They’d have a bit of a word about that one later.
For now, she was worried about the missus. Probably gone to bed with that headache, she thought. And without a bite to eat.
Since the bedroom door was closed, she knocked softly, then opened it to peek in.
There was Mrs. Straffo in bed, a tray across her lap, and a cup overturned on it. Fell asleep sitting up, poor lamb, spilled the tea, Cora thought, and moved forward quietly to take it away.
She saw the pill bottle then, the empty bottle lying on the duvet.
“Oh, Mother of God. Sweet Jesus. Missus!” She grabbed Allika’s shoulders, shook. When there was no response, she slapped her once, twice.
Terrified, she grabbed for the bedside ’link.
Are you troubled by this situation on a personal level?” Mira asked.
“I haven’t decided.” Eve was running hot, sirens screaming. “I don’t know if I didn’t look at her hard enough, straight enough, right from the get because I didn’t want to, because I was fucked up about Roarke, or because it just didn’t click. Probably won’t ever know.”
“Do you want to know what I think?”
“Yeah, sure. You stupid son of a bitch, don’t you hear the sirens?”
“I think…” And Mira decided she’d just close her eyes so the image of oncoming death by traffic wouldn’t distract her. “No one would have looked at her hard enough or straight enough initially. We’re wired to protect the young, not to believe them capable of premeditated murder. You may be right about her, about all of it. I believe you’re right about what happened to her brother. However, my opinion on this veers more heavily toward Arnette Mosebly.”
“Fifty.”
“Fifty what?”
“I got fifty that says I’m right, you’re wrong.”
“You want to bet on a murderer?”
“It’s just money.”
“All right,” Mira said after a moment. “Fifty it is.”
“Done. Now I’ll tell you why she didn’t do it. The school’s her core, her pride, her vanity. Maybe she could kill, but she’d do it off school grounds. She wouldn’t bring that kind of publicity, that kind of smear to her beloved Sarah Child. This is costing her students. And it’s probably going to cost her her job.”
“A good argument, but self-preservation supersedes even a treasured job. If Foster knew about her relationship with Williams, he was a direct threat—and may have told her he intended to report her. Williams, by her own statement, did just that, in an attempt to blackmail her into keeping him on.”
“Want to make it a hundred?”
Before Mira could answer, Eve’s communicator signaled again. “Okay, what now? Dallas.”
“Dallas, Allika Straffo’s on her way to the hospital. OD’d. Her condition is critical.”
“Where’s the kid?”
“The au pair took her. They left right after the ambulance, took a cab to Parkside, it’s the closest. I missed this by minutes, again. First on scene said the kid was hysterical.”
“I bet she was. You in the penthouse?”
“I came up to talk to the cops who responded to the nine-one-one. MTs were called in by the au pair. Reported overdose, which sent out the uniforms.”
“I want the diary. Find it. I’m headed to the hospital.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Mira shifted in her seat when Eve whipped the wheel. “If this woman couldn’t face the idea that her daughter killed and tried—or succeeded—in self-terminating, it isn’t on you.”
“The fact that I didn’t figure the kid would kill her own mother is on me. If Allika Straffo swallowed a fistful of pills, it’s because that little bitch gave them to her. Goddamn it.”