“I don’t know.”
“Actually, I think she did and what I’m going to say next is going to really hurt. Jen knew that you were head-over-heels in love with her and she couldn’t have cared less. Believe it or not, she truly loved Tony.”
“But, he . . .”
“Routinely brutalized her like some Nazi concentra-tion camp guard? Yeah, he did, but she still loved him and don’t ask me to explain why, because I can’t,” I said sadly.
“And then on Friday morning, Carolyn Fielding broke the news to you that the woman you adored and whose life you’d saved was dumping you like last week’s trash and stealing your books. You must have felt as if your heart was being cut out with a rusty chainsaw.”
“Tony made her do it,” Todd said in half-whisper.
“You and I both know that isn’t true. Be honest. I’ll bet Jen had begun to start freezing you out about two months ago, hadn’t she?”
“She was worried that Tony might realize how I felt about her.”
“No, that’s when Tony’s probation was up. But being in love with her, you didn’t want to face the truth that she’d strung you along to keep Tony out of prison.”
“She told me that everything was going to be all right.” Todd clutched the teddy bear against his chest.
“And yesterday morning you realized that was just the The False-Hearted Teddy
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latest in a long string of lies. God, it must have hurt. But you loved her and you were willing to forgive her. Then, at some point, you came up with the idea that if you could only just make her understand how good you’d been to her, that she’d return your love.”
Todd cast a panicked look in the direction of the door.
“Oh, don’t do it, son. Don’t run. All that will do is make a jury believe you did it deliberately and that isn’t what happened, is it?”
“Please. I . . .”
“You wanted to be her hero again. You’d saved her life and maybe if you did it a second time, she’d come to her senses and realize that you were standing there offering her all the love in the world. Isn’t that right?”
“Why couldn’t she see?” There were tears running down Todd’s cheeks.
“We’ll never know why.” I heaved a huge sigh. “But I do know one thing: an honorable man acknowledges when he’s made a mistake.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“I know that. All you intended was for Jen to get sick, so that you could step in and handle the medical emergency, while Tony stood there looking helpless. Right?”
“Yes.”
“So you stole Jen’s card key, broke into their room and loaded her inhaler with superglue.”
“I thought I only put a little in.”
The crowd was beginning to become agitated and I hoped that didn’t mean the detectives had decided it was time to move in, because I wasn’t done yet. When I spoke again, my voice was tinged with disappointment. “You misjudged. But what’s worse, in the end, you failed her by not being there.”
“I was scared and you said that
you
could handle it,”
Todd sobbed accusingly as his shoulders slowly sagged forward.
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“Nobody could have handled it. You put enough superglue in there to kill a freaking rhino.” I allowed my voice to become a little sterner. “But you could have prevented it. All you had to do to stop Jen from sucking death into her lungs was to say something. Why didn’t you?”
“I just couldn’t. My brain was frozen.”
“No, it wasn’t. You didn’t say anything because you were ashamed of what you’d done and admitting that you’d tried to poison her would have meant giving up any chance to be her hero. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Better she should die, I guess. But hey, I don’t mean to sound judgmental. I’ve never been a hero, so I don’t know what it’s like.” Now that I had an admission of guilt, I could drop the constricting Father-Brad-there’s-no-such-thing-as-a-bad-boy persona and really burrow for the truth.
Todd cringed. “I panicked.”
“But you apparently weren’t so paralyzed with fear that it stopped you from grabbing the inhaler while we were doing CPR—thanks for the help by the way.”
“I just couldn’t watch what was happening to Jen.”
“Especially since you’d done it to her. However, it did occur to you to trot up to Tony’s room and plant the evidence there.”
“That son of a bitch deserves to be in prison for the things he did to her! It wasn’t my fault it turned out this way! It was his!”
“Maybe, but he never poisoned her. And why drag me into it by planting the evidence in my room?”
“I was so scared.”
“Of me? What did I ever do to you?”
“Of being arrested. When I was at the hospital, I started wondering if I’d hidden the inhaler too well. Tony hadn’t been arrested. What if the police didn’t find it?”
Todd was blubbering.
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“And you knew that once they expanded their search for suspects, they’d eventually find out about the Wintle contract and how Jennifer and Tony screwed you out of the profits. That would lead the cops to take a closer look at you.”
“Then I overheard the detectives talking to Tony. He told them about what happened in the parking lot and it seemed as if he’d convinced them that you’d killed Jennifer.”
“So you went into my room while the maids were cleaning, dropped the evidence in the wastebasket, and then put in a call to the cops.”
“I’m sorry.”
I waved my hand in disgust. “Gee, that makes everything all better. As long as you were trying to frame somebody, why didn’t you plant all the stuff in Tony’s room?”
“I was going to, but, but, but . . . there wasn’t enough time.” Todd sniffled and began to pant for breath. “After I put the inhaler in Tony’s room, I went down to mine to get the gloves and superglue tubes, but I got sick.”
“And by the time you’d finished barfing your guts up, it was too late to finish the job. So you rushed to the hospital, hoping to give yourself an alibi for the murder of the woman you loved and then came back to pin the blame on an innocent man. And let me get this straight: You wanted to be what? A hero?”
“Oh, God, I didn’t mean it! I loved her and I’m so sorry!” Todd howled as he slapped his right hand over his eyes. Then, while continuing to clasp the Cheery Cherub Bear to his breast, he slowly slipped to his knees and began rocking back and forth as he wept.
Suddenly, I was aware that Mulvaney, Delcambre, and several uniformed cops were moving past me. The patrol officers handcuffed Todd and half-carried, half-dragged him from the stage as the room exploded with the sound of anxious voices.
“So, it really was a mistake,” Mulvaney said.
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“That’s how it’ll play in court, because you’ll never be able to prove otherwise, but don’t you freaking believe it.
That isn’t genuine shame and remorse.” I jerked my cane in the direction of the cops as they dragged Todd out the door. “He’s just upset that his life as a hero is over . . .
and fifteen minutes from now, it’ll be somebody else’s fault.”
Twenty-three
Ash joined us on the stage and I noticed she looked troubled.
I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Honey, you may be used to watching a person tear-fully confess to a brutal murder and then go catatonic, but it’s still a pretty new experience for me. That was awful.”
She slipped her hand into mine and gave me a tender smile. “And by the way, I’m so proud of you. How did you figure out why Todd did it?”
“Yeah, and what was that crap you gave us in the car about how you’d rather be with your wife than finish the investigation?” Delcambre demanded.
“Did he really say that?” Ash asked.
Delcambre gave my wife a wary look. “Hi, Mrs. Lyon.”
“Hello, Sergeant Delcambre.”
“Relax, her sewing supplies are in the exhibit hall,” I said. “And I
was
done for the day, right up until I heard him moaning about his missed opportunity to save Jen.
That’s when it all began to make sense.”
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“How so?” Ash asked.
“He glossed right over the circumstances of her death, but made a big deal over how devastated he was that
he
couldn’t save her. That’s when I became convinced that he was your classic emergency service glory junkie. Think of the cop that injures himself in an imaginary life-threatening fight with a suspect, just because he wants to be admired by his peers.”
“Oh.” Ash’s eyes widened and I knew she was remembering a bogus assault-on-a-police-officer case I’d worked on years ago that I’d eventually forwarded to Internal Affairs.
“Or the firefighter who starts an apartment-house blaze so that he can ‘discover’ it,” said Mulvaney.
“Exactly. Anyway, it just seemed to me that as long as Todd was in the mood to wax nostalgic about his devotion to Jennifer, that there was a good chance to roll him.
Luckily, I guessed right.” I let go of Ash’s hand for a moment to grab the trophy from the podium and hand it to Mulvaney. “Here. You’ll want this. It’ll probably keep him feeling guilty if you have it in the interview room while you talk to him.”
“Thank you, Brad. For everything.” Mulvaney took the trophy.
“And can you do me a favor? When you get the chance, check on Donna Jordan’s status at the hospital. If she’s still there, I’d like to go over and talk to her.”
“We’ll give you a call later,” said Delcambre. “Meantime, we’ve got a prisoner to take to the station.”
As I turned to take Ash’s hand again, Lisa blindsided me. She threw herself against me, wrapping her arms around my chest, while suffocating me with the overpow-ering scent of a perfume that probably had some edgy name such as “Crazed” or “Bondage,” but smelled like Jordan Almonds. Meanwhile, Ash looked as if she was thinking about winding her right fist up, à la an old Popeye The False-Hearted Teddy
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cartoon, and smacking the teddy bear judge across Chesapeake Bay and over to the eastern shore of Maryland. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did, but this was my problem and I had to address it.
“Oh Brad, that was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my life,” Lisa said breathlessly. “You were so brave and you’re so smart.”
“Hold that thought,” I said, disengaging myself from her grasp. I turned to the microphone and tapped it to make sure it was still on. “Excuse me, before we resume the award ceremony, I’d like to ask the group something.”
The hum of low conversation died.
“I have a question about Lisa Parr, or Quesenberry, or whatever her name is this month. I don’t know whether she needs glasses or not, but she’s been hitting on me like a woodpecker on a suet cake and she’s fully aware that I’m happily married to the sweetest and most beautiful woman in the universe.” I paused to glance at Ash for a moment and then looked back at the crowd. “I didn’t understand what Lisa’s major malfunction is. But I’ve since learned that this is her MO at teddy bear shows. Is that true?”
There were nods and many murmurs of assent.
I’ll give Lisa this: she was tough under pressure. She pretended to be surprised and then smirked. “Somebody certainly has a high opinion of himself. Me? Attracted to a flabby old guy like you? Please. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe so, but can I have a show of hands as to how many of you think that she is the
perfect
artist to design and make a line of stuffed animals called Bimbo Bears?”
Everyone’s hand immediately shot skyward and there was about a second’s worth of silence before the laughter and applause began.
“Thank you. As always, the teddy bear community has restored my faith in humanity.” Stepping away from the 252
John J. Lamb
microphone, I smiled at Lisa, whose lower lip was trembling. “Was it good for you, honey?”
We needn’t have stayed for the rest of the award ceremony. Dirty Beary won an honorable mention, which was a little embarrassing, because I’d always known the bear should never have been nominated in the first place. Unfortunately, Ash’s snow tiger didn’t do any better than Beary. It, too, was awarded an honorable mention; however, a collector purchased the tiger before we left the room. Another collector offered to buy Beary, but I declined, because I’d already decided to give it to Sheriff Tina when we got back to Remmelkemp Mill.
Still, we had a pretty good time. We met lots of teddy bear artists and fans and I was peppered with dozens of questions. I had to beg off from saying anything about the ongoing murder investigation, but I was happy to answer any and all questions about Lisa. Later over dinner, I had the opportunity to bring Ash up-to-date on everything else that had happened, including the cheering news of Wintle Toys’ decision to void their contract with Tony Swift and their interest in coming to some sort of licensing agreement with Donna Jordan.
It was just after seven o’clock when Delcambre telephoned to tell us that Donna was still at Mercy Medical Center. Her blood pressure was so dangerously high that she’d been admitted for observation and would be in the hospital overnight. Thirty-five minutes later, we were outside her room. I didn’t think it would be good for Donna’s blood pressure if I entered unannounced, so I asked Ash to go in first. She did and after a little while, she opened the door and told me I could come in.
Donna was sitting up in the hospital bed looking twenty years older than when I’d last seen her. There was an IV inserted into her left wrist, a blood pressure cuff around her right bicep, and so many sensor wires attached to her body that she resembled a life-sized marionette.
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She looked at me and I noticed that the electronic chirping sound marking her heart rate accelerated a little. I decided to stay near the door for now.
“Hello, Brad. Your wife told me a little about what happened.” Donna was hoarse and I knew it was from screaming. “I’m sorry for everything I—”
“Donna, you don’t have to apologize to me. You had every reason in the world to think I’d double-crossed you.”
“You can come a little closer.”
“Thanks, I’d like that.” I went over and stood next to the bed, slipping my hand over Ash’s.