LITMIR.BIZ

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else?”

      “Who discovered Steven Moretti’s body?”

      He gave her a puzzled look and then replied, “I guess the paramedics. They tried to revive him, but were too late.”

      “I take it that he was alone when he died. Did somebody report him missing?”

      Wachterman replied, “He called 911 himself.”

      And peeking at the file in front of him he added, “This is what we know. Moretti called 911 on Sunday, April 8, at 6:30 in the evening, telling the dispatcher that he felt extremely ill. He complained of nausea and vomiting, abdominal pain, and diarrhea, which had started hours earlier. He first thought that he suffered from the 24-hour flu, but then got progressively worse. His heart had been racing, and when he made the call, he felt drowsy. By the time the paramedics got to him, he had apparently had a seizure, ending in a coma that led to his death.”

      Huber said, “That report definitely puts me in the picture. I presume that the authorities found oleander leaves mixed in with Steven Moretti’s loose leaf tea he drank that day. Correct?”

      “That is so. The poisonous leaves had been cut down to the same size as the tealeaves and were found blended in with the tea in the canister where Steven Moretti kept it. The police also discovered the used substance in the victim’s trash. And of course, the autopsy revealed oleander in his stomach.”

      She asked, “Had Mr. Moretti made a will?”

      “None came to light as far as we know. I will point out to the jury that the two had not been married yet, so Rachel Penrose is not inheriting Moretti’s money. And I’m sure the prosecution will claim that this was not a murder for gain, but rather a passion crime.”

      He looked at his watch and asked, “Anything else?”

      “No, I think that’s it. I’ll see Rachel Penrose to start with, and then I’ll go from there.”

      “Good luck. I hope you’ll get through to her.”

      “Why do you say that? Is she uncooperative?”

      “Unapproachable is more like it.”

      “How do you mean?”

      “You’ll see for yourself.”

      CHAPTER 4

      Peter and Regula Huber ’s longtime home stood in a town called Merida, located in the San Fernando Valley at the foot of the Angeles National Forest Mountains. Merida, in spite of its population of barely 10,000, boasted a variety of excellent restaurants, their favorite being Chez Tante Jeanne. On Wednesday evening, the couple opted to have dinner there.

      Maurice - - owner, host, and maître d’ all in one - - came to greet them at the door and escorted them to their table, saying, “So nice to see you both!”

      R. A. Huber decided on trout amandine and her spouse chose osso buco. They savored their respective meals and only after they had finished and ordered coffee did they start to converse.

      Peter said, “So what’s the occasion for dining at a fancy place in the middle of the week during a recession?”

      She smiled and replied, “I had two reasons for suggesting it. Number one, I wanted to cheer you up.”

      “Who said I need cheering up?”

      “Come now, Peter, you’ve been down in the dumps for days. Forget the not-so-favorable review of your latest book; after all, it’s the opinion of just one person.”

      “Not-so-favorable? It was a horrendous review! My integrity as a writer came under attack.”

      “Okay, so the reviewer made some disparaging remarks, but like I said, it’s only his opinion. Your book is a good read and you’ll soon get positive feedback from your fans.”

      “I hope you’re right. Thanks for the pep talk; I needed it. And to show you what a good sport I am, I’ve decided to take the reviewer ’s criticism to heart and learn from it.”

      “That’s the spirit!”

      Seated across from him, she glanced at his familiar features with appreciation. He had long turned prematurely gray, but now his hair gleamed snow white, and even his prominent eyebrows and mustache were getting lighter. The only thing unchanged over the years was his hazel eyes, forever steady and holding strength of character.

      The waitress brought their coffees and then Peter asked, “So what’s the other reason we’re here?”

      “Oh, I didn’t get a chance to go grocery shopping and fix us dinner.”

      He gave off a hearty laugh, which made her realize that his moping mood had passed, and his good-humored self was fully restored.

      Then he said, “Enough talk about me, how was your day?”

      “It started by my getting beaten at racquet ball.”

      “I guess you can’t always win,” he teased, “after all, you’re getting older.”

      “Getting older is no excuse; I wasn’t much younger last week when I won.”

      “Good point! So how did your interview with the lawyer go?”

      “It went surprisingly well. Stuck in traffic on the 405 driving to the West Side, I had plenty of time to think. I started to have doubts that Mr. Wachterman would give me any useful information.”

      Peter interjected, “I didn’t know that you had to drive that far. Where on the West Side is his office?”

      “It’s right on Wilshire Boulevard, close to UCLA.”

      “You could have paid Andi a visit.”

      “I thought about it on my way home, but decided not to call her since she’d probably be in class.”

      She picked up her train of thought again and continued, “Anyhow, when I called the attorney’s office yesterday, I only spoke with his secretary, and, on the drive over I suddenly feared that he may be tight-lipped and brush me off with declarations of lawyer/client confidentiality. I looked them up beforehand and learned that Rosenthal, Wachterman, & Vogel is a well-established law firm, and that its partners and associates all have excellent reputations. To my pleasant surprise, it turned out that Mr. Wachterman and I had a satisfying talk.”

      Peter put in, “Don’t forget, he and his client benefit if you come up with another viable suspect.”

      “Yes, I’m sure he realizes that. He said that we were on the same team. However, I got the distinct feeling that he does not think I’ll find another murderer. In his opinion, there is too much evidence against Rachel.”

      “Does he believe that his client is guilty?”

      “He didn’t admit as much but I came to that conclusion.”

      “You’ve got a tough job ahead, Regula!”

      “That’s me; always up for a challenge.”

      CHAPTER 5

      When R. A. Huber got to her office on the next day, she determined to learn a bit more about Rachel Penrose before setting up an interview with her. She called Jonathan Lighthart, and the receptionist told her that he was in consultation with a patient, but would she like to talk to the nurse. Huber insisted that she needed to speak with the doctor himself and left her name and number. Meanwhile, she got busy with some office chores, mainly preparing a bill for the client of her last case.

      Then she checked her e-mail and saw a message from Pamela of Rosenthal, Wachterman, & Vogel, which read, “Attached is a list of potential witnesses we have so far in the Rachel Penrose file. I left out the police officer who made the arrest since there is no chance that he would give you information before Rachel’s trial. I also did not include the expert witnesses, who Mr. Wachterman

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