Savich smiled. “Do you know, when I set MAX my laptop to work to do a deep background on Marsia Gay, I found nothing at all questionable. But Willig had to fit somewhere, so I set MAX digging into genealogy records. I found a distant cousin of Marsia’s mother, Eleanor Metzer. She divorced her husband, remarried and had a son—and suddenly all the pieces slotted neatly together. The son’s name was Vincent Willig.

“He and Marsia grew up in the same town, must have known each other. I imagine Willig called her when he was let out of prison, and the timing was perfect. I wouldn’t be surprised if she seduced him, to tie him to her, no reason to take any chances, and promised him the moon. Asking Willig to kill someone wasn’t a problem because Willig was a psychopath, the perfect tool. The fact that he wasn’t very bright was a plus because that meant he didn’t think too deeply.

“Sherlock pointed out that in the end it wasn’t Vincent’s stupidity that brought him down, it was sheer bad luck. Sherlock and I didn’t leave when Vincent thought we did. And that was why we got Willig. I’ve got to say, Marsia, you still kept your head, you didn’t panic.

“Veronica saw him lying in that hospital bed, knowing he wouldn’t be willing to go back to prison for life. You faced your biggest crisis. If he rolled on you, it was over. And he tried to, that afternoon when Venus offered him a hundred thousand dollars to give us the name of whoever had hired him—of course, no one believed him.”

Veronica opened her mouth, but Savich held up his hand. “No, don’t bother to deny it, Veronica. It couldn’t have been anyone else but you who killed him. Were you smart enough not to drive your car with its GPS to the hospital? You worked as a nurse’s aide for several years while you were finishing your psychology degree at Smith. More than enough time to learn how hospitals function, what the nurses’ duties are, where the drug supplies are kept.”

Marsia had sat in the beautiful antique wing chair, her legs crossed, her capable hands folded in her lap, no expression on her face. She hadn’t moved. Veronica, on the other hand, was wringing her hands, her expression frantic, clearly not knowing what to do.

Time for the kill shot. Savich said to her, “When Marsia told you about Rob meeting Delsey, you saw your beautiful dream evaporating. You weren’t about to let that happen. You didn’t think through what you were doing, you acted. Luckily for Delsey, you failed.

“Do you know, it’s very possible Delsey will never forgive Rob for keeping his relationship with Marsia from her, and that would mean you brought down your house of cards needlessly.”

Veronica looked at Rob, dislike clear on her face. “If he’s anything like Alexander, like his father, he’d have talked her around. I only wanted—”

Marsia said, not raising her voice, “Shut up, Veronica, please shut up.”

Savich continued to Veronica, “Venus told me you’d become her dearest friend. She didn’t want to believe it when I told her what you’d done. She cared for you so very much. You broke her heart.” He paused. “It turns out, your heart belongs to someone else—you’re in love with Marsia.”

61

* * *

Savich watched Rob finally turn to Marsia. He looked both stricken and confused. “You—you’re gay, Marsia? You were faking everything?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Marsia said. “Really, Rob, we are very well suited, not only emotionally, but physically. You’ve never questioned that before. Why would you now?”

Glynis laughed. “Great nonanswer, Marsia. You’re that good? Well, I suppose you’d have to be. Rob, don’t be naive, she could have faked it without a problem. What a marvelous joke.”

Marsia raised her chin, said pleasantly, “I am not gay. I find it distasteful.”

Veronica gasped, her eyes laser sharp on Marsia’s face, brimming with questions, with accusations. With hurt.

“Don’t you see, Veronica?” Savich said. “Marsia set out from the beginning to use you, to seduce you, to manipulate you, just as she did Rob, and Willig. It was always you who were at risk. You were the one who gave Venus the arsenic, who took the risk of killing Willig, and who shoved Delsey in front of that limousine. Not Marsia, you. And you would have gained so much less than she, maybe nothing at all. Marsia never loved you. I doubt she’s ever loved anyone.”

Veronica’s voice was a whisper. “Is he right, Marsia? That you never loved me?”

“For goodness sake, Veronica, don’t be a fool. Just be quiet.” She turned to Savich. “This is an amazing display of imagination, but I think it’s time to bring this fabrication to a close. I want to speak to a lawyer, and if I were you, Veronica, I would do the same.”

“I wouldn’t listen to her, Veronica. She’s protecting herself, not you. It’s time for you to tell me why you’ve done this.”

The room fell instantly silent as slowly, they turned to see Venus Rasmussen standing in the open doorway, dressed in an elegant Armani gray suit, perfectly presented, Sherlock beside her. He got a discreet whiff of Venus’s signature Chanel perfume. Only he had realized Sherlock had slipped out.

Venus never looked away from Veronica, now pale as death, her pupils dilated and wild. “I really didn’t want to believe Dillon when he told me you were the one who put the arsenic in my drink here at home. It made sense, of course, but I simply couldn’t accept it, not after fifteen years of my affection and support. It was I who helped you set up your business, made certain you prospered. I couldn’t understand how you could do something so—evil. That woman, Marsia, you fell in love with her, didn’t you?”

Veronica took a step toward Venus, but Glynis grabbed her arm.

Veronica shook her off. “Does it really matter now, Venus? Listen, I didn’t want to do any of it, it wasn’t my idea. She told me she would tell you about me if I didn’t do what she said.”

“Veronica, I’ve known for a long time you’re gay—the little things you’d say, how your face would light up sometimes when you were speaking to a woman on your cell phone. Of course I knew about your affairs over the years, discreet ones, but I knew. It was up to you to raise the issue with me if you wished. It made no difference to me. But it must have been lonely for you.

“And then you found Marsia, or she found you and she made all the loneliness fall away when she got her hooks into you.” Venus turned to Marsia. “Such a pity for you that I didn’t die, that I’m here facing you, the picture of eighty-six-year-old health. I heard Dillon say you were unlucky. Your bad luck was that he and Sherlock are dear friends of mine, and they walked through that door the very afternoon you had me scheduled for murder. Your relation Vincent Willig was a psychopath. It obviously runs in the family.”