To the Last Drop

by Sandra Balzo

  ‘We loved each other,’ Lynne said. ‘He chose me over her.’

  ‘And you chose him over Clay.’

  ‘And everybody lived happily ever after.’ Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘Or not. Guess it explains why Doctor Nookie started fishing for young married women. He didn’t want to repeat past mistakes.’

  The past mistake in the room started to protest but I held up a hand. ‘Let’s get back to Bethany. What did she tell you?’

  ‘That she,’ Lynne used finger quotes, ‘“fell in love” and would have done anything for him.’

  ‘What about her husband?’ I asked.

  ‘Apparently I wasn’t William’s only “mistake.”’ A nod toward Sarah. ‘Bethany’s husband had recently died, though apparently she hadn’t shared that newsflash with William. Once he realized he told her the relationship was just a flirtation on his part. As he thought it was on hers.’

  Guess that explained William’s comment that flirting wasn’t harmless. Though his definition of flirtation was a little different to mine.

  And apparently Sarah’s. She put her already empty plate on the coffee table. ‘So wait. Were they still sexting or had they gotten down to playing hide the sausage?’

  Leave it to my partner to stab right to the heart of the matter.

  ‘The,’ Lynne hesitated as Frank padded into the room, ‘sausage.’

  The sheepdog cocked his head at the word and sniffed the air. Then probably deciding the woman was nothing more than a tease, he wedged himself back into the floor space between my chair and the coffee table.

  I set my plate down and gave him a scratch. ‘What did William say when you confronted him?’

  ‘I didn’t tell William.’

  I looked at Sarah and she said what we both were thinking. ‘Why the hell not?’

  ‘Because I needed to think. To plan.’

  This time I tried not to meet Sarah’s eyes. Might Lynne Swope have calmly set out to kill her husband? Maybe William wasn’t the only one who was a good actor.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Lynne said, proving she did. ‘I didn’t kill William. I left the book club and drove by the office but I didn’t see any lights. When he wasn’t home I tried his cell, the office and eventually you.’

  So she’d said, but was it all for show, including tonight’s dinner interruptus?

  ‘Besides,’ Lynne continued, ‘would I have filed for divorce if I intended to kill him?’

  ‘Good point.’ Unless she was some sort of evil genius. And I was not one to taunt an evil genius. ‘The jilted lover, then? Clay Tartare?’

  ‘But how many years has it been?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Twelve?’ Lynne supplied, her expression blank. ‘And Clay obviously got over me fast or he wouldn’t have stayed in the practice.’

  ‘Maybe the guy needed a job more than he needed you or his self-respect.’

  Lynne shrugged but I was wondering if perhaps Tartare had stayed on in the practice to be close to his lost love. Maybe he hadn’t given up in twelve long years.

  A romantic notion. Right up to the murder part. ‘But what about Bethany? If we’re looking for a jilted lover, shouldn’t we start there?’

  ‘Do we know where she is?’ Sarah asked. ‘Maybe Bethany and this Rita person are one and the same.’

  ‘You saw her. Rita Pahlke is maybe in her forties with dark hair. And Bethany is young and blonde, Lynne?’

  The financial planner frowned. ‘Perky little blonde with Reese Witherspoon bangs.’

  ‘So? You’ve never heard of makeup and hair dye?’ Sarah asked. ‘The woman’s in disguise.’

  ‘I’ve never seen Pahlke close up,’ Lynne said, ‘but I’m certain she’s not Bethany.’

  Sarah just hated to be shot down. ‘Why’s that?’ she demanded.

  ‘Because Bethany’s dead.’

  FIFTEEN

  Oh.

  Instinctively I tried to scoot my chair back to distance myself from Lynne but only succeeded in digging my toe into Frank’s side.

  He jumped up with a grunt and eyed me accusatorily.

  ‘Sorry. Foot slipped.’

  Sarah, for her part, seemed energized by the turn of events. ‘How exactly did Bethany die?’

  ‘She drowned,’ Lynne said. ‘William didn’t say how or where.’

  And his wife didn’t ask. There seemed to be a lot of things Lynne preferred not to know. ‘But weren’t you curious?’

  ‘Of course. And I did Google her name but there was just the obituary.’

  ‘When did she die?’ I asked.

  Lynne scrunched her nose, thinking. ‘It was before we moved, I know.’

  ‘And after she came to see you, obviously,’ Sarah said. ‘Just to help narrow the time frame.’

  Lynne colored up at the ‘duh’ in Sarah’s tone. ‘Maybe early April?’

  ‘How old was she?’ I asked.

  ‘Early twenties?’ Lynne picked up her glass. ‘Like I said, William liked them young.’

  William’s preferences aside, it seemed awfully young to die. And to be a widow. ‘Did Bethany seem depressed when she came to see you?’

  Lynne thought about that. ‘More angry, I’d have said.’

  ‘But if Bethany … I’m sorry, what was her last name?’

  Lynne took a sip and set the glass down. ‘Wheeler.’

  ‘So if Bethany Wheeler expected you to confront William, she was probably disappointed when the blow-up didn’t happen.’

  ‘I see where you’re going, Maggy,’ Sarah said. ‘Suicide is like the leading cause of death in that age group.’

  I looked at her. ‘Again with the statistics.’

  ‘No need to lose hope, Miss Marple.’ Sarah picked up her own wine. ‘Homicide is second.’

  I opened my mouth and then closed it. Sarah would tell me in her own good time. Or not.

  ‘… Now that I think about it,’ Lynne was saying, ‘I believe you may be right.’

  ‘Right about what?’ Pick a theory, any theory.

  ‘Bethany perhaps committing suicide. As I told you, she was a young widow. That alone must have been such a burden. And then being let go—’

  ‘Let go, as in fired?’ I asked. ‘How did William get away with that?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Sarah used her tongue to recapture a rivulet that had escaped down the side of the glass when she poured. ‘Employer humped employee. He’s the one who should have been out of a job.’

  ‘From what I understand, somebody caught Bethany helping herself to the nitrous oxide,’ Lynne said.

  ‘Nitrous oxide?’ Sarah was wearing her best confused face.

  ‘That’s the chemical name for laughing gas,’ Lynne explained. ‘It’s administered before a dental procedure to relax the patient.’

  My partner nodded but I was thinking furiously. Nitrous oxide was combined with oxygen when it was administered. Oxygen in a green tank like I’d seen by the bushes near William’s body.

  ‘It provides a short-term high,’ Lynne was saying. ‘Since it’s readily available in a dental office and not nearly as tightly regulated as painkillers, it’s tempting for the staff.’

  ‘Cool,’ Sarah said. ‘What do they do? Kick back after hours and talk like ducks?’

  Now it was Lynne who looked bewildered. ‘You must be thinking of helium, which is used in balloons?’

  Sarah was nodding. ‘Like the Hindenburg. Gotcha.’

  I glared at my partner.

  But Lynne didn’t know Sarah as well as I did. ‘I think that was hydrogen. Though you’re right that the Zeppelin was originally outfitted for—’

  Somebody please kill me. ‘No matter,’ I cut in. ‘We know the Hindenburg didn’t use nitrous oxide.’

  ‘Too bad.’ Sarah cocked her head. ‘At least they would have died lau—’

  ‘Don’t you dare say it,’ I warned. ‘Shame on you, Sarah Kingston.’

  My partner, when thwarted, or bored, or tipsy – honestly, pretty much anytime – loved shoc
king people.

  Having succeeded, Sarah grinned. ‘So abuse of nitrous oxide would be grounds to fire Bethany?’

  Lynne lobbed her own curveball. ‘Or William’s excuse.’

  ‘Either way, why would Bethany have gone quietly?’ I asked.

  Lynne shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know. Maybe my husband had more on her than she did on him.’

  ‘And now they’re both dead,’ Sarah said. ‘What do you think, Maggy? Murder-suicide?’

  I sat back in the chair. ‘You mean William killed Bethany and then himself? But you said Bethany drowned in April, right?’

  Lynne took a forkful of cold Mongolian beef out of the carton. ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Seven months is a pretty long delay between the murder and the suicide,’ I said. ‘Besides, what reason would William have for killing Bethany anyway? She’d already done her worst by squealing to you.’

  ‘But William didn’t know that,’ Lynne reminded me.

  ‘True.’ Sarah picked up the wine bottle and, seeing it was empty, set it back down again.

  ‘With all your suspicions,’ I asked Lynne, ‘you never said anything to William – not even that you were divorcing him?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sarah said. ‘What were you going to do after he was served on Friday night? Go home and share a bed like nothing had happened?’

  ‘No, of course not. I had a reservation at the Morrison for last night. Though Ginny’s visit put the whole thing on hold. Or at least so I thought. Damn!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I forgot to cancel the reservation. I’m sure they’ve charged it to my card.’

  This woman was not much of a linear storyteller. But at least now I understood why Lynne had looked less than thrilled yesterday about Ginny’s surprise visit.

  Sarah was regarding our uninvited dinner guest with a frown. ‘But here’s the good news: you won’t have to divorce your husband because he apparently did himself in. Problem solved and you’ll have plenty of money to pay your hotel bill.’

  ‘I know it looks convenient,’ Lynne said. ‘Which is exactly what I’m afraid the police investigators will think. Especially that unpleasant homicide detective.’

  ‘The spouse is always suspect number one,’ Sarah said. ‘Don’t you always say that, Maggy?’

  ‘But I was divorcing him,’ Lynne protested. ‘Again, why would I kill him?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘Cheaper?’

  ‘True.’ Swope thought about it. ‘Nobody comes out ahead in a divorce, though at least Wisconsin is a community property state, so marital property is split fifty-fifty, but not necessarily what you have going into the marriage.’

  I was regretting sharing our Mongolian beef. ‘So why are you here again?’

  ‘I told you. To find out – or ask you to find out – if the divorce papers were found in the office. According to the process server, he gave them to William outside the front entrance between seven and seven-thirty that evening and William took them into the building with him. I’d assume to his office but the police haven’t said anything.’

  ‘And you’re wondering how to play it?’ I guessed.

  Lynne hesitated and then said, ‘I know it sounds awful but I don’t know if they found the papers and are waiting for me to say something or—’

  ‘Or William disposed of them on the way up to the office and you don’t have to say anything at all,’ I finished for her.

  ‘Well, yes. I mean, why raise the subject if he ripped up the envelope and tossed it in the lobby wastebasket?’

  ‘But if William was served, that means the papers were already filed with the court. Done deal.’ I knew this from experience. ‘The copy served on William was just his notice of that.’

  ‘Meaning Pavlik and his troops will find out anyway.’ Sarah was taking the serving spoons out of the containers and laying them across Lynne’s cast-off plate. Either my partner was tired of the conversation or trying to signal to our visitor that the evening was over. Or both.

  ‘Assuming the investigators know to look.’ I stacked my plate and Sarah’s under Lynne’s.

  Our guest didn’t lend a hand. ‘But that’s just it. The detectives don’t need to know. Nobody ever needs to know.’

  ‘Even Ginny?’ I asked.

  ‘Especially Ginny. Why would I tell her now?’

  ‘Maybe to give her a reason her father jumped out the window?’ Sarah suggested. ‘Beyond her own bad grades, I mean. Isn’t that what you were worried about supposedly?’

  ‘Regardless of what you decide to say to Ginny,’ I said when Lynne didn’t answer, ‘you need to tell the detectives the divorce notice was served. They’re going to find out anyway.’

  ‘But won’t they ask why I didn’t say anything earlier?’

  Frank stirred at my feet. ‘Tell them that Ginny was in the room when you were talking to the detectives and you didn’t want her to know.’

  ‘That’s genius, Maggy,’ Lynne said. ‘And also the truth.’

  Though not the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

  The financial planner was going through her purse for the cards again. ‘Would you mind if I called from here? I know it’s after business hours, but—’

  The front door burst open.

  ‘Mom!’ Eric yelled as his sheepdog danced delightedly around his feet. ‘You have to come quick. Ginny’s been arrested!’

  SIXTEEN

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ Lynne Swope said from the back seat of the Escape. ‘Why in the world would they arrest Ginny?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Having left both Lynne’s Toyota and Sarah parked at my house, we were stopped at the light at the corner of Brookhill and Poplar Creek Road. Eric was driving, given the wine Lynne and I had consumed. ‘Are you sure they didn’t just bring her in for questioning, Eric?’

  My son seemed to think that was a distinction without a difference. ‘Got me. They didn’t read her rights if that’s what you mean. Or handcuff her. They just rang the Swopes’ doorbell and when Ginny answered they asked her to get her coat and come with them. Just like on TV.’

  ‘Can she be questioned without my being there?’ Lynne asked.

  ‘Is she eighteen?’ I asked.

  ‘Just this past July.’

  I didn’t need to turn to know she was close to tears. ‘Who was it who came to the door, Eric?’

  ‘Both detectives,’ Eric said. ‘That Taylor and Hallonquist.’

  ‘But not Pavlik.’ I’d tried the sheriff’s cell before we’d left but been bounced to voicemail. I’d left a message asking him to call as soon as possible but not giving any details.

  Eric shook his head as the light turned green. The car behind us beeped.

  ‘One vehicle on Brookhill Road and it has to be behind us,’ I said as my cell phone rang. ‘Let’s hope this is the sheriff.’

  It was. ‘Maggy?’

  Eric pulled the Escape over to the shoulder to let the impatient driver pass. And listen in on the conversation with the sheriff, no doubt.

  I put it on speaker. ‘Thanks for calling back. Eric says that Taylor and Hallonquist have picked up Ginny.’

  ‘Yes?’ Pavlik said, managing to neither confirm nor deny.

  Acutely aware of the two sets of eyes watching expectantly, I pursued it. ‘Do you know why?’

  Pavlik didn’t answer that either. ‘Is Lynne Swope with you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I glanced sideways at Lynne, who was signaling she wanted the phone. ‘I think she’d like to talk to you.’

  Not bothering to wait for another noncommittal answer, I handed the phone to Lynne in the back seat. In the transfer, one of us must have accidentally turned off the speaker because Eric and I had to make do with hearing only the Lynne half of the conversation.

  ‘Discrepancy?’ Lynne said. ‘What kind of—’ She listened. ‘But, I don’t have a lawyer here. I mean that kind—’ She looked at me. ‘Yes, I can ask Maggy. Where—’ She listened again before handing me back the phone.


  ‘Hello, Pavlik?’ I said into it.

  ‘I just told Mrs Swope you could help her find a lawyer for her daughter. Start with Bernie Egan. He’s corporate but he should be able to refer her to somebody.’

  ‘You’re talking about a criminal defense attorney?’ I tried not to look at Lynne. ‘Why—’

  Pavlik interrupted. ‘No arrest warrant has been issued but the girl wants a lawyer present before any further questioning.’

  Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe I did need a scorecard for both Lynne and her daughter.

  ‘… In interrogation, for now,’ Pavlik was saying. ‘Have Mrs Swope and her attorney go there.’

  I nodded, even if he couldn’t see me. ‘And where are you?’

  A hesitation, and I could almost see the heavenward glance that accompanied it. ‘In my office. And would it do any good to ask you not to come up?’

  ‘No, but I’ll call Bernie and we’ll drop Lynne off downstairs first. Deal?’

  A weary, ‘Deal.’

  ‘Ginny’s not been arrested,’ I said for Eric’s benefit as I clicked off, since I assumed Pavlik would already have told Lynne that. I turned back to her. ‘The sheriff suggested I call an attorney friend for a referral to a criminal defense specialist. Unless you want to try your divo—’

  ‘I think the sheriff’s suggestion makes sense,’ Lynne interrupted, her eyes shooting a warning toward Eric’s back.

  Of course. She didn’t want the divorce mentioned in front of him. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone for Caron Egan. Bernie’s wife had been a friend for a good fifteen years and my partner in Uncommon Grounds for a bad one, but I’d be damned if I could remember her number at the moment.

  ‘Ginny asked for a lawyer, huh?’ Eric asked. ‘Told you she had cojones.’

  I hit ‘call.’ ‘Again with the cojones?’

  ‘You’d rather I said “b—”’

  ‘Hush!’ A voice picked up on the other end. Luckily I’d gotten Bernie instead of Caron and, if he wasn’t a man of few words, they were fewer than those of his wife. Once I’d explained the situation I handed over the phone to Lynne again.

  As she and the trademark attorney spoke, Eric maneuvered the car back onto the road and drove the remaining way to the county complex.