Page 23 of The Paternity Puzzle
Royce felt like he was on an episode ofHousewivesand wished for a bowl of popcorn. He risked a glance at Diego and bit back a laugh at the younger detective’s stunned expression. Christ, they’d be talking about this case at the cop shop for a long time. “Emotions are clearly high, so let’s try to get through this as quickly as possible. At the mayor’s behest, we’ll resume this conversation tomorrow or Monday.”
The women called a truce with jerky nods before turning their attention to Royce and Diego, who moved them through the day’s timeline as quickly as possible. With Barclay’s mediation, they figured out that Jean Claude had been home alone for over five hours by himself, which was plenty of time for him to get worked up and search the house for ways to ease his frustration. And then there was the alcohol to consider. Alyssa admitted that she’d poured him a glass of scotch after his aggravation had reached peak levels. She’d been the one to suggest he should take a swim to relax. They didn’t have security cameras anywhere on the property because they would ruin the elegant aesthetic, so there was no way of knowing when or if the doctor went for a swim or if he’d fallen into the pool during his overdose.
“How much liquor was in the decanter when you poured the drink?” Diego asked.
“It was half-full,” Alyssa replied. “He’d been nursing that five-hundred-dollar bottle of scotch for six months or more.”
And he drank the rest of it in one afternoon? He’d either received bad news from Richard Todd or had gotten furious when they failed to connect. Obtaining phone records would help answer that question if a judge approved a warrant in what appeared to be an open-and-shut overdose. It was possible that Mrs. Matisse had tired of his shit and slipped him the pills and plied him with the booze, but they’d need to find some evidence pointing them in that direction. The autopsy would clear things up or muddy the waters.
“How was Dr. Matisse’s overall health? Did he have any underlying conditions that could’ve been exacerbated by the pills or alcohol?”
“No,” Julia said.
“Absolutely not,” Alyssa stated emphatically. “My husband was at the peak of health. He worked out religiously and adhered to strict eating habits. His only vice was an occasional glass ofscotch, as I said. A single bottle would typically last him a year or longer.” She sniffed. “I gave him one for Christmas every year.” She looked at her daughter. “I’m pretty sure it’s the only time he liked me.”
Julia’s mouth trembled as she reached around the mayor to hold her mother’s hands. Barclay leaned back with a wary expression on his face. “That’s not true, Mother.”
The last thing Royce wanted was for them to get into another argument, so he kept the conversation going. “Do any of you know the source of his distress?”
The trio averted their gazes away from him and grew pensive. Julia’s brow furrowed, Alyssa glared at no one in particular, and the mayor frowned. One by one, they seemed to pull the room back into focus. The trio exchanged glances among themselves before giving Royce and Diego their attention again.
“No,” they said at once.
“And I’m not sure it matters to you,” Barclay added. “Unless you suspect foul play.”
“Should we?” Diego asked. “Has Dr. Matisse had any issues with anyone?”
The trio looked at each other again and this time shook their heads. Barclay looked less convincing, but Royce couldn’t tell if Matisse had confided in him or if he simply suspected someone with the doctor’s personality had ruffled the wrong feathers. Royce wanted to push harder but knew it would likely backfire. It was time to call an end to the interview for the time being. He leaned forward and turned off the recording. He asked for one final piece of information, which was how to contact Yvonne and Ricardo.
Alyssa gave him a puzzled look. “Why? They weren’t here today.”
“Mother, something has been off with Father since yesterday afternoon. Give the sergeant their contact information so hecan see if they witnessed anything that might explain why this happened.”
“That makes sense.” Alyssa looked at Julia. “Could you get that for them? It’s in my address book in my office.”
“Sure,” Julia said. “I’ll be right back.”
Silence washed over the room as they waited for her to return. Luckily, she wasn’t gone long.
“You’ve been through a lot,” Royce said, pocketing the piece of paper she gave him. “We can chat again later once you’ve had time to rest and assimilate everything that’s happened.”
Royce and Diego placed a few business cards each on the coffee table and collected their contact numbers before exiting the salon. They regrouped on the back patio where the medical examiner and her staff were loading the body bag onto the gurney.
“We better call Mendoza and bring him up to speed.”
They waited until the medical examiner, crime scene techs, and officers were ready to leave and followed everyone through the house and out the front door. Royce and Diego called Mendoza from the car and gave him a rundown of what they knew so far, starting with the bomb Felix dropped on Royce. The chief said nothing until Royce and Diego finished their summary.
“Christ,” Mendoza said. “This is going to turn into a media circus.” He blew out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t see a judge issuing subpoenas or search warrants until we get some hard facts from the medical examiner’s office.”
“That’s what I thought too. Unless Fawkes uncovers a surprise, I can’t see her ruling anything other than an overdose. And she might not be able to determine if it’s accidental or not. That will lead to a lot of public speculation, but it’s better than writing a report with false findings.”
“True,” Mendoza said. “It doesn’t sound like there’s anything left for you to do right now. Enjoy the rest of your night because I’ll want to know how the family reacts to Felix’s exposé in tomorrow’s paper.”
“You got it, Chief.” Royce disconnected the call and looked at Diego. “Let’s head on back to my house. The party should still be in full swing.”
“You couldn’t pay me to get into your pool again tonight,” Diego said.
“I’ll take that bet.”