Midnight Before Christmas (10 page)

“That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? That’s why you lost faith. Your mother is gone, but you haven’t really let her go yet. And you haven’t forgiven God for what happened to her.” His tone changed. “So you went to law school?”

“Why not? I still wanted to help people. But for real this time, not in a mushy-squishy spiritual way. I wanted to get down in the trenches and fight. Help the wronged find justice. Stop deadbeat dads. Protect women from abusive—um, well, you know.”

Carl frowned. “Yeah, I know.”

“I made great grades in law school, and next thing I knew, I was being courted by all these big law firms—Crowe Dunlevy, McAfee Taft. They seemed very supportive of what I wanted to do. So I took my best offer and joined a big corporate firm. How could I resist?”

“Except it didn’t turn out the way you expected.”

“No, it didn’t.” She fell silent.

“Maybe you ought to quit the firm. Set up your own shop.”

Megan sighed. “That would be wonderful. But it would require tons of start-up capital, which I don’t have. And even if I did …” Her eyes drifted. “I’m not sure I could bring it off.” She looked up abruptly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It isn’t why I came.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. He shifted around in the bedsheets, as if he wanted to move but had nowhere to go. “Bonnie tell you what happened to me?”

“No. I mean, she said you used to be a cop. And that you …um…”

“Liked to drink? Except I bet that’s not how she put it.”

Megan almost smiled. “Well, no. It isn’t.” She inched forward. She couldn’t explain why, but suddenly she was interested in hearing more of his story, knowing more about what brought him where he was today. “Tell me what happened.”

Carl shrugged, looked away. “It was a while back, just a few months before the bombing, actually. Me and my partner got into some trouble. A shoot-out, Gang warfare. Near downtown. Bullets were flying. We were on our own for almost half an hour before reinforcements arrived.”

“That must’ve been a nightmare.”

He shrugged again. “We pulled through. But one of the gang members didn’t. He got shot dead.”

Megan’s hand covered her mouth. “I remember reading about that.”

“At first the reporters were our buddies. Talked about how heroic we were. The thin blue line holding back the mongrel hordes.”

“But that didn’t last.”

“Two days after the shooting, the word broke. The kid that got killed—he was only thirteen.” Carl swore under his breath. “Big for his age. And he was packing. But that didn’t change the public reaction. We’d killed a thirteen-year-old kid. And two days later, ballistics dropped the final straw.” His face seemed to tighten. “The bullet that killed the kid came from my gun.”

Megan’s lips parted. “That must’ve been horrible.”

“Needless to say, the press were no longer my buddies. They demanded an investigation. How could this happen? Where did procedures break down? And pretty soon you’re hearing words like
trigger-happy.
And
baby-killer.”

Megan laid her hand on the rail of his bed. “And that’s when you began to drink?”

“Aw, I’d always had a drink or two on occasion. But that’s when it turned ugly. That’s when it became like the only thing I wanted to do in life was have another drink.” He pounded his pillow. “Internal Affairs did an investigation, then cleared me. One hundred percent without blame. Acting in self-defense. But it didn’t matter. The paper didn’t carry that story, natch. The big bosses decided it would be best if I laid low, took a desk job. Which I was horrible at. Well—if I’d wanted a desk job, I’da become an accountant. I kept drinking and my work was crap and eventually they put me on extended leave. Without pay.”

“And you kept on drinking.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” His lips were thin and pursed. “I—I don’t know how to explain it. I just stopped believing in everything I had believed before, everything I thought was right. It’s like you were saying—I just lost faith. You know what I mean?”

Megan nodded. She certainly did. “Maybe if you had more faith in yourself, you wouldn’t need the bottle.”

“Maybe so. I kept thinking that Bonnie would come around. That she’d support me. Help a little, you know?”

“And she didn’t?”

“Hell no. I came home one night, found her rolling on the kitchen floor with this creep Frank. They were going at it hot and heavy.”

“Before you were divorced?”

“Months before. Before she’d even filed. And I’ll tell you something else.” He leaned closer. “Tommy was in the house. And awake. Now that’s sick, if you ask me.”

Megan tried to recall her first conversation with Bonnie that morning. Hadn’t she said that she didn’t start with Frank until after the divorce? “That must’ve been … very disheartening.”

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

“But Carl—even with all that happened—why the turmoil? Why the violence?”

“Violence? What violence?”

“Bonnie told me you pummeled Frank in the face this morning.”

“Do you know what he was saying? He was taunting me, telling me how he was doing … horrible things to my boy. Said he was going inside to do it again right then.”

“So you—”

“Yes! What else could I do? Stand still and let him torture my boy?”

“He couldn’t have meant it.”

“Then why would he say it?” Carl pressed his hand against his forehead. “It was crazy. Almost like he wanted me to hit him.”

His words struck a dissonant chord inside Megan’s brain. Almost like … “I hear you took a swing at two of Bonnie’s neighbors. This morning and this afternoon.”

“They were trying to keep me from my son. I was desperate to see him. Desperate! It was Christmas, and I couldn’t just leave him there with that pervert.”

“So you snatched him.”

“Of course I did. Wouldn’t you?” He shook his head. “Never dreamed it would be so easy.”

It
was
easy, Megan thought silently. After that incident in the morning, surely Bonnie could’ve foreseen …

“I’ll admit, I was thinking about taking Tommy on the road. Holing up somewhere till I could get some help for myself, hire some lawyers, get custody for real.”

“But, Carl, you tried to poison Tommy!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Chinese food. It was poisoned.”

“What?”

“And Bonnie told me you’d tried it once before.”

Carl lurched forward abruptly and grabbed Megan’s arms. “You have to listen to me. I would never hurt Tommy. Not in any way. Much less kill him.”

“You put something on his food.”

“I put soy sauce on his food! So what? I was trying to get him to eat it. I just—I just wanted us to have a happy moment together. One time when everything went the way it should. You have to believe me—sure, I was thinking about taking him away from his mother and that sick piece of work Frank. But I would never hurt Tommy. I would never do that!”

Megan looked deeply into the man’s eyes. She almost hated to admit it to herself, but she did believe him. She really did.

“I know I’ve been acting crazy,” Carl said. “Been that way all day. I don’t know why. It’s—it’s something about the holiday. All this Christmas peace-on-earth-and-goodwill-toward-man stuff. Presents. Families getting together. Except me. I don’t have anyone.” His lips pressed together. “I used to love Christmas. Tommy and me—we both loved it. Back before the split. It was a truly special day.” He laughed. “I have this ratty old Santa suit; he loved it when I dressed up in that thing. He knew it was really me, but—somehow it didn’t matter, you know? We just—” His voice wavered; he stopped till he regained control. “We just had so much fun together.”

Megan looked down quietly. “I’m sorry, Carl.”

“All day I kept dreaming that eventually this nightmare would end. Bonnie would dump Frank, I’d get straightened out—we would be one happy family again. But it didn’t happen.” His jaw clenched. “I had to face facts. I’d been kidding myself since the day we were married. All along I’d been telling myself, Don’t be so suspicious. It’s you she loves. Really it is.” He shook his head. “But it wasn’t. It never was. It was the money.”

Megan blinked. “The money?”

“You got it. Makes the world go round, right?”

“She married you for a cop’s salary?”

Carl grinned. “Hardly. Naw, my dad was loaded. He was R. F. Cantrell, the construction magnate. You may have heard of him—built half of Oklahoma City. Left me three million bucks.”

“Three million? But then—why were you—”

“I don’t have it yet,” he explained. “It’s held in trust. Dad wanted to make sure the moolah didn’t prevent me from making something of myself. Hell of a joke, huh? Right now, I barely get enough to live on. But when I hit forty, two years from now, I get it all.”

Megan felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Carl, if something happens to you, who gets the money?”

Carl shrugged. “I’m not really sure. My heirs, I guess.”

“Have you made a will?”

“A long time ago. Just after …” He paused. “After I got married.”

“And who inherits? Under your will.”

Carl’s voice became distinctly quieter. “Bonnie does. She gets everything.”

“And you didn’t change your will? After your divorce?”

“No. I never thought about it. And of course deep down, even though I’d never admit it, I always hoped we’d get back together again. I think she does, too, deep down. She told me so on the phone. I wasn’t hallucinating; she really said it. She told me how much …”

Carl went on, but Megan wasn’t listening anymore. A dark thought had lodged in her brain, and now that it had established itself, she was having a hard time pushing it aside. It seemed incredible. But what if…

Megan rose out of her chair.

“Where are you going?” Carl asked.

“Police station,” she murmured. “I want to do some checking.”

“On what?”

“I’ll tell you when I return.” She started toward the door, then stopped. “Just promise me this. Promise you won’t do anything foolish. Until I get back, just stay put and stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Well, I guess, but—”

“Please. I’ll be back as soon as possible. And maybe, just maybe”—she headed out the door—“maybe this time I’ll actually understand what’s going on.”

“L
ADY, I SHOULDN’T EVEN
be talking to you.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But if you could just help me—”

“No. I’m sorry. Absolutely not.”

“But I have to learn—”

“I said
no.”

Megan ran her hand through her thick black hair. Dealing with Barney Palmer, the man in toxicology, was proving more difficult than she had imagined. So far, he had been utterly unwilling to augment the information he had given her over the phone.

“But you’re certain that the Chinese food was poisoned.”

“I already told you that.” Palmer was a paunchy man with sandy hair and a slightly receding hairline. He was maybe five or six years younger than Megan. “Sergeant Conner told me to advise you of that fact. But he didn’t instruct me to tell you anything else.”

“This could be of critical importance. Surely you’ve given out this sort of information in the past.”

“Actually I haven’t. This isn’t really my job.”

Her eyebrows rose. “It isn’t?”

“No, I’m just filling in.”

“What do you normally do?”

He appeared more than a bit miffed. “I’m the coroner. Didn’t you know?”

Megan thought carefully before speaking. “Should I?”

“I’ve been on the evening news. Twice now.” He made a minute adjustment to the lay of his tie. “Phil Coburn normally works toxicology, but he’s off making merry, so they asked me to fill in. I guess they figured I already stank permanently of formaldehyde. A few more chemical odors couldn’t do me any harm.”

Megan tried to steer the conversation back to the topic. “I still need more information about this alleged poisoning—”

“Then fill out the forms. Get authorization from my boss.”

“Your boss isn’t in. It’s Christmas Eve, remember?”

“How could I forget?” All at once Palmer slumped down into a chair. “It’s Christmas Eve, and here I am all by myself, the only man on duty in forensics, the only soul so pathetic he’s still at work.”

This was a somewhat unexpected turn of events. “Drew the short straw, huh?”

“Hell no. I volunteered.”

“Volunteered? To work Christmas Eve?”

He waved a hand in the air. “Not like I had anything better to do.”

Megan’s head tilted to one side. Now she was beginning to get the picture. “No holiday plans?”

“My family all lives in Europe, and I can’t possibly afford to visit.”

“No wife?”

“Not even a girlfriend.” He let out a long sigh. “Look—you’re a woman; right?”

“I think so.”

“Then you tell me. What’s my problem? Why can’t I get a date?”

Megan suddenly felt flushed. “I don’t know. Could it be… because you’re a coroner?”

Barney’s head dropped. “That’s what I figured. And that’s so unfair. There’s nothing wrong with being a coroner. It’s really a very sexy profession.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear about this.”

“I don’t mean in that way, you sicko. I just mean it’s exciting, glamorous. Working side by side with the detectives, solving crimes.”

“You get to do that?”

“Not often.” He winked. “But the women don’t know that.”

Megan suppressed a smile. “Barney, you’re a very likeable person. I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. If you just wait patiently, in time—”

“Oh, spare me the Father Knows Best speech. I’m hopeless. Whatever it is women like, I don’t have it.”

A lightbulb suddenly lit above Megan’s head. “Barney, I may have something for you.” After inspecting the contents of her shoulder bag, she pulled out the book she had gotten from the nurse-receptionist.

Barney read the cover. “
‘How to Catch and Keep the Mate of Your Dreams.’”
He looked up. “And you carry this around in your purse? Man, you must be worse off than I am.”

Megan coughed. “Actually, it was a gift.”

“Yeah, right.” He thumbed through the pages. “Still, it can’t do any harm. Mind if I hold on to this for a while?”