Judith recoils from her husband’s touch. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, David.”
“I’m just saying …”
“I heard what you said. You said ‘calm down.’”
“Officers?” says Michael. “Do you really suspect that someone in this room murdered my father?”
“It’s a possibility,” says Ceepak.
“How can you think such a thing?” This from David.
“We have our reasons.”
“Well, what are they?” demands Judith.
And since Ceepak won’t tell a lie, he goes ahead and tells the truth: “The night before his murder, your father spoke with Rabbi Bronstein. Told the rabbi he was quote surrounded by assassins end quote. We suspect he meant all of you and, perhaps, his home health aides.”
The Rosens shut up and sip their drinks. Silently.
Finally, Michael pipes up. “I’m due back in L.A. on Wednesday. But I could book a different flight. There are some things I need to take care of here in New Jersey.”
“What sort of things?” says Judith.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would,” says David.
“Production issues,” says Michael, kind of coyly. “The same production issues I told you about last night, David.”
David narrows his eyes. Michael narrows his. The two brothers look like they could launch into some serious neck-throttling at any second.
“Rest assured,” says Ceepak, “we will do everything in our power to bring this matter to an expeditious resolution.”
“Besides, Michael,” says Judith, with a smirk, “you might want to be here after Dad’s will goes through probate.”
Michael flutters his eyes. “Why?”
“To collect your inheritance.”
“Ha!” is all Michael has to say about that.
“Be advised,” says Ceepak, “probate can be a long, tedious process.”
David shakes his head. “Steven Robins over at Bernhardt, Hutchens, and Catherman has already paid the filing fee and given the Surrogate Court a death certificate and a copy of the will.”
“Who, pray tell, is this Steven Robins?” says Michael.
“Dad’s lawyer,” says Judith. “You’d know that if you lived here.”
“Oh, I’d know so much more than that if I lived here,” says Michael.
“Steven Robins is also executor of Dad’s will,” adds David. “He’s calling in a couple favors. Working the weekend. Pushing us to the head of the line. Says it’s a very simple estate so we should be good to go tomorrow or Tuesday at the latest.”
“Would this be the will he recently altered?” says Michael.
“I guess.”
“Did he give you two and Little Arnie even more goodies?”
“We don’t know,” says Judith.
“You haven’t seen these alterations?”
“Of course not. That’s a private matter between Dad and his lawyer.”
Michael sneers at that. “Yeah. Right.”
Ceepak clears his throat. “We need to conduct a few more interviews …”
“Why don’t you just go arrest the homicidal nurse and save us all a lot of time and aggravation?” asks Judith. “I’m sure Mrs. Crabtree’s family would be happy to see Christine pay for what she did to their mother, too!”
“Trust me, Mrs. Rosen,” says Ceepak. “If the evidence indicates that Christine Lemonopolous is the culprit, in this or any other murder, we will, indeed, arrest her and hold her for trial.”
“Good!” shouts Judith. “Good riddance to bad rubbish!”
David is about to pat her on the knee again and tell her to calm down. But he remembers he’s not supposed to do that, not if he wants to keep on living. So, instead, he fidgets with his Bart Simpson wristwatch.
“Danny?” Ceepak nudges his head toward the door.
Hallelujah.
We’re done sitting shiva.
39
We climb into Ceepak’s shiny hot wheels detective car and head south.
I use my cell to contact Christine.
“We need to talk to you,” I say in my most official junior detective voice.
“No problem,” she says. “You guys want coffee or something?”
“Sure. Do I have any?”
Christine laughs. “No. But I’ll go grab a couple cups at the Quick Pick Mini Mart.”
Come to think of it, that’s what I do every morning, too.
When I end my Christine call, Ceepak asks me to contact Chief Rossi. That means I get to try out the high- tech radio stashed under a sliding cover in the center console below a compact General Dynamics computer.
The Chief and Ceepak discuss putting “light surveillance” on our five suspects: Christine Lemonopolous, Monae Dunn, Michael Rosen (currently residing at the Sea Spray Motel), and David and Judith Rosen.
“We may also need to keep tabs on a Joy Kochman, a home health aide whose job at Arnold Rosen’s home was terminated. Her whereabouts, at this juncture, are unknown.”
Oh, yeah. Ceepak is good.
Joy Kochman, the nurse David and Judith fired so they could plant their spy, Christine, in Dr. Rosen’s house could be a disgruntled former employee, the kind that’s always taking a loaded pistol back to their former workplace and wreaking revenge. Maybe Joy took a pill instead.
Ceepak parks next to Christine’s VW Beetle in the Sea Village parking lot.
This is so weird.
We are going to interview Christine Lemonopolous in
“Come on in, guys!”
Christine gives us our coffees, then perches on the edge of my bed. Ceepak takes my one Salvation Army chair. It cost me five dollars. The seat cushion was ripped. In two places.
I sit on the arm of my TV chair. It’s a recliner. That rocks. I try to maintain my balance and a little detective-esque dignity.
Ceepak drops the first bombshell.
“We now know that Dr. Rosen was poisoned and that, in all likelihood, you were the one who gave Dr. Rosen the pill containing cyanide that killed him.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she mutters.
I’m studying Christine’s face and hands. Looking for any ticks or tells. Some kind of body language that suggests maybe she’s faking her reaction.
I get nothing except shock.
“However,” Ceepak continues, “the fact that you are the one who put the tainted pill into Dr. Rosen’s hand doesn’t mean …”
“A paper cup.”
“Excuse me?”
“We always took Dr. Rosen’s pills out of the appropriate compartment and placed them into a small paper
