Nothing provable, Max thought. Not then, not now. “You said that Jennifer forced Ginger to take the pills.”
“Ginger wouldn’t have done it if Jennifer hadn’t pressured her,” Kerry said.
Maybe, maybe not. But bullying someone and walking away wouldn’t even be considered a crime. It was still Ginger’s decision to kill herself. Maybe Jennifer pushed her, but without evidence of malicious coercion, no prosecutor would touch the case.
Kerry continued. “The video of Ginger came out anyway, and in the course of the investigation, the administration found illegal drugs, alcohol, and videos of several girls having sex with the same professor. Word got out that someone—and we all thought Jennifer—was blackmailing the professor. Yet the administration believed it was Ginger, because the tapes were found in her room.”
“And you don’t think she was responsible.”
“Ginger?” Kerry shook her head. “She’d never have thought up anything like that, let alone acted on it. Maybe she knew what Jennifer was doing.”
“How long was this blackmail going on?”
“At least a year, we learned,” Felicia said.
“I suspected Jennifer was involved with a professor, but she wasn’t on any of the tapes,” Kerry said. “But it would explain how she knew which professor was loose.”
Odd word choice.
“You can’t prove any of this,” Max said.
Felicia shook her head. “That’s why we never did anything about it. Just because someone’s a bitch doesn’t make them a vindictive criminal. Yet, something was going on between Ginger and Jennifer in the weeks leading up to the party where Ginger was filmed, and her subsequent suicide. I’d always wondered if Jennifer roofied Ginger then recorded her having sex with those guys.”
“She sounds like a peach,” Max said.
Kerry said, “She may be vindictive and cruel, but she’s smart. She avoided being expelled because again—no proof. She graduated early and married Christopher O’Neal, one of the top surgeons in Miami. He was considered the most eligible bachelor in the city. Thing was Christopher was seeing someone else. Me. Christopher and I were serious—but I was focused on my career, and he worked insane hours. Plus, there was a big age difference. We wanted to take it slow. I don’t know exactly what Jennifer did, but Christopher started seeing her when I went into a sixth-month advanced nursing program out of state. I don’t really blame him—we agreed to split up because I didn’t know where I’d end up working. Yet we talked almost every day for two months ... until it stopped. I learned later that she started seeing him, and they married in a quiet ceremony only months later.”
“This is all interesting, but it was over twenty years ago.” And it sounded like sour grapes. Kerry hates Jennifer because she married her ex-boyfriend.
“So?”
“Other than the situation with Ginger, what else can you tell me about Jennifer? In her resume, she worked at a major hospital—where she met O’Neal— and then at a senior care center.”
“Seniors?” She shook her head. “Jennifer has no bedside manner. She doesn’t even like people. She has no patience, doesn’t care for anyone or anything but herself. When Christopher finally came to his senses and divorced her, she nearly ruined his career. If he hadn’t kept absolutely meticulous notes, he could have been sued for wrongful death.”
“You’re going to have to explain that one—not only what she did, but how you know about it.”
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“Tell me.”
“I didn’t have an affair with Christopher, but his marriage was rocky and we started seeing each other. Just to talk. We didn’t get involved again until after they were legally separated.”
Max didn’t know whether she believed Kerry, but she decided, this once, to give her the benefit of the doubt on the subject.
“So you talked. And are now together?”
“Yes. But we’re not married—and we’ll probably never get married because of the number Jennifer played on him.”
“I need more than vague rumors and innuendo.”
“Why? The reason I came here was because you told Felicia Jennifer killed someone. Who? When? Why aren’t the police investigating?”
Max leaned back and assessed Kerry Osaka. She could be wrong about her, but she didn’t think she was. Kerry was defensive and protective of her lover, Dr. O’Neal. She hated Jennifer Markson, but seemed scared of her as well.
“I’m working undercover at Del Sol with the blessing of several of the residents who believe that a friend of theirs died under suspicious circumstances. Since, I’ve learned six other people died in their sleep after short illnesses. None had been hospitalized, all had vague flu-like symptoms. All had been long-term residents of Del Sol and paid lower than average monthly rates to live there. But what clinched it for me is that one of the victims didn’t have any illness—she died practically over night. No autopsy was done. She’d been asking questions about the death of another resident.”
“Then why aren’t the police investigating?”
“No evidence. When I find evidence, I’ll turn it over to them.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Who is Jennifer Markson? According to you both, she’s responsible for a sorority sister’s death, though that was never proven by the college or the police. She has no criminal record. She was married to Christopher O’Neal—your past and current lover—twenty years ago, divorced after eight years and took him for half his money. I’m looking into Peter Markson to see if he has money.”
“Peter? His parents left him a sizable fortune when they died. He was nineteen, maybe, at the time. He doesn’t live like a rich man, and he doesn’t need to work—but he wants to.”
One thing Max knew about rich people is that the truly wealthy—those with old money—didn’t flaunt it. They lived differently than the middle class, but people like Max’s grandmother believed “showing” your wealth was crass.
And she definitely understood the need to work, to do something. Her mother never worked a day in her life and had been flighty and irresponsible. Maybe that was why Max went the other extreme. When was the last time she did something just for fun? Even the last weekend she spent with Marco she worked all the time they weren’t in bed together.
She asked Kerry, “Do you know Markson?”
“Only through mutual friends. Miami is a small big city. There are so many tourists and attractions here, that when you’re a native, you tend to know everything about the other natives.”
“So Jennifer married him for his money?”
“I heard through the grapevine that the terms of Peter’s trust is that she can’t touch the bulk of his money. She can easily live off his sizable allowance, but I’m sure she wants more. Not just money, but control. The prestige of being rich, living in the right neighborhood, going to the trendy restaurants, vacationing often all over the world. Maybe she didn’t know, or maybe she thought she could convince Peter to spend more. If she has to work, I’m sure she hates every minute of it.”
“She worked after she divorced Dr. O’Neal.” Max glanced at the information Warren had given her. “Suncrest Retirement Center.”
“I didn’t know.”
“It’s on her resume.”
“I used to volunteer there. But long before she would have worked there.” Kerry’s thoughts seemed to be a million miles away.
“And?”
“And I can’t imagine Jennifer working with people who need attention. She was a good nurse on the one hand—put her in an operating room and she shines. But she hates people.” Kerry glanced at Felicia. Was she hiding something? Or thinking of something specific? “Jennifer’s smart. If she’s involved in these deaths at Del Sol … as horrific as it seems … you won’t be able to prove it. She did atrocious things to Christopher, none of which we could prove. But she also hurt him, deeply, on many levels.”
“Emotional?”
“Yet you’re not married.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She took a deep breath. “Jennifer told me if I married Christopher, she would destroy us. She didn’t want me to have him, probably because she knew we were having an affair of the heart. But we’re together now, quietly but not secretly, and I need to protect him—and his career. He’s a brilliant surgeon. When she broke his wrist, he couldn’t perform surgery for six months. I won’t let her hurt him again.”
Max considered her impression of Jennifer yesterday at breakfast. How Peter was friendly and warm, but as soon as Jennifer approached them, he became almost wooden. She’d noticed a shift at the time, but not why.
“Do you think she’s abusing Peter Markson?”
“I’ve been a nurse for more than twenty years. I’ve seen many battered women and children during my time … and a few battered husbands. The one thing I’ve learned about abusers is that almost always—if not always—they don’t stop until someone stops them. And when that happens, it’s usually because one of their victims ends up dead.”
“Do you think Jennifer Markson is capable of killing a half dozen people?”
Kerry glanced at Felicia before answering. “I think Jennifer is capable of doing anything if she has a reason. Meaning, something is in it for her.”
“It’s the why I’m stuck on,” Max said. “I’ve gone through the finances of Del Sol and nothing jumps out yet. I have an accountant working on it in case I missed something. Some people pay less than others, but they bought in a long time ago.”
“Nadine’s working there too, isn’t she?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Two peas in a pod.”
“But why would they kill these people?”
“I have no idea. If there’s nothing in it for her financially—and I don’t see how there can be—then maybe they just made her mad. She doesn’t like anyone questioning her authority, she doesn’t like anyone telling her what to do or how to do it. You’ve seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, right?”
“I read the book.”
“Nurse Ratched had to maintain complete control over her patients. She was sweet and kind when they did what she wanted, but as soon as they disobeyed, she punished them. That’s Jennifer. Not just with patients, but with everyone in her life.”
#
Max called Lois and told her she wouldn’t be back for dinner and not to wait up for her.
The next stop was Suncrest, the retirement home where Jennifer had worked for three of the six years between her divorce from Christopher O’Neal and her marriage to Peter Markson. Suncrest was as different from Del Sol as night and day.
Though Suncrest was clean and well-maintained, it was clearly intended for elderly people who needed substantial daily assistance. As Max walked through the lobby, she saw several people in wheelchairs, a few on walkers, and the day room in the middle of the complex was filled with elderly people who probably couldn’t make it to the end of the block, let alone play a round of golf. But the biggest difference was smell—this place smelled like a hospital, with antiseptic competing with an odd scent Max always associated with the sick.
Max’s visit was for nothing—other than to get a sense of Suncrest. The administration listened to her questions about Jennifer Markson, and declined to comment. They declined politely and calmly, but by the end of the thirty-minute interview, Max was frustrated.
She was able to learn the exact start and end dates of Jennifer’s employment. When she left Suncrest, she headed back to the library and pulled up every article that mentioned Suncrest during those three years. Many were obituaries, and most of the obituaries detailed the lives of very old people who had spent their final years at Suncrest because of the need for twenty-four-hour care.
There was an article in the main newspaper about Suncrest being sued for negligence that led to the death of an unnamed patient during the time Jennifer was there. The article went on to talk about several suspicious deaths, but it was vague and unsubstantiated, and seemed to rely on the tugging of heartstrings about the elderly dying alone and without family. Max was surprised the article was even published. She didn’t know the reporter, but made a note to ask Carlo about her.
Max logged into the Lexis-Nexus legal system to read the court filings, but couldn’t find anything about it. Odd. She wasn’t an expert in searching in this complex database, so sent a note to a friend of hers in New York asking for help.
However, she found one court case that—while not a smoking gun—was certainly suspicious. Jennifer had filed suit against Suncrest for wrongful termination, and a counter-suit against Jennifer by Suncrest. The case was settled out of court, the original filing sealed and a code indicated that there was a non-disclosure agreement signed by both parties. But the filing was dated only one week after the newspaper article.
Very, very interesting.
She continued reading about Suncrest, and made several notes, all of which were worth following up. But it was getting late, and she could do nothing more tonight—except get the advice of another expert. On her way out of the library, she called in a to-go order at Marco’s favorite Cuban restaurant. He’d see her motive a mile away, but with Marco, she usually got what she wanted.
Chapter Eight
“Surprise!” Max said when Marco opened his door. She held a bottle of wine in one hand, and handed him a bag of take-out from his favorite Cuban restaurant. “I need help.”
“Wait,” Marco said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “Can I get that on tape?”
She shot him a narrow glance then brushed past him and headed to the kitchen, where she opened the wine bottle.
“I have something on this Del Sol investigation, but I’ll admit, it’s mostly circumstantial and nothing I can turn over.”
“Try me.”
That’s what she hoped for—Marco was a great sounding board and Devil’s advocate. He always made her think logically, and not rely solely on her gut instincts. Not that she was wrong, only being right meant nothing if you couldn’t prove it.
She smiled and brought him a glass of wine and a kiss. “I will—as long as you keep your promise. No jumping.”
“No jumping. Eating, though, because I’m famished.”
Marco dished up the ropa vieja over rice. “You forgot the empanadas?” he asked, a hitch in his voice.
“They’re in there.”
He opened a container. “Aw, they changed the packaging.”
They sat and ate, and Max shared everything she’d learned over the last four days.
“You’re right,” Marco said. She was done talking and they were both done eating. He topped off their wine glasses and leaned back. “You have nothing.”
“After I talked to Kerry, I went to Suncrest. The administrator was distinctly unhelpful. I spent the rest of the afternoon at the library—learned a few things. There’s an article about several deaths—all during the time Jennifer Markson worked there, all immediately prior to her termination. You would have access to criminal records.” She raised her eyebrow.
“I would.” He didn’t say anything else.
“Jennifer sued for wrongful termination, Suncrest countersued, but the file is redacted and both parties signed an NDA.”
“Even I can’t access sealed court records without a warrant.”
“I need to know what happened. The entire administration is new at Suncrest since Jennifer worked there.”
&nbs
p; “You mean everyone who worked there when she did is gone?”
She was about to say yes, but shook her head. “I don’t know. You’re saying I need to find someone Jennifer worked with at the time. An orderly, support staff, nurse ...”
“You’re the reporter.”
She should have thought of it.
“You’re tired,” Marco said.
“You know me and sleep. We’re not friends.” She’d had insomnia all of her adult life. Some nights it was worse than others. This morning she’d woken up at three in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. Fortunately, she was a productive insomniac.
“You sleep well in my bed.” He took her hand and kissed it.
“That’s because no matter what time I wake up, you’re ready for sex.”
“Let’s go.”
“I can’t stay. I need one more thing.”
He sighed and drained his wine. He spoke rapidly in Spanish. Max had a basic understanding of Spanish, but Marco and his friends and family always spoke too fast for her to pick up more than the rough meaning. This time, it was pretty clear he said something like It’s always one more thing. And something about sex.
She rolled her eyes. “Jennifer is originally from Jacksonville, Florida. Her maiden name is Wesley.” She wrote out the information and her birthday. “Can you see if there’s anything about her or her family? I found nothing online about parents or siblings, and the only reason I know she’s from Jacksonville is from the college archives I found at the library. An article about sororities.”
“And?”
“I want to talk to people who really know her. Family. A best friend from high school.”
“You think she’s guilty. You really think she’s killing these people at Del Sol—even though every death has been listed as natural.”
“Yes. I need to figure out how.”
“Don’t you need to know why? Because right now, I’m not seeing a motive.”
TWO TO DIE FOR Page 19