Murder in the Air (17 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Lydia sat down in the visitor’s chair and watched Sol take his place behind his desk. It had felt strange when he’d called early that morning, asking her to come down to the police station, even stranger to be facing him across his desk strewn with papers and empty coffee cups. She’d never been inside his office, and the experience was filling her with dread. His impassive expression told her nothing. He cast his eyes on the papers before him, preventing her from seeing the shade of green they were right now. He was making this interview official and impersonal, and she had no idea why.

“Mr. Korman was poisoned. We received the results this morning.”

Lydia nodded, too stunned to speak. Thinking Daniel might have been murdered and hearing verification that he was were two very different kettles of fish. Her smile turned into a gasp. Suddenly, she was downing deep gulps of air.

“I’ll get you some water.”

When she could manage a few words, she said, “No need. I’m okay.”

Sol was already at the door, shouting out his order.

“Please don’t argue with me, Lydia. We’ve some ground to cover so I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Ground to cover?
She nodded, though she had no idea what he was talking about. When he handed her a glass, she sipped dutifully.

“Does Evelyn know?”

“I’ve spoken to her.”

“How did she take the news? Poor thing, she’s still shaken from our experience Sunday morning, and now this.” Lydia was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I talked to her last night. She’s dizzy and very frightened. Gayle took Evelyn to see her doctor. He’s ordered bed rest for at least seventy-two hours.”

“Lydia, the poison was administered in candy. In Bertran’s Best cremes.”

She stared at him. “Oh, no! You don’t mean in the box of chocolates that Barbara and I gave Daniel!”

“That’s not what I said.”

“How can you know it’s that box? Other guests dropped off gifts and left them on the table in the cloakroom. I saw two other boxes of Bertran’s Best chocolates. Not the same shape, which means they weren’t cremes, but I recognized the iridescent blue wrapping paper.”

It suddenly hit her. “Oh, God! Ours was the only box of cremes!” She turned to Sol. “I swear, Barbara and I didn’t poison Daniel!”

“Lydia—”

“Are you positive Daniel ate one of the cremes? I don’t understand how that could be.”

Sol came to stand beside her. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I know you didn’t put the poison in the chocolates, but Evelyn’s certain Daniel opened the box of Bertram’s Best cremes because the chocolate cremes were his favorite.”

“I know they were. Someone else knew it, and—oh, my God!” She stopped, too distraught to continue.

Sol grimaced. “Lydia, it’s not your fault Daniel’s dead. Take another sip, then tell me everything you can about the box of candy—from the time of purchase until you brought it to the party.”

Drinking water helped calm her. She drew a deep breath, then related the mundane facts of how she and Barbara had bought the candy one afternoon in the Bertran’s Best chocolate store while shopping at the mall.

“We told the salesgirl the kind of candies we wanted and she pointed to a stack of boxes. It was already wrapped in their special shiny blue paper. I took it home with me and left it on the dining room table until the evening of the party.”

“Could anyone have touched it in the interim?”

Lydia shook her head. “No one broke into my home, as far as I can tell. Besides, the wrapping was undisturbed.”

“Did you or Barbara hand the box of chocolates to Daniel?”

“No. Like everyone else, we left it on the table in the cloakroom. Though Evelyn had put ‘no gifts, please’ on the invitations, there were already some gifts on the table when we arrived.”

“And that’s the last time you saw the chocolates?”

“I suppose.” Lydia thought back. “I passed the cloakroom later in the evening, on my way to the ladies’ room, but I didn’t get a good look at the gift table. Daniel’s kids were in the room, holding what appeared to be a meeting. Actually, they were arguing.”

“What about?”

“Money.”

“Interesting. Who was present?”

“Arnold and his wife, Polly—I can’t remember if her husband was there or not—Denise. Oh, and Bennett.”

“Any other grandchildren?”

“Sorry, I don’t remember.”

“Were the gifts still on the table?”

“I’d imagine so. The hosts usually collect them when they’re ready to leave.” When he said nothing, Lydia said, “You’re thinking someone in the room arrived early and injected the poison somehow?”

“Or substituted a box of doctored chocolates for Daniel’s favorites, which happened to be what you and Barbara brought.”

Lydia shivered. “How diabolical! The killer exchanged boxes, attached our birthday card, and that was that.”

She thought a minute, then asked, “But how would he know when Daniel would eat the candy? Though he did finish off a Bertran’s Best box pretty quickly.”

Sol’s eyes were a dull green. “There was no chance of error. Every candy had been doctored.”

“A family member,” she mused.

“Maybe, though any guest could have made the candy switch some time during the party.”

Lydia nodded. “The murderer intended Daniel to die, and soon. Which means, if it was a family member, he was operating under the premise that Daniel was going to change his will when he married Evelyn.” She stared up at Sol. “Unless they knew he’d already changed it.”

Sol shook his head. “I asked Evelyn about this very issue. Daniel only told his children that he and Evelyn were getting married. The murderer assumed he or she had to act before the wedding, not knowing the will had already been changed.”

Lydia continued. “Then, when the murderer found out the terms of the new will, he or she went after Evelyn.”

“Went after her twice.”

“Thank God she’s safe in Atlanta,” Lydia said.

Sol frowned. “She wanted to come home. I had to all but threaten her with protective custody to get her to stay put, at least for a few weeks.”

“I’m glad she’s out of harm’s way.” She stood.

“I want you to be careful as well.”

“Nobody’s after me.” She shuddered. “Or was that red pickup truck after two birds with one stone?”

“I’d say that was the murderer’s final attempt to get at Evelyn before she left Long Island. But there’s no saying whoever it is won’t go after you, should you start to snoop around.”

Lydia grimaced. “I have no intention of—as you put it—snooping around.”

“Good. No investigating, no following up hunches. Promise?” He raised her chin with one finger.

She thought he was about to kiss her, and was disappointed when he didn’t. “I promise,” she said, feeling like a child.

“Talk to you soon,” Sol said, opening the door.

“You never told me—what kind of poison was in the chocolates?”

“It wasn’t poison exactly, but a very strong dosage of digitalis. The same medicine Mr. Korman took to keep his congestive heart failure under control.”

“Something a close friend or relative would know.”

“Exactly.”

This same person would happen to know Evelyn was catching an early Sunday morning to Atlanta, Lydia thought, but didn’t say aloud.

*

Lydia drove slowly to Carrington House, her mind awhirl with everything Sol had told her. Daniel was dead because someone had injected a strong dose of digitalis into his chocolate. Her birthday gift, which she and Barbara had chosen with Daniel’s preferences in mind. She was overcome by a sense of rage, so powerful she almost sailed past a red light. How vile, to kill a man while pretending to celebrate his life! Who, among Daniel’s family and friends, was that intent on wiping him off the face of the earth? Was the murderer after Daniel’s money, or was there a personal vendetta involved?

As soon as she stepped inside the business office, she knew that Len had gotten word of Daniel’s postmortem. He cut short his conversation with Jessica and Betty, the head of the wait staff, to glare at her.

“A Lieutenant Molina called to say your friend, Mr. Korman, was poisoned, possibly right here at the mansion. He’s coming by later to question as many of the staff as I can round up who were on duty the night of his party.” Len’s small eyes bore into her. “That’s your Mr. Korman, Lydia.”

Lydia resisted the urge to smack him. “Yes, Len, Mr. Korman was my friend and neighbor. I’m just coming from the police station, where Lieutenant Molina gave me the sad news.”

“Jeez!” Len rubbed the bald spot on his head, messing up his comb-over. “I hope you told him we run a respectable facility. Nobody who works here had any reason to kill the old geezer. Nobody even knew him—except for you.”

Lydia’s nostrils flared. “Daniel Korman was a wonderful person and not a geezer, as you put it.”

Len waved his hand. “It’s an expression, that’s all. No need to be so thin-skinned. The point is, we don’t want adverse publicity. The board hears about it, and there goes the money I practically had to beg them for to do our much needed renovations.”

You’re afraid they’ll blame you if the suites aren’t a moneymaker, and you’re chewing me out to let off steam. Well, buster, you picked the wrong patsy.

“Tell you what, Len. I’ll make today my last day at the mansion and turn down the offer to manage The Carrington Suites. That way you and the board won’t be tainted by any connection to me because someone I recommended was poisoned.”

“No, Lydia, you can’t leave!” Jessica wailed.

Lydia felt a pang of remorse. She was fond of Jessica, who was young enough to be her daughter. Though she held the title of office manager, Jessica was overworked and understaffed. Lydia held her ground.

“I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch, Jessica, but I can’t work here knowing Len blames me for bringing trouble to the mansion.”

“I never said—”

“Then I quit, too,” Jessica broke in staunchly. “I can’t manage without Lydia.”

Len’s eyes rolled like a wild man’s. “Don’t say that, Jessica. I’ll raise your salary fifty bucks a week.”

“Oh, sure,” Jessica said. Tears streamed down her face. “Just like you said you’d hire two more people. Well, now you’ll have to hire four more.” She fled from the room.

Len chased after her. “You can’t go, Jessica! What will I do without you?”

Jessica swirled around, making him stop in his tracks to avoid crashing into her. “You’ll get what you deserve!”

“Please stay, Jessica.”

“I won’t—unless Lydia stays, too. She helps me with things you should be teaching me, things you have no time for with your precious renovations.”

Len paused. Lydia nearly laughed at the agony he was going through, stewing in a situation he’d created. He swallowed once. Twice. He cleared his throat.

“Would you reconsider staying, Lydia? I didn’t mean to speak harshly about you or your friend. I’ve been burdened with business concerns—”

“You haven’t been taking care of your home office,” she broke in smoothly. “That should always be your first concern. I’ll come back if you make the hiring of two office workers a priority. Jessica can’t go on as she’s been doing.” Lydia grinned. “She’s a terrific asset. You’d be a fool to let her slip through your fingers.”

*

Driving home hours later, Lydia reexamined her exchange with Len and all that had ensued. She wasn’t proud of having allowed herself to be sufficiently provoked to offer to quit, though the results were mostly positive—a raise for Jessica, and ads for more personnel were placed online and in the papers. The downside was Len now saw her as a threat to his authority and was bound to seek retribution somehow. She shook her head. No matter. If he made things unpleasant, she’d quit and find a job in a more congenial workplace.

She stopped at a gourmet market and bought fruits, vegetables, and flounder for dinner. She ate her dinner, stacked the dishwasher, and was planning to call Barbara when the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” she called out, hoping to see Sol when she opened the front door.

Her smile disappeared when she saw Ron Morganstern and Mick Diminio standing there instead. They looked grim. Her heart jumped to her throat, but she refused to show her apprehension.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I’ve nothing to say to either of you.”

Mick met her gaze. “But we have something to say to you—if you’ll let us.”

He lowered his head, awaiting her decision. Ron nodded reassuringly.

Puzzled but no longer frightened, she shrugged. “In that case, come on in.”

She led them into the living room, and they sat side by side on the sofa opposite the one she favored.

Ron cleared his throat. “First off, Mick and I want to thank you for not running to the cops about Timmy John.”

“Something I hope I don’t live to regret,” she said wryly.

Mick reached across the table, as though intending to pat her hand, and thought better of it. “I’m deeply sorry for making asinine threats against your family. That was stupid and unconscionable, and I certainly didn’t mean it.”

Lydia glared at him. “It was the most awful thing anyone ever said to me.”

He gave her a thin smile. “I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth. Will you forgive me?”

Lydia thought a minute. On a visceral level, she’d never forgive him, but there was no point in refusing his olive branch. She nodded. “Apology accepted. It’s rare to hear an old pol say he’s sorry.”

Mick sighed. “Thank you. Ronnie and I have a lot to be sorry for, but I swear to you, we didn’t kill Timmy John. I’ve regretted that afternoon these seventy years.”

“We’re sorry we can’t undo what we did that day,” Ron said, “but we want to help set things right—by finding Daniel’s murderer.”

“Yeah, we want to make sure the rotten skunk gets what he deserves!”

Lydia gave a start. “How did you find out he was murdered?”

Mick winked, giving Lydia a glimpse of what a charmer the man must have been in his prime. “You underestimate an old pol’s connections. My son called me as soon as he heard the news, and I called Ronnie.”

“Can you believe it—Danny done in by one of his own flesh and blood?” Ron shook his head in disapproval. “I thought that all along, ever since he died.”