Page 36 of The Paternity Puzzle
“That won’t be a problem, sir.” Royce might’ve sounded like a calm professional, but he really wanted to snap the pretentious man’s finger off and shove it up his ass.
Royce led the team into the kitchen. The CSU techs had already donned protective gear upon entering the residence to prevent evidence contamination. Royce and Diego pulled on gloves, too, as a precaution. “We’re looking for anything that could’ve been used to grind pills into a fine powder,” Royce said. “A mortar and pestle, or maybe a coffee or spice grinder. The warrant names both manual and electronic options. We’realso looking for any equipment used to make and consume smoothies. I suggest starting in the dishwasher. Collecting indoor and outdoor trash is also included in the warrant.”
Julia and Alyssa rushed into the room. They both looked disheveled, as if the commotion of unexpected people and noises had dragged them from serene solitude. Julia had one towel wound around her head and another wrapped around her body. “What the fuck is going on?”
Alyssa’s hair was sticking up at odd angles, and she rubbed sleepily at her eyes. She hadn’t dressed for bed but must’ve fallen asleep. The weary widow looked at Richard Todd. “Is it Tuesday already?” That must’ve been some nap.
“Christ, Mom,” Julia hissed. “It’s Sunday evening. The detectives didn’t honor the bargain their commissioner agreed to.”
Mayor Barclay moved to stand in front of her. He lifted his hands as if to settle them on her shoulders but then dropped them to his side when considering her state of undress. “Julia,” he cautioned. “The medical examiner returned some troubling information that won’t allow delay.”
Julia brushed the mayor aside and approached the lawyer, who seemed unwilling to look in her direction. “Uncle Rick, fix this.”
The silver-haired man sighed and turned his rigid body around to address her. “Dear, this situation is outside my scope of expertise, even if I was still practicing. I told your father that on Friday, and I’m telling you now.”
Julia’s pale face turned a mottled red. “Don’t say another word about your conversations with my father.”
“Julia,” Alyssa said sleepily. “What are you wearing?”
“Excuse me, Mother. I was in the bathtub trying to forget about the horrors of the past few days.”
That remark caught Royce’s attention. Her father had only been dead for a little over a day. Sure, Julia could’ve misspoken, but her previous conversation about Dr. Matisse’s behavior implied that tensions had been high since her arrival. Or had she known about the allegations? Had Julia’s daddy issues gotten the best of her when she learned Dr. Matisse had potentially fathered hundreds of other children? Did it magnify her anger toward him enough to kill?
“That’s no excuse for such unladylike behavior,” Alyssa said. “Eli and Richard are extremely uncomfortable, and you’re making a horrible impression with these detectives and…” Her voice trailed off as she waved at the technicians searching her kitchen for evidence. Alyssa seemed too calm under the circumstances. Had she been able to refill her prescription, or was she completely unaware of the seriousness of the situation? She’d aimed her only outward display of ire at her daughter.
“Drop it, Mother,” Julia snapped. “We have bigger fish to fry. The police must think one of us killed Father.”
“Go get dressed,” Alyssa insisted. “Now.”
Julia glared at her mother, and Royce couldn’t help but imagine what her teen years had been like. After a tense standoff, Julia spun on her heels and flounced out of the room.
Alyssa smoothed a finger over her eyebrows and then used her hands to tidy her hair. “I’d offer everyone a beverage, but you’ve seized control of my kitchen.”
“We won’t be long, ma’am,” Diego said.
“Why are you here?” Alyssa asked.
“Let’s wait until your daughter returns,” Royce said. “That way, I only have to say this once.”
“Efficient,” Alyssa said with an approving nod.
A few minutes later, Julia returned to the kitchen looking much younger than her thirty-eight years in a pair of faded skinny jeans and a coral tank top. Then again, her mother didn’tlook seventy-five either. Had Alyssa intentionally waited until her late thirties to have a child, or were her fertility struggles what prompted Dr. Matisse to specialize in the field?
“This is barely an improvement over the towel,” Alyssa said when she noticed Julia’s outfit.
“Shut it, Mother.” Julia turned a scathing expression on Royce and Diego. “Why are you here, and what are you looking for?”
Royce wasn’t one to tip his hand, but he couldn’t shake the impression that one of these women, or possibly both, had acted rashly when they put the ground benzos into the green smoothie and served a scotch chaser. Their emotions might’ve gotten the best of them, and they hadn’t likely covered their trail very well. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed that the techs had already bagged and tagged several pieces of evidence from the dishwasher, including a single-serving blender cup and a dirty glass—both with a dried green residue clinging to the sides. They’d also found what looked like a collection container from an electric spice grinder. When he turned back to face the Matisse women, he noticed their attention was riveted to the activities behind him. Richard Todd and Mayor Barclay were regarding one another in what looked like a silent conversation. “Dr. Matisse ingested a deadly combination of alcohol and benzodiazepine, resulting in respiratory and cardiac failure.”
Four sets of eyes jerked to him. Their reactions were what he expected since everyone had jumped to this conclusion the previous day based on the empty decanter of liquor and the bottle of pills on the poolside table. No one seemed surprised, but only the men looked irritated. As for Julia and Alyssa, their faces had become masks of indifference that made it impossible to know what they were thinking. Royce was pretty sure that would change soon because it was unlikely their lessons on becoming a genteel lady included how to react when someoneaccused them of murder, not that he planned to do so right then. A mere hint of suspicion should do the trick nicely.
Richard Todd was the first to verbalize his thoughts. “That’s the ruling we expected the medical examiner to find. So why the warrant to seize certain household items and collect fingerprints?”
“Fingerprints?” Alyssa asked. “Whose?”
“Yours and your daughters,” Diego replied.
Alyssa placed her hand on her chest as if to clutch her pearls, but she wasn’t wearing jewelry. “Why would you need our fingerprints?”