Secret Prey

killed their mother and . . .’’
    Lucas trailed off and Sherrill said, ‘‘What? Again? Something else?’’
    ‘‘Yeah. What if Helen wasn’t here to defend herself?’’
    HELEN WAS WORKING AT THE AUTO PARTS PLACE. LUCAS found the name in the Yellow Pages, called her. ‘‘You’ve got to take time off, and meet us at your house,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘I’m sorry, but this is critical for both you and Connie. I’ll talk to your boss if you want.’’
    Lucas took the Porsche. Sherrill, getting the go-ahead from Frank Lester, trailed in a city car. The bomb squad was ten minutes behind her, a crime scene crew a few minutes behind that.
    Lucas thought of the lie that Audrey had told during the interrogation, how harsh, straightforward, how honest it seemed. But not unrehearsed. And there was a smugness about her when they came to take her away. She must have known that whatever case she could make against Helen would be denied by Helen, and that Helen’s denials might even be provable in some cases. She may have understood that Helen was simply more believable than she was. She might even have understood that finding a hank of hair with arsenic in it didn’t mean much unless Helen was there to swear that the hair had been taken from her mother . . .
    She must have deduced that the police case rested squarely on Helen; and that if Helen was dead, Audrey had all kinds of defenses available.
    And that little spark in her eyes, that smugness at the very end.
    She thought Helen was out of it. How would she do it? She’d used firebombs, guns, and poison. Guns were out, because she couldn’t have known that she’d be free. Some kind of bomb was possible. Some kind of poison.
    • • •
    HELEN ARRIVED: RESISTED. ‘‘I KNOW AUDREY. SHE would never do anything like this. Never. We’ve been together since we were children.’’
    ‘‘Mrs. Bell—we’re pretty sure she killed your mother and father . . .’’
    ‘‘She says she didn’t,’’ Bell said stubbornly.
    ‘‘We think she did. And if you don’t think there’s any chance, why did you give us that lock of hair?’’
    ‘‘I . . .’’
    ‘‘Believe what you want,’’ Sherrill said gently. ‘‘But just let us look. If we’re wrong, no harm has been done.’’
    NO BOMB.
    The bomb squad went in with sniffer equipment, found nothing. They checked the furnace and gas water heater for tampering or gas leaks. Nothing there either.
    ‘‘Pills,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘What kind of pills do you take? Aspirin? Something in capsules, I think . . .’’
    ‘‘Prozac,’’ she said. ‘‘I take Prozac.’’
    ‘‘Where do you keep it?’’ Sherrill asked.
    ‘‘In my bedroom.’’
    She got the bottle of Prozac and they poured the pills out on a clean garbage bag on the kitchen table. One of the crime scene techs had a hand glass, and Lucas used it to look at the capsules. After a minute, he shook his head. ‘‘I don’t see anything.’’
    ‘‘We do have aspirin,’’ she said. ‘‘Not in capsules, though.’’
    ‘‘We could take a look,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘And I’ve got some antibiotics left over from a cold last winter. And there’re some of those timed cold pills; now those are capsules, I think.’’
    ‘‘We’ll take them all,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘The problem is, we don’t want anything Connie would take. How about food? Is there any food that is absolutely yours, that Connie wouldn’t eat?’’
    ‘‘I’ve got some of that diet drink, but the cans are sealed . . .’’
    ‘‘We better take a look,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘Look: I’ve got to get back to work,’’ she said. ‘‘Since it’s not a bomb, maybe we could do it this evening?’’
    ‘‘I suppose,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘Jesus: it’s gotta be something.’’
    ‘‘Unless you’re wrong about her.’’
    ‘‘I’m not wrong,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘I’ve got . . .’’
    He heard the tinny music in the back of his head, but didn’t react until he noticed Helen looking at her purse, a peculiar expression on her face. ‘‘What?’’ he asked.
    ‘‘That’s my pillbox,’’ she said. ‘‘I keep a pillbox in my purse, it’s got a little alarm clock so I always take my pill at the same time every day. I just filled it up this morning.’’
    Lucas picked up the purse, clicked it open, found the pillbox. The box was playing ‘‘My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.’’
    ‘‘Push the button to stop it,’’ Helen said, as