Confessions of a Murder Suspect

24

We were feeling exhilarated after Harry’s magnificent performance, and we were also starving.

The five of us rode up in the north elevator, taking turns listing the goods stored in our pantry by food group. Whoever named the fewest foods would have to cook. This is the way we Angels play.

“Get ready to make dinner, Sam,” I told her. She didn’t know the pantry like we did. Most kids from a family like ours wouldn’t know the first thing about the kitchen, either, since it was usually the territory of the cook or housekeeper, but Malcolm had us all regularly cooking from the age of seven.

“You’ll be sorry if I do,” she said. “You know me. I’m the microwave queen.”

“Never too late to learn to be great,” Hugo said, and we all laughed. Another quote from our father.

We exited the elevator on the top floor and found the front door to our apartment wide open.

Samantha got out her phone and said, “I’m calling nine-one-one.”

Matthew’s chest, arms, and forehead seemed to expand, and the muscles in his neck thickened. “Stay here, all of you. I’m going to see who’s in there.” His bluer-than-blue eyes blazed like guide lights on an airfield at night.

He was heading through the open doorway when Sergeant Capricorn Caputo stepped into view. He put out his hands to stop Matthew from bulling into the apartment.

“You don’t have to call the police, Ms. Peck. We’re already here. We still have a search warrant, and we’re executing it.”

The police had entered our house when we weren’t there. It was another scandal in a day of many.

Uncle Peter was sitting on the red couch, his cell phone in hand. When he saw me, he covered the mouthpiece and said to me, “They’re authorized, Tandy.” Then he went back to his phone call.

The uniformed cops inside the apartment ignored us, coming and going through the kitchen and using the service elevator, taking cartons of foodstuffs with them.

“What the hell are you people doing here?” Matthew shouted.

I ignored Matty’s outburst. “Have you gotten back the medical examiner’s report?” I asked Caputo as calmly as possible. “There’s only one conceivable option: My parents were poisoned.”

“There’s a backlog of bodies at the morgue, Tookie. So save us some time, why don’t you. What poison did you use?”

“I did some research and found that a black tongue is caused by arsenic and by heparin,” I said. “That help you any?”

“Arsenic poisoning is very painful,” Caputo said. “It was probably a very bad death. Do you understand me? The killer showed no mercy.”

No mercy. The words echoed in my mind. And that’s when a very strange thing happened.

I suddenly felt as though my head had filled with helium. Caputo went in and out of focus. I felt Matthew’s hand at my back. And then I heard people calling my name.

I opened my eyes and I realized that I was flat on my back on the floor. I recognized the pattern on the carpet. It was definitely our carpet. I had fainted.

I had passed right out in front of the cops.

I had totally disgraced myself.

Mother, Mother, I’m so sorry.

Please forgive me.