Cardiac Arrest, page 8
“Mmm.” That was something of an understatement.
“Well, wouldn’t you know it, this afternoon she and I were walking back to the Gardens from mah-jongg at the Towers, and someone started following us. I’m sure of it.”
Ernie covered a chuckle. “There’s a fair amount of foot and wheelchair traffic on that route, Mary Lee. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Did you actually see anyone?” Dorothy asked.
“No, I just got a very definite feeling that there was a person right behind us,” Mary Lee said. “But every time I turned around, there was no one there. It gives me chills again, just thinking about it.”
Dorothy noticed that the petite woman’s hand shook as she took a large sip of her yellow-orange martini.
“I did see a shadow, though,” Mary Lee added. “And I heard a rustle or two in the bushes.”
“A squirrel, perhaps,” Dorothy said.
“Or a gator,” Ernie added. He was really having fun with this.
Luckily, Mary Lee didn’t seem to hear him. “Oh, and that tall blonde girl from yoga class—the one Gladys doesn’t care for—passed us on the walkway a few moments later. She was in a big hurry.”
“Summer is always in a hurry,” Dorothy said. “Or maybe it seems that way to us, because she moves so much faster than we do. Did you or Gladys see anyone else?”
Mary Lee shook her head. “No, just people we knew.”
“Well, what did Gladys have to say about it?” Ernie asked. “If you ask me, no lurking spy would stand a chance against her.”
“I didn’t tell her,” Mary Lee practically whispered. “She didn’t seem to notice anything, because she was talking so much. I knew she would say I was just being jumpy. But if someone was there, and Gladys ever confronted him or her...” Her words trailed away until they were completely inaudible.
Dorothy patted her on the arm. “Now, now, Mary Lee. Gladys is a very strong woman. I don’t think you need to worry about her at all.”
“Not about her safety, anyway,” Ernie said, under his breath. Dorothy frowned at him.
“This horrid business about Dr. A has set all of us on edge, Mary Lee,” she went on. “Why don’t you try to relax and put those frightening thoughts out of your mind?”
“That’s right,” Ernie put in. “And you know what the best thing for that is?”
Mary Lee looked at her martini glass.
“A lucky spin at the roulette wheel!” Ernie finished. “What do you say, ladies? I have an hour or so before I need to be home. Shall I escort you both to Pointe Vegas?”
“No, thank you, Ernie,” Dorothy said, with a smile. “I still haven’t gotten to that book of mine, and it’s been on my nightstand for ages. Maybe another time.”
“I’ll go,” Mary Lee said, brightening.
Ernie rose from the table and extended his arm in her direction. “All right, baby! We’re money, Mary Lee.” He threw her a winning smile.
The tiny woman stood up, hurriedly swallowed the rest of her drink, and smiled back.
Much better, Dorothy thought, giving Ernie a grateful look. But it probably wouldn’t hurt for Mary Lee to lay off the martinis for a while.
* * *
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home to the Gardens?” Ernie asked Dorothy again, as he and Mary Lee stopped outside of the Magnolia Ballroom.
The Casino Night festivities were already in full swing. Dorothy easily spotted Gladys Rumway, squeezed into a tight, black-and-red-diamond dress accessorized by a card-themed scarf, in the middle of the action.
“Please, you two go ahead,” Dorothy said. Ernie didn’t have much free time, and the distraction would be good for Mary Lee. “If you end up being big winners, you can buy me dinner tomorrow night.”
“Count on it,” Ernie said, with a wave.
A cool breeze hit Dorothy’s face as she stepped through the sliding glass doors into the evening air. It was darker than usual for seven-thirty, with angry-looking clouds rolling across the sky. She was glad she’d worn her lightweight cardigan, but it would be nice to have an umbrella, just in case. Florida weather could turn very quickly.
The solar lights along the walk beamed on, one by one. The parking lots were deserted and some of the residents would already be preparing for bed. She often walked home alone after dinner, and sometimes much later, but for some reason she felt an odd sense of foreboding tonight. Was she being watched?
Nonsense, she told herself, quickening her pace. She wasn’t going to let Mary Lee Messinger’s silly talk spook her.
“Dorothy, hey!”
She jumped, then touched her chest in relief as Summer pounded up the walk behind her. “You gave me a fright.”
“Oh, sorry,” Summer said. Her wet hair was slicked back and she wore only a light T-shirt dress over her damp bathing suit.
“You must be freezing,” Dorothy said. “I hope you’re headed straight home.”
“Yep.” Summer’s lips did look a little blue, but maybe that was from spending so much time in the water. “I’m glad I ran into you, though, because you’re the exact person I needed to talk to. I have a Dr. A update.”
“Really?” Dorothy said. “What?”
Summer looked around. “Do you want to come up to my place, so we can talk better? I’ve got wine. And ice cream.”
Dorothy hesitated, gazing toward the Towers. The lipstick-shaped, thirty-three-story building overlooking the water wasn’t terribly far away, but she usually took the shuttle to events held there. There wouldn’t be another until Casino Night ended in the main building, and that would be the last until the morning.
“No worries,” Summer said. “If you’re up for the walk there, I can drive you home.”
“Well, all right,” Dorothy said, secretly relieved by the prospect of company. “I’d invite you to my condo, since it’s closer, but I suspect that Mr. Bitey has been sleeping on the couch while I’ve been out.”
“I must be more of a dog person,” Summer said, as they started toward the Towers. “I’ve never actually had one, though. Too much work.”
Margaret Sloan’s former condo was something of a mess, Dorothy noted, when Summer flipped on the light. Not a lived-in mess, exactly, but more of a not-lived-in one. Moving boxes were piled in every room and the dated decor didn’t exactly fit her granddaughter’s exuberant personality.
“Just make yourself at home while I change,” Summer said. “Check out the view from the balcony, if you want. Heights make me freak, so I never go out there.”
Dorothy pulled back the heavy floral drapes and gazed out over the rapidly darkening ocean. It wasn’t raining yet, but repeated streaks of lightning split the purplish sky.
“Cool, huh?” Summer came back into the living room, carrying a bottle of red wine and two glasses. “I don’t know if this stuff is any good or not. Some lady brought my dad a welcome basket.”
Dorothy had planned to politely decline, but maybe one glass of wine before bed wouldn’t hurt. Summer seemed glad to have some company, too. It couldn’t be easy living in a place without other young people around. For the life of her, though, she still didn’t understand why Summer had chosen to live here in a dull retirement community—even temporarily. She, Dorothy, would certainly never have done so, at the same age.
“So, tell me your news about Dr. A,” she said.
Summer poured out two very full glasses of the wine, spilling a few drops on the glass coffee table. “Well, I met this great guy, Dash, and his little girl yesterday,” she said. “They were the ones I was having ice cream with when Detective Donovan showed up and wrecked everything.”
“How nice that you’re making friends,” Dorothy said. She certainly hoped this man Dash—what an odd name—wasn’t married. Some women were incredibly naive.
“Anyway, Dash has a partner named Julian, and their kid’s name is Juliette-Margot. They have a big house over in the Villas section.”
Dorothy blinked, then nodded. She got the picture, and it didn’t bother her. One had to stay open-minded about things, and keep up with the times. The personal lives of others were really none of her business, anyway.
Unless they involved the possible business of murder. “Go on.”
“Well, you know how Dr. A was cheating on Mia with Marilyn? Or on Marilyn with Mia?” Summer asked. “He may have had a boyfriend, too.”
Dorothy took a very large sip of her wine, burning her throat.
“But guess who it was?” Summer paused again. “Eduardo, that snotty maître d’ from Chameleon!”
Dorothy quickly put her wine down on the coffee table, so she wouldn’t spill it. “That’s quite a coincidence.”
“Yeah,” Summer said. “So we might actually have ourselves another suspect. Eduardo could have been jealous of Mia.”
“Or Marilyn,” Dorothy pointed out. “But he wasn’t in Dr. A’s office that morning. Not as far as we know, anyway.”
Summer swirled her wine. “It could have been a poison that took a while to work, right? That way, the murderer could have slipped it to him earlier. And that might help prove it wasn’t me.”
“Well, we can’t be sure yet that Dr. A was poisoned.” Dorothy told Summer what she’d learned at the meeting of concerned ladies in the locker room that morning. “If Gladys’s mole at the Milano PD is correct, and the toxicology results do indicate a particular type of poison, we’ll have more clues to the killer’s identity.”
“Maybe you should talk to Detective Donovan,” Summer said. “I don’t know if I’d have much luck with him.”
Probably not, Dorothy thought. Even Summer at her most charming wouldn’t get anything out of that man. He seemed to work very much by the book. Also, one never knew what that girl might say, especially around the detective. No point in taking a risk.
She took another sip of wine. “Why don’t we do some research first, on medications and poisons that might cause throat swelling or cardiac arrest?”
“Okay.” Summer immediately reached for her phone.
“Let’s wait until tomorrow morning,” Dorothy said. “That way, we can look at things together on the computer in the Resident Business Center. I have to admit I’m feeling a bit tired right now.”
“Probably the wine,” Summer said. “You can sleep here tonight, in my grandma’s guest room, if you want. It’s all made up, and everything.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Dorothy protested, but if truth be told, she was downright dizzy now. Besides, Summer shouldn’t drive after a glass of wine or two.
“It’ll be fun,” Summer said. “Kind of like a sleepover.”
Dorothy hesitated. Was the young woman lonely, rattling around in this enormous condo filled with things that weren’t hers?
“You wouldn’t have to worry about clean clothes, either, because my grandma’s closet is full of stuff.” Summer sighed. “None of it fits me. I’m way too tall. Vintage isn’t really my style, either.”
“Well, all right,” Dorothy agreed, “if you’re sure I’m not imposing.”
“Nope. I’ll get some clean towels and a nightgown for you.” Her partner jumped up from the couch and headed to an enormous, walk-in closet beside the powder room. “Oh, and there’s something else we need to do tomorrow.”
“What’s that?” Dorothy picked up the wine glasses and the half-empty bottle and brought them to the breakfast bar.
“I made us some appointments.” Summer’s voice was muffled as she struggled to extract a fluffy pink towel from a tightly packed stack. “At Maurice Georges.”
“That fancy salon?” Dorothy nearly dropped the wine glasses on the white carpet. “That’s way out of our price range, dear.”
“No, it’s not,” Summer said. “We’ll pay for it out of the emergency fund. And we have to go tomorrow, because it’s Thursday, and that’s when Esmé said Mia Rivera-Jones and her friends get their mani-pedis.”
“What services did you book us for?” Dorothy could only imagine what crazy ideas Summer had planned.
“I figured the nail technicians would all be busy, so I set up a wax for me, and a cut and style for you.” Summer handed Dorothy a lovely blue negligee and matching dressing gown.
Dorothy touched her hair. “Oh, I don’t know...”
“You’ll look gorgeous. Trust me.”
Dorothy had just settled under the sateen quilt of one of the twin guest beds when Summer knocked and stuck her head through the door. “Hey, Dorothy?” she asked. “I was just wondering. Will Mr. Bitey be okay on his own tonight?”
“He’ll be fine,” Dorothy said. “That’s one advantage to having a kitty, rather than a dog.”
“Oh. I didn’t want him to freak out because he was alone or anything. Good night.”
Dorothy smiled, as she turned out the bedside lamp. The girl often acted as if she couldn’t care less about things, but she definitely had a few soft spots. Even for cats. “Good night,” she said.
Chapter Twelve
“Don’t you think you should sit on something, dear?” Dorothy asked. “You’re getting the computer chair all damp with that wet suit.”
“Okay.” Summer pulled her equally wet towel from her pool bag. “So what should we search for, ‘poisons that cause throat swelling’?”
“Let’s try ‘medications that stop the heart’ first,” Dorothy suggested. “It makes sense that the killer would have chosen some common drug that was easily available in Dr. A’s office.”
“You mean, like samples or something?”
Dorothy nodded. “Possibly.”
“Whoa.” Summer peered closer at the screen. “Someone used the computer before us and left the website search history on. Check this out.” She pulled down the drop-down menu from the little arrow on the search bar. “They did the exact same search.”
“But why would the person leave that information behind?” Dorothy frowned. “Shouldn’t he or she have erased it?”
“Sure, if it was stuff they didn’t want anyone else to see.” Summer shrugged. “Guess they’re not that good with computers.”
Dorothy looked up at the sign posted on the wall behind the monitor. The lengthy list of rules under the Hibiscus Pointe logo clearly warned that the computers in the Business Center were set for public use. The viewing of questionable websites was strictly forbidden and entering personal and confidential information, including passwords, was not recommended.
“Perhaps they were in a hurry, and forgot to cover their tracks,” Dorothy said. “Or maybe it’s simply a coincidence and whomever was here before us just happened to need that info for reasons totally unrelated to Dr. A.”
“You think?” Summer looked doubtful.
“No, not really,” Dorothy admitted. “I’m nearly positive it was Gladys, trying to get the information her contact wouldn’t give her.”
“That makes sense,” Summer agreed.
“Can you tell when the person did the search?”
“Sure, if we look at the temporary Internet files,” Summer said. “Oops. Uh-oh. I think I may have actually deleted them by mistake.”
“Oh no!” Dorothy said, horrified. “Can you get them back?”
“Maybe.” Summer tapped the keyboard a few times, then pushed back in the rolling office chair and blew her side bangs out of her eyes. “Nope. I’m really sorry. Guess I’m used to using my phone all the time now.”
Dorothy sighed in frustration. Surely Summer hadn’t erased that information on purpose? No. She was not even going to entertain another thought like that. It was disloyal to her sleuthing partner—not to mention entirely ridiculous, no matter what Detective Donovan and Gladys and Marilyn or whoever else thought. She trusted this girl, and she certainly couldn’t have done any better with the computer herself. “Never mind, dear. Why don’t we just start over again, and see what medications come up?”
Summer typed into the search box and clicked the mouse again. “There are a ton of them.” She learned toward the screen. “Haloperidol, chlorpromazine, common antibiotics, antihistamines... Take your pick.”
“Oh my,” Dorothy said, in horror. “Antibiotics? And antihistamines, good heavens.”
“They’re probably fine if you take the right amount,” Summer said. “Unless you’re allergic to them, maybe.”
“As far as I know, I’m only allergic to mangos,” Dorothy said. “That’s all I have listed in my resident files. And my menu card in the dining room.”
“So you’re okay, then,” Summer said. “But hey, what if Dr. A was allergic to something and someone used it to kill him?”
“It still could have been an accident, of course.” Dorothy frowned. “Who would have had that kind of personal information about Dr. A?”
“Lots of people,” Summer said. “Marilyn, maybe, probably Mia, since she was his fiancée, and I don’t know about Eduardo. The only one who wouldn’t know was me.”
“Well, let’s make a list of as many of those medications as we can.” Dorothy took a blank piece of paper from the printer tray. “Maybe we can try to find out about any allergies Dr. A might have had from Marilyn or Mia.”
“Or Mia’s caterer,” Summer pointed out. “But that would mean talking to Eduardo, ugh. They couldn’t serve any food the groom was allergic to at the reception, right? That would have made for one really bad wedding night.”
“Perhaps you can find that out when you’re working the party Saturday night,” Dorothy said. “Excuse me, the memorial,” she corrected quickly.
“If I’m not in jail by then,” Summer reminded her.
“You won’t be,” Dorothy said. She hoped not, anyway. With luck, those lab results the detective was waiting for would remove any question of her friend’s innocence. But even if they didn’t, for some reason, it wouldn’t matter—because she and Summer were going to solve this case and bring the real murderer to justice.
