Megan blinked. “The money?”
“You got it. Makes the world go round, right?”
“She married you for a cop’s salary?”
Carl grinned. “Hardly. Naw, my dad was loaded. He was R. F. Cantrell, the construction magnate. You may have heard of him-built half of Oklahoma City. Left me three million bucks.”
“Three million? But then-why were you-”
“I don’t have it yet,” he explained. “It’s held in trust. Dad wanted to make sure the moolah didn’t prevent me from making something of myself. Hell of a joke, huh? Right now, I barely get enough to live on. But when I hit forty, two years from now, I get it all.”
Megan felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Carl, if something happens to you, who gets the money?”
Carl shrugged. “I’m not really sure. My heirs, I guess.”
“Have you made a will?”
“A long time ago. Just after …” He paused. “After I got married.”
“And who inherits? Under your will.”
Carl’s voice became distinctly quieter. “Bonnie does. She gets everything.”
“And you didn’t change your will? After your divorce?”
“No. I never thought about it. And of course deep down, even though I’d never admit it, I always hoped we’d get back together again. I think she does, too, deep down. She told me so on the phone. I wasn’t hallucinating; she really said it. She told me how much …”
Carl went on, but Megan wasn’t listening anymore. A dark thought had lodged in her brain, and now that it had established itself, she was having a hard time pushing it aside. It seemed incredible. But what if…
Megan rose out of her chair.
“Where are you going?” Carl asked.
“Police station,” she murmured. “I want to do some checking.”
“On what?”
“I’ll tell you when I return.” She started toward the door, then stopped. “Just promise me this. Promise you won’t do anything foolish. Until I get back, just stay put and stay out of trouble, okay?”
“Well, I guess, but-”
“Please. I’ll be back as soon as possible. And maybe, just maybe”-she headed out the door-“maybe this time I’ll actually understand what’s going on.”
17
“Lady, I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But if you could just help me-”
“No. I’m sorry. Absolutely not.”
“But I have to learn-”
“I said no.”
Megan ran her hand through her thick black hair. Dealing with Barney Palmer, the man in toxicology, was proving more difficult than she had imagined. So far, he had been utterly unwilling to augment the information he had given her over the phone.
“But you’re certain that the Chinese food was poisoned.”
“I already told you that.” Palmer was a paunchy man with sandy hair and a slightly receding hairline. He was maybe five or six years younger than Megan. “Sergeant Conner told me to advise you of that fact. But he didn’t instruct me to tell you anything else.”
“This could be of critical importance. Surely you’ve given out this sort of information in the past.”
“Actually I haven’t. This isn’t really my job.”
Her eyebrows rose. “It isn’t?”
“No, I’m just filling in.”
“What do you normally do?”
He appeared more than a bit miffed. “I’m the coroner. Didn’t you know?”
Megan thought carefully before speaking. “Should I?”
“I’ve been on the evening news. Twice now.” He made a minute adjustment to the lay of his tie. “Phil Coburn normally works toxicology, but he’s off making merry, so they asked me to fill in. I guess they figured I already stank permanently of formaldehyde. A few more chemical odors couldn’t do me any harm.”
Megan tried to steer the conversation back to the topic. “I still need more information about this alleged poisoning-”
“Then fill out the forms. Get authorization from my boss.”
“Your boss isn’t in. It’s Christmas Eve, remember?”
“How could I forget?” All at once Palmer slumped down into a chair. “It’s Christmas Eve, and here I am all by myself, the only man on duty in forensics, the only soul so pathetic he’s still at work.”
This was a somewhat unexpected turn of events. “Drew the short straw, huh?”
“Hell no. I volunteered.”
“Volunteered? To work Christmas Eve?”
He waved a hand in the air. “Not like I had anything better to do.”
Megan’s head tilted to one side. Now she was beginning to get the picture. “No holiday plans?”
“My family all lives in Europe, and I can’t possibly afford to visit.”
“No wife?”
“Not even a girlfriend.” He let out a long sigh. “Look-you’re a woman; right?”
“I think so.”
“Then you tell me. What’s my problem? Why can’t I get a date?”
Megan suddenly felt flushed. “I don’t know. Could it be… because you’re a coroner?”
Barney’s head dropped. “That’s what I figured. And that’s so unfair. There’s nothing wrong with being a coroner. It’s really a very sexy profession.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear about this.”
“I don’t mean in that way, you sicko. I just mean it’s exciting, glamorous. Working side by side with the detectives, solving crimes.”
“You get to do that?”
“Not often.” He winked. “But the women don’t know that.”
Megan suppressed a smile. “Barney, you’re a very likeable person. I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. If you just wait patiently, in time-”
“Oh, spare me the Father Knows Best speech. I’m hopeless. Whatever it is women like, I don’t have it.”
A lightbulb suddenly lit above Megan’s head. “Barney, I may have something for you.” After inspecting the contents of her shoulder bag, she pulled out the book she had gotten from the nurse-receptionist.
Barney read the cover. “‘How to Catch and Keep the Mate of Your Dreams.’” He looked up. “And you carry this around in your purse? Man, you must be worse off than I am.”
Megan coughed. “Actually, it was a gift.”
“Yeah, right.” He thumbed through the pages. “Still, it can’t do any harm. Mind if I hold on to this for a while?”
“No, please. Keep it. It’s yours. Merry Christmas.”
His eyes softened a bit. “Really? Hey, thanks.” He turned abruptly. “Here, let me get you something.”
Megan held up her hands. “Don’t bother. I-”
“No, I want to.” He walked over to his desk and pulled a small object out of a box. “Here. You take this.”
Megan held out her hands and received the gift. It appeared to be a small plastic reproduction of a school bus. “Gee, thanks.”
“My sister sent it to me. Apparently it’s all the rage in Europe.”
Megan tried to imagine it-a tiny plastic bus was all the rage …
“It’s a record player.”
She looked up. “Beg your pardon?”
“A record player. See?” He flipped over the bus. “That’s the needle on the underside. These holes on the sides are speakers. The wheels make it go around in a circle.”
“But how-”
“You put it on top of a phonograph record, and as it drives around in a circle on top, the needle plays the music, which comes out the speakers. Ingenious, huh?”
“More like incredible.”
“Sounds like hell, of course, and it destroys the record. But it’s a great gimmick, don’t you think?”
“Great isn’t quite the word.” She opened her purse. “You’re sure you want to part with this?”
He waved his hand. “Oh, yeah. It’s a CD world now, right? I sold off all my LPs a long time ago.”
“Swell.” She dropped the bus in and closed her purse. “Well, if you’re sure you can’t help, me…”