Love Can Be Murder

asked.
    "Hi, it's Roxann."
    "There you are—no one knew how to get in touch with you. Have you heard the good news? We're not murderers."
    Roxann laughed. "That's a relief. So you heard about Cape?"
    "The police held a press conference a couple of hours ago. We've been celebrating with red Jell-O."
    "We?"
    "Mother and Dad and Mike and me. Oh, and Nell is coming by."
    Roxann frowned. "Nell?"
    "She's looking for you, and I told her to come on over because I was sure you'd call or drop by."
    "When did she get back in town?"
    "Overnight bus. She said the chancellor of the university called her at two o'clock this morning to give her the good news about Cape. Are you coming?"
    "Yes. Mason still wants us to take a polygraph—tomorrow afternoon."
    "Then can we go home?"
    "As soon as you're up to it."
    "I'm still plenty sore, but I'm ready to get out of here."
    "Me, too. I'll see you in a few minutes. Oh...is Dee there?"
    "Nope. She and Father went out for brunch. They promised to sneak me in a mimosa."
    "Do you need anything else?"
    "A box of Ho Hos would be nice."
    She grinned. "I'll see what I can do." She gave Angora the number at the hotel and her room number, then hung up, feeling better than in weeks, maybe months. It was scary to think how close they'd come to being tried for a crime they didn't commit. She picked up the Magic 8 Ball and turned it over several times.
    Yes, definitely.
    Yes, definitely.
    Yes, definitely.
    "Oh, now you say yes," she muttered.
    The phone rang, startling her so badly she dropped the ball and watched it roll under the credenza as she picked up the receiver. It was probably Angora getting in her order for a supersized bag of Cheetos. "Hello?"
    "Is this Roxann Beadleman?" a woman asked.
    "Yes. Who's this?"
    "My name is Tanya Chasen—you called the alumni office yesterday asking for help locating Elise James."
    "Yes, I know she participated in a couple of fund-raising events—I thought the office might have a record of where she's staying while she's in town."
    "Are you a friend of Elise's?"
    "Yes. We were roommates until about two months ago."
    "Oh. Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Elise is...dead."
    Her throat closed. "Wh-what happened?"
    "Drug overdose. Her body was found in the bathroom of a local club a couple of nights ago, with no ID. The morgue was holding her as a Jane Doe until someone thought to bring her picture to our office. We identified her from a photo taken during a marathon last weekend." The woman's voice broke. "She came in second place."
    Overdose. Roxann was shocked, but not surprised—Elise seemed determined to play Russian roulette with every known vice, yet push herself to the limit as an athlete. She thanked the woman and hung up slowly. Carl, dead. Elise, dead. It was almost too much to absorb. She allowed the news to sink in, then sent a prayer to the ceiling for Elise, remorseful that she had suspected the woman of ransacking her apartment, and far worse—of killing Carl. Poor Elise was a mixed-up soul, searching for an excuse and a panacea, and she'd found neither in her short life.
    She sighed, then chased down the Magic 8 Ball, deciding she'd feel much better once she saw Angora and Nell. She lay on her stomach, and reached under the credenza, feeling for the toy, trying not to think about what else might be under there.
    Her hand met paper, and she pulled out a copy of the first page of the medical examiner's report on Carl's death. It must have fallen out of Capistrano's file. She scanned the sheet, reminded once again that Carl had died so needlessly. If she had only listened to Capistrano and set up the video meeting with Melissa earlier, this entire tragedy could have been avoided. Frank Cape needed never to have set foot in South Bend. She pressed her lips together, feeling a good cry coming on, then stopped at the sight of Carl's full name. She remembered seeing his middle initial stenciled on the glass door of his office, but she'd never asked him what it stood for.
    As Roxann stared at the name, a hot flush climbed her face. At first the implication seemed too outrageous, but as her mind sifted clues and conversations and observations, her hazy theory began to take on a shape, and a face. Her insides heaved, and sweat broke out on her temples.
    Angora.

Chapter Thirty-two

    HER INCISIONS WERE ITCHING AGAIN . Angora wiggled in the hospital bed and tried to think the twinges away, then went back to reading the Slim Down Now!