Based on what Clement had described, he was in stage two of five, which was where hallucinations and panic attacks started to be noticeable to others. There was no known cure for fatal insomnia. There wasn’t even a useful treatment. In seventy-five percent of cases, sleeping pills actually made the condition worse, so most specialists refused to prescribe them.
There wasn’t much information available, but I read everything I could find until Chief McTavish called me in.
Clement wanted to tell Chief McTavish that he didn’t know what had happened. While it would have been the truth, it was practically a cliché, and it would have made Chief McTavish more certain he was guilty. Telling him about the dream would have been even worse. I believed Clement, but it sounded like a crazy lie.
Instead, I convinced Clement to sit quietly and let me do the talking.
“Your wife is willing to testify against you.” Chief McTavish, as expected, addressed Clement.
A lawyer wasn’t personally invested, so they couldn’t be goaded. Their client could. McTavish was a good officer, and he knew how to focus on the weakest link, and the spot where his suspect would be most vulnerable.
“What does that say to you?” McTavish asked.
If we hadn’t been dealing with a murder, I would have called it cruel. But McTavish was only doing his job the same way I was. As much as I disliked it, I couldn’t hold it against him. The quicker the police found the truth, the quicker they could eliminate suspects and arrest the real killer.
Thankfully, it’d only be my job until I could turn the case over to Anderson, and all I had to do was not screw it up too badly for him.
I stretched a hand toward Clement to remind him not to answer, no matter how much it felt like McTavish was scooping his heart out with a spoon. “It says that the Dodds are law-abiding people who want to help.”
McTavish gave a slow nice-try head shake. “To me, it says he’s guilty, and his wife knows it. She saw him standing over the body.”
“But she didn’t see him kill the victim.”
“Look.” Chief McTavish made sure to catch Clement’s gaze and mine before continuing. “This case isn’t complicated. If the blood on Mr. Dodd comes back as a match for Gordon Albright, I’ll be making the arrest for Albright’s murder. There are no other possible suspects here. We have a witness who came upon the scene moments after the crime. I’m too busy to waste time arguing in circles, so this is your last chance. If he confesses now, I’ll speak to the DA about not asking for the harshest penalty the way he otherwise would given the brutality of the attack.”
Clement leaned toward me. “If I did this, I should be locked away,” he whispered.
It was the if that made me hesitate. I wasn’t comfortable giving up and letting them book him for a crime he didn’t remember committing, especially considering how short his life expectancy was. Going to trial would buy us time.
I shifted so that I could speak directly into Clement’s ear. “If you did this, you should be in a mental health facility or a hospital, not in prison. First, we need to be sure you’re the one responsible.”
Besides, the police always made a case seem more solid than it usually was.
I folded my hands on top of the table. “Hypothetically, let’s assume my client did kill Gordon Albright. It still isn’t murder. Michigan has the castle doctrine. There’s no duty to retreat before using deadly force on an intruder in your own home. Gordon Albright was in the Dodds’ home, in the dark. He didn’t live there. If my client woke up to see an intruder, he was within his legal right to act to defend himself.”
Clement twitched beside me. Chief McTavish’s gaze dipped in his direction. He’d spotted it too.
And I could think of only one thing it could mean. Gordon Albright wasn’t an intruder in their home. He’d been invited.
“You’re welcome to argue that in the preliminary hearing,” Chief McTavish said, “but I think I like our chances.”
4
Never make assumptions, my dad always said. It’ll end in you looking the fool.
I’m sure if Anderson had already been on the case, he wouldn’t have made the same mistake. I’d grown up with my dad and been trained by my dad, but Anderson practically wanted to be him.
Both of them would be shaking their heads in dismay at me now.
The police could hold a person for up to twenty-four hours before they had to either charge them with a crime or release them. Chief McTavish made it clear he planned to detain Clement, and that if they didn’t have the blood results back by tomorrow, he’d apply to have the hold extended due to the severity of the crime.
Before Chief McTavish took Clement to the holding cells, I insisted on a minute alone with him and confirmed what I already knew. Gordon had been invited. Apparently, he came every morning at that time for breakfast. Chief McTavish would know it too as soon as he asked Clement’s wife, and then the castle defense would be null.
Since Anderson hadn’t called me back, I tried his office as soon as I reached my car. His receptionist told me he was in court all day. Given that it was only noon, I couldn’t wait around the police station to introduce him to Clement. I’d have to wait to pass the case over.
Which meant I should go back to Sugarwood. I’d had a full day of work ahead of me before Clement called. Nancy and I were supposed to be packaging up the maple syrup lollipops molded in the shape of maple leafs for a wedding consignment order. Then Nancy and Stacey had asked to meet with me about expanding our product line. Even though Stacey was supposed to be on maternity leave and still hadn’t told me if she planned to stay on at Sugarwood afterward, she and Nancy had all kinds of ideas about maple nougats and maple syrup fruit spreads and maple syrup truffles. Nancy promised to provide me with tasting samples.
I pulled my car out onto the road. I dug around inside myself, trying to find the same excitement for working at Sugarwood that I heard when Nancy and Stacey talked—the same excitement I’d felt driving up to the museum this morning. All I felt when thinking about a day of logistical and product meetings was tired.
Then again, if I couldn’t find a way to practice as a lawyer without failing my clients in court, I might end up working at Sugarwood for the rest of my days. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I did enjoy testing the maple syrup products. I definitely enjoyed traipsing around the woods, which was good considering I needed the exercise after testing the maple syrup products.
And if Stacey turned down the assistant manager position and Russ’ health failed, I’d have no choice.
The memory of Russ struggling to breathe turned my stomach into a heavy ball that felt too big for the space my body had to hold it.
Since he didn’t have any family, we’d talked about him needing to choose someone who’d be able to help him and make decisions for him as he aged. I hadn’t realized when I brought it up that I’d be the one he asked. Right now, all that meant was that I was on file at the pharmacy as being allowed to pick up medications and speak to the pharmacist on his behalf. I’d picked up his high blood pressure medication before when I was running errands.
Even though Russ hadn’t asked me to pick anything up this time, I had to do something. If he wasn’t taking a newly prescribed medication, he was putting himself at greater risk. I couldn’t make him take it. I couldn’t make him take better care of himself. But I wouldn’t sit by and watch him slowly kill himself, either.
Sugarwood business could wait an extra ten minutes.
I took a left at the next light instead of going right to head back to Sugarwood. I’d just swing by the pharmacy and make sure Russ had picked up any medications his doctor called in.
Like most businesses in Fair Haven, the pharmacy wasn’t part of a big chain. The large red-and-white sign on the front of the building carried the name Dr. Horton’s Drug Store.
Also, like most businesses in Fair Haven that catered to locals rather than tourists, it didn’t have a cutesy name. I did know now, though, that the owner not only wasn’t a doctor, his name also wasn’t Horton. It was an inside joke for the locals. Horton was a character in the children’s book Horton Hears a Who by Dr. Seuss, who also hadn’t been a doctor at all. The owner’s real name was Victor Kristoffersen—a last name so long it wouldn’t have fit on the small sign even if he had wanted to use it.
I entered the store. Saul Emmitt, the pharmacist, was the only one behind the pharmacy counter, as usual. Last spring, when he’d needed major reconstructive back surgery, he hadn’t even taken the full medical leave of absence his doctor recommended. Mr. Kristoffersen himself filled in for a couple of weeks despite being semi-retired, but I suspected that Saul was his only employee. Dr. Horton’s even closed on the weekends, which was something I still hadn’t adapted to, coming from a city where many pharmacies stayed open 24/7.
