“Yeah, I’m familiar with this phenomenon.”
“A few of ’em live close by, thank God. The rest had to bunk here for the night. They’re still here, Des. It’s like one giant slumber party out there. You’ve never heard so much giggling and screaming in your life.”
“I have, too, Rico. I started out life as a girl, remember?”
“I’m hiding here in my weight room and praying for a break in the weather.”
“How about Yolie?” Yolie being Sergeant Yolanda Snipes, his half-black, half-Cuban partner.
“She’s at her apartment in Meriden, chewing on her hands and feet. That girl hates being on the sideline. We’re both raring to go. Soon as the plow comes through, she’ll pick me up at the end of my block in her Blazer. Route nine is supposed to be okay. Way slow, but we’ll get there. I just can’t promise when. We may be talking two, three hours.”
“Rico, you may want to rethink this plan.”
“Why?”
“For starters, because you’ll end up flipped over in a ditch somewhere.”
“No way. Yolie’s a sweet wheelman.”
“And even if you do get here, the private drive up to the castle is blocked off. You’ll have to hike three miles up a mountain, climb your way over dozens of downed trees. You’re looking at another hour on foot, easy.”
“Well, hell, that’s no good,” he admitted. “Time out, are you thinking what I’m thinking? Of course you are- SP-One, right?”
“Any chance we rate a fly-in?”
“Are you kidding me? The state police spent millions on that damned chopper. They’ll be thrilled to have any excuse to use it. Only, it’s grounded in this weather.”
“True, but if the snow and wind taper off in the next hour or two, you’ll still get here faster and safer than you will by car. What is it, a twenty-minute flight from headquarters?”
“Give or take. Is there a place to land up there?”
“A great big beautiful parking lot.”
“Excellent. I am on this, Des. I’ll find out what they need in terms of weather. But you got to give me something else to do, because I am going crazy here. Is there anyone I can call?”
“There is, Rico. See if you can track down a New Haven cardiologist named Lavin, first name Mark. He was treating Norma Josephson. Find out how serious her heart condition was. And see what you can learn about this digoxin he had her taking. As in what would happen to her if her dosage were dramatically altered without her knowledge. Or with her knowledge, for that matter.”
“You saying suicide is a possibility?”
“Rico, it’s all in play right now.”
“You think the digoxin is what did her in?”
“Call it my best guess, until an autopsy proves otherwise. The only hitch is that her pill intake seems to be right on schedule.”
“Maybe someone got a hold of some extra pills. Where did she fill her prescription?”
“Locally, Dorset Pharmacy. It’s a one-man operation. Pharmacist’s name is Tom Maynard. I doubt he’ll be open, but you may be able to reach him by phone. If you do, find out if anything irregular has been going on lately with Norma’s prescriptions.”
“Des, you know we can’t access her medical records without a search warrant. And I can’t exactly get to no judge right now.”
“I hear you, but this is a small town, Rico. Everybody knows everybody. He might remember something and volunteer it. It’s worth a try.”
“Consider it done. And I’ll call Connecticut Light and Power’s war room. Let ’em know you have a police emergency up there. Maybe we can get you bumped up to a higher priority. I’ll call you back in a few. Hey, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“About what, Rico?”
“Having the situation under control.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You said it yourself-you started out life as a girl. Girls consider it a sign of weakness to ask anyone for help. Guys, we don’t have that problem. We need a hand, we say so right up front, on account of how we’re more secure about ourselves.”
“Wait, could you talk just a little bit slower? I want to make sure I write all of this down.”
“Go ahead and laugh. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Rico, I’m fine.”
She flicked off her phone and went back out into the hall, where Mitch glanced up at her alertly from his post. “All quiet?” she asked him.
“It’s so quiet I can hear the mice in the walls,” he replied, beaming at her.
“Gee, thanks large for sharing that with me, baby.”
“I share. That’s what I do.”
Hannah was in room four, next door to Teddy. She’d double-locked her door from the inside. Des had to wait for her to get up and let her in. After she had, Hannah burrowed back under the quilt on her bed, looking pale, cold and frightened. The large-format paperback she was clutching, Hollywood Dreams, was a collection of Ada Geiger’s screenplays, with an introduction by one Mitchell Berger.
“I’m still trying to figure that old woman out,” Hannah confessed, gazing down at it through her round glasses. “There was just such a difference between her work and her. I mean, her movies were so forgiving of human weakness. And Ada herself was just so not?
“She was young when she made those movies. Not much older than you and I are now.”
“True,” Hannah acknowledged. “But she just seemed so intolerant.”
“She was ninety-four. Her time was running short, and she didn’t want to waste any of it on people who weren’t worth the bother. Older people get impatient that way. I’ve encountered it before.” Des sat in the chair by the fireplace, stuffing her hands deep into her coat pockets. “Did you leave this room for any reason last night?”
“Are you kidding me? It was pitch-black, freezing cold. I didn’t so much as leave this bed. Why would I?”
“You tell me,” Des said, raising her chin at her.
Hannah reddened. “Oh, I see. You’re wondering about Aaron and me, aren’t you?”
Des didn’t answer, just gazed at her intently.
Hannah let her breath out slowly and said, “He told me that Carly is a very light sleeper, so I should just forget about us being together while we’re here. Which I am fine with. It would be totally disgusting for us to be doing anything with her right across the hall, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know. My field is the law, not personal virtue.”
“Pretty much one and the same thing, aren’t they?”
“So you were alone all night?”
“Unless Danielle counts as company,” she replied, tugging a tattered Danielle Steele paperback romance novel out from under her quilt. “She’s gotten me through many a cold, lonely night. You’re probably surprised that I read her. I could tell you that it’s some kind of kitschy, ironic thing on my part, but it’s not. I just love her books. They’re so visual. I’d give anything to film one someday.”
“So why don’t you?”
Hannah stared at her. “Do you have any idea how much money that would cost? The rights alone would be huge. No one’s going to give me a project like that to direct.”
Then again, Des reflected, it might be another matter entirely if the young director were able to raise a lot of that money herself. Which she could do if she had herself a patron like Aaron Ackerman on the hook, a man who it so happened was just about to get way rich. Just exactly how ambitious was Hannah Lane? How hungry to succeed? She had no problem getting freaky for Aaron. Would she have any problem killing for him? “Hannah, did you hear anyone coming or going out in the hall last night?”
“I was asleep.”
“You didn’t hear any doors open or close?”
“I was asleep.” A defensive edge crept into her voice. “I just told you.
