Our Husband (a humorous romantic mystery) (15 page)

"They didn't like it one little bit. Beatrix couldn't have kids, and Natalie didn't want them."

"Do you think that either Natalie or Beatrix could have killed Mr. Carmichael while he was in the hospital?"

She frowned. "Beatrix is a real meanie—I wouldn't be surprised if she did it. On the other hand, Natalie is a doctor and

knows how to kill people, I guess."

"Was Natalie ever alone with Mr. Carmichael?"

"She was in the ICU once, I think, with Beatrix. I don't know about the rest of the time."

"Was Beatrix ever alone with Mr. Carmichael?"

She frowned, trying to remember, then pointed her index finger. "Yeah! I woke up and saw her coming out of the ICU

alone. I was mad because I didn't get to go in to see him."

"You didn't go into the ICU at all?"

Ruby wanted to lie, but Detective Aldrich seemed too darn smart, firing questions one right after another. "Just for a

minute. The nurse snuck me in so I could look at him, but I didn't get to talk to him or anything."

"When was that?"

"I don't remember."

"Did the nurse stay with you while you were in the ICU?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you remember the nurse's name?"

"No, but she looked like Ma Ingalls on
Little House on the Prairie
. I told her that."

"Okay."

"Hey," Billy Wayne said to Aldrich, looking as if an idea had whomped him upside the head. "Ruby's baby is entitled to

Raymond's estate, ain’t it?"

Aldrich nodded. "If she can prove paternity, she'll probably be granted some portion of the estate in the form of a trust.

Most likely the bulk of Raymond's holdings will revert to Beatrix, his real wife."

Billy Wayne frowned. "But what if that old bag killed him?"

"No one can profit from a murder. If she killed her husband, his assets and life insurance would probably go to Raymond's

offspring."

"Ruby's baby?"

"Er, yes."

"How much dough are we talking about here?"

Aldrich frowned. "About half a million loaves."

Her lawyer gaped. "You don't say."

Ruby swallowed. Five hundred thousand dollars? She made eye contact with Billy Wayne, who gave her a thumbs-up,

then tapped his Timex. He had to get back to Leander to play in a softball game this afternoon.

"Are we almost finished?" she asked Aldrich.

The detective set down his pencil. "Mrs. Carmichael, we need to talk about a Mr. Hammond Jackson."

She felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "Ham... Ham's dead."

"Around five years ago, according to my sources."

She nodded.

"He was your mother's boyfriend?"

"For a while." Then hers—not by choice.

"He beat her?"

"Whoever was handy," she said. Hate bubbled in her stomach.

"How did Mr. Jackson die, Mrs. Carmichael?"

She glanced at Billy Wayne, who was cleaning his nails with a pocket knife and humming to himself, probably thinking

about the money. "He, uh... drank rat poison by mistake. He couldn't read, and thought it was booze."

"He drank the poison, or someone injected him with it?"

Uh-oh. "I don't know."

"You were the last person who saw him alive."

Her armpits were sticky. "So?"

"So you must know what happened to him."

She stared at him, begging him not to ask more questions. "Can I go now? I have to be at work in a couple of hours, and I'm

the feature act tonight."

Ruby hated the pity in his eyes, the condemnation (doing the daily crossword was paying off), and the doubt. "That's all for

now," he agreed with a nod.

Standing so quickly she almost twisted her ankle in her platform shoes, she said, "Come on, Billy Wayne."

Her lawyer jumped up, saluted Aldrich, and followed her out of the room at a trot. "Five hundred thou," he whispered, his

eyes wide. "Ruby, I know I told you I'd represent you for free passes to the club, but if you hit the jackpot, I could use a new set

of tires."

"The money won't be mine unless they find out that Beatrix killed Ray," she murmured, her head pounding with confusion.

The gossip surrounding Ham Jackson's death was just starting to die down in her hometown. Would they start saying she'd

killed Ray, too? On TV, innocent people got thrown in jail all the time. She clutched her tummy—she couldn't have this baby

behind bars. Terri, her own mother, had given birth to her in the clink, cursing her for life. "Better hold off on those tires for

now, Billy Wayne."

"Why? I'll bet she did him in, the bat."

Maybe Beatrix did kill Ray, Ruby conceded as she shoved open the front door and walked out into a surprising spring

chill. But God would get her good if she herself profited from Ray's murder, because she wasn't totally, completely, absolutely,

one hundred percent innocent.

Chapter 13

Natalie squinted. "Of course I've heard of ouabain. Is that your theory behind Raymond's death? Ouabain poisoning?"

Detective Aldrich nodded. "Yes."

She touched her forehead. "I don't believe this. Did anyone tell you, Detective, that ouabain occurs naturally in humans?"

Weak with relief, she slumped in the metal folding chair. It was all a ghastly mistake.

"This much?" He slid a paper across the table in front of her and Masterson. "For the purposes of the tape, I just provided

a copy of the medical examiner's report."

Natalie scanned the autopsy results and the M.E.'s comments, then shook her head. "This report must be in error."

"Like the original autopsy order," Masterson chimed in, tossing back the paper. "Raymond Carmichael's body was not

even supposed to be autopsied, yet you come back with a murder allegation. Sounds like the medical examiner's office is trying

to avoid a lawsuit, Detective."

Aldrich sat back in his seat and folded his hands behind his head. "I feel pretty safe with this one, counselor, since

murderers typically don't draw attention to a case by filing a suit."

"My client is not a murderer."

"I'd rather hear that from your client," Aldrich said, making eye contact with Natalie.

"I'm not a murderer."

He regarded her for a long minute. "Before you go on, Doctor, I feel obligated to inform you that one of my own men

overheard you threatening to kill Mr. Carmichael."

"What?" She laughed, her voice cracking. "That's absurd."

"Do you recall State Trooper Nolen calling to tell you Mr. Carmichael had been in an accident?"

"I remember that an officer called, but not his name."

"Do you remember telling the officer to stop by the hospital later because you were going to kill your husband?"

She opened her mouth to say that he and his man Nolen were both insane. Then she remembered that when the phone rang,

she'd been cursing Raymond for losing their life savings. No, make that
her
life savings. "I was angry. I'd just found out

something he'd done," she stammered.

"That he was already married?"

"
No
. That he had amassed a great deal of debt without telling me."

"I see. And how did you find out about the debt?"

"A local pawnbroker named Brian Butler came to see me, to tell me that Raymond owed him money."

"How much?"

She swallowed hard. "Over a hundred thousand dollars."

Aldrich lifted an eyebrow. "Good thing you're the beneficiary of a life insurance policy for
two
hundred thousand that you

took out on Raymond less than six months ago."

"Stop the recorder," her attorney said.

"No." Natalie held up her hand. "I have nothing to hide. The insurance was Raymond's idea. I didn't kill my husband for the

money, or for any other reason. But I
was
angry with Raymond when I received the phone call. I just didn't expect the officer to

take me seriously."

Aldrich leaned forward. "Dr. Carmichael, we're taking this case very seriously. Let's review the facts: You discover your

husband has wrecked your finances, then you threaten to kill him, then on top of everything else, you find out that he's a

bigamist who has two other wives, then he winds up dead from a lethal dose of an obscure poison."

All it takes is a motive, circumstantial evidence, and a persuasive prosecuting attorney
. Tony had tried to warn her.

"This is ridiculous," Natalie murmured.

"From my point of view," the detective said, "it makes perfect sense. You're a doctor with plenty enough know-how and

opportunity to do him in. Plus you have a motive and the means."

Masterson scoffed. "What motive?"

"Money, revenge."

Her lawyer's mouth flattened, but he attempted nonchalance. "Buying life insurance is no crime."

"No, but inducing a heart attack to collect on the policy is."

Natalie wanted to scream, but if she forced herself to remain calm, perhaps the world would right itself. "Detective

Aldrich, Raymond was having chest pains
before
I arrived at the hospital."

The man shrugged. "Maybe it gave you the idea to finish him off."

She inhaled deeply and swallowed her tears—she had to remain sharp, focused. "I didn't know he was even having chest

pains until I walked into Dade General and found out he'd been admitted."

"Maybe you had the stuff with you. The M.E. says that low doses of the ouabain would trigger chest pains. Maybe you've

been giving Raymond ouabain without him knowing."

She fisted her hands. "I only saw my husband every other weekend. And don't you think he'd have been suspicious if I'd

given him injections?"

"You don't have to inject the stuff. But then, you knew that, didn't you, Dr. Carmichael?"

She looked away.

"Please speak for the tape. Were you aware that the poison ouabain can be absorbed through the skin or ingested?"

"Yes."

"And if we were to search your office and your home, would we find ouabain?"

Panic ballooned in her stomach. She'd never gotten around to cleaning out the previous doctor's stash of samples and

accumulated junk at the office. For all she knew, Jimmy Hoffa could be buried in the storeroom. And she didn't have a clue

what Raymond kept in the metal lockers that lined the interior of the garage—could he have been taking the drug without telling

her in an attempt to disguise a heart problem?

"How about it, Dr. Carmichael? Got any ouabain lying around?"

"No... not to my knowledge."

Masterson snorted. "This is crazy, Detective. Dr. Carmichael is a dedicated physician with an excellent personal and

professional reputation."

"Which will be tanked when word gets out that she married a bigamist and he died from a lethal dose of cardiac poison."

True. So true. She sat back in the cold chair, overwhelmed. Where had her life gone? How could her entire identity be so

tenuous as to disappear in a matter of a few days?

Her lawyer's hand on her arm was meant to comfort, but she could only stare at his soft white fingers. "If you're convinced

that Raymond Carmichael was poisoned," Masterson said, his voice a bit shrill, "may I point out that there are at least two

other women who might have wanted him dead."

"And I've already talked to both of them," Aldrich said.

The person they interview first has the advantage
. She sprang up, her legs tingling from the adrenaline surge. "They told

you that I killed Raymond? That elitist snob and that empty-headed juvenile?" Was it not enough that they both had a piece of

Raymond that she didn't? Were they out to annihilate her? Did they actually think she was capable of killing him?

Natalie swallowed. Was she? The few hours she'd been able to sleep these past few days, hadn't her dreams been awash

with fantasies of confrontation and revenge?

"Both his wife and the woman who's carrying his baby have more to gain from Raymond's death than Natalie," Masterson

said quickly. "She doesn't even have a solid claim on his estate."

"So if Raymond lived, she got nothing. This way, she takes home two hundred grand."

"And maybe Raymond stiffed someone else—a coworker or a business associate who decided to get even," her lawyer

pointed out.

"Or someone he owed money," Natalie ventured, leaning on the table. An image of Brian Butler exploded into her head.

Could that thug have hired someone to kill Raymond?

"Who just happened to be at the hospital the night he was admitted, with a syringe full of ouabain," Aldrich said with a fair

amount of sarcasm.

She exhaled. Right—how would Butler have known Raymond was in the hospital? Her brain hurt from too many