Free Fall

was just warming up. ‘You will never, ever see your grandson again-your one and only grandson-not as long as you have that, that, creature living under your roof.’”

“She, of course, meant Christine?” says Ceepak, who is furiously taking notes.

“That’s right. Dr. Rosen says, ‘What would you have me do, Judith? Toss the poor girl out into the streets? She has nowhere else to go.’ Judy says, ‘Fine. You make your choices, choices have consequences.’ She was really slurring her words when she said that. ‘I am so effing pissed off at you right now, I’ll probably have a stroke. I’ll probably die before you do.’”

“How did Dr. Rosen react?”

“He never even raised his voice. He says, ‘Oh, I hope not, darling.’Judith just keeps on ranting at him. ‘My death will pre-decease yours,’ she says. ‘You have ruined my effing life.’ Judy likes to use the F-word a lot when she’s been drinking. ‘We’re done,’ she screams for the millionth time. Then she stomps toward the front door, shouting, ‘I hope you’re happy, Christine, wherever the hell you’re hiding! You ruined my sister’s life! You ruined mine. You’ll get yours!’”

“You heard all this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Christine?”

“She was locked in her room. But I’m sure she heard most of it. That Judy gets loud when she gets drunk.”

Monae shakes her head.

“I sure wouldn’t want to be her husband when he got home that night. Can you imagine what she said to him?”

46

We hurry back to Sea Haven in Ceepak’s hot wheels detective car because it’s time to sit down with Christine and her lawyer.

“Ceepak. Boyle.” This from the pit bull Harvey Nussbaum.

“Mr. Nussbaum,” says Ceepak, extending his hand.

I’m checking out Christine. Her eyes are bugging out of her head like a Muppet’s Ping-Pong eyeballs. She is, to quote Judith, effing pissed.

I remember something else Judith said: “Be careful. That girl has an extremely short fuse. It’s only a matter of time before she hurts somebody else.”

Is it true?

Or was Judith just saying that so we’d have our doubts about helping Christine, a woman whom Judith had vowed in her drunken rant would “get hers”?

“Couple things before we do the interview,” says Nussbaum, touching the nosepiece of his designer frame glasses with his finger. “One: You should know, Detective Ceepak, your mother is, once again, providing Ms. Lemonopolous with financial assistance. She is loaning her the money to pay my fees until Dr. Rosen’s estate cuts Christine that check for fifty thousand dollars.”

“Good to know.”

“Is this going to create a problem for us?”

“I don’t see how it can,” says Ceepak. “Ms. Lemonopolous is entitled to an attorney and, if past experience is any indication, you are an excellent choice for her legal representation. I am glad that my mother has chosen to spend her money to see that justice is administered fairly, without fear or favoritism.”

Nussbaum just sort of stares at Ceepak for a second or two.

“You were a Boy Scout, am I right?”

“Yes, sir. Eagle.”

“Whatever. Item two.” He reaches into the pocket of his creased Levi’s.

And pulls out the keys to my apartment. I recognize my Mr. Mets key fob.

Nussbaum hands me my keys.

“Ms. Lemonopolous will be temporarily residing at the Mussel Beach motel until this matter reaches a satisfactory conclusion.”

“Is my mother advancing money for the lodging as well?” asks Ceepak.

“You have a problem with that aspect of our arrangements?”

“No, sir. It’s all good.”

“Groovy. Okay, where’s the interrogation room?”

“Actually,” I say, “we call it the ‘interview’ room.”

Nussbaum shrugs. “Whatever, Boyle. And remember, I get paid by the hour.” He hooks a thumb in Ceepak’s direction. “You’re costing his mother money.”

I have to go first because I was the detective in charge of calling all those families Christine used to work for.

“In cases of poisoning, when the deceased is an elderly individual,” I say, trying to remember what Ceepak told me earlier in the day, “it is wise and prudent to look into the history of all the victim’s caregivers.”

I lean on the word all so Christine knows we’re checking out Monae and Joy Kochman, too.

Well, we will be.

Eventually.

“Unfortunately,” says Ceepak, who, you remember, will not lie or even fudge, “due to the time constraints of our investigation, so far we have only been able to reach out to the families of those you used to work for.”

“May we ask why?” says Nussbaum, who, I’m guessing, is going to be Christine’s mouthpiece today.

“Certainly,” says Ceepak. “Danny?”

I hate when he does that.

“Um, Joy Kochman, and a few other individuals, suggested that your former clients died under suspicious circumstances and that you were mentioned in each of the deceased person’s wills.”

“You have any proof for these fairy tales?” asks Nussbaum.

“No, sir.”

“Good. Get back to us when you do. Unless you want us to sue you boys, the SHPD, and all of Sea Haven Township for slander.”

I wonder if Mrs. Ceepak would pay for our lawyers, too.

“What else?” says Nussbaum.

“Well,” says Ceepak, “as we are still in the early stages of our investigation, we would appreciate any details Christine might give as to what life was like inside Dr. Rosen’s home. I’m particularly interested in your impressions of Michael, David, and Judith Rosen.”

“Why?” says Nussbaum. “Are they suspects?”

“If they are,” I say, so Ceepak doesn’t have to blurt out the truth again, “that would be a good thing for your client, no?”

Nussbaum squints at me. Considers what I just said.

“Okay, Christine. Tell ’em what you can.”

“Well,” she starts. “I guess you could say neither of his two sons really looked after Dr. Rosen all that much.”

“How so?” says Ceepak.

“He used to tell me stories. How, before he broke his hip, he lived in that big house all by himself. Michael was off in Hollywood and only came home to Sea Haven maybe once a year. David and Judith lived less than five miles away, but they hardly ever stopped by just to say hello. Dr. Rosen only saw them when they needed money.”

“How did that make him feel?” says Ceepak, sounding like this police psychiatrist they sent me to after I had