Murder Can Rain on Your Shower (35 page)

spelling.

During the next hour and a half, I put on my

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clothes, had some breakfast (which I could barely get down), and then tackled Sunday’s
New
York
Times
crossword puzzle. And let me tell you, if I should ever

feel the need to be brought down a peg, it’s reassuring

to know that the Sunday
Times
crossword can accom

modate me.

Porchow returned my call promptly at ten thirty.

‘‘This is Chief Porchow. I understand there’s some

thing urgent you want to talk to me about.’’ I don’t say that he sounded unfriendly. But I can’t say he

sounded friendly, either.

‘‘Yes, I do. And you were absolutely right,’’ I an

nounced, doing my best to pave the way for a favor

able response to what I was preparing to lay on him.

‘‘Well, that’s a novelty,’’ he commented dryly. ‘‘And

just what was I right about?’’

‘‘You pointed out that it wasn’t logical that Lorraine

Corwin would put on the ring that day. And in spite of my attempts at rationalization, I finally came to

agree with you. Well, then I started wracking my brain

as to why she would have worn it.’’ I paused long

enough to convey to the man that he was about to

hear something momentous.

‘‘And your conclusion?’’ But Porchow seemed al

most disinterested.

‘‘The ring was the murder weapon.’’

‘‘The
what?
’’ The man had become an instant

soprano.

‘‘It had to be. Why else would she saddle herself

with it? And just consider the size of that thing—it was the perfect container for the monkshood leaves.’’

And now I reminded him about the infamous Duchess

of Ferrara, a.k.a. Lucrezia Borgia. Then before he

could comment, I gave a short, amended account of

the poisoning itself and the cleanup that followed it. I concluded with, ‘‘I don’t believe I’d ever have fig

ured all of this out, though, if you hadn’t questioned the presence of the ring to start with.’’

‘‘I’m not immune to flattery, Ms. Shapiro, and I

thank you for the kind words. But I hope you realize

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Selma
Eichler

that what you’ve just told me is, once again, nothing more than a theory.’’

‘‘Well, yes, but—’’

‘‘And what, exactly, are you proposing I do about

it, anyway?’’

‘‘Listen, I believe that there’s a really good chance Miss Corwin is still in possession of the ring. I mean, she’s probably pretty attached to it—in its own way, it’s actually quite stunning—and as far as she’s aware,

no one’s associated it with the poisoning. So why get rid of the thing? Also, I’m sure she figures she washed

away any evidence of the monkshood.’’

‘‘Your point being—?’’

‘‘That there might still be
some
trace of the stuff inside that compartment. So if you obtained a search warrant, it—’’

‘‘Hold it, Ms. Shapiro. I can’t ask for a search war

rant on the basis of what you’re suggesting. You don’t

even know if the ring
has
a secret compartment. And even if I were inclined to try and obtain a warrant, no judge of my acquaintance would consider issuing

one.’’

‘‘Look, you were telling me the other day that there

wasn’t any proof of Lorraine Corwin’s guilt. But how am I supposed to get you that proof?’’

‘‘You aren’t, remember? Obviously, you’re not con

vinced of this, but the Forsythe Police Department is fully capable of apprehending the perpetrator. So just back off, and let us do our jobs here.’’

‘‘But you could at least take a crack at getting that warrant,’’ I whined.

‘‘I was under the impression I’d made myself clear.

You want me to do something that I’m simply not

able to do.’’ His voice became sterner. ‘‘Incidentally, Ms. Shapiro, I find it unbelievable that you’d have the

gall to request anything from me at all, considering that you’ve been hampering this investigation from the

very beginning.’’

‘‘If you’re referring to my telling you that Mrs. Lyn

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ton and I were constantly together at the shower, well,

I know you think I was lying, but—’’

‘‘
Think
was the other day. Now I
know
.’’

‘‘What—’’

‘‘Good-bye, Ms. Shapiro.’’ And Chief Porchow gen

tly put down the phone.

It was past ten thirty when I got to the office on Tuesday. Almost immediately I was aware that I’d

done the unforgivable: neglected to contact Jackie to inform her that I’d be late. I mean, experience has taught me that Jackie places such an oversight on a par with kicking a puppy or stealing from the collec

tion plate.

Anyway, I was immediately confronted with a hos

tile expression, blazing eyes, and a ‘‘Where have you
been?
’’ uttered from behind clenched teeth.

‘‘Don’t be mad, Jackie. I should have phoned, but,

well, I guess I forgot. Everything just seemed to get away from me today. I’d been up most of the night, and then this morning I had a very upsetting talk with

the Forsythe chief of police, and—’’

‘‘Do you have even the slightest inkling of how wor

ried I was?’’ Jackie demanded shrilly.

‘‘I’m really sorry, but as I said—’’

‘‘I called your apartment twice, and no answer. I

presume you must have already left by then. Another

minute or two, though, and I would have contacted

your friend Harriet and asked her to check on you.’’

She thrust a pink message slip at me. ‘‘It’s from Alli

son. She called at nine forty-six. She wants you to get back to her.’’

I was tempted to remind Jackie that I could read.

But plainly, this was not the time.

‘‘I couldn’t even tell the woman when you were

expected,’’ she grumbled. Which prompted me to en

gage in a little teeth-clenching myself. I mean, enough

was enough. Then unexpectedly, Jackie’s tone soft

ened. ‘‘How was your holiday?’’

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Selma
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I realized the question was meant as a lead-in to

my inquiring about
her
holiday. But all she got from me before I walked away was a terse, ‘‘It was okay,’’

followed by a peremptory, ‘‘See you later.’’

I dialed the number reluctantly. I was fairly certain I knew what Allison wanted to discuss with me, and

I dreaded having this confirmed. Which it was—almost

as soon as she answered the phone.

‘‘Oh, Desiree.’’ The catch in her voice led me to

suspect that she’d been crying. ‘‘Chief Porchow was

here a little while ago. Apparently he’s located some

body—one of the shower guests—who saw me re

turning from the powder room alone not very long

before we were all called in to lunch.’’ And here Alli

son sniffled a few times, which removed any doubt

that she’d been crying.

‘‘Did you pass anyone in the corridor?’’

‘‘I don’t think so. But anybody standing at that end

of the Minerva Room might have noticed me coming

down the hall.’’

‘‘What did you say to Porchow?’’

‘‘I said the woman—whoever she is—was mis

taken.’’

‘‘Good.’’

‘‘Umm, there’s something I should tell you, Desiree.

When Chief Porchow initially inquired about my

movements prior to the group’s entering the dining

room, I said that I’d been with you the entire time. But I promise you this wasn’t to deceive the man.

That brief trip to the restroom just didn’t occur to me.

I imagine I sort of sloughed off the question, most probably because I had no idea I was a serious sus

pect—or, at least, that I soon would be. During their second visit, though, the police were a bit more spe

cific. The chief wanted to know if I was certain neither

of us had even gone to the ladies’ room by ourselves during the cocktail hour. And that’s when it came to me. But of course, I had just learned that I’d become the focus of the investigation. And while I’m hardly

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proud of myself, quite frankly, I was too shaken to admit the truth.

‘‘However, I never meant to put you in the position

of lying for me. That’s why, when I came to consult with you regarding my . . . my revised status with the Forsythe Police Department, I didn’t bring up having

given them misinformation. I was very concerned that

you might consider any mention of that as an attempt

to induce you to back me up. In actuality, though, I fully anticipated that when you were asked about this,

you’d provide an honest recounting of the facts. And at the point that I was confronted with your version, I

intended to claim that our short separation had simply

slipped my mind. Which is, after all, precisely what happened—at first, at any rate. But I assume that, for

some reason, the police have delayed interrogating

you about my whereabouts.’’

‘‘No, Porchow spoke to me about that last week.

And I assured him that you and I had been like Sia

mese twins right up until the meal was served.’’

‘‘God, Desiree. I didn’t expect— I can’t allow you

to do this, you know. You have your professional rep

utation to think about and—’’

‘‘It’s already done. And, listen, I didn’t do it for you. I acted out of self-preservation. The thought of you sitting in prison, stamping out license plates,

would have caused me nightmares.’’

Allison managed a laugh. But in a second or two

she turned serious again. ‘‘This witness . . . how much

weight do you suppose her statement will carry?’’

‘‘Look, it’s just her word against ours. But even if it could be definitely established that you walked

down that hall at what was approximately the requisite

time, it still wouldn’t prove that you committed the murder. You’re in no worse shape than you were be

fore Ms. Big Mouth came along.’’

‘‘Do you really believe that?’’ Allison asked softly.

‘‘Yes, I do.’’ But my palms were moist when I said the words.

Chapter
38

I was brain-drained by the time I got home Tuesday

evening.

After my talk with Allison, I’d spent the better part

of the day trying to devise some sort of plan that would help me establish Lorraine Corwin’s guilt. The

best I could come up with—and I’m not claiming it

had success written all over it—was simply to sit down

with Allison and tell her all I knew. Maybe once I got her to accept her friend’s culpability, she’d reveal something incriminating about the woman, something

she either hadn’t thought to or hadn’t wanted to men

tion before.

Plus, I was still hoping that something would come

of Dominick Gallo and friend. But it’s not exactly as if this could be regarded as money in the bank, either.

At any rate, I had no sooner sat down to what re

mained of that dinner with Ellen and Mike than a

skinny little man with a surly expression rang my

doorbell and delivered a surprise: a stunning bouquet of cymbidium orchids.

Imagine!

Before placing them in a more appropriate setting,

I had the orchids share the kitchen table with me

while I ate. Not that I paid much attention to the food.

I was too busy admiring the flowers and replaying in my head the message that came with them. The card

really didn’t say anything that special, simply, ‘‘I look forward to our spending some time together soon.’’

But it was enough for me.

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I phoned Nick at around eight, figuring he’d be

home by then. And he was.

‘‘Thank you! The flowers are gorgeous!’’

He was obviously pleased. ‘‘I’m glad you like

them,’’

‘‘You didn’t have to do that, you know.’’

‘‘But I wanted to. Uh, Dez, I hope that by making