Not good, but at least not a heart attack. "Will she have to have surgery?"
"They won't know until they do more tests."
"As if you care," Angora said.
Roxann turned to see Angora had awakened. She was surprised at the venom in her cousin’s voice. "How are you feeling?"
"Lousy. And I don't want you here."
She pulled back. "Why?"
"I'll step out into the hall," Mr. Brown offered, then skedaddled.
Angora's mouth tightened. "Are you happy now that I'm on my deathbed and accused of murder?"
"You're not on your deathbed, and how can you think that I'd be happy about any of this?"
"You told the police things I said." Angora sat up, her red eyes welling. "Things I told you in confidence. They think I murdered Carl because of you and your jealousy."
She frowned. "Jealousy?"
Angora leaned forward, her eyes wide and glazed. "You couldn't stand the thought of Carl and me together, so you sneaked over to spy on us."
"You're wrong." Roxann crossed her arms. "I had heard some bad things about Carl, and I was worried about you. But when I got there, I realized it was wrong and that you're old enough to take care of yourself."
"That's right," Angora flung back. "Haven't you interfered enough in my life?"
Roxann gaped. "Interfered? If you recall, I've gotten you out of more than one jam."
Angora narrowed her eyes. "And if I recall, you were rewarded nicely."
Her stomach leaped. "Angora, don't do this. You're upset."
She flailed against the sheets, eyes wild. "And why shouldn't I be? My cousin is framing me for murder. I knew everyone else was out to get me, but I thought I could trust you."
Roxann eased down to sit on the end of the bed, maintaining level eye contact. It was the best way to calm an unstable person. "Angora," she said softly. "No one is out to get you—we all want to help. If you killed Carl in self-defense, you'll be acquitted."
But Angora became even more agitated. "I told you, and I told the police—I passed out!"
"And I believe you," Roxann assured her. At least she believed that Angora believed she'd passed out.
"No you don't," Angora said, pulling up her legs and hunkering against her pillow. "I think you did it, and you're setting me up. You've made my life miserable since we were kids—you had everything. You were prettier and smarter." Her face contorted and she assumed a "Dee" pose. "Angora, why can't you be more like Roxann?"
Roxann swallowed hard. "You're not being fair."
"Fair? Don't talk to me about fair." She laughed, a high-pitched screech. "My mother wanted you instead of me. She wanted you more than your own mother wanted you."
"That's not true."
"Oh, yes it is." Angora stabbed the air with an ink-stained finger. "The reason your father got custody of you after the divorce wasn't because he was trying to keep you from your mother—your mother didn't want you."
Her lungs shrank. "That's an ugly thing to say."
But Angora was triumphant. "It's true. Your mother didn't want you. And everyone in the family knew except you."
Roxann stood and stumbled back, shaking her head, replaying snatches of long-forgotten memories in her head—the custody hearing that had seemed so lopsided, plans to see her mother that always seemed to dissolve at the last minute. She thought her father had thwarted the visits, but had he been covering up for her mother all these years? Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, a mild reaction considering the fact that the foundation of her childhood beliefs had just been rocked. She whirled and ran smack into Capistrano, who, by the look on his face, had heard at least the end of their conversation. Face flaming, she charged around him. "I'm leaving."
But he captured her with one arm. "Dr. Oney just called. Frank Cape came to see her."
Alarm zigzagged through her limbs. "Is she okay?"
He nodded. "Just shaken up. She'd like to see you."
She puffed out her cheeks in an exhausted sigh. "Will you take me?"
"Of course." He waved a uniformed security officer forward. "I notified the police to be on the lookout for Cape, and I thought I'd have someone posted near your cousin in case he made an appearance here."
He'd thought of everything, and God, it was nice to be looked after, instead of doing the looking aftering. "Thank you."
He nodded, taking it all in stride, this being-in-charge thing. "Let's get out of here," he said, his eyes sympathetic.
"Roxann," Angora said behind them, her voice contrite. "Roxann, don't leave me here alone with a madman on the loose. I'm sorry for what I said. Roxann?"
But she was over Angora's tantrums, and tired of making excuses for her. At the doorway she turned back. "I never thought I'd say this, Angora, but you're your mother's daughter."
From the blanched look on Angora's face, the comment had hit its mark.
Chapter Twenty-three
ROXANN SLUMPED IN THE SEAT of Capistrano's truck and wondered what all the sane people in the world were doing. And to think a week ago she'd believed her life was complicated. Ha.
She glanced at her watch—six o'clock in the evening, and the longest day of her life seemed far from over. If she were in England, she'd be getting ready for bed about now. A memory stirred and she cursed.
"Was that meant for me?"
She sighed. "No. With all the commotion, I completely forgot about meeting Elise at the chapel."
"So call her. The police might want to question her anyway."
"I don't know where she's staying, but I guess I could check the local motels." In her mind she replayed the scene when she had spoken to Elise. "She said something interesting yesterday when I ran into her."
He grinned. "That you have a good bod?"
"You are so unfunny. She said she realized that all of her troubles stemmed from a relationship she had in college."
"Are you thinking she had a relationship with Dr. Seger?"
"That's making a pretty big leap."
"But since the man is dead, it's worth mentioning to the police." Then he grinned. "But it's still not as interesting as it would've been if she'd said you have a good bod."
"Shut. Up." She sighed. "When did Cape show up at Nell's?"
"Around four-thirty, but it took a while for Dr. Oney to track us down at the hospital."
"Poor Nell," she murmured. "First Carl's death, and now this."
"Maybe it isn't a coincidence. Maybe Frank Cape was making good on his threat to hurt people you were close to."
"But how did he know I was in South Bend?"
"Have you been using credit cards?"
"I don't have any."
"Your cell phone?"
"No, only pay phones. Besides, why would Cape think that I was close to Carl Seger? I hadn't seen Carl in years."
His shrug was a little too casual. "But you were in love with him?"
Love—another word she would have bet wasn't in the man's vocabulary. "Carl was the first man who listened to me, the first man who made me feel important."
"And the first man to break your heart?"
Roxann gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I was devastated when he didn't come for me after the scandal, but I thought it was out of some lofty sense of nobility." She waved her hand dramatically. "It somehow seemed even more poignant."
"And you've been pining for him ever since?"
"No, not pining. Wondering, maybe. It was pretty strong stuff for a young heart."
"Sounds like it," he said in a dubious tone.
"You've never been in love, Detective?"
He shifted in his seat, then fiddled with the radio knob. "Can't get a station worth a damn up here."
"I thought not." She smirked, then laid her head back. But she acknowledged a bit of a tingle at managing to put him on the spot.
Capistrano cleared his throat. "Listen, I couldn't help but overhear what your cousin said back there. It was probably the medication talking."
&nbs
p; "No it wasn't." She pushed herself up and stared out the window at clumps of Homecoming visitors, most of them probably oblivious to last night's murder, or immune because they hadn't known Carl personally. "A couple of years before my mother was killed in a car accident, she left me and my father for another man. Deep down, I've always known, but I've never admitted it to anyone. He drove a blue car."
He looked at her, his gaze straight and void of pity. It gave her the courage to forge ahead.
"And on some level, I guess I sensed my mother didn't want me after the divorce, but it was easier to believe that Dad was keeping me away from her."
"He never told you?"
"No."
"To protect you."
She nodded slowly. "Yes." For years her father had silently borne the brunt of her resentment, all the while knowing that her mother hadn't cared enough to stay. Or visit. Or even call. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and sniffed mightily. How she'd underestimated her father. And how she'd overestimated Carl. Who else? She glanced sideways at Capistrano. He hadn't mentioned Melissa Cape recently...was it possible that he was sticking around out of the goodness of his heart?
Nah. He'd said so himself—no one had ever accused him of being a nice guy.
He slowed to pull into Nell's narrow driveway. "Where's your van?"
"Around back."
"Well, I guess we know why Cape thought you were here."
She frowned. "Why didn't you put him out of everyone's misery back in Little Rock?"
"Nothing I would've liked better, except he wasn't doing anything."
"He was harassing me."
He brought the truck to a stop. "You said I was harassing you."
She unhooked her seat belt. "Well, next time, shoot him in the foot or something."
"I wouldn't waste a bullet there," he said, then turned off the ignition.
A locksmith was installing a new dead bolt on the door. Nell didn't answer their call right away, but when she did, her red eyes belied her welcoming smile.
"I'm so sorry," Roxann said, squeezing Nell's hands. "It's my fault that Frank Cape was here—did he hurt you?"
"No," she said, then motioned for them to sit in the living room. "Forgive me, it's just...everything. Carl's d-death, you girls being questioned, then that awful man showing up."
"How did he get in?" Capistrano asked.
"I don't know," she said. "The doors were locked. I was in the kitchen and he was suddenly standing there."
"What did he say?"
Nell's tongue darted in and out, and she scooped Chester from the floor to hold in her lap. She stroked his coat in a manner that was, hopefully, as soothing to her as to the purring animal. "He said he was looking for Roxann, said she could lead him to his wife and daughter. Said that no cop was going to scare him off."
Capistrano shifted in his chair. "Did he say anything that might make you think he was involved in Dr. Seger's murder?"
Her eyes widened. "Do you think he could have killed Carl? I thought Angora—"
"The police aren't sure," he cut in. "Cape did make threats on people who were close to Roxann. Please try to remember."
Her brow furrowed. "He just said to tell Roxann that he'd show up when she least expected it. Then he took a knife out of my butcher block and plunged it into a cutting board." She shivered. "Roxann, I know it goes against Rescue program policy, but maybe you could contact his wife and see if a reconciliation is possible. Or see if she would at least talk to the man."
Roxann gaped. "Nell, it required every ounce of strength that poor woman had to take her daughter away and start a new life. I can't just call her up now and encourage her to contact him." She looked at Capistrano. "You did not hear that."
He averted his eyes.
But her mentor was undaunted. "It was never the intent of the program to put the lives of the facilitators at risk. Frank Cape is a dangerous man, and there's been enough bloodshed around here. Perhaps I can intervene and get you out of the middle?"
"Maybe that's not a bad idea," Capistrano said.
Roxann glared at him. "It's a terrible idea."
"Dr. Oney," he said, "were you aware that if Cape's ex-wife comes forward to testify in a crime that Frank committed, we could put him away and she wouldn't have to worry?"
Nell glanced at Roxann. "Is this true?"
Roxann stuck her tongue in her cheek, still glaring at Capistrano. "Everything except the 'she wouldn't have to worry' part. You know how often these thugs get off on a technicality or are granted early release from prison."
Nell looked at Capistrano. "Can the police protect her?"
"Yes."
"Where is she?" Nell asked Roxann.
Roxann sprang up. "That's privileged information, Nell."
"And as a founder of this program, I'm making an executive decision to override policy for the good of everyone concerned." She set Chester down and he scampered away. "Roxann," Nell said, her voice breaking, "I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I'll...think about it."
Nell nodded, satisfied.
"Did Cape leave on his own?" the detective asked.
"After he made the threat, I was afraid he might hurt me, but there was a knock on the front door, and he went out the back." She turned a sad smile toward Roxann. "It was the university chancellor. He asked if I would help arrange a memorial service for Carl."
Just like Tammy Paulen. "Does he have family nearby?" If he had ever spoken of his family when they were together, she couldn't recall.
Nell shook her head. "Carl didn't have any family living. I heard him say several times that he wanted to be cremated and his ashes spread over the campus. I suggested to the chancellor that it would be best to wait until next week, after Homecoming. Maybe by then the police will have made an arrest." She looked at Roxann. "I know she's your cousin, Roxann, but I don't want to see Angora get away with murder again."
This morning Roxann had been willing to defend Angora, but now she was beginning to wonder if her cousin teetered on the edge of stability, and if returning to campus on the heels of her jilting simply had been too much for her. She said nothing.
Capistrano stood. "Dr. Oney, do you have somewhere safe to stay for a few days?"
She nodded slowly. "My sister lives in Indy. I can take the bus."
"Pack a bag and we'll take you to the station," he said. "Stay there until I can track down Frank Cape."
Nell didn't argue—she seemed relieved to be escaping the melee. "What about Roxann?"
"She'll stay with me."
Roxann blinked. She would? "I will?"
"Relax," he said. "My room has two double beds. But at least I can keep an eye on you."
Relax, he said.
Chapter Twenty-four
ROXANN RETURNED THE PHONE to its cradle. "Angora is having surgery in the morning." They were sequestered in his hotel room on separate "islands," she on one bed with the phone, Capistrano on the other mulling over a manila file of papers. He'd already blown the fully clothed rule she'd laid down by shucking his shirt, while she, on the other hand, still wore her jacket over the shirt he'd loaned her. Zipped.
And as far as shirtless went, he didn't look half bad. She'd never been attracted to a man with a hairy chest—not that she was attracted to this one. But it was…curious, all that dark hair lying close to his skin. And the muscles...
"Roxann?"
She jerked her head up. "Yes?"
"I asked how long she'll be in the hospital?"
Her cheeks warmed. "At least overnight, but I encouraged her attorney to consider a psych consult while she's there."
"The guy seemed like a greenhorn to me."
She bit her bottom lip. "I thought so, too, but he's nice. And he's staying with her at the hospital."
"Racking up those hourly charges."
"No, he took the case for practically nothing. For the experience, I suppose."
"Cape hasn't shown up?"
"No. What
are you working on?"
He scratched his head and leaned back against the headboard. His jean-clad legs extended almost the length of the bed. "Just trying to piece together elements of the murder. Sometimes if I keep going over the details, something new will spring out at me."
She swung her legs over the side of her bed to face him. "You know, you never once asked if I did it."
He looked up. "If you did what?"
"Killed Carl. I admitted that I went to his house that night, and he was found with my scarf around his neck, but you never asked."
Capistrano shrugged his massive shoulders. "Didn't have to. You're not wired to be dishonest. If you'd done it, you would've confessed, especially since your cousin is being accused." He turned back to his folder.
It piqued her, his pat psychoanalysis of her, even if it were true. The dishonest pact that she'd made with Angora years ago had eaten at her and she hadn't realized it, not even after her insides were gone. She'd avoided relationships of any kind, pawning it off on her schedule, her obligations, her commitments, when in reality, the Rescue program had been a handy emotional hideout. The sad part was that she still couldn't bring herself to come clean—everyone would be so disappointed in her. Nell. Her father. Capistrano. And wouldn't she then have to face the lie herself?
"Maybe you're biased," she offered.
He looked up again. "Because I'm attracted to you?"
She squirmed and zipped her jacket higher on her neck. He laughed, a big booming noise that made her frown. "How can you even think of sex when my life is such a nightmare?"
He shrugged. "You look sexy in my clothes. Besides, it might take your mind off things."
She sputtered. "Someone who once played an important role in my life was just murdered. I am a suspect, and my cousin, who is also a suspect, is in the hospital. Then there's that little matter of being dogged by a maniac."
"So you're saying you're not in the mood?"
She gave him the finger.
"Okay, okay," he said, seemingly unfazed, then looked back to his notes. "We'll have the medical examiner's report tomorrow. And they're checking for Cape's fingerprints at the scene of the crime."
Love Can Be Murder Box Set Page 74