The policeman shook his head. “Nope. Although we haven’t finished backgrounds on everybody who might have had access to her at the hospital. That will take a while. But there was a history of domestic violence.”
Zachary mentally berated himself for not doing police and courthouse searches of all of the individuals close to Robin. “Lawrence? He certainly didn’t seem the type.”
“It wasn’t Lawrence. There were several police incident files and a protective order. You’ll have to search them up yourself, I can’t divulge any details.”
“I was so focused on medical error or euthanasia, it didn’t even occur to me to look at domestic violence.”
“They are probably completely unrelated,” Campbell said. “More than likely, you’re right. You don’t usually see domestic violence turn into poisoning, or whatever else happened here. It’s just not the natural progression. But… things may turn out to be different in this case.”
“Yeah. It’s been a curious case from the start. Bridget getting so wound up over Robin dying when she did… it’s not like her. She has pretty good intuition, so I had to check it out.”
“What are you onto tomorrow?”
“I’m hoping to talk to the family again. But maybe I should search up these cases first, so I have the background…”
“No. I’d go ahead and interview the family members first. The public records can wait. It’s not like they’re going anywhere, and like I said, they’re probably not related at all.”
Zachary was baffled. “You’re not going to tell me to stay away from the family until your officers have had a chance to talk to them?”
“No. You’re a good investigator. If you find anything suspicious, you can pass it on to me. If my officers go in there asking questions… the family’s backs will be up before they even start. They’ll be guarded. They might have to be Mirandized at some point. But a private citizen doesn’t have to worry about Miranda warnings. Things can move more naturally and might leak out. I know you’re good at worming your way in.” Campbell cleared his throat. “My officers will still need to interview them, but they might just have to be busy with other things tomorrow. You’ll tell me if you find anything significant?”
Zachary did report to the police when he had to, but normally he kept information to himself. Robin Salter’s case was not a collaboration with the police, and he needed to make sure that was understood.
“If something is reportable,” he hedged.
“Come on, Zachary. You can do better than that.”
“I can’t promise to tell you everything I find. I don’t know if anything will be relevant to Robin’s case. But if I find evidence of a crime, I’ll let you know.”
“I came here tonight, without any prompting, to let you know what was on my radar. You wouldn’t have found out about this history otherwise. I scratch your back, you can’t return the favor?”
“I appreciate the information. I’ll follow up on it after I interview the family.” Unless, of course, Campbell was trying to push Zachary into interviewing the family while he followed the case in another direction, like wherever those domestic violence charges led. He might have to pursue them both simultaneously, splitting his time and attention in two different directions. “I’m just saying that I’m a private investigator. Not one of your cops. You can’t expect me to report back to you like that.”
Campbell wrinkled his nose and made a sour expression. He pressed his hands to the arms of the chair to push himself up. “That’s not being very cooperative, my friend. I expected a little more gratitude from you.”
Zachary stood up as well. “I’ll do what I can,” he hedged. “But I don’t work for you.”
Zachary always dreaded car problems. Having no real understanding of anything other than the basic maintenance required to keep the metal beasts running, he was always worried that the mechanic’s bill was going to run to the thousands and something huge like the engine or the transmission would need to be replaced. Maybe he should have had Ray-Ray take a look at it for him. At five years old, Ray-Ray’s knowledge of the inner workings of cars far outstripped Zachary’s, and probably that of a lot of mechanics too.
So in the morning and with a tight knot of dread in his stomach, Zachary called Jergens to see when he was going to be able to get his car back and what the bill was going to be like.
“Oh, Zachary, I was going to give you a call.” Jergens always sounded hoarse and secretive, like he was doing something dishonest and was afraid someone was going to overhear him. But he was as honest as the day was long, and Zachary trusted him not to run up the bill despite Zachary’s ignorance of all things automobile related.
Was it a good thing or a bad thing that Zachary was already on his list of people to call? It couldn’t have taken too long to figure out what was wrong with his car. That could mean the engine or transmission was totally wrecked.
“Uh-oh. Is it bad?”
Jergens chuckled. “Oh, yeah, Zach. We’re going to have to completely replace your… spark plugs.”
Zachary let out his breath. Even he knew that replacing spark plugs was not expensive or complicated. “Whew. I was really worried about it. What’s wrong with the old ones? Are they just… worn out?”
It was a pretty new car, and while he had bought it used he hadn’t expected to have any big bills in the near future. It seemed odd that the spark plugs would be worn out already.
“They’re missing.”
“Missing? How could they be missing? It was working earlier yesterday. They can’t just… fall off, can they?”
“No. Definitely not. Somebody would have had to remove them. Someone sabotaged your car.”
Zachary swore under his breath. He started considering the possibilities. It wasn’t just random vandalism. Someone who didn’t know him and was just out to commit mischief might key his car or slash his tires, but they wouldn’t go to all of the work to get his hood open and remove his spark plugs. That was targeted. Someone sending him a message. Somebody was telling him that they didn’t like what he was doing and wanted him to get lost.
While he always had several cases on the go, and it could be any number of disgruntled husbands, employees, or insurance claimants, there was really only one that prominent. Cheating spouses rarely went after the private investigator, rarely even knew who it was. And if they did, it was yelling, a slap in the face, something confrontational.
Spark plugs pulled from his car while he was doing interviews meant someone was unhappy with the Robin Salter investigation. One of the hospital staff? One of the police officers who didn’t like him being involved? Lawrence Long or someone from Robin’s family?
“Zachary?”
Zachary looked at his phone, disoriented for a moment. “Oh, Jergens. Sorry, I spaced.”
“I said if you can catch a cab or bus over here, it can be ready for you this morning. I just don’t have time to drop it off to you.”
“Yeah, that would be great. I can find my way over there.”
“Great. I’ll see you later, and you can tell me about the case you’re on.”
Chapter Sixteen
I
t was Gloria who answered the door, her mouth an angry red slash across her otherwise stony face. It was a pretty good indicator right from the start that they didn’t want Zachary sticking his nose into their business.
“Mr. Goldman,” she greeted stiffly, and motioned him into the living room, where he had visited with Vera before. “My mother will join us in a moment. She’s just getting Rhys settled.”
It seemed strange to be talking about getting a teenager settled like she would a fractious baby or toddler. From everything Zachary had heard, Rhys was emotionally traumatized, not mentally handicapped or developmentally delayed. But Zachary had yet to meet Rhys face-to-face, so he wasn’t able to make any judgments.
Zachary browsed over the pictures on the mantel again. This time, he wasn’t trying to identify the members of the family and
their relationships to each other. He was looking for bruises or any other signs of abuse. He was looking for the way they stood together, touched, and looked at each other, searching for subtle clues showing who had been afraid of whom. Who had been abused and who had been the abuser. He saw no bruises on either Robin or Gloria. None on Rhys either, for that matter. Zachary was a good observer, but he didn’t spot anything out of place in the pictures.
Vera came into the room, her head slightly down, feet shuffling across the floor.
“I really appreciate you seeing me again,” Zachary told both women. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“I don’t know what you’re here for,” Gloria complained. “I don’t understand why the police are getting involved. All of this is just nonsense. Robin died of cancer. They can’t go around exhuming everyone who has died of cancer, complaining that someone must have done it on purpose. People die. Especially people who are as ill as Robin was.”
“I know,” Zachary soothed. He kept the role he was playing planted firmly in his mind. He was supposed to be supporting their position, trying to prove to Bridget that there was nothing to be concerned about. No accident. No intention to kill. Just a woman who had come to the end of her natural life. “I’m sorry for disturbing you again like this. If we can just work through a few questions, I’m sure this will be the end of it and you can just go on with your lives and getting through the grieving process.”
They all sat down. Zachary looked for a natural starting point.
“You’ve been talking to the police?”
“No, not yet, but I’m sure that’s coming,” Gloria declared. “They’ve been talking to the staff at the hospital. We’ve had reporters calling here. Reporters!” She said it like it was the most incredible thing she’d ever heard. “Calling here and asking questions about why the police would be opening an investigation into Robin’s death. We had to keep telling them that we had no idea. Why would the police be looking into the death of a cancer patient?”
He wasn’t about to tell them that he was the one who had prompted them to open a death investigation.
“One of them asked me if Robin had committed suicide,” Vera said, shaking her head in confusion. “Why would they think that?”
“It’s probably just a natural conclusion. She was terminally ill and she died before the doctors expected her to. Some patients do choose their own exit time.”
“Robin would never have done that,” Vera insisted.
“Even if she did,” Gloria said, “it wouldn’t be anyone’s business but the family’s. It’s legal in Vermont. There wouldn’t be any need for a police investigation into something legal.”
“No, of course not,” Zachary agreed. “If Robin had applied for physician assisted suicide, there would be a paper trail. The doctor would just show the paperwork to the police.”
“That isn’t what happened,” Vera insisted.
“No,” Zachary agreed. “I know it isn’t.”
“Your wife thinks it was a medical error.” Gloria leaned forward, looking at Zachary intently. “She said that’s what you’re trying to find out. But that you don’t believe it was.”
“I don’t know…” Zachary rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to look sheepish. “I don’t like to second-guess my wife. She’s the one who knew Robin. She’s the one who lived at that hospital like Robin did… but,” a regretful head shake, “I just don’t see it. I think she’s jumping at shadows.”
“Exactly,” Gloria agreed. “If Robin had decided to end her own life, she would have told us. She would have said something. And the doctors and nursing staff doing something to her…? They were nothing but gracious and helpful. Heaven knows Robin could be difficult!”
“Gloria,” Vera objected. “Don’t talk about your sister that way.”
“It’s not going to change anything now, is it? It’s true. The way she complained and ran those nurses off their feet sometimes! But they were very kind and patient with her.”
Zachary nodded. “They all seemed very professional there. I don’t imagine it’s an easy place to work.”
“Not a job I would want,” Gloria agreed.
“Especially a unit like that, with terminal patients. I don’t think I’d be able to function, knowing so many of them were going to die. Unable to do anything to stop the progress of their disease. Not able to do anything for their pain, in the end.”
Vera dabbed at watery eyes. “Even just having Robin there was so difficult. Seeing so many other people, some of them whose disease was even more advanced than Robin’s, knowing she was going to go through that… it was so difficult.”
Gloria sent a warning look toward her mother. “I imagine you would get used to it if you worked there,” she said briskly.
“Maybe,” Zachary said. “I’m not sure if I ever could.”
Vera sniffled. “You wife is lucky that she went into remission. She might have still had to go through the pain of treatment, but she didn’t have to face death the same way as Robin did when she was told the cancer had metastasized.”
“Ma,” Gloria warned again.
“You didn’t ever wish… that there was something you could do to make Robin feel better?” Zachary ventured.
“Of course, all the time,” Gloria said. “Who wouldn’t? But there wasn’t anything we could do. The doctor could give her pain prescriptions and stuff to help her sleep, but they couldn’t take away the cancer. And if they couldn’t do that, she knew she was going to die sooner or later.”
“None of the staff ever suggested that they could give her higher doses of painkillers or sleeping pills? Or that you could?”
“No.” Vera spoke the word sharply, almost making Zachary jump with her sudden vehemence. “No one ever said anything like that.”
“Okay.” He made a calming motion with his hands. “Sometimes it is done that way. Making a patient comfortable, even at the expense of their body’s ability to keep functioning.”
“No. We would never do that.”
Zachary nodded that he understood.
“Gram?”
Zachary startled. He whipped his head around to find Rhys standing there, looking at them. Vera stood up immediately
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay, it’s nothing you need to worry about,” she soothed. “Come on, why don’t you show me your homework? You didn’t get everything done that fast, did you?”
He shook his head. Zachary watched the skinny, sad-looking boy until they were back out of sight. He turned and looked at Gloria, trying to control his shock.
“It’s a school holiday,” Gloria advised, misinterpreting his surprise.
“I thought he couldn’t speak.”
“He can, physically,” Gloria said. She took a deep breath and let it out. She rubbed at the fatigue lines on her forehead. “Obviously. He’ll often go days without a word, and when he does, it’s usually like that. Just a one- or two-word request. If you push him for more, he’ll just shut down. They call it selective mutism, but that doesn’t mean he can choose to talk or not. There are times when he is able to talk and times when he is not. Some kids with selective mutism are little chatterboxes at home but then can’t get anything out at school. For Rhys, it’s not like that. One word or phrase, or no words. Usually.”
“How does he communicate with you? Does he sign? Write?”
“No. He… doesn’t usually attempt any kind of direct communication. He is capable of speech, writing, gesture… but he just withdraws into himself. It’s been like that ever since my father passed.”
“How does he do his homework, then?” Zachary indicated the direction Rhys and Vera had gone with a jerk of his head.
“It depends what kind of work it is. He’s best at math. No need for words, it’s just like solving a puzzle. In other subjects, he’s pretty good with short answer or multiple choice. Long answer…” Gloria shook her head. “He just can’t seem to be able to tell us what’s in his head, to communicate
what he’s thinking. He does modified assignments in place of essays or creative writing.”
“Poor guy,” Zachary said. What had happened ten years before that had traumatized him so much that he couldn’t share his own thoughts, even about completely unrelated subjects? “It must be very difficult to parent a child you can’t communicate with or understand.”
He was thinking about the children he had met at Summit Learning Center, autistic or non-speaking, and how difficult it was for their parents to know what was bothering them or what else was going on in their heads. He had heard stories of children who were non-speaking and had no way to communicate more than the most basic needs for the first twenty years of life, but when introduced to alternative communication or assistive devices, were discovered to be capable of complex reasoning and deep self-reflection.
“I can communicate with him,” Gloria disagreed. “He understands everything I tell him. That doesn’t mean he listens to me all the time. Just like any teenager, he’s got a mind of his own and he doesn’t always want to do what mom tells him to. I can communicate with him just fine.”
“But just because he understands you, that doesn’t mean that you can understand what he is thinking and would want to tell you, if he could.”
She shook her head in irritation. “You don’t know anything about my boy, Mr. Goldman. Just because you don’t know what he’s thinking, that doesn’t mean his own mama can’t. I know what’s going on in his head. I know my own boy.”
But she wasn’t the one who had responded to Rhys’s call and left the room to help him. She wasn’t the one who had been ‘settling’ him at the beginning of their interview. Zachary didn’t want to antagonize her, so he shifted the conversation.
“How has Rhys been handling Robin’s illness and death? It must be pretty hard on him.”
“Why?” Gloria demanded.
“She’s his aunt… part of his family. You all lived here together, before Robin got sick, didn’t you? She’s always been part of his household.”
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