“No, no one else that I saw. Just me, the bird, the cat, and Laura.”
“One of two possibilities, then,” he said, smiling down at me. It was a smile filled with irony and a good deal of understanding. “Someone wanted both of you dead, which doesn’t ring true unless that person knew you were going to visit her.”
“I didn’t tell anyone I was going to visit her.”
“All right then. It appears that you were an accident and it was Ms. Scott they were after.”
“But who would want to kill Laura?” Saying the words made me crazy with worry, and guilt. Because I’d blamed her.
“Not a clue yet. We have to wait to talk to her. You don’t think she did try to kill you and then gave herself just a bit of the drug to fool us?”
“No,” I said. “Absolutely not. Now that I’ve got my brain back in gear, I realize there was no reason for her to try to kill me. As far as I know she isn’t guilty of a thing. Don’t get me wrong, Detective, there’s lots of stuff going on here, stuff I haven’t figured out yet. My sister, primarily. Why she went off a cliff and now has vanished. I know she believed that Laura betrayed her. She didn’t want to see her. Perhaps she was even afraid of Laura. Or was that a lie? No matter how I slice it though, there’s no reason why Laura would try to kill me.”
“Maybe you were getting too close-to something,
Agent MacDougal.” I heard the tinny ring of a cell phone. He excused himself and walked over to the windows. He pulled a small cell phone out of his jacket pocket and spoke quietly.
I couldn’t just lie there like a piece of meat, just like I had back in Bethesda for more than two weeks. Slowly, I slid my legs over the side of the bed. They’d left me stark naked. I looked around for anything to put around me.
Detective Castanga said from behind me, “Ms. Scott is waking up. Oh, yes, I had my forensics folk check over her condo. They found a bottle of phenobarbital in the medicine cabinet of the second bathroom. It didn’t have many pills left in it. It was prescribed to a George Grafton, and expired at least a year ago.”
George Grafton had been her uncle George who’d left her the condo in his will. But how did it get in the coffee?
I said it aloud. “Laura isn’t stupid. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that someone else did it. And whoever did it meant for Laura to die, just like you said.”
I stood slowly as I spoke, bringing the sheet and thin hospital blanket with me and wrapping them around my waist.
“Was Ms. Scott expecting anyone else to come see her?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I’m going to speak to Laura Scott, Agent MacDougal, but first I want you to fill me in on everything so I don’t have to start all over.”
I told him everything I’d heard, everything I’d verified and realized that there was precious little. For an attempted murder investigation, the tangible, solid facts in my pocket were pitifully few. “Bottom line, the first crime I can point to for certain is what just happened.”
Detective Castanga jotted some notes and asked a few questions, but mainly he just listened to me. I could feel the weight of his attention. He was good. He was just putting his notebook into his pocket when 1 heard a sharp indrawn breath from the doorway.
I looked up to see Maggie Sheffield in her sheriff’s uniform. She wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at Detective Minton Castanga.
“Hello, Margaret,” Detective Castanga said, taking a step toward her. He stopped cold at the look of mean dislike on her face, obvious even to me. “I wondered if I’d see you here.”
“Of course I’m here,” Maggie said. “I’m the damned sheriff. Where else would I be? The question is, what are you doing here?”
“We found Laura Scott on the floor of her living room, doped with phenobarbital, just like Agent MacDougal here. You’re looking well, Margaret.”