had put behind Andrea’s head, remained in place.
The only difference was that Nadia Weiss was lying on
the spare bed, and she was obviously quite dead.
SIXTEEN
“THIS…CAN’T…BE…happening,” Judith gasped.
Renie was stunned. She neither spoke nor moved, but
simply stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Nadia with
unblinking eyes.
“Coz…” Judith began, but also found herself at a loss for
words.
Nadia Weiss lay on her side, the right arm extended, the
left curled around her stomach. Her face was contorted and
her stockinged feet dangled over the edge of the bed. She
was fully clothed, though her large-rimmed glasses lay carefully folded on the nightstand.
Judith knew it was useless, but she finally moved closer
and tried to take Nadia’s pulse. “She’s still warm.” Judith let
Nadia’s right arm fall away.
“Of course she’s still warm,” Renie murmured. “We saw
her downstairs not more than an hour ago.”
Judith gazed at the spectacles, then noticed the glass and
the pill bottle. “Good grief! It’s the old sleeping pill trick,
just like Andrea. Or almost,” she added on a more thoughtful
note. “Look, coz.”
Edging closer, Renie’s foot struck something under the
bed. “Hold it—what’s this?” With her toe, she nudged the
obstacle into plain view.
It was an empty pint of gin. “An added attraction?” Judith
remarked, then turned her attention back to the pill bottle.
“Triclos. ‘Take one capsule before bedtime. Do not mix with
alcohol.’ The prescription is dated last week and made out
by a Dr. Robert Winslow for Nadia Weiss. The pharmacy
is located above downtown, in the hospital district.”
Renie nodded. “Nadia mentioned having her own sleeping
pills, and she told me once that she’s lived forever in one of
those elegant older apartments within walking distance of
downtown. But this time the killer was more thorough.”
Renie pointed to the empty water glass, then to the gin bottle.
“Maybe the stuff’s more lethal if you mix it with booze. The
killer might have known that and added the gin for effect.”
“Maybe.” Judith seemed distracted as she gestured at the
fireplace. “Why light a fire? No one’s staying in this room.”
Renie turned. “That
though. It’s practically out.”
Rushing to the hearth, Judith all but shoved Renie out of
the way. “Look! There’s no sign of a log in the grate. Kindling, maybe—and paper.” She gazed at Renie, who had joined
her in front of the fireplace. “What do you think got burned
in here? Andrea’s files?”
