Back in their room, Charlie sat on the edge of the bed and listened as she told him what Bruce asked her to do. “I’ll come with you,” he said.
“Do you feel okay?”
“That Larry guy came back and checked me. He said I was fine.”
Alexa walked into the bathroom. The last thing she wanted was to put Charlie in more danger, but Bruce’s “be careful” echoed in her head. Having Charlie with her was protection, and a second set of eyes and ears. She looked through the open door. “When you were coming to, you called me Mel.”
Charlie grunted.
She spoke louder. “I noticed you’re wearing your wedding ring.” She watched him look at his hand.
“I got weirded out after falling in the river. Like what if I had died? Mel says she’s sorry. That she made a mistake.”
Cheating on Charlie was unforgivable, wasn’t it? But clearly—with the wedding band back on his finger—Charlie didn’t think so. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I just want my family back.”
Growing up, that’s all she had ever wanted: Mom, Dad, Lexi, and Charlie, together again. She scowled. Maybe the construct of family was fluid, and her concept—father, mother, two children—was as outdated as her penchant for canvas Keds. In Auckland, Charlie had called her favorite pair “old lady shoes.”
She gazed at Charlie, head down, hands on his knees. His hair was thinning at the crown; the sight made her heart swell. We’re getting older, and this is our one chance at life.
“When we get out of here, let’s call Dad and Rita. And the boys.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Cassandra Perry, Dr. Clark’s drug rep, was staying in Kiwi.
“I bet everyone wants Kiwi,” Charlie said. “No one can pronounce the other rooms.”
“You probably could if you were a Kiwi.”
He looked at her quizzically. She decided it wasn’t worth explaining kiwi bird and Kiwi person. Let him think she was cuckoo. Alexa rapped on the door. They waited, and then she rapped again. No answer. Dr. Larry Salvú’s room, Weka, was across the hall. Clean Timberland boots waited on the mat. He opened his door promptly and swiped his bangs from his forehead. “What wrong?” he asked Charlie.
“He’s good,” Alexa said quickly. “Thanks for helping.”
Larry picked up the boots, scrutinizing the tread. “The bill is in the mail.”
She figured he wasn’t kidding. His tight, short-sleeved T-shirt emphasized his muscular arms. Gym arms, Alexa thought. “Can we come in?”
He acted like they were old buds and waved them in. His room was similar to Charlie and Alexa’s but with a queen bed instead of twins. The queen was neatly made except for pillows leaning against the headboard. A Lee Child thriller was on the nightstand. “Sit, sit,” he said.
Alexa remained standing. “This won’t take long.”
Charlie sat on the bed. Larry leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, no visible tattoos, and gestured with his sharp chin to the window. “I’m glad I’m not hiking.”
She gazed out. Rain pummeled the earth; trees drooped in misery. She thought of Debbie and Mark, zigzagging up the pass, exposed and guide-less. She hoped they’d be okay.
Larry looked at Charlie. “Any dizziness?”
“A little groggy. Some coffee would…”
Alexa interrupted. “Since we believe Charlie was drugged, we’re trying to locate the source. Do you carry sleeping pills?”
Larry’s eyes hardened. “What are you implying?”
“Just answer.”
His voice rose a couple decibels. “I don’t carry sleeping aid. I certainly wouldn’t risk my medical license by doping your brother.” He looked to the door. “Talk to Cassandra. At breakfast she mentioned how well she slept last night. I found that peculiar, given Diana had passed away.”
“Thanks for your time,” Alexa said.
In the hallway Charlie said, “I don’t trust him.”
Alexa shrugged noncommittally. She tried Cassandra’s door. Still no answer.
Rosie wasn’t in her room, either. They found her in the lounge, sitting on a couch next to a Luxer woman with a British accent. “It’s a bit wet out,” the Luxer was saying, “so all’s well to be cozy and safe.”
Cozy maybe, Alexa thought. Safe? Not so sure. The Luxer offered to get Rosie a cuppa. Alexa took her place on the couch. Rosie responded to her questions dully and dutifully. She didn’t have or use sleeping pills.
They intercepted Cassandra coming out of the restroom. She was hard to miss in her bright red sweater. Alexa was direct. “Do you have sleeping pills in your possession?”
Cassandra flicked a speck off her sweater. Her black onyx ring looked like a spider clinging to her finger. “I carry samples everywhere. Habit from being a pharmaceutical sales rep.”
“Did you share any medication with anyone?”
She hesitated. “Diana asked for a little something on our first night. She had a headache. I gave her an ibuprofen.” Her honey-colored eyes pinged from Alexa’s to Charlie’s. “I know you’re with the police. What’s happening?”
“Can we see your samples?” Alexa marched off without waiting for an answer. She was relieved Cassandra followed.
She entered Kiwi without a key.
“Don’t you lock your door?” Alexa asked.
Cassandra turned on the light. “This is New Zealand, not America, where the crime is.”
Charlie looked like he was about to say something. Alexa made a face at him.
Toiletries were strewn across the dresser top. Cassandra rummaged through them, her red nails poking a brush, moving lipstick and lotion, knocking a small bottle to the floor. Alexa picked it up, surprised to see eau de toilette on the label. Perfume? On a hiking trip? Diana Clark had worn perfume, too. She set the bottle back on the dresser.
Cassandra hurried to the bathroom, flicking on the light. She looked around, her face pinched. “My pills are gone. What’s this about?”
“My brother was drugged. Larry thinks it was sleeping pills.”
Cassandra whipped around to face her. “You aren’t suggesting I drugged him?”
“Did you?”
Cassandra’s nose flared. “Of course not.” Her voice lowered as if she didn’t want someone to overhear. “Are you saying someone came into my room?”
Alexa shrugged.
“I felt like a zombie,” Charlie said.
“I only had a couple sleeping pills. You’re lucky Ambien is short-acting.”
What if she had had a whole bottle? Alexa thought. Would Charlie be dead?
“Men metabolize the effects faster than women,” Cassandra was regaining her footing. “Probably because of your testosterone.”
Charlie blushed. “Whatever.”
“Come with us,” Alexa said.
She could hear Bruce’s loud voice before they entered the dining room. “We have too many people here when we need them elsewhere. Milford Sound Airport, for instance,” he said to Sergeant Kramer. “Get talking to those pilots.”
“Yes, Senior,” Kramer said.
They hushed as Alexa and her entourage approached.
Alexa was nervous as she introduced Charlie to Bruce. It felt like a big deal.
“Bruce Horne. Glad to see you up and about.” He held out his hand. “One of our officers will need to take a statement about your incident.”
Charlie and Bruce shook.
“Been a rough morning for you,” Sergeant Kramer said to Charlie. “At least your lips aren’t blue anymore. Come with me. I’ll get Constable Chadwick to take your statement.”
Charlie followed Kramer.
Cassandra stepped around Alexa. “I need to make a statement as well.”
“This is Dr. Clark’s pharmaceutical rep,” Alexa explained. “She had sleeping pills and says they’re missing.”
“All my samples are missing, not just the Ambien,” Cassandra huffed.
“Ms. Perry. We spoke earlier.” Bruce’s voice had calmed. “I’m sorry to hear about your missing medication. I’ve been wanting to talk with you about Dr. Clark.”
Alexa watched the interaction with interest. She supposed Bruce found Cassandra attractive.
“I don’t like the thought of someone entering my room and pinching my medication.”
“I agree,” Bruce said. “Was your door locked?”
She smiled demurely, showing perfectly aligned teeth. “No. I’ve a trusting nature.”
“Ms. Glock, will you join me as I interview Ms. Perry?”
Bruce chatted with Cassandra on the way to Vince and Kathy’s private quarters. Alexa supposed he was establishing rapport. Or is he flirting?
Cassandra arranged herself on the couch close to Bruce in the recliner. Alexa sat on a dinette chair and got out her pad and pen.
“I’m recording our talk.” Bruce set up his phone as a tape recorder.
“Is it true that someone pushed Diana off the bridge?” Cassandra asked.
“The circumstances of her death are suspicious.” He asked for Cassandra’s address and phone number. “When did you last see Dr. Clark alive?”
“Yesterday. At lunch. She left before I finished. Diana liked to be first.”
“And this was what time?”
“Around one o’clock. Our Luxe guide would know. He was there. So was Larry. Diana and Larry left together.”
That’s not what Larry said, Alexa thought.
Bruce asked Cassandra about her job.
“I’m a sales rep for Lunar Pharmaceuticals.” She assessed her painted nails. “I promote and sell Lunar products.”
“To whom?”
“To doctors, pharmacies, and health stores.”
“What are your biggest sellers?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Drugs, of course. It’s silly to spend time pushing beauty products. The profit is in pharmaceuticals.”
“What drugs did you supply to Dr. Clark’s practice?”
Cassandra wrinkled her nose. “I don’t provide drugs directly, of course. My job is to educate physicians about our newest products, sell them, and schedule orders.”
“Answer the question,” Bruce said.
“I’d have to check my records.”
“I’m having them checked as we speak.”
Cassandra absorbed this information slowly. She shifted a little farther from Bruce and chewed her bottom lip. “Meperidine and oxycodone are big sellers,” she finally said. “Diana deals with people who are in pain.”
Bruce studied Cassandra. “Did you know Dr. Clark was warned by the medical tribunal for overprescribing painkillers?”
“Prescribing medication to help people deal with pain is justified. It’s not Diana’s fault if someone hoards pills or doubles the dosage or gets prescriptions from more than one doctor. That’s what happens, and then people blame the doctor.”
Bruce sat back. “Who paid for this trip?”
“Diana was treating.”
Alexa thought it was usually pharmas that gifted the docs. This was backward, like the seasons in New Zealand. She wondered if Bruce would follow up.
“Is it ethical to accept a trip?” Bruce asked.
“We’re also friends. I can’t believe she’s dead. Was she really murdered?”
Bruce assumed a sympathetic expression. “I’m not at liberty to say. What was Dr. Clark’s relationship with Dr. Salvú?”
“Larry? Well, a little tense. I heard them arguing about patient volume.”
Alexa doodled a mute button in her notes but scratched it out. Cassandra must be referring to number, not loud patients. She remembered something Cassandra had said at dinner and interrupted Bruce. “Last night you mentioned you saw someone out the window the first night of the Milford Track. Is that right?”
A blotch of lipstick marred one of Cassandra’s incisors. “Yes. Standing in the bushes, peering in. Eerie, I must say. I dropped my phone. When I picked it up and looked again, he was gone.”
“A man?” Bruce asked.
“Might have been. It could have been a caretaker. I didn’t report it, silly of me, I know. Are we done? When can I leave the lodge?”
“We need you to sit tight for a while longer,” Bruce said.
Alexa anticipated the final question. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Do you know of anyone who wanted to harm Dr. Clark?”
Cassandra contemplated her bloodred thumbnail, frowning perhaps because it was chipped. “She didn’t get along with her sister. You might look there.”