Murder Can Rain on Your Shower (38 page)

door. Yes, a
dash.
(It’s amazing what a little adrena

line can do for your physical prowess.) But a loud

‘‘Hold it!’’ aborted my flight.

I whirled around. Lorraine’s expression was grim—

and she was pointing my own gun at me!

‘‘Give me the ring,’’ she said, oh-so-quietly. Ap

proaching me, she held out her hand—the one that

wasn’t otherwise occupied.

‘‘No,’’ I responded firmly. It just came out, believe me. Listen, there is absolutely no possibility of my ever receiving a medal for bravery.

‘‘Give it to me!’’ Lorraine repeated, more forcefully

this time.

I was about to comply (I told you I wasn’t very

brave) when suddenly she peered down at the gun

and shook her head. Then, to my amazement, she

slipped the weapon into the pocket of her pajamas.

‘‘Shit. I can’t do this,’’ she muttered.

And now she stared at me in wonder. ‘‘I
thought
I saw you ogling that ring when we had breakfast to

gether that morning. But I never imagined I had let a goddamn kleptomaniac into my home. All right, De

siree, take the damn ring if you like it so much. Al

though why you’d pick on the citrine when I have so many other pieces that are worth far more doesn’t say

a helluva lot for your savvy.’’

The
citrine?
I unclenched my fist and stared into my palm. Sure enough, I’d helped myself to the wrong

ring! (Well, it wasn’t as if I’d had all the time in the world, you know. And the bedroom light
was
pretty dim, and the two stones
do
resemble each other.) Tossing the ring onto a nearby table, I ran to the door as fast as these seldom-tested legs would permit.

Chapter
40

It was past ten when I arrived home. The first thing I did was to pour myself some wine—for medicinal

purposes. To give you an idea of the shape I was in, I could almost
hear
my nerves jangle.

I mean, it had been absolutely vital that I leave

Lorraine’s with what I’d come there for. But I’d man

aged to screw up. And it wasn’t easy, either. No mat

ter how poor the bedroom lighting was and how

rushed I felt, I still should have been able to identify the right ring. Listen, even in that brief look I’d had of the citrine later on, I could see that it wasn’t nearly

as large as the topaz and, if I remembered correctly, it was quite a bit paler in color, too.

God! What good was I if I couldn’t carry out a

simple little crime like that!

I had to concede, though, that there was one amus

ing note in my confrontation with Lorraine: her as

sumption that I’d coveted the citrine ever since our get-together at the coffee shop. She’d been wearing

six rings that day, for heaven’s sake! Who could even sort them all out?

At any rate, it was imperative that I get in touch with Porchow immediately. But it wasn’t until I’d

drunk about half a glass of the merlot that I had the courage to make the call.

I assumed he was long gone for the day, but I dialed

the station house anyway, hoping to get a message to him. And guess what? Either he was working overtime

or the guy had assigned himself to night duty again.

MURDER
CAN
RAIN
ON
YOUR
SHOWER

247

‘‘This is Desiree Shapiro,’’ I said when he came on the line. ‘‘Uh, how are you, Chief Porchow?’’

‘‘Tolerable.’’ And then, an ample helping of sarcasm

in his tone: ‘‘Just what is it you’d like me to do for you this time, Ms. Shapiro?’’

Now, I’ve already mentioned my concerns about

using Frank Dreher’s statement to induce the police

to obtain a search warrant. But I had to give it a try. After all, in light of tonight’s fiasco, what were the chances I’d be able to latch onto that topaz ring my

self? ‘‘Uh, I wanted you to know that there’s a witness

who spotted Lorraine Corwin leaving the crime scene

soon after the salads were put on the tables.’’

A long, drawn-out silence followed. ‘‘And who is

this witness?’’

‘‘He’s a waiter at Silver Oaks.’’

‘‘Correct me if I’m mistaken, Ms. Shapiro, but I

thought we’d agreed that you’d back off this thing.’’

What
does
he
mean—‘‘agreed’’?
Porchow was mak

ing it sound as if it had been a mutual decision, for heaven’s sake. However, if there was a single worst

moment to antagonize the man, this was that moment.

‘‘Oh, we did. And I have. But this one waiter was on vacation when I interviewed the staff at the club, so I left a message on his answering machine asking that

he phone me when he returned from his trip. Of

course, this was before you and I had our discussion.’’

‘‘And this individual has now admitted to you that

he can place Ms. Corwin in the dining room just prior

to lunch?’’

‘‘Well, no. Actually, when he called back he con

vinced me that he hadn’t noticed anything of signifi

cance that afternoon. But then we started to chat. And

I got kind of preachy about how important it was that

we all do everything we can to make certain that

somebody who commits a crime like that is brought to justice. Evidently it struck a chord, because he badgered

another waiter—his friend—into coming forward.’’

‘‘The friend, I take it,
was
the actual witness.’’

248

Selma
Eichler

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘And he was obviously advised to contact
you,

rather than the law enforcement officials in charge of the investigation,’’ Porchow observed sourly. ‘‘At any rate, I presume you have the fellow’s name.’’

‘‘Frank Dreher.’’

‘‘Dreher . . . Dreher . . . That’s familiar. Hold on.’’

For about a minute the only sound to reach my ears

was that of papers rustling. Then the policeman got

on the line again. ‘‘We spoke to Mr. Dreher shortly after it was determined that we had a homicide on

our hands, and he denied seeing anything, hearing

anything,
knowing
anything.’’

I responded to this with an empathetic expression

and a shrug—until I realized that these didn’t commu

nicate too well over the telephone. ‘‘Initially he didn’t

want to get involved. I run into that sort of thinking on a pretty regular basis. I would imagine you do,

too.’’

‘‘Yeah. Listen, I’ll have to question the guy myself to verify what you’re telling me. But keep in mind that

even if we’re satisfied that Dreher saw Ms. Corwin on

her way out of the dining room within the critical time

frame, this doesn’t prove she did the job on the Mor

ton woman’s salad.’’
See?
That
was
exactly
what
I
was
afraid
Porchow
would
hand
me!
I almost fell off my chair when he added, ‘‘It should be enough to get us a search warrant, however.’’

Now
doesn’t
that
beat
all!

‘‘Just so you understand, though, Ms. Lynton was—

and still is—our prime suspect. I’m proceeding with

this not because I give your theory a helluva lot of weight, but because I feel that it’s incumbent upon me

as an officer of the law to explore every possibility. At any rate, I’ll keep you advised.’’

‘‘Wait! Don’t hang up yet.’’

‘‘Is there something else, Ms. Shapiro?’’

‘‘Yes, there is,’’ I admitted sheepishly. ‘‘When you

go through Miss Corwin’s apartment? Uh, maybe you

MURDER
CAN
RAIN
ON
YOUR
SHOWER

249

could keep an eye out for my shoulder bag and my

gun. It’s a thirty-two caliber and—’’

‘‘I don’t believe this! Did you actually say what I think you did?’’ Porchow was speaking so loudly that I had to hold the receiver at arm’s length. ‘‘I hope you have a good explanation as to how those things

got into her possession.’’

As far away as that phone was, I was able to catch every syllable. ‘‘I . . . I left them at her place.’’

‘‘When was this?’’

‘‘It was . . . before. That is . . . earlier tonight.’’

‘‘
Tonight!
What in hell were you doing there, anyway?’’

‘‘I . . . umm, I thought that maybe I could persuade

her to confess.’’

‘‘So much for keeping your promise. But never

mind that now. If you’re right about Ms. Corwin, what

you did was foolish and dangerous. You should be

locked up for your own protection—do you know

that?’’

‘‘Yes.’’ I took another sip of wine at this point—I needed it.

‘‘You still haven’t told me how you came to leave

your pocketbook and weapon behind.’’

‘‘I was—’’

‘‘Never mind,’’ Porchow broke in testily. ‘‘On sec

ond thought, I’d rather not hear it.’’

It was well after nine when Chief Porchow phoned

the next evening. ‘‘Sergeant Block had a conversation

with your Mr. Dreher this morning,’’ he told me. (I’d had my doubts about Sergeant Block’s even being able

to talk.) ‘‘Dreher confirmed that he spotted Lorraine

Corwin exiting the dining room some ten or fifteen

minutes before the other guests went in for lunch. At any rate, we completed a search of her apartment

about an hour ago.’’

I was one short step from hyperventilating.

‘‘And—?’’

250

Selma
Eichler

‘‘And I have your gun and your handbag—along

with a second topaz ring that the lady maintains be

longs to you, as well. Incidentally, I expected we’d turn up those white gloves of hers. Only that didn’t happen. Ms. Corwin claims one ripped, and she had

to toss them.’’

It was a maximum effort to keep myself from

shrieking the next words. ‘‘But the topaz ring?
Her
topaz ring, I mean. Do you have it?’’

‘‘I was getting to that. It was right there in a jewelry

box on her dresser. And you were correct about one

thing—the ring does open. But if it was used in the commission of this homicide—and I still regard it as a very big ‘if’—we can infer from its being left virtu

ally out in the open that the woman was confident she

was able to remove all evidence of the poison.’’

‘‘Also, she wasn’t aware that we had the slightest

inkling as to what purpose that ring had served.’’

‘‘Mmm,’’ was the extent of Porchow’s response to

this. Following which he cleared his throat. ‘‘By the way, the suspect gave me an earful regarding what

occurred there last night. But we’ll leave that for an

other time—when you can also tell me what the hell

a citrine is.’’

‘‘Uh, when do you think you’ll be getting the toxi

cologist’s report?’’ I put this to him quickly, before he

could change his mind and insist that I provide him with every mortifying detail of that visit then and

there.

‘‘I can’t say exactly. Most likely the latter part of next week.’’

‘‘You’ll call me—one way or the other?’’

‘‘I will. But about your property—it’s at the station house here. Aren’t you at all interested in retrieving it?’’

My God! What was with me, anyway? I was so con

sumed with seeing to it that Lorraine Corwin was ap

prehended that everything else was taking a back seat

to this. I mean, that bag contained my Social Security card, my checkbook, my credit cards, my driver’s li

MURDER
CAN
RAIN
ON
YOUR
SHOWER

251

cense, my cell phone, and my wallet (never mind that

inside of this was the grand total of eleven dollars and

ninety-six cents). And what about that other absolute essential: my makeup case? (I’d had to rely on my

skimpy supply of emergency backup cosmetics today,

and I swear that one of the law clerks at Gilbert and Sullivan took one look at my face and actually shud

dered.) Also, let’s not forget those you-never-know

when-you-might-need-it items that I always carry with

me. Like cough syrup, Extra-Strength Tylenol, hairspray, a flashlight, a stapler (you’d be surprised at how often that’s come in handy), a metal tape measure,