Chapter 21
“Aformal complaint was lodged,” Sondra said. Her fingers tapped the keys. “According to our investigation, everything looks in order.”
“What was the issue?” I asked.
“According to the complaint, Rachel Van Cleef alleged Sheila had given her mother, Lois, an overdose of medication that ended her life. Rachel was out of town when her mother passed. Her brother, who was taking care of Lois at the house, denied the allegation. Investigators checked the logs and dosing schedule. They found nothing out of order. Granted, those logs are self-reported, and there is no oversight during in-home hospice care. Of course, all medications are tracked by the pharmacy.”
"Was an autopsy done?"
"Lois Van Cleef was 97 years old,” she said flatly. “No, Deputy. An autopsy was not done."
"Wouldn't be hard to save up medication, log it in the charts, then give one big dose to fade Lois into oblivion."
"Greg Van Cleef says he was with his mother the entire time and monitored Sheila's actions. He said nothing inappropriate was done. It's Greg’s word against Rachel's. Now you’re telling me that Sheila is deceased. It's a moot point, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is. But it could be a motive for murder."
"A pretty weak one if you ask me, but people will kill you as soon as look at you these days." She sighed. “As far as we’re concerned, our investigation will close. Good luck with yours.”
I thanked her for the information and ended the call. I planned on having a word with Rachel Van Cleef at some point. What could it hurt?
We headed up to Oyster Avenue and grabbed lunch at Mango Tango. Jack ordered the spicy shrimp tacos with pineapple slaw and a mango cream sauce. I went with the grilled swordfish with mango salsa and coconut rice.
Afterward, we drove back to Stingray Bay to have a word with Ivy's mother. She lived two streets over from the shooting on Windswept Court.
JD and I rang the bell, and Mrs. Rourke answered the door a moment later. I flashed my badge and made introductions. A grim frown tensed her face, and she invited us inside.
It was easy to see where Ivy had gotten her good looks. In her early 40s, Mrs. Rourke was an attractive blonde with short, stylish hair, a trim figure, and elegant features.
She escorted us across the vaulted foyer, into the sprawling living room, and offered us a seat on the sofa. We obliged, and she took a chair catty-corner to us. Megan grabbed a tissue from the box on the glass coffee table. Already starting to tear up, she blotted her ice-blue eyes.
The furnishings were sleek and modern. Walls were decorated with pastel abstracts. It had a cozy but modern vibe. Like many of the homes in Stingray Bay, there was a nice patio and a pool. Floor-to-ceiling glass window walls offered a view of the canal beyond.
"Do you have any idea who did this?” she asked with a shaky voice.
"We are in the process of running down several leads," I said. "Did Ivy have any enemies? Anyone at school she was at odds with?”
Megan shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of. But you should talk to Casey.”
I gave her a look that begged her to continue.
"Her best friend. I was close with Ivy, but I'm sure there were things she told Casey that she told no one else.”
“I’ll need contact info for her.”
“Certainly.”
"You live here alone?"
Her face tightened, and tears spilled over. It was probably a bad question to ask. “I do now. Ivy's father is deceased. He passed away two years ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that.” She didn’t go into detail, but curiosity got the best of me.
She continued, her eyes welling again. “Helicopter crash in the mountains in Colorado. Poor visibility. They should never have gone up that day.”
I gave a sympathetic frown and offered condolences again. “What about jealous ex-boyfriends?”
Megan shook her head. “Ivy didn’t have time for boyfriends. Too busy with school, her friends, and computers.”
“Computers?”
“She was on that thing 24/7, trading crypto, programming, playing games.”
“Do you know how much crypto she had?” JD asked.
“Oh, I wouldn’t even begin to know.” With skepticism, she asked. “Is that really anything? Seems like a Ponzi scheme to me.”
JD shrugged. “Fastest-growing asset class.”
“Tulip mania, if you ask me.”
“I’m sure the answer is no,” I said. “But did Ivy ever use drugs?”
Megan looked at me like the notion was absurd. “Lord, no. Ivy was a good kid. Straight A’s. She was too smart to get involved in something like that.”
“Of course.” I took a deep breath. “Well, we won’t take up any more of your time.” I gave her a card. “Please get in touch if you think of anything that might be helpful.”
She nodded, then texted me Casey’s contact info.
Megan escorted us to the door, then pleaded with a tormented face, “Please find the people who killed my baby.”
“We will,” I assured her before expressing our condolences once again.
We left and strolled the walkway back to the Porsche. JD and I planned on talking to Rachel Van Cleef and Casey Monroe next, but my phone buzzed with a call that would send us on a detour.