In Death 24 - Innocent in Death

Straffo was feeling blue.
    Some tea, maybe a little soup, a nice nap. Those were the tickets.
     
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    Cora got off the subway, climbed up the steps to street level and began to walk through the blustery air. She was so lucky to have a position like this, with such a lovely family in such a beautiful home in such an exciting city.
    The girl was fun and bright-a bit testy now and then, sure, but neat as a pin. And so interested in every little thing. And never did you hear a raised voice or dodge a thrown dish, as you would as a matter of course in her own house back in Ireland.
    Truth be told, she missed the yelling and carryings-on from time to time. But she couldn’t ask for a better position with a nicer family.
    She smiled at the doorman, gave him a bit of a flirt. Now if that one had asked her to a vid matinee, she might have ignored those pricks in her conscience.
    She took out her key as she rode up to the top. When she let herself in, it was so quiet, she wondered if she’d overreacted and Mrs. Straffo and Rayleen had gone out to lunch and the salon after all.
    Wouldn’t she justkick herself if she’d wasted the subway fare!
    She called out, got no answer. Rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you an arse, Cora?”
    She nearly turned right around and went back out, but decided to glance in the coat closet first. Surely if the missus had gone out, she’d have worn a coat, and there were none missing that she could see.
    She called out again as she started upstairs.
    And there was Rayleen, sitting at her desk in her room with her headset on while she worked on her art. No point in bothering her, Cora thought, though she did raise her eyebrows at the snack of chocolate cake and a fizzy on the desk.
    They’d have a bit of a word about that one later.
    For now, she was worried about the missus. Probably gone to bed with that headache, she thought. And without a bite to eat.
    Since the bedroom door was closed, she knocked softly, then opened it to peek in.
    There was Mrs. Straffo in bed, a tray across her lap, and a cup overturned on it. Fell asleep sitting up, poor lamb, spilled the tea, Cora thought, and moved forward quietly to take it away.
    She saw the pill bottle then, the empty bottle lying on the duvet.
     
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    “Oh, Mother of God. Sweet Jesus. Missus!” She grabbed Allika’s shoulders, shook.
    When there was no response, she slapped her once, twice.
    Terrified, she grabbed for the bedside ’link.
    Are you troubled by this situation on a personal level?” Mira asked.
    “I haven’t decided.” Eve was running hot, sirens screaming. “I don’t know if I didn’t look at her hard enough, straight enough, right from the get because I didn’t want to, because I was fucked up about Roarke, or because it just didn’t click. Probably won’t ever know.”
    “Do you want to know what I think?”
    “Yeah, sure. You stupid son of a bitch, don’t youhear the sirens?”
    “I think…” And Mira decided she’d just close her eyes so the image of oncoming death by traffic wouldn’t distract her. “No one would have looked at her hard enough or straight enough initially. We’re wired to protect the young, not to believe them capable of premeditated murder. You may be right about her, about all of it. I believe you’re right about what happened to her brother. However, my opinion on this veers more heavily toward Arnette Mosebly.”
    “Fifty.”
    “Fifty what?”
    “I got fifty that says I’m right, you’re wrong.”
    “You want to bet on a murderer?”
    “It’s just money.”
    “All right,” Mira said after a moment. “Fifty it is.”
    “Done. Now I’ll tell you why she didn’t do it. The school’s her core, her pride, her vanity. Maybe she could kill, but she’d do it off school grounds. She wouldn’t bring that kind of publicity, that kind of smear to her beloved Sarah Child. This is costing her students. And it’s probably going to cost her her job.”
    “A good argument, but self-preservation supersedes even a treasured job. If Foster knew about her relationship with Williams, he was a direct threat-and may have told her he intended to report her. Williams, by her own statement, did just that, in an attempt to blackmail her into keeping him on.”
    “Want to make it a hundred?”
     
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    Before Mira could answer, Eve’s communicator signaled again. “Okay, what now?
    Dallas.”
    “Dallas, Allika Straffo’s on her way to the hospital. OD’d. Her condition is