“Why do you think it’s the mother and not just an accident?”
Zachary sighed and shook his head. He was starting to get warm inside at last. He wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug while he tried to explain it to Kenzie.
“First, because of the cough medicine.”
“So he had cough medicine in his system. That’s not suspicious.”
“It’s suspicious when they all say they wouldn’t give him cough medicine. If one of them volunteered and said, ‘yes, he was developing a cough, so I gave him some medicine,’ then I would be happy with that. No big deal. When the mother says that they absolutely would not give him cough medicine because it knocks him out… that’s a different story.”
“Tell me more about why she wouldn’t give it to him.”
“She gave him a children’s cold tablet once a couple of years ago. It knocked him out and scared her so much that she’s never given him any cold medicine since.”
“That’s sort of an extreme reaction, isn’t it?” Kenzie suggested. She flaked a little fish into her fork and took a dainty bite. “Why wouldn’t she just go with a half dose the next time?”
“Because Isabella is all about extreme reactions. She gets stuck and does things that don’t make logical sense. Like putting out fresh food for the missing cat every day for eight years. Like refusing to eat off a plate in her own home, because Spencer threw out her favorite. Like not painting the color blue since Declan’s death. That’s what she’s like.”
“A little like someone I know who can’t listen to Christmas songs and insists on GPS tracking anyone he gets close to.”
Zachary scowled, staring down at his plate. He started on a small slice of pepperoni pizza.
“Regardless. Declan reacted to cold medicine, so she was afraid of ever giving it to him again.”
“So maybe Spencer gave it to him.”
“Spencer obeys his wife’s rules. They both have rules to keep the house running. He’s learned from the past what happens when he’s up against one of her compulsions.”
“So, he does it secretly. He doesn’t tell her.”
Zachary thought about it and shook his head. “He knew how Declan reacted the last time. He wouldn’t risk doing it again.”
“Like I say, he gives Declan a half dose. The kid is much older now. A half dose would probably be just enough to keep the cold symptoms at bay without knocking him out.”
“But then why deny it? Why not just say that he was the one who gave Declan the medicine when I asked him?”
“Because it would get back to his wife. He’s keeping it a secret from her at all costs. Because… he doesn’t want her to blame him for Declan’s death.”
“It had to be Isabella,” Zachary said stubbornly. It was the only answer that made sense.
“I’m not convinced,” Kenzie said. “I think the father could have given it to him, but kept it a secret so they wouldn’t get blamed. Or Declan might have drunk out of the dosing cup after someone else took some without anyone realizing.”
“At least you’re not saying it was a stranger who took him from the yard and gave it to him.” Zachary was aware that his tone was sullen. He grimaced at his own reaction. Kenzie was helping him out; he shouldn’t do anything to alienate her.
“It’s still another possibility,” Kenzie said. “You said yourself lots of parents do it to put their children to sleep or make them more compliant. It’s a well-known strategy. There’s nothing to say a stranger didn’t lure him out of the yard with a popsicle laced with cough medicine.”
“The most likely suspect is still the mother.”
“Maybe. That’s only speculation. You have no evidence.”
“I don’t need evidence. They’re not going to reopen the case. All I’m doing is making a final report of my findings to the family in a case that is never going to be re-investigated.”
“You said she has motive.”
“Yes.”
“What’s her motive?”
“Declan was a pain in the neck. Motherhood is difficult, and she didn’t want to do it anymore. She wanted him out of the way.”
“That’s pretty harsh.”
“Not all women are cut out to be mothers.” He thought of his mother, of her decision to break up their family and not be a mother anymore. “It didn’t fit with her lifestyle. With her mental illness. She just wanted to paint. Not to have to take care of a mewling brat while she was trying to work from home.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No. It was pretty obvious that she didn’t give Declan much attention. Even if you believe her story, she lost track of him for an hour or more. Not just two minutes. She wasn’t painting facing the window so that she could watch him. She was painting with her back to the window so that she would have to turn all the way around to see him.”
“That still qualifies as an accident, not murder.”
“If you believe her story. And I don’t.”
“Did she tell you that she didn’t want to be a mother? That she didn’t like watching him? That she was glad he was out of the way? Exactly what did she say?”
“Spencer did things with Declan. Read to him, made his meals, played with him. Everything he said indicates he was engaged with Declan. Isabella is the opposite. She put him down for a nap. She sent him out to play while she painted. She was detached. Disengaged.”
“They had different approaches to parenting. If she didn’t say he was a bother or a distraction…”
“Isabella is OCD. She likes everything done a certain way. A child would just mess everything up.”
“Didn’t you tell me she’s the hoarder? She’s the one with the messy studio, and it’s the dad who’s the neat freak?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would she be upset by a child messing things up? She’s the one who likes a mess.”
Zachary frowned. He switched mid-meal to chocolate pudding. One of the things he loved about buffets was it was not
