“Because the Bishop’s Landing coroner has ties to the Morelli family. Ulrich—he’s our private investigator, you know—suggested it after getting wind of possible Morelli involvement.”
“The Morellis?” It was like she was speaking French. And she had a private investigator and coroner on call? “What... what do they have to do with anything?”
“Your husband and I were working together on several issues,” Caroline said. “And many of those issues worked in opposition to the Morellis’ plans.”
“Plans for what?”
“Listen to me, Poppy.” Caroline was talking to me like I was a kindergartner which I resented but also probably needed. My brain was on fire. “Your husband had plenty of enemies. But I didn’t trust the coroner’s report, because of the Morelli connection. That’s why I hired a private coroner.”
Ronan set a cup of coffee at my elbow, and I jumped so high I nearly smacked it out of his hand.
Caroline reached over and opened the file again. I closed my eyes.
“Poppy. You can’t close your eyes against this. Jim’s gunshot wasn’t self-inflicted.”
I gaped at her. Laughed, incredulously. I was still dreaming. I had to be. “You’re saying someone else shot him?”
“That’s what the coroner report says. Someone shot him and tried to make it look like a suicide.”
“He’s a US senator,” I cried. “That’s... that’s an outrageous cover up.”
“I know.”
Ronan faded back into the shadows, but I was aware of him there. In the room. A magnet I could not ignore and felt myself bending towards, despite knowing I would get hurt. Despite knowing he did not want me bending towards him.
“How?” I cried. “How could someone cover that up?”
“The Morellis have a lot of power,” Caroline said. “And it all starts with the crime scene and with the original falsified coroner report. And with your statement.”
“My statement?”
“You told the police he’d been acting strange. Not sleeping. Home more than in the office. Combined with a falsified doctor’s report—”
“The doctor lied?” I asked.
“People will do anything for the right amount of money.”
“But why?”
“That’s not what’s important right now, Poppy,” she said.
“Not important?” I cried. “Am I still sleeping? Is this like... a stress dream?”
“Between your husband being murdered and the fire at your house; I fear that someone might be trying to hurt you, Poppy,” Caroline said.
“But why?” I was literally NO ONE. Hurting me, killing me would have no impact on the world. None whatsoever.
Caroline pushed her wine glass away and grabbed my hand. “Your sister—”
I jerked my hand back. “No.”
“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought it.”
“She wouldn’t hurt me. Zilla wouldn’t hurt me. I mean, killing the senator, maybe... if she was in one of her manic phases. But covering it up like that? She doesn’t have that kind of power.” I stood up. Frantic and strange in my body. Two families had that kind of power—the Morellis and the Constantines. “How do they know he was killed by someone else? The coroner you hired, what did he find out that the other guy lied about?”
“The angle of the bullet through his skull.” Caroline said. “No residue on his hands.”
“This can’t be true.”