Hangman's Root (29 page)

"What blackmail letter?"

I started. Cynthia had found the letter Kevin and/or Amy had written? Even before Rose ran across it?

Cynthia spoke with the air of an informed insider. "I don't know the details, of course, and I couldn't tell who wrote it. Anybody could have gotten on the computer. But it seems that Dr. Harwick did something ten years ago, and somebody found out about it and was threatening to make it public. When I read it, I knew I had to tell Dr. Castle. It upset him terribly. He went to talk to Dr. Harwick, and when he came back, he was absolutely shaking. I'd never seen him in such a state. It was about that time that we got another bomb threat. I knew I needed to do something, immediately. Dr. Harwick was making a mess out of everyone's lives."

So I'd been wrong. It wasn't Harwick who had told Castle about the blackmail letter. It had been Cynthia. She had started this whole thing.

Dottie made a noise, half sympathetic, and Cynthia looked gratified.

"I'm glad you understand," she said. "The hard part, of course, was deciding to do it. But I'm a fairly logical person, and once I'd decided that it was the only way to save Dr. Castle—the whole department, really—I just went through it, step by step. It wasn't difficult. And I didn't think I'd be found out. After all, secretaries are invisible." The bitterness again.

"Why hanging, though?" Dottie shuddered. "It seems pretty grisly."

"Poetic justice," Cynthia said. "All those poor guinea pigs, you know. And I thought hanging might make it look more like a suicide, which would take everybody off the hook." She paused. "But then I happened to find your hairbrush—"

"My hairbrush?"

"You left it in the ladies' restroom one afternoon when we

were both in there. I saw it lying on the counter, and it gave me an idea. I kn^v^ you had good reason to want Dr. Harwick dead. He was writing you those nasty Httle notes about your cats—"

"You knew about those.^"

Cynthia pulled herself up. "Of course. He was using the computer, wasn't he? Really, Dr. Riddle. You underestimate me. Anyway, I knew there was bad blood between you. If you weren't around, life would be a lot easier for Dr. Castle. So I took some hair out of your brush, and then used the master key to return the brush to your office. I'm sure you didn't even miss it."

"I didn't," Dottie said ruefully. She shook her head. "I can't believe you killed him and framed me.''

Cynthia sounded apologetic. "Well, I didn't actually think of it as framing you. I just thought that if for some reason the police didn't believe it was suicide, they'd want to suspect somebody, and I certainly didn't want that somebody to be me. But I got to worrying that the hair might not be enough, so I stopped by your house when you weren't there and left a length of the rope I planned to use on the shelf in your garage. And then I decided to use that euthanatizing drug you give your sick cats . . ." She paused. "From your point of view, I can see how you'd think I was framing you."

"It sounds like a good plan," Dottie said, "but carrying it out—"

"It wasn't easy," Cynthia admitted. "The hardest part was getting him up on the desk and into the noose. Believe me, I was glad he was such a little man." Her laugh was self-deprecating. "That's why I'm using a gun this time. I'm not fool enough to think I could get you into a noose, even though it'd be more convincing that way."

"But don't you see how crazy this is?" Dottie asked. "The police fell for your frame-up. They've already charged me with the murder Why don't you just let me take my chances with the jury?"

There was a sudden movement against my ankles, and I looked down, trying not to move my head. It was Ariella, rubbing. I pressed myself backward as far as I could, praying that the cat's movement wouldn't attract Cynthia's attention.

Cynthia's face had grown hard. "Unfortunately, that won't work," she said. "That drop-out friend of yours—the one who used to be a lawyer—found out about the insurance papers. She and the Campus Security chief came over to see Dr. Castle."

I breathed a sigh of relief as Ariella abandoned my leg and walked into the living room, the white tip of her orange tail waving like a pennant. I lost sight of her as she went behind Dottie's chair.

"What insurance papers?" Dottie sounded irritated. "Really, Cynthia, you're making this 5*0 complicated!"

"It doesn't matter. You don't have to know all the details. To make a long story short, China Bayles and Chief Dawson have come up with some very good reasons why Dr. Castle might have murdered Dr. Harwick. I'm afraid they'll get you off the hook, and I couldn't bear it lihe were charged with Dr. Harwick's murder. So you're going to type a note confessing to Dr. Harwick's death and saying that you're killing yourself because you don't want to stand trial. That way, people will forget about pursuing Dr. Castle and that silly insurance— Yeiii!"

All hell suddenly broke loose.

But it wasn't the devil, it was Ariella, who had jumped onto Cynthia's lap. It was a friendly move, but Cynthia didn't know that. She wasn't expecting a furry creature the size of a lion cub to suddenly catapult into her lap. Startled, she shoved Ariella onto the floor. Ariella hissed and bared her fangs. Cynthia pointed the gun at her. Her finger tightened as she took aim.

"No!" Dottie yelled. With her hammer-throwing arm, she grabbed a heavy glass ashtray off the table beside her chair and coldcocked Cynthia.

And that was the end of it. Cynthia fell sideways on the sofa, stunned, a sizable cut opened up at the hairline. Dottie scrambled to pick up Ariella and made crooning noises into her orange fur. I kicked the gun under the sofa, safely out of reach.

Seeing me, Dottie's eyes widened, then narrowed. "How long have you been here?" she demanded.

Cynthia moaned and put her hand to her head.

"Long enough to hear her full confession," I said.

Dottie was irate. "Really, China, you couldVe let me know you were there. I sat in that chair for a whole goddamned hour with a gun trained on me, thinking she was going to kill me! And she would've shot Ariella if I hadn't stopped her."

"I had to let her go through the whole thing, didn't I?" I asked defensively. "Anyway, it wasn't an hour, it was only ten minutes. Less than that, maybe. And Ariella isn't hurt."

Cynthia moaned again and put her hand to her forehead. Dottie turned on her. "And you've got your nerve," she scolded. "Trying to make it look like / was the one who killed Miles. Honestly, Cynthia, if I weren't a law-abiding citizen, I'd—"

"Dottie," I said, "just call the sheriff, okay?"

Dottie turned to look at me. "The sheriff? Shouldn't I call Chief Harris? He's the one who arrested me."

"No," I said firmly, "call the sheriff."

Somehow I thought it might be easier to explain all this to Blackie. It was his jurisdiction, anyway.

"Have another piece," I said, passing the plate. "There's plenty."

"What is it?" The Whiz asked, helping herself to a slice of the sweet tortelike cake. "Tastes pretty good."

"Castagnaccio," I said. "It's supposed to be made with chestnut flour and rosemary. But chestnuts don't grow around here and chestnut flour costs mucho dinero. I used ground pecans."

Ruby took a slice of pecan castagnaccio and handed the plate to Sheila. "China can give you the recipe," she told Justine.

The Whiz shuddered. For her, cooking is a fate worse than death. "No, thanks. I'll stick with Sara Lee." She frowned. "If you ask me, this Dottie business turned into a very complicated

case.

"A Riddle inside an enigma, you might say," Ruby remarked brightly. In unison, we gave an exaggerated groan.

"What I want to know," Sheila said, taking a slice of castagnaccio and passing the plate to me, "is exactly what Bubba Harris said when Sheriff Blackwell took Cynthia Leeds in."

I grinned. "No, you don't," I said. "It would blister your pretty shell-like ears." Sheila was wearing a yellow suit this afternoon (the day after Ariella jumped into Cynthia's lap), with a yellow-and-white polka-dotted blouse. I always thought blondes couldn't

wear yellow. I was wrong. "As far as Dottie was concerned," I added, "the operational words were 'charges dismissed.' Dottie's home with her cats to stay."

"And another seventeen guinea pigs," Ruby said. "As of this morning."

A look of distaste passed across The Whiz's face. "How many does that make?"

"God knows," I said. "Why are you asking? Would you like to adopt a hundred or so?" I put a piece of castagnaccio in my mouth. It was good. Maybe I had invented a new dish.

"A hundred guinea pigs? Me}'' The Whiz hastily poured herself another dry sherry—not exactly the drink to accompany an Italian sweet, but who cares?

Ruby turned to Sheila. "Now that the murder's cleared up, what's going to happen to Frank Castle? Will the university throw the book at him?"

Sheila leaned back, kicked off her dyed-to-match yellow pumps, and propped her pretty, pedicured feet up on my antique milking stool. Some women would kill for toenails like that.

"The whole thing's under discussion at the highest echelons," she said, "and probably will be for some time. Internal Audit confirmed that the embezzlement itself took place just over ten years ago. That's when Harwick talked Castle into the scheme."

"Says who?" The Whiz asked skeptically. "Says Castle, I'll bet. Good thing for him his partner isn't around to contradict him."

Sheila shrugged. "I talked to Long this morning. It was his impression that Harwick was the prime mover. Castle wasn't opposed, of course. Anyway, ten years ago is when they got Long to move the money out of the grant account."

"So it's outside the statute," I said. Khat came out of the bathroom, where he had been sitting on the counter, admiring himself in the mirror, and asked for dinner. It was five-thirty, so I got up

and went to the refrigerator to look for his chicken Hver.

"Maybe not," Sheila said. "They left the money in the Houston bank account for eighteen months or so, under the name of Blue Star Scientific Supply The university attorney says, technically speaking, that the crime itself wasn't committed until they transferred the Blue Star money into their own accounts. Which means that it's still within the statute. If so, the university will prosecute Castle."

"Will they?" The Whiz asked with heavy irony. "Are you sure?"

Sheila shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they will, maybe they won't."

"Maybe they'll take a plea," I said, still searching for Khat's chicken liver. There wasn't any. "Sorry, Khat," I said. "You'll have to settle for canned food."

The Whiz snorted. ''Might take a plea? Bet your boobs they'll take a plea. They'll never wash that dirty linen in open court. They'll seize as much of the money as they can get their hands on, revoke Castle's tenure, fire his ass, and sweep the whole mess under the nearest executive carpet. Then they'll give him his four stars and tell the world he retired early." She frowned. "What about Long?"

"He's offered to pay restitution," I said, putting the cat food—tuna and shrimp Gourmet Goodie—in front of Khat. "He doesn't want to be hauled up before his professional ethics committee."

"What about the fraudulent insurance papers?" Ruby asked. "What's the story there?"

Sheila sipped her sherry. "Apparently, Cynthia Leeds wasn't the only one who felt the need to cash Harwick out. Castle seems to have entertained the possibility of disposing of his troublesome partner—ex-partner—since last July, at least. Harwick really was an embarrassment to the department, not to mention a

serious threat to Castle. He thought he could call the shots, push everybody around, and Castle would protect him. But Castle was getting fed up. It must have seemed to him that if Harwick had to die, he might as well leave something useful behind."

"But Castle switched the insurance almost a year ago," I said. "Why didn't he kill Harwick right away?" I looked down. Khat was sitting in front of his Gourmet Goodie, staring at it, sulking. "That's all there is, Khat. Eat it or starve."

"He must have been waiting until the regents approved the animal lab," Sheila said. "And the university's insurance carrier won't pay the death benefit on a suicide unless the policy is over two years old. But Cynthia had no reason to wait. She didn't find out about the life insurance until she heard me tell Castle that we knew. That's when she learned about the original skulduggery, too. The embezzlement, I mean."

I pushed the saucer with my foot. "I know of a whole bunch of homeless kitties who would give their last whiskers for tuna and shrimp," I told Khat. He looked up at me, looked back down at his saucer, and leaned over to sniff, delicately. Deciding that he preferred Gourmet Goodie to starvation, he settled down to serious eating, with only occasional glances over his shoulder to let me know that he did bear a grudge. I went back to the table and poured myself the last of the sherry.

The Whiz propped her elbows on the table. "You know, it's that original theft that still puzzles me," she said thoughtfully. "Cosmetech gave that money to be used for an animal lab. The way I hear it. Castle and Harwick both wanted an animal lab in order to build their reputations. Why did they steal the money .^"