Chapter Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The elder Dorrios and Emil complained loudly as a trio, demanding to know what this was all about.
Admittedly, Room One-Twenty-Seven was a tight fit with all the people in it. And it took maneuvering to get certain individuals situated the way we wanted.
The Dorrios trio was on one side of the bed, along with Clara and me. Olive and Payloma were opposite, then Dova, and the hospice people. Robbie, Mamie, and Alan remained by the foot of the bed, close to the door.
Deputies were out of sight, but nearby. Including two in the bathroom, with the door locked. In case anyone got an urge.
Rose cut through the Dorrio noise. “I’m on duty. I don’t have time for this—”
“We’ll get right to it, then.” Have to admit, I enjoyed interrupting her. “When Derrick Dorrio died, why did you call the landline at the Dorrios’ house — Dova and Robbie’s — instead of Dova’s cell?”
“I didn’t call them. Sally—” She tipped her head toward the aide. “—did. I was making another call.”
To her assistant coroner friend, no doubt.
Before I could ask anything, Sally volunteered, “It was the only number in the records.”
Beverly said, “So what if it was the only number on the records?”
“It’s part of a pattern.”
“What pattern?” Beverly demanded, suspicious.
I sidestepped.
“Let’s go back and break this down. There were two possibilities.” I felt a tautness from those in the room, but not specific to any one person. “Either one person killed both Jaylynn and Derrick or different people killed them.”
Before Emil’s smirk could become words, I kept going. “If different people killed them, the motive for killing Derrick certainly seemed connected to his conviction for killing Jaylynn.”
“My girl, my girl,” Olive moaned.
“But looking into Jaylynn’s murder was harder because of the time lapse — memories fade, landscapes reshape, and beliefs harden. As for Derrick’s death, that posed other challenges. Especially opportunity, because Kentucky Manor doesn’t curtail visitors to their hospice patients.”
“People come and go,” Sally said with some cheer. “It can be hard on our routines, but people come to be with their loved one as they can.”
I nodded. “Exactly. For example, the night before Derrick’s death — twenty-four hours or more before — there were people in and out. We know Beverly, Dova, and Robbie were here. That’s not to say any of the rest of you weren’t.”
Denials gushed into the air.
“And—” I said loudly enough to crest the noise. “There’s nothing to say that any one of you couldn’t have come back the next night, being careful not to be seen.”
I did not mention that we knew for sure Robbie had been here. It would raise him as a suspect, which would require an explanation of his efforts to hide Dova’s prescription pills and how that indicated he hadn’t been involved in his father’s death.
The shortcut was to not mention it.
“After a dry run the night before, they’d know the routine and the lay of the land better,” Clara said.
“Very true.”
The others glared at her, which gave me a moment’s respite from being the eye-target.
They all had motives or we wouldn’t have brought them here. They all had opportunity. That left means.
“It’s natural for any of you to want to see him.”
I aimed for a sympathetic tone and didn’t point out the Carnells’ reason for wanting to see him wouldn’t have been positive. Possibly Evan Ferguson’s either.
Call me Ms. Tactful.
“Bringing him flowers or something special to eat—”
“He couldn’t really eat,” Sally said. “Still swallow, but—”
“Sally,” Rose said.
I continued before she could completely quiet the aide. “Or a special blanket, a pillow, a—”
“I brought him both,” Beverly said. “And flowers. No one else brought a thing.”
She glared at Dova, Robbie, then Emil.
He rose to the bait. “Hey, I stuck by him all those years. Going to see him in prison. So what I didn’t bring him a bouquet?”
“You went to rub it in that you were free and he wasn’t,” Dova said.
“Then came to us like you cared, but actually sucking up in hopes of getting in our will,” Beverly said.
Yale’s mouth opened in surprise. Really? He hadn’t considered that?
Emil looked indifferent.
“You said the prison called you when they couldn’t reach Dova. Why was that?”
“How should I know. Trust me, it wasn’t because I wanted them to.”
Okay, I wasn’t going to get him to say it was because the only number the prison — or Derrick, I’d bet — had was the seldom-used landline. I’d have liked the added confirmation, but pushed on.
“Emil, tell us about going to dinner with Derrick the night Jaylynn was killed.”
“We went to dinner. We came back to town. What’s there to tell?”
“You said he’d earlier told you he wanted to make his marriage with Jaylynn work.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Was it the truth?’
“That he said it? Yeah.” He sounded bored. “What difference does it make—?”
“And then you two went to dinner that night. Was that your idea?”
“No. Derrick said—” His boredom flushed away. He jerked his head toward a corner of the room. “He said she told him to go to dinner with me.”
“She—” Several voices started.
I spoke over them. “What about the receipt, Emil?”
“The receipt?”
“From that dinner.” I tried hard to keep the man’s an idiot impatience out of my voice.
“I kept it. He said— Hey. Hey, that’s right. He said she said to keep it. And she asked me about it later, too.”
“You’re only remembering that now, you prime idiot—” Beverly caught her anger in clenched fists. “So she tried to give Derrick an alibi by making sure Emil kept the receipt, but—”
“After the fact, to help my husband,” Dova said. “I didn’t know what he planned.”
Beverly wasn’t having it. “—you didn’t make it stick and stopped trying, handing him over when all the time it was you .”
Clearly Olive and Payloma hadn’t previously followed the breadcrumbs of suspicion as fast as Beverly. Both gasped and spun to Dova, chorusing. “You?”
“Her,” Beverly insisted.
Yale joined Beverly with, “I knew it.”
Payloma said. “You stole Derrick and you shot Jaylynn. You—”
“Killed my son,” Beverly said.
Because, as Clara and I had imaginatively sketched for Quebec Ferguson, Derrick had suspected or recognized Dova’s guilt in the murder of Jaylynn. If we could get her to say it. The others didn’t appear to need proof.
“My girl,” Olive wailed. “You... you—”
Emil said with some admiration mixed in, “You crafty—”
“Bitch ,” Payloma finished for him and her mother.
Neither set of in-laws looked at Robbie.
I’d stationed myself to block the sightline between Dova and him.
Mamie put her hand in his.
Clara moved toward the door.
Rose shifted in that direction, subtly herding Sally in front of her.
I made eye contact with Alan. He gave a slight nod, put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder and steered him toward Clara and the door.
“Robbie,” Dova said.
He balked a moment, but Alan didn’t release his shoulder. Rose and Sally blocked coming back into the room. Evan slid out next. Alan used that to steer the boy farther away.
Clara held the door, looking significantly at the Dorrios and Carnells.
Beverly pushed at Yale’s arm. “Let’s go. We can talk to Robbie.”
Payloma and Olive beat them out of the room, with Emil bringing up the rear.
Clara closed the door behind them.
Mamie had said that not having answers was tearing Robbie apart.
We could only hope now that having answers — even the horrible ones he’d gotten so far — would bring some kind of acceptance for him. Eventually.
For now, though, we weren’t done trying to get a few more answers from Dova.