“I’m sure you do.” Manfred shrugged. “Cops are just people. They have their likes and dislikes. It would be nice if she could be pleasant and respectful. But as long as she does her job, that’s what we need.” Manfred felt noble and surprisingly adult after his little speech.
“It doesn’t sound like she did her job that day.”
“You’ll have to ask her about that.”
“I intend to.” Arthur nodded sharply, as though that topic was closed and they should move on to other things.
“Putting that aside,” Manfred said agreeably, “you were telling me about what killed Rachel. And I have a question.”
“What’s that? I may or may not know the answer.”
“Would it have been fatal even if she hadn’t been sick?”
“Yes, probably. Of course, I haven’t read the autopsy report or talked to the medical examiner. Not my place, not my case. But that’s what the Bonnet Park cops say.”
“So her blood pressure just dropped? Until she couldn’t live anymore?”
“Essentially, yes.” Arthur lifted some papers on the desk in front of him, then dropped them. “The important point as far as you’re concerned is that unless something was radically different about Rachel Goldthorpe’s metabolism, she ingested that medicine before she got to your room. Probably forty-five minutes to an hour before, but it could have been a little later.”
Manfred felt overwhelmingly relieved. “How do you know?” he said.
“She died less than fifteen minutes after she’d entered your room. The toxicologist says that makes it almost a hundred percent certain that she ingested it earlier than that.”
“So I’m off the hook for putting pills in her water bottle and causing her death. But I’m still on the hook for the theft of her jewelry.”
“Based solely on Lewis’s words.” Arthur leaned back in his chair, which creaked alarmingly. They devoted a minute to thinking about that.
Footsteps went by outside, the telephone rang, voices rose and fell in conversation. A man laughed, full out, as if he’d heard the funniest joke ever. Manfred had the sense that life flowed all around them, that they were on an island in the middle of a stream. It was curiously comfortable and personal.
“I have to worry about the jewelry?” Manfred said.
Arthur spread his hands. “Lewis is acting so irrational that the Bonnet Park police hate to deal with him. But they have to take what he says seriously. And the jewelry is not in the house. There are six pieces that aren’t accounted for. They’re insured for quite a large amount.”
“As I told the cops there, she told me she hid the jewelry from Lewis.”
“As he told the cops there, she was carrying it in her purse and you stole it while she died. He said versus he said.”
“They searched the room. They searched my luggage. They searched her purse. They searched her poor old body, I’m sure.”
Arthur patted the air to tell Manfred to calm down. “Until it shows up, you need to be concerned. I wish you had a recording of Mrs. Goldthorpe saying those words.” He stood up. “I’m sorry, Manfred, but they’re bringing in a suspect in those convenience store robberies. I’ve got to question him.”
“Sure, and thanks for the good news.” It just wasn’t good enough. Manfred hoped his talk with Olivia and Barry today was productive. He was ready to feel free again.
29
To Manfred’s astonishment, he had a guest when he returned from Davy. And she was as mad as anyone he’d ever seen. Magdalena Powell pulled up in her car just as he got out of his, and Olivia (with perfect timing) came out of the side door of the pawnshop and walked across the dry brown lawn.
Magdalena shot out of her car and launched right in. “Forging my letterhead to send a bogus letter from me! Don’t deny it. I’m seriously considering bringing a case against you. You’d never get out of jail once I got through with you.”
“Hello, Ms. Powell,” Manfred said, spreading a big dollop of calm all over his voice. “Before you get any more upset, let me tell you the circumstances.”
“Ms. Powell, I have to confess,” Olivia said, her voice so charming that Manfred turned to her with his mouth hanging open. “It wasn’t Manfred. It was me.”
It was hard to say who was more astonished by Olivia’s confession.
“And you are?”
“Olivia Charity. I’m Manfred’s neighbor. I’ve been so worried about him. In trying to get him out of this terrible predicament he’s in, I confess I went overboard. But when you hear the result of the stunt I pulled, I think you’ll forgive me. I had Manfred’s welfare at heart.” She looked at Manfred meaningfully. The ball was in his court.
Manfred made his jaw snap shut and said numbly, “Please come in. I can tell we need to talk for a while.”
“We sure do,” Magdalena said, though in a somewhat modified tone. She swept into the house when Manfred stood back, and Manfred gave Olivia a big, silent, questioning expression when Magdalena’s back was to them. Olivia just smiled. Then Magdalena turned around and the moment was over.
“Um, please, come in and sit down,” Manfred said. He’d had a lot of visitors lately, and he was beginning to wonder if Midnight was isolated enough. As he turned to close the front door, he saw a naked man walking on the sidewalk across the street. He froze for a second. The man was Diederik, and Diederik was definitely fully grown. Manfred pushed the door shut before Magdalena caught a glimpse. He thought, What the hell?
But he turned to face his guests, who hadn’t seen. He did his best to act as though they were the sole focus of his attention.
“Can I get you a glass of water or some coffee or some tea?” he asked, not too surprised his voice came out funny.
“An explanation will be sufficient,” Magdalena said, sounding every inch the lawyer.
“Please, let’s sit in the living room,” Manfred said, shepherding them farther into the house. Anything to get away from the front window.
With tactical precision, Magdalena sat in the armchair so that she could look at Manfred and Olivia at the same time. “All right,” she said, her hands planted on her knees. “Let’s have it.”
Manfred was more than ready to leave the explanation to Olivia, since he had no idea what she was going to say. He was surprised when she gave Magdalena a factual account of their trip to Bonnet Park the day before—factual, that is, if you believed in telepathy and if you didn’t know that Olivia had a lot of experience as a sort of covert operative.
To give the lawyer credit, she listened with every appearance of attention and interest. If her slight smile got tighter and tighter, that was only what Manfred expected.
At the end of Olivia’s story, Magdalena said, “You know this is a bunch of bullshit, right?”
“I know to most lawyers it would sound like the chitchat of a total nut,” Olivia said. “But I also know you’ve done legal work for my . . . boyfriend, Lemuel Bridger.”
“Yes, well, Lemuel is a real person to whom I have spoken on more than one occasion,” Magdalena said. “He’s not a mind-reader or a psychic.”
“But he is an energy-sucking vampire,” Manfred said brightly.
Magdalena looked down, as if she didn’t want to go on record as admitting even that much. “Lemuel is unusual,” she conceded.
Olivia didn’t even try to conceal her smirk. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” she said. “But the important thing is that Manfred is telling the truth. And if we hadn’t gotten into the house to see for ourselves, I would never have known where the jewelry is. But now, I know.”
That was what Manfred wanted to know. They hadn’t had a chance to talk alone on the drive home. “Where?” he asked eagerly.
“Where is it?” Magdalena leaned forward.
“It’s in the globe.” Olivia leaned back, smiling triumphantly. “Remember? Well, m
aybe you wouldn’t, since you weren’t yourself. Rachel told us she saw the world. World, get it?”
“The globe,” he said blankly.
“The globe in Morton Goldthorpe’s study.”
“How do you figure that?” Magdalena was skeptical, to say the least.
“I’ve seen another one made by the same company, a globe that was designed to hold guns,” Olivia said. “It has a fitted compartment inside so they won’t shift around and make noise if someone spins the globe.”
“But you haven’t had an opportunity to open the globe to test this theory of yours?”
“No, I couldn’t do it with Lewis standing by. He would turn around and accuse us of planting the jewelry to escape prosecution.”
“Since you’ve been in the house, that is certainly what a police officer might assume.” Magdalena wasn’t as angry as she had been, but she wasn’t thrilled about Olivia’s information, either. She was thinking it through. “Say you’re right, and the jewelry is in the globe. How will we go about proving that in a way that won’t leave a shadow on my client?”
“Let me just add another detail here,” Manfred said, feeling that the two women were settling his future without his input. “I just came from a conversation with the sheriff in Davy.”
“You went to talk to the sheriff without me.” Magdalena’s temperature was rising again.
“Since he’s not the Bonnet Park police, yeah. He had something to tell me that we didn’t get around to yesterday,” Manfred said. “Since he’d driven down here to tell me, it seemed like the least I could do. And what he told me was that apparently Rachel was murdered.”
Both women were absolutely stunned. Manfred took care to look at Olivia directly, and he could swear that she was genuinely taken aback. Relief flooded him, but he was very careful not to show it.
“How?” Olivia asked. “How was she murdered? When I saw her in the lobby, she seemed to be unwell but not anywhere close to death.”
“It’s likely that someone crushed several of her blood pressure pills and put them in her water bottle. I guess there’s a remote possibility she did that herself, but she was really sane, and she did not have a suicidal thought in her head.”
“Someone who had access to the pills and the bottle,” Magdalena said. “That limits the field considerably.” She smiled. “In fact, that means it has to have been the maid or the son, right?”
“No, not exactly. I wish it were that clear-cut. When she dropped her purse in the lobby,” Manfred said, “everything fell out of it, including the water bottle. So it’s just possible that the bottle was switched there. It was pretty distinctive: a black refillable bottle with butterflies on it. I say it must have been a switch—I can’t see how anyone could drop the medicine into the bottle she already had, not out there in public with so many eyes watching. To say nothing of the security cameras. To say nothing of having to ensure Rachel dropped her purse in the first place. To say nothing of the timing of the pill ingestion being wrong, according to the postmortem.”
“I helped her pick her things up,” Olivia said immediately. “She was really flustered and embarrassed. And I handed her everything I found. But I don’t remember a water bottle. Either I simply didn’t register it, or someone else must have picked it up.” She looked momentarily abstracted, as if she were re-creating the scene in her head. “There were lots of people helping her, including a police officer. It took more time than you’d think. Stuff had rolled under the furniture.”
Manfred gave himself permission to believe Olivia was innocent. What he said out loud was, “Since Lewis is going to be a hot suspect in his mother’s murder, do we still need to worry about the jewel theft?”
“Yes, of course,” Magdalena said, as if he were an idiot. “He hasn’t been arrested yet. Even if he is, he’s got a good lawyer, as I think you know, Mr. Bernardo.”
Manfred winced. “Yeah, he sneaked my last lawyer out from under me, but I’m pleased with my representation now.” He managed a weak smile, which Magdalena didn’t bother to return.
“Besides,” Magdalena said, pursuing her own train of thought, “his fingerprints could logically be on the bottle. So could the maid’s. Maybe Rachel kept her bottle in the household refrigerator. They could have moved it from one side to another, innocently. They both had access to her pills. And thousands of people take that same medicine. Perhaps the pills could have been introduced into the bottle of water much earlier. She might not have used it in a while. You say she’d been confined to the house, sick, and maybe she only took the bottle with her when she was riding in her car. I’m sure there were many occasions when people were in the house prior to Rachel leaving for her appointment with you. Her entire family was surely in and out during her illness. All of those people might have a reason for wanting her dead at that point in time. Maybe her daughters got impatient for their inheritance.”
Manfred wondered if he looked as dismayed as he felt. “But none of that is true,” he protested feebly.
“It all might be true,” the lawyer said. “There’s plenty of doubt there. Unless the case against Lewis gets strengthened somehow . . . for example, if Bertha the maid says she saw him putting something into his mother’s water bottle, or if he has a girlfriend who taped him confessing to killing his mother . . . there might not be enough real evidence to charge him with the crime.”
Olivia nodded. “I’m afraid that’s the case,” she said. “Of course, Lewis is so unpredictable that he might confess. Though I don’t think so. I think he’s all about Lewis, all about getting everything that’s his due and then some.”
“So really, I’m no better off? Even now that it really seems probable that Lewis killed his mother?”
Magdalena sighed heavily. “I don’t think so. Plus, now you’ve made me angry with you, with good reason, though your friend Olivia is taking the blame. And we have to decide how to get the police to check the globe.”
Olivia said, “Can I just apologize to you very sincerely for using a trick that seemed brilliant to me at the moment?”
“You can apologize, but I hardly think that’s enough.”
Manfred groped around for a response. “What else can we do, Magdalena?” He felt he had to include Olivia in the atonement, since she’d shouldered the blame.
Magdalena sighed again and looked off into the distance. “You can give my mother a reading. A personal reading.”
Olivia looked away, too, to hide her smile, but Manfred saw it. He kept his own face solemn. “Your mom’s a follower? I’m flattered.”
“She is. It’s the flaw in her character. Otherwise, she’s a sane and rational woman. Active in her community and in her church. But she’s a fan of the Great Manfredo. Every time you put on your website that you’re going to do some personal readings in whatever city, she figures out the cost of going and having the reading, and every time she can’t quite bring herself to part with the money. But if you would go to her home and give her a reading, I will forgive your deception in forging my letterhead. I’m choosing to blame you instead of Miss Charity, here, because it was done on your behalf. If you ever do such a thing again, I will sue your ass.”
“Where does your mother live?” Manfred accepted those terms happily. He was relieved. He didn’t care if Magdalena saw that. In fact, he was glad she did.
“Mother lives in Killeen. Her name is Agnes. You’ll have to set up a time with her. I’m telling her this is her belated Mother’s Day present.”
“I’d be delighted.” Manfred wondered how long the drive to Killeen was, but he would start out right now if he had to. He was just relieved she didn’t live somewhere even farther away.
He had a definite presentiment that he would meet Magdalena’s mother, so at least he would live a little while longer. He wandered to the front window, where the curtains were drawn, to see what was happening now. The Rev was outside t
he chapel. He was pulling a long hose back to the fence enclosing the pet cemetery. He was fully clothed, though he was not wearing his usual black jacket. The boy—man?—was nowhere in sight, thank God.
“Now that that’s settled,” Magdalena said, her voice sharp to demand his attention, “have you and Miss Charity had an idea about how to tell the police where to look?”
“Anonymous phone call?”
“From where?”
“I could drive to a town between here and Dallas and find a pay phone.” Olivia sounded doubtful.
“Yes, but there aren’t any isolated ones anymore. At least, not any that you could assume would function. There are some at rest stops, but those are usually under camera surveillance.”
“True,” Olivia said. “Okay, cell phones are out. We could buy a phone, but I suppose they keep serial numbers somewhere?” Of course Olivia had a burner phone in her apartment, but she wasn’t about to admit that to a lawyer. “What about an anonymous letter?”
Manfred grimaced in distaste. His grandmother had gotten some. That was a very bad memory. The viciousness of them, the cowardice of people who wouldn’t reveal their names, had nauseated him.
Of course, if he sent one, it wouldn’t contain an accusation. It would be a statement. “The jewelry of Mrs. Goldthorpe is in the globe in her husband’s study in her house.” Something simple and declarative like that, with lots of nouns. But still . . . that was a last resort.
Magdalena said very reluctantly, “I have a client. The police say he sells illegal drugs. I say they haven’t proved it. But he told me there’s an app on his phone that can turn it into a burner. It’s legal. He might show me how that works.”
Manfred let out a gust of breath. “So, you’ll call them soon?”
“He has an appointment this afternoon,” she said. “If he keeps it, I just may ask him to show it to me.”
Manfred had never appreciated how much more difficult sneaking around had gotten. Surveillance cameras, cell phone records that showed where you were when you made a call, advances in lab testing . . . but he wondered how much of the available technology (which must be expensive, both the investment in equipment and in technicians who understood how to use it) the average law enforcement department could actually finance and employ. Would this poor county have access to forensic labs that could tell you what ream of paper a sheet of computer paper had come from, and where it was sold? Would they view hours of surveillance footage to determine who’d bought that paper? Manfred was skeptical. He’d watched plenty of television shows where police departments not only could unearth this very specific information but could do it instantly. He didn’t believe that could be the truth. So maybe this would be the right way to go: having his lawyer make a sneaky phone call. Simple enough.
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