“Precisely. It is the easiest murder to execute, perhaps the most difficult to solve.”
Because there’s not much evidence. When you use your strength, skill, or warped courage, you leave clues. When you plop a single pill into a slot, not so much.
Unless, of course, our killer was foolish enough to order a pound of cyanide on the Internet and have it shipped to his or her home.
“What about jewelry stores?” I say. “Should we see if any of our suspects have a connection with a business with a legitimate use for the cyanide?”
“Indeed so.”
Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe one of the cyanide buyers will be the store where Judith’s sister Shona buys all her clunky gold bracelets and baubles.
323 Bayview Drive in Lavallette is a two-story townhouse in a New England-looking condo complex on the bay side of the Barnegat Peninsula.
I read somewhere that young people with kids like the beach and surf side of any island; older folks like the calmer waters and boat docks on the bay side. In Lavallette, that’s the side where the sun sets, too. Makes sense, I guess. You probably watch more sunsets when you’re in your twilight years.
Joy Kochman is working as a live-in home health aide for a cranky couple called the Silberblatts.
“They both have Alzheimer’s,” she explains when we join her in the kitchen where she’s toweling up a mess that might’ve been breakfast. Lumpy puddles are splattered all over the kitchen table. I’m thinking oatmeal and bananas. “Mr. Silberblatt likes to sleep on the floor. His wife? She likes to wander. We had to pin her name and address on her blouse, like she was in pre-school.”
“Do you have a moment to answer a few questions?”
“Yeah. The meds kicked in. They’re taking naps in front of the TV. Let’s Make A Deal is good for that.”
Nurse Kochman looks to be forty, maybe fifty. Then again, she could be a lot younger. I have a feeling living full-time with the Silberblatts puts bags under your eyes. Her hair is cut short and combed to the side. Some streaks are brighter than others but you can tell she doesn’t have much time to fuss with it. She’s dressed in dark blue scrubs, the better to hide oatmeal splotches.
“As you may know,” says Ceepak, “your former employer, Dr. Arnold Rosen, passed away this weekend.”
“Yes. I read about that. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the services.” She opens up her arms in a gesture that takes in the enormity of her task as the Silberblatts’ caregiver.
“Understandable,” says Ceepak. “But you visited Dr. Rosen late last week?”
“Thursday. It’s my night off. One of the Silberblatts’ kids comes over, relieves me. They’re great. Five sons who live in the area. They all really love their parents even though their parents hardly even recognize them any more. We’re all starting to think Mom and Dad might be better off in a nursing home. But well, the boys want to keep them here, in familiar surroundings, for as long as possible.”
“How do the Silberblatt children compare to Dr. Rosen’s?” asks Ceepak, smoothly steering the interview in the direction he wants it to go.
Nurse Kochman makes a lip fart noise.
Sorry. She does.
“Night and day. These kids? They’re kind and respectful. To me and their parents. Those Rosens? What a nasty pair of vipers.”
Up goes Ceepak’s quizzical eyebrow. “How so?”