Sizzle and Burn (25 page)

He had clearly been surprised to see Raine and Zack walk into his office a short time before but he had offered condolences again.

“I understand that you are still grieving,” Ogilvey said to Raine. He folded his hands on the desk and studied her through a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. “Sometimes the process makes us demand answers where there are none, at least none that the medical world can provide. You might want to consider consulting a religious or spiritual adviser.”

“We’re not here to ask those kinds of questions,” Raine said quickly. “We want to know more about what happened the night my aunt died.”

Ogilvey began to look troubled. “As I recall, you requested and were given a copy of the file relating to your aunt’s case.”

Zack looked at him. “We know that Vella Tallentyre suffered cardiac arrest shortly before midnight. We also know that extreme resuscitation attempts were made but failed. We’re not questioning the cause of death or your staff’s efforts to revive her.”

Ogilvey frowned, bewildered. “Then what do you want from me?”

“We’d like to talk to the members of your staff who had contact with Vella during the twenty-four hours before her death,” Zack said.

There was an edge to his voice. Raine knew that it wasn’t just because he was now in full investigator mode. Like her, he was dealing with the swirling chaos of psychic energy that permeated the lobby and the office. Like any hospital, St. Damian’s had absorbed the psychical essence of desperation, fear, anxiety, rage, pain and just plain craziness given off by patients and their families over the years. The energy had literally soaked into the very walls.

Ogilvey stiffened in reaction to Zack’s tone. “Surely you don’t expect me to subject the members of my staff to questioning by a private investigator? If you suspect criminal negligence, there are procedures that must be followed.”

“No,” Raine said, interrupting before Zack could alarm Ogilvey any further. “That’s not what this is about. We understand that you have an obligation to protect your staff. But, as you probably realize, I have been dealing with my aunt’s estate for the past month and certain questions have arisen.”

Ogilvey was watching her with grave caution now. She knew he was giving serious consideration to calling his lawyer. At this rate she and Zack would soon be asked to leave.

“You should be able to answer the single most important question we have,” Zack said. “Did Vella Tallentyre have any visitors on the day of her death?”

Ogilvey hesitated, dubious but uncertain.

Raine leaned forward earnestly. “Please, Dr. Ogilvey. It’s very important. I know you keep careful records. As far as I am aware, in the year that my aunt was here at St. Damian’s the only people who came to see her aside from me were Gordon Salazar and Andrew Kitredge. We always had to sign in and show identification.”

“The family has a right to know if the patient received any other visitors,” Zack said with an air of quiet authority.

Ogilvey’s jaw flexed but he nodded once, brusquely. “Yes, I can give you that information.” He punched the intercom on his desk. “Mrs. Thomas, would you please bring in the log of all visitors who came to see Vella Tallentyre on the twentieth of last month?”

“
Right away, Dr. Ogilvey
.”

A short time later the assistant walked into the office, a computer printout in one hand.

“Is this what you want, sir?” She handed him the sheet of paper.

He glanced at it quickly, gray brows bunching a little. “Yes, thank you.”

The assistant left, closing the door behind her. Raine realized that Ogilvey was staring intently at the printout.

“I was out of town on the twentieth,” Raine said. “But I know that Gordon stopped by for a few minutes around lunchtime. Is there anyone else on that list?”

“Yes,” Ogilvey said, not bothering to conceal his surprise, “there is.”

Zack did not move but Raine felt the sudden, heavy pulse of his psychic aura. He probably felt something from her, too, she thought, because she was clenching the arms of the chair with enough force to leave small gouges in the wood.

“Who was the visitor?” she made herself ask in as calm a tone as she could manage.

“Nicholas J. Parker. He put down his relationship to the patient as
friend
.”

Raine’s stomach did an unpleasant little flip. “As far as I know, my aunt was not acquainted with anyone named Parker.”

Ogilvey’s brows rose. “Are you certain that you knew all of your aunt’s acquaintances?”

Her first impulse was to say yes. Then she remembered that, until recently, she hadn’t even known that Vella had been engaged in a torrid affair with Wilder Jones all those years ago.

“No,” she admitted. “But I can ask Gordon and Andrew. They might recall if there was someone from her past named Parker.”

“When did this Nicholas J. Parker arrive and leave?” Zack asked.

Ogilvey checked the printout. “He signed in at three-thirty in the afternoon and left forty minutes later.”

“Did he visit my aunt in her room or in one of the lounges?” Raine asked tensely.

“I can’t tell you that by looking at the log.” Ogilvey put down the sheet of paper with a decisive air. “But one of the staff will probably remember, since any visitors other than you and Mr. Salazar and Mr. Kitredge would have constituted an unusual occurrence.”

“I’d appreciate it if you would ask whoever you talk to for a description of Parker,” Zack said.

Ogilvey nodded, punched in a number on the phone and spoke to someone in a businesslike manner.

Raine waited, intensely aware of the kick of her pulse.

After a short, one-sided conversation, Ogilvey replaced the phone. He did not look pleased.

“Nicholas J. Parker met with Vella Tallentyre in her room,” he said.

“Number three-fifteen.” Raine flexed her hands on the chair arms. “It was a private room. She never left it willingly. She had to be coaxed out. She said she felt safe there.”

“Yes,” Ogilvey said. “In any event, the two of them were alone together for the most part during those forty minutes. However, because Parker was unfamiliar to the staff, one of the orderlies made an excuse to go into the room a couple of times just to make certain that Vella was not agitated or disturbed.”

“She must have known Parker,” Raine said, bewildered by the widening mystery. “Otherwise, I doubt she would have allowed him to stay so long. She didn’t do well with strangers.”

“No,” Ogilvey said. “She did not know him. When the orderly escorted Parker into the room and told Vella that she had a visitor, she started to object. However, Parker then informed her that he had been a colleague of her brother’s at some research lab. That’s why Vella allowed him to stay.”

Raine felt something squeeze tightly in her chest. “Parker knew my father?”

Zack looked at her, his expression stone cold. “That’s what he told your aunt. He might have lied in order to gain access to her.”

She shook her head, dazed by the revelations. “Either way, the question remains. Why did he show up out of the blue after all these years?”

“I regret I can’t answer that,” Ogilvey said, deeply concerned now. He turned to Zack. “I got only a very limited description, I’m afraid. The orderly described Parker as being of medium height, mid-forties, bald and twitchy.”

“Twitchy?” Zack repeated with cold interest.

“That was the word the orderly used. I gather Parker was the nervous type.”

“Did the orderly remember how Parker was dressed?” Zack asked.

“There was nothing memorable about his attire, apparently. The orderly recalled that he wore glasses, but that was all.” Ogilvey exhaled heavily. He looked at Raine. “In hindsight, the visit appears to have been somewhat out of the ordinary. I can assure you that Parker was monitored, however, and that it was your aunt’s decision to allow him to remain as long as he did.”

“Thank you,” Raine said quietly.

“I can tell you something else, as well,” Ogilvey said, quietly serious. “Something that may ease your mind. The orderly assured me that after Parker left, Vella seemed tired but very calm. She dozed for most of the rest of the afternoon and evening. Took her normal medication at ten and went to sleep almost immediately.”

“An hour and forty-five minutes later she was dead of a heart attack,” Raine said.

Zack folded his arms on top of the steering wheel and studied the building and the grounds through the gray, misty rain. He could feel the case coming together rapidly now, like pieces of a puzzle snapping into place. There were still some missing bits but they would show up soon. He knew it.

“The description of Parker wasn’t very exact but what there was definitely fits Lawrence Quinn, especially the twitchy part,” he said.

Raine turned her head very sharply to look at him. “Are you certain?”

“There was a note about the twitchiness in his file.”

She wrapped her arms beneath her breasts and contemplated the hospital. “Why would Lawrence Quinn go to see her?”

“There was only one connection between them, and we both know what it was.”

She gave a sad little sigh. “My father’s version of the founder’s formula.”

“Yes.” No point trying to soften the hard truth. She could handle it. “Did you ever go back into room three-fifteen after your aunt’s death?”

“No. Her body was moved immediately to a morgue. Gordon and Andrew packed up her things that night. By the time I returned from Vegas and dealt with the funeral arrangements, there was no reason to go back into the room. To be honest, I didn’t want to go there.”

“I understand.”

She glanced at him. “What are you thinking?”

“That you were right to be suspicious about Vella Tallentyre’s death.”

“You heard Ogilvey. He said she was fine after Parker or whoever he was left. She was very calm. Drowsy, even.”

“Maybe unnaturally so.”

Raine went very still. “You think he drugged her?”

“Quinn was a brilliant research chemist. If there was one thing he knew, it was drugs. He knew something else, too.”

“What?”

“He was an expert on how psychotropic drugs of all kinds affect people with strong parapsych senses. It was his area of expertise.”

“But why would he drug Aunt Vella, let alone kill her, after all these years?” Raine asked. “She was in no position to be a threat to anyone.”

“I can’t answer that yet. All I know is that Fallon was right. There’s a connection.”

They both looked at the hospital for a few more minutes.

“How did she stand it?” he asked after a while.

“Being confined in a psychiatric hospital?”

“Must have been hell,” he said. “We were in there for only about thirty minutes and I was ready to climb the walls.”

“She could tolerate it because toward the end, her psychic senses became very faint. She said it was like going deaf or losing her eyesight. For all practical purposes, during the last year of her life, she was no longer clairaudient. But instead of giving her peace, the loss of her talent flung her into a deep and enduring depression. Ogilvey managed to deal with the depression but she never recovered her parasenses.”

He started the engine. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“St. Damian’s is an exclusive private facility. Must have cost a fortune to keep your aunt there for a year.”

“Mmm.”

“Vegas?”

“Turns out I’m good with cards.”

Forty

H
er phone rang just as she unlocked the front door to the condo. She took it out of her purse and glanced at the familiar incoming number. Bradley.

Zack followed her into the hall and closed the door. He watched her take the call.

“Hello?” she said warily. She was not in the mood for another argument about the Cassidy Cutler book.

“It’s Bradley. I’m still in Shelbyville. Got some good news for you. Thought you should be the first to know.”

“What’s going on?”

“Langdon just arrested the Bonfire Killer. Press conference will be on the six o’clock news.”

Relief poured through her. She held the phone away from her mouth to speak to Zack. “It’s Bradley. He says they’ve got the witch hunter.”

Zack whistled softly. “That was fast.”

“This time he didn’t have a chance to destroy the evidence with fire.” She pulled the phone closer to her mouth to talk to Bradley. “Is the killer a Shelbyville resident?”

“Yes. New in town. Burton Rosser. Maybe you remember him. Worked the front desk of the B and B where you stayed.”

“Oh, my God. When I think of all the times I walked past him in the lobby—” She broke off. “How did Langdon nail him?”

“Found the souvenir photos of the victims on Rosser’s laptop. In addition there was a belt in Rosser’s bedroom that was identical to the one that was with the girl in the storage locker in your aunt’s basement. They’re running a DNA analysis on some hair they found in your aunt’s house now. Should have the results soon.”

“What made Chief Langdon look at Burton Rosser as a suspect in the first place?”

“Rosser came up on the radar screen right away. Langdon had been keeping an eye on him because he knew that Rosser had done time for rape and burglary. When Langdon started to question him, Rosser tried to run.”

Forty-one

P
andora’s lips moved but Raine couldn’t hear what she was saying. She leaned across the small table and eased the earplug out of her right ear.

“What did you say?” she yelled above the thundering music coming from the band on the stage.

“I said, why did Zack leave you here with me this evening?” Pandora shouted.

“I told you, he’s an investigator. He’s off investigating. Couldn’t take me with him this time. Didn’t want to leave me alone at the condo.”

They were sitting in a black vinyl booth in Café Noir. Pandora was drinking espresso. Raine had ordered an herbal tea. The club’s name was no accident. Just about everything inside was draped in black, including the walls and the ceiling. Glowing neon sculptures in strange shades of green, purple and red provided an otherworldly lighting effect. It was one-thirty in the morning and the place was crowded. Raine was very aware of the fact that she was the oldest person in the room. Even the bouncer out front and the bartender were younger.