Okay, she was wrong. He did know who she was. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She pulled another chair closer to his.
Harry placed the book on the table where he’d been playing checkers a few days earlier. “What have you been up to lately?”
He might know who she was, but Zoe couldn’t be certain how much he remembered. “Pete and I are getting married.”
Harry clapped his hands in delight. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in ages. My boy finally wised up, ay?”
She nodded, not mentioning the proposal had happened six months ago.
“When’s the wedding?”
“This Saturday.”
He clapped again. “Wonderful. I never was fond of those long engagements.”
“I was hoping you might consider giving away the bride.”
Harry swiped a grizzled hand across his mouth. His pale blue eyes—a match to his son’s—gleamed. When he lowered his hand, he was smiling. “My dear, I would be honored.”
A lump of happy tears rose into Zoe’s throat. She half stood, leaning over to give him a hug. “Thank you.”
As Zoe sat back down, Harry’s gaze shifted over her shoulder, and he waved. “Hey, Sunshine,” he called.
Zoe turned to see Jenna with an armload of towels. She headed their way.
“Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“My future daughter-in-law just asked me to give her away to my son at their wedding,” Harry said, squeezing Zoe’s hand.
“That’s awesome,” Jenna replied with a weak smile.
“Would you be a dear and fetch us a couple of celebratory milkshakes?” he asked.
“I can go get them,” Zoe protested. “Jenna’s busy.”
“It’s no trouble.” Jenna shifted the load of towels in her arms. “I can drop these off in Miss Lila’s room on the way. I’ll be right back.”
Zoe excused herself from Harry, rose, and jogged after the young woman. “Jenna,” she called.
She turned.
“Are you okay?”
Jenna gave her the same weak smile. “The baby was fussy and kept me up all last night. I’m tired is all.”
“Let me go get those milkshakes.”
“Don’t be silly. It’ll give me an excuse to drop these towels off and go. Otherwise, I’ll have to look at Miss Lila’s family photo album for the gazillionth time.”
“I did not kill my husband. I loved him.”
But there was no warmth, no heartache in Loretta’s voice.
“I understand you vehemently objected to his autopsy” Pete said. “Why?”
Loretta folded her hands on the table. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘vehemently.’ But yes, I objected. I didn’t see the need for desecrating his body. It was obvious that he died of kidney failure.”
“Or you feared the autopsy would show that his death was hastened along.”
The flush in Downey’s cheeks had deepened to crimson. “This interview is over. You have no grounds to hold my client.”
Pete ignored the attorney. “You were at the hospital with your husband Wednesday morning before he died.”
“I’m his wife. Of course, I was at his bedside.”
“You gave him insulin.”
“Frank was a grown man. He was perfectly capable of giving himself his shots.”
“I’m not talking about his shots. I’m talking about a dose of your drug company’s new oral insulin. A dose he wasn’t aware of.”
“What are you talking about?” Loretta asked.
The attorney slapped the table. “What part of no more questions don’t you understand, Chief Adams?”
Baronick came forward in his chair. “I haven’t heard the chief ask a question. Your client, on the other hand, just asked for clarification.”
Downey glared at Loretta. “You’re paying me for my legal expertise. I’m telling you don’t say another word.”
Loretta, however, held Pete’s gaze. “I want to know what he’s getting at.”
He restrained a triumphant smile. “Someone slipped insulin into your husband’s food or drink. You were there that morning. You work for the pharmaceutical company that’s doing test studies on this new oral version of the drug. And you stood to inherit your husband’s entire estate. Provided he died before anyone located the new will.”
Baronick counted off on his fingers. “Means. Motive. Opportunity.”
Loretta’s face whitened.
“Mrs. Marshall, I must insist,” Downey said through clenched teeth. “Do not say another word.”
“No.” Loretta’s voice had dropped to a raspy whisper. “I admit I was there with Frank that morning. But I did not give him anything to eat or drink. And I most definitely did not give him insulin, orally or by injection. You’re saying that’s what caused his heart attack?”
The woman was a damned good actress. Pete wasn’t going to respond to her question.
But Baronick did. “That’s exactly what we’re saying.”
She leaned back in the chair, resting the tips of her long fingers on her upper lip. Her focus shifted from Pete to a spot on the table in front of her. Perhaps thinking up her next lie.
Except he had the feeling he was getting a glimpse behind the mask. For the first time since he’d met her, he caught a hint of vulnerability.
The attorney put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Loretta.” Her insistent tone drew their suspect’s attention. “Let’s go.”
But Loretta shook her head. “If someone killed Frank, I want them caught.” She locked eyes with Pete. “While I was there in his room that morning, a nurse’s aide came in with a soft drink. A can of diet soda. I’d never seen her before and thought it odd. He hadn’t asked for a beverage. And it seemed too early. Too soon after breakfast.”
Pete exchanged a glance with Baronick. The story could be a diversion. Loretta Marshall wouldn’t be the first suspect who’d tried to send him on a wild goose chase in an effort to deflect the blame. It shouldn’t be too hard to check with the hospital about their staff. “Did you catch the aide’s name?”
“She wasn’t wearing a name tag. And like I said, I’d never seen her there before. She wasn’t the same one who’d been in the room earlier.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Short. Blonde. Cute.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down a lot.” Although it struck Pete that she’d described the polar opposite of herself.
“I don’t know if this helps,” Loretta said, “but she mentioned needing the diet soda herself,
