste to answer.

“’Lo,” Jason murmured, rubbing his scalp. “Hmm. Mm, hmm. Mm. Hmm. Mmm. Okay. Mm. Thanks.” He closed the phone and set it on the stand.

“Know what I admire about you? It’s your gift of gab,” Lacy said. She turned toward him, pillowing her hands under her cheek.

He lay down again, facing her. “That was the police department.”

“Did Sue confess to killing Hildy?”

“They should be so lucky,” he said. “She’s still insisting on her innocence. Though, after some digging, they’ve found that she was running an illegal cosmetics ring. That must have been what Hildy had on her.”

“Like black-market Mary Kay?” Lacy guessed.

“No, like pretending she was licensed to inject people with all manner of things: silicone and Botox, for instance. The needle she tried to jab into you had an expired batch of off-brand Botox; it was tainted botulism.”

“Tainted botulism, there’s an oxymoron.” She shuddered at the close call, staring at his pleasantly stubbled cheeks as she thought. “That doesn’t really make sense, though.”

“That women would pay a random stranger to inject them with who knows what in a mad pursuit of perfection? I wholeheartedly agree,” Jason said. He reached out, capturing her hand and twining their fingers together. “Speaking of perfection…”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Lacy interrupted. “It’s just odd, you know? She attacks Hildy and kills her with a scarf. Quick and final. Then she attacks me with a needle full of botulism. What did she expect to happen? To watch me have a roaring-bad case of food poisoning? Botulism is rarely fatal. The symptoms might not even have kicked in until I left here. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Media has warped your view of criminals, Red. In the movies killers are always super-geniuses who meticulously plan their attack. In the real world they’re often everyday people who act in a fit of rage. Sue was angry because she thought you stumbled on her secret, and she acted without thought.”

“But such a plan did take forethought. She had to load up the needle and sneak in here. A crime of passion would have been her storming through the door and bludgeoning me to death.”

“It’s worrisome to my psyche when your points are valid,” Jason said. His hand passed over her hair, making her wonder what it looked like. Was it standing on end with static? “But we don’t have all the information yet. More may come to light with further questioning. Let’s just enjoy the fact that it’s over and we can have a measure of peace before we have to leave. On that note…” His arms cinched around her, drawing her tight against his chest. “Lacy, Don’t you think it’s time that we…”

There was a polite tap on the door.