Roux Morgue
Page 23
Allison’s allergy to shellfish was well known. I can’t imagine that Marilyn didn’t know. They had worked together for years, eaten countless meals together. It had to have come up. At three pills a day, given Allison’s severe allergy, it was only a matter of time before the iodines built up in her system, causing anaphylactic shock. I’d let the jury decide whether it was deliberate or not. The leeching off of the warning label told me it was, but that was my opinion.
I suspected that Benson had told Marilyn to take a hike and the pills probably appeared in Allison’s mail disguised as a promotional gimmick. But with the warning label missing.
I’d like to think that Bob Benson had every intention of marrying Allison. His grief seemed genuine. If they didn’t nail Marilyn on the murder charges, knowing what I knew about the school operating as a front of mob money, it probably wouldn’t take too much digging to discover that she was complicit.
Eventually, the murder charges went nowhere, but email trails between her and Benson, Senior, supplied the feds with more than enough evidence to charge her under the RICO statute. She’s using the same law firm as William Martin.
Bridie stopped me on my way down the front steps. She had her suitcase in one hand, the wedding ring quilt slung over her other arm.
“I finished it yesterday. For you,” she insisted and pushed it into my arms.
I shook my head.
“Friendship can also be characterized as a ring,” she reminded me. “Love comes in many shapes and forms. There’s my taxi. Tea. Three weeks from today at 3:00. Don’t be late.”
She hauled her suitcase down the steps, ignoring the outstretched hand of the taxi driver. “No, young man, I don’t want any help. Open the trunk, if you please. Do not play the radio on the way to the airport or you won’t get a tip.”
The taxi tore away from the curb, the order for radio silence obviously rankling. Something told me that guy wasn’t going to get a tip. Period.
I made it home without being sick on the front seat of my car, more or less passing out on the couch for three hours. When I woke up, the headache lingered, a sign I’d overdone it, but I still had some phone calls to make.
I got the hardest one out of the way first.
I called O’Connor’s cell.
“Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to say that you might want to check out the contents of Allison’s purse. Um, you might want to fingerprint the stuff in there.”
That was met with silence.
“Okay, I need to go now, my head is killing—”
“Moira’s going to have another baby.”
I swallowed.
“That’s great,” I forced myself to say. “You love children.”
“A girl. We had an ultrasound today.”
His voice went all soft and scratchy, like he’d swallowed a bunch of rocks. He had always wanted a girl. Oh, he loved his sons. He was never too tired to throw a ball or read a bedtime story. But he’d look with envy at those with tiny daughters. At precinct picnics, at some point you’d find him in a discreet corner of the picnic grounds, playing Barbie dolls. He’d never leave Moira now. Ever. He already loved that little girl more than he would ever love me. I could hear it in his voice. The joy, the wonder, the goodbye.
I sat there clutching the phone in my hand, unable to say anything, not even my own goodbye, when I heard victory whoops in the background. Exactly like the ones I’d heard in that threatening phone call.
“What’s that noise?” I demanded.
“Oh, the boys’ video game. Every time they kill someone it makes that high-pitched noise.”
We’d both underestimated Moira. Not that I would tell O’Connor, because it didn’t matter anymore. A well-placed threat was entirely in her rights.
“Congratulate Moira for me. Goodbye.” I hung up.
Before I could think too much about this, I called Amos and got his answering machine. I left a rambling message apologizing for being a first-class jerk and inviting him and Thom to dinner on Saturday. I’d give him a more polished apology when I saw them. Once again proving that he was a much better person and begging the question why I deserved such a friend, Amos had sent me a dozen roses while I was in the hospital. I wasn’t sure how much Thom had told him about breaking into the school, so I’d have to play it by ear. I should have gone back to bed, but I needed to do one more thing.
I turned on my computer, logged on, and typed in www.match.com.
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