A Dollhouse to Die For(117)
“I was?” I stared at him, openmouthed. “About what?”
“About our boy, Chip Rosenthal. We found the second remote that killed Sophie Rosenthal. In his apartment. He didn’t even bother to hide it, the gavoon. It was sitting right there in his bathroom cabinet.”
He took a deep slug of his coffee. “That’s Sophie’s murder accounted for, anyway. We still don’t know who killed Harriet.”
I sank back on my stool while I tried to marshal my scrambling thoughts.
Serrano smiled at me as I frowned in concentration. “Now what’s the matter?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Somehow this all seems too pat, too convenient.”
He eyed the brownies on the cake stand as if willing them to defrost. “What if PJ made up the story about that will that Sophie might have written? All we have to go on is what she’s fed us from her supposed conversations with Harriet. What if she planned to kill Chip all along and concocted this whole story to throw us off the track?”
“I can’t believe that PJ is a killer. Plus she was out of the country.”
Serrano wasn’t giving up. “Okay, so what if knocking off Sophie was a plot between the two of them? But then Chip reneged, kept all the money. She got her revenge and also figured out how to stick him with the blame.”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know, Serrano. I know that I’m naïve sometimes, but I just don’t see it.”
“And how about Harriet? You don’t think ol’ Chip could have rewired the dollhouse?”
I thought for a moment. “He was more like Marybeth,” I finally said. “He was the type to have other people do things for him. So yes, if he hired someone to break into Harriet’s house and rewire the dollhouse, I could buy it.”
But Birch Kunes was suddenly popping back into my mind, with his casual run under the garage doors, the password that Harriet never changed, and his urgency to sell the house.
“Oh, crap, none of this makes any sense,” Serrano said. “It’s a month after Harriet’s death and we’re no closer to finding out who killed her and now there’s two other murders.”
“Hey, if it was an easy job being a detective, everyone would be doing it.” I smiled gently at him. “You know, it’s ironic. I was convinced that Chip was the guilty party for the longest time, and now I’m not so sure. Now I’m actually leaning toward Birch Kunes.”
Serrano shook his head. “Think I might have had tunnel vision in that respect. I’ve got this thing about guys that cheat. But I don’t think he did it.” He drew a deep breath and settled against the counter. “There’s something I’ve never told you, Daisy.”
I held my breath, too, knowing he was about to tell me his story, except I’d already heard it from Eleanor. I schooled my face to look like this was the first time I’d heard the information.
“About a year ago, my older sister got breast cancer. She was fifty years old and perfectly healthy up until that point. She didn’t smoke, hardly drank, it was a complete shock to all of us. But she was brave, Daisy. She went through the surgery, the chemo, the radiation, the hair loss, all of it, without ever complaining. She was my hero.”
I swallowed and nodded.
“But while she was going through hell, her scuzzball husband was carrying on an affair. As she lay there suffering, with chemo ripping through her veins, he was banging his secretary.”
Serrano jumped to his feet as if the memory charged him with adrenaline. “I found out about it, and I have to admit, I went a little crazy. Beat the crap out of him. It didn’t do any good, though. It didn’t make me feel any better. And Shelly died a month later. And then my mom, too.”