Grace Sees Red (4 page)

An uneasy glance passed between Percy and Kyle. “It isn't what she saw,” Percy said. “It's what the cops think she
did
.”

Bennett stiffened.

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“I'm not sure, but . . .” Percy flexed his jaw.

Kyle interrupted. “Frances may have killed Gus.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said without even attempting to keep my voice down. “No way. No. Way.” Though Frances had never been a suspect in any of the murders around Marshfield Manor, she was abrasive enough that Detectives Rodriguez and Flynn—Flynn, in particular—would have leapt at the chance to lock my assistant up. Who knew how she was handling herself with these Rosette cops? This was not good. At all. “How long has she been in with them?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes?” Kyle said. “Not long.”

In the world of interrogations, twenty minutes was an eternity.

Bennett got to his feet. “This is preposterous. Let me talk to the officer in charge. They've made a grave mistake.”

“We know,” Percy said. When Bennett paid him no heed, Percy raised his voice. “Please, sit. It's going to be fine. They're questioning everyone who was around this morning. They questioned me and Kyle, too. I'm sure this is all routine and she'll join us here soon.”

“But you said she's been in there for twenty minutes,” I reminded him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “They have a little more to cover with Frances.”

“I don't like this,” I said. “Should we call a lawyer?”

Bennett had already pulled out his cell phone. “I'll get one down here immediately. Gracie, go talk with the officer at the door. Tell him that Frances refuses to answer any more questions until her attorney is present.”

I got up, even though I knew the mission would be a futile endeavor. Neither Bennett nor I could prevent the police from questioning Frances. If she wanted counsel present, Frances would have to demand that herself.

“Wait a moment,” Bennett said. “There's no signal here. I'll go out front to make the call myself and discuss this matter with the officer in charge. You stay with these two gentlemen and find out all you can about what happened here today.”

Kyle rotated his chair to observe Bennett's progress out of the Sun Gallery. “You guys don't mess around, do you?”

I didn't bother answering. “You said they have more to cover with Frances. That she might be a suspect. What do you mean?”

Percy hunched a shoulder. “I'm telling you she's going to be released any second now.”

His confidence was beginning to gnaw on my nerves. “And I'm telling you that it isn't always that simple. What more can you tell me? How did Gustave die?”

“They won't give us specifics,” Percy said. “When Frances and I got back to the apartment, police were swarming the East Wing and wouldn't let us back into our room. That's the first we heard about Gus being dead. When they shuttled us over here, Cathy told us she heard them use the word
murder
. But you've met Cathy. She exaggerates.”

I turned to Kyle. “Where were you?”

“Physical therapy. I left about the same time Percy and Frances took off for church. So I heard the fight.”

“Fight?” I asked.

“Frances and Gus got into it, big-time,” Kyle said. “Their worst one ever.”

I dropped my head into my hands. “Oh no.”

“It's not like that,” Percy said. “Everyone knew that Frances and Gus didn't like each other very much, but today's argument was normal. Nothing special.”

I lifted my head. “Except this time one of the combatants is dead.”

“That's beside the point.” Percy worked his lips. “You gotta understand, the guy was sick. I mean, seriously ill. Congestive heart failure, emphysema, and who knows what else. The fact that he croaked this morning shouldn't have triggered anything more than a call to the funeral home for a pickup.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said. “People die here every day. Like, literally.”

“No,
you
don't understand,” I said. “If foul play is suspected, and Frances is involved, this is serious. I need answers.”

Percy stared out over the top of Kyle's head. “And here they come. See, what did I tell you?”

Bennett accompanied Frances as the two made their way toward us. Her gaze was fixed on our table, but one look at her fisted hands, pursed lips, and storming gait, and I knew she wasn't actually seeing any of us.

I got to my feet. “What's going on, Frances?”

“How dare they?” she asked rhetorically. “I didn't kill that old bag of bones. How do they know he didn't do it himself? I'll bet that miserable, selfish, ignorant lump finally decided he'd had enough and figured he could blame it on me.”

Bennett pulled up another chair. “Have a seat, Frances.”

Outside, the thunder and lightning had finally let up, but in here, Frances's stormy fury was about to be unleashed. “You think I can sit after what I've been through?”

Perspiration speckled the chest of her violet blouse. Her steel-gray hair poufed out at both temples as though she'd recently been yanking it out.

“Talk to me, Frances.”

Normally, Frances eschewed all physical contact. When I touched her arm, I expected her to draw back. She surprised
me by taking a sharp breath. She worked her jaw as though to collect herself. After a swift glance around the Sun Gallery, she faced me. “This is ridiculous.”

“I know it is. And we're here to help. But we need to know what's going on.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me, then turned to Bennett. “Sorry for snapping. I'm a little stressed right now.”

Bennett waved off the apology. “Perfectly understandable.” He nudged the chair a little closer to her. “But now that you've been released, things are looking up. Let's all take a deep breath and sort this out, shall we?”

Frances nodded. She tucked the hem of her blouse into her slacks' elastic waistband and took a seat in the proffered chair. “Stupid cops.”

When we were all settled, with Frances between me and Kyle, Bennett gave me a nod. I decided to tread gently. “Percy and Kyle said that their roommate is dead and the police suspect murder. Is that right?”

Frances leaned forward, smashing a fingertip against one of the black checkerboard squares as though testing its rigidity. “As far as offing that old curmudgeon, the nurses probably have a sign-up sheet at the front desk for people eager to do the deed,” she said. “Don't know why they spent so much time talking to me.” She shot me a sideways glance. “I didn't do it.”

“We know you didn't.” Keeping calm took every bit of resolve I could manage. Questions scrambled my thoughts and a thousand prickles of worry tap-danced along my spine. I wanted answers so badly I was tempted to shake everyone around me until the right words fell out. But Frances was as worked up as I'd ever seen her. Next to me, under the table, her knee bounced. And though she poked at the same square over and over, exerting so much pressure that her fingernail reddened, she couldn't keep her hand from shaking.

She looked up, thrusting her chin toward Percy. “So you're probably wondering why I never told you about him.”

“Right now, all we care about is that you're free to go,” Bennett said. “Are you?”

Frances snorted. “Who knows? They may need to ‘follow up' with me.” She gave a haughty little head-waggle. “These guys are barking up the wrong tree, thinking I had something to do with any of this.” Curling up one side of her mouth, Frances added, “These cops are even bigger idiots than Flynn and Rodriguez back home.”

“I'm relieved that you're out of interrogation,” Bennett said. “As an added precaution, I've contacted one of my attorneys. She'll meet us here shortly.”

“I don't need an attorney. Then for sure they'll think I'm guilty.”

“It doesn't hurt to cover our bases, Frances,” I said. “And it makes Bennett feel good to be able to help.”

She settled both chubby arms on the table. “I suppose.”

With a nod, Bennett encouraged me to go on.

“I have a couple of questions,” I said.

Frances squinted at the tabletop. “Go ahead.”

“First of all, your husband says—”

Frances jerked like a folded marionette suddenly brought to life. “Hold up right there, missy.” Flipping her fingers to point gunlike at Percy, she said, “That lowlife across the table is not my husband.”

“Oh, come on, Frances,” Percy said in a gently teasing tone. “If you're not my one and only, then why do we have the same last name?”

“Did he
tell you
we were married?” she asked.

“Actually . . .” I was about to explain that Cathy had identified him, when Frances interrupted.

“Let me clarify. It's true that Mr. Tall Tales over there
was
my husband, but that was a couple of lifetimes ago. Lucky for me, I wised up and divorced him. Probably back when you were still in diapers.”

“Got it.” I wondered why, if she despised the man so much, she continued to visit him every weekend. “Can we get back to why the police believe Gus was murdered?”

“Fine.” Frances huffed out a breath and glared at Percy. “I'll wait 'til later to set the story straight.”

“I can't believe you think I'd lie to your friends,” he said, feigning hurt.

She snarled at him. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

Percy didn't seem the least bit perturbed. “All I told them was that Gus was alive when we left the apartment this morning and dead by the time we got back. You take it from there, sweetie.”

“Hold your tongue.” If Frances could have shot poison darts straight from her eyes to his heart, she wouldn't have given it a second thought. “What's wrong with you?”

“That's my little pistol.” Percy turned to Bennett. “I knew she was in there somewhere. Come on now, out with the rest of the story. What did the police ask you?”

Whether it had been a result of Percy's teasing or the fact that she was finally able to catch her breath after being questioned by the police, Frances's mood had done a complete turnaround. Instead of leaning heavily on the table, she sat back, arms folded across her chest, regarding us all with mild annoyance. This was the Frances I knew.

“They thought they were being so clever,” she said. “But Grace and I know how cops operate. They thought they could trap me into admitting something I didn't do.” She gave a quick, humorless laugh. “They don't know who they're up against.”

Relieved to finally be on track, I asked, “What do you know about how Gus died?”

She made eye contact with Percy and Kyle. “You know that tube thing Gus had attached to him all the time?” She pointed to the back of her left hand. “Right here?”

“The heparin lock?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, that's it.” She turned to me. “It's for shooting medicine into him without always having to stick him with a needle every single time.”

Percy gestured with his elbow. “There's nothing dangerous about those.”

“I didn't say there was.” More poison darts.

“What about it?” I asked.

Frances resumed the story. “One of the nurses came in to
flush it—they have to do that every couple of days so it doesn't get infected—and that's when they found Gus dead.”

“Which nurse?” Kyle asked.

“That skinny male nurse. The tall one with the bad complexion,” Frances said. “His name is Santiago something-or-other.”

“So how do they know Gus was murdered?” I asked. “I can't imagine a gunshot would go unnoticed around here. Was he stabbed? Smothered?”

“They didn't give me specifics. All I know is that they found something in Gus's room that shouldn't have been there.”

“What did they find?” Bennett asked.

“They wouldn't tell me.”

“That's not very helpful,” I said.

“You think?” Frances grimaced. “They were waiting for me to say something that would prove I was there, so that they could claim I had insider knowledge. But I can't give them information I don't possess.” She tightened her arms across her chest and twisted around to face the rest of the room. Raising her voice, she said, “You all heard that loud and clear, right? I didn't do it.”

A few of the room's inhabitants shot furtive glances to one another and pretended not to be paying us any attention. A couple of people shifted in their seats.

Cathy came hurrying over, slightly out of breath as though she'd run the entire way down the hall. “Just so you know,” she said when she got to our table, “the police said they don't know how soon they plan to allow you back in your rooms. So if you need something, you'll have to ask one of us to get it for you.”

“Kyle and I aren't sleeping in here tonight,” Percy said. “Not a chance.”

“Of course not.” Cathy giggled, which seemed an odd reaction, given the events of the day. “We're looking into options in case the police stay here really late.”

“There aren't any open apartments in our wing,” Percy said. “They better not stick us together in one of those dorm
rooms where we have to share a TV and a bathroom. I don't want to listen to the kid snore all night.”