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“Clever. Where did you learn how to make this?” I ask after taking another long, pleasing mouthful.
“In Italy. While I was working on the yacht of this fabulously wealthy American couple.”
That’s weird. My parents had a yacht they kept anchored in Positano before it blew up and killed them both. It’s not a secret, and I’m pretty sure we’ve talked about this before. About to ask her for more details, including their names, I feel my throat constrict. A hot metal ball forms at the base. I can’t swallow or catch my breath. Simultaneously, abdominal cramps fist my stomach, the pain so great I want to scream. The tumbler falls out of my hand and the blood-orange liquid soaks the sheets. One hand clutches my neck, the other my gut.
My face and body contorting, I watch as she stirs her drink and a wicked smile crosses her lips.
“In case you were wondering, Ned, the couple’s names were Edward and Isabelle…Sinclair.”
My parents!
THIRTY-EIGHT
NED
I’m choking as Marley goes on. My breaths coming out in short, startled gasps.
“Remember I told you at that little French joint that I went abroad? Well, it wasn’t exactly for research. I’d call it more of a pleasure trip. I got a job as your parents’ caregiver—a travel nurse.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“It honestly wasn’t a hard job, but it was hardly as rewarding as caring for sweet, little Isa. Mostly, I was there to give them daily massages, but sometimes I had to stick enemas up your father’s ass and inject Botox and fillers into your mother’s face. Your constipated father didn’t have a nice word to say about you, but it sickened me how much your precious mother adored you. But together, they created you. A monster, and so I had no choice…”
I want to scream how could you, but my vocal cords are ablaze in my larynx. I have no voice, and no choice but to listen.
“It just took a little manipulation of the fuel blower system. Easy-breezy. Even you could have done it! While I was off duty shopping on Piazza dei Mulini—wearing your mother’s Hermès scarf and the lilac perfume I stole—the fumes accumulated…”
Loudly, she claps her hands together like cymbals. “…and BOOM! The boat exploded and caught fire.”
She shakes her head and tsks. “It’s a shame they were on it. A shame they never got to meet their first grandchild. A shame they raised a man like you. So primitive and privileged.”
I process her words. She blew up my parents’ yacht and killed them? But why? I can’t ask. I can’t form words. Unable to get them past the molten lava scorching my throat.
As I writhe in agony, she smiles at me coyly. “Ned, for the car and the money, do you know what the drink’s secret ingredient is?”
I stare at her wordlessly, helplessly. A life-or-death timeclock ticks in my head.
“Bzzzzz. Time’s up! You lose! It’s good old-fashioned arsenic.”
I’ve been poisoned!
THIRTY-NINE
NED
Marley smacks her lips. “Ned, didn’t you ever see that old movie with Cary Grant…Arsenic and Old Lace? I watched it with my sister. It was one of her favorites, though I didn’t quite understand it at the time. It wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins. I watched it again a short while ago and laughed my head off. They should do a remake.”
She rises from the bed and paces the small room. “You know, it’s the perfect poison. Odorless, colorless, tasteless.”
My eyes track her as she moves from corner to corner like a tiger shark in a tank.
“So, Ned, where did I find the arsenic? Arsenic trioxide, the deadliest kind, to be more specific. I was going to purchase some—surprisingly, it’s not hard to get online—but lo and behold, I found a bottle hidden in your medicine cabinet when I was searching for some Advil for Ava.”
She turns and glowers at me.
“You’re a bad enough cad, but I never thought you had it in you.”
What is she talking about?
