Blood Sugar(62)

Based on the chilly meeting I recently had with her in her boutique, I knew Hannah would be more than eager to confirm that what the prosecutor was saying was all true. I was sleeping at her house the night her dad died. And she was so drunk she doesn’t remember anything. So therefore, technically, anything could have happened. Maybe I wasn’t in her bedroom with her the whole time. Maybe I had crept downstairs and murdered her father. My motive? This was a grand jury—a motive was entirely unnecessary. Just an added cherry on top of the sundae.

Then Dr. Marco Hamilton was brought in to serve two purposes. He vehemently denied having an affair with me. But just having to be there testifying to our strictly platonic relationship demoralized him and made him seem unsure of what he was saying. He was also relentlessly questioned about my ability to understand the use of insulin. He had no choice but to testify to the fact that he did teach me how to administer insulin to Mr. Cat and that I seemed very comfortable and adept with the syringe.

After all this testimony, from all these witnesses, the ADA took a line from Detective Jackson and smartly asked the sixteen impartial strangers on the grand jury how many people had suddenly died within a yard or two of them in their lives. Probably zero. Maybe one, at most.

As Roman and I compared daily notes on what we assumed was said in the closed room, he explained to me that none of this would be admissible in my actual trial, and I would probably not be officially charged with any of the other deaths. But with Gertrude accusing me of killing her son, and Detective Jackson saying the hairs stood up on the back of his neck the first time he met me, the ADA felt the grand jury should be aware that three people in my presence were already dead of supposed freak accidents and now my late husband makes four. Four is beyond a pattern. Four is beyond bad luck or coincidence. Four means I’m at the center of it all, these deaths orbiting around me like the planets around the sun. And so even though there is no concrete evidence, all these deaths should be considered when the grand jury decides if the state has enough evidence to bring me to justice and indict me for murdering Jason Hollander. “Because where there is smoke, there is fire. And around Ruby Simon, there is a hell of a lot of smoke.”





CHAPTER 41


    CONFESSION



When I sat down and quietly and privately took stock, it dawned on me, how mad could I be at my current situation? Detective Jackson wasn’t exactly wrong about me. Like when one has a vague toothache and knows something is sick and rotten. He might pick the wrong tooth, but he is correct about the mouth being riddled with cavities and disease. I did have respect for the man, and knew I didn’t have a right to be outraged by his accusations, but I still was. Because what hurt me most was that I truly loved Jason. He was a good man who brought out the best in me. And I wanted to have his babies, and I hoped that even though they would grow up in Miami, they would inherit just a hint of his adorable Southern lilt. I wanted to grow old with him, sitting on a beach bench watching the sunset, our dry wrinkled hands entwined.

I felt no weight of guilt pressing down on my chest, shoulders, or heart. Duncan and Richard and Evelyn deserved to die. And part of me would rather everyone knew I killed them, if they would just believe I didn’t kill Jason. I was tempted to tell the whole truth. But in moments when a confession was about to seep out, I stopped myself, because I knew it would never work like that. Admitting to killing the other three would only make the case that I killed Jason even stronger. So there was no point in trying to make that imaginary bargain with the world. Please, punish me for what I have done. And believe I did not do the thing you think I did. It was not an option.

Plus, Ellie could never know the truth. If I told her I killed Duncan, she would know I did it for her. She would then think that my first kill put me on a lifelong path of being a psycho. She would feel responsible and guilty for all my evil deeds, and that might ruin her life. And the whole point of me killing Duncan in the first place was so that her life would be better. For me to tell her the truth now and destroy her world view, her reality, would be the opposite of what I had set out to do so long ago.

Often, and I knew because I heard about it in sessions, people who revealed hurtful secrets were only trying to release their own pain by handing it off to someone else. Like a hot potato. Here, quick, take this searing knowledge so I don’t have to hold it alone. This course of action is selfish and does no good, just scalds more people. I was not about to burden anyone else with my demons. Especially Ellie.

I had thought the black hole Kangaroo had left when she died was suffocating, but back then I had Jason, and we got through it together. The hardest part about Jason’s not being with me anymore was that I kept wanting to talk to him about my sadness about him being dead, only to remember over and over again that I couldn’t talk to him. Ever again. He was gone and would continue to be unreachable. And I would continue to be sad and miss him. It was a circular problem that wouldn’t stop churning.

I was lonely. And depressed. And the bed was so big. And my routine was so empty. I no longer had our driving-to-and-from-work check-in phone calls. Or the bickering about what causeway to take, which now was a fond memory, since it had been taken away from me. Or our shorthand about when it was time to graciously leave a dinner party. I would let out a tiny yawn. He would then mention to our hosts that I had a big day the next day. I would then say, “No, but I’m having fun!” And that would set the stage for inching our way out the door. We were a team. I missed him in his entirety.