Cardiac Arrest, page 18
That was much too high to be an accident. Had someone pushed up the thermostat on purpose?
Jennifer came up behind Dorothy and frowned over her shoulder. “This is unbelievable,” she said. “We have the rooms set for seventy-two degrees in every building. Someone must have tried to adjust the temperature the wrong way.”
At least the services director hadn’t immediately placed the blame on Summer, Dorothy noted, feeling somewhat relieved.
But she doubted it had been an accident. For one thing, the person would have had to press a button to switch from air conditioning to heat. Then he or she would need to press a second button to manually change the digital temperature readout. And they would have to hold it down for a considerable amount of time to reach more than one hundred degrees.
“A malfunction with the thermostat, perhaps,” Dorothy murmured.
“I’ll have Maintenance look at it right away.” Jennifer reached for the cell phone she kept on her belt.
Dorothy glanced back toward the Fabulously Fit class, where people were whispering and gathering their things. Gladys appeared to be having quite a conversation with Summer, stomping her foot and waving her arms.
“Well, looks like everyone’s okay now, I guess,” Jennifer said. “That’s the important thing.” She seemed in quite a hurry to leave.
Dorothy could hardly blame her. “Absolutely. Oh, and Jennifer,” she added, as the services director turned away, “did you notice anyone out here in the hallway earlier? Maybe in the last twenty minutes or so?”
“No, not that I remember,” Jennifer said. “But I’ve been working in my office for the past couple of hours. I’d better get back there, too. Roger just called a staff meeting for three thirty.”
“Well, have a nice rest of the afternoon, then,” Dorothy said. Jennifer nodded, and scurried down the hall.
Dorothy headed toward the ladies locker room to freshen up before she and Summer called on Marilyn. But something else was worrying her now.
Why would someone turn up the heat in the fitness room on purpose?
The guilty party could have been trying to make Summer look irresponsible, of course. Gladys herself could easily have adjusted the thermostat. But Dorothy doubted that the big woman, who didn’t tolerate heat well on a good day, would take that kind of risk with her own health.
What if the culprit had targeted a particular person in the fitness room? And if so, whom?
Me, Dorothy realized. Maybe the same person who’d tried to harm her at Mia’s party had made another attempt.
She was starting to think like Gladys now, Dorothy scolded herself. But it definitely wouldn’t hurt to be more cautious from now on.
* * *
“Why, hello again, Dorothy.” Marilyn opened her front door with a little white dog in her arms. “And... Summer.” Her voice dropped. “Won’t you come in?”
She’s so not thrilled we showed up, Summer thought.
“We were just on our way downtown to check out that big sale at Linens and Lace,” Dorothy said, “and we thought we’d drop in to see how you were doing.”
Linens and Lace? Summer shuddered. She’d never be caught dead in that place.
“Lovely.” Marilyn’s fake smile tightened a few tiny lip lines the plastic surgeon had missed. Today she looked like the wife from The Dick Van Dyke Show reruns, in her black capris, white tennis shoes, and fitted, black-and-white knit top. What was that character’s name? Summer wracked her brain. Laura Petrie.
“I was just getting ready to head out myself,” Marilyn added, as Dorothy stepped past her into the hallway. Summer reached out to pat the little dog on the head. It growled and showed her its tiny white teeth.
She was going to have to rethink the dog-person thing.
“We’ll only stay for a minute,” Dorothy said.
“Can I get you anything?” Marilyn asked. “Tea, water, a nice glass of wine?”
“No, but that’s very kind of you, thanks,” Dorothy answered, for both of them. Summer stared at the giant framed photo over the fake fireplace. It was a glamour shot of Marilyn, wearing a cheesy, velvet-trimmed bathrobe opened wide enough to reveal a peek of satin nightgown. Eww.
“So, Dorothy.” Marilyn placed the little dog down on the carpet and settled into an uncomfortable looking chair. “How are you feeling today? I heard you had quite a trying time last evening.”
Word sure travels fast in this town, Summer thought. But it was hard to believe either Mia or Dr. Anderson had spilled the details of Dorothy’s mango incident. Mia had other things on her mind and her dad’s doctor was supposed to be professional, right?
On the other hand, so was Dr. A.
“Oh, it was nothing,” Dorothy said. “Just a touch of an allergy. How are the arrangements going for tomorrow?”
“I was actually on my way to the funeral home when you arrived,” Marilyn said. “To approve the music selections.”
“Won’t the church handle the music?” Dorothy said. “I’ve heard Saint Joe’s has very firm guidelines for Memorial Masses.”
Marilyn’s face reddened under her foundation. She was more of a yellow-orange than pink-red, Summer decided. And an incredibly bad liar, too. “So Marilyn,” she said, casually twirling her foot, “How do you know that guy Eduardo again?”
Beside her, she felt Dorothy stiffen.
“Eduardo who?” Marilyn raised her permanent-ink eyebrows. “I told you, I don’t know anyone by that name. And neither did Tony.”
The little dog launched itself at Summer from under the glass coffee table. She reflexively stonewalled it with the sole of her beige ballet flat.
“So sorry.” Marilyn rushed over to retrieve the bristling mop of fur and teeth. “Naughty girl, Crêpe Suzette.”
Crêpe Suzette? What kind of name was that for a dog? Or anything other than a dessert, for that matter.
“Are you very sure, Marilyn?” The bumpy mango rash was beginning to show up again on Dorothy’s face.
Marilyn sighed. “Oh, yes. Now that you mention it, I suppose I do remember an Eduardo. He handled some arrangements for Tony’s wake. Very helpful.”
Helpful wasn’t exactly the word that sprang to Summer’s mind. “Yep, that’s the one,” she said. “Like we said before, he was a good friend of Dr. A’s. I saw you punch him out at the wake, by the way.”
Marilyn froze, even as Crêpe Suzette jumped repeatedly toward her expertly chiseled chin. Then she scooped up the struggling dog, and covered her face in its frazzled fur.
“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice muffled. “I can’t talk about that man.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
What a drama queen, Summer thought.
“Now, Marilyn.” Dorothy was already up and patting her on the back. “Please don’t be upset. Just take your time, and catch your breath.”
Dr. A’s former assistant gave a little hiccup and hugged Crêpe Suzette again to her well-augmented chest. If she wasn’t careful, she’d stifle the yappy thing to death. “Eduardo Silva is a despicable person,” she blurted, finally. “He was planning to siphon off every penny of Tony’s hard-earned money.”
So Dr. A was sponging off Mia, and Eduardo was extracting dough from Dr. A. Yep, that made perfect sense. The two guys definitely deserved each other.
And Marilyn deserved whatever she was going to get, too, for trying to blame her for Dr. A’s murder.
“Why don’t you dry those tears, Marilyn, and tell us all about it?” Dorothy said, still patting. “Maybe some of that lovely wine might help. Would you like Summer to get some for you?”
“I’m on it,” Summer said quickly, eager to get away from all the waterworks.
Marilyn’s kitchen was well organized in a Martha Stewart sort of way. From what little she knew of the woman, Summer figured it was usually superclean. Right now, though, it looked even worse than hers. She almost barfed when she saw the spaghetti-covered dishes in the sink and got a whiff of the rotting sushi containers on the counter. At least the whacko hadn’t lost her appetite in all her grief.
There were two wine glasses already on the counter, containing the dregs from a nearby bottle of cheap Cabernet. Were they both Marilyn’s or had she had another visitor? It didn’t matter, because there was no way she was going to wash them out. Summer reached into the cupboard for clean glasses and pulled a half-full Chardonnay bottle from the fridge.
Marilyn’s keychain, with the mini container of mace and the tiny flashlight, had been tossed on the counter beside the wine bottle. Maybe she’d been on her way out when they’d arrived, but Summer doubted her destination was the funeral home. It would be stupid to trust anything that crazy woman said.
Balancing the bistro tray she’d found in a side compartment of the kitchen island, Summer returned to the living room, with three hearty glasses of wine and some nasty-looking cookies.
Dr. A’s assistant seemed calmer, at least. Hopefully she’d be more coherent now.
“Marilyn just told me that Dr. A was planning to break his engagement,” Dorothy said, as Summer handed out the drinks.
“Mia had already dumped him,” Summer said, with a shrug.
“What?” Apparently, this was news to Marilyn. “Tony never mentioned such a thing. Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, I have my sources.” Summer dropped onto the couch and bit into a gingersnap. It tasted as bad as it looked. No fat, no sugar, no gluten, no salt. What was the point?
“When he told me he was calling things off with Mia, I thought it was because he was finally ready to commit to me,” Marilyn said. “But instead he said he was going to quit his practice and move to Italy. Can you believe it?”
Yes, Summer wanted to say, but she managed to keep her mouth shut. Nothing she heard about that jerk surprised her anymore.
“My,” Dorothy said. “None of us had the faintest idea that Dr. A intended to make such a big change.”
“Of course not,” Marilyn said, darkly. “He was going to leave everyone in the lurch. He could have referred his patients to other cardiologists, or sold his practice, but he had no plans for any of that, as far as I know. He wanted to get rid of everything, just like that. Even me.”
Oooh, so Marilyn was a teensy bit bitter, after all, Summer thought. Now that was more like it.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, dear, it doesn’t sound as if the two of you had a very open, trusting relationship,” Dorothy said. “Perhaps it was for the best that he broke things off.”
“It’s hard when you find out someone doesn’t love you back.” Marilyn sniffled.
“Tell me about it,” Summer said. When both women turned to stare at her, she added quickly, “I mean, you know, it happens to people all the time, right? Let’s get back to Eduardo.”
Marilyn took a huge gulp of wine, missing the shell-rimmed coaster as she set the glass down with a clank on the coffee table. “Apparently, he and Tony went way back. Eduardo was always trying to drag him into shady-sounding business deals. He even wanted Tony to talk Mia’s father into financing some big creative project of his.”
Dorothy tsk-tsked encouragingly.
“But worst of all, that awful man tried to horn in on our plans for that marvelous health shake I helped invent.”
“You mean, the one that killed Dr. A?” Summer asked.
Whoops. That line might have worked on Citizen’s Arrest, but it came out sounding sort of wrong in an actual suspect’s living room. Maybe she should work on her interview techniques.
She purposely didn’t look at Dorothy. Luckily, though, Marilyn seemed too distracted to have heard anything. Crêpe Suzette had started chewing on the corner of a chintzy pillow, and her owner was trying to extract a slimy gold tassel from the dog’s mouth.
“Now was that the same recipe as the drink Dr. A had in the office on Monday, dear?” Dorothy asked.
Much more diplomatic.
Marilyn nodded. “Tony and I developed the original formula together, but I was in charge of refining it. You know, to make it sweeter and thicker, and in various flavors, for instance.”
“Did you ever try mango?” Summer asked.
“No,” Marilyn answered. “But that’s not a bad idea.”
“Unless you were allergic to it,” Summer said. “Did you know Tony—I mean, Dr. A—couldn’t eat mangos?”
Marilyn’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know such personal information? Did he share that with you?”
Incredible. Was the whacko back to trying to blame her for poisoning their mutual employer? Or maybe she was just jealous. “No,” Summer said. “Mia did.”
Marilyn drained her wine. “Well, you two girls must be very best friends,” she said. “I’m not surprised. But to answer your question, I had no idea that Tony couldn’t tolerate mangos.”
“We’re asking, Marilyn, because Dr. A may have suffered an extremely severe allergic reaction,” Dorothy said. “There’s also the chance, of course, that he might have somehow come in contact with mango before he took that drink. It can take a bit of time for symptoms to develop.”
“So could anyone else have been in the office that morning?” Summer asked. “Besides Dorothy, Mia, you and me?”
Marilyn thought for a minute. “Well, I suppose,” she said, slowly. “There’s a back emergency exit that we always kept locked. People could get out, but not in. I’m sure the police checked that possibility, though.”
“Maybe the three of us should take another look around the office,” Dorothy suggested. “Just in case. We might discover something the detectives missed.”
“Oh, no, we couldn’t do that.” Marilyn’s eyes darted from Dorothy to Summer. “What if the person, if there really was someone else, came back and found us? Besides, it’s still a crime scene. The police have the whole place taped up.”
“You worked in that office, though,” Summer pointed out. “It would make sense for you to be there if anyone walked in on us, right?”
Marilyn clasped her hands and looked down at the carpet. “I’m not sure I’m ready to face going back there quite yet.” Her voice trembled.
What a faker, Summer told herself. She knew bad acting when she saw it. There had to be some other reason Marilyn didn’t want to return to the office—not with her and Dorothy, anyway.
“We could check to see if anything is missing, just in case,” Dorothy mused aloud. “Documents, for example, or computer files, or even petty cash.”
“Nothing is missing,” Marilyn said, firmly. “The police already took everything they needed, I’m sure. I handed over all the accounting information, and I’m the only person who touched Tony’s books.”
“It sounds as if you did everything you possibly could, then.” Dorothy rose from the couch. “This has been lovely, but Summer, dear, we really should get going if we’re going to make that sale before the store closes.”
Summer looked at her in surprise. Were they done questioning their suspect already? It was so obvious Dr. A’s assistant knew more than she was saying.
“So, Marilyn,” she said, without budging from her seat, “You never told us why you punched Eduardo out at the wake.”
“I don’t have to answer that.” Marilyn gave Crêpe Suzette another python hug. The little dog gave a muffled yelp and wriggled from her arms, hightailing it out of the living room.
“Oh, I think you do.” Summer tried hard to ignore the anxious looks Dorothy threw in her direction.
Marilyn stood up and smoothed her retro stretch pants. “I need to leave now myself, ladies,” she said. “I’ve already spoken with the police, several times, and I don’t feel that I owe anyone else any explanations about my private business. Not to mention, someone here in this room knows exactly what happened to Tony—and I’ve shared that opinion with Detective Donovan on more than one occasion. It’s just a matter of time before that person is arrested.”
Summer’s mouth dropped open. The whacko was going to get away with murder, and stick her with the blame.
It was a no-brainer that Marilyn had set her up to give Dr. A that drink. Why hadn’t she made it for their boss herself, if it was so superspecial and secret? She’d even told Detective Donovan, when he was questioning all of them together, that she’d added an extra ingredient or two before the doctor drank it.
So why was Detective Stalker snooping around and popping up everywhere? If he wanted to know stuff, why didn’t he ask her straight out, the way he did with Marilyn? It just wasn’t fair.
Maybe Marilyn was just trying to scare her about the getting-arrested deal. She was probably that creepy “Private Number” that kept popping up on her phone, too.
“That’s enough, Marilyn.” Dorothy slipped the straps of her purse over her wrist and moved toward the door. “I believe this is the end or our little visit.”
“I’ll see you both at the funeral, then.” Marilyn forced a crooked smile. “I have to powder my nose. Would you mind seeing yourselves out?”
“Of course,” Dorothy murmured. “Thank you for your time.”
“Don’t mention it.” Marilyn was already halfway up the stairs. “Bye now, ladies.”
Still fuming, Summer trailed Dorothy down the hall. “Oh, wait,” she said, stopping short just past the kitchen. “I forgot something. I think I left it on the counter. You go on ahead, okay? The car’s unlocked.”
“All right, dear,” Dorothy said. “It’s such a lovely day, I may just enjoy the sunshine. I could use some fresh air after that unpleasant conversation.”
In no time, Summer grabbed what she needed and skipped down the steps of Marilyn’s front patio.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Dorothy asked. “Nothing important, I hope.”
Summer grinned and snapped the head off a day lily along the brick walk. “No worries. It’s all good now.”
