“I don’t think we’ve gotten to the badgering stage yet, Ms. Rivera.”
Madeleine spread her hands, and added, “I also fail to see the merit to this line of questioning.”
“If you’ll give me a few more minutes, Your Honor, I think the importance of these questions will become clear.”
Judge Atwood nodded. I suspected she was already catching a glimmer of the bigger picture. “You may continue.”
There was a murmur from somewhere at the back of the room.
“Let’s return to the kitchen,” I said, handing the witness a photograph that had already been admitted into evidence. I pointed to a collection of baking supplies on the counter. “Can you tell me what you see there?”
“Flour, sugar, some spoons, a cutting board.” Sheila’s shoulders were hunched, her voice stiff. “An empty egg carton and a box of oatmeal.”
“What about the brown plastic container next to the oatmeal.”
Sheila chewed on her bottom lip. “It looks like chocolate syrup.”
“Do you suppose your sister was using the chocolate syrup in her baking?”
A fractional shrug. “Adrianna likes chocolate.”
“In oatmeal cookies?” I managed a tone of incredulity and didn’t wait for an answer. “Does Adrianna like to eat chocolate syrup by the spoonful?”
A curt nod. “Yes.”
Before I asked the next question, I sent a silent prayer to the heavens. “Is that how she takes medicine?”
There was a small change in Sheila’s expression. “What do you mean?”
I could feel the tension in my temples. “Kids sometimes wash down bad-tasting medicine with chocolate syrup. Does Adrianna do that?”
Sheila’s expression was pinched. “She might.”
“She might?” My voice swelled. “Didn’t Adrianna live with you for much of her life? I should think you would know how she took her medicine.”
“Sometimes she takes it with syrup,” Sheila said, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. “It depends on the medicine.”
I breathed deeply. It was the answer I’d hoped for. “It depends on whether the medicine is flavored, you mean?”
“That’s a consideration.”
I took a step back. “Your sister had a prescription for Restoril— a sleeping pill that comes as a gel capsule. Do you happen to know whether the powder inside the capsule is flavorful?”
“Objection.” Madeleine was on her feet again, her arms flying in the air. “The witness isn’t a drug expert. This whole line of questioning is preposterous.”
“I was asking about Ms. Barlow’s personal knowledge only.”
Madeleine snorted. “What does the witness’s personal knowledge about the flavor of any medicine have to do with the question before this court? Your Honor, I—”
“Never mind,” I said turning to Judge Atwood. “I’ll withdraw the question.”
I walked back to the defense table and made a pretense of checking something in my file. In truth, I was gathering my courage. My pulse beat so rapidly I could hear it pounding in my ears.
The courtroom was quiet with expectation. Grady sat stock still, his eyes facing forward. He didn’t look at me, only at Sheila Barlow.
I looked up from the page, took a breath, and addressed the witness. “Miss Barlow, would you be surprised to learn that your fingerprints were found on that bottle of chocolate syrup?”
“My . . .” She opened her mouth and shut it again, obviously caught off guard. Yet she made a quick recovery. “Not at all. Only the day before, I’d been at the house and made Adrianna a glass of chocolate milk using that same bottle of syrup.”
“So it doesn’t surprise you?”
Madeleine huffed in exasperation. “Asked and answered.”
I nodded and called the court’s attention to section IV(a) of the lab report concerning fingerprints found at the scene.
“Actually, Miss Barlow, your initial reaction was on target,” I said. “There were no fingerprints at all found on the bottle of syrup. The rest of the kitchen was rife with prints—baking is a sticky business. But the bottle of chocolate syrup had been wiped clean.”
Sheila’s face was flushed. She gave me a venomous look, then shrugged elaborately. “Deirdre must have cleaned it up. As you said, things get sticky.”
I glanced at Grady. He was now watching me intently.
Abruptly, I swiveled to face the witness. “Isn’t it true, Ms. Barlow, that you were at your sister’s the night she was killed?”
Sheila recoiled as though she’d been slapped. “No.”
“Isn’t it true that Adrianna’s ‘dream’ about the chocolate syrup wasn’t a dream at all? You gave her the syrup with the powder from one, or more, of your sister’s sleeping pills because you didn’t want her to wake up and find her mother’s body.”
“No, that’s not true.” Sheila’s voice had a thin, scratchy quality it hadn’t before.
“Isn’t it true that you were outside on the deck on a winter’s night because you wanted to smoke and Deirdre wouldn’t let you do so in the house?” That would explain Xavier’s red-eyed evil force.
She shook her head.
“Isn’t it true,” I said, picking up the beat, “that you killed your sister by pushing her over the railing, then turned off the oven out of concern for Adrianna’s safety?”
Sheila was shaking her head vehemently. So vehemently that her whole body trembled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I softened my tone. “You and Deirdre were once in love with the same man, weren’t you? The man who became Adrianna’s father.”
Sheila didn’t answer. She rocked silently in the witness stand.
I was playing a hunch. I remembered the photo of the three of them, taken the day Sheila had introduced Frank and Deirdre. I remembered Nina’s comment about Sheila’s failed romance and I thought about the glow of reverence that colored Sheila’s expression whenever she mentioned Frank’s name. Looking at her face now, I knew I was right.
“You were both in love with him,” I said, “and he chose your sister over you, didn’t he?”
Sheila jerked forward, grabbing the edge of the witness stand tightly with her hands. “No, we were not both in love with him.” Her voice spiraled. “I was in love with him; Deirdre stole him from me by getting pregnant. All she wanted was someone to support her. She never cared about him the way I did. Never.”
The courtroom was silent. No shuffling of feet, no muted whispers. The full attention of everyone present was riveted on the witness.
“Frank was one of the most generous human beings I’ve ever known,” Sheila said softly. “Deirdre milked him for every cent she could get her hands on, forcing him to spend more than he could afford. She drove him into debt.”
“And ultimately,” I added, “to suicide.”
“She was responsible for his death. As much to blame as if she’d pulled the trigger herself.” Sheila spat out the words in contempt.
“Is that why you killed her? To even the score?”
For a moment Sheila said nothing. Then she slumped forward, covering her face with her hands. “I didn’t mean to,” she wailed. “I was angry. I didn’t mean to kill her.”
There was a collective gasp from the courtroom, followed by a wave of murmurs.
Sheila rocked forward. “I didn’t even realize what I’d done until I heard that awful thump of her body hitting the ground. I was angry. I wanted to hurt her, that’s all. Like she’d hurt me.”
“Hurt you how?” I asked.
She ignored the question. “I went to the house to see if I couldn’t talk some sense into her. That’s all I wanted to do, talk. But Deirdre wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t think of anyone but herself. She never did.”
“Talk to her about what?”
Sheila glared at me, her expression filled with loathing. “This is your fault. You don’t know what it’s like to love a child. You’ve never experienced the k
ind of hold that has on you.”
“You’re referring to Adrianna?”
“Adrianna is Frank’s child. She’s all I have left of him. And she’s the most important thing on earth to me.”
I shook my head in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow. You killed your sister because of Adrianna?”
Sheila looked up at the judge and emitted a soundless cry. “Deirdre was going to move away. She was going to take Adrianna with her. All the way to Florida. She took Frank, and now she wanted to take Adrianna, too. It was like I had no rights. No rights at all.”
Chapter 48
Nina held the huge bouquet of yellow roses to her nose and inhaled their sweet aroma with obvious delight. She leaned closer to Grady, sitting on the bed beside her. “They’re absolutely beautiful,” she said. “But having you home again is all that really counts.”
She was still reeling from the euphoria of seeing Grady walk unexpectedly through the doorway of their bedroom. She kept touching him to make sure he was real.
Grady kissed her forehead. “I love you, Nina. I’ve put you through hell, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. I promise.”
Briefly, Nina turned in my direction. “How did you know it was Sheila?”
We’d covered the main points of the morning’s court session in bare-bones form already, and now that she was sure Grady was home to stay, she wanted the details.
“I didn’t,” I told her. “It was only a hunch. But it was also our only hope of dismissal.”
“I’d all but given up hope,” Grady said.
“So had I.” My shoulders still ached with the tension of the last few days. “I saw a long shot and took it. But it might not have worked.”
Grady draped an arm around Nina’s shoulders. “There must have been something that alerted you to the possibility it was Sheila.”
I nodded. “Emily told me that she ate chocolate syrup by the spoonful to cover the taste of medicine. When I heard Adrianna say she’d dreamed that Sheila have given her chocolate syrup, Emily’s comment flashed in my mind. There was chocolate syrup on the kitchen counter, yet the cookies Deirdre was baking were oatmeal.”
Nina laughed. “This is the first I’ve heard that you know anything about baking, Kali.”
“Well, I didn’t know for sure. There was a chance that chocolate-oatmeal was all the latest rage. The real trigger, though, was the oven. The killer had to have been someone who cared enough to turn off the oven before leaving.”
“Still, Deirdre was her own sister . . .” Grady shook his head in disbelief.
“I don’t think it was something she planned. But when Deirdre told her she was moving to Florida and taking Adrianna with her, Sheila lost control.”
“She’s so devoted to Adrianna,” Nina said. “It must have been difficult for her to leave Adrianna alone for the night.”
“I’m sure it was, but she couldn’t very well take the child home with her without raising suspicion. That’s why she woke Adrianna briefly to give her the sleeping powder, to ensure that she’d sleep through the night. Sheila intended to get back to the house the next morning before Adrianna woke up.”
Grady rubbed his cheek. “So that’s why you asked her what time she’d gotten up Sunday morning.”
“It struck me as curious that she got to the house so soon after Adrianna’s call. And she never checked to see if Deirdre might be alive or if there was anyone else in the house.”
“She was lucky Adrianna thought the whole episode was only a dream,” Nina said.
“I suspect she may have planted that idea herself.”
“Sheila must have been ecstatic when she found out Adrianna had seen a silver convertible in front of the house,” Grady added.
“Doubly so when the police locked on to you as their chief suspect.”
“But why make up the story about the answering machine tape, then?” Nina looked to Grady. “She did make it up, didn’t she?”
Grady nodded. “I’m not proud of the things I’ve done lately. But I never threatened Deirdre. Or even considered it.”
“She wanted to avoid going to trial,” I said. “For Adrianna’s sake as well as her own. Now, tell me about Marc.”
Nina had told me soon after we arrived that she’d talked to him, but she hadn’t been willing to say more until she’d heard the full story of Grady’s release.
“Marc’s in the hospital,” she said slowly.
Foreboding shot through me. “Which one? Is he okay?”
“He’s not hurt, if that’s what you mean.”
“Where is he, Summit?”
She shook her head. “In southern California. It’s a special hospital.”
“Special?”
She hesitated. “Drug rehabilitation.”
The words hit me broadside. I felt as if I were suffocating. Anger and grief welled up inside me, pressing against my lungs.
Grady leaned forward. “What? Marc’s a drug addict? Impossible.”
“It’s true,” Nina said. “I spoke with him myself. He had me fooled, too.”
“Jesus, what was he on?”
“Cocaine mostly. Probably some other stuff. We didn’t get into the particulars.”
Why hadn’t I suspected? The signs were all there—if only I’d been willing to look. The lingering cough and sniffles, the erratic behavior and odd hours, the abrupt mood shifts.
But denial is like a pervasive heavy fog: it changes the landscape and makes it impossible to see anything but the single tree in front of your nose.
“So that was his connection with Tony Rodale,” I observed, thinking aloud.
Hal had been right when he said he’d seen the two of them together. And Rodale was undoubtedly the link between Marc and Deirdre. No wonder Marc had left the ComTec party in a hurry once he’d noticed Deirdre was there. She was part of his other life, not his work life.
“When he found out the police were zeroing in on Rodale,” Nina said, “he panicked. Instead of going to his regular sources, he went looking for drugs on the street.”
“That’s why he was beaten the other night?”
She nodded. “There never was any phone call from a guy with information about the case. That was just an excuse to cover up the reason he was out in that part of town.”
“He was walking the streets, looking for a fix? How could he be so stupid?”
“He’s an addict, Kali. One who hid it well, I grant you that. But poor judgment sort of goes with the territory, don’t you think?”
Poor judgment wasn’t the half of it. “How did he sound when you talked with him?” I asked.
“Sick, scared, filled with guilt. He realized after he was beaten how much his life had spun out of control.”
My own life felt as though it were still teetering. “He could have left word that he was okay,” I snipped, feeling that I’d somehow had the wind knocked out of my sails. Against my better judgment I’d let myself begin to care about him. When he was hurt, I’d gone to help him—no questions asked. And yet it hadn’t apparently crossed his mind that I’d be worried.
“He was ashamed,” Nina said. “He was embarrassed to call you.”
“He’d rather leave me wondering if he was hurt?”
Nina shrugged. “Don’t judge other people too harshly, Kali.”
There was the clatter of feet on the stairway, and then Emily burst into the room.
“Daddy.” She flung herself at Grady and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Hello, sweetheart. I missed you so much.”
“We’re so glad you’re home.” She looked at Nina. “Aren’t we, Mommy?”
“Absolutely.”
A few minutes later Grady and Emily went downstairs for hot chocolate. Nina leaned back against the pillows and exhaled loudly. “Whew. What a day.”
“You’re telling me? My stomach was so twisted in knots this morning, I don’t think it will ever get back to normal.”
Her eyes met mine. “Thank you, Kali. For what you did for Grady. For being my friend through all this.”
“I only wish I could make . . . the rest of it better.”
“Cancer. You can say the word in my presence.” She closed her eyes a moment, her expression a mix of resignation and repose. When she opened them again, it was with a smile. “I’ve come to appreciate what’s good and not dwell on the rest. Or at least I’m trying to.”
“That strikes me as a remarkably healthy attitude.”
“Along those same lines ...” She smoothed the comforter with her open hand. “I know that you know more than you’re saying, and that it bothers you. I think it’s likely that Grady was sleeping with Deirdre. But I don’t know for sure.” She paused to look at me. “And I don’t want to know for sure. There’s a lot of good in Grady, and that’s what I want to focus on.”
I nodded, and hoped for Nina’s sake—for the sake of all three Barretts—that Grady meant what he’d said about making up for past wrongs.
<><><>
The sky was turning dark by the time I reached home. I felt relief knowing that the charges had been dropped and Grady was free. Beyond that, though, there was little to celebrate.
I put my key in the lock and let myself in. The house was empty. I flipped on the light in the kitchen and found a note from Bea and Dotty saying they were having dinner with a friend.
Pouring myself a glass of wine, I went to sit by the living room window and watch the lights come on around the bay. When the phone rang, I decided to let the machine pick it up. I was in no mood to talk with anyone.
After the seventh ring, it became clear that the machine wasn’t turned on. Finally, I reached for the receiver.
“Kali?”
I took a breath. “Hello, Marc.”
He hesitated. “Have you spoken with Nina today?” His voice was thin, his tone tentative.
“She told me about your drug problem, if that’s what you’re asking.”
A pause. “Just like before. I screwed up again, didn’t I?”
“You have so much going for you, Marc. How could you risk losing it all?” Sadness pulled me in its wake like the receding tide.
Motion to Dismiss (A Kali O'Brien Legal Mystery) Page 31