Free Fall (21 page)

Ceepak leans in. “What do you mean?”

“His daughter-in-law. Judy. She was all kinds of mean and nasty to that old man, even after he gave her and her husband everything. Liposuction. Tummy tucks.”

“For David?” I say.

“Nuh-unh. David got guitar lessons. Can you believe that? He's fifty-six years old and still thinks he's going to be a rock star. Dr. Rosen kept giving him hundreds and hundreds of dollars so David could learn how to play ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads' out of tune.”

“You say Judith was ‘mean and nasty' to him?” says Ceepak.

“Not in front of people like you or, you know, rich people. When she's with folks like that, Judy acts all nicey-nicey. But when there's nobody around for her to impress? Well, I heard all the horrible things she said to Dr. Rosen, especially when she'd been drinking.”

“How do you mean?”

“I worked nights, Detective Ceepak. Evil people like Judith Rosen, night is when their darkest demons come out—especially if they've had a couple glasses of that Pinot Grigio.”

“She said these ‘horrible' things, even though you were there to witness the conversations?”

“Uhm-hmm. You ever see that movie
The Help?
”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, Judy and her big tuckus would fit right in down there in Mississippi; playing bridge and nibbling egg salad sandwiches with all those rich white ladies. A person like Judy, she sees a black woman in a uniform, she thinks we're invisible.”

“So what exactly did you hear?”

“Things no civilized person should ever say, especially not to a ninety-four-year-old man lying in his sick bed. She'd come by the beach house nine or ten o'clock at night, before her husband came home from his office …”

Ceepak looks surprised. “David Rosen typically worked past ten o'clock at night? At Sinclair Enterprises?”

Monae shoots Ceepak a knowing look. “Um-hmm. Would you hurry home to a nasty piece of work like that?”

“What'd she say?” I ask, so Ceepak doesn't have to field the “nasty piece of work” question.

“‘Why don't you do us all a favor and die?'”

“Judith said that?” says Ceepak. “To Dr. Rosen?”

“Several times. Then, after you people helped Christine beat that restraining order, embarrassed her sister in court? Man, oh, man. Judith tore into poor old Arnie that night something fierce. Wish I'd recorded it. Maybe you two could've arrested her for elder abuse.”

“What happened?”

“She came over to Dr. Rosen's house, her breath stinking like she'd been gargling with her Pinot Grigio. I'm right there. Kind of hanging back in the shadows. I was so afraid of what that crazy woman might do, I started wondering what I could grab—a vase or a statue or a fireplace tool. Something to knock her silly if she tried to strangle Dr. Rosen right there in his hospital bed.”

“And what did Judith say?” asks Ceepak.

“‘How dare you let that little tramp treat my sister like that,' she says. ‘You embarrassed her. You embarrassed me! I'm done, I'm done, I'm done with you.' She kept saying she was done but, believe you me, she 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

W
E HURRY BACK TO
S
EA
H
AVEN IN
C
EEPAK
'
S
H
OT
W
HEELS
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 to shoot a man to stop him from killing Rita, back before she became Ceepak's wife.

“Not seeing Little Arnie broke his heart. When I worked for him, Dr. Rosen was always asking me to clip out any newspaper stories about the Philadelphia Phillies. They were Little Arnie's favorite team. Dr. Rosen hoped to give those clippings to his grandson the next time he came over. He had a whole file folder filled with those sports stories. But Little Arnie never came to the house. Not once. Not while I worked there. He was too busy at school or with little league or soccer camp.”

Christine pauses.

“What are you remembering?” asks Ceepak.

Christine scrunches up her nose and lips like she doesn't want to cry. “How David and Little Arnie always had the time to go over to Philadelphia to watch a Phillies game in person. With tickets Dr. Rosen bought for them.”

Good thing there's a box of Kleenex on the table. Christine grabs a tissue. Blots her eyes.

“So has anybody told you guys about the pendant?”

“No,” says Ceepak.

“You've seen the egg-shaped monitor Dr. Rosen wears around his neck?”

“Yes, ma'am,” says Ceepak.

“Michael, of course, paid for it.”

“And Dr. Rosen agreed to wear it?”

“Yes. But only because he agreed with what Michael said to convince him: he wanted to be around when Little Arnie graduated from high school and went on to U Penn for Dental school.”

We all smile. Come on. It's sweet.

“Anyway, Michael picked the top-of-the-line model. He has all sorts of money.”

“Even more than your mother,” cracks Nussbaum.

We all shoot him a look.

He clears his throat. “Please continue, Christine.”

“Well, what makes this particular pendant better, and more expensive, is the fact that it has a motion sensor that can detect when you've taken a fall. It has something to do with your rate of descent. If you bend over to put a plate in the dishwasher, it won't go off. But if you tumble to the floor, it'll send a signal to the control center and they'll contact you to make sure you're okay.”

“Is that what happened when Dr. Rosen fell?”

“Yes. He slipped in the kitchen. Didn't answer when the pendant people tried to contact him. But they knew he was in trouble because of that sensor, so they called nine-one-one and sent in the paramedics. Like I said, Dr. Rosen was alone in that house for long stretches of time. No one came by to visit him on a regular basis. He could've been there on the floor for days. He could've died.”

Christine looks down at her hands.

“Michael saved Dr. Rosen's life.”

My mind drifts off to the boardwalk and that scary new ride where Mr. Ceepak works.

The Free Fall.

David and Judith got theirs; the fall that should have set them free, financially, for life. Unfortunately, brother Michael snatched away their windfall with his clever little pendant.

So maybe Judith and David decided to make Dr. Rosen take another tumble. And this time, maybe they made sure he couldn't get back up.

Maybe this time they used cyanide.

47

“W
E UNDERSTAND YOU SAVED YOUR FATHER
'
S LIFE
,” C
EEPAK
says to Michael Rosen.

We're in his suite at the Sea Spray, the highest-priced hotel in Sea Haven. It even has bellhops and somebody to carve an S-S logo into the sand in all the outdoor ashtrays.

“You mean the pendant?” says Michael, offering us each a chilled bottle of Pellegrino water from his mini-fridge. I see one of those Toblerone candy bars sitting in a wicker basket on top of the fridge snuggled between a tiny bag of Famous Amos cookies, a jar of cashews, and a Pringles-style can of M&M's. I'm guessing every item in the basket costs at least ten bucks.

Ceepak raises his hand to say no-thanks to the bubbly water. I do the same. But I'm seriously eyeballing those M&M's.

“Dad, of course, thought the monthly fee for the monitoring service was too high. So I put it on one of my credit cards.”