Page 10 of View from Above
“I’d consider that a bonus.” He closed the distance between them, lowering his voice. “But, yeah. Instead of you using me to figure out how Roland Kotite really died, we’ll use each other. Two birds, one stone. Interested?”
Her gut clenched at the huskiness behind his words, almost as though he were trying to seduce her into seeing their partnership would be more beneficial if she agreed. Just as she had done to convince him to look into Roland’s case. Payton had a point. If Virginia Green’s death had, in fact, been murder as he and the ME theorized, Mallory owed it to herself to find out if there was a connection to her father. To put him and this whole mess behind her. To move on with her life. By whatever means she could. “Yes.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Virginia Green’s three-story bright yellow townhome fit right in in west Delridge. Well-kept lot, clean lines, mature trees, and fairly new in a growing area along the valley.
Payton strode along the damp sidewalk leading straight to a matching yellow door, Mallory close on his heels. He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking asking her to help with the investigation into the woman who’d jumped this morning. Civilians weren’t trained to undertake the responsibilities of cops or prepared to react if a home visit went sideways, as they most often did. But the thought of letting her slip right back out of his life until her father’s body could be exhumed had squeezed his throat like a vice.
There was a connection between these two deaths. He’d felt it down into his bones despite knowing he’d done everything by the book during the Roland Kotite investigation. He knocked under a decorative Halloween wreath and was rewarded with a shower of black and bright green glitter along his cuffs. Payton brushed it off as fast as possible. “Damn it. Herpes of the craft world.”
“At least if I lose you, I can just follow the glitter trail to find you.” She scanned the neighborhood. “Like gingerbread crumbs in Hansel and Gretel. Only more sparkly and animals won’t eat it.”
“Great.” A shadow passed behind the fogged semi-circle glass at the top of the door. Someone was home. Payton automatically squared his shoulders and maneuvered in front of Mallory, tugging his jacket back behind his holster. As much as he hated to admit it, she was growing on him, and it was his duty to ensure she walked away from this investigation alive.
The door protested on old hinges and exposed the red-eyed woman on the other side. She tucked a tissue under her nose. Thick brown hair fell in a pin straight waterfall over the woman’s Feminism is for Everyone t-shirt. Deep lines spread from weathered eyes and underscored the distress in her face. Lean and tall, Payton picked up an array of similarities between this woman and the one he’d examined under the sheet a mere hour ago. She sniffled, obviously not expecting company. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m Detective Nichols, this is Dr. Mallory Kotite.” He twisted to keep Mallory in his peripheral vision. “We’d like to speak with you about Virginia Green. You are?”
Rich hazel eyes lingered on Mallory for a moment before the woman sidestepped to let them inside. Recognition? “Angie Green. Her daughter. Please, come in. A State Patrol detective called me a little while ago. Trooper Wells, I think she said her name was. She told me what happened.” The tissue disappeared under Angie’s tanned forearm as she directed them into the living room right off the entrance. “I still can’t believe it. They’re saying my mother jumped off the Logan Building, but that doesn’t make sense.”
Payton’s boots reverberated off gray-brown hardwood floors running the length of the main floor of the home. Neutral beiges and whites with pops of rustic gold urged him to relax, but he’d been on enough of these calls to keep his guard in place. The family photos on the walls pictured the deceased with the daughter in front of them. Smiling. Hugging each other close. Effort had gone into making it look as though secrets hadn’t been molded in this very home, and the people inside had nothing to hide. He knew better. “What is it you can’t believe, Ms. Green?”
Angie took a seat in the center of a white sofa, that tissue still in hand. She peeled the folds apart and put them back together, but the damage had already been done. “Virginia… My mother wasn’t suicidal. She was happy. She had her family, her friends. Grandkids, even. We all loved her. She was planning on taking everyone in the family to Hawaii for her sixtieth birthday. She just made the arrangements. Tell me this is some kind of mistake, Detective. Please.”
Mallory rounded the small living space, seemingly taking everything in. Looking for connections? She wasn’t a profiler, but she did have the skills to get to the basic human truths so many people tended to ignore in situations like this. Same as he did. Small changes in body language, the slightest dip in tone, specific words they tended to use over and over—not easy to fake. But possible with training.
“I’m sorry to say it’s not.” Payton took a matching white seat opposite the couch, careful to make sure he hadn’t tracked anything inside to disturb the immaculate but warm fabric. “From the look of that photo, you and your mother were close?”
“Yes. We talked or saw each other nearly every day.” Angie Green squeezed her knees together to rest her elbows down. A fresh wave of tears overwhelmed her control as she stared up at the photo he’d mentioned. “I still haven’t told my kids. They’re going to be crushed.”
“Ms. Green, did you notice anything odd about your mother’s behavior lately?” Mallory asked. “Any changes to her routine or forgetting small things like where she put her keys or phone? Maybe random flashes of anger or sadness.”
“What?” Angie’s panicked gaze bounced from Mallory to Payton and back. The low rasp in the woman’s voice cleared. “No. Nothing like that. She was as sharp as ever. I’m sorry. I’m confused. He introduced himself as a detective, but who are you?”
“What about medications your mother would’ve been taking?” Payton tugged his notebook from his jacket. “Anything that needed to be administered, or recreational drugs?”
“She wasn’t taking any medications, and she wasn’t doing drugs.” Angie’s attention returned to him. “Excuse me, but I must be missing something here. A detective told me less than two hours ago my mother jumped from the roof of a building this morning, and you’re treating her as though she’s the one who’s done something wrong. What is going on?”
Caution kicked Payton in the gut. If there was one thing he’d learned from the serial streak Seattle had witnessed the past nine months, it’d been killers came in all shapes and sizes. With grudges. “Mrs. Green, your mother was found with evidence of a sedative in her system and a collection of injection sites at the back of her skull. Under the hairline. From what the ME could see, Virginia had been dosed a handful of times the past few weeks. The last one occurred mere minutes before her death. Would you know anything about that?”
“No. I don’t know anything about that.” Angie shook her head. “She doesn’t… I’m her power of attorney. She hasn’t been prescribed any medication, and if she was, her doctor would’ve told me.”
“Does she have a nurse or caretaker that visits with her occasionally?” he asked.
“No. My mom is on a fixed income. She gets her social security and a small amount from her pension every month. That’s it. She can’t afford anything like that. She can’t even afford this house. I pay the mortgage so she doesn’t have to worry about it, and even if she could afford a nurse, she didn’t need one. She was healthy.”
“You’re an only child.” Mallory seemed to confirm her theory from the photos hung on the beige walls and perfectly positioned over the fireplace mantel. Her gaze met his for a fraction of a second. “I know how much responsibility goes into caring for a parent, financially and physically. I’m having to do the same for my mother.”
“It was the least I could do after my dad died five years ago.” Angie buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just… None of this makes sense. Someone was drugging her? Why? And why wouldn’t she tell me?”
“She might’ve not wanted to worry you or give you a reason to invoke the power of attorney,” Mallory said. “Something must’ve happened for you to question her ability to take care of herself. There’s a certain amount of lost pride that comes with someone else telling you how to live your life.”
“She lost all of her savings and a trust she’d been gifted to a scammer about six months ago. Over half a million dollars that would’ve provided for her retirement. I didn’t want to be the one to start making decisions for her, but she didn’t really leave me any choice after that.” Angie pressed three fingers to her mouth. “Wait. You said she was drugged minutes before her death. Are you saying she didn’t commit suicide? That someone could’ve pushed her?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Payton slipped his pen back into his jacket pocket, pinching his small, ringed notebook in one hand. The edge of the cardstock bumped against the pulse in his fingers. They weren’t getting anywhere here. He stood. “Mrs. Green, do you mind if I take a look through the house? Make sure the locks on the doors and windows are secure?”
Angie stood, swiping one hand down her fitted jeans. “Sure. I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, but you’re welcome to check.” She seemed to soak in every detail of the living room. “Make sure it’s safe for the next owners.”