Chapter 59
Time for more tea with Zander. Her wondrous hacking skills had yet to produce anything useful, not that Simon was ungrateful.
Since she had already found her way into the hospital’s system, running down another name was no problem.
She opened her laptop on the little breakfast table and pecked away. “Got him.”
She turned the screen to Simon who was suddenly staring at the face of Oscar Kofie, one he vaguely remembered from last December.
Early thirties, chubby cheeks, clean-shaven, drugstore eyeglasses, receding hairline.
Nothing noticeable or distinguishable about the face.
Nor the bio—associate’s degree from a community college in Dayton; certified X-ray tech in Ohio, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia; eleven years of experience in various hospitals, public and private.
“What makes him a suspect?” Zander asked casually, as if she didn’t care. Simon had learned that she really, truly didn’t care about anything, except perhaps her incarcerated boyfriend and the problems he might cause them after he was paroled.
“Just some new gossip. How deep can you dig into this guy?”
“Deep as you want.”
“How about prior places of employment?”
“Give me a day or two.”
Simon drove to Charlottesville to meet Landy for lunch.
She was appearing before a grand jury there and wasting the day, in her opinion.
In her spare time, and Simon reminded her repeatedly that in his world there was no such thing as “spare time,” she had put together profiles of about forty hospital employees, with no red flags. Oscar Kofie was not one of them.
They were eating outdoors on the downtown pedestrian mall, under the shade of an oak, with dozens of other young professionals, shop owners, office employees, students, and tourists.
It was a splendid day. Simon was eating with a pretty lady, one he had known in every way since they were twenty-three years old.
As fine as the moment should have been, he found it impossible to enjoy anything about it.
“You look miserable,” she said.
“Well, maybe prison does that to a person. Don’t know. Plus I got the letter from the state bar yesterday, yanking my license without so much as a hearing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that and I wish you’d stop.”
So she said nothing for a long time as they suffered in silence.
He hardly touched his food and finally said, “I’m spending twelve hours a day digging online.
I have piles of research, most of it useless.
I’ve gone back twenty years and tried to find every murder-by-poison case in the country.
There are about twenty a year, confirmed, but probably hundreds that go undetected. I need more help from the FBI.”
“I’m doing all I can, Simon, and I’ll do whatever is possible.”
“The FBI collects more crime data than any other agency, but many cases go unreported and fall through the cracks.”
“A lot of crime in this country.”
“I know. Is it possible to go behind the published statistics? Is there more data that the FBI doesn’t publish, for whatever reason?”
“You’re talking about poisonings, right?”
“What else?”
“Don’t snap at me. I’m on your side, remember?”
“Sorry. Yes, murder by poison.”
“I don’t know, but why would we, the FBI, hide those statistics?”
Simon took a deep breath and didn’t answer. He tried two bites of a pan-fried trout and put down his fork. “I know I’m being difficult.”
“Not at all, Simon. I’m trying to understand.”
“It’s just that we expect miracles out of the FBI and I know that’s not realistic. But I have a hacker pal who’s finding more stuff than the FBI.”
“Hacking is a crime. We can’t go in without a warrant.”
“I know.”
“Are you violating the law?”
He laughed and said, “Who cares? I’m fifty-eight days away from prison. Indict me! Convict me! Hell, give me the needle.”
“Not so loud, Simon.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Just hang on, okay?”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I know, I know.”
At four-thirty that afternoon, Simon walked into an Avis car rental office in Pentagon City near Reagan National.
Three women worked the counter, one of them was Matilda Clark.
She wore a smart navy pantsuit uniform with Avis above the right pocket and her new name, Maddie, above the left.
It fit her nicely. He wore a cap and sunglasses, got in line, and sort of hid behind the large man in front of him.
When it was his turn, he yanked off the cap and sunglasses, leaned on the counter, and was face-to-face with Tillie. She appeared as though she might faint.
“Hello, Matilda,” he said in a low voice. “Oops, I see it’s ‘Maddie’ now.”
She was still struggling to speak and glancing nervously around.
“Don’t worry. I need to rent a car. No problems from me.”
She pecked her keyboard as if just doing her job, gained some composure, and asked, “What do you want?”
“A drink after work. Down the street at O’Malley’s. Five P.M.?”
“Sure,” she said with a smile. “Make it five-thirty.”
“Okay, please be there and don’t run. I know where your apartment is in Fredericksburg. Unit 614. And I know where your roomie hangs out these days. The FBI is watching him.”
Her mouth fell open as he turned and left.
At five-thirty, Tillie walked into O’Malley’s and Simon waved her over to his booth. They had a lot to talk about, not that she was planning on saying much. He sipped a beer as a waiter took her order for a diet soda.
“What, no asparagus smoothie?” he joked but it fell flat.
If she had been rattled to see him, that had now passed. She was unmoved and quite collected. “Why are you here, Simon?”
“Just passing through. I’m looking for the person who poisoned Eleanor Barnett, Tillie, because I damned sure didn’t do it.”
“And you’ve found me. You think I did it?”
“That thought crossed my mind. In fact, when I found out that you were shacking up with Jerry I got real suspicious. But if I’ve learned anything lately, it’s not to assume too much.”
“Why did you hide her will from me?”
“Because I got greedy and wanted her money, and to get it I had to draft a lopsided will that gave me complete control of her estate and assets. And I didn’t want you to know about it because you’re a good, honest, decent person who would have questioned me over such a will.
I didn’t want a fight. I wanted the money.
My marriage was falling apart. I was sick of the office and its overhead.
And Eleanor Barnett was my way out.” He slugged some beer and wiped his mouth with a sleeve. “There. Is that honest enough for you?”
“I suppose.”
“Let’s be honest, Tillie. Cut the crap. I’ve been convicted and I’m headed to prison, so I can afford to be brutally honest. I didn’t poison Eleanor.”
“That makes two of us.”
They studied each other for a long time, neither daring to blink. Simon took a sip, wiped his mouth, and asked, “When did you first get suspicious?”
“Three days after she signed the will you typed. Then you lied to me and tried to cover up. You’re not a deceitful person, Simon, and a lousy liar.
You were sneaking around, taking her to lunch, ingratiating yourself.
I knew what was going on. Then we did the living will that gave you full control.
The cremation angle was a nice touch. Face it, Simon, there was plenty of red flags. ”
“Well, my jury certainly thought so, didn’t they?”
“They did.”
“And you agree with them? You think I’m guilty?”
“No, I don’t. I was very suspicious, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“I know you too well. I watched you in the courtroom and I saw a man who was bewildered by the accusations, a man who would never harm another person.”
Her soda arrived and she ignored it. Simon drained his beer and ordered another. They stared across the table for a long time, both wanting to believe the other.
Finally, he asked, “How did Jerry enter the picture?”
“Is that really any of your business?”
“Let’s say it is.”
“Simple enough. He stopped by the office one day when you were gone. He called a week later and we had a drink. One thing led to another. He’s had his ups and downs with romance. I certainly have.”
“He doesn’t seem like your type.”
“What is my type, Simon? I’ve tried them all.” She managed to smile.
“You want advice from me? I can’t remember the last time I made a smart decision. Got a question.”
“I’m an open book.”
“December thirtieth, the day she died. I called the funeral home to come get her, but an anonymous caller alerted the Braxton police. The cremation was stopped. I’m assuming that call was made by you.”
Her jaws clenched slightly and she glanced away. Dead guilty.
“Why did you do it, Tillie? I’m being perfectly honest with you, so return the favor.”
“Jerry wanted me to do it. He wanted an autopsy. By then Teddy Hammer was calling the shots and he was very suspicious of you.”
“And the fact that you, and Jerry, stopped the cremation is pretty clear proof that you didn’t poison Eleanor. Otherwise, no one would have ever known, and I would not be facing prison.”
“We didn’t do it, Simon, I swear we didn’t.”
“Nor did I, regardless of what the jury said.”
“So, who killed her?”
He rubbed his temples, then shook his head. “If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t you, then I don’t know. I suspect someone entered her hospital room after she’d been there a few days. You know how casual hospitals are. Doctors, nurses, and staff come and go at all hours.”
“An inside job?”
Simon would only say so much. She would repeat everything to Jerry.
“Possibly. Why did Jerry sue me?”
“I begged him not to, told him you were broke. But Hammer said it had to be done.”
“I’m worse than broke.”
“Can I help?”
“Hell no. The last thing I need is for you trying to get involved. Just leave it alone. Things are bad enough and you’re sleeping with the enemy.”