The Double Cross (27 page)

We couldn’t spend the whole lunch hour in my room. It would look too odd. Besides, I was hungry. Susanne went down first, Jesse followed, then Eleanor, and finally me. As I passed the dining room, I saw Rita still sitting there but Joi wasn’t around.

“Are you okay?”

Rita looked up. She seemed tired. “Fine,” she said. “They’re making lunch. Joi is getting me something. She insists that I eat.”

I sat next to her. I wanted to ask her about the day of the murder without seeming to ask her about it. I wasn’t thrilled with myself that I was thinking of the investigation when Rita seemed so alone, but I had to think of Bernie.

“You were so in love,” I started, as gently as I could. “It must have been a terrible shock.”

“It wasn’t the way I thought things would turn out.”

“Did you get the news from McIntyre?”

She hesitated but then nodded. “I was upstairs, resting. George was so helpful to me. He adored me.”

I took a deep breath but plunged in anyway. “I happened to be looking in the window that morning and it seemed as if you were having a fight.”

Nothing. Not a smile, not an angry look. She just stared ahead. “We weren’t,” she said firmly.

Just as she finished speaking, Joi walked into the room with a plate of food. “There are cold cuts in the kitchen if you’re hungry, Nell,” she said, an unmistakable look of suspicion in her eyes.

“I was just keeping your mom company,” I offered.

Surprisingly Rita looked up at her daughter and nodded. “It’s amazing to see how many people are worried about me.”

Once in the kitchen, I grabbed a sandwich and Jesse. “I really think we should go check on Bernie. He’s had her all morning.”

“We can ask, but he’s probably not going to tell us anything.”

“But we can ask,” I said insistently.

“Not every cop is as weak willed as I am, giving you information every time you bat your eyelashes.”

I batted my eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “He’ll probably show you everything he has in the case file.”

CHAPTER 41

Jesse was right. McIntyre wouldn’t let us see Bernie. He did tell us that Maria had brought bread and chicken salad over from the bakery, as well as two large double-chocolate brownies, so even though she was being held, Bernie was well fed. That was beside the point, I told myself. I wanted my friend to be released.

“We got the autopsy reports on George and the dog,” McIntyre added, I think to distract me from my insistence on seeing Bernie.

“You did an autopsy on the dog?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly.

“We’re not so interested in what caused the dog’s death,” McIntyre smiled, “but whether there is evidence in him that might aid the investigation into George Olnhausen’s death.”

“What did you find?” Jesse asked.

“What we assumed. George was shot right through the heart with a hunting rifle. Probably died instantly.”

“And the dog?”

“Pretty much the same thing with the dog. I mean, not through the heart but dead-on.”

“With George, how far away was the gun?”

“The medical examiner said it was intermediate range, on account of the powder stippling on the skin.”

“Which means?” I asked.

“The gun wasn’t up against George, but it was less than a yard or two away,” Jesse said. “It left abrasions caused by unburned grains of powder hitting the skin.”

“No way any of it could be an accident?” I asked.

“None. Standing that close, you know what you’re aiming at.”

“And the bullets?” Jesse asked. “Were they the same for George and the dog?”

McIntyre nodded. “A match. The gun that killed the dog was used to kill George.”

Jesse looked over to me. “Nell figured as much,” he said.

“Then why are you holding Bernie?” I asked. “That dog was dead before we got here. You can’t possibly be thinking Bernie had motive to kill it.”

“Doesn’t mean that she didn’t use the same gun,” McIntyre said. Then he held up his hand as I opened my mouth. “I know what you’re going to say—that it’s a bit far-fetched. And maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But I am going to investigate this my way.”

“Meanwhile the real killer is wandering through your town,” I pointed out.

I could see Jesse shaking his head at me but I didn’t pay attention. If cops don’t want their mistakes pointed out to them, then they shouldn’t make them in front of me. McIntyre didn’t take offense. He just smiled. He was in the driver’s seat and I was only an annoying backseat driver.

“By the way,” McIntyre said, “we got the result for your lemonade. A mild liquid sedative, that’s all. Nothing that could have done you any harm.”

“Just put me to sleep.”

“It can’t have anything to do with the case,” he added, “because . . .” Then he closed his mouth and turned toward the holding cell.

“Because Bernie didn’t do it?” I asked. “You can’t dismiss something like that so easily.”

“She’s right, Chief. If that’s all you have . . . ,” Jesse started; then he paused and I could see his expression grow serious. “Unless your witness told you something.”

“I’ll drive Mrs. Avallone back to the inn when she and I are done talking. Won’t be long now.” He paused and looked at us. “I do appreciate the advice though. It’s nice when we’re all working together.”

It seemed we were pretty much at an impasse, but I was heartened to know that the killer had used the same gun for the dog. It had to be someone from the area, and if the gun was the one that had been above the mantle at the Patchwork Bed-and-Breakfast, it had to be someone with access to the house in the last few days. That removed any possibility of a stranger and meant that, in all likelihood, our killer was back at the inn making a memorial quilt.

“If someone is saying that they saw Bernie kill George, then that person is lying,” I said to Jesse as we walked out of the police station. “And if we get the name of that person, then we have our killer.”

“Assuming that’s what the witness is saying. Maybe they saw Bernie with George earlier or saw her walking from the woods with blood on her blouse. There’s something nagging at McIntyre or else he would have let Bernie go.”

“But if Bernie told him the truth—” I stopped.

Jesse was about to open the car door but looked up at me instead. “You don’t think Bernie is telling him the truth.”

“Shh.”

“Why?”

“Shh,” I said again. This time I said it louder, which made the whole point of shushing him seem kind of silly.

“Nell.” Jesse tried, and failed, to get my attention. It was elsewhere.

I watched as a familiar figure walked across the street and in the direction of the office building Rita had visited just two days before. When I was sure it wouldn’t look too conspicuous, I grabbed Jesse’s hand and pulled him toward the building.

“What are we doing?” Jesse whispered to me.

“Following that man,” I said. “That’s the man I saw with Rita when I drove her to town.”

He entered the office building, and so did we, about ten feet behind him. The elevator doors were about to close, but the man saw us and pressed the Open button. We jumped in and stood there, not sure what to do next.

“What floor?” he asked.

I saw that the button for the sixth floor was lit so I said, “Six.”

“I guess we’re all going there.” He smiled the bland smile strangers give each other in polite but disinterested acknowledgement. He was a nice-looking man, well dressed and neat. He looked like he took good care of himself. I could see Rita being attracted to him, if indeed she was. For all I knew, he could be her bookie.

When he saw me glancing at him, he nodded. I nodded. Jesse nodded. Then we waited. It seemed to take an inordinately long time to reach the sixth floor, but when we did, I still hadn’t come up with a plan. The man gestured to let us off first, an unfortunate situation since it meant we would have to find somewhere to go. Thankfully, Jesse’s shoelace had become untied, so he stopped just outside the elevator to tie it. The man walked down the hall and into the last office on the left.

“Did you see which office he went into?” Jesse asked me when he was done with his shoe.

Then it hit me. “You did that on purpose. You stepped on your lace and untied it.” I looked down at his gym shoes.

He smiled, clearly enjoying how impressed I was. “Let’s find out who he is.”

CHAPTER 42

We walked quickly toward the last office on the left. It had a light wood door with JASON NOREIKA, MD, stenciled on it.

“We can go to the library and look him up on the Internet, find out more about him,” Jesse suggested.

“Or we just go in and ask. That way we can find out how he knows Rita.”

“We have no jurisdiction. We can’t just ask for a list of the man’s patients, or his lovers.”

“Why not?”

I opened the door and walked into a small, neatly decorated office with about a half dozen padded chairs in its waiting room, a few generic paintings of flowers on the walls, and a small nurse’s station up front. Jesse was two steps behind me but was clearly letting me take the lead.

“Can I help you?” the nurse asked.

I looked around for something that might be helpful. Nothing.

“I’m here to see Dr. Noreika. I understand he’s a wonderful dentist.” I took a stab at it but figured I was wrong.

“Are you sure you’re in the right office?”

“Dr. Noreika. Jason Noreika. This is his office?”

“He’s not a dentist. He’s a cardiologist,” she said.

“Oh.” I turned to Jesse. “Honey, I must have written the wrong name down.”

“You must have,” he said, an amused expression crossing his face.

I turned back to the nurse. “Rita Olnhausen recommended him.”

“Mrs. Olnhausen? She told you he was a dentist?”

“Maybe I confused her dentist with her cardiologist. She is Dr. Noreika’s patient, right?’

“We don’t give out that information.”

“Of course not. She did say his staff was very discreet. In fact, she’s had nothing but the nicest things to say about all of you. You’re Karen,” I said, reading it off her name tag. “She told me you’ve been so kind.”

I was running out of things to say so I paused, hoping the nurse would jump in. Thankfully, she did.

She smiled. “That’s nice to hear. I try to give our patients the best care possible. Especially patients like Mrs. Olnhausen.”

I leaned in. “Especially now,” I said in a dramatic whisper.

The nurse gave me a knowing smile. “It’s just so sad. Her husband passing like that. So . . .” I watched her struggling for the right word until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Suddenly,” I said to finish her thought.

She nodded. “They were so in love. Please make sure she’s taking care of herself. She’s so delicate, poor thing.”

The door to the office opened and a heavyset man walked in. “Mr. Walker,” the nurse said, “the doctor will be with you in a minute.”

It was our cue to leave. We hadn’t solved the murder, but I felt that at least one mystery was unraveling. And maybe that would lead to the rest.