Authors: Chris Grabenstein
Up goes Ceepak's quizzical eyebrow. “How so?”
“David wanted me to spy on his dad. Feed him medical information. I refused. Michael? He just flashed a lot of cash. Showered his father with gifts he either didn't want or couldn't use. Michael's filthy rich. Does all those âCrime And Punishment' shows. âCrime And Punishment New York,' âCrime And Punishment Chicago, Hawaii, San Francisco, Wherever.' He makes like fifty million dollars a year. I saw it in
People
magazine. He's the one who sent Monae to Dr. Rosen's house. Apparently, he owed her sister, a woman named Raven ⦔
“Revae,” I say.
Kochman shrugs. “Whatever. Michael owed this Revae a favor so he insisted that Dr. Rosen hire Monae to work the night shift.”
“Let's go back to David and his wife, Judith,” says Ceepak. “What happened after you refused to feed them information?”
“They accused me of stealing Dr. Rosen's solid gold cufflinks.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not.” She holds up her arms. “I wear a uniform every day. No cuffs. Look, guys, Dr. Rosen was still with-it, but he was also old and cufflinks are small. He forgets where he put things.”
“Did you protest the accusations?”
“I said I didn't do it, if that's what you mean. But let's be honest here: When you're a home health aide, it's not like you're in a union or even a regular employee. Don't call the IRS, but a lot of these families pay us off the books. When the person paying you says you're fired, trust me, detectives, you're fired.”
“So Dr. Rosen fired you?”
“That's what David said. Dr. Rosen, himself, was taking a nap at the time.”
“Did you meet your replacement?” I ask. “Christine Lemonopolous.”
“Nope. And I didn't want to. I figured the only reason she was hired was because she said yes to everything I'd said no to. Later, after I landed this job with the Silberblatts, I asked around. Talked to a few friends. Got a pretty good picture of who this Lemonopolous girl was and what she'd do to make money.”
“Care to enlighten us?” says Ceepak.
“Word is, she went nuts. Quit her high-paying job in the emergency room at Mainland Medical. She's been scrounging around ever since, getting by with home health aide work. My friend Beatrice told me that this Lemonopolous gal worked for some sick rich kid at night in exchange for room and board. For cash, she did days with whatever old person she could bamboozle into thinking she was a sweetie-pie. Maybe it's a coincidence, but all the old people who hired this Christine Lemonopolous didn't live too long after she went to work in their homes. Most made it two months, maybe three. Just long enough to write her into their will.”
“Dr. Rosen did that,” I mumble. “Bequeathed her fifty thousand dollars.”
“I rest my case. I'm surprised you guys caught her. Nobody else ever asked any questions because, from what I heard, she only takes jobs that are, basically, death watches. It's a pretty nifty little plan, if, you know, you don't have any scruples or a conscience.”
Ceepak and I both nod grimly. Because, face it, neither one of us really, truly knows what makes Christine Lemonopolous tick. What kind of thoughts she harbors in her heart. We just wanted to help her when she was in a jam.
We might've also helped her get away with murder.
43
M
EANS
,
OPPORTUNITY
,
MOTIVE
.
Christine had all three.
Provided, of course, she knew how to get her hands on some potassium cyanide.
“We need to chat with Christine again,” says Ceepak.
“What about Revae Dunn?” I ask.
“I think it's more important that we speak with Christine. Immediately.”
“Should I set it up?”
Okay. I'm stalling. I'm half-hoping Ceepak will say something like, “
Ah, let's forget this one. Arnold Rosen was going to die anyhow and Christine is cute. So let's go grab a beer and ask Christine to join us
.”
But he doesn't.
“Please do,” he says. “And Danny?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it's worth, I will be greatly surprised if these rumors and accusations prove to be true. I suspect Christine is the unfortunate victim of idle gossip.”
Okay. That makes me feel a little better.
Until I call Christine.
“Hey,” I say when she answers the phone.
“Hey.” She doesn't sound very cheery.
“You busy?”
“Sort of.”
“Ceepak and I need to talk to you again.”
“Danny?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are all these people calling me?”
“What people?”
“Let's see. The Bollendorfs. The Crabtrees. Janet Malone. Addie Galloway. All the people whose parents I worked for before I went to work for Dr. Rosen.”
“Well ⦔
“Did you really ask Jodi Bollendorf if her dad died âunder mysterious circumstances?'”
I sigh into the phone. “It's my job, Christine.”
“To do what? Ruin my life?”
“No. Find out the truth.”
“I'm telling you the truth.”
“Yes. I think you are.”
“You
think
I am?”
Okay. Bad choice of words.
“Can you swing by the police station and talk to us?” I say. “Or, if you like, we can come back to my apartment and ⦔
She cuts me off. “The police station.”
“Great. Say in half an hour?”
“No. My lawyer can't be there till three.”
“Your lawyer?”
“Harvey Nussbaum.”
“You hired a lawyer?”
“It is her right to consult with an attorney,” says Ceepak, who's, of course, listening to my side of the conversation. “And to have that attorney present during questioning.”
Great. My partner's giving
me
the Miranda warning.
“Okay,” I say. “Three o'clock. Bring Harvey.”
“Danny?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought we were ⦔
“What?”
“Never mind.”
And she hangs up in my ear.
44
S
O
,
WE HAVE A FEW HOURS TO TRACK DOWN
R
EVAE
D
UNN
.
She works as the office manager at a place called “The Garden State Reproductive Science Center,” about half a mile away from Mainland Medical in Avondale.
It's a very medical-looking building. Lots of dark windows and sterile stucco walls. The islands of grass sprinkled around the asphalt parking lot look like they get manicured instead of mowed. As we pull into a visitor parking spot, I notice that Michael has been even more generous to Revae Dunn than her sister.
In a parking slot “Reserved For Office Manager,” I see a bright red Jaguar XKR convertible. Those kitty cats cost over a hundred thousand dollars. That's right. More than some houses.
“Michael Rosen sure likes the Dunn sisters,” I mumble as we climb out of Ceepak's car, which, all of a sudden, doesn't seem all that super dooper any more.
“Indeed,” says Ceepak, admiring the convertible. “And judging by their vehicles, I believe Revae is his favorite.”
Revae Dunn agrees to talk to us.
“For five minutes. We're very busy.”
We're in her nice, gray-on-gray-carpeted office. She's dressed in a crisply starched linen business suit the color of a dove. Her hair is perfectly coiffed. Her earrings match her necklace, which matches her bracelet. The woman has style.
“Ms. Dunn,” says Ceepak, “given your rigid time constraints, kindly allow me to be blunt: Why did the wealthy Hollywood producer Michael Rosen buy you a Jaguar convertible worth well over one hundred thousand dollars?”
“Who said he did?”
“Me. We know that Dr. Rosen also purchased a car for your sister Monae and, at your insistence, procured her a position as a home health aide at Dr. Arnold Rosen's home in Sea Haven.”
“Who are you again?”
“John Ceepak. Chief of Detectives. Sea Haven PD. This is my partner, Detective Boyle.”
Revae Dunn glances at her wristwatch.
“I believe we still have four more minutes,” says Ceepak.
“Look, detectives. What we do here at this clinic needs to be treated with the utmost confidentiality.”
“You haven't answered my question. Why has Michael Rosen been so generous to you and your sister?”
“I asked him to look after Monae as a favor to me. She's fifteen years younger than I am. Mom and Dad called her their âwhoops baby.' I suppose I tend to mother-hen her. Anyway, a year or so ago, she was drifting. Living with me or our brother. She had no direction or goals. Finally, I encouraged Monae to take a class and obtain her home health aide license. It took a lot of effortâon my part and hers, but she did it. She was qualified to start a real career with a potential for growth. However, that did not mean her struggles were over. Like many young women of color, she had trouble finding employment. So I lent her a hand. Used my connections.”
“With the Rosens?”
“That's right.”
“And so we come back to my original question: Why has Michael Rosen been so generous and helpful to you and your family?”
“Because we, here at the clinic, have been extremely helpful to him and his family.”
“How so?”
“Dr. Rosen's only grandson. Michael's sole nephew. We had a hand in that. Fifteen years ago, Dr. Rosen paid for his daughter-in-law to undergo certain fertility treatments.”
“Were you here at the time?”
“Yes. Judith Rosen and her husband, I believe his name is David ⦔
“That's correct.”
“They had been trying to get pregnant with no success for several years. Judith was rapidly approaching her fortieth birthday.”
“So her biological clock was ticking.”
“Very loudly. Plus, her father-in-law, Dr. Rosen, desperately wanted grandchildren. So, after several unsuccessful but costly attempts at other fertility clinics, the Rosens ended up here.”
“These sorts of treatments, they're quite expensive?”
“They can be. In Vitro Fertilization. Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection. Therapeutic Donor Insemination. Controlled Ovarian Hyperstimulation. Frozen Embryo Transfer.”
Man. Making babies never sounded so un-sexy.
“Each of these procedures can cost several thousand dollars.”
“And Judith's father-in-law paid for it all?”
Revae Dunn finally cracks a smile. “What can I say? The man wanted a grandbaby.”
“And Michael gave you a Jaguar, found your sister a job and gave her a Z-car, just to say thanks for helping his sister-in-law give birth to his only nephew?”
“Michael Rosen is an extremely generous individual.”
“Then why didn't he pay for the treatments?”
“Excuse me?”
“If Michael Rosen wanted a nephew so badly, why didn't he pay for all the procedures? Surely he could've afforded the costs much more easily than either his father or older brother.”
Revae Dunn's left eye twitches. Twice. She glances at her watch again.
“I don't know,” she says. “You'll have to ask him. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me.”
And she shows us the door.
“She's lying,” I say the second we're back in the parking lot.
“Actually,” says Ceepak, “I don't believe she told us any lies. However, that does not mean she has told us the entire truth.”
“So now what?”
“I want to check in with Bill Botzong. See how we're doing on the cyanide search.”
“And then?”
“Let's head back to Williamsville. Spend a little more time with Revae's sister.”
“You think Monae knows the whole story of what went on here?”
“Doubtful. But I am certain she will be able to shed some more light on the Rosen family dynamics.”
Yeah. Like why Michael was so excited about having a nephew he gave everybody involved in the process of bringing Little Arnie into the world a flashy new carâexcept, of course, the baby's parents.
45
C
EEPAK LETS ME DRIVE THE
B
ATMOBILE SO HE CAN MAKE A QUICK
call to Bill Botzong.
There's nothing new to report on the cyanide front, but “they're making progress” and have initiated contact with all the major suppliers.
“They're focusing on those merchants with Internet sales sites,” Ceepak tells me. “Most likely that is where our killer made his or her purchase, hoping for a measure of anonymity.”
He's right. People think they can erase their on-line tracks by clearing their computer's web browser memory.
They can't.
There's always a nice trail of cookies for us to follow.
Monae offers us a cold Coke and a whole tube of Oreos.
“I'm rich,” she says. “Don't have to drink that cheap Sam's Cola from Wal-Mart anymoreâor their Great Value âTwist And Shout' sandwich cookies. Can you believe Arnie left me fifty thousand dollars? From now on, boys, it's Coca-Cola and Double Stuff Oreos for Monae Dunn.”
“That pretty awesome,” I say. “But some people might think Dr. Rosen's generous bequest gave you a motive to murder him.”
“Well, those people might also be stupid. You add up everything Michael has given me and my sister over the past year, fifty thousand dollars is what Dr. Rosen used to call bupkis. Chump change.”
“Indeed,” says Ceepak since I just set him up with a lob shot. “Why
was
Michael so generous to you and your sister Revae? Especially this last year?”
Monae gives us a sassy smile. “Because we're good people.”
“Seriously,” I say. “Why did he give you and your sister such cool cars?”
“I don't know. Maybe because we were nice to his father. See, Michael's all the way out there in L.A. It made him feel good to know that somebody with half a heart was looking after his dad.”