eyes. She almost hated to admit it to herself, but she did believe him. She really did.
“I know I’ve been acting crazy,” Carl said. “Been that way all day. I don’t know why. It’s—it’s something about the holiday. All this Christmas peace-on-earth-and-goodwill-toward-man stuff. Presents. Families getting together. Except me. I don’t have anyone.” His lips pressed together. “I used to love Christmas. Tommy and me—we both loved it. Back before the split. It was a truly special day.” He laughed. “I have this ratty old Santa suit; he loved it when I dressed up in that thing. He knew it was really me, but—somehow it didn’t matter, you know? We just—” His voice wavered; he stopped till he regained control. “We just had so much fun together.”
Megan looked down quietly. “I’m sorry, Carl.”
“All day I kept dreaming that eventually this nightmare would end. Bonnie would dump Frank, I’d get straightened out—we would be one happy family again. But it didn’t happen.” His jaw clenched. “I had to face facts. I’d been kidding myself since the day we were married. All along I’d been telling myself, Don’t be so suspicious. It’s you she loves. Really it is.” He shook his head. “But it wasn’t. It never was. It was the money.”
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
“L ADY, 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
“I know I’ve been acting crazy,” Carl said. “Been that way all day. I don’t know why. It’s—it’s something about the holiday. All this Christmas peace-on-earth-and-goodwill-toward-man stuff. Presents. Families getting together. Except me. I don’t have anyone.” His lips pressed together. “I used to love Christmas. Tommy and me—we both loved it. Back before the split. It was a truly special day.” He laughed. “I have this ratty old Santa suit; he loved it when I dressed up in that thing. He knew it was really me, but—somehow it didn’t matter, you know? We just—” His voice wavered; he stopped till he regained control. “We just had so much fun together.”
Megan looked down quietly. “I’m sorry, Carl.”
“All day I kept dreaming that eventually this nightmare would end. Bonnie would dump Frank, I’d get straightened out—we would be one happy family again. But it didn’t happen.” His jaw clenched. “I had to face facts. I’d been kidding myself since the day we were married. All along I’d been telling myself, Don’t be so suspicious. It’s you she loves. Really it is.” He shook his head. “But it wasn’t. It never was. It was the money.”
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
“L ADY, 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
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