Secret Prey

found it empty. Audrey McDonald’s car license-plate number was put on the air, along with a description. She was eating at Baker’s Square Restaurant, having waited impatiently all afternoon. Two cops went by while she was inside, but she missed them all going back home. At seven, the uniformed cops swung by her house again, and saw lights.
    Audrey McDonald came to the door.
    SHERRILL CALLED: ‘‘WE’RE SUPPOSED TO GO OUT TO dinner tonight.’’
    ‘‘Damn it, I’m sorry—but we’re busting Audrey Mc-Donald right now,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘All right. Tomorrow for sure.’’
    ‘‘Tomorrow.’’
    AUDREY WAS PROCESSED THROUGHTHE COUNTYJAIL, then taken to an interview room to wait for her attorney.
J. B. Glass arrived a half hour later, a little white wine under his belt. He found Lucas waiting outside the interview room with Sloan, and said, ‘‘What the hell happened?’’
    ‘‘Your client’s a serial killer,’’ Sloan said laconically.
    ‘‘What, Sugar Pops or shredded wheat?’’ Glass said.
    ‘‘Her mother and father for starters,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘You’re really telling me I’ve got a millionaire client who might be a serial killer?’’ Glass asked in a hushed voice. He rolled his eyes to the heavens, the view toward which extended twenty-eight inches to the basement ceiling. ‘‘I don’t want to seem cynical, but . . . thank you, Jesus.’’
    Then he was all business: ‘‘I want privacy with my client.’’
    ‘‘She’s in the room,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘Have you talked to her?’’
    ‘‘Nobody’s talked to her,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘She opened the door to her house and said, ‘I want my attorney.’ Nobody’s said a word to her since, except ‘Stand up, sit down, turn to the right.’ ’’
    ‘‘Good.’’ Glass nodded. ‘‘I’ll tell you, though, it’s gonna be a while before you can see her.’’
    ‘‘We can wait,’’ Lucas said.
    THEY WAITED. GLASS TALKED TO HER FOR A HALF hour, asked Lucas if he could get a couple of cans of Diet Pepsi for them. Lucas walked through the dark hallways to a Pepsi machine, got two cans, walked back, passed them through the door.
    ‘‘Thanks,’’ Glass said, as he shut the door.
    Another twenty minutes passed, and then Glass opened the door and said, ‘‘Come in.’’
    Sloan led the way, carrying a portable tape recorder. Lucas nodded at Audrey. She fixed him for a moment with her cobra eyes, then broke off and looked down at the table. When Sloan was ready, and had a cassette running, he said, ‘‘This is a preliminary interview with Mrs. Audrey Mc-Donald, in the presence of her attorney, Jason Glass, conducted by Detectives Sloan and Davenport.’’
    He ran the machine back to make sure it was working, replayed the statement, pushed record again, added the time and date, and turned to McDonald.
    ‘‘Mrs. McDonald, you have been rearrested after the revocation of your bail granted after the killing of your husband, Wilson McDonald . . . The bail revocation, however, is based on what we believe was the murder of your mother, Amelia Lamb.’’
    ‘‘I did no such thing. I loved my mother,’’ she said, calmly.
    ‘‘Mrs. McDonald, did you know that your sister saved a lock of your mother’s hair after she died?’’
    ‘‘Yes, I knew that.’’
    ‘‘We had the hair sample analyzed by the state crime laboratory, Mrs. McDonald, and the hair was found to contain amounts of arsenic which would be lethal to a human being.’’
    ‘‘I don’t know anything about that,’’ she said.
    ‘‘Um, do you know where she lived—Mrs. Lamb—at the time she died?’’ Glass asked Lucas.
    ‘‘In Lakeville.’’
    ‘‘Have the police inspected the house they lived in?’’
    ‘‘Not yet.’’
    ‘‘It was a very old house—you find arsenic all over the place in those old houses. It’s in the wallpaper, the paint, people used it all the time to spray for bugs. Mrs. Lamb may have had arsenic in her hair, but there’s no reason to think that my client put it there. In fact, she did not.’’
    ‘‘Did you get large insurance payments from both the death of your father and your mother, Mrs. McDonald?’’ Sloan asked.
    ‘‘She won’t answer that,’’ Glass said. He looked down at Audrey. ‘‘That’s something we’ve got to look into ourselves, before we start discussing it.’’
    ‘‘Did you use the insurance payments to put yourself through St. Anne’s, where you met