"Then why are you asking me?"
"Why did you change your answer?"
"Because--"He hesitated. "I didn't want you to know I was in my room. How can I swear they were home if I say I was in my room all night?"
Something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what.
While I waited for Marco to call, I played Ghost Cat with Simon, darting from kitchen to living room and back, letting him hide and jump out at me. The mindless game allowed my thoughts to wander, and they kept returning to the same question. Why had Tansy lied about Andrew coming home at five o'clock?
Maybe she hadn't lied. Maybe she didn't know he came home early. But why wouldn't she know? I rubbed my forehead, trying to remember what else Andrew had said about that evening.
"How can I swear they were home if I say I was in my room all night?"
Andrew had used the word they. Shouldn't he have said he--as in Herbert? Shouldn't he have been concerned about providing an alibi for his grandfather? Then again, why would he be? Andrew had told us he'd leave Herbert in a minute.
Had he needed to provide his grandmother with an alibi?
I glanced at my watch. What was taking Marco so long? We had to talk to Tansy before Herbert returned, and our window would be gone in an hour.
I waited another five minutes, pacing in frustration. Finally, I grabbed my coat and car keys and headed to the parking lot. If I hurried, I might beat Connor. With a little luck and good timing, Dave could be cleared by the end of the day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.
Tansy Chapper was startled to see me. She was wearing ablack cardigan over a pink-and-black floral print dress and black pumps, and had even put on lipstick, as though she might be going out for a special occasion. At the sight of me, she drew her sweater tighter around her thin body, as though to protect herself. "Yes?" she asked in her soft voice. She seemed preoccupied.
"Hi, Abby Knight again. I was here earlier this week. I wanted to follow up on our conversation with a few more questions. I hope this isn't a bad time."
"I'm sorry," she said with a regretful smile. "I can't talk to you now."
"Oh." I glanced behind her to make sure her husband wasn't lurking in the background, then whispered, "Is Mr. Chapper home?"
"No. He'll be here later."
She was shutting the door. What could I say? "Wait, Tansy. I know you called me from Whispering Willows--and I know why."
That got her attention. She studied me for a long moment, then opened the door wide. "I think you'd better come inside."
"Please have a seat," she said, indicating the sofa. "I've just made a pot of tea. I'll get you a cup."
"Thank you." I heard a loud squawk and covered my head with my arms.
"You're safe," she said. "The birds are in their cages this morning."
While she was gone, I checked out the living room and spotted Herbert's magazines on the table beside his lounge chair, also the magazine rack with Tansy's knitting and cooking 'zines in it. I definitely had to start paying more attention. A stack of envelopes, a pen, and a roll of stamps lay on the coffee table, as though I'd caught her in the midst of paying bills.
"Here we are," she said, carrying a tray into the room. She placed it on the coffee table, sat on the love seat, and poured two cups of tea from a tall, insulated pot. "Sugar?"
"No, thank you." I accepted the cup and saucer and took a sip. Tansy did the same.
"Tea is soothing, don't you think?" She put her cup and saucer down, then began to stick stamps on the envelopes. Obviously I was going to have to start the conversation.
"I noticed you have a Basketful of Dreams catalog. Have you ever ordered from it?"
She glanced at me oddly. "Not in many years."
Okay, Abby, let's get right to it. "Why didn't you leave your name when you called my shop?"
Two spots of color appeared on her cheekbones, but she merely continued to apply stamps to the envelopes.
"You made that phone call to help Dave, didn't you?"
"Yes." She set the envelopes aside, then picked up her cup and sipped quietly.
"Then won't you please give the police a statement? The DA is convening a grand jury next week to indict Dave for Lipinski's murder."
She let out a tiny "Oh," rattling her cup as she set it into the saucer. But then she sat with her hands in her lap, her gaze far away, as though distancing herself.
I glanced at my watch. I needed to get her to talk before Connor arrived.
"I'm sure it's difficult to be disloyal to your husband, but you can't let an innocent man pay for a crime he didn't commit. If you know who's responsible for Ken Lipinski's death--"
"Herbert isn't a murderer," she said in a fierce whisper, tears filling her eyes. She got up abruptly and left the room. I assumed she was going for a tissue, but she returned with a black leather handbag and a paper grocery sack.
"Tansy," I said gently, "your husband was caught on a surveillance camera in front of the motorcycle shop half a block from Lipinski's office on Monday evening."
She lifted her chin. "Why haven't the police come to question Herbert, then?"
"The surveillance information was just uncovered by an investigative reporter."
She began to clean out her purse, throwing away crumpled receipts and used tissues, trying to ignore me.
"Once the police get that information, Tansy, they'll find out about the lies--yours and Andrew's. You wouldn't want Andrew to be charged as an accessory to murder, would you?"
She glanced up in horror, as if she hadn't considered that point. "Of course not!" She seemed to want to say more but instead burst into tears. It was a messy, embarrassing weep, one not easily consoled with words. I finished my tea, looking out the window, waiting patiently for her to collect herself.
After a few moments, she pulled a wrinkled tissue from her pocket and pressed it against her face. "It's my fault," she said at last, her chin trembling.
"What's your fault?"
"If it wasn't for me, Andrew would be in music school. He'd already applied for the loans when Cody won the contest. But then Herbert just--fell apart. Andrew wouldn't leave after that."
"I'm sure Dave has told you that Andrew is going to get his fair share of the prize money, so he'll be able to go to school. And if you haven't heard yet, Cody is telling people he wants to work with Andrew again. It's all going to work out."
"It can't work out--don't you see?" Tansy fished another tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes, then refilled my teacup. "Please try to understand. Herbert was a dear, sweet man, a good husband and father. But our daughter's death brought him so much pain that his flashbacks returned. At first he was able to control them with medicine, but after Cody turned his back on Andrew, Herbert snapped. Now, even on Limbitrol, he's so tortured by hallucinations that he often can't separate them from reality. He doesn't mean to hurt anyone. It's beyond his control."
She took a deep breath, then added the used tissue to the sack and went back to cleaning out her purse. "When Herbert returned from Vietnam, we promised each other that we would never let anything separate us again. As long as I'm alive, I will keep my promise. But that means that Herbert stays with me, so Andrew won't leave. He'll use the money from the settlement to care for us. It's why I have to free them."
My thoughts seemed to slow down to a crawl. "I don't understand."
She took an envelope from the top of the stack and handed it to me. "I was going to leave this on the table for Herbert to mail, but perhaps you could personally deliver it to Mr. Hammond. It would be so much nicer that way."
I blinked to see the writing on the front because my vision was oddly blurry. "What is it?"
She took her wallet out of her purse, removed the bills and credit cards and put them carefully on top of the stack of envelopes, then placed the empty wallet into the sack. "My confession."
I looked over at her in surprise, only to have the room spin. "I'm sorry, what?" I put one hand on the sofa to steady myself. Was I holding a confession of murder?
"Mr. Hammond will explain after he reads it. It will clear his name. I left letters for Herbert and Andrew on the kitchen table. Are you dizzy?"
"Maybe a little." I tried to downplay it even as a feeling of inertia was spreading rapidly through my veins, making it difficult to move. Something was wrong with me. With my tongue growing stiffer by the second, I asked, "What did you say about letters?"
Tansy set her purse aside and rose. "Here, let me help you."
As she swung my legs to the sofa and eased my head onto a pillow, I struggled through the fog filling my head to form a thought, but when I tried to voice it, my words came out thick and nearly unintelligible. "Something--in--my--tea?"
"You'll be fine," she said soothingly. "It's only temporary, although you may have a headache later." She took an amber-colored plastic pill bottle out of her pocket, poured the contents into her palm, and began to take the pills with her tea.
I blinked hard, trying to bring her, as well as my thoughts, into focus. I watched as she swallowed the last of the pills and finished her tea, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. Was she trying to kill herself? I tried to get up, but I felt sluggish and stupid, unable to make my body obey. I forced my mouth to form a word. "Why?"
"Why did I kill Mr. Lipinski?"
That wasn't my question, but it would do for openers.
"To keep Herbert from killing him. I had to protect my husband." Her voice caught. "It's my duty." She found a fresh tissue and dabbed her eyes. Then she got up, removed the magazines from the rack, and placed them carefully in the sack.
I struggled to get out another word. "How?"
"TLC cleans Mr. Lipinski's office on Friday evenings," she explained matter-of-factly. "I've been there frequently over the years. I know Mr. Lipinski's habits. He works late and always has a drink sitting on his desk. So I phoned on Monday afternoon to say one of the cleaners left her supplies and would be stopping by to collect them after five. He let me in, then went back to work, assuming I'd see myself out. It was easy to slip crushed pills in his drink. He stepped out of his office several times to use the washroom.
"My timing couldn't have been better. When I left the building, Herbert was there, in the parking lot, planning God knows what. He didn't remember any of it the next day."
She sighed tremulously as she placed her purse in the sack, too. "My poor Andrew. He suspected Herbert immediately and feared I'd be his next victim. He tried to get rid of the gun in order to protect me, and look what happened to him! So don't you see? This is the best solution. With me out of the way, Herbert will get the help he needs, and Andrew can pursue his dream."
She picked up the paper sack and swayed as she got to her feet. "It's taking effect faster than I thought. I must get to my bed now. You'll be sure to give that envelope to Mr. Hammond, won't you?"
I managed to stretch out my hand toward her. Wait! I wanted to cry. You're making a huge mistake. You're not freeing Andrew. You're dooming him to a lifetime of guilt and sorrow. But I couldn't get the words out.
Tansy placed the brown sack in the hallway just beyond the living room, where I saw a row of grocery sacks lined against the wall, some with clothing visible on top, as though she'd cleaned out her closets. She was making her death as easy for them as possible.
She steadied herself against the doorjamb. "The man who came with you before, do you love him?"
With all my heart, I wanted to say. But all I could manage was a slight nod.
"Be sure to tell him." She gazed wistfully at me and then she was gone.
I heard a door shut, a lock slide home. I rolled onto my side and stretched my hand toward my purse, lying by my feet. I had to get to my phone. I had to stop her.
Someone knocked on the front door--maybe it was Connor! "Help!" I tried to call, but my voice was a mere croak. "Help!" I tried again, attempting to move my unresponsive legs.
The doorbell rang and Connor called, "Hello? Anyone home?"
I wanted to bang my fist on the coffee table, but my arm wouldn't obey. He knocked a few more times, then stopped. Would he peer in the front window and see me lying here? I tried to lift my head so I could see him, but he never appeared.
Concentrating as hard as I could, I managed to hook my fingers beneath the strap of my purse and tug it toward me. With slow, agonizing effort, I slid my hand inside and pinched my phone between my fingers and thumb, using them like a crab's claw. I finally got the phone onto the sofa beside my face, then had to pry it open. I forced my fuzzy brain to focus on the numbers until I was able to press speed dial number two. But when Marco answered, all I could do was mumble, "Tansy."
"Abby, what's wrong? Where are you?"
"Tan-sy," I said again, my head spinning from the effort. I felt like throwing up.
"Are you with Tansy?"
"Yeh."
"Hang in there, baby. I'm on my way."
I let my head loll back and the tears come.
I must have fallen into a deep sleep, because when I awoke, the house was full of cops, EMTs, the coroner, and Marco, who was sitting on the floor rubbing my hand. I pulled it out of his grasp as I struggled to sit up. "Tansy?" I asked hoarsely, relieved to sound intelligible again.
Marco took me in his arms and held me. I heard his voice in my ear. "She didn't make it."
She'd taken her life for her loved ones. The whole horrible, senseless tragedy, from Cody's selfish actions to Tansy's unselfish ones, brought back my tears. I wept hard, clinging to Marco, and it only got worse when Herbert charged into the room just as the EMTs wheeled his wife's body out of the bedroom.
"Tansy!" he cried in a panic, cradling her lifeless body in his arms. "Oh, God, no! Tansy, please don't leave me. How could you do this to us?"
Marco scooped me up, carried me out to his car, and took me to the hospital, where I was examined, tested for drug toxicity, then given the okay to go home and rest. Back at my apartment, Marco poured me a glass of ginger ale to help settle my stomach, then sat on the sofa with his arms around me, letting me know he was there.
For a while I trembled so violently that all I could do was hold on to him, letting the shock of Tansy's confession and death sink in. After a while I was able to describe what had happened in as much detail as I could remember. It still seemed unreal.
"I was so certain Herbert was the murderer," I told him. "The pieces just fit. But it was meek little Tansy. To think that the strength of her love was so powerful that she would sacrifice herself for her husband and grandson. I wish I could've stopped her."
"You did your best," he said, and kissed my forehead.
"I wanted to tell her that she was making a mistake, that killing herself would hurt Herbert and Andrew, not help them. If I could have spoken, I might have been able to talk her out of it, Marco. I might have saved her and spared her family all that sorrow."
"Listen to me, Abby. You can't blame yourself. Tansy drugged your tea because she didn't want you to stop her. She would have taken those pills no matter what you said. She wasn't thinking rationally. You can't reason with someone in such a highly emotional state. And if you had talked her out of it, she would've gone to prison. Would that have been better? Would it have made Andrew feel any less guilty? Would Herbert not be as lost?"
"No. You're right." I took a sip of ginger ale and waited for the fizz to reach my stomach. "Did you find the letter addressed to Dave? It's Tansy's confession."
"The police have it. They've already let Dave know about it."
"It's amazing, isn't it, that despite all of Herbert's problems, Tansy never stopped loving him?"