“He was a good guy, a family man, who spoke highly of his wife and children. He owned a boat hire business, I think. He trained hard, regular as clockwork, Monday to Friday—and sometimes Saturdays, from seven to eight-thirty a.m. When we got the chance to work out together, he was a fantastic weight training partner.”
Parker smiled sadly. “I remember he joked to me that his family thought he went to work early every day. That was what he told them. But instead, he was at the gym.”
Chandra raised her eyebrows.
“And you’re calling her the liar?”
Parker scowled.
“She’s alive. He’s dead. I’m going to be as hard on her as I need to.”
Chandra took a frustrated breath, ready to argue back, but then her phone rang, and Parker marched away.
She could only hope that the questioning didn’t end up breaking this fragile, nervous young girl.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
When Cassie heard the tramp of feet heading toward her cell door, nervousness boiled inside her and it was all she could do to stay on her feet. She felt dizzy, disoriented, and incapable of stringing even the simplest of sentences together.
How was she going to stand up to their onslaught?
The two policemen looked grim, and Parker in particular seemed hostile. He didn’t even greet her, although Bruton offered her a brief “Good morning.”
At least they didn’t handcuff her this time, but as she walked alongside them she began to feel more lightheaded with every step.
The tiny interview room was warm and felt airless. She collapsed onto the steel chair, staring down at the table while the two officers sat across from her and switched on the recording equipment.
After stating her name and address again for the record, Parker got straight to the point.
“Tell us what happened last night. In detail, please. Leave nothing out. Give approximate times where you can.”
Cassie wanted to cry. Where was he going with this? Why did he keep on asking her the same thing? Was he trying to prove that she was in some way responsible for Ryan’s death? How could you be responsible for what another adult chose to do?
“I gave the children supper and put them to bed before eight thirty.”
Her voice sounded weak and toneless. Would she have thought herself to be a credible witness? She didn’t think so, and nor did they. She could see it in their faces.
“The Ellises arrived back at around ten. They were—well, Ryan seemed tipsy, and Trish quite drunk. Ryan put Trish to bed and then came back. I had a glass of wine outside with him and updated him on things. It didn’t take long. I was in bed before eleven. He stayed out on the balcony.”
“Then what happened?”
“Like I said, I woke from a bad dream. I noticed the porch light was still on. I went and found him.”
Had it been the dream that had drawn her outside into the rainy garden? After her confrontation with Ryan, she’d been in a stress meltdown and perhaps she had seen, or done, something she didn’t remember. That could be why the police thought she was guilty.
“Why do you keep asking me this? I didn’t know he’d stay outside drinking in the cold, or that he’d finish another bottle of wine. I didn’t even know people could die so easily from exposure. Why are you accusing me? I didn’t lock him outside or tie him to his chair! What did you want me to do?”
Her breath was coming faster and she could feel herself starting to sob.
The officers exchanged a glance which Cassie didn’t understand.
She thought that Parker looked temporarily confused, but Bruton continued impassively.
“Ryan Ellis’s body was taken straight for postmortem analysis and a series of tests. The results came back an hour ago and they are as we suspected. Mr. Ellis did not die from exposure, nor of any natural or preventable causes. He died because the wine he drank was laced with a large quantity of rat poison.”
His gaze drilled into her, and Cassie was without words as shock overwhelmed her.
Only now did she realize the full implications of his death.
Rat poison—the poison that she herself had bought, and then put away, because the traps were sold out.
Her mind was reeling.
Someone had poisoned Ryan. Poisoned him. How had it been done, and when?
What would it have taken to deliberately add some of that poison to a bottle of wine, knowing that he would drink it and then he would die?
Who could have callously done such a thing?
She remembered that red-stained vomit on the front of his shirt, and guessed that it must have been blood.
“I feel sick,” she said suddenly, and Parker leaped from his chair. He grabbed the bucket in the corner, shoving it toward her just in time.
Cassie retched into the gray plastic bucket, unable to erase the image of the bloody vomit from her mind.
Rat poison. Someone had poisoned him, and he’d died.
She’d felt fine after the wine she had drunk; she hadn’t even felt sick. Cassie guessed that made her look even guiltier.
“Can I have some water?” she asked. Her voice was wobbly and her mouth tasted terrible.
She rinsed it out with the lukewarm water they brought her, and spat it into the bucket, feeling humiliated and defenseless at having to do all of this under their unsympathetic gaze.
“You purchased the rat poison yourself, correct?”
No chance for her to recover. Cassie sensed this questioning would be relentless.
“Yes. I was supposed to get a mouse trap but there were none at the store, so the shopkeeper recommended it. Then Ryan said they didn’t use poison in the house. He asked to take it back and exchange it.”
“But you didn’t? Why?” Parker’s question sounded accusatory.
“My car broke down.”
“But you had use of another car, correct?”
“Only a few days later. By then I’d forgotten about the poison. I—I didn’t even think about exchanging it. I was supposed to call the store and ask them if they had the traps in stock.”
“By then you’d found
