Thirty-One

If Pete had ever wondered about the phrase “if looks could kill,” he didn’t any longer. After spending the night in county lockup, Loretta sat in the county police department’s Interview Room A, Ms. Gail Downey, Esquire, at her side, glaring at the two-way mirror. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she could see through it and was watching him.

Baronick entered the observation room just before eight thirty a.m., carrying a file and two cups of coffee. “Sorry I’m late. I thought you might’ve started without me.”

Pete took one of the cups. “I thought about it.”

“I had a few arrangements to make before we get this show on the road.”

“Some show. Ms. Downey will tell her to not answer our questions and insist we release her client because we don’t have any solid evidence. And she’ll be right. We don’t.”

“Maybe.”

Pete looked at him, wondering what Baronick knew that Pete didn’t.

“I found out the company Loretta works for is indeed the one developing the oral insulin. Unfortunately, due to HIPAA, we can’t find out if anyone around here is part of the testing.” The detective waved a paper. “I did manage to get a search warrant for the grieving widow’s home and car for samples of the new drug.”

“She’s too smart to keep that kind of evidence around.”

“True. But you never know what else we might stumble across during the search. Besides, she could’ve slipped up.” Baronick smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “The search warrant wasn’t the only thing keeping me busy. I’ve arranged for a double feature.”

Pete refused to ask what he meant.

Baronick aimed a thumb over his shoulder. “I had Dustin Landis brought over from the jail. He and Anthony Imperatore are waiting in Interview B. Do you want to let the ladies stew a while longer while we chat with Landis?”

“No. I want to hear what Loretta has to say first.”

“You just told me you don’t expect her to talk.”

“I said her attorney will order her not to talk. Doesn’t mean we won’t get anything from her. And if we do, we might have some new questions for Landis.”

Baronick grinned. “I like the way you think.”

Both women looked up as they entered. “I don’t appreciate being kept waiting,” Gail Downey said.

It struck Pete that the words came from Downey’s mouth but sounded a lot like Loretta, leaving him to wonder about the widow’s ventriloquist skills.

“What’s so funny?” This time Loretta’s lips moved.

Pete hadn’t realized he was grinning. Damn. He needed to brush up on his poker face. “Nothing,” he said. “There’s nothing funny about three homicides.”

Neither woman responded.

Baronick took the seat across from Loretta. Pete decided to remain standing. For now.

After stating the date, time, case number, and naming those present for the audio recording, Baronick looked squarely at Loretta. “Dustin Landis,” he said.

Loretta didn’t move. Her lawyer stared unblinking at Baronick and said, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He kept his gaze on Loretta. “How well do you know him?”

Downey glanced at her client and gave a subtle nod.

“As I told you last night, I only know him from the news.”

“And from the office? You worked in the same building.”

“A lot of people worked in that building. I didn’t socialize with any of them.”

“I’m not asking about the rest of the people. I’m asking about Dustin Landis.”

Downey tapped the table with her pen. “Asked and answered, Detective. Move on.”

“Did you and Landis have an affair?”

“Don’t answer that,” the attorney snapped.

Loretta ignored her. “I most certainly did not. I’ve never met the man.”

“Mr. Landis happens to be sitting just down the hall,” Baronick said. “I wonder what he’ll say if I ask him about you.”

“Go ask him then,” Downey said. “But my client has already told you she doesn’t know him. Move on.”

Baronick withdrew a sheet of paper from the folder he’d placed next to his coffee. Pete edged closer, trying to read it over the detective’s shoulder.

“Where were you last Monday?”

“Again. Be more specific.” Downey rested the tip of her pen on her legal pad. “Monday was twenty-four hours long. I’m sure Mrs. Marshall spent her day in more than one place.”

For the first time, Baronick broke eye contact with Loretta and looked at the attorney. “Now that you mention it, I’d really like an itinerary from your client, showing where she was, hour by hour.”

Downey smiled coyly. “That isn’t going to happen, Detective.”

“Okay. Let me narrow it down.” His gaze shifted back to Loretta. “What time were you at Langley’s Dress Shop?”

Downey held up her pen. “Don’t answer that.”

Pete had been right about the attorney not permitting her client to respond to their questions. But Baronick didn’t appear discouraged. He picked up the sheet of paper and studied it. “According to employee statements, you entered the store shortly before one o’clock. Gina Wagner had been eating her lunch, but the other sales staff was busy with customers, so she interrupted her meal to offer assistance.”

Pete eyed the detective. He’d had a busy night.

Baronick pulled out another paper. “I have a copy of a receipt from your purchases that day, timestamped 2:14.”

Frown lines formed around Loretta’s mouth.

Downey twiddled her pen. “I don’t see what my client’s shopping habits have to do with anything.”

Baronick ignored her and pulled out a USB drive. “I also have a copy of the security footage of you at the front counter checking out. You. And Ms. Wagner. And her soft drink right there between you.”

Pete managed to maintain his poker face. Had Baronick seen Loretta slipping something into Gina’s beverage mere hours before she got sick? How much was visible on the video?

Loretta made no move to reply, keeping her lips pressed into a thin, pale line.

Downy used the non-business end of her pen to scratch her chin. “Forgive me, but I still don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

Baronick looked at the lawyer. “Ask your client. She knows.”

  

Zoe gave Paulette the morning off and had the small, quiet office to herself. Ignoring the still unpacked boxes and the pile of paperwork stacked on the old desk, Zoe reclined in her new chair and studied Franklin’s notes on the Elizabeth Landis case. Pete had already told her the bulk of it.

Franklin made a strong case that Dustin would not have hidden in the backseat. The DA had made a convincing counterargument, stating it was perfectly logical for him to wish to avoid being seen. Without questioning Franklin on the depth of his beliefs, Zoe had to agree with the prosecution. She closed the file, relieved she wouldn’t have to offer an opinion in court.

A sharp rap on the closed door made her flinch. She slipped the folder in the desk’s center drawer before rising. “It’s open,” she called.

Dr. Charles Davis, a briefcase in hand, pushed into the office and stopped to take it in.

Crap. If she’d known it was him, she’d have pretended to be out. “What can I do for you?”

He made a face as if the air reeked. “This is the new county coroner’s office?”

“Temporary office. We’ll be moving into the Courthouse Annex as soon as a space becomes available.”

“For your sake, I hope that’s soon.”

Which was about the nicest thing he’d ever said to her. “So do I,” she admitted. “But you didn’t come here to inspect my new digs.”

“No, I did not.” He made his way around the stacked boxes to stand across the desk from her. “I came bearing gifts.” He set down the briefcase, clicked it open, and retrieved a printed report, which he laid in front of her. But he covered it with one large paw preventing her from reading it.

“What’s this gonna cost me?” she asked, doubting whatever the report held would be worth it.

“Can’t I share information out of the goodness of my heart?”

Skeptical he even had a heart, she pointed at the paper. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t be covering it up.”

“This is information about Elizabeth Landis.”

“You’re employed by the defense. I’m testifying for the prosecution. Why on earth would you share information?”

He lowered his voice. “Because you need me.”

“No, I don’t. I have Franklin’s notes. And I wasn’t there nine years ago, so I’m limited to only reading his official report.”

“I don’t mean that.” Davis had a glint in his eyes. “With Franklin gone, you’re the acting coroner until the county gets around to holding a special election.”

She crossed her arms. “At which point you’ll run against me.”

“Maybe not.”

Now she knew the cost attached to this “gift” was way beyond her price range.

“Hear me out,” Davis said. “I just lost to Franklin in a very expensive election. The cost of running for office is astronomical. You don’t have that kind of money, and, I admit, I don’t have the cash or the energy to go through it all again.”

Zoe continued to eye him suspiciously. She wanted to know where he was going with this but not enough to ask. She also knew she wouldn’t have to.

“You need me. You have good investigative instincts, I’ll grant you that. But you were still under Franklin’s tutelage when he died. You’re not ready to carry the burden of this office on your own.”

She recognized his flattery as blown smoke, but the rest of it rang true. She didn’t feel ready. Or able. What she felt was overwhelmed.

“I want a position on your staff.”

“I already have a forensic pathologist.”

He waved the hand not holding down the report. “I’m not talking about taking Abercrombie’s job, although I can certainly assist when needed. I want the job of chief deputy.”

Her suspicions grew. “You wanted to take over Franklin’s job, change the office from a coroner to a medical examiner system…not to mention your promise to fire me because I’m inept…and now you want to work as my deputy?”

“You’re not inept. That was all political blathering. As for the change to an ME system? I still believe that’s the future of the office. But Monongahela County isn’t ready for it yet.” He leaned closer, his eyes demonically bright. “Yes, I want the job of being your deputy. You need me. I know the job. I know the stress. And I’m gambling that you’re going to burn out. I give you five years. In that time, you’ll either be sick of the job or damned good at it. If it’s the first, I’ll be in a perfect position to take over. If it’s the latter?” He shrugged. “I’ll take credit for your success.”

Zoe hated that she was even considering his offer. She nodded at the report. “What’s in there?”

“Do we have a deal?”

“If I say no?”

“Then you are an idiot.”

“What if I say I want to think about it?”

“Sorry. This is a limited time offer.”

Zoe pondered her options. She wanted to see what was in that report. Davis probably felt—and rightfully so—that if she had time to think about his proposition, she’d reject it. Hence the carrot and stick. But in truth, even without the bait, he was right about her needing help. Franklin had been mentoring her but had died before his work was complete. She still had to take the rest of the training course required by the state. Franklin—and now she—employed other deputies but none of them had as much training as she. Franklin’s death had left the Monongahela County Coroner’s Office in the lurch.

As for the stress, she’d already been yearning to return to the long hours on duty but equally long hours off duty that she’d had with EMS.

Zoe reached across the desk. “Deal.”

Beaming, Davis clasped her hand. “You’re smarter than I thought.”

At least she’d still be the boss in this office and could fire his ass. “Now tell me what you found.”

He slid the report toward her and removed his hand from it. “Ordinarily, tox screens only test for certain, routine substances. I went above and beyond and discovered arsenic in the hair sample.”

She lifted her gaze from the report to look at him. “Arsenic?”

“Elizabeth Landis was poisoned.”

“She died of a gunshot wound to the head.”

“Ultimately, yes. But she was also being poisoned.”

Zoe lowered into her chair.

“Arsenic is slow acting. Readily available at any farm supply store or greenhouse. It could easily have been added to a saltshaker or sugar bowl, allowing Mrs. Landis to unwittingly poison herself little by little.”

Zoe thought about what Wayne had said yesterday while in Abby’s hospital room. He’d been bothered by the idea of one killer using two different methods of homicide—Elizabeth having been shot and the others poisoned. But if the killer had poisoned her as well…

Zoe looked up at Davis. “You said arsenic is slow acting. How slow?”

“It can be very slow.”

“What if someone was trying to kill Elizabeth by poisoning her and got tired of waiting?”

Just like Loretta had gotten tired of waiting for Franklin to die of natural causes.

  

Pete had almost ignored the call from Zoe and was glad he didn’t. He stuck his head back into the interview room. “Detective? Could you step out here for a moment?”

Once Baronick joined him in the hall, Pete showed him his notebook. The detective read about the arsenic and raised his eyes to Pete’s. “What the hell?”

“That’s my reaction too.”

Baronick read the note a second time. “Someone was poisoning Elizabeth Landis,” he said. “And then someone else shot her before she succumbed to the arsenic? Two different killers?”

“Or the same one. The poison wasn’t working fast enough so he—or she—changed methods.”

“If at first you don’t succeed…” Baronick didn’t complete the cliché and didn’t need to. He returned the notebook. “Our killer started with a poison. Arsenic. Didn’t have the desired effect and switched to a firearm to finish the job. Years later, more people need to be killed so they revert to their preferred manner of murder. Poison. Only they’ve learned from past mistakes and switch to a substance that gives faster and deadlier results.”

Pete couldn’t fault the logic, but the puzzle pieces still weren’t falling into place. “We’re still missing something.”

“Let’s find out what that is.” Baronick opened the door and led the way back into the interview room.

Pete reclaimed his chair and flipped to a new page in his notebook. “Let’s move on from Gina Wagner for now.”

“Thank you.” Downey’s voice oozed sarcasm.

Pete met Loretta’s dark eyes. “Let’s discuss your late husband.”

“What about him?” Downey asked. Once again, Pete imagined Loretta as a ventriloquist, working the attorney’s mouth.

“You’ve lived out of the area for a number of years,” Pete said. “When did you return?”

Downey leaned over and whispered into Loretta’s ear. The widow responded by whispering back. Downey nodded.

“Three weeks ago,” Loretta said.

“What brought you back?”

“My husband was ill and needed me.”

“How long had it been since you’d last seen or talked to him?”

“I moved away about eight years ago. He called to tell me about his health last month.” Loretta lifted her chin. “I came as soon as I could.”

Pete suspected Marshall’s health wasn’t all they’d discussed. “Why?”

“I already told you. He needed me to care for him.”

“In what way did you provide care?”

Downey rapped the table with her pen. “Stop wasting our time, Chief Adams. Do you really want to discuss the intricacies of caring for a sick man?”

“No, because I don’t believe Mrs. Marshall provided any assistance to her husband.” Pete stared hard at Loretta and noticed a subtle shift in her dark eyes. “I think her husband told her he’d written her out of his will, and she returned to convince him to reconsider. When he didn’t, she decided to locate and destroy the new will to ensure she’d inherit his entire estate when he died.”

“I don’t hear any question there,” Downey said. She glanced at her client. “Don’t say a word.”

Loretta’s eyes hardened and remained locked on Pete. “There was no revised will. I’m Frank’s sole beneficiary.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve looked for it.” She must’ve realized what she’d said and immediately clamped her mouth shut.

“Not another word,” Downey said. “This interview is over.”

Pete ignored the attorney. “You didn’t look in the right place.”

Downey closed her briefcase and stood. “We’re done here.” She looked down at Loretta. “Let’s go.”

But Loretta didn’t budge. And didn’t look away from Pete.

“Mr. Marshall’s secretary found it. And, as I’m sure you know, you no longer stand to inherit one cent.”

“Enough,” Downey said, placing both hands on the table and leaning toward Pete.

He kept his gaze on the widow. The news had rocked her. Taking advantage of her vulnerability, he shifted forward in his chair. “That’s right, Loretta. You killed your husband for nothing.”