The Good Girl's Guide to Murder: A Debutante Dropout Mystery

by McBride, Susan

  Brian ran a finger under the collar of his shirt, eyes bugging at me, pleading silently for help.

  Unfortunately, I was running low on ammo at the moment, so I did what I could, which amounted to giving my mother the evil eye. For all the good it would do. At this point in our lives, she was used to my dirty looks.

  Footsteps sounded on the floor, and a sturdy female in a white coat strode into the waiting room. She clutched a rather substantial manila folder in her right hand. A badge was clipped to her breast pocket, and a stethoscope coiled around her neck. The overhead fluorescents lent a yellow tinge to cocoa brown skin, but otherwise her attractive features appeared rather stoic. She looked cool and composed in contrast to the frazzled state of everyone else in the room.

  She also looked vaguely familiar, though I didn’t know why.

  “Mrs. Mabry?” she asked, glancing about the room with dark eyes. For a moment, her gaze settled on my mother, and her mouth parted slightly.

  Cissy nodded.

  What was that about?

  “Over here.” Marilee quickly rose to her feet, Justin propping her up with his hand beneath her elbow. “I’m Marilee Mabry,” she said. “How is Kendall, Doctor . . .?”

  “Taylor.”

  “Dr. Taylor, yes, where is Kendall? What’s going on? When can I see her?”

  “Perhaps you’d like to talk privately,” Dr. Taylor suggested, the cue all too clear to me. “I can find an empty room.”

  I gently prodded my mother, thinking we should go. “C’mon, let’s go check out the vending machine,” I said, though Cissy didn’t budge an inch.

  “Would you like us to leave, Mari?” my mother asked.

  “No, no, please, stay,” she said, then faced the doctor again. “I want them here, if you don’t object. They’re as close to family as I’ve got.” She clutched at Justin, and her eyes moistened. Her mascara had further smeared after her latest histrionics, giving her the appearance of a rabid raccoon. “So, you may talk freely about my daughter. Will she be all right? Did you find out what caused her to pass out? Where is she?”

  “Let’s take it one issue at a time, Mrs. Mabry.” The doctor raised a pink-palmed hand. “First off, your daughter’s on her way up as we speak. Her vital signs are weak but stable, and she is conscious, though she’ll be extremely groggy when you see her. I won’t allow visiting for long. She needs to rest. She’s had a rough evening.”

  Marilee nodded. “Yes, yes, I understand.”

  “As far as what happened”—Dr. Taylor crossed her arms over the manila file, her brow crinkling beneath tight brown curls—“we’re still piecing that together. I’m hoping you all can help us figure out some of the puzzle.” She glanced our way again. “Are you certain you want me speaking openly? There are privacy rules that I’m supposed to follow . . .”

  Mother sniffed. “Here we go again.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the rules!” Marilee bristled, clutching her hands to fists. “For God’s sake, get to the point. What’s wrong with my child? Why did she collapse?”

  The ponytailed woman in scrubs watched from the nurses’ station. She picked up a telephone receiver then put it down again.

  “Let’s start with Kendall’s medical history, or at least what we have from the records available,” Dr. Taylor resumed in a soft, controlled tone. “Though it doesn’t appear she’s been seen here recently, she was examined in the past by several different specialists—most notably, a psychiatrist, a podiatrist, and a gastroenterologist—at this facility. We don’t have all the notes at our disposal, but we have enough.” She paused, pursing her lips, before she went on. “There are well-healed scars at her wrists which indicate a suicide attempt . . .”

  “That was years ago,” Marilee cut her off, sounding tearful. “Kendall was out of control then, torn apart by the divorce and feeling neglected. She only wanted my attention.”

  Scars at her wrists.

  My God.

  I pressed my eyes closed and envisioned the silver bracelets lined up on Kendall’s forearms. Put there to hide the evidence of a failed suicide attempt? I never saw her without rows of bracelets, wrapped around her like Slinkies, and now I knew why.

  “My daughter has not tried anything of the sort since,” Marilee insisted. “So I won’t believe it if you tell me that’s what this episode was. She’s thrilled about my show. She loves being at the studio. She’s as happy as she’s ever been.”

  Thrilled? Happy?

  Kendall?

  I considered the young woman with whom I’d argued in Marilee’s office. “Thrilled” and “happy” were definitely not words I’d use to describe her. I could think of others that suited her better: sullen, moody, confused, and manipulative.

  “Hold on a minute, Mrs. Mabry. I’m not implying that Kendall’s collapse was self-inflicted, perhaps not intentionally. Please, bear with me.” The doctor shifted on her sensible pumps, gripping Kendall’s records with both hands. “The notes show that your daughter was diagnosed with depression and an eating disorder . . .”

  “Again in the past,” Marilee interjected. “She’s cured of those.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Doctor, really.”

  I rolled my eyes, wondering how a mother could think her daughter was “cured” when she looked like a human toothpick.

  “She reportedly suffered from bulimia.” Dr. Taylor flipped open the chart in her hands and glanced at the pages within. “Which caused erosion of the esophagus and decay to her tooth enamel. About six months ago, her gastro prescribed Prevacid for acid reflux, at the same time her podiatrist placed her on an antifungal for an infection . . .”

  “Because of her ugly toenails,” Marilee jumped in. “But that was all before.”

  “Before what?”

  Marilee turned to her blond beau and stroked his arm. “Before Justin. He weaned her off her prescriptions, you see. All the pills she used to take for her stomach, for her nerves, and to get to sleep. She said they made her feel funky, like her heart was jumping out of her chest.” Justin stood like a mannequin, his chiseled features impassive. “Jussie’s a certified personal trainer, and he’s studied ancient Chinese nutrition.”

  The doctor sucked in her cheeks, looking irritated rather than impressed. “So you’re a holistic healer, Mr. . . .?”

  “Gable,” Marilee said for him. “Justin Gable.”

  “What kind of a regimen was Kendall on, might I ask?”

  “I didn’t do anything illegal,” Justin began, but Marilee cut him off at the pass.

  “He started her on a liquid juice fast several months ago to detoxify her system.” Marilee held on to Justin’s arm, though I noticed he kept clenching and unclenching his fingers. “Kendall rarely touched alcohol anymore, and she was eating healthier, gaining a little weight back. Justin had her on herbal supplements. She finally felt her energy return.”

  “Herbal supplements?” Dr. Taylor cocked her head. “Like what?”

  When Justin didn’t respond, Marilee turned to him. “Go on. You tell her. I can’t remember all the names of those things.”

  “Yes, do tell, Mr. Gable. I’m very interested to hear.”

  “Kendall took only what she needed.” Justin seemed reluctant to answer, his eyes frequently casting down toward his shoes. “Antioxidant vitamins, ginseng for energy, and echinacea to treat infection and inflammation. Sometimes, maybe deer velvet,” he added, voice softening to a near whisper.

  “Deer velvet?” the doctor repeated. “I’m not sure I’m familiar with it.”

  “It simulates the immune system,” he said. “It can also, um, improve sexual function.” He blushed.

  Marilee looked at him.

  “But the deer velvet was merely intended to build up her resistance to bacteria and viruses,” Justin added quickly. “Kendall was so prone to colds.”

  Right, resistance to bacteria, I thought and wanted to utter, “ha!”

  “It’s important, Mr. Gable. W
hat else was she on?” Dr. Taylor pressed, making notes in Kendall’s chart with a pen from her lab coat pocket.

  He rolled his head back, glancing at the ceiling. “She took kava kava on occasion, for her anxiety and mood swings.”

  “Did she have any this evening?” The doctor’s brown eyes watched him closely.

  “She was nervous about the party, so it’s possible. I don’t keep the herbal supplements under lock and key, okay? Occasionally, I’ve made her protein smoothies from my own recipes, but she had access to whatever she needed, and she knew what levels were safe for her.”

  “Safe for her, huh?” Frowning, Dr. Taylor shook her head and scribbled. “Anything else, Mr. Gable? Any other supplements you’ve given her lately?”

  Even white teeth pulled on his bottom lip. “Kendall has taken ma huang. But it’s not like I forced her.”

  “Ma huang? That’s ephedra, right?”

  “It’s a purer form, yes.”

  “So it’s more potent?”

  “Yes.”

  “The substance was banned for sale by the FDA,” the doctor said.

  “But it’s still available,” he insisted and smoothed his hands over his lapels before he shoved them in his jacket pockets. “Anyone who wants to can find it on the Internet, and it’s safe when used appropriately. The FDA’s being unreasonable, and it won’t stop people from getting it. Kendall used it to keep her appetite down . . .”

  “Her appetite?” the doctor scoffed. “She can’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds.”

  “She also used it for flare-ups of her asthma. Sometimes she’d get short of breath if she exerted herself.”

  “I see.” But it didn’t sound as if Dr. Taylor “saw” at all. “So you assumed the shortness of breath was respiratory? Are you a pulmonologist, too, Mr. Gable?”

  “No.” His nostrils flared.

  “How much was she taking?” The doctor flipped Kendall’s chart closed and shoved it under her armpit. She looked like she wanted to smack Justin upside the head with it.

  “Never more than the recommended dosage,” he said and pushed the lock of hair off his brow. His eyes avoided Marilee. “I advised her to go off the ma huang every few weeks to give her system a chance to breathe. I assume she followed my instructions. It’s not my fault if she didn’t. I’m not her keeper.”

  “Since we detected toxic levels in her system, I’d have to agree with that assessment, sir. How could you expect her to follow such an unsupervised regime, and when you didn’t even know her medical status?”

  “Toxic levels? No way. It’s not possible.” He scratched his forehead, doing a good impression of befuddled. “Believe me when I say that I had no idea, Doctor. I can’t imagine Kendall would do something so foolish, but, then again, she’s rather impulsive and has a tendency toward self-destructiveness.”

  I waited for the doctor to respond, half-expecting her to throw the book at him for practicing holistic medicine without a license (if there was such a thing).

  But she surprised me.

  “This conversation has been highly enlightening, I must say, particularly as it relates to Kendall’s well-being.” She kept her tone even, but her body language radiated disapproval. She had her hands on her hips, chart tucked away on the right side. “First, I believe you actually did her a favor, Mr. Gable, by taking Kendall off the Prevacid and the antifungal, which she should never have taken at once. The combination would’ve been as dangerous to her system as the kava kava and ephedra—excuse me, ma huang—you’ve been doling out to her, sir. I’m surprised she didn’t collapse prior to this evening considering the severity of her heart condition. She should have been seeing a cardiologist to monitor her arrhythmia.”

  “Arrhythmia?” Justin’s voice went up like Mickey Mouse. “What are you saying? Kendall didn’t have a heart problem.”

  “Oh, yes, she did. And I’m tempted to include the police in our debate here about whether or not what you did for Kendall was negligent at best, criminal at worst . . .”

  “The police? There was nothing wrong with my advising Kendall about herbal remedies,” Justin countered, his face suddenly sapped of color, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Hold on a minute here!” Marilee wailed. “Kendall’s a grown woman. Justin didn’t do anything against her will, and he had no more idea about any heart condition that I did. If she had a problem, surely I would have known. I’ve sent her to more doctors in the past few years than I’ve seen my whole life.”

  I considered the litany of problems Kendall had professed to suffering, and I wondered how anyone could’ve honestly believed she was healthy or sound.

  “I’ve been diagnosed as hyperactive, depressed, anorexic, bulimic, and suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder and abandonment—not to mention having migraines, hormonal imbalances, and God knows what else.”

  It was all I could do not to shout, “Kendall’s a frigging mess! Can’t you see that?” Though I figured Marilee had been too busy worrying about her career and her love life to take a good hard look at her own daughter.

  I bit my tongue.

  Malone must’ve seen my shoulders stiffen, as I felt his hands settle on either side of my neck. He gave a gentle squeeze, and I leaned back against him.

  “Kendall might’ve seen a lot of doctors, but apparently none of them ever administered an ECG, according to her records,” Dr. Taylor said, slipping the chart from beneath her arm and patting it with the palm of her hand.

  “An ECG?” Marilee looked puzzled.

  “An echocardiogram. We use ultrasound to evaluate the heart for abnormalities. When Kendall was brought in, we hooked her up to both an ECG and an EKG, an electrocardiogram, because we detected an arrhythmia,” the doctor explained. Then she lifted her chin, looking squarely at Marilee. “What we found was that Kendall has a prolonged QT rhythm . . . her ventricular heart rhythm is off more than a few beats.”

  “And that’s not good?” Marilee asked, not looking so good herself.

  “No. In fact, it’s very bad. It’s called long QT syndrome. It’s often inherited. Certain drugs and”—Taylor’s eyes went to Justin—“herbal supplements are contraindicated and can lead to shortness of breath or more serious complications, like syncopal episodes . . . passing out,” she clarified. “Which is likely what happened to her tonight.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the herbs. She was drinking,” Justin interjected. “She had champagne.”

  “No,” Dr. Taylor stated emphatically. “It wasn’t the champagne that did this to her. It was the high dose of ephedra”—she waved a hand dismissively as Justin started to correct her—“the ma huang, whatever you want to call it. She had a large enough dose in her bloodstream to knock a heart-healthy person off her feet. But someone with long QT”—she shook her head—“I’m surprised it didn’t kill her. She could’ve gone into sudden cardiac arrest. It would’ve looked exactly like a heart attack on autopsy, and no one would’ve been the wiser.”

  Chapter 15

  A pair of orderlies rolled Kendall past us and into a private room.

  She was hooked up to an IV and a beeping monitor that scooted along with her, and I glimpsed her face on the pillow, dark hair on white. Her skin had the translucence of skim milk, beyond pale with a tinge of blue.

  Marilee followed the doctor and orderlies into the room. She moaned all the while, calling, “Kendall? Darling, it’s Mummy. I’m here for you.”

  Justin started to follow, and I put a hand on his arm, refusing to let go when he tried to pull away.

  “Why don’t you let them alone, just for a while? They don’t need you getting in between them, not now.”

  “You have no clue how important I am to them, do you?” he said, staring hard at me. “I watch out for them, care for them in a way no one else around them does. I make sure Kendall’s lies don’t get out of hand, and I keep the peace between her and Mari. I would never hurt either one, despite what you think. I’d rather cut
off my right arm than harm a woman.”

  Nice sales pitch, buddy, but I wasn’t buying.

  I didn’t back off. “You’ve already hurt them plenty, and not just with your herbal mumbo-jumbo,” I replied, “by sleeping with mother and daughter. Don’t you get what that does to Kendall? It tears her up inside.”

  “You think I did this to her on purpose? You think I’m the reason she’s here?”

  “Aren’t you?” I asked him.

  He looked over at the door of the room into which they’d taken Kendall. Then he shrugged off my hand and muttered, “I need some fresh air. It’s too damned stuffy.”

  He sauntered off in his athletic stride, though I didn’t admire any part of him, not anymore.

  I found myself hoping he wouldn’t come back. Kendall didn’t need him around.

  Good riddance, I mused and moseyed back over to where my mother and Malone idled in the waiting room, the television flashing silent images above them.

  “What did you say to him?” Cissy asked.

  I told her, “Nothing.”

  She obviously didn’t believe me, but I didn’t care.

  So the three of us stood there, not really talking, just glancing at one another awkwardly, none of us quite sure of what to do.

  Brian finally made a move, slipping away and heading over to the Mr. Coffee. I saw him pick up the glass carafe and examine what was left at the bottom before he returned it to the warmer.

  He wandered back, hands in his pockets. “Don’t think I want to chance drinking that poison, although at least I’m in the right place to do it, huh?”

  Mother’s face lit up, and one of her tweezed-to-the-bone brows arched. “Poison, did you say?”

  “Oh, God, please, no,” I said. “Don’t go there again.”

  “Go where?” Malone gave me a puzzled look.

  “She thinks Justin tried to snuff Kendall,” I told him.

  “Snuff her?” he repeated.

  “Mother has this cockamamie theory that he slipped a deadly dose of ma huang into her champagne to knock her off so he could be first in line for Marilee’s money.”

  “Cockamamie?” Cissy sniffed. “It’s a banned substance, sweetie, weren’t you listening? And did you see how fast he took off? Doubtless afraid that the police would be called in.”