TWO TO DIE FOR

by Allison Brennan

  “Her mother died last night.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me? She has very specific instructions in the event of her death.”

  “The doctor asked for a full autopsy. He suspects arsenic poisoning.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous! The woman was eighty-two years old. She died of complications from the flu. She’s been sick for weeks. And her file specifically says no autopsy—it’s against her religion.”

  “I didn’t know that. I didn’t know Rachel was even religious.”

  “You’re not her doctor, are you? I need to talk to the hospital immediately.”

  “They’ll still want to come in and test the water, make sure that nothing here is contaminated.”

  “Let them. But my job is to protect our residents’ last wishes, and I’m not going to allow anyone to violate her.”

  “Jennifer—what if someone did it on purpose?”

  Max winced. Peter sounded very stressed.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard, Peter. You’re going senile.”

  “Jennifer, listen to me!”

  He actually yelled. Max leaned forward, ready to jump from the golf cart and help him.

  A slap sounded over the recording and Max flinched.

  “Do not raise your voice to me, Peter Markson.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know what has gotten into you. I’m going to get Mrs. Brock’s file and take it to the hospital. I will not allow them to do an autopsy against her wishes.”

  A door shut.

  “Dammit, she’s going to her office. I didn’t bug her office,” Max said.

  “But she’s taking the file to the hospital, right?”

  Max snapped her fingers. “Brilliant, Beau. Can you drive me to the parking garage? I want to be there when she tries to stop the autopsy.”

  “You’ll tip your hand.”

  “It might be our only chance to nail her. And I’ll make every effort to avoid her.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Max rushed to the hospital and, thanks to Iris, got a quick meet with Rachel Brock’s doctor, Jon Davies. Iris was right, he was hot. And a doctor? Definitely had the brains.

  Davies absorbed everything Max said. “Iris didn’t tell me this was a murder investigation.”

  “It isn’t—yet. We need proof. I suspect Jennifer falsified documents claiming that the family refuses an autopsy on religious grounds. Did they?”

  “No—her daughter didn’t object when I told them I would be requesting a full autopsy.”

  “If the documents are legitimate, then Markson forged them or had Mrs. Brock sign them under duress. Maybe she didn’t even know what she was signing.”

  “I’ll fight for Mrs. Brock, I can assure you.”

  “Thank you.”

  His phone buzzed, and he answered. He listened, told the caller he’d be there in one minute, and hung up.

  “Jennifer Markson is waiting outside my office.”

  “I don’t want her to see me. I’ve been undercover at Del Sol for the last week. I don’t want her to know that I’m onto her scam.”

  “But you’re a reporter, not a cop.”

  “Investigative reporter. I’m here because a resident of Del Sol wanted me to look into a suspicious death. If you can prove that Mrs. Brock was murdered, I may be able to convince the FBI to exhume the bodies of the other suspected victims.”

  Davies didn’t look worried; he looked angry.

  “I’ll talk to her in the hall.”

  Definitely a smart guy. He left Max in his office, but she could hear everything through the door.

  “Dr. Davies, I need a moment.”

  “I’m about to do my rounds.”

  “I’m Jennifer Markson, the registered nurse at Del Sol. I need to talk to you about Rachel Brock, who died in your care last night. She was eighty-two and had the flu for the last several weeks.”

  “She had signs of arsenic poisoning.”

  “Her daughter called and said that you were ordering an autopsy. Here is her medical request form. She specifically asked that no autopsy be performed for religious reasons.”

  “That wasn’t in her medical file.”

  “Her regular doctor is out of the country, but he can confirm that she signed these papers in his presence. We have residents fill out all medical requests as soon as they move in—we’re a retirement community.”

  “I’m familiar with the community, but I’m still ordering the autopsy.”

  “You can’t. She specifically said no. The courts have upheld the deceased’s right not to have their bodies cut open.”

  “Be that as it may, her family has signed off on the autopsy.”

  “Maybe they were unaware of the order. I’ll make sure they know, but right now, you have to obey it.”

  “You may take it to our legal department. They will make the decision.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this!”

  “I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to know why and how she died. I have already requested expanded tests, and by tomorrow I’m certain the county will be out at Del Sol testing the water, the food, the kitchen, and talking to residents. If there is an arsenic problem in the community, they have a right to know. More people could be in jeopardy. I would think that you would want to clean up any problems.”

  Max could practically see Jennifer’s mouth open and close as she thought up an argument. “Of course we want to ensure that there are no chemical problems at Del Sol, but this has nothing to do with that.”

  “I have to do my rounds. Legal is on two. Tell them I sent you there.”

  Max heard Dr. Davies walk off. She waited a minute, then left his office. Jennifer was nowhere.

  #

  Max checked in on Lois and Flo. They were both in high spirits. The hospital had admitted Flo overnight and put her on an IV. After filling them in, Max left. She’d just slid into her car when Beau called.

  “Maxine? The recorder went on again.”

  “Where’s Peter?”

  “I don’t know. He left the house after Jennifer did, but his car is still there.”

  Max was a bit worried about Peter, but she was more concerned about Jennifer’s next moves. “Put your phone next to the computer.”

  A moment later, Maxine heard a door slam. Then it was clear that Jennifer was on the phone. “Peter’s asking questions. ... No, just questions, but someone’s been talking to him. That fucking arrogant doctor thinks he can force an autopsy, and dammit, I can’t have that. Though if they prove arsenic killed her, they can’t prove how. I dumped everything from her refrigerator and there’s no other evidence.” Silence. “Really? Who else? ... What do you know about her? ... Well, shit, Nadine, she’s a reporter? Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t care that you just found out, I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll have security remove her ... I’ll find a reason. ... Fake identity. She took advantage of an old woman, whatever. ... No, I don’t want to cut my losses. I’m not done. I’m not!”

  There was silence for a long minute, then Jennifer said, “Dammit, we invested so much time ...” Again, silence. Nadine must be the level-headed partner in this relationship, Max thought wryly. “Fine. You’re right. If Pomeroy is in on this, it’s getting out of hand. We have enough. This wasn’t how I expected it to end. You’re going to play the love-struck bimbo next time, because I’m tired of being nice.”

  She hung up and there were sounds of packing.

  Beau picked up the phone again. “Is that enough?”

  “I hope so, because I think they’re leaving the country. I have to get Marco to arrest her. I hope she’s using her fake passport, or we’re screwed because Marco can’t use any of these recordings.”

  “I need to find Peter, make sure he’s okay.”

  “Be careful, Beau. She knows you’re involved with my investigation, and I don’t want her to hurt you—or anyone else.”

  #

  Max left the ho
spital and went straight to Marco’s house. She played the recordings for him. She had to give him credit for listening to them all the way through.

  Then he swore in Spanish. Max didn’t even recognize half the words he used.

  “You illegally recorded her,” he finally said. “I can’t get a warrant on this!”

  “I know that, Marco, which is why I’ve been busting my butt to get something solid. But you missed the key point—she’s leaving town. She’s running. You can stop her at the airport.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You have to do better than try, Marco.”

  He paced and spoke rapidly in Spanish under his breath, but Max distinctly heard the words impossible woman. Maybe because he’d said them so many times in the six years she’d known him.

  “She abused her husband.”

  “Not a federal crime—Miami PD will have to take it up.”

  “You can push them.”

  “Is he willing to make a statement?”

  “I’m getting him there,” she said.

  “I need a statement. You damn well know I still can’t get an arrest warrant on that recording or your testimony.”

  “The autopsy will be done tomorrow.”

  “None of the circumstantial evidence points to her as a killer.”

  “I know, dammit!” She ran her hands through her hair. She was usually more composed than this, but Marco was making her crazy. “Are you going to at least stake out the airports?”

  “If she travels on that fake passport, she will be detained at any airport in the country. I flagged it and Nadine Gardner.”

  “What about her own passport? She could travel to Canada and then fly from there—”

  “I flagged her personal passport as well. I know how to do my job, Maxine.”

  He was irritated with her. Why, she didn’t know. As sweetly as possible she said, “Thank you, Marco.”

  “It’ll slow her down, but it won’t stop her.”

  “You believe me, though, don’t you?”

  “I need physical proof. The arsenic poisoning at Del Sol will help me get the warrant, and I’ll talk to Iris, get her documentation about the water at Brock’s house. But none of that proves that Mrs. Markson poisoned her because I can’t use that damn recording, Maxine! Just listening to it puts the case in jeopardy.”

  “Bullshit,” she said. “I have to go. Call me when you find her.”

  Marco strode over to her, put his hands on her shoulders and said, “Be careful. She knows who you are. We don’t know if she’s dangerous.”

  “She kills old people for money. People who can’t fight back. I fight back.”

  “Even you, Superwoman, can’t run from a bullet.”

  She kissed him. Marco was tense under all the attitude. “Call me when you find her.”

  She walked out and slid into the driver’s seat of her rental. She had two missed calls from Beau Pomeroy. As she drove back toward Del Sol, she called him back. “This is Max. Is everything okay?”

  “I showed Peter the documents you photographed, and he knows how Jennifer has been embezzling the money. Meet us at Lois’s place.”

  #

  Peter was drinking tea at Lois’s kitchen table, looking a bit shaky, when Max walked back in. Beau and Lois were both there.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Beau said, “After I got off the phone with you, I found Peter in the kitchen. He had the staff secure every bottle of enhanced water. Then we went to the real estate office. He has a key. Someone shredded all the files.”

  “Nadine,” Max said. “How did they steal the money?”

  Peter said, “Those eight-number codes are parcel numbers for the community. At first, I didn’t know what each column meant, but we compared the columns to Lois’s documents and Flo Riley’s documents. This column,” he pointed to the second to last column of numbers, “doesn’t match any headings in Flo’s documents, but the code matches one in Lois’s called ‘insurance surcharge.’ Every resident in the last four years has an insurance surcharge that I didn’t know about, but it’s small enough that it didn’t generate any red flags. The charge was twenty-five hundred dollars at signing, and then fifty dollars a month. The money was going into an account labeled in the system as discretionary medical, but the bank account was in her name. I already called Rich Warren. He’s having his accountant audit every account.”

  Max sat down. Why was Jennifer targeting the long-time residents? That had been the red flag for Max, yet there didn’t seem to be a reason.

  “She didn’t need to kill anyone,” Beau said sadly. “She would be getting plenty of income just from attrition. I didn’t notice anything odd in my charges, but honestly, I didn’t pay close attention to the line items, just focused on the bottom line.”

  “She hated it here,” Peter said. “It’s my fault.”

  “No,” Max said, her voice harsher than she intended. “This is on Jennifer, and only Jennifer. Maybe she wasn’t pulling in enough money at fifty dollars a resident.”

  “It’s my fault because she hated me, she hated living here, she hated her job. I knew it—I just thought it would get better. And ... and I was scared of her.” His voice cracked. “I think she started killing people to speed up her embezzlement when I told her I’d decided to stay at Del Sol.”

  “I don’t understand,” Max said.

  “When we started working here, I knew she didn’t want to stay, but I thought she’d learn to love it like I did. I told her give it two years, then we could talk about doing something different. She wanted to travel, see the world. I—I didn’t. But at two years, we went to Europe for three weeks. It was nice—but not my style. She was so extravagantwith her spending. I tried to ignore it, but when we got back to Florida, I was relieved, felt like I was truly home, and signed a five-year contract with Premiere. She was displeased.”

  “And she began to hurt you.”

  He looked down at his hands and nodded.

  Lois took Peter’s hand and squeezed. “The woman is going to jail. Maxine will make sure of it, won’t you?”

  Max prayed Marco got them at the airport.

  “So she wanted to get more money so she could leave and not be dependent on your trust,” Max said.

  “That’s all I can think about as to why.”

  Jennifer was killing these people for peanuts. $2,500 surcharge on every new resident?

  “It was her idea to put in the duplexes so we could bring in more people. She had a huge presentation for Premiere because the Warrens weren’t sold on it, but it made sense because our homes are in high demand. She’s already been embezzling from the project—I think that’s what this block of numbers are.” He pointed to a section of the spreadsheet. “But this time, it’s from the contractors.”

  “If they’re paying her, it’s likely bribes—maybe to get the job, paid their fees, charge Premiere more.”

  “I’m not responsible for any of the construction details, but Nadine worked closely on the project. It’s all about money. She killed for money!”

  Peter didn’t understand, but he would. Max, however, knew people like Jennifer Markson. They didn’t even need to justify murder because the end result was that they got what they wanted and everyone else could go to Hell.

  “Peter, if you’ll agree to press charges for spousal abuse, my FBI friend can get a warrant and arrest her. Right now.”

  “I will. I’ll press charges.”

  For the first time, his voice sounded strong. He was resolved, and Max immediately called Marco.

  “Peter is going to press charges for spousal abuse. Premiere is auditing their books because Peter figured out how Jennifer was embezzling from the company, and why she was killing off residents to do it. You have to find her and stop her.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  #

  Peter was distraught, and Max and Beau walked him back to his house late Sunday evening. “I can’t believe she killed all
those people,” he said, not for the first time.

  “She’s a sociopath,” Max said. “She killed them because it was the easiest way for her to bring in more residents. The long-time residents paid less because they were here for more than ten years—but they were also older, so their deaths would be less suspicious. She was counting on that. We might not be able to prove it, but she did it. Like Capone, if we can get her in prison for another crime, we’ll have to call it justice.”

  It burned Max, but there was nothing she could do about it. There was no physical proof that Jennifer had poisoned Rachel Brock, Dotty, and the others. None. Law enforcement might be able to exhume their bodies and prove they died of arsenic poisoning, but they wouldn’t be able to prove that Jennifer was the one who poisoned them.

  Jennifer spending the next ten to twenty years in prison for embezzlement would have to satisfy her.

  Neither Max nor Beau wanted to leave Peter on his own, not when he was so distraught. Max prepared a plate of cheese and crackers and they waited together for word from Marco.

  While Max often had patience when she was working—either staking out some place, or researching at the library, or even writing an article—she hated waiting for someone else to get her answers. She had nothing to do.

  When her phone finally rang over an hour later and she saw Marco’s number, she jumped on it.

  “You have them,” she said, a statement, not a question.

  “We have Nadine Delacruz in custody. We arrested her for using a fake passport. I personally questioned her about Jennifer. She didn’t take long to crack—I don’t think she’s the mastermind behind this scam. She claims Jennifer was supposed to meet her at the airport. Either she spotted us or she’s flying out of a different airport.”

  “Dammit. Is Nadine saying anything else?”

  “She lawyered up pretty fast, but she was definitely surprised to see us. She couldn’t fake that. I asked some pointed questions, and she’s done talking for now. But she’s sweating. I can get her to flip on Jennifer.”

  “Don’t be certain. They go way back.”

  “I can tell when someone really, really doesn’t want to go to prison.”