The rest of the day passed in a blur. Even without the usual patient load, I stayed busy. As the afternoon wore on, I decided to make another trip to the county jail to talk to Edna O’Malley and drove there the instant I finished work.
After a short wait, the guard ushered her into the tiny visiting room. I was dismayed to see the jailhouse pallor had already taken its toll.
My face must have betrayed my reaction.
“That bad, Becca?” She slumped into the hard plastic chair, a defeated person if ever I’d seen one.
“No, not really,” I lied.
She regarded me with tears in the corners of her eyes. “It’s not a nice place.”
I reached across and took her hand in mine. “I’m so sorry. I’m doing what I can to get you out of here.”
She pulled her hand away from mine as if I’d burned her. “What are you talking about?”
Oops. When would I learn not to volunteer so much information?
“What I meant to say is I know Jack is doing everything he can to get you out of here.” I swallowed hard, sure that she could see through my obvious fib.
“I wish he’d work a bit harder. And faster.” She twisted her hands together.
Tentatively, I reached for her hand again. This time she didn’t pull away. “We all know you’re innocent. I don’t understand why they’re even holding you.” Which was the truth. I had no idea what information or evidence the police or the district attorney had to keep Edna in jail.
“Well, there is the little matter of my being seen coming out of Daley & Palmer shortly before you discovered Robert’s body.” She barely got out the last few words between choked sobs.
Edna had been at the office on the day of the murder? This was news to me. What was she doing there? And who had seen her?
“This whole thing is a horrible nightmare. Dickie and I were talking about that very thing last night when he stopped by.”
“Dickie?”
“Yes, Dr. Daley.”
Boy, and he gave me a hard time for calling him Dr. Dick. I wonder what he’d say if I called him Dr. Dickie? I took a moment to consider, struggling not to smile at the image, before returning my focus to the matter at hand. So Dr. Dickie had visited Edna. For someone running a murder investigation, I didn’t know a lot about what was going on. To regain control, if I ever had it, I decided to ask Edna some direct questions.
“Why were you at Daley & Palmer that day?” I carefully avoided any reference to Robert’s dead body.
She sighed. “I needed to talk to Dickie, to Dr. Daley, about Robert. Things were rather tense at home, and I thought if I could share some of my thoughts with the doctor before Robert’s appointment, then he’d better know how to help us. But I’d forgotten that it was Robert’s regular appointment day. Instead of…of Dr. Daley,” I could tell she struggled to keep her references to Dr. Dick more formal, “it was Robert I confronted.” She pulled her hand out of my grasp and fingered her hair, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, a far cry from her usual sophisticated up-do. It made her look years younger and a lot more vulnerable.
“You had words?”
She glanced away as if remembering the conversation. “You might say that. He’s been completely unreasonable about this…this fling of his. I gave him an ultimatum. Something I’d never done before. I told him if he went off with that woman, I would divorce him.”
So Edna knew about Robert’s plans to fly to Vegas with Anna. “What did he say?”
She reached to finger the pearls that no longer encircled her slim neck and then dropped her hand back to the table with a long sigh. “He told me he’d do what he wanted. He said my money couldn’t buy his love.” She looked at me, her face devoid of color. She appeared more corpselike than Robert had when I’d found him.
“What did you do?” I gently prodded.
Two spots of color brightened her cheeks. “I told him I’d see him dead before I’d allow him to leave me.”
At my sharp intake of breath, she quickly added, “I didn’t kill him, Becca, as much as I hated him at that moment, I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t have done it. Part of me still loved Robert. Still wanted him. I know it sounds crazy after all of his indiscretions, but it’s true. That man has been my weakness for more years than I care to admit. When I left, Robert was alive. Besides, if I’d decided to kill anyone, it would have been that shameless woman who threw herself at my husband. That Anna Blake."
Well, that was good to know.
I mean the part about her not killing Robert. The part about wanting to kill Anna instead, not so good. "How do the police know that you were at Daley & Palmer that morning?"
"Besides someone seeing me and blabbing to the authorities, they found my prints on something in the office."
Yikes. "What did you touch?"
Edna waved her hand about. "Oh, I think I rested my palm on your desk while Robert and I were talking."
"When you left the building, did you see anyone?"
"I was too upset to notice anyone or anything. My marriage was crumbling. This time I knew I wasn't going to be able to save it."
I never wanted to love a man as much as Mrs. O. professed to have loved her husband. It didn't seem healthy to me. I thanked my lucky stars that a single slap to the face had stripped away the blinders and allowed me to see Jack for what he was.
Otherwise, it’s possible I could have grown as obsessed as Edna had been over Robert. I shivered despite the stuffiness of the tiny room.
"Dr. D. was in his office that morning. Did you see him?"
"I could hear music coming from his office. Nessum Dorma, perhaps. I wasn’t focused on what Dickie was listening to, just that he had the volume rather loud. And please, leave him out of this sorry mess. He's a good man. Too good for me. I broke his heart once. I won't do it again.” Edna got up and turned toward the door that led back to her cell. “I really shouldn’t talk about this anymore. Jack wouldn’t approve." She hesitated, and I used it to my advantage.
"Tell me about Robert's gambling debts."
Her spine stiffened, but she didn't turn around.
"Who did he owe?” I asked. “Do you know?”
"He had a weakness. Dickie was helping him,” she confessed in a low voice, her back still to me. “But I won't talk about this, not with you or anyone else. My husband is dead, and I won't tarnish his name further. Guard, I’m ready.”
Wow, if Edna would rather go back to her cell than speak to me then Robert must have had some kind of weakness. And according to Edna, Dr. Daley knew all about it.
It was a no-brainer who I needed to interrogate next. Only I was going to have to filter my questions ahead of time if I wanted to keep my job.
Dr. Dick ran a self-esteem support group in the evening. With luck, it should be nearing the end, and I could catch my boss and ask a few well-placed questions without arousing too much suspicion.
I hurried back to the office.
Despite the late hour, the parking lot had quite a few cars in it. To my surprise, the front door was unlocked. Great. After a murder, you’d think they’d tighten up the building security. But I guess there were enough people still milling around to warrant the unlocked door. I could also tell by the panel van in the lot that the cleaning crew was on the premises and hard at work.
I reached D & P's suite more than a little disappointed to see it shut up tight. Maybe Dr. Dick had instituted security measures of his own.
I unlocked the door and discovered the office empty and the lights out. Maybe I'd gotten the night wrong, or maybe the murder had lowered everyone’s self-esteem so much they didn't feel good coming here after hours. Couldn't say I blamed them. I got a cold, creepy feeling just standing here. Pulling the door closed behind me, I stood in the hall.
A faint glimmer of light shone from Ryder's offices. I tugged on the door to his suite and it opened with ease. Good. I needed someone to talk to.
I walked into an empty waiting room. No big surprise. No doubt I’d find Ryder in his private office. The door was closed, but I rapped softly while turning the knob.
"Hey, Ryder, what's up?"
Two faces turned toward me.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were working."
The woman with Ryder averted her face and slipped on huge sunglasses despite the lateness of the hour.
Odd, very odd.
"Becca. What do you need?" Ryder came around his desk to stand in front of me, blocking any further glimpse of his visitor. Like the psychiatrists, he obviously dealt with client confidentiality. Still, something felt off considering he was an accountant, not a therapist. Unless the case involved embezzlement, I didn’t understand the need for secrecy.
"If this isn't an emergency, I'm kind of in the middle of something,” Ryder said.
One thing I’d noticed before Ryder blocked my line of sight was that the woman wore a wedding ring and a diamond so large it almost blinded me.
"No, no emergency. I just had to stop by the office for something." At his raised eyebrow, I added, "Not for what you're thinking, Ryder. When I realized Dr. Dick had left and saw your door open…" He glared toward his previously closed private office door, and I pointed to the door to the suite. "The outer door was open. I thought we could sit and chat."
He took me by the arm and led me to the suite door. "As appealing as it sounds, Becca, I'm with someone."
I understood his need to work, or whatever he was doing with Mrs. Sunglasses, but I didn't like being forcibly ejected. "I'm going. I'm going." I protested, and he removed his hand from my arm.
"Any other time and it would be my pleasure." His smile didn’t quite make it up to those baby blues.
Yeah, right. He thought I was scattered, and worse he'd always associate the initials STD with me, even though he knew what my granddad had meant.
"Catch you later."
Before I could get out anything else, I found myself standing in the hall. An instant later the bolt hit home. Ryder had secured the door.
I sure would like to know what kind of accounting had to be done at night and with the doors locked.
Damn, I wish I'd gotten a better look at that woman.
Now that I’d struck out on all fronts, I left the building and headed to my trusty, rusty Honda. It had been another long day, another day that produced more questions than answers, more frustration than anything else.
I slipped the key into the ignition and turned. The car didn't exactly roar to life, more like a subtle whimper and then total silence.
Great. Just what I didn't need – a broken-down car.
I rummaged around in my purse searching for my cell phone, only to remember that I’d left it at home charging.
If the car wouldn't start, I'd have to go back into the building and call for help.
I waited a bit and tried to start the car again. But every time I twisted the key, the noise intensified. It sounded like I was torturing it. And it still wouldn’t start.
Finally, giving up, I slunk back to the building entrance, wondering just how much this latest mechanical problem would set me back. Considering my anemic checkbook balance, combined with my nonexistent savings account, I might have to ask for an advance from the doctors. No, they were moaning and groaning enough about money woes.
That left my granddad. He’d been so good to me. I hated to borrow any more from him, but it might be the only way.
Head down and lost in my own little world, I plowed into someone.
"I'm sorry," I said before glancing up and meeting Ryder's rather stern face.
"I thought you'd left," he said, suspicion clouding his voice.
"I’m trying to."
He did some sort of blocking action with his body and motioned for the woman to go behind him and get into his Jag.
I couldn't help myself. Before she could get into the car and away from the outside lighting, I openly stared at her. But I didn’t see much. Besides those darn over-sized sunglasses, she wore a big, floppy hat.
Her dark clothing blended with the night. Very strange, especially for a warm June evening. I craned my neck around Ryder’s body and saw that the diamond and the wedding band were no longer on the lady’s ring finger. Interesting. Very interesting.
"Hey, Ryder." But before I could say more, he moved past me and reached the driver's side of the car.
"'Night," he said tersely.
And without another word, he pulled out of the lot leaving me stranded. Although he didn't know I was stranded.
I entered the building, not relishing going back to D & P’s empty suite. The cleaning crew emerged from the elevator with their waste bins and I nodded to them in passing. I didn't ask them for help. First, they looked like they were plenty busy, and second, my Spanish was rustier than my Honda.
Two hours later, I sat in the parking lot locked in my Honda and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel.
Thirty minutes ago, he’d said he would come right away and I believed him. What was taking him so long?
At last, a car pulled up beside mine.
"Thank goodness you're here. I was getting worried," I said as I emerged from my rust bucket.
"Ah, my-ah sladkaya. It's nice to know that in this world there is one person who cares what happens to me."
I was grateful for the cover of darkness so Max Chernov couldn't see me blush. I’d looked up the meaning of my-ah sladkaya with one of those internet language translators. All this time, he’d been calling me “my sweet one.”
It made me more grateful than ever that, when I couldn't reach my granddad, Chernov had answered his phone and come to my rescue.