Murder, She Muttered

Chapter 2

"That was the most idiotic moment in a lifetime of idiotic moments," Carol stormed.

We were home. My home, which was a condo in the nicest part of downtown with underground, security camera'd parking, a doorman, an elevator that needed a keycode and safety out the yin yang.

Carol's house was residential, not gated, and currently home to a few stalwart reporters who were lying in wait to shout nasty questions in the hopes of getting emotional answers that would sell content.

Carol had become a headline, not a human.

"There was nothing idiotic about it." I unpacked my shopping bag, piling the Chinese take-out containers on the coffee table. "If you tell the truth from the beginning, chances are there's nowhere they'll find to go. And you know I haven't seen or spoken to our father in years."

"I know." She slumped down on the couch next to me. "Pass the beef broccoli. Abby, I don't know how to handle this. Our father is dead and that's disturbing enough. But someone killed him and used a chemo drug to do it, which means they framed me. Who else would have access to Herceptin?"

"Any pharmacist in town," I volunteered. "Or a nurse. Or a candy striper volunteering at a hospital. You're not the only one."

"I'm not," she agreed. She fished out a piece of beef with a fork and ate it slowly. I used the cheap chopsticks that came with the food and dug into the chow mein. "But," she said, pointing her fork at me, "I'm the only one with cause."

"Don't know about that." I put the chow mein down and pulled out an egg roll. "He might have been sleeping with a nurse. Or an oncologist. You know what he was like. In fact," I said warming up to the idea, "he probably was sleeping with a colleague of yours in the hopes of getting under your skin."

"Not a very effective way to do it if I knew nothing about it. Give me an egg roll. Anyway, he was engaged."

"Right." I wiped my greasy fingers and sat back. I'd read about his engagement and Mom had certainly mentioned it a few hundred times. For someone who claimed not to care what her ex-husband was up to, she was obsessive.

"What does your mother say?" I liked Carol's mother. Sometimes I liked her a lot more than my mother although deep where I hid my secrets, the truth was that I loved my mother crazy. She was my constant, my cheerleader, my devoted parent. Charles Forrester was a rich guy who liked falling in love again and again. My mother was wife number three, mother of daughter number two and heart-broken because the man she adored fell out of love with her and bad things happened when he did.

"Mom hasn't said much, you know what she's like. She's threatening to call upon the ghosts of all ancestors past to rein terror on the Metro police."

"A bunch of genteel Southern women raining a volley of 'bless your hearts' on our police force. Terrifying."

Carol smiled. "It is lacking a bit in substance. But then, so is Mom so what can I say?"

"Did you ever meet the fiancée?"

Carol shook her head no and picked up a food container. "We haven't, hadn't, been on the best terms for a little while."

That was news to me and I sat forward. "I didn't know that."

"Abbie, it wasn't anything important. Just Himself being Himself, you know. He was all into his new love affair, being condescending about my life choices. We didn't fight, we never fought. I just stopped trying to connect. I figured after he married his woman, he'd mellow out and reach out. He was pretty standard in his responses, you know that."