Chapter 16
The message of the Seven of Wands is clear: it is time to stand up for yourself. You can handle any challenges that come your way.
CAL
“You seem to throw up and faint a lot.” Laura hands me a Diet Coke.
“Always have. I have a weak stomach and chronic hypoglycemia. You should have seen me in med school. The attending made me carry a barf bag every time I rounded with her. My stint in the ER was a nightmare—for me and the patients I threw up on. It’s one of the reasons I decided to go into Psychiatry. No bloody gaping wounds, no bones protruding through skin, no dragging a needle through lacerated flesh.” I shudder just thinking about those med school memories.
We are now seated in Room B, since Room C was being thoroughly cleaned by a HazMat team. Detective Bizzell is in the locker room showering.
“Laura, that photograph…oh my god, that was horrible. I’ve avoided listening to or reading reports about Paul’s death because Marci said it was gruesome. Was it really my shoe that…”
Laura speaks softly. “DNA tests confirm it is your shoe. It is your fingerprints on the cup and wine bottle on Paul’s coffee table. Your prints on the bag of cyanide that was found at the scene.”
“That’s impossible. I have never been to Paul’s house. Never.”
“It gets worse. One of your colleagues from the college claims he heard you threatening to kill Paul the morning of the murder.”
Shit. Rolf. “That part is true. I was angry.”
Laura raised her eyebrows. “The police received an anonymous tip Friday morning that a person of your description was seen leaving Paul’s house at 4:00 a.m. that morning. A car with your license plate number was parked in his driveway from midnight to 4:00 a.m. They are trying to locate the witness now.
“That is definitely not true. I was not at Paul’s house Friday night.”
“Then think—who would want to plant evidence and frame you?”
“Frame me? Nobody! That’s ridiculous.”
“Cal, either you killed Paul, or someone is framing you. Those are the only two explanations for the presence of your DNA at the crime scene. Tell me about your divorce. Was it amicable?”
“Absolutely not. Same old story: boy and girl fall in love. Boy cheats, girl finds out, girl lays down an ultimatum, boy leaves and sets up house with his lover.
“I was devastated.” I sigh and look down. “I sort of got a little off center and threatened Paul. I stalked him and the girlfriend.”
I continue in a low voice. “Tossed a few rocks through his window. Egged his Jag.”
Laura looks surprised.
“I created a scene at the girlfriend’s workplace, and she filed a restraining order. That’s when I tried to kill myself.
“Look, I am not proud of how I handled myself six years ago. I acted impulsively and immaturely. I am horrified by my past actions. Ironically, that experience is what put me on the spiritual path that I follow today. I faced my inner demons, and let me tell you, they were nasty. In the end, it was the catalyst that changed my life.
“I realized I have the power to create my own destiny and everything that happens to me actually happens for me—to further me on the path to enlightenment. I wrote a few books that turned out to be very popular and I have created my dream life.”
“What about this real estate deal gone bad between you and Paul?”
“I found a piece of land in East Atlanta off Moreland Avenue 10 years ago. I convinced Paul it would be valuable one day, so we bought it together. When we divorced, it was an asset we forgot to divvy up. When Paul wanted to buy out my share, I just signed the papers my attorney sent to me.
“I never dreamed Paul would deceive me. I know, stupid of me since that wasn’t the first time he’d been dishonest. He cheated on me once, why did I think he wouldn’t do it again?”
Laura closes her notebook, snaps the cap onto her Mont Blanc, and stores both in her briefcase. “The police have all the evidence they need to indict you for Paul’s murder. How fast can you get your hands on $100,000 for a cash bond?”
“A hundred thousand dollars? Do you think they are going to arrest me?”
“They are preparing the indictment now. Detectives Chan and Bizzell cross their Ts and dot their Is. They don’t bring a suspect in for questioning until they have enough to get an indictment. We’ll be going to the arraignment shortly and I know the judge won’t approve anything under a million dollars for capital murder. You must put up 10% of that in cash as bonds and surrender your passport. I’m confident I can get you released until trial.”
Indictment? TRIAL?
“How liquid are your assets?”
What the f….
Detective Bizzell opens the door, dressed in a clean shirt and khakis. “Ladies, it’s show time. Vamanos.”
She is grinning like a Cheshire cat.