Wall-To-Wall Dead (28 page)

When we got downstairs, the ER was in an uproar, with doctors and nurses running frantically to and fro, doing their damndest to keep Candy alive. It looked like they weren’t going to succeed. They had brought out the defibrillators, and while I watched, they tried to shock her back to life a couple of times.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked Derek, my voice shaking, and he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. His body felt warm and solid against mine, and his voice was strong and steady, bringing comfort, even if the words he said were chilling.

“I’m guessing some sort of poison. There are natural, medical reasons why someone might present with symptoms of intoxication and nausea—concussion, Bickerstaff syndrome, or even just a heavy migraine would do it—but they aren’t usually followed by a full systemic shutdown. It’s more likely it’s some kind of drug or poison.”

“She didn’t do drugs,” Jamie said from behind me, her voice shaking as she watched the doctors and nurses frantically trying to save Candy. “I swear. All she had was a bottle of wine last night. I had half a glass. I’m not as used to wine as she is. I had only a little, and she had the rest. Although I think there was alcohol in the chocolates, too.”

Liqueur-filled, maybe.

“Wine and chocolates shouldn’t be responsible for this,” Derek said, I guess in an attempt to be comforting. “Not unless there was something wrong with them. Did everything taste all right?”

Jamie’s bottom lip quivered, and she sank her teeth into it. “I don’t know. I grew up religious. I’m not used to alcohol. It tasted strong, but alcohol always does. It wasn’t bitter or anything.”

“It wouldn’t have to be,” Derek said. “A lot of substances don’t taste like anything at all. And some taste sweet. In fact…”

He didn’t get any further, because now the double doors at the end of the hall opened and Wayne strode through, looking like a slightly older avenging angel in a uniform.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded when he was about twenty feet away. His voice was low, but vibrating with fury. Beside me, Jamie shrank back, quailing. I patted her arm and raised my voice.

“Gregg Brewer said it looked like a relapse.”

Wayne shot a look through the window into the ER, where Gregg, along with everyone else, was bent over the table where Candy lay. When he turned back to Jamie, he had visibly simmered down and was making an effort to control his temper.

“Were you with her?”

Jamie nodded and swallowed. “I’ve been here since this afternoon. She seemed fine. She had a tube to help her breathe, you know…” She made a move toward her throat.

“Intubated,” Derek shot in.

“But she was all right. Quiet. Sleeping.”

Or unconscious, rather.

“The machines all sounded fine. Beeping. Steady. I was…” She flushed, looking guilty, “I think I might have dozed off. I don’t feel great, either, and it’s been a long day.”

I patted her arm.

“I heard something, and I sat up, and the machines were going crazy and Candy was…” She swallowed. “She was arching off the bed. Shaking.”

“Convulsing,” Derek translated.

“I didn’t even have time to call anyone. They came running; I guess they monitor the machines from somewhere else. They pushed me out of the way and started working on her, and then they took her out of the room and down here, and Derek and Avery came and got me…” She swallowed, tears trickling down her cheeks again. She was swaying, and I put my arm around her.

“Maybe we should get out of here. She needs to rest.”

“Not until I know…” Jamie whispered and turned back to the window. In time to see everything come to a standstill. The doctor with the defibrillators lifted them from Candy’s chest and took a step back. So did everyone else. For a moment, everything was frozen, like a still from a movie. Gregg Brewer looked at his watch. I could see his lips move, but I couldn’t hear the words. I didn’t have to, to know what he said. “Time of death, eight-oh-four
P.M
.”

Jamie wailed, and fell on my neck, bawling into my shoulder.

“Damn,” Derek said.

“This is crazy,” Josh said forty minutes later. “I can’t wrap my brain around it. Dad and I have lived here more than eight years, ever since my mom died. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

We’d loaded Jamie into the car, still crying, and Derek had driven us back to the condo. By the time we got there, Jamie had fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder. Rather than waking her, Derek had scooped her up and carried her the three flights of stairs up to her apartment while I ran ahead and held the doors.

Josh must have been waiting for her to come back, because as soon as he heard us outside, he swung his door open. “Jamie…oh.”

He looked from me, to Jamie in Derek’s arms, to Derek himself.

“She’s out cold,” Derek said. “I was just gonna put her in bed.”

But somewhere along the way—perhaps when Josh had spoken—Jamie had woken up, and now she wiggled, her cheeks flushed. “I’m awake. You can put me down.”

She squirmed so much that Derek almost dropped her before he managed to put her on her feet. “I’m OK,” she added, taking her keys out of my hand.

“What happened?” Josh wanted to know, looking from one to the other of us again. “Jamie?”

Jamie’s eyes filled with tears, and her lip started quivering.

“Candy…” I began, and Jamie’s eyes overflowed.

“Oh, shit.” Josh did the only thing he could, and hugged her. She sniffled into his chest as he gave me a helpless glance over her head. I shrugged. This was his own fault. If he hadn’t slept with her in the first place, she probably wouldn’t feel OK about crying on him now.

“We have to talk,” I told him.

“About?”

“That envelope. The stuff Miss Shaw had.”

I could see Jamie stiffen. After a second, she pushed away from Josh and glared at him, accusing. “You told her?”

“She knew already,” Josh said. “Derek recognized you.”

“Excuse me?” She turned to look at Derek, who shrugged.

“Bachelor party Friday night.”

“Oh, great.” Jamie blushed. She looked like she wasn’t sure where to look—at him or me or Josh—or for that matter where to put her hands. She ended up folding her arms across her chest, in a classic defensive position.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “he’s not imagining you naked. At least he’d better not be.”

Derek grinned and put an arm around me. “No worries, Tink. I’ve been married before. I know the rules.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

I grinned back and turned to Josh. “You have to give the
stuff in the envelope to your dad. There’s something going on here. Something more than just Miss Shaw being nosy. That envelope may have something to do with it.” It probably did, if Miss Shaw had been murdered, too. As I assumed Candy had been. Two unexplained, suspicious deaths in the same building in just a few days were too much of a coincidence for me.

Josh looked stubborn. “It’s personal stuff. None of my dad’s business. Bad enough that Miss Shaw found out about it.”

Jamie nodded. “What if he tells my parents where I work?”

“Why would he?” I said reasonably. “You’re an adult. Maybe not in Mississippi, but here in Maine. You can make a living any way you want, as long as it’s legal. And stripping was legal, last I looked.”

Jamie didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything else. I turned back to Josh.

“If it doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on, he won’t have to share it. But he has to know. I know you don’t care who killed Miss Shaw, if someone did, but what about Candy? Don’t you think someone should pay for that? And who knows if whoever it is will stop there? Who’ll be next? Jamie?”

Josh glanced at her, and for a second, they wore identical expressions of horror and fear.

I pushed my advantage. “Wayne has to know. Anything that’s gone on in this building, no matter how innocent it seems, might have something to do with Miss Shaw and Candy. If he doesn’t have all the information, how can he figure it out?”

“But what if Shannon finds out?” His glance as Jamie was fearful, and quick enough that he missed seeing the corresponding flash of hurt that crossed her pale face. Maybe she liked him more than he liked her. To him, their encounter had been a one-night stand he didn’t want the girl he loved to find out about, but maybe Jamie had hoped for more.

“Tell her,” Derek said. “Keeping secrets never works. Better just to come clean and throw yourself on her mercy. Women love a man who knows how to grovel.” He winked at me.

Josh looked uncertain.

“If you don’t want to tell him,” I said, back to Wayne again, “I will. I don’t have any of the stuff Miss Shaw collected, but I do have the information. Enough of it that he can figure out the rest. But he’ll have to dig for it, and it’ll take time, and that’s time he can use to figure out the deaths instead. It would be better just to give him what you’ve got. He’s your dad. Don’t you trust him?”

“Of course I do,” Josh said. “They’re not just my secrets, though.”

“But you said it yourself. Most of it is innocent enough. Wayne isn’t gonna care that Robin’s been married before or that Jamie works as a stripper. That’s not illegal. I’m sure he already knows that Bruce has a juvenile record and that Professor Easton’s college roommate committed suicide. And unless Mariano moved in with Gregg in the past eight months…”

Jamie shook her head.

“He and Wayne lived in the same building for a while. Wayne must have suspected that Mariano is working without a permit. If he didn’t say anything about it before, why would he say anything about it now? He isn’t ICE. And Candy…”

Jamie sniffed, and Josh sent her a wary glance. Maybe he was afraid she was going to start bawling and latch on to him again.

I included Jamie in my next statement. “It’s too late to protect Candy, or even try to keep things quiet for Francesca Rossini’s sake. Wayne needs to know what was going on.”

Jamie looked tearful, but she nodded. I turned to Josh, who sighed.

“Fine. But I’m not going to spring it on them without warning. The least we can do is let them know what Miss
Shaw knew, and that the police will probably want to talk to them about it.”

After a second’s hesitation, he added, “They should hear about Candy anyway. As soon as possible.”

I glanced at my watch. Just after nine. Most of the neighbors were probably still up. Gregg wasn’t even here. Mariano might not be, either. I hadn’t seen him all day, and I hadn’t noticed whether the Jeep was there in the parking lot when we arrived.

“I’ll go door to door with you,” Derek said.

“Me, too,” Jamie added.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed? You look beat.”

She shook her head. “She was my friend. I need to do this.”

Very well, then. We turned toward the stairs and started climbing.

We started with Bruce and Robin Mellon. I could hear the TV going when we stood outside the door—something that sounded like Barney the Dinosaur or similar—but when I knocked, the sound was muted. Tiny feet pattered toward the door, followed by heavier ones. “Hold on, son,” Bruce’s voice said. “Let me get the chain for you first.”

I heard the sound of the lock sliding back and the chain rattling, and then the door was opened. Slowly, as Benjamin exerted all his efforts. When the door opened, they both looked at us, Bruce over Benjamin’s head.

The boy was dressed in little footie pajamas with pictures of tiny, green crocodiles wearing sunhats, and he looked too precious for words, with his big, dark eyes and shock of black hair. Bruce, meanwhile, looked a little less precious, with his shaved head, his pierced ears, and his black T-shirt with Gothic symbols on it.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Avery.”

Bruce nodded. “I know who you are.”

This was the first time I’d actually spoken to him, or even seen him up close, and he was bigger than I’d realized.
At least as tall as Derek and beefier. One big hand was wrapped around a bottle, the nails grimy with what was probably motor oil or other engine fluids he wasn’t able to get rid of anymore. Though I expected beer, the bottle turned out to be green tea.

He looked from me to Jamie, next to me, and then to Derek and Josh, behind us. Eventually his eyes, pale blue, came back to me, questioning.