Dying to Have Her (22 page)

“Don’t even say that!”

“Can I have another?”

“Allona, let me find out first—”

“Fine. Keep your old candy,” Allona said. “This whole place is going nuts!”

She left, slamming the door.

G
EORGE
O
LSEN WAS UP
in Joe’s office, telling him they hadn’t gotten anywhere. The ladder had so many prints on it that there was no way to discover who had pushed it over.

Joe sat glumly in front of him. Jinx had just brought in a box filled with fan mail, most of it telling Serena how wonderful she was, a strong woman, and even if Verona Valentine wasn’t always entirely ethical, she did take responsibility for her own actions. Most wrote that she was a wonderful actress, that she entertained them tremendously, and that they got through mounds of housework, pet messes, laundry, baby care, and cooking—because of her.

Not all the mail, however, was positive. Of course they all knew that. Sometimes they would laugh over a fan taking the soap too seriously.

Some of it was mail telling Verona Valentine that she was a monster and that she needed to stay away from her sisters’ husbands and lovers. A few notes were worse, telling her that she should be shot, horsewhipped, and sunk to the bottom of the sea. Usually they found such passionate hatred, which was actually necessary to the longevity of a soap, to be amusing.

None of it was funny now.

Joe had told Jinx to make sure that he saw anything threatening before Serena did. There were a few letters that the police had seen and dismissed; letters that dealt with the nastiness of her character, warning that she had to be very careful because there was such a thing as karma and something terrible could happen to her, too.

One of them read, “Verona! You love Egypt so much, you should sink into the desert sand and mummify yourself!”

Joe had gotten a big kick out of that letter. He wondered if it might be used for a scene. Maybe a dream sequence, in which Verona imagined herself a queen of Egypt, falling in love with the wrong man and earning the vengeance of the pharaoh. She could wake up, smothering in the covers, and find herself saved by … oh, well, that one would have to be figured out. Verona Valentine wasn’t saving herself for anyone special.

“Mr. Penny,” Olsen said, “have you been listening to me?”

“Of course. I always listen to you, Lieutenant,” Joe said politely. “I just had a thought. A creative idea, you know.”

“I said, I would like to see Serena.”

“I’ll call her up.”

Joe buzzed through to Serena’s dressing room, telling her that Olsen was there, and would she mind terribly coming up?

A few minutes later, she walked in, followed by Liam Murphy.

“Serena, have a seat,” Olsen invited, nodding to Liam.

Serena sat across the desk from Joe. Liam Murphy remained standing, but he immediately said, “Serena received a box of candy this morning. It should be checked out.”

“Oh?” Olsen looked at Serena. She pursed her lips. “Miss McCormack? Do you know who sent you the candy?”

Serena hesitated, glancing at Liam. “I can’t be certain.”

“Who do you think sent it?”

“It’s the kind of candy my brother-in-law and sister send me on occasion.”

“But you’re not certain it’s from them?”

“I couldn’t get hold of the shop where they buy it, and no one answered their home phone.”

Olsen nodded and picked up a radio. “Hutchens, you there? Good. Go to Miss McCormack’s room and pick up the box of candy you’ll find there. Yeah, for testing.”

Liam was satisfied, but Serena was still nettled.

“Serena,” Olsen said. “Sorry about your candy, but we’re trying to be very careful here. Now, I understand a man gave you a rose at the cemetery, following Jane Dunne’s funeral. Then you found a rose in your dressing room? And you’re aware that Liam found another rose yesterday, in front of your house.”

“So he told me.”

“What do you think these roses mean?”

“I think they’re from a soap fan. I’ve gotten flowers before.”

“These flowers may be a warning. Jane Dunne died with a single rose in her hand. We tested one of the flowers sent to you, and nothing came up.”

“Well, that proves they’re just roses.”

“The one in front of your house didn’t bother you at all? Knowing someone was actually
in your yard
didn’t frighten you?”

She shot a long glance at Liam. “I have an alarm—and protection.”

Olsen sighed. “Miss McCormack, you have to be careful.”

“Lieutenant, I don’t think that I can be much more careful.”

“We’re trying to protect you, Miss McCormack. You can’t trust anyone.”

He was interrupted by the intercom on Joe’s desk as it buzzed loudly. Joe pressed the button. “We’re in a meeting here.”

“I know.” The voice that came over the intercom was Thorne McKay’s. “We’ve got a problem here, a serious one,” he said breathlessly.

“What’s happened?” Joe demanded with a frown.

“We’ve just called the paramedics. Jinx has been taken ill. The paramedics are on their way, ready to rush her to the hospital.”

The killer stood on the set.

So distant. Watching.

Jinx had come down here, trying to find help. She had stumbled in, nearly walked in circles, fallen, crying out for help.

Thorne was the one who discovered her. He screamed and fled the stage.

Serena stayed with Jinx, holding her hand, reassuring her. Poor little Jinx. A scared little rabbit. Thin as a rail. She was screaming with the pain that was wracking her.

“Appendicitis?” Serena suggested, so concerned, that perfect face knotted in worry.

“I don’t think so. It looks like … poisoning of some sort,” Liam Murphy told her.

“Poison!” Serena cried with alarm. And naturally, the cry became a murmur that spread about the cast and
c
rew gathered now at Jinx’s side. They could hear the ambulance’s siren.

“Food poisoning. Maybe she ate something that was really bad,” Liam said firmly.

“Jinx, just hold on, hold on. The ambulance is nearly here,” Serena told the girl.

Then the paramedics rushed in, and the others moved back, and Jinx’s vital signs were relayed to some great medical voice that came through the radios. An IV was begun, and she was carefully rolled onto a gurney. She was still holding Serena’s hand.

How touching.

How ironic.

Jinx was nearly to the elevators, stretched out on the gurney, pushing aside the oxygen they were trying to give her.

“It hurts,” she managed to whisper, through white, foaming lips. “It hurts, and I feel so weak … I’m sorry
…”

“Jinx, whatever are you sorry about? The ambulance is here, and we’ll get you well!” Jinx had her hand. She was jerked into movement; they rushed alongside the girl, ready to go to the hospital with her.

The chocolates, the chocolates, the killer thought.

“Ate
…”
Jinx began.

She didn’t finish. She had another spasm of pain.

Olsen reached them, and he looked grim.

“Jeffrey Guelph. Get the man and bring him downtown,” Olsen ordered. “Get an APB out on him now, just in case you can’t get him at his house.”

“Wait
—”
Serena cried.

The elevator door closed.

Ah, well …

It could have been Serena. And she could have eaten more than one chocolate; she loved the brand. Her family always sent her that particular chocolate. The killer had made a point of knowing that.

Jeffrey Guelph sat in the police station. He’d been picked up by two cop cars—one heading him off, one blocking his rear, their sirens blaring. He thought at first he’d been speeding, but then he’d realized that the way they’d hauled him in was overkill for speeding.

He hadn’t had a cigarette in ten years. When the uniformed cop who had brought him into the interrogation room offered him one, he took it. He coughed like a fifteen-year-old at the first drag. Opposite him was Bill Hutchens, who was looking at him with sympathy and trying to make things easier for him. Either that, or he was trying to disarm him, make him feel all comfortable so that he’d be willing to say more.

“Coffee is coming,” Bill told him.

“Great.”

“You could use some coffee, huh?”

“Yeah. Bill,” he said, then added pleadingly, “Why was I brought down here?”

Bill leaned forward on his elbows, watching him intently, frowning. “You really don’t know?”

Jeff felt a flicker of fear.
Just what did
they
know?

“I don’t know why, no.”

Bill sat back, sighing. “Jeff, the chocolates.”

“What chocolates?”

“The candy you sent Serena.”

“I didn’t send Serena any candy.”

Bill sighed deeply. “Oh, come on, Jeff. The candy, it’s the same candy you and Melinda send her all the time. The same brand. From the same store.”

Jeff shook his head, bewildered.

At that moment the door opened and George Olsen stepped in. He already knew Olsen; he’d been questioned by him the day Jane Dunne had died.

“Hello, Mr. Guelph.”

So polite. That was really scary. He crushed the cigarette out. He rubbed his forehead hard, wondering what Melinda was going to think. God, this was horrible. The humiliation.

Worse …
What if they did pin something on him?

“We need to hear about the chocolates,” Olsen told him.

Jeff sat back, bewildered. “I didn’t send Serena any chocolates, not lately,” he said.

Bill Hutchens rose, still looking at him sorrowfully. Olsen sat. “Jeff, you told Serena you were sending her something. She received a box of candy. Her favorite kind. The kind of chocolates you send her every so often on special occasions.”

Jeff stared at him blankly. “I told Serena I was sending her something. It was a necklace I had made for her. It had her name … in Egyptian hieroglyphics. The kind they sell at museums. I had sent to the Museum of Natural History for it, ordered it from the catalog. It was just something that we’d gotten to say thanks for having gotten me work on the show.”

“And you sent it today?”

“I was going to have a messenger service pick it up and bring it over, but I started reading a new journal … and I forgot,” Jeff said.

“But the chocolates did arrive.”

“I didn’t send them.”

Olsen tapped the table impatiently, as if this was wasting his time.

“Look,” Jeff said. “I know you guys can pull phone records. I’ll sign whatever you need to get my records right away—”

“We’ve already done that, Jeff,” Olsen said quietly.

“Then you know!”

“We know that you didn’t send the order in from your house.”

“I didn’t send the order in at all!” Jeff said, pleased at last and seeing a ray of freedom. “If you’ve checked, you know—”

“Oh, yeah. We checked. We checked everything, you see. The order came in from a pay phone at the convenience store near the studio.”

“So there you have it—”

Olsen interrupted him with a deep sigh. “Jeff, the order was called in from a pay phone, but …” He paused, shrugging, then leaning toward Jeff. “But the order was charged to your Visa card.”

It had been a long and truly terrible day. The only bright spot was because the paramedics had acted so quickly, Jinx’s stomach had been pumped out in time. She had ingested arsenic, as it turned out. That was what had caused such terrible pain.

Arsenic was not that difficult to obtain. It was an ingredient in many rat poisons.

After the first few hours they knew that Jinx was going to be okay. She would have to stay in the hospital for a night or two, but she would pull through fine. She still hadn’t spoken much; she’d been too out of it. The doctors had tried really hard to get her to tell them what she had eaten, but she hadn’t been able to answer. With or without her help, they would know soon, though.

They had taken all kinds of samples. The contents of her stomach had included an onion bagel, cream cheese, egg, chocolate, cherry, and the arsenic.

Serena stayed through the day in the hospital waiting room along with Joe Penny, Andy Larkin, Thorne McKay, and, of course, Liam. Olsen had remained at the hospital for a while, then a uniformed cop had replaced him, and a few hours later Bill Hutchens had replaced him. When he learned that Jinx wouldn’t be able to speak with the police for some time, Bill sat and quizzed Serena, asking her about the candy. She didn’t need to tell him too much; Liam was there, answering most of the questions with terse, concise statements. She had to explain that she had believed Jeff had sent the chocolates only because he had told her he was sending something.

“Do we know that the arsenic was in the chocolate?” she asked Bill.

“Looks that way,” he told her.

“What about the piece of chocolate Serena spat out?” Liam asked Bill.

“It’s being tested. You all right, Serena?”

“I’m fine. I hardly got the candy in my mouth before Liam took it away from me,” she assured them, but then she remembered that someone else had eaten a piece of chocolate. “Allona!” Serena cried. “Allona ate one of the chocolates.”

Allona was brought in during the early afternoon.

She came with a police escort, and was already greatly agitated when she reached the hospital. “I’m fine!” she insisted. “Not sick, not a cramp—nothing. They are not pumping my stomach. Dammit, Serena, why are you making me go through this?”

“Allona, Jinx could have died. You’re better safe than sorry.”

“Serena, I would know if I was sick,” Allona ranted.

“Please, Allona,” Doug said to her quietly.

She exhaled on a long sigh. “All right—fine!”

So Allona had her stomach pumped. There was no trace of arsenic found in the candy she had eaten. Even weak and sedated, Allona remained furious. “I told you I was fine,” she charged Serena when Serena tried to comfort her in outpatient recovery. “Look what you’ve done to me. Do you all think I’m an idiot, that I couldn’t tell if I had been
poisoned!”