Savich said, “And it’s a coincidence you had breakfast with Veronica Wednesday morning at the Flying Cow in Foggy Bottom?”
“I don’t know how you found out about that, but considering there are eyes everywhere in Washington nowadays, well, no matter. Yes, we do try to have breakfast on Wednesday mornings—nothing special in that. I did tell her about this girl Rob had just met, but I remember I laughed, said it was a passing thing, since he’s a man after all, and that’s the nature of the beast. Veronica laughed, too, said it sounded to her like Rob was a great deal like his father. We didn’t speak of it further.
“It’s Veronica’s nature to protect people—Mrs. Rasmussen, and all her friends, me as well, I think. She’s an honest person, believe me, she would never shove some girl in front of an oncoming car. Our conversation on Wednesday? Again, there was only the merest mention of this girl. Nothing more to it.”
“There was a great deal more to it,” Savich said. “Actually a lot more than anyone here might imagine.”
60
* * *
Everyone burst out talking at once. It was Glynis’s voice that won out over the others. “Dillon, you’re saying Veronica Lake, Grandmother’s Veronica for fifteen years, tried to kill this girl Rob met on Tuesday? That sounds farfetched to me. Hardly possible.”
Savich smiled. “I agree with you. I would also say what she did was stupid. She panicked, and that rarely turns out well.”
He raised his hand to quiet everyone.
Rob was staring fixedly at Savich, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Marsia. “What do you mean, there’s more than anyone can imagine?”
Savich could see dread in his eyes. Perhaps Rob had sensed that something was never quite right in his relationship with Marsia, and it was beginning to dawn on him that their entire relationship had been an illusion fostered by a very talented woman.
Savich said, “To begin with, Marsia and Veronica have been close since before you met her, Rob. Perhaps it started out as a joke when Veronica talked about you, the long-lost bad boy, the marriageable Rasmussen who could be worth untold millions if Venus were to take you back fully into the fold. I suspect it was more than a joke for Marsia. However it came about, between them, they arranged for Marsia to meet and seduce you, Rob, and to do anything she needed to marry you.
“The fly in the ointment was Venus Rasmussen. They had to be very careful in trying to maneuver her into welcoming you back, Rob, and giving you back your full share of the family’s wealth.”
There was stunned surprise, shocked voices. Savich raised his hand to shut them down again and continued. “Do you know, Veronica, Venus hardly even remembered it was you who started bringing Rob up in your conversations. You reminded her what a nice bright boy he’d been and that it was such a pity he’d had to leave. You wondered what he was like now, if he had changed. Because you knew Venus, you dropped it, gave her time to mull it over. You supported her when she wanted to reconnect with her grandson. She was eighty-six, after all, you told her, there was no reason to wait. And so emails were exchanged, and they met.
“Of course you encouraged Venus’s relationship with Rob, Veronica, and you undermined Alexander as subtly as you could, poked gentle fun at Guthrie for his drinking and his womanizing, shook your head mournfully whenever you spoke of Hildi and Glynis, in short, you set the stage for the return of the prodigal son to the queen herself. You were pleased they quickly became close, though you had little to do with that. You watched and waited.
“And Marsia did her part. She attached herself to Rob, drew him in, encouraged him to rekindle his relationship with Venus.” He turned to face Marsia. “Did you and Veronica wonder which of them would contact the other first? Your marrying Rob should have been enough for you, you might have succeeded at that, if not for Delsey.
“Rob no doubt told you Venus had given him back his full share of stock in Rasmussen Industries as Guthrie’s son. I would bet it was you who hatched the idea of killing Venus. She was the only remaining obstacle to your big prize—incredible wealth—and you didn’t want to wait for it. Given Venus’s excellent health, it could be years. Rob Rasmussen and his new wife would inherit a fortune.”
Alexander looked back and forth from Veronica to Marsia, clearly disbelieving. “Wait, are you really saying Veronica gave Grandmother the arsenic? Veronica?”
“Of course. Who else in the house could have done it? Other than you, of course, or Guthrie. The symptoms of arsenic poisoning aren’t immediate. She and Marsia were counting on that fact. After a bit of research on metalwork, I discovered arsenic can be mixed in with copper, tin, and other metals to create varieties of bronze. It makes casting easier, gives a silvery sheen to the metal surface, much like some of the sculptures we saw in your studio, Marsia. It won’t take long to find your supplier.”
Alexander said, “You’re saying Veronica put the arsenic in my bathroom?”
“Yes, but not at first. They hoped to kill Venus with the arsenic without anyone knowing, without anyone suspecting she’d been poisoned. Her natural death would not be unexpected, and they wouldn’t do an autopsy that might detect arsenic. But Venus didn’t cooperate. She stayed alive and grew suspicious, and that alarmed them. I think that’s when Veronica and Marsia decided to implicate someone else, in case it was discovered Venus was being poisoned with arsenic, and who better than you, Alexander, since you were in line to inherit control of Rasmussen Industries, and sat squarely blocking their road to even more power?”
Alexander said, “But what about Vincent Willig? Why did he come out of nowhere and try to shoot Grandmother, here at our house?”
“They were afraid that simply planting the arsenic wouldn’t be enough to allay suspicions, Alexander, and Venus was still alive. They needed to act quickly. Perhaps if she were shot and killed before an investigation got under way, they could still have their prize. They arranged for Willig to shoot Venus before she had a chance to call us at the FBI. Luckily she beat them to the punch, but just barely—no one expected us to be there. Putting Willig’s number on your cell phone, Alexander, was an extra precaution, another nail in your coffin.”
Hildi said, “But who was this man, this Willig? How did either of these women even know a criminal, an ex-convict?”